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	[WP] Breaking News: The King is dead, please report to the capital and submit your prints, the selection process begins now!	[ "The world had never really been the same since the last world war, all of the great powers collapsing even if they won their battles. Everyone decided it would be best to have a world rules by the people but after the first few years it had shown to be a mess, so it was finally decided there would be a king who would rule, not based on blood but on luck a lottery system. This had worked alright after the first two Kings we had started to get a decent grasp on things and then there was the current King, King Bob. Bob had originally worked at a subway but he was a manager so he knew how to lead, Bob is a great King, well was until we heard those damned broadcast. \"King Bob has died, he had fallen off a balcony at the playboy mansion, please report to your local station for prints\" Here it was time for another fool to take power, I hopped into my ratchety old car that growled like an untamed beast when attempting to start, and was on my way. The roads were packed with people trying to get their prints taken, it seemed everyone wanted to be King. I had finally made it through the traffic down to my local voting office, the line was long but definitely not as bad as others, in front of me was a blonde ball shaped woman who was snorting and shouting. \"I am going to be Queen so you better start treating me like it now! Out of my way peasants! \" as she flung her arms and hands in the air Dorito dust was falling like snow, great. \"You'll all remember the name Queen Sarah Norfolk!\", yeah I hope not I thought. Finally it was my turn to put my hand on the scanner, it felt gross, covered in a layer of sweat and food crumbs. The old man behind the counter with more wrinkles than you can count and glasses that were ready to fall of the edge of his nose at any time looked up and said \" good luck!\" . Yeah I thought good luck to us all just that we don't get some psychopath in power. I was happy to head home, tired of this mess as I had drove home I could not wait for this day to be over. I swung open the door and went straight to bed. I awoken to the raido, they had picked the new ruler! They started with the location, it was my state! Then the county, again my county! My heart had started to race, I wasn't even wanting this but for this split minute I wanted to hear MY name. Then the voting place, it was mine, I had started to shake in excitement I couldn't believe it! Then they said it : The new ruler is Sarah Norfolk! I let a sigh out that was powerful enough to push me down, that dorito dust pig was right, she was a queen.", "\"I think I'd make a good king,\" Jacob said as he spread the fertilizer out with his hands. He was on all fours, evenly spreading the fresh dung across his newly planted turnips. \"Fresh suckling pig every night. Naked wenches to warm my bed. The finest rings for my enemies to kiss and the flashiest throne for my arse to sit. I mean, I've already got the kingly jewels,\" he brought his stained rank hand to his crotch and squeezed it in his brother's face. \"No more of these stringy turnips for me.\"\n\n\nNez jerked his head back at his brother's gesture. He was on his feet using a hoe to line the field. \"Is that what a good king is like?\"\n\n\n\"Well that's what the last one was like,\" said Jacob as he wiped the literal shit off of his hands and onto his pants. \"And look at how good we got it.\"\n\n\n\"Yeah.\" Nez looked down. Being ankle deep in a combination of horse, pig, cow, goat and human feces was not really his idea of \"good\" but they never went hungry. The turnips were enough for them, their sister and their mother. If it was a good harvest they'd even have enough to trade some for meat that they'd have on special occasions. Times were tough after their father went to the castle and never came back, but now the boys are doing well and providing more than he ever could. \"It's just, I don't know, maybe a good king listens to his people. Maybe a good king can share his wealth, create peace, and make everyone's life a little easier.\"\n\n\nJacob stood up. \"You still think about him?\"\n\n\n\"Every time I close my eyes.\" Nez confessed.\n\n\n\"Well stop it. He was a fool who thought he could change the way the world works. You know where that got him? Nowhere. Dead, gone, and left his family for the buzzards. We're better off.\"\n\n\nIn a way, they were better off. But there was also something missing, thought Nez, and everyone knew it, especially Jacob. Nez was about to turn and walk away but he was hit in the face with something cold, wet, lumpy, and incredibly smelly. \n\n\nJacob was smiling at his toss, but his smile was too wide. Nez retaliated and nailed Jacob smack on the nose and bits of shit went right into Jacob's mouth. He fell to his knees and started gagging and spitting. That's when Nez tackled him. \n\n\nThe two brothers rolled and wrestled in the field of feces, laughing and gagging and laughing some more. They went on for a solid twenty minutes before they noticed the royal guard approaching on a white horse, with his nose turned up in the air and a look of disgust on his face. The boys stopped their ruckus and stood up, dripping with shit and staring at the man in clean brightly colored robes. He took out a scroll and cleared his throat. \n\n\n\"I have been sent here on a royal decree for the next in line for the Kingship...\"\n\n\nNez had a sinking feeling in his gut because he knew exactly what was going to come next.", "The King is dead. Please report to the Capital to submit your prints. The Selection begins now.\n\nThe message hovered in front of my head, just a few feet away thanks to the automated drone. The drone had the markings of the King, a burning rose, which he had taken on when he took the title. King of the Roses, they called him, king of the dead.\n\nPlease state your name.\n\nThe message changed as I was grabbing my shoes, \"Isiah Mason.\" The drone scanned me, and I stood as straight as I could. \n\nVoice pattern recognized. The message scrolled through the sun of the morning, Physical pattern matched. Report to the Capital Mr. Mason.\n\n\"I heard you the first time,\" I said. I grabbed my rucksack and headed out of my apartment building, being sure to lock it before I went down the ladder. The Selection had been going on for years now and I was always careful to have a spare bag of food and supplies for the journey to the Capital. Every suitable male, I remembered the words of the Selection, aged eighteen to twenty-eight is to be Selected for the Moot in the event that the previous King leaves no viable heir.\n\nProblem with that, I spoke to myself, is that every King is assassinated before they can choose an heir, or they live long enough to choose a wife and then get murdered at their feast. I almost laughed to myself as I saw my neighbor getting ready for the trip as well. The amount of Kings we've had over the last decade alone, I smirked, it was enough to throw the world into chaos.\n\nWhich, evidently, it did as King Tacitus had evidently pointed out with his burning rose.\n\n\"Mr. Mason!\" My neighbor yelled from his apartment platform, \"you were chosen?\"\n\n\"Every year,\" I said to the sixteen year-old. He was a dreamer, one of the many kids who wanted to be King, but I knew from just looking at him, would never be chosen for the Selection.\n\n\"That's awesome! Good luck Mr. Mason, maybe one day I can say my upstairs neighbor is King!\"\n\nI laughed. I was chosen for the Selection every year, but I was never Selected. It was always some smug born with a silver-spoon in his mouth. Had enough money to feed the Crown, while he also had the name to keep the people in line. King Tacitus of the Burning Rose was the twelfth Tacitus within the last two decades. I only imagined what new name the Moot would choose this year.\n\nThe drone above my head sped out of my apartment, along with about a dozen others from our Tower. Typically a dozen males were selected each time from a province, or as everyone else called them, Towers. Big, husks of buildings that used to be used for office work, as I was always told growing up. I never knew what that meant, I had grown up in the time of monarchs and sieges, and had seen many Towers burn from rivalry Kings. Including my own.\n\nBut that is a story for another time.\n\nI joined the other eleven Chosen and headed into the nearest Royal truck, the burning rose symbol clearly outlined on the sides of the truck. I looked at the Chosen, a few younger teens, a few early twenty year old's, and me, the only twenty-eight year old on the truck.\n\nIt's my last year, I thought, they're just continuing with the tradition of choosing me but not actually Selecting me. Surely one of these other kids would get to the next round, but I, along with ten others would be returning to the Tower of Teal in a few days' time. All it took was one look by the moot, a few quick questions, and the deal was done.\n\nBesides, who'd want to be King in the days of assassinations and fire burning the world? \n\nI certainly wouldn't.\n\n____________\n\nThe Capital had lost it's luscious flavor the second time I had gone, when I realized that everyone living in this place was just as miserable as the rest of us living in towers. Sure, it looked nice, but the dirt and grime was there, particularly on the people not living in the Hall. I was lucky enough to have a roof over my head in the Tower, these people had nothing but tents and dirt.\n\n\"Everyone out! Line up and submit your prints!\" A royal officer said from the outside of the truck. I knew what I was doing, it was the new kids that had no idea their left hand from their right.\n\nThe line went slowly, but I eventually submitted my prints to, I was pretty sure, the same drone that had delivered my message. It took them, slid them into its compartmental holder, and then printed out a ticket with a number. Usually I was in the hundreds, but this year, my number was in the single digits.\n\n001\n\nI stared at it, looked up at the drone, then at the officer, and then back at the ticket.\n\n\"Something wrong, mister...\" he looked at the nametag that was being printed to my jacket, \"Mason?\"\n\nI shrugged, \"Never got single digits before.\"\n\nHe laughed when I showed him the ticket number, \"Well, ain't it your lucky day. No waiting.\"\n\nI smirked and nodded, \"Thanks.\"\n\nHe smiled and pointed to the Hall, \"You can go on in since your one, they're already ready.\"\n\nI thanked him again and headed straight towards the hall. There were about eighty other Selected, thanks to the color-coding of the Towers, I could clearly see which Towers had been omitted this year and which ones were in. Along with Teal, there was Red, Black, Blue, Yellow, and White. All the others' had been omitted, including my home Tower of Emerald, which had been omitted the last twelve years due to obvious reasons.\n\nMost of them were younger, with only a few others around my age. Or at least ones that looked my age. Everyone else, the thousands of people snuggled in the dirt, where now pestering the teens and adults from the Towers, asking for food or water, or the shoes off their feet. A few teenagers gave them food stuffs and articles of clothing, thinking as everyone else did, that generosity made you King.\n\nIf they had been paying attention the last decade, they would have known that wasn't true.\n\nI stepped up to the Great Hall and presented my ticket to the Royal Officers there, who thanked me for coming and then let me inside. I had been in the Hall nine times by now, and it was about the only place in the Capital that was enjoyable. There was a sense of pureness to it, maybe the cleanliness that didn't exist anywhere else, but also the atmosphere. Something about it made me actually enjoy it; maybe the tall pillars held up by carved statues of previous Kings or the artifacts that hung from each wall, or maybe the throne, a simple and elegant stone slab.\n\nThere were four people, two women and two men, sitting in front of the throne, each of them a step lower than it. Jacques Donardrian was the Royal adviser, I would recognize his blonde hair anywhere. And Diedre Payne, the dark-skinned royal accountant, who had served every King for the last eight years. Although, I am sure most of them kept her on because of her intelligence, many others did because of her beauty. \n\nThe other two were new. A burly man with a thick beard wore a full set of steel-plated armor, the burning rose burned onto his pauldrons. And the woman of red hair who wore a black cloak and a corset of leather armor. She was beautiful, I noticed, but in the common sense of the word.\n\n\"Step forward, say your name, tower, and--\"\n\n\"Isiah Mason, Tower of Teal, twenty-eight years old,\" I interrupted Jacques.\n\n\"You've been here before?\"\n\n\"A dozen or more times, sir.\"\n\nHe looked up from writing, eyeing me up for a moment. \"Then I presume you know myself.\"\n\n\"Jacques Donardrian, Royal adviser,\" I said and then looked at Diedre, \"And you are Diedre Payne, the royal accountant.\"\n\nShe smiled.\n\n\"The other two?\"\n\nI shook my head.\n\n\"Brendan Callahan, Captain of the Royal Guard,\" he tipped his head.\n\n\"Rosalind Red, Royal Spymaster,\" she nodded.\n\nI nodded at each of them.\n\n\"You are familiar with the Selection process then?\"\n\n\"I am.\" Just then a drone, the same drone I was sure of it, sped into the Hall and flew next to Jacques, printing out a few pieces of paper, most likely with my information on it, and then flying back out from where it is.\n\n\"The name Mason, I have no other records of it here.\"\n\n\"I believe I am the last of my name.\" Jacques shared a glance with Rosalind before turning back to me.\n\n\"You originally belonged to the Tower of Emerald?\"\n\nI nodded, \"Before the Revolt, yes.\"\n\n\"And your family?\"\n\n\"Dead, as far as I know. I was evacuated before it collapsed.\"\n\nDiedre asked the next question, \"How did you feel about King Tacitus the Twelfth?\"\n\nIf I knew one thing about the Selection it was that you had to be honest, no matter what. \"He was another silver-spoon fed bastard who didn't enough for the people and instead watched them burned.\" I said, then remembered my manners, \"Ma'am.\"\n\nRosalind let out a slight chuckle. Brendan chortled heartily, and even Diedre smiled. Jacques, on the other hand, remained stoic.\n\n\"You are an honest man,\" Brendan said, \"I like that.\"\n\n\"I've learned that the Royal Selectors can see through any lie.\"\n\nRosalind said, \"You learn well. How long did it take you to figure that out?\"\n\nI shrugged, \"Who knows? Nine years, give or take.\" She smirked and wrote something on her pad.\n\n\"As you know, each year we ask a few preliminary questions, followed by a single question. If we like you, you move on to the next round. If we don't, you go home.\"\n\nI nodded.\n\n\"Are you ready for the final question?\"\n\nI nodded again.\n\n\"Do you want to be King?\"\n\nIt was something they had never asked in the whole nine years I had been at the Capital. Never has the Selectors asked me a question liked that. Nine years ago, I probably would have said yes. But I was older now, maybe wiser, maybe arrogant, but I knew the difference between the life I wanted and the life that killed. My answer was an easy one.\n\n\"No.\"\n\nJacques looked up suspiciously, \"No?\"\n\n\"No, sir.\"\n\nHe looked at me, leaned back in his seat, and nodded. \"That will be all.\"\n\n\"I get to go home?\"\n\nThe Selectors exchanged a few glances, then he shook his head, \"No. You move on to the next round.\"" ]	3
	[WP] You find out that your Grandma somehow became a very powerful drug lord, yet she does not realize this.	[ "\"Here dearie, a little something for the pain.\" Grandma said, throwing a skinny youth a box of codeine. \n\nGrandma was 89, and she felt the weight of her years most keenly. She had a great amount of ailments, arthritis, the beginnings of dementia, the tail end of a depression and various other diseases and problems with your body that you end up getting over the years. And of course, when you're that old you start accumulating Tablets and drugs that you didn't need to get on repeat for that long, but got them anyway. \nPoor grandma, she thought she was doing the neighbours well, but really she was getting them addicted. She let a neighbour have a box of codeine, and when he came back for some more, she didn't question it. She gave him another box, asking only the price of her prescription. Then when he came back again, she charged a little more to cover her having to go up to the doctors and get some more. \nWhen the next person came in and asked for something to make him feel better, she assumed he was depressed, so gave him some anti-depressants. Also addictive in large enough quantities. \n\nMore and more people came to her, but her stockpiles of drugs never wavered. She was never questioned by the doctors. She's old and has the beginnings of dementia \"she probably lost the last pack \" the doctors told me.\nSo I'm looking into this now for Mum, who's concerned about her own mother's dementia, and I come around and she's dealing addictive substances to people who she believes are sick and need her help. Little does she know she's the one who's making them sick. They're addicted to her stuff, and when asked why she does this she replies \"I'm just trying to help them dearie, I want to make them feel well again. Besides, no one has ever been hurt by a little tablet now have they?\"", "Ding! The oven timer rang.\n\nIt reminded Timmy of his childhood at grandma's, impatiently waiting for her famous cookies to emerge hot and chewy from her old fashioned oven.\n\nIt really was nice, he thought, visiting his grandma after all these years. Timmy had seen her occasionally for family functions and for Uncle Gerald's funeral, but his job, which took him a couple counties away, prevented such a visit as this day. Now that he had a week's vacation he thought it the perfect time to pay her a much owed visit.\n\n\"Cookies are ready little Timmy,\" she said in a childish voice. Timmy thought himself too old at eleven for this kind of talk, much less now pushing thirty.\n\n\"Thanks Grammy!\" He considered telling her that she no longer needed to speak that way, but after considering it he decided against it. After all, grandchildren are a grandmother's pride and joy. \"I can't wait!\" Was all he could muster. She left the room for a minute and he could hear her pick the cookie rack from out of the oven and place it atop the stove.\n\n\"They just need a few minutes rest is all!\" She reentered the dining room where they were continued their catching up over cups of steaming coffee. \"Speaking of cookies, Timmy,\" she said with a brow raised, obviously proud of herself, \"they have become quite the bees knees around town! Everybody's been asking for them; even paying for them. The kids from the local high school call me Mrs. Fields.\" Tim found that sort of odd, but her cookies were something of legend he guessed. \"They always come here ordering more and more. They are ever so nice, too. Very docile fellows I must say.\"\n\n\"That's great Grammy! Sound like you're having a lot of fun.\"\n\n\"I am,\" she said excitedly. \"Just wait 'till you try them, Timmy! They are the same recipe as before, but I added a little something to spice it up a little. I think it's just what they needed.\"\n\n\"Hmmm, what is it Grammy? Nutmeg? Cinnamon? Oh I know! A little rum, perhaps?\"\n\nTim's grandmother chuckled. \"Timmy, you know I already put all that in them. No, it's something I get from a friend.\" She scooted to the edge of her seat, eyes intensifying. \"Apparently is a rare herb from South America, but he has connections in Columbia so I can get it for quite a fair price. I think he called it cannipus?\" Tim's eyes widened, mouth dropping to his chin.\n\n\"Grammy?\" He asked slowly. \"You don't mean cannabis do you?\" He looked fearfully in her ignorant eyes.\n\n\"Why yes, I do believe that is what it is. Heavens me! I always get it wrong.\"\n\nA knock came at the door. \"You had better let me get that Grammy.\" Tim suddenly feared for his grandmother, both for her safety and her freedom. His mind spun as he thought of what she has been doing, apparently ignorantly by the sound of it.\n\nIt seemed like forever till he reached the door. At long last, Tim turned the knob and pulled open the door. The man that stood just being the threshold of his grandmother's home told him exactly what he came for. The strange visitor was tall, ponytail with a scraggly black beard, peppered with white hairs, wearing a leather biker's vest, torn denim jeans, and steel toe boots.\n\n\"I'm gonna' need twelve dozen,\" said the stranger.", "My grandmother has been an avid baker for several decades, but the funny thing about her is that once she's baked you something once, you should expect it to turn into a weekly occurrence. She went from baking for friends and family, to baking for churches and youth programs, until she was able to start up her own empire that competed with Tollhouse, Little Debby, and every single other chain baked goods, sugary cocaine, business you can think of. \n\nAmazingly enough during the 37 years she ran that company she never stopped baking for those who encouraged her to start it all. Including one young man who's parents were shot by a local gang 41 years ago. This is where the tale of Granny takes a dark turn.\n\nDesean Shaqul was thrown into foster family after foster family, each one feeling like an even more demented tail by lemony Snicket than the last. Swearing vengeance on the gang banger who took his life away was the only thing that kept this young go-getter going, that and my grandmothers chocolate chip cookies from the local churches whenever he was able to sneak out. \n\nAfter Gram noticed the second black eye she started to take Desean under her wing, showing him how to bake and quickly started building a case to get him taken away from his foster parents. \n\nAfter about a week, she asked him if he would like to be a part of her family, with that simple question, she said, she was able to see a fire of passion and hope reignite in his eyes. There was just one issue, there was no visual proof of the foster parents' abuse, so she made a plan with him.\n\nOne night when the father was passed out he was to call her to meet her at the church, and that was all Desean was told about the plan. He did as he was told, and when he arrived, the night played out like a scene from the Godfather. She slammed the door behind him and started beating the poor boy to near death. \"why?!\" you ask? I'll tell you what she told him that night, and many years later me. \"You are at the highest risk of being killed when leaving an abuser for the final time\" \n\nWithin a week she was in front of a judge, with the step parents apologizing for not hitting the boy harder. Desean lived like a family member until his 16th birthday when he ran away one night leaving nothing but a note explaining that he must find the man that killed his parents. Years went by, Grandma still baked cookies, mailing them across the world, long forgetting about a young boy she saved from abuse. \n\nUntil she woke up with three men standing over her bed, she was quickly gagged and put into the passenger seat of a large cadilacalacalaca (its fun to say, bug off!) And brought to St. Mary's Hospital of Crime Lords. She was then brought face to face with Desean from all those years ago..............", "It all started with Little Red and a batch of cookies. \n\nLittle Red was one of the most notorious drug lords north of the Rio Grande. They said he was so short because all that anger inside him stunted his growth when he killed his first in elementary school. Others said he was named after that fairy tale character because his face got as red as her fairy-tale coat when he got angry. All I knew was that I'd seen him once in the 10th grade and that I never, ever wanted to see him again. \n\nUnfortunately for me I'd gotten in some trouble with Little Red in recent months. I'd been selling my anxiety and ADHD pills on the down low to my friends in high school. Just a little pick up here, a little sedating effect there. People came up with a whole new name for my drug - the whirlygig - after figuring out if you mixed the two with alcohol you had an effect similar to speedballing and often you lost so much of the night's memories that you felt a sort of vertigo. \n\nWell Little Red had what one might call a monopoly on the high school drug industry. He sold his pot and his cocaine and his shrooms to all the kids who wanted to experiment. But when he tired to open up his Ritalin business around finals he ran into some trouble. Some gringo was selling his ritalin and xanax, and there was even a term for the two when they were mixed together. \n\nLittle Red didn't know it was me at first - probably wouldn't still be here if he had - but he did have a message for that gringo: Stop selling on my turf, ese, or we're going to have a problem. \n\nWith great business success comes more misfortune in the face of adversity: People liked my stuff too much to let me fade into the static. They were always coming up to me, asking me for more, telling me that I had some excellent product. My doctor was a little bit suspicious as to why I kept coming in asking for more meds - at least I think she was - but she never did anything to stem them. \n\nThen one day I saw him. Little Red in the hallway of my school. He was short, a whopping 5 foot at most, but his cowboy hat and boots added a bit to his height. He had one of those stereotypical Mexican mustaches - the ones that hang down over the side of your mouth and seem to clash with any clothing besides bolo ties and ponchos. His face was this tomato red that had haunted me in my dreams since that day in 10th grade - and a classmate was pointing me right out to him. \n\nSo I did what any small time 12th grade drug dealer would do. I turned on my heel and I ran like a little girl running from a wolf. I got into my car and I drove right past the security guard and let them wave me yell at me as I turned out of the school and drove like my life depended on it.\n\nThere was one last problem, though. They had to be following me. And I was not about to lead them to my house. Instead I did the only other thing that popped into my head. I drove to the nursing home where my grandmother lived. I grabbed the bags of pills that I kept in my glove box and I ran in. Panting at the front desk I was led far too slowly down one of the hallways, and looking back I could see someone in a cowboy hat and cowboy boots hot on my tail, standing at the front desk and motioning to me. \n\nMy grandma was baking. She hugged me and adjusted her ultra-thick glasses and asked me if I wanted to help her make her cookies.\n\nI hadn't intended to throw the pills into the batter. I figured I would throw it out later and get them back. I hadn't known that the next moment when Little Red walked into the room I would be hiding behind my grandmother and watching in horror as she used the electric mixer on the pills that I had just poured into her batter. \n\nSomehow I got Little Red off my back that day. He didn't think to look in the bowl of some old woman. After his men took me outside and searched me and my car they let me go with a warning. Last time, ese. Next time we see you we won't be so nice. \n\nNice was a black eye, but I took it like a man and only cried after they had left. \n\nI went back inside and threw out the cookies my grandma had placed on the ceramic plate to cool. I hugged her and we talked for an hour or so, and then I went home to put some raw meat on my face. \n\nThat was two years ago. Somehow some of the nurses had found the cookies and eaten some. The Whirlygig Cookies became infamous. My grandmother had a huge influx of cash and was baking every weekend without really knowing what she was doing. Little Red came and threatened me and I had to pick up from Albuquerque and move to Denver where I hoped they'd never find me. \n\nI came back last week to see my grandmother. She'd asked me to come to meet a new business partner of hers - someone who wanted to take her baking to the next level and make a cookbook. \n\nOf course I thought it was Little Red. But blood is thicker than water and who was I to turn down my grandmother? So I went back. I went to the nursing home with my heart pounding, preparing myself to be looking down the business end of a gun by the end of the day.\n\nInstead what I found was a tall, slim man who introduced himself as Marko. He shook my hand and then sat down next to my grandmother again.\n\n\"Jeremy,\" he said with a knowing smile, stretching his arms wide. \"Your grandmother and I were just discussing a business proposition. She sells the best cookies on this side of the Rio Grande, you know.\" \n\n\"Yeah, I've heard,\" I nodded as I took the seat he indicated. \n\n\"Well I'm in the Ice Cream business. And what goes better with Ice Cream than cookies?\"\n\n\"The...the ice cream business?\" I could feel myself visibly relax until Marko pushed aside the coat of his suit to reveal a gun.\n\n\"Yes, Jeremy. I sell the premier Ice Cream product in the nation. Now your grandma sells cookies. Cookies aren't covered by Ice Cream. But I have a rival who's now trying to sell both. Little man that goes by Little Red and thinks he owns the place.\" \n\nI swallowed. \n\n\"So tell me, Jeremy,\" Marko's hand motioned and several other men with guns walked into the room. \"You think your grandma wants to take this ingenious cookie business national?\"\n\n---\n\nFor more on Marko, check out [this prompt](https://www.reddit.com/r/Celsius232/comments/4g5x3o/wp_in_an_effort_to_protect_your_innocence_when/)\n\nIf you enjoyed this, check out /r/Celsius232 for more. ", "\"Grandma, what are you doing?\"\n\nI looked at her sweet, innocent face, with her broad-rimmed glasses perched neatly on top of her nose.\n\n\"Just using the computer to do some website formatting, Johnny. What did you think I was doing?\"\n\nI saw her computer screen, thinking it strange that she wasn't trying to cover it up or suddenly click off to the next tab. Why in the hell would she have a weed page pulled up at a website called Grandma's Garden?\n\n\"That looks like some mighty fine plants you're selling there, Grandma. What kind of exquisite type is that?\n\n\"Oh, it's the lovely Cannabis plant that I'm starting to grow in my backyard. I've heard it's great in medical use, but I have no idea why it's in such high demand!\"\n\nI saw her scroll down, and a heroin image that clicked 'BUY NOW!' appeared on the screen. Suddenly, I heard a knock on the door.\n\n\"Oh, Johnny, I'll get that for you!\"\n\nShe opened the door, and a burly, tall man dressed in all black stepped inside.\n\n\"You said you ordered 1/4 pound of Cannabis sir? I'll get that for you just now then.\"\n\nAs I stared in horror, the man looked back at me and smiled.\n\n\"You're grandmother's an awfully nice woman. Maybe you could continue the business once she passes away.\"\n\nDumbstruck, I was saved from having something to say by Grandma stepping up and giving the man a bag of weed. She smiled, said \"Have a nice day!\" and he left.\n\n\"Johnny, this plant business is getting me a lot of money lately, would you try and help me format the website I'm going to use for my business?\n\n\"Um... Yeah, sure... bu\"\n\n\"Thank you so much Johnny! I knew you'd be Grandma's boy. I'm working on my new product- methamphetamine! It looks like a very fine white crystal, I think I would like that in my jewelry as well.\"\n\nAs I opened my mouth to reply, I heard another knock on the door." ]	5
child is catch all, can be young adult or anything.	[WP] A lone child wanders in the forest and crosses paths with a damaged spacecraft. The survivor begs for help before he is captured.	[ "Sick of Mom and her damn dishes and her oxy. Always the dishes. \"Do the dishes or no TV.\" \"Do the dishes and you can have my pack of Menthols.\" Tonight, it was, \"Do the dishes and I'll kiss you like when you were a boy after Dad died.\" I threw the dishes in the trash and ran out of the back of the trailer into the woods.\n\nI ran so hard I hit the deformed steel before I saw it. I fell down against a sycamore trunk that was split in half. The steel door had crushed it. The steel door was buried partly into the earth like a meteorite, and behind it was a giant steel sphere that was split down the middle with a body underneath it. The body was moving.\n\nHelp me.\n\nI didn't hear it, but it wasn't me either. It was from the body on the ground, twitching, scaly, but humanoid with its legs caught and crushed under the steel sphere. It looked up at me with its black fish-like eyes.\n\nHelp me.\n\n\"Get away from that!\" Mom had just shown up, wheezing. \"Jesus! What is it? Get away!\"\n\nBut I was still angry, and frightened now, too, and I moved stupidly back from her toward the shuddering body on the ground. It grabbed me and pulled me down. Its skin was like an armadillo's, and it had 3 powerful, clawed fingers on each hand. It was bigger than me and it held me, and it was searching me like it knew about my cousin.\n\nGive it to me.\n\nIt found the pistol in my waistband - the pistol I was hiding for my cousin while the police questioned him - and it wrenched the pistol away from me. It shot my mother in the chest. Twice. She fell down dead in front of me as I jumped up screaming.\n\n\"MOM!\" I was beside her.\n\nBut a bullet whizzed past my head, and I saw movement in the woods. The body on the ground was shooting into the darkness. There was return fire. A hail of gunshots and pinging on the steel door and the steel sphere. Men in dark camouflage with assault rifles came slowly out from the trees.\n\nGet away from it. Wait.\n\n\"MOM!\"\n\nShe looked at me with her eyes flat, already dead, her mouth open with her stained teeth like yellow tumors inside. Then she vomited. The vomit shot into my chest and neck, and when I yanked back away from her there was something like a big leech in the vomit, stuck to my jugular vein. It was covered in a million legs and teeth and it was burrowing into my skin.\n\n\"Get it off me! Get it off me!\"\n\nI was crawling backwards, screaming, raving, until I collided with the armadillo-thing and it grabbed me. It put its clawed fingers in my neck and tore the leech out. It jammed the big leech into the soil with the pistol-barrel on top of it, and it kept shooting until the clip was empty and the leech was dead. Then, the armadillo-thing closed its black fish-like eyes like it was tired, and the men in camouflage came closer.\n\nI saw a wet world full of cities built up out of shallow waters. Millions of hovering boats. Creatures with fish-like eyes and three fingers and silver clothes, all getting suddenly sick. There were leeches crawling into their mouths while they slept. A last survivor, a scientist, launched himself into the sterile dark of space with a leech in a box to study it, to beat it, to return with a cure. But his craft went down. A woman found him on an alien planet, where the leech leapt into her mouth and she became its pet, a host, a dead thing trapped in habit while the leech lined her insides with eggs.\n\nBurn the body, he told me while the men in camouflage sprayed something on his legs, amputated them, and took him away.\n\nMy mother was cremated. My cousin drove me over to Nevada to scatter her ashes in the desert, the driest place I could think of.", "He was going to use the jar to hold the crayfish he planned to catch in the creek that ran through these woods but this was much more interesting. \n\nIt made croaking noises like a frog but looked nothing like one. He layered the bottom of the jar with moss, sticks, and some plants he thought the creature might eat. He added some insects just in case it liked bugs better. It squirmed in his hands as he slipped it into the jar, settling it on a flat rock. Then he screwed the jar shut. He would add a bowl of water and hammer some airholes when he got home. \n\nBeing a boy with an active imagination, he was distracted on his way back, finally arriving home just before sunset. He put the jar in his room and promptly forgot about it. It wouldn't be the first time he did something like this. ", "The night was beautiful. The air was crisp, and cold, for Tom's breath rose in great plumes of condensation as wandered along the path. Leaves crunched and twigs snapped, and in the bushes, something rustled. The moon hung in the sky, a great glowing orb shining silver and white.\n\nTom glared at his watch. She'd probably ditched him. Typical. Why did girls always ditch him and never follow through with their promises. It was half past ten and she'd promised she'd be there. \n\nSurely there had to be one girl out there who appreciated the stars, who was as interested in astrophysics as he was. He was top of the class and even Dr Mehmed had expressed interest in his abilities.\n\nThe air was getting warmer.\n\nTom sighed. It was late, and he was alone. Another wasted night. He could've tracked the movement of Jupiter tonight, it was a prime opportunity. Perhaps that was why Phoebe hadn't turned up, she was obsessed with those stupid astrology signs. Didn't she realise the beauty of astronomy, pure and simple? All that superstitious rubbish was no good for her, he could teach her that, he could enlighten her.\n\nLight flickered from between the trees. Orange light, nothing... natural. \n\nTom stumbled over toward the light, tripping over branches and fallen trunks. Several of the trunks appeared to have been scarred by saws. He hated people who disrupted the natural balance of the world, ruining it for others. And the light was probably from a bunch of irresponsible campers trying to impress each other with fire.\n\nA thick stench filled his nostrils with each breath he took, as if something were burning. \n\nHe turned a corner, and reeled backward.\n\nAliens! He knew they were real!\n\nA rough trench had been carved out of the hard earth, the forest floor littered with burning metal and displaced clay. Clods of soil scattered amongst the leaves, charred solid.\n\nAnd right in the centre of it. Wow. A mangled fuselage, reduced to so many pieces of twisted framework, smothered by thick black smoke and the blazing lick of a raging fireball. Pools of silver dripped from it, running molten from the intense heat. Beams screeched as they crumpled and fell in the cruel hands of the flames.\n\n\"Heeeelp meeee\"\n\nTom leapt.\n\nThere, just beyond the reach of the blaze. Obviously it had clawed it's way out of the wreckage after the crash. It was probably injured. He could save it! He would be the first human to see an alien body, to discover how it worked and how it healed.\n\nIt was clad in some sort of white material, etched with burn marks and melted in places. The limbs were puffy, and there were rigid tubular digits where the hands ought to be, if it were a human. He couldn't count how many.\n\nWires snaked off from central positions, sparking at the ends. There was some sort of console mounted on the end of one thick bunch, presumably flashing with alien symbols and characters. The text was green, anyway.\n\nTom stood gaping, mouth hanging open. This was spectacular, amazing. This was unique, a one of a kind event. Forget Phoebe, he had more important things to do. He reached for his phone, ready to carry out forensic photography, and to show Marty. Mart was going to be so jealous when he saw this.\n\nA low groan shook Tom to his senses. A guttural plea for help, thick and wet. It was learning English! This was astounding.\n\nKnees knocking, Tom picked his way toward the stranded spaceman, careful to avoid the flaming puddles of fuel. It might be toxic, and besides, it was incredibly hot.\n\nHands trembling, he stretched out, grabbing onto the white... helmet? It would be a helmet if this were a human. A golden visor wrapped round the front of it, scratched and dented but not cracked. \n\nSlowly, deliberately, he slid his fingers under the rim... and lifted.\n\nWould it be green? Would the eyes be huge, or buglike? Would it even have eyes? What would it's skin feel like? Smooth, and slimy, or scaly and hard? Would it have a face? Was there any resemblance at all to anything he had seen before? \n\nHe peered at it, and the face peered back.\n\nIt was... human?\n\n\"Yeah, that's right kid. Human. One hundred percent. NASA trained and launched. Quit your fantasies about bug eyed monsters from Mars, and get me out of here, quick!\"\n\n \n" ]	3
	[WP] Through the faded window, the world bloomed.	[ "Some say it could have been prevented. But it's too late for could-have-beens now.\n\n\nIn retrospect, the signs were there all along. We were even vaguely aware it might eventually happen. But apparently our greed and narrow-mindedness can destroy even the best of plans. There were so many things interacting with each other and leading up to this. I can think of a few things off the top of my head.\n\n\nAt first, we didn't know and weren't even aware of the impact we had on our planet. Once our scientists had a suspicion, they were covered up by greedy corporations who knew full well what they were doing. The scientist community had later confirmed their suspicions with undeniable facts, and the news had spread quickly thanks to the new media. Unfortunately, their views on the matter were not shared by everyone, partially because of this new media and information sharing. Their opponents were many, and their misinformation spread as quickly as the truth.\n\n\nThis spreading of misinformation was to become a common experience in various areas of expertise and was coupled with sensationalism. Truth did no longer matter. This was problematic, to say the least. Unfortunately, it met in a horrifying fashion with another problem. That of ignorance, under-education and general lack of critical thinking among the populace. They were swayed easily by charismatic texts and speeches. They ate up the misinformation as if their lives depended on it.\n\n\nThis, in turn, fed into the next part of the vicious cycle. Those who sought political power had to gain approval from these very masses. A candidate seeking a position of great political importance needed support from those who agreed with his ideals. Some of them wanted this power to better the world. With these ideals it was difficult to gain support from the masses. They were only interested in themselves. Of course, some voters agreed with these political heroes-to-be, but they were too few to make a difference.\n\n\nIn the end, power went to those who pandered to the masses. This filled greedy pockets, fueled wars, promoted racism, and brought about more bloodshed. Despite some last-ditch efforts by concerned individuals and organizations, a chain of events was set in motion that could no longer be stopped. The damage was done.\n\n\nThe conflicts got worse as the realization set in. We were doomed, and we had only ourselves to thank for it. \n\nAs the missiles were fired, the world bloomed.\n\n__________________________\n\nSorry if it's a bit rambling, I had some trouble spitting it out in a coherent manner.", "Through the faded window, the world bloomed.\nAs the seasons passed by, and time was consumed.\nWe waited inside, for the changes to come.\nPatiently waiting for what we'll become.\n\nIs it fair to assume that the future is bright?\nOr do we just say that to sleep well at night?\nHow can we be sure that the changes are good?\nWe don't wanna help, but maybe we should.\n\nInstead of just waiting and hoping and praying.\nThe future you have is quite far from dismaying.\nGo out and do something good for yourself.\nYou will be helping the world change as well.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n", "It was gorgeous. Even a crude fighter and Scathalith like Hilary had to admit it. The carefully disorganized gardens seemed to stretch on forever, the streams and shallow pools trickling over smooth stones and under narrow bridges. Tea houses and shrines poke out above the tree line, their tiled roofs burnished with fiery copper. The tinkling temple bells sounded out over the gardens, heralding the dawn and all that it brought with. Beyond the doors of his Spartan quarters servants and handmaids moved to ready their mistress, moving as quietly as mice lest their disturb their lady's rest. \n\nHilary Flint turned away from the narrow window and looked over his own assigned quarters. They were Spartan in nature, the furniture and decorations austere even for their Salamander hosts. Bare wood floors were polished almost to a mirror sheen, and carefully waxed to show the beauty innate to the wood. A small scroll held what Flint assumed was a poem or short text, its words were naturally in Salamander, its harsh strokes and furious punctuation testament to its creator's inner rage. About par for your average Salamander. An armor stand held his meager kit, the carefully cleaned mail and steel cuirass topped by his lobster tailed helm. His rifle and pistol would be in the care of a trusted servant, the weapons to dishonorable to be seen in polite Fae society. His bedding was carefully rolled up, no beds or hammocks or what have you. The Race of Fire was notorious for their deliberate militarization, how every facet of their lives and society seemed directed towards war. The popular saying was that a Salamander was a warrior first and a Fae a distant second. But even their nobility had need for creature comforts and conveniences.\n\nHe was already dressed, having finished his morning ablutions and eaten. Eggs cooked in a fiery sauce with dark bread fresh from the palace's ovens and washed down by a pot of hot herbal tea made his meal. Simple, hearty fare. He knew Faith would dine much more elaborately down in the courtroom. \n\nHe slid the door to the right, stepping onto into the common room that took up the large majority of this suite. Dark haired servants scurried to hurry up their tasks, placing vases of fresh flowers onto low tables and bowls of fruits besides them. They bowed as they passed the veteran blade, and vanished from sight like a dream. \n\nLayers of silk covered Flint, the robes falling to knee length and dyed the dark blue and silver colors of the Owl Clan. He wore his own trousers, though etiquette demanded he wear sandals with soft leather soles instead of his own hobnailed boots. The better to protect the floors his Salamander guide said. Ridiculous notion.\n\nA noise from behind another door brought his attention to the left, the sound of a door being slid aside heralding the awakening of Faith. Sure enough, standing in the doorway flank by enough servants to constitute a small army was his charge, clad in all the expensive finery and ceremony of one of her status. Her robes seemed to trail a good three feet behind her, the elaborate layers and fabrics no doubt costing a fortune. She smiled as she saw him, and flicked open a fan to hide her mischievous smile.\n\n\"Ready?\"\n\nFlint nodded, patted the hidden knives on his person.\n\n\"Always.\" \n\n ", "It’s always worth the wait.\n\nEven for the tough jobs like this one. I’d been in hypersleep for more than 12 years this run, but, of course, that didn’t really count. 12 hours or 12 years, it all felt the same. \n\nWell, a few more kinks to stretch out, maybe.\n\nSetting up was longer too. I’d landed in the middle of a glass storm, and that had raged around my pod for nearly thirteen cycles. The geosurvey was complete by the end of the second, and the drill was calibrated and placed on standby before the end of the sixth. I’d given serious consideration to just moving forward by cycle eleven, but I held out. I ran the survey results through the sim instead. \n\nAny job worth doing, is worth doing well, as my Da used to say. \n\nOnce the storm cleared, I checked the pod for structural damage, and except for the scratched up glass of the window, it was pristine, as always. After double-checking the integrity of the drill bit and manually securing the pod in case another storm kicked up, I pulled my goggles securely onto my face, blocking out all light, before blindly making my way to the compartment at the rear of the pod. Decades of practice saw me safely to it, and I ran my finger along the biometric lock to open the case containing this world’s seed.\n\nI always wonder what they look like, the seeds. Even through my suit, I can feel the immense heat that they put off. And the sound? Man, it’s something else. In training, a buddy of mine said it was what he imagined a phoenix song must sound like. \n\nAppropriate.\n\nI slipped the seed into the open compartment at the base of the drill before closing and sealing it with another swipe of the finger. Turning to face the control panel, I ran a mental checklist one final time, before verbally activating the drill. Then, I counted off the recommended twenty seconds before pulling back my goggles. \n\nI wasn’t blind, so I checked off another successful planting. Twenty-two. That might be a record.\n\nHeading over to the only window on the pod, I settled into the plush chair that I had installed after my very first planting. I figure that if I’m going to wait, I might as well be comfortable. I had almost nodded off when the control panel chimed to indicate the return of the drill. Sitting up a bit more, I locked my gaze onto the bleak landscape beyond the safety of my pod.\n\nAnd through the faded window, the world bloomed.\n\nI smile and begin preparations for my next trip, stopping to glance outside every few minutes. The log says 14 years this time, but I don’t mind.\n\nIt’s always worth the wait.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n" ]	4
	[WP] You are the only practical and sensible person in a group trying to survive the zombie apocalypse. The sole reason you stay with them is because of their insane plot armour.	[ "God I hate them. \n\nAll 8 of them, it's a big group, which is hard to feed, hard to water, harder to protect, I was the 9th member, I joined when there was only 3, yet somehow more had come in, just as annoying and frustrating as the first three.\n\nThey did ridiculous things, going back into zombie infested grounds for a locket, starting fights in the middle of camp because someone slept with someone's wife. \n\nI can give you role call, a list of these morons.\n\nFirst was the 11 year old, somehow through all the zombie apocalypse his family had kept him perfectly safe, dragging him around everywhere. He hides at the slightest bang.\n\nNext, his mother, a bitchy woman who swore up and down that the 11 year old's father was out there waiting for them some where. She's violent and somehow has managed to run into a horde and right back out the other side too.\n\nThird, the teenager, 11 year old's older brother, angry, sulky, prone to running off or being found making out with our next contestant. He's rash and pouty.\n\nFourth, the OTHER teenager, a 17 year old girl we found hiding in an upside down car, cowering from zombies. Easily scared, not much of a hand with a gun. At least the older brother was a decent shot. The two are dating. Apparently.\n\n5th came the military vet, he's drunk, he's distant, we don't know what the hell he's doing half the time but apparently he's decent at what he does, because even when he's experiencing one of his legendary heart-ful moments he still manages to be wearing enough layers the zombies can't bite him, or he turns at just the right moment, or some random shrapnel falls on the zombies head, RIGHT THEN. \n\n6th is double denim lady, she's convinced that the zombies can't bite through denim. Somehow, she's fucking right, Jesus Christ. Even though denim isn't that tough when smoothed out over soft flesh, but it seems within the first two weeks of me knowing her she got \"bit\" three times and gives this stupid triumphant face when she merely has to bash their damn head in. She and the \"Leader\" are husband and wife.\n\n7th, the best man, he's always got a joke, and the most amazing luck, constantly trying to get Leader to lighten up and offering emotional support. I've seen his ass be blown up and just as we were fixing to leave he crawls out from under a metal door and, \"OH HOLY SHIT HE'S ALIVE.\"\n\n8th, the leader, he's a \"Good man with a chip on his shoulder\" because he has to make all the \"hard\" decisions. I get shooting someone in the brain isn't the easiest thing to do, I shot my elderly grandma, I shot my parents both, and my baby sister. He takes it to another level because he's the kinda guy that takes everything to an extreme. Oh no, we can't steal that, it's wrong, look at that family. Oh no, we can't just let these suspicious kids die here, even if they do turn out to be a trap it's still the moral thing to do!\n\nI'm just a perfectly normal person. I don't know how much longer I can take this. Our leader apparently knows how to handle every situation because he's a cop. Not even a good cop, one of the shitty ones that came from a small, racist, shitty town. Don't argue with him, he knows what he's doing, no matter how improbable the results turn out. \n\nHe's wanting us to go into a highly zombie infested part of town so that we can gain supplies, we could go to one a day's drive away and avoid all the zeds. \n\nHowever no one listens to me, I would leave right now if not for the fact everyone of these damn assholes have amazing luck. \n\nWhat can you do, I guess.", "\"Forget it, Laura,\" Dave said, \"I'm going after her, and that's all there is to it.\"\n\n\"Me too,\" Trish agreed, strapping her combat knife to her leg.\n\n\"Guys, I'm not arguing that you shouldn't,\" I said, trying to keep the frustration out of my voice. \"I'm just saying there's a motorcycle dealership on the way. Why don't we stop and get some armor? You can't just run around in jeans and a t-shirt!\"\n\n\"UGH. Not this again.\" Dave rolled his eyes and Trish tried to hide a weary grin. I'd been traveling with these morons for about a week and a half, but was starting to feel my desire for human interaction thoroughly slaked.\n\n\"If there's one thing I'm glad died with the old world,\" Dave said, \"It's helmet laws. I'll be damned if they rise from the dead, too.\" He swung a leg over his chopper and kicked the starter to life. Trish climbed on behind him.\n\nThe thing was at least 110 decibels.\n\n\"Hold on, do you have your--\" but before I could finish the sentence, they had roared off down the road toward town.\n\nA glance over at my ATV anwered the question: Their walkie-talkies were still next to the charging cradle. Next to. They hadn't even charged them up after I'd insisted they take them last time.\n\nI sighed and climbed in to the cab, going over my pre-mission checklist:\n\n--\n\nVEHICLE\n\n☑Vehicle Mechanically sound\n\n☑No loose panels\n\n☑Batteries fully charged\n\nCOMBAT\n\n☑Armor free of defects\n\n☑Alpenstock\n\n☑Air tank full\n\n☑Marker in good working order\n\n☑Ammunition\n\nFANNY PACK\n\n☑Emergency rations\n\n☑Water purification pump\n\n☑Walkie-Talkie\n\n☑Door cable\n\n☑Door wedges\n\n☑Soldering torch\n\n☑Multitool\n\n☑Ball Gag\n\n☑Flash Light\n\n☑GPS\n\n☑Crybaby\n\n--\n\nEverything looked good, so I punched in the hospital on my GPS and trundled off after the two idiots.\n\nSure enough, the road into town was full of zombies, no doubt drawn by the passing cacophony of the motorcycle. When they saw my little ATV, they came shambling toward it. I pushed through the mass, the large wedge welded to the push bar parting them like the red sea. They scrabbled at the cab, but the polycarbonate panels I'd bolted over all the openings afforded no purchase to their questing fingers.\n\nI keyed the gate signal on my walkie-talkie so it would patch me through the shortwave repeater I had set up back at base camp. \"Alcatraz, this is Laura. You there?\"\n\nAfter a few seconds, Joey's voice came back, \"Hey Laura. What's up?\"\n\n\"Trying to save these idiots' kid. They fucking left her behind on a salvage mission. Can you believe that?\"\n\n\"Shit...is she okay? Did she radio you?\"\n\n\"No. Every time I tell them to take their walkie-talkies they act like I'm their mom asking if they packed fresh underwear.\"\n\n\"Jesus. So...where are you?\"\n\n\"Just crossed the border into Utah. It'll probably take me a few more weeks to reach you, especially when I have to waste charge on bullshit like this.\"\n\n\"Well--oh, shit. I got a bite. We got 3 Salmon over 30lbs already today. I'm telling you, the zombie apocalypse was the best thing that ever happened to fishermen. Talk to you tomorrow?\"\n\n\"Over and out,\" I confirmed.\n\nI saw Dave and Trish's bike parked in the hospital lot, surrounded by a milling sea of zombies. I flicked a switch on the dash and the salvaged ice-cream truck PA on the back of the ATV stared blaring an off-key Turkey in the Straw. The zombies surged toward my little vehicle in a wave, and I led them on for a few blocks before shutting off the PA and dropping a crybaby through a small hole in the floor.\n\nA crybaby was a device I built a few dozen of after scavenging a toystore in Denver. They're just the voicebox from a baby doll wired into a cheap walkie-talkie. When triggered remotely by the CTCSS from my radio, they start to cry like an infant, the perfect decoy or bait for zombies.\n\nI triggered this one immediately and left the majority of the horde behind, searching dully for the nonexistant baby while I circled back to the hospital.\n\nWhen I got there, I climbed out of the hatch on the roof, alpenstock at the ready. It's a weapon of my own device, based on the old mountaineering tool. It's a 6-foot rod of oak, topped with the head of a spontoon tomahawk. It had good reach, and in close-quarters situations I can unscrew the top two feet to make a one-handed weapon.\n\nI cleared out the handful of stragglers that had stayed behind or followed me back, then climbed down and headed into the hospital. \n\nAs I made her way to the second floor, a pair of zombies, one in scrubs and another in a medical gown, burst out of a door and tackled me to the ground.\n\n\"God...damn it,\" I muttered. They bit and pawed ineffectually at me as I struggled to get to my feet. Apparently frustrated by the impregnability of the kevlar motorcycle jacket to human teeth, the doctor zombie tried to drag it up to expose my belly. \n\nUnfortunately for him, I'm not a complete moron. My jacket is affixed to my pants, gloves and hood by heavy brass zippers, secured from working their way open by little steel clasps on the zipper pulls. Even my socks and pants are attached that way--you can never be too careful about crawlers.\n\nI couldn't really get a good angle to swing my alpenstock, so I brought up my paintball marker and put a 12 gram lead ball into the patient's skull, then kicked the doctor off and spit his head open with the alpenstock.\n\nI got up, checked the integrity of my armor, and was about to get back to searching when I heard the worst imaginable sound: gunfire on the roof.\n\nI swore under my breath and sprinted up the stairs, my panting causing condensation on the inside of my mask. I burst out onto the roof to find Dave, Trish, their daughter Coral, and a couple of strangers were desperately trying to fend of an advancing swarm of zombies.\n\nI raised my marker and peered through the reflex sight. I took down four zombies as I advanced, then dropped another with a kick to the knee with my steel-toed boot and executed it.\n\nThe paintball gun was a little .50 cal that had belonged to my neighbor's kid back in Indiana before all this started. It didn't need gunpowder, just compressed air from the SCUBA compressor I had back at base. Additionally, it made hardly any noise and I could cast my on ammunition quite easily--all I needed was some scavenged fish weights or old pipes.\n\nUnsurprisingly, Dave was already out of ammo for his stupid revolver, and Trish was brandishing her combat knife as if it was any fucking good at all. The strangers had a shotgun and a glock, and between the three of us we managed to finish the job.\n\n\"You alright?\" I called.\n\nThe shotgun and glock immediately swiveled to point at me.\n\n\"Why are you wearin' a mask?\" the big bald guy with the shotgun demanded.\n\n\"Oh for fuck's sake, it's to keep the fucking zombies from biting my fucking face! Why are you wearing cutoff shorts and a wifebeater? The world is crawling with creatures that want to gnaw you to death and nobody even wears a goddamn jacket!\"\n\n\"Sorry about her,\" Dave said, \"She's kinda preachy.\"\n\nI closed my eyes and counted to ten, then walked over to the door through which the zombies had been coming and closed it, jamming a doorstop wedge from my fanny pack underneath.\n\n\"Okay,\" I said, having regained my composure. \"Was anyone bitten?\"\n\nEveryone shook their heads. The scrawny guy with the Glock surreptitiously hid his arm behind his back.\n\n\"You. Glock. Did you get bitten?\"\n\n\"Uh...no.\"\n\n\"Tell me the truth.\"\n\nShotgun turned to Glock. \"If you got bit, tell me, so I can shoot you in the head.\"\n\n\"Or what?\" Glock demanded.\n\n\"Or I'll shoot you in the head.\"\n\n\"Nobody's shooting anybody in the head!\" I shouted. \"Look! I've got a ball gag. If anyone got bit, they can put it on for 24 hours, and if they turn, they'll be no threat to anybody.\"\n\n\"Laura!\" Dave said sharply, \"We don't give out charity! The people are more dangerous than the zombies out here!\"\n\nI stared at him. A creeping realization suddenly dawned on me. \n\n\"Oh my god,\" I said, \"You're all infected. You're all zombies.\"\n\n\"Laura?\" Trish said. \"I think you're overheating in all that armor. Why don't you take it off?\"\n\n\"No, seriously,\" I said, \"That's why everyone I've met have been acting like idiots. You're not full zombies, but you are infected. The disease hasn't completely hollowed you out, but it has lowered your intelligence and turned you into paranoid, violent, stupid assholes who can barely utilize the resources around them. That's why people can manage to lose against an enemy that just walks toward noises in a straight line and then tries to bite them.\"\n\nI suddenly felt myself smile. \"Actually that makes this a lot easier. So long, idiots. I'm going to California.\"\n\nI turned around to see a thick plume of black smoke coming out of the door I'd emerged onto the roof through.\n\n\"Uh...Dave. Do you know anything about this?\"\n\nThe pride in Dave's voice was audible as he said, \"Yeah! We lit a couple fires downstairs before coming up here, to prevent any zombies from following us. Who're the idiots now?\"", "“But I want to go shopping?”\n\n“Pardon?” \n\nThere’s an incredulous tone to my voice as Irespond, she wanted to go shopping? Had she not seen the streets outside, not seen the current predicament that we were even in? \n\n“I can’t believe it...”\n\nI mutter the words quietly before looking at the blonde woman, there was something awfully strange about the two people I had found. The blonde was incredibly stupid, she didn’t understand what a Zombie even was, yet for some reason the zombie’s literally had no interest in her. \n\n“I’ve decided we’re goin’ shopping! We all need new clothes!”\n\nWith another sigh I look to my other companion for help, yet as usual he was miles away. Barney was a man that you could say ‘was not of this world.’ He lived somewhere else, every now and then he’d come out with the smartest of things, then he’d retreat into himself. It didn’t help that Barney was the brother to Emilia, so of course, he went wherever she did. \n\nI couldn’t believe these two were brother and sister, they were nothing alike, one incredibly smart and the other incredibly stupid. Barney was a scientist, he said he could create a cure for the zombie disease, or whatever was causing it. \n\n“OK great, you pick the direction then.”\n\nDespite the fact that he could apparently make a cure, their travels to the last survivor stronghold had been incredibly slow. Emilia would constantly come up with random things for them to do, incredibly dangerous things that made no sense, yet, we were surviving somehow. Life had actually become so much easier since meeting the pair, zombies just seemed to be less interested in me since I started following them around. It was as though they were protected by something.\n\nAt first I’d thought that maybe Barney had taken some type of cure himself, something that was maybe keeping the zombies away. Yet the other day one grabbed at him, tried to bite him, and yet somehow we’d managed to get out of that situation unscathed. If it was a movie I’d only call it, well, plot armour.\n\nIt takes a few moments before Emilia is leading the way out of our hiding place, heading towards the large shopping centre located even deeper within the city. It didn’t take long before she was going the wrong way, and with that I stepped in.\n\n“Hey Emilia, how about I lead the way?”\n\nFortunately, she simply nodded and with that I led the group through the back alleyways. There weren’t many of the dead around, the few here turning their head to sniff me. They’d lunge slowly but by the time they were near I had already walked past, the creatures wouldn’t even grab hold of Barney or Emilia. \n\n“So you’re telling me, you survived this apocalypse on your own, right until this point?”\n\n“Yep! Just me and my brother! Ain’t we smart!”\n\nI don’t respond, there’s no point. I’d worked so hard at surviving up until this point, I’d lost friends and had to kill. Yet these two were waltzing around, shopping, had located the cure, living as though nothing had even changed. It was almost enough to drive me nuts, to drive me over the edge, yet I hung on. They could get me to safety, I knew it…\n\nClick…\n\nI knew that sound, instinctively I froze, Emilia not realising walked into me, knocking me over. Before I could stand up there’s a boot on my hand.\n\n“Now hold on there partner...”\n\nMy eyes solemnly move over the dirty boot, before moving up further to see who he was. I’d never met him before, yet that didn’t matter, the clicking had indeed been the hammer of a revolver being pulled back. \n\n“Bandit...”\n\nEmilia screamed of course, yet a quick whack from the Bandit shut her up quickly. Kneeling down the man takes the knife from my belt, using it to cut the backpack’s straps and pulling it away from me. I didn’t have a gun, never been lucky enough to find one, the knife was all I had.\n\n“Get up sonny, be real slow now or I’ll shoot all of y’all.”\n\nI do as the man says, now getting full view of the man, he was dressed like an old fashioned cowboy, it was definitely a strange sight.\n\n“Everything we own is in the backpack, I don’t have anything else, nor do I have food, I’m sorry..”\n\nThe bandit’s blue eyes lock with mine, that’s when I realise, he’d been bit, he was going crazy, turning.\n\n“Don’t worry, I ain’t got no need for food, I’ll be after yer’ brains soon though!”\n\nManic laughter escapes from the man and I gulp, slowly the bandit raises his gun and points it towards Emilia. No, that wasn’t right, these guys couldn’t die. They weren’t allowed, I’d spent so long with them, they’d kept me alive, whether they meant to or not, I owed them.\n\n“Such a pretty face, I’m sorry, ma’ lady.”\n\nWith that the man pulls on the trigger, but I’m already moving. Jumping forwards the bullet strikes me in the chest, the force almost enough to knock me back. The pain is excruciating yet I couldn’t let that stop me, they wouldn’t die, I couldn’t let them. Pushing myself upon the man he falls over, pulling the trigger again as another bullet is sent flying into my stomach. Raising my head I smash it into the man’s nose.\n\nYet the Hellish pain wasn’t over, there’s a burst of pain in my leg and I look down. A zombie had crawled past the other two, ignoring them completely before it had started to chomp on my leg. Why did nothing make sense, nothing at all?\n\nThe man struggles to get my weight off of him, but I have his arms pinned. Reaching down I grab at the zombie’s shirt, before pulling it up with all of my strength. The dead man tries to bite at me over and over, grazing me every now and then, but I’m filled with determination. As I bring it up I then push it against the Bandit, the creature showing no discrimination in who it wants to eat as it now starts to chomp at the man, who starts to scream in pain.\n\nThat was when I realised, that in sticking with the two I hadn’t been protecting myself. I had simply become another form of plot armour for the two people. Bleeding out on top of this bandit, who’s still screaming in pain as a zombie bites at him, Emilia walks past, not even batting an eye lid…\n\n“I guess you’re not taking us to the shopping centre then, we’ll see you later!” \n\nAnd with that the brother and sister carry on walking.. Leaving me there to die…\n\n\n\nSidenote: A bit rushed I'm afraid, did it before working. Might not be quite what you were after however I do hope you enjoy! :)" ]	3
	[WP] John was tired. John wanted coffee. Unfortunately John was currently defending the last city on Earth.	[ "these...demons inside us. everyone has them. after all you and i aren't so different after all. shame it took us too long to figure out. \n\nJust over half past three in the afternoon. it started again, the cacophony of air-raid sirens and explosions. its crazy to think that just over a month ago, i was eating at a subway, eyes glued to the dusty flat screen monitor, watching some a washed up news anchor drone on about the Kardashians. I had little to no appreciation when there was everything. now nothing, and it means everything. \n\nThe Northern hemisphere was hit first. cities; hundreds of them, disintegrated in the blink of an eye. and in their place were grey towers, placed haphazardly throughout the now charred earth. \nwhen it was time for the southern hemisphere, skies once blue, were painted grey. By this time the other half of the globe was nothing more than a barren wasteland. Now it was our turn. The skies lit up white, a light so bright covering your eyes with you palms would allow you to see the outline of bones and tendons. many thought may have thought the same as me, was this god?\n\nour city seemed to be protected, under some kind of bubble. or force field. along the horizon there was nothing, no trees, rivers, lush plains of grass. they were all gone. except for us. and it was all thanks to some nut, now known as a prophet among us; he claimed he knew and was told through a dream to build a contraption no larger than my fist. effectively saving what we could only assume to be the last of humanity. \n\nThe first few weeks we banded together. gathering resources and planting vegetables to support what we had left. A first it was sustainable, then over time our resources started diminishing. to make matters worse, ships flew over the city, dropping bombs and artillery. technology that we seemed to have. only they had the means to wipe out the whole of mankind with just one of their advanced contraptions. though nullified by a psych ward patient.\n\nthe bombings increased. we had little to combat, guns, rifles. these seemed to drive them only to higher altitudes. with no sign of a mother ship anywhere. we started to fight for resources, at first. but quickly stopping ourselves, in search for an alternative. and when there wasn't any to be found. We were free. \n\nMe? i'm not sure. it seems where ever i was there wasn't any bombs, in fact the ships flew around me. taking detours, just to avoid me. at first i thought maybe it was a statistical anomaly. so i found myself to go to areas being actively bombed. upon my arrival, the bombing almost immediately ceased. \n\nIt would only be troublesome if people knew. but they seemed busy. busy fighting newly formed factions, to get what little was left. Many started resulting to cannibalism, i don't blame them. though, i just wanted my coffee, before loitering around those primitive war zones. saving what i could. These demons are what we really are.\n", "-----\n\nSTART OF LOG\n\n-----\n\nIt is over. The Allied Forces, our world, have fallen. The Axis, and China, were all bearing down on us.\n\nI, John, am one of the only defenders left on earth. We have to defend from the alien threat, be they Aryan or Coloured. Our race is crumbling, and everything is falling apart.\n\nNow is one of the only quiet times, when we could take a break from the endless hordes of gigantic mecha and hovertanks.\n\nThough it was not always like this.\n\n-----\n\nLife was always simple. It consisted of drinking the tea of our Motherland, asking God to save our Queen, and doing work in the most British fashion possible.\n\nGreat Britain was the only human country in the world. All others were aliens or monsters, as far as we were concerned. Now, it is the only country in the world.\n\nWe used to have a vast empire, where trade flowed. It spanned all the way from the far west to Oceania. Human civilisation was at its peak, always withstanding the black Orcs from the Middle section of the Eastern lands, and the Mongoloid monsters from Northeast.\n\nHowever, one day, everything changed. We lost contact with all our colonies, with their last broadcast being screams of terror. It was only to be assumed that they got torn up, simultaneously.\n\nNow, I sit here, defending this land with our comrades and Edisonian contraptions. All I want is a cup of coffee, and some tea, and a nice English breakfast.\n\n-----\n\nEND OF LOG\n\n-----\n\n", "John was tired. John wanted coffee.\n\nCoffee, John had found, was the only thing that cleared his mind. It was a very busy mind, you see, and when one has a busy mind one can not overlook anything that will tidy away the clutter.\n\nYou may feel that you also have many things going on in your head. You may not have sympathy for poor old John. True though that may be, I doubt you have quite the same overwhelming cacophony of thoughts as John. Poor old John has to worry about defending the last human city.\n\nQuite a lot has happened since those pesky aliens gatecrashed the human race's party. John was excited at first, because he had spent a childhood gorging himself on as much science fiction as his little brain could handle. Unfortunately for John, the imagination of those behind said science fiction was somewhat lacking in that they could never envisage a world where the human race didn't triumph over an invading species. Perhaps that's why everybody seemed so happy to greet them when they arrived. At least until the welcoming committee were designated as lunch. \n\nJohn sat on his chair atop a rickety viewing platform and watched the large disc-shaped vehicle float in his direction. A flying saucer? How dreadfully trite of them. \n\nThere wasn't much John could do, of course. He was defending the last city and doing so alone. Typical. Even when it's a global war with a dominant alien invader, John is still an afterthought.\n\nThis would not do. John knew this would be his last day and there was one thing he was going to do. He climbed down and walked to a cafe down the road.\n\nJohn was tired. John wanted coffee and John was certain that he was going to get it one last time." ]	3
I can feel the breeze through the sweet soaked, black sack over my head. This could only mean that I'm outside. I would have be more pleasant about this realization (I had been kept inside for what seemed like months after all) if not for the sound of clanging rifles and the set of rough hands pushing me forward. I know I'm probably going to die. The thought of it struck me hard, though. I don't want to die. At the very least, I would like to know why I'm here. Through all the vague and confusing questions that they have asked me, I could not discern the reason. All they say is that I'm a criminal, and that I'm going to be shot for my crime. What crime!? I probably have asked that a dozen times. Each time, they produced an answer that was as equally vague as their line of questioning. I can feel them tying me up to a wooden post. God... This is really it isn't it? I'm going to die. Shit! There is no way out of this. What I really need now is a miracle. What do they call it in storytelling? Right... It's called a Deus ex Machina.	[WP] Help me Reddit! I've been blinded, bound, and placed in front of a firing squad for execution. Write me out of this situation!	[ "It seems you’ve landed yourself in quite a rough situation. Blinded, bound, facing a squad set on shooting you. Have you ever heard of the theory that reality is different for each person? The theory that reality is based on who is currently observing it? I’ll help you out of this mess you’re in and together we’ll pull off a grand caper. As long as enough details match up, hopefully no one will catch on. Pull the wool over the universe’s eyes. Don’t worry; you don’t need to do anything except read on.\n\nAction.\n\nYou sit against the wooden post, your senses more acute now that your eyes can not see. The post is smooth and stiff, and the ropes are loose, allowing a little wiggle room. There is a group of men surrounding you, their well-polished rifles aimed directly at you. There is no question that they are all cocked and ready to fire. Your thoughts wander, when will you die? (Something everyone thinks about at one point or another, but this isn’t a good time.) Thinking back you get an inkling of how this all came about. That piece of paper you signed. The c_ _ _ _ _ t form. \n\nA clang of metal against metal interrupts your thoughts. Someone in a group beyond the surrounding one says in a hushed tone, “Careful with that. Each shot is precious.” You can’t see the men around you, but you can feel it is time. They’ll unleash their load and you’ll feel the warm, sticky liquid flowing down your skin for a few moments. A bright flash, like the muzzles of multiple rifles going off, assaults your eyes even through the sack on your head. Just as your body involuntarily braces for impact…\n\n“Cut, cut, cut! What kind of amateurs am I working with? Get his fat ass out of the shot!” The director roared.\n\nYou hear the sound of muffled crying as one of the men around you runs off.\n\n“Damn. I forgot how sensitive he is. I’ll have to spend all week patching things up now. All right everybody, we’re done for the day. Take the sack off the lead’s head and put your sacks away too.”\n\nAnd that’s how your career in amateur porn ended. \n\n*****\nCouldn't quite work in the crime and criminal aspect, but hopefully the other details were close enough. \n", "> June 25, 2023, Sweden.\n\nDenial, anger, bargaining and depression. I went through all of these feelings as I felt a cold rifle barrel touching my back. I know there's five steps, we learnt that in middleschool. Denial, anger, bargaining, depression and what was the last one now again? Acceptance, that's how I'm going to get out of this situation, accepting the inevitable. Death comes to us all one time or another, there's really no way to escape it.\n\nBut in some ways death is a gift, making us appreciate the little time we have, living our fragile lives to the full. Fragile lives, I'm going to be a perfect example when my spine gets cleaved by the massive 7.63x39 round fired from the supposed Kalashnikov that the insurgent behind me had pointed against my back.\n\nThe acceptance I was hoping for didn't come, and when I heard the famous click from what I thought was a M1 Garand I just... Gave up... There was nothing I could do, nothing in the whole, wide world that could save me.\n\nI clenched my whole body, praying silently to whatever holy being that would listen. Sweat began forming in clusters all over my skin, dripping down through the bag they put over my head. Goodbye Christof, goodbye Emmie and goodbye my dear Ellie. Oh god, Christof and Emmie is going to live without a father the rest of their lives, from the age of 3... And my wonderful wife Ellie is going to be a widow, dressing in black, remembering her former husband. The only thing that will be left of me is an insignificant bloody spot somewhere in the forests of Sweden.\n\nThe roar of the bullet made me deaf, and the sound of my head splattering was sickening. I felt a splash of blood hitting my back, and when the insurgent behind me fell and hit his head on my back, I realized that my life continued and that it wasn't my head that was obliterated. The rest of the bullet storm was hard to remember, with the sound of a helicopter and a chain gun raining fire upon the people behind me, I assumed. \n\nSuddenly someone grabbed me and started dragging me, all this while screaming: \"SEALS. We'll get you home! Don't worry.\"\nI let out a small shout, that was supposed to be a thank you to the soldier currently dodging rifle fire for my sake of existance. When he threw me onto the heli, another soldier pulled of the hood I was wearing. The light was unbearable, with sunrays shining through the leaves and reflections from the metal guns on the ground.\n\nThe helicopter took of, and just as the soldier who rescued me got on, his head got blown off. The blood was everywhere, making it's way into my eyes. I puked straight out of the flying metal horse. I believe I manged to hit one of the insurgents in the face, atleast I hope so, they deserved it.\n\nWe didn't get far away from the compund until I heard the pilot screaming: \"RPG! Hold on for fucks sake!\"\n\nFire, oh god the fire, it engulfed all of us. Screaming in pain, both the pilot and the 7 soldiers that inhabitated the heli jumped out of the wrecked, and crashed helicopter. I managed to get out of the situation with only third degree burn wounds all over my body, but the others weren't so lucky.\n\n> March 2, 2024, Texas.\n\nI live alone, without my wife nor kids. They were horrified of what came back from Sweden. A monster, a disabled mentally disturbed monster. You see, back home, after my long walk through the woods of Sweden towards the American embassy in Stockholm, I caught PTSD from my experiences. I became a trainwreck, incapable of communicating and socializing like a normal human being. And my face was burned to the point were no plastic surgeon could fix it.\n\nI turned on channel 76, and the news began point on 7:00. The news reporter looked horrified and slowly opened his mouth:\n\"The United States of America has begun nuking key insurgent positions in Europe, destroying thousands of civillian homes, killing billions of people. The radiation sickness in the continent has rised to 400% and several countries have declared war on America.\"\n\nThis was the last television program me, and the rest of America would ever experience as a EMP strike hit USA 7 minutes later, knocking out the power network for good. It wasn't until the alarm sounded that I got scared though, the alarm for nuclear war...\n\n--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------\n\nLet me know what you think, english isn't my first language so there isn't many details. And I mix up narrative stand sometimes. But yeah, critique is appreciated.\n\n", "\"Mr Grey. You have summarily been found guilty of crimes against the state. I would ask you one last time. Do you wish to tell us why you committed such an act?\"\n\nThe man on the post was small, grubby. The thick scent of body odour radiated off of him, worsened by the stench of his adornment of soiled rags.His emaciated knees knocked together, spasming involuntarily, sweat flowing freely down his chin and dripping repulsively onto the grass.\n\nHis hands had been bound roughly with cable, a stifling back bag shoved over his sunken head. Occasionally a zephyr would blow, flinging strings of saliva over his thrashed chest.\n\n\"I... I don't know what you mean,\" he rasped, muffled by the bag, \"What crime do you mean. What... what is it?\"\n\nA bolt of pain surged through his cheek, then another, and another.\n\n\"We know what you've done, Mr Grey. The crime with which you have been charged has already been established. Your unwillingness to answer our simple question concretes your guilt. Make peace with your God.\"\n\nHe started to thrash around. Who were these people? They were going to kill him! They were going to shoot him and leave him to die for a crime he didn't commit!\n\n\"Let me go! I've.. i've done nothing wrong. I don't know what you're talking about. I don't want to die here!\"\n\nThe sound of boots snapping together. Weaponry clicking, the rustling of grass as his soon-to-be executors positioned themselves.\n\n\"I don't want to die here! Oh God let me go! I've done nothing wrong, can't you see that. Haven't you asked me enough questions to prove... to prove i'm innocent.\"\n\nTears dripped, soaking the bag, a salty torrent pouring over his ruined chest.\n\n\"ON MY COMMAND. THREE. TWO. ONE. FI-\"\n\n\"Hold your fire. Agents, stand at ease! Release this man immediately.\"\n\nThe bag was yanked from over Mr Grey's head, bright sunlight forcing him into a squint. He breathed in deeply. It was months since he had last felt the outdoors on his skin, the fresh air in his lungs.\n\nIn a row before him stood a thin line of men, lean and eager, each clad in the same identical black suit. Sunglasses masked their eyes, and each were aiming sub-machine guns at him. In the centre of the row stood another man, encased in a long, black coat. His face was impassive, no sunglasses, but no expression either.\n\n\"Deputy Director Finnian. You are carrying out this impromptu execution on orders which have recently been redacted. Rútursson attempted to push them through approval without my express permission, before he entered... mandatory resignation.\"\n\nThe man tied to the post cried out, sobbing to his saviour.\n\n\"Thank... thank you, kind sir. How can I ever repay you. Oh, thank you, thank you. Bless you sir.\" \n\n\"Silence, you malfeasant. Whilst Mr Rútursson was undoubtedly a paranoid cretin, his reputation for making astute observations surrounds him even now. If he thought it necessary to include your execution in the expenditures of his division, then it is highly probable that you deserved it. Finnian, instruct your death squad to march this man to my floor. Wolfgang Grey, we shall meet again.\"\n\nMr Grey's saviour limped off into the crowds, cane sinking into the mud.\n\n---\n\nThe office was a masterpiece. Paneled with dark wood, a vast sheet of glass stretching an entire wall, displaying the bustling city below.\n\nSitting behind the intricate desk was Mr Grey's saviour. His cane lent up against the side, shining a brilliant silver in the midday sun. He was an older man, grey hair thinning on the top, yet he filled his pinstriped suit like a glove, exuding power and cultivating terror. He scribbled unhurriedly with a silver pen, selecting certain sheets from the stacks of paper on his desk, looking up at his captive ever so often.\n\n\"Scotch? My secretary Alice has it flown in from Scotland. A particularly fine barrel. Finance Division calls it a blight, but then again I've just had to negotiate a re-budgeting with the Prime Minister.\" \n\nMr Grey shook his head. \"I... I just can't believe this has happened. You've had me trapped in a hole for months, you nearly shot me, and now you're offering me whiskey? What is this?\"\n\nThe man in the pinstriped suit smiled, raising a glass to his lips. \"You had the unfortunate displeasure of running afoul of one of my former Deputy Directors. To be completely honest, it's been years, not months. And your holding cell was far, far bigger than what we would call a hole.\"\n\n\"So you've kept me in some dingy little room for years, and now you're correcting my facts? You need to apologise to me man! And maybe you'll get round telling me what crime you thought I did.\"\n\nThe besuited man rose from his position behind the desk, grabbing his cane. He strode deliberately over to his grimy internee. He bent low, staring with dead eyes into those of Mr Grey.\n\n\"Why don't you realise now that what you experienced was a mere fraction of the potential atrocities which play across my fingertips. Your execution, which I took upon myself to personally stay, would have been one of mercy. Simple bullet wounds, then a queue jump pass at a local crematorium. Whatever... Deus ex Machina you think you have encountered on this day. I could have someone reverse it quicker than my secretary could throw her whiskey over your face and introduce it to a lighter.\"\n\nMr Grey spat a thick wad of blood onto the varnished floor. His throat burnt. It was probably the dehydration. Probably. \"Shut up with your excuses. Tell me why i'm here.\"\n\n\"I thought I WARNED YOU already! Perhaps I ought to incarcerate you into what I call 'a hole', instead of your pathetic idea of one. Or maybe i'll have the venom of a Russell's Viper injected into your bloodstream. Daboia Russelii, it has a nasty habit of coagulating the blood of it's victims. Oh, wait, what's that? I did inject you with it? Such a terrible pity, it really is.\"\n\nMr Grey tumbled out of his chair, coughing foul gluts of blood onto the wooden floor. \"You've... you've killed... me.\"\n\n\"Precisely, Wolfgang Grey,\" the man in the pinstriped suit said, standing in the doorway, \"Sedition is a terrible crime. I could have you tried for High Treason, but I thought your family might find this method less humiliating. That is, if they ever find you. One should be more careful when posting to online forums, and one really ought to realise, that there is no way of escaping me in the end. Good day.\"\n\nThe doors slammed shut. Necrosis would set in soon, perhaps severe facial swelling. Poor family wouldn't even be able to recognise him. \n\nAnother job for the cleaners.\n\n\n \n\n\n\n" ]	3
	[WP]Anthropologists in the distant future are fascinated with the dawn of the Information Age. Many of what were the largest online communities of the time are believed to be actual nations. Discuss the rises and falls of the Red Dits, the 4th Chan Dynasty, the Gaians, etc.	[ "Name Of Empire: Red Dits \n\nBackstory: The empire of the Red Dits was established sometime around 2000-2010 by King Steve Huffman and Prince Alexis and although it started very small like most empires of its time it's influence leaked into other civilizations such as Facebook.\n \nIt's believed that the Red Dits came under attack from the 4th Chan dynasty led by one Christopher Poole. Although they were heavily outnumbered due to being a younger empire still in its infancy they proved to be very mighty warriors and mercilessly retaliated. The war began in 2020 and ended in 2023\n\nThey also proved to be very resourceful, using their massive data banks and resource stockpiles to help other civilizations such as identifying missing people and were proven to be very charitable as they gave large sums of money to poorer people. \n\nBut despite their good nature they also proved to be rash and unforgiving, when one of their leaders that went by the name of Ellen pao displeased the citizens by removing parts of history they revolted and only stepped down when she was exiled and even then the tension remained between the citizens and their government for many months.\n\nDuring their reign they seemed to follow the ideals of Genghis Khan, they were relentless and merciless to their enemies and were responsible for the fall of many civilizations and religions such as The Book Of Faces who worshipped a god known as Mark Zuckerburg. \n\nBut like Genghis Khan they also proved to be very kind to their own and their allies such as their allience with a neighbouring empire called Imgur, this alliance was strong for many decades with the Red Dits offering gifts to them which was repayed with access to their massive data banks and they seemed to mingle frequently. \n\nNot much is known of this great empire after these events. The latest piece of information we have regarding the Red Dits dates back to 2132 and shows their downfall by the hands of an unknown enemy. Although it's suspected that the downfall of this empire was due to a mass civil war that resulted in the devastation of the empire. Only legends know what really happened after that date.", "Excerpt from the Annals of Early Non-Physical History. All bibliographic data and multimedia has been omitted. For full citations, images, sounds, movies and vr-tablets, please place a request at our portal. \n\n--\n\nNationhood was a fairly young concept for the time, one that was believed to be fundamental and yet not completely correlated to a holistic sense of the self. From the fall of multiple loyalties in first-millenial middle ages (a politico-economic system called feudalism) to the rise of the Westphalian order since 1648 culminating in the freedom of the colonies in the late twentieth century, nationhood gradually became a precondition for social existence. If you occupied a patch of land and breathed its air, you had to live under the banner of one nation or another.\n\nIt was natural thus, for the early second millenials to take this belief with them into the digital world.\n\nWhen you import an idea so foreign to a terrain so different, you end with nothing but a disaster. Perhaps our readers would understand it better if we use as analogy an event they're more familiar with. When we colonized Kepler 45b we imposed on the frontierspeople our ways of living, our morals and standards. We applied to them a justice that was derived from earthly existence, something they weren't suited for. Marriage for example, makes no sense when after five generations the frontierspeople turned androgynous, or perhaps, more accurately, sexless; devolving the functions of reproduction to cultured wombs that were randomly assigned to members of the population for nurturing and upkeep. Yet, when they'd come back to Earth for their reports, we'd make them stand on trial and throw at them civil suits for marriage, adoption, inheritance, divorce and what not. In retrospect, nobody doubts that it was a bad move- they declared themselves a separate, antagonistic species and the friction still continues.\n\nAnd perhaps, if the millenials had the opportunity to retrospect, if they belonged to that pivotal generation that saw the disruption of the line between the physical and the digital, they would've seen it coming too.\n\nBut historical records confirm that the early second millenials did not quite get this. For them, the blurring of the \"real\"-digital divide was a metaphysical matter. For they gaped at a fearful assymmetry- the real could morph the digital in ways that the latter couldn't. So it was always subordinate, a small extension of the real, rather than a distinct and autonomous entity. They brought their foreign ideas into the alien world and tried to morph it in the image of the imperfect world around them.\n\nLet us take for example, a \"nation\" of the era that called itself Stormfront. These people, although nothing but a bundle of bits and bytes like everyone else, differentiated themselves on the basis of their real selves that carried a certain threshold of melanin in their skin, eyes and hair. They fought a great war with many other nations, and the war turned the digital world into a wasteland not unlike the real world at the time, which was staggering under pollution, overpopulation, reduced biodiversity and war. I must add that during those times there were \"common arenas\" where all people interacted such reddit and yahoo answers, but they always carried with themselves the badge of their nationality, baggage from the real world. And that was the cause of their downfall.\n\nSo it is easy to understand how the early second millenials did not quite comprehend what they were after. They thought that they occupied, primarily, physical spaces, and their online existence was merely a trifle. A small projection of their personality upon the wast imprint of cyberspace. But with the advent of technology, they gradually understood the depth and extent of their own selves, how it was far greater than the small geometrical confines of their body and the meek possibilities of their humanly form. If it were not for the pivotal generation, perhaps our ancestors would've been caught in the endless cycle and humanity (and all its auxiliary and derived races across the universe) wouldn't be where it currently stands.\n\n", "Entry 105A4E7 of the Conglomerate Central Library Historical Database:\nCountry Name: Reddit\nContinent: Com, adjacent to Org, Gov, etc. (amongst the rest of the Information Age countries prior to the wars.)\nHistory: Reddit rose from the Blogosphere, a once orbiting satelite, and fell to Earth near the North American continent (gathered from the fact that mostly Americans immigrated to become \"Redditors.\") \nWith a massive influx of immigrants and no infrastructure set up as of its creation, it was not sustainable until ants right activists started a trade system called \"memes\", common to many countries on Com. A thriving trade in gold soon followed and activism for cats, atheists, and political extremists sustained it's Meme economy for many years. There were a handful of transfers of powers, many many of its valued citizens thrown into the great Shadow, but ultimately it was destroyed by... [Continue Reading]\nKnown Information: Few artifacts remain from Reddit, but there is powerful speculation that the society was once\"Admined\" (as it is referred to) by aliens, refereed to as Snoos. These pale, legless creatures controlled and manipulated the information Redditors accessed for a very long time until the soon found a default \"Subscription\" that all enjoyed. Very little but thousands of documents remain, but are there is more to discover, as they are all encrypted under the ancient \"HTML\" system, so far outdated it takes many hours to decode a single \"post\", as their communications were called. Most recently, new discoveries have found the NSFW tagged information, whatever that means. The analysis of this information has been slow, however; the research team has been thorough in looking at and analyzing the mostly images filled content. I may never know what makes this knowledge in photographs so complex..." ]	3
	[WP] A closeted teen is forced into participating in track during high school. While the rest of the class looks on and laughs at the teens posture with their hands in their pockets, the laughs are quickly silenced at the sound of the gun.	[ "Because the race had started, and everyone was staring. As the other runners took off, young gay Kyle still couldn't figure out how to rollerblade in a straight line.\n\n\"Kyle get off the track! You can rollerblade in a 1/4 mile dash!\" The coach said.\n\nKyle just stared back, with one hand on his hip, the other limply waving at who he thought was his father in the crowd, but really was just some stranger.\n\nThe race ended before Kyle even got to take off. \n\nHe had to awkwardly walk home in the grass wearing his mis guided roller blades where he later dropped out and founded a company called trader joes. \n\n~fin~", "I didn't want to be here. I don't like running...at least not in public. Running loosens my inhibitions, and then it can be hard to keep the Other at bay. The Other is stronger than me, but short-lived. I must keep calm to keep the Other away. If the Other is here, then people can get hurt.\n\nUnfortunately, I am in high school. I am a minor and as such, the law requires that I attend school. I am nearly seven feet tall and am as lean and lanky as anyone you'll ever meet. Because my school requires that I play a sport, I am constant the target of ridicule.\n\nAnd unfortunately, track is the only sport I can play. It's the only sport with such low competition that I can keep myself calm. I cannot do that with basketball or lacrosse or baseball.\n\nI suppose I could do it on the swim team, but when you're as tall as I am, swimming of the pool is nearly impossible.\n\nSo I run. I don't race. My stamina is such that I can last a long time and out pace most anyone.\n\nWe are running a mile today. Teams from every corner of our state are here. Everywhere I look people are starting at me. Not good for them, not good for me.\n\nI can feel Other's prescence.\n\nLet me out.\n\nNo. You're to be kept at bay until it is necessary.\n\nDo you not want to win?\n\nThere are more important things in this world than winning a sport, Other.\n\nIt's been months since the last attack.\n\nThank God for it. You're too dangerous.\n\nBut I need to feed. I need your strength and without me--\n\nPut a sock in it, Other.\n\nLook it wasn't my idea to put us in this symbiotic relationship.\n\nAll the more reason for you not to get a say now. This is my life, Other. You're just visiting. \n\nHow dare you!\n\nYes, I dare. Now hush. We have a race.\n\nLet me out. We can win!\n\nWhat part of no, do you not understand?\n\nBut they're laughing at us! We're a mockery.\n\nOther begins to whine about not being out to feed and tarts to ramble on. Damn him. I never should have watched that senator on CSPAN. That filibuster on the drones went on for hours and now whenever he doesn't get his way, Other tries to filibuster too.\n\nI ready myself, and that's when I hear it. The sound of a gun. Not an ordinary firearm. No...\n\nI turn around so rapidly, my ears pop. There before me, hovering above the crowd in a mechanical suit of his own design is him. Haman, the Headhunter.\n\n\"Hello, Mordechai. It's been a long time.\"\n\n\"You have no fight here! Begone!\"\n\n\"Begone?! How biblical of you! I just got here! Let me stay a while. I so do love a good race.\"\n\nHaman raises his gun. More of a blaster really, and then he aims it at me.\n\nLet me out! Let me out! Let me out! LET ME OUT!\n\nHaman fires.\n\n\"Okay, Other! NOW!\"\n\nTo be continued...\n\n", "I stood at the starting line. I was focused. I was ready and in the zone.\n\nI glanced sideways and saw the eyes were all on me. They expected me to fail. They wanted me to fail. They craved my failure. The other racers were ready. They thought this would be an easy win.\n\nThe race was about the start. The starter pistol was raised. Then the shot went off.\n\nThe pistol never went off. There were screams. The screams never felt so good to hear. They'd laughed at me for years. The racers had not realised what had happened and were running. I chased them, the hunt was always the best part.\n\nThey assumed the screams were cheers. How wrong the were. When they heard the next five shots ringing out they assumed the starter pistol had been misfired again for an unknown reason. Wrong again. They fell like bowling pins. \n\nOne. By. One.\n\n\nI reached the finishing line. I won. No one would ever say I was slow. No one would ever bully me and most of all. No one would live. The school was too crowded. It was my job to help pick out who needed to go. \n\nAll I knew was. Only me and my boyfriend deserved to stay. I am prepared for what comes next.", "They all thought there were so much better than me. Handsomer, Smarter, Richer, Happier.\n\nAnd they weren't wrong. That's what fucking got to me, the fact that they were right to fucking laugh at me. Fuck, if I were in their position I would laugh at the goddamn ugly bastard sulking by the starting line.\n\nI would've given anything to be in their place.\n\nDoesn't matter now, I suppose.\n\nThe run had yet to start but my heart was already pounding hard and short of breath, out of pure rage. The coach looked smug, one hand on his stopwatch, the other holding a checkered flag.\n\nJust a practice, after all. No need to get out the starter pistol.\n\nMy hand clenched tight around the handgun in my pocket.\n\nWe'll goddamn see who can run the fastest, who will have the last laugh at the poor fucker on the bottom.\n\nThe flag went down, as I rose, gun in hand.", "(A/N: Okay so, for some reason I immediately thought of this Madoka Highschool AU where Homura keeps getting shoved onto the track team the second week she's back. So. Yeah, that's what I wrote. You can just scroll past this if you're not interested, I won't mind. I did this primarily for my 750 words challenge, so.)\n\n---\n\nTheir giggles ring in my ears and make my head ache with a dull anger. \n\nMy hands are hidden in my pockets, my hands clenched into fists. My thumb worries against the engraved ring on my middle finger, and it's the only thing stopping me from shaking.\n\nI don't even want to be here. I have better things to do, and I don't want anything to do with these people, with the bullies that have made my life hell so many times. The worst part is, they don't even remember.\n\nThey've called me weak. They've called me a freak. They've sabotaged everything I've tried to accomplish. I've learned to outrun my anxieties, my temper, my nightmares- Perhaps if I go fast enough I can even outrun their mocking voices.... but its so much harder to outrun my memories of failure.\n\nI don't really want to be here. But Auntie wants me to do something \"productive\" with my time. She has no idea how much I have to do with my \"time,\" or even how much of it I really have. Of course, I can hardly tell her any of that, so since she has to work late this month, she signed me up to the after-school track club without even talking to me first about it. As she always does. It would really save me time (Ha) if I could figure out how to convince her not to. But I haven't yet, and perhaps I never will.\n\nSo here I am, once again, standing on the track, surrounded by giggling cheerleaders, as they laugh at my androgynous clothes and my stance.\n\nThe other runners give me side-eyed looks as they get into position. I don't move. I'm waiting for the signal, for the opening act, the curtains to pull back, ah no- I'm just waiting to get this over with. The only person I care about is standing over by the goalposts talking to her friends and passing a bottle of strawberry powerade around. She isn't even looking my way.\n\nThat'll change in a minute.\n\nThe coach walks to the middle of the track, the starting pistol in his hand. The runners shift in place anxiously, readjusting their footing as they wait. I've done this too many times to care about appearances now.\n\nHe lifts the gun.\n\nThe shot rings out. I grin at the sound and launch forward, enjoying, just for the moment, the adrenaline and what I know comes next.\n\nThe laughter snaps abruptly silent. \n\nI reach the end of the lap long before anyone else.\n\nI turn towards the goalposts, and see the girl I love looking back at me, mouth hanging open and her eyes bright with awe.\n\nI realize now why I'll never really convince my aunt not to sign me up for this nonsense every time. It's worth it, just for this moment. This one victorious moment. Every time.", "The laughter... the laughter tore into me. The laughter at how I was standing. At how I looked.\n\nWhile the other racers were in the beginners stance. I stood with my arms crossed. \n\nI never wanted to be here. I never wanted to be on this team. Honestly I'm not sure why I'm still here. My parents relented and allowed me to quit if I wanted to. But here I am, still on the team.\n\nI guess it's because I'm decent at it. One of the few things I'm actually good at. Or maybe because of him. \n\nI got paired up with him to run relay. I'm not sure what divine intervention paired us up. But something must have been at work.\n\nHe was one of the few people who never laughed at me. \n\nI heard someone clear their throat to my side and I looked over. There was coach, giving me the look.\n\nGuess he wants me to take this seriously. \n\nI roll my eyes and get into the same stance as the others. A few seconds later the gun fired and we were off.\n\nI ran, ran away from the laughter; from all the names. From everyone who decided I was worthless. \n\nAnd ran towards him. The person who was probably the only reason I'm still here. On this team or life in general I'm not sure. But he makes it bearable. \n\nWe got closer and from what I can tell, I have a nice lead on the other runners. \n\nHe starts moving in time with me. His hand reaching back. As it grips the baton and mine lets go, there was a spark between us. A pull that towards him. \n\nI started slowing as he took off trying to increase the lead I built up. \n\nWhen he crossed the finish line I realized the reason I was still here.\n\nThe way he smiled at me, that soft friendly smile. The smile of a friend. \n\nThat's probably all it will ever be. But I can be happy with that. \n\nBecause a smile is all I need to drown out the laughter. \n\n---\n\nI'm new to this sub and I'm still trying to find my writing voice \n\n/r/BlinsinWriting has my prompts I've done so far if you want to check out others.", "The starter gun sounded and he was bounding down the track, the awkward posture shifting into a low runner's stance. Feet chewed up and spat out the ground beneath him. The laughs died as he rounded the lap, sweaty hair falling in his face, his breaths hard but regular. \n\n\"Pretty good time, Whately,\" someone said. \n\nHe looked at them and imagined bullseyes in the middle of their foreheads. \n\nWhy so surprised, he thought to himself. You're the reason I got so good at running." ]	7
	[WP] A group of friends in their 30's invent time travel and jump back into their 18 year old bodies, excited to take a different path in life! The only problem is that they've forgotten everything in school and don't graduate..	[ "This is part 2, no Idea how to put it below the one I already wrote but you should read that one first :D \n----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------\n\n\n Scott composing himself, walked into the stall to sit down. He couldn't believe it, was he 18 again? Did he somehow get transported back to his 18 year old body? He'd have to find Dave to explain all this, if only he could remember what class he'd be in right now... \n\n Damnit! I can't even remember half the kids I graduated with how am I gonna remember what classes Dave was taking?! \n\n Scott thought frantically to himself. He remembered where Dave and Greg's old houses were and started concocting an excuse to get out of class. He was good at that, making up a reason to get out of something. He'd remembered how much trouble he'd gotten into when his mother caught him skipping out on classes. \n\nIf I'm being honest, dear old mom was really the only reason I graduated in the first place... \n\n Dismissing the thought, Scott walked to the principal's office clutching his stomach and fake moaning. He hadn't forgotten how much of a sucker the guy was. \n\n3:00 rolled around and Scott walked out of the convenience store slowly working on a soft serve cone. He rounded the corner of the street and continued down a few blocks towards Dave's. As he walked, Scott passed a park he remembered that his friends and him used to hang out at and play catch. Scott yearned to be able and just go sit down on the bench and be bored again like old times. Caught daydreaming, Scott didn't see Dave frantically running down the street chasing a, at the time, very athletic Greg charging head first in his direction. As the two crashed into each other, Dave slowed to walk as he approached his friends now caught up in tangled mess. Wheezing, Dave spoke. \n\n\"Good... God... Greg... You moron. Ahhh god I haven't been this out of shape in nearly 15 years. Could you just sit still for 5 mins while I explain to you two numbskulls just what the hell is happening!\" \n\nScott and Gregg collected themselves and joined Dave on the nearby bench, eagerly awaiting an answer to all of this. Greg broke the silence.\n\n\"...So?! What the hell is this man?! Why am I 18 again?\" \n\nDave spoke calmly to Greg and Scott. \n\n\"Ok ok. Listen, I may have lied to you guys. The machine downstairs in my future selfs house is actually more of a timeline jumper.\" \n\n\"What in the fuck is a timeline jumper?\" Scott asked. \n\n\"If you'd shut up I could explain. Ok so imagine your conscious exists in one line, we'll call it Alpha. In Alpha, you live your life as most everyone does and of course you're faced with choices. Each choice you make however almost always has a second path or multiple even. What my machine allows you to do is observe these extra 'choices' and how they play out for you in the future. The kinks I was working out however were pertaining to the purple button Greg so 'surreptitiously' pressed.\" \n\nDave shot a heated glance at Greg. \n\n\"Well good lord man how the hell was I supposed to know!\" Greg shouted. \n\nScott interjected, \n\n\"Would you just never mind it you two?! Dave what were these kinks you were mentioning?\" \n\nDave continued. \n\n\"Well I'm not entirely certain but from my limited testing and analysis... Instead of going back down our Alpha to observe different paths, We've created a entirely new line. The first Beta I've ever tested. Even I'm confused on why we still have memories of our Alpha since we're technically completely new entities. But if my hypothesis is correct, the longer we stay here the faster Beta becomes permanent. Meaning that Beta becomes the new Alpha.\" \n\nBoth Greg and Scott sat there a tiny bit confused but grasping the situation enough to feel a sense of dread creeping up on them. Greg turned to Dave and asked, \n\n\"Well... Can you get us back?\" \n\nDave, a small smile forming across his lips, responded. \n\n\"Of course, before Greg pushed that damn button I was able to grab the remote.\" \n\nDave pulled out the long, slender silver box of metal. Whirring silently, the little device lit up in his hand. \n\n\"Unfortunately its damaged, it shouldn't be difficult to fix. It will just take some time. Tonight I'm going to write down all the materials and calculations I'll need in a form that any of us can understand in the event my memory starts fading.\" Dave explained. \n\n\"So what are we supposed to do in the mean time?\" Greg asked quizzically. \n\n\"Blend in, try not to act out of the ordinary. You are in fact still living here for the time being and in the dire event I can't fix the remote, you'll need to continue existence in the Beta.\" \n\nSoaking in Dave's words Scott mind began to race. Thinking of all the potential opportunities that awaited him in this timeline. Completely lost in thought he hadn't noticed both Greg and Dave had gone back to their parents home's. He stood up off the bench and walked back to his parent's house and into his old room. Heavy metal posters covered the walls and a thick layer of clothes matted the floor. Scott sat down at his desk and pulled a notepad out of the drawer. He began to write down, from memory, Dave's first business strategy and all the companies he would be able to invest in with the money he would make. Scott wasn't going back. He was going to make the life he always wanted here in Beta, whether his friends agreed with him or not. \n_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________\n\nAs promised your part 2! I have an idea to continue but I don't mind it being a little open ended ;) Again very cool prompt let me know if you liked it :D\n\n \n\n \n\n\n\n\n\n ", " Scott stared at his phone, reading the replies in the group message concerning 'wing wednesday.' A time honoured tradition that, since hitting his thirties, was becoming exceedingly difficult to continue. \n\n Scott sent a reply to the group, \n\"Hey, fellas I'm not sure I can make it tonight.\" \n\n It wasn't a matter of whether he could or not, actually he had more time these days than he new what to do with. Being single and 36 with a decent income tended to open up a lot of free time. Unfortunately, life had become boring for him. Too lazy to take up a hobby and certainly not successful enough to up and quit his job, he'd find himself lying around watching Netflix and eating unhealthy more often than not.\n \n He sat there thinking back on his younger years pondering the career choice of IT. Had it really brought him all the money he was told it would? He remembered his high school classes and how much he'd loved chemistry and reminisced on his old hockey days. Scott felt his phone vibrate, glancing down he read the text.\n\n\"Come on man, you skipped out last week! You have to come! Dave says he's got a 'surprise' for us.\"\n\n Caught up in his nostalgia, Scott sent a reply back. \n\"Alright, alright Greg. Fine I'll be there for 7.\" \n\n Greg had always been pushy ever since they were young, never letting anything go down without a fight. It really helped him excel as a business man. Not like being a business man was Greg's first choice by any means. \n\nScott laughed to himself, \n\nif only he had just listened to Dave and I, he could have got that soul sucking witch of his off his back forever. \n\n Pushing himself off the couch, he grabbed his keys and walked downstairs feeling just as uninterested in wing night as ever.\n\n Arriving at Dave's house was always a treat. The valets were always kind and the hedges, so perfectly trimmed, gave the roundabout driveway such a lush, and inviting look. Scott stepped out of the car and handed his keys to the valet. Watching his Acura take the far turnoff to Dave's garage always filled him with a little envy. Dave would always park his lighting blue Koenigsegg in eyesight from the front door. Every time Scott would stare dreamily at it, only to have the moment ruined by his red Acura pulling into view. Scott pressed the doorbell and Dave's voice came on over the intercom. \n\n\"Heeey! Scott old buddy old pal how ya been?\" \n\nScott answered, jealously detectable in his voice. \n\n\"How bout you let me drive the Koenigsegg and I'll tell ya.\" \n\nDave fake laughing responded, \n\n\"Ahaha! In your dreams buddy. Come on in.\" \n\n Scott entered the massive house, Dave always had a new chandelier in the front room every time he visited. There had only ever been two he'd liked and this one didn't make this list of his favourites any longer. Scott walked down the hallway to the living room where Greg was already sitting watching the game on the projector screen and stuffing wings in his face. Dave, sitting near the kitchen island, acknowledged Scott with a head nod. Caught up momentarily, he was zoned in to his laptop screen which was displaying some stock investing site. Ever since he sold his first business he had found very good fortune in the stock market. Those TV shows that cover such events called his ability to invest in companies 'uncanny' and he was once accused (jokingly) of being able to see the future. Noticing Scott standing, Greg grunted at him to sit down. Scott, not recognizing the two teams playing, asked quizzically. \n\n\"who's playing right now?\" \n\n Greg garbled out, \n\"Washington... Philadelphia. Philly is getting pummelled.\" \n\nScott looking to ruffle his buddy's feather's a little bit, boisterously spoke. \n\n\"Sooo, the old ball and chain let you come out tonight.\" \n\nScott could see the vein thickening in Greg's head. \n\n\"Listen man, I'm here every wednesday. No matter what. She knows that and she can't take that away from me.\" \n\nScott, sensing he'd gotten to personal, offered to grab Greg a beer. \n\n\"Hey man I'm sorry, I know you really enjoy these 'guy nights.' Need a beer?\" \n\nGreg responded, \n\n\"Yea that'd be nice.\" \n\n Scott walked up to the fridge. Turning with beers in hand, he made eye contact with Dave. Scott spoke up and asked, \n\n\"So Dave. What's this surprise you've got for us?\" \n\n Dave's eyes lit up. Excitedly he remembered why he had invited them over. Closing the laptop, he addressed his friends.\n\n\"Come with me boys, I want to let you in on my secret.\" \n\n Scott and Greg both a little confused, followed their friend down the stairs. The trio arrived in front of one of Dave's less expensive works of art, only to find that the solid mass of marble could be moved back and forth like a door. Entering the door, the three found themselves in an elevator that took them deep below Dave's house. \n\n\"I have to keep this thing deep underground. It hides the energy signatures this thing gives off.\" \n\n The door opened before Greg or Scott could ask what the 'Thing' was. Exiting the elevator, Dave used the hand and retina scanners at the end of the hallway to open up what had originally looked like just a part of the dark grey that walls consisted of. \n\n\"Sorry about all the security measures fellas. I mean, this is a time travelling device after all.\" \n\n Mouths agape from what they had just heard, the two friends approached a futuristic looking machine that had a detachable remote set on a pedestal in the centre. Scott turned to Dave in shock. \n\n\"Is this... Is this how you became so loaded?!\" \n\nDave launched back, \n\n \"Hey now! Give me a little more credit. This thing wasn't cheap to build I needed money from somewhere. But if you're referring to how I got to be the second richest in the world then yes. This machine has played a huge part in that.\" \n\nScott couldn't believe it a time machine. He immediately asked what both Greg and himself were thinking. \n\n\"Can we... y'know try it?!\" \n\nDave answered, a tone of worry in his voice. \n\n \"I mean, sure I guess. I haven't really worked out all the kinks but nothing has gone wrong so far. If you guys want to I can go set up the time and date over on the interface. What time did you guys want to travel to?\" \n\nScott blurted out, \n\n \"Highschool! Man that'd be so cool to go back as an adult and see it for what it really was! Not through this binoculars of nostalgia.\" \n\nGreg nodded his head in agreement, already toying around with the remote. Jokingly he said, \n\n\"Yea maybe I can tell my idiot younger self to not be silly and wrap your willy.\" \n\nThe three shared a laugh. Dave spoke up after with a warning, \n\n \"Guys I know I shouldn't have to tell you this but you know you can't do things like that in the past right? Absolutely no contact with younger selves purely observation.\" \n\n Both Scott and Greg nodded, they'd watched Back to The Future they were well aware of the rules. Dave, stepping off the machine's platform, went to go and enter the time into the interface. Scott took a seat near the pedestal, imagining the adventures they could have with this device. For the first time in forever Scott felt excitement, genuine excitement for something in his life. Greg, meandering about the machine, called out to Dave asking what the 'purple button does.'\nDave not hearing him, started the count down and entered the machine with his friends. Greg never taking kindly to not being answered went ahead and pressed the button. Dave screamed, \n\n \"YOU IDIOT!\" There was a huge flash of light, Scott felt like he was being stretched seven different ways and then compressed simultaneously. \n\nBANG \n\n Scott was in a classroom. Lying on the floor, his gaze was met with that of an old women. Her hair in a tight knit silver bun and her glasses half way down her nose she was looking down on him with beady eyes. \n\n\"Ms. Saron?\" \n\nScott asked bewildered. \n\n\"Yes, and you're Mr. Carruthers. Now get back in your desk this instant young man!\" \n\n Scott stood up and looked around confused by his surroundings. He remembered this room, it was his english class in grade 12... \n\nBut... Dave said we would only be able to observe... \n\nScott thought hurriedly. \n\n\"Ms. Saron, May I use the bathroom?!\" \n\nTaken aback Ms. Saron replied, \n\n\"Well... Uhh, yes take the pass. And no shouting in class!\" \n\n Scott quickly walked out of the room and headed towards the bathrooms. As he walked he saw a banner hanging over the hall, 'Class of 1998!' He looked to his left and saw his dented locker all his hockey teammates would hit with a puck for good luck. Running now, Scott crashed into the bathroom and looked into a mirror. He found himself staring into much younger and hopeful eyes. Scott backed away, finding support on a nearby garbage can. Thoughts flying through his head Scott tried to focus on just one.\n\nOh my god, I gotta find Dave and Greg.\n\n______________________________________________________________________________________________________\n\nSorry for the length! I know the story seems unfinished it's cause it kinda sorta is but I have other things to do tonight and also not entirely sure if you would want more. Anyways really cool prompt!\n \nEDIT: part 2 below!\n\n\n" ]	2
	[WP] On your way to your job interview, you bump into someone. You turn around to see who it was, you see yourself walking away. Looking in a window's reflection, you realize you're not you, you just swapped bodies with the other person, and they don't seem to care.	[ "I look across at this...person, on the other side of the table. Reading the paper while the coffee cools off. Not a care in the world. I drum my fingers on the table. I cough a bit too loudly to get their attention. Nothing.\n\nFinally I reach over the table and smack the paper out of their hands.\n\n\"We're gonna talk about this. And you're gonna fix it. Now.\"\n\n---\n\nIt wasn't my plan to waste the morning in Starbucks. I'd finally gotten my shot at a plum job at Druffler & Grone, the big investment firm with the gaudy tower downtown. I had everything they wanted. I had a knockout pitch ready to go. I knew guys in the management there. I couldn't wait to get out of the crap retail job I'd been working since my last company folded.\n\nSo there I was, in my sharpest suit, in the steel-and-glass foyer at Druffler & Grone, briefcase in hand, marching into that office to dominate this interview. (Five minutes early, of course, to make a good impression.) Up the elevator to the executive offices, down a long hallway to meet with my future employers. I was within sight of the boss's secretary when some lady came storming out of the office in a royal huff. She smacked right into me - wasn't even looking where she was going. Whatever, I thought - don't know who pissed in your Wheaties, but it's not my concern. So I went up to the secretary.\n\n\"Good morning,\" I said in my most carefully prepared I-Am-a-Professional tone. \"My name's Blake Norris, and I'm here for an interview.\"\n\nThe normal response to such pleasantries is \"oh, yes, take a seat and Mr. Bossman will see you shortly.\" Not this time. He looked at me like I'd just insulted his mother, or his ugly kid.\n\n\"...seriously, Katie?\"\n\n\"Ex - excuse me?\"\n\n\"Look - I get that things went bad. Okay? I get it. But this is crazy. It's not good. Go get...I don't know, whatever help it is that you need.\"\n\nI took a deep breath. Kept cool. No sense throwing a chance like this away because one secretary was full of shit. \"I'm scheduled for an interview at 10:30. My name is Blake Norris. I talked with you on the phone two days ago.\"\n\nHe didn't look mad anymore. Just...concerned, I guess.\n\n\"Katie - \"\n\n\"Blake. Do I look like a 'Katie' to you?\"\n\nThe secretary raised an eyebrow and pointed to the wall behind me. I glanced at it. A mirror, one of those pointless decorative ones with the fancy frames. I saw him, I saw some lady...\n\nDidn't see myself.\n\nI scrambled over to the mirror. Dark hair, shoulder-length. Blue eyes. Green blouse. Early thirties, I'd guess.\n\nNothing resembling my description.\n\nThe secretary was out of his seat by now. \"Katie...whatever went down in that office just now...I mean, we were - I still - \"\n\nHe put his hand on my shoulder. I twitched back.\n\nNot happening. Whatever the hell this was, it was a bad dream. Too much stress the night before. I'll wake up. I'll wake up and it suit up and nail this interview, that's what -\n\n\"I still care about you Katie. Please - get help.\"\n\nI whipped back around. I could see...myself. Me! Not at the interview, but going the other way, just about to get onto the elevator.\n\nI dashed down there. (Well, as fast as I could - the stupid shoes I had on were not made for sprints.)\n\n\"Hey - hey, you!\" Now that I was shouting, it was obvious this wasn't my voice. Way too high. A little nasally. It felt all wrong.\n\nI - they? - whoever it was barely glanced at me.\n\nThe elevator dinged. The doors opened and they - I? - stepped in. I managed to jam my hand between the doors as they were about to close. I gasped and wheezed as I staggered into the elevator.\n\n\"You...you've got an interview to take. Now.\"\n\nThey said nothing.\n\n\"It's my interview, okay? But...look at me! I can't take it. You have to.\"\n\nA shrug. \"I don't have to do anything.\"\n\n\"This is my future on the line here. I'm already late. Much more and my chances are shot.\"\n\n\"You want me to go into that room, fine. Make me.\"\n\nI might have tried, but then I realized - there was no way I was moving myself. Whoever \"Katie\" was, she was half a head shorter than me (even in the ridiculous shoes) and much smaller. Coercion wasn't an option.\n\nI put my hand to my face and paced around the compartment (as much as I could). No matter how mad I was, the job wasn't happening. No go. But that wasn't all. If I was \"Katie\" now, then what about my girlfriend, and my family, and my buddies, and everyone else in my life? I couldn't just tell them, \"Hey guys, something weird happened but it's still Blake.\" I'd get institutionalized. As long as I was like this, I was as good as a stranger to them.\n\nThe other person - the real Katie, I guess - just had a blank expression. Didn't care. I grabbed them by the shoulders and looked them dead in the eye.\n\n\"Answers. Now.\"\n\n---\n\nYes, she was Katie, she said. No, she wouldn't talk unless we could sit down and relax. Starbucks was next door. I hate coffee, so I got a hot cocoa. She got some elaborate froofy whipped cinnamon something or other and a copy of the paper. Then we sat there, in a secluded corner of the shop, for a long time. I was pissed at her, yeah, but in all honesty, how do you start this conversation?\n\nBut my patience was up. I knocked the paper out of her hands.\n\n\"We're gonna talk about this. And you're gonna fix it. Now.\"\n\nShe leaned back and looked me in the eye.\n\n\"Okay. Here's some talk. You're me, I'm you. Not much else to it, is there?\"\n\nI slapped my palm on the table. \"Oh, I can think of some other topics of conversation. Like: how do we undo this? How do we manage in the meantime? Can we undo this? And - \" I leaned forward. \"Is this your fault? And if it is, why?\"\n\nYet another shrug. \"How do I know it's not your fault?\"\n\nI was blinking back rage.\n\n\"Yeah - because that's what I want, isn't it? To be some random girl I've never met, instead of landing my dream job. Come on!\"\n\nThe baristas were giving me dirty looks. I'd gotten a little loud.\n\nShe just sipped at her coffee. I was shaking.\n\nA sigh. \"Fine, Brent - \"\n\n\"Blake.\"\n\n\"Right. You know, life's great if you've got everything you want. The money, the job, the house, the spouse - you know, the works. But if you're missing one, if you're missing several...life gets old pretty fast.\"\n\nI glared at her.\n\n\"And the worst of it is, you're stuck where you are. You can change it, maybe, but it takes effort. A heroic effort. A heroic effort that might get repaid with steps backward. You know?\"\n\n\"The point. Get to it.\"\n\nAnother sip. \"Well, I'm different. As you've probably guessed. If my life sucks, I can just live someone else's.\"\n\n\"Steal someone else's, you mean.\"\n\n\"A body-snatcher type? Not really my style. You might be shocked to learn that I am, in fact, Katie Miller, and always have been.\"\n\n\"Except right now, and all the other times you weren't.\"\n\nShe sipped some more and tidied the newspaper in front of her. If what she was saying was true, there was a chance I wasn't totally screwed.\n\nBut it was all up to her, wasn't it?", "I’ve just ordered coffee, double shot, black as night, no sugar. There’s a scone on the side, I push it away. I sip the coffee, it’s hot and bitter, just the way I like it. \n\nOr maybe not. \n\nMy grandad used to say: You are the people you meet. I doubt he meant that literally. He was an ambassador in a tiny, faraway country. He used to be an ambassador in a bigger, more important country, but he hung out with the wrong people. The people my grandad hung out with, they had a sixth sense. They knew when a person is ripe to part with their money. And boy my grandad was ripe. Wasn’t long till he graduated from a little rummy to a friendly game of canasta. And then the game became less friendly. And the people with the sense for people being ripe to part with their money, they become less friendly, too. My grandad’s prophecy became reality: In a job where reputation is everything, getting beat up in alleys for owing money will eventually get you out of a job. Grandad was lucky, though: His bosses helped him pay his debts, and they let him relocate to a place where canasta is not very popular. \n\nAs I drink my black coffee which I’m not sure I like, grandad’s words came back to me: You are the people you meet. \n\nAgain, I doubt he meant that literally.\n\nI’m a tall gentleman. In my early forties. Tie: Spotless. Shirt: Spotless. Suit: Creaseless. I have a fancy duffel bag that smells of leather. \n\nBut I was not born that way. No, I was born, and up until a few hours ago was, Amanda. A 23-year-old. Worked at a coffee shop here in the city, not entirely unlike the one I’m sitting in now. It’s an ok job. I think I deserve a better one, though. I write a diary. I have a crush on one new idiot per month. I love my two cats, Lord Hazelton and Zappa.\n\nThen, I accidentally bumped an old man on the street, and as I turned to say sorry, I saw my own butt moving away, and trust me, I’d recognize it anywhere. Amanda, me, didn’t even turn or say anything. She just walked on, and within seconds she disappeared in the crowd. \n\nI, however, was the old man. Cane in hand, raggedy brown clothes. I smelled of wet socks and cat piss; strong at first, and then I got used to it. I felt like I was going to faint and throw up at the same time, though I soon realized that had nothing to do with the shock of suddenly being in another person’s body; more due to the lack of alcohol in the old man’s bloodstream. I stood there, motionless, for a while, people passing by. There was very little I could do, say or think, really. So I just sat down and cried. \n\nApparently, an old man sitting on a street, crying, is not a sight that’d make a passer-by look twice or offer help of any kind. I did get a few ugly, why-are-you-in-my-street looks, though. \n\nSo that lasted for about an hour. And then I saw a pair of spotless black shoes. A well-dressed man with a three-day beard and a duffel bag extended his hand.\n “Do you need help getting up, sir?”\n\nInstinctively, I accepted the offer. And as I touched the man in the suit and tie, I let go of a hand, and saw an old man clumsily falling down to his butt in front of me. \n\nIt took me exactly two tries to get it. And rude as it may be to trick an old man into helping him up, I liked this body better. So I was very careful not to touch anyone as I entered the first available coffee shop. \n\nYou are who you meet. \n\nIt’s odd, the way it works. I’m still Amanda, but I’m also the man in the suit. I don’t think his thoughts, but as I think things, they materialize as they would in his brain, instantly revealing themselves to me. \n\nI thought of my name, and it was Sam. I thought of coffee, and I realized I drink it black (normally I spice the stuff with three sugars and a ton of milk). I thought of work and realized I’m an attorney. But it’s me that’s doing the thinking. And it’s me that’s doing the doing. I don’t know if Sam exists, somewhere, but right now, it’s not my concern. \n\nSurprisingly, this condition of mine, while initially shocking, has provided me with a new freedom. I’ve been sipping my coffee for half an hour now. I’ve thought of Amanda exactly zero times. I guess Amanda is still out there. I guess we’re all out there, in the mix. But right now, I’m having fun. This is easier than I thought. \n\nI do good things. I’m an attorney that works for those who can’t afford it. I dress well, but I have a small car, a quaint little house and a beautiful wife. I can’t wait to meet her. \n\nI motion to the waitress to give me a check; I’m careful not to touch her. I blank out for a second as I think of money. I reach into my pocket and pull out a wallet. There’s money inside. Phew. That worked alright. The waitress gives me an odd look, as if trying to figure out whether I’m for real. Yeah, I’m for real. I get out on the street. I think of my car, but it’s at home. I took the tram to work today. This is actually my lunch break. I think I’m going to skip lunch. I think I’m going to skip the rest of the work day as well. I think of directions; of space; of home. It’s the number 5 tram. I walk up to the station and wait. Should be soon now. \n\nAt the station, four other people are waiting. A woman carrying groceries. Two kids, apparently brothers, the older kid holding a hand over his brother’s shoulder, making sure he doesn’t run in front of the tram. And there’s a girl there who doesn’t wait the train. She’s juggling oranges. She’s not doing it for money, she’s just juggling cause it’s a nice day and she doesn’t appear to have a care in the world. When I was Amanda, I always wanted to be like that. Just do something I like and not care about the tram or work or the world or anything. Her hair is pink. She’s dressed in all the colors of the rainbow. She smiles at me. \n\nI walk up to her and gently touch her shoulder. ", "Today was my big day. After two months of sending my resume to whatever companies I could find, somebody finally called! It was a public speaking job and they had seen my qualifications and had asked for an interview! 5 o' clock, at a place in the city center! So I cleaned up my old suit and borrowed some good shoes from a friend. I even found a nice tie to wear! I also arranged for a friend to drive me there, I didn't want to risk getting sweaty on the bus. Everything had to be perfect for this interview.\n\nAnd then I was there. It was 4:45 outside the LI building. I got out of my friend's car and he sped off the moment I closed the door. As I looked up the shiny chrome tower, I couldn't help but feel nervous. It was my first job that wasn't a 7-11 cashier, or a Starbucks barista. It was the first time I had a job that I could actually tell my friends and family and have them be happy for me! I was so caught up in my thoughts that I didn't realize that I was standing dumbstruck in the middle of the sidewalk with people were walking past me glaring until somebody ran straight into me.\n\n\"Oh man I'm sorry sir!\" I said to the man who didn't stop to acknowledge me. Gah, I hadn't even stepped into the building and I've already annoyed someone. Doesn't matter anyways. I had wasted enough time. It was time to go in. But as I walked up to the glass doors, I looked noticed my reflection. Where was my tie? I swore I put on my tie that morning. I looked up \"How to tie a tie\" on google and everything. Wait, this isn't my suit either! And my shoes had laces! I was confused. And then I saw my face in the glass. \n\nThat wasn't my face.\n\nI panicked. What just happened to me? How is this possible? Who did this? Did anyone see? I looked around at the sea of commuters but nobody had noticed my transformation. \n\nWait, that man who bumped into me. He had my hair. Tall, brown, naturally spiky. And he's crossing the street over there, and he's wearing my tie.\n\nI jumped back into the crowd and pushed through. That man must have answers. It was too much of a coincidence that he would have the same appearance as me. He must have done something to me when he bumped into me. I could barely see him through the crowd but as luck would have it, he turned off the sidewalk into a busy cafe. I watched through the store window as he talked with the waiter and walked through an employees only door. I checked my watch and realized it was missing. Then I looked at a clock in the cafe. It was 4:55. I was going to be late. I needed to find that man. As I walked into the cafe, I ignored the waiter and went straight for the employees only door. It led to a back alley with nobody around there was the man, looking like myself, walking back to the street calmly. \n\n\"Hey!\"\n\nHe turned, saw me, and ran. And I gave chase.\n\nHe burst into the street, and turned left, pushing pedestrians aside. I shot after him through the gaps in the crowd. He was quick, but this new body was a little quicker. He looked over his shoulder at me as I closed in, but before I could do anything, somebody in the crowd clocked in in the face and he fell over on his back, out of breath and moaning in pain.\n\nFinally. I walked over to the man who looked like me and bent down over him. It was time to get answers. \"Alright then you! What the fuck did you do to me?\"\n\nHe looked surprised and confused. \"Who the hell are you?\"\n\n\"I'm the guy who's body you've stolen! Change me back!\"\n\n\"What the hell are you talking about crackhead?\"\n\n\"You know exactly what I'm talking about! You stole my body!\"\n\n\"Jesus Christ, what the fuck is wrong with- wait, what?\"\n\nThe man looked down at himself. His eyes widened and he looked around frantically at the crowd that had encircled us. Then his eyes fell on me.\n\n\"Why the FUCK am I white now!\"\n\n*****\n\nI never got my body back. Neither of us knew who had done it, nor how to fix what had been done so we tried to make the best of the situation. The guy who now had my body was called Derek. I was already late for my interview, and now my body had a nice fresh black eye, but I convinced Derek to go anyways. He didn't get the job. As it turned out he was a better doctor than spokesperson and he was able to get his old job back after some very strange conversations with his coworkers. Meanwhile, I reapplied for the same job that got me into this whole problem, but they never got back to me and folded quietly a week later. \n\nLater that day we saw on the news that the bodyguards of an American ambassador shot and killed several diplomatic envoys of the state before being gunned down by our police force. Of course, nobody would believe that the bodyguards were not in control of themselves. Who would believe something like that? Suffice to say, the country was pissed. And that was the point, wasn't it." ]	3
	[WP] We've known about the sonic boom that comes with going faster than the speed of sound for some time. Today someone finally went faster than the speed of light.	[ "Dull brown eyes stared at her; Half lidded they hinted an experience and an age that his taught skin and long mane of hair seemed to bely. He leaned on a long yellow cane made of a foreign substance, perhaps even wood; the young woman next to him had heard whispers that the professor traded in illegal circles. \n\nShe hated him, From his soft dry whisper, to the faded copper teeth that the longevity treatments had given him. He finally spoke, his voice barely covering the distance between us, \"it was never about if we could do it, but If we should. You, children, don't understand the reprecussion. You have all of our knowledge but none of the wisdom that we found while searching for it. '\n\nShe sighed, tuning him out. It didn't matter. What he had lost in the millenia he had spent existing was a search for more. All the millenials were too tired to dream, the years an unrelenting weight on their shoulders.\n\nHe grabbed her, boney fingers clenching around her wrist. He spoke urgently now, age dropping off him like a cloak. \" Fool! Listen you must cancel your mission now. Light is too similar to sound. It will not release in your wake a thousand images of your ship; they will be compressed and form into a singular wave. The destruction will be unparalleled. \n\nShe smiled at him, a grimace perhaps, but at that point she had long since stopped caring. He had been at this for years; the math was simply not there. Light functioned as a particle, not a wave. It was merely due to a poor understanding of quantum theory that previous generations had thought any differently, unfortunately previous gerenations that he was a part of. \n\nA rumble filled the building as she stared up at my magnificent ship outside, behind over a thousand feet of reinforced diamond and electric fields; the engines were starting. She laughed, \"Nothing besides an old age fusion bomb could stop It now, Professor. Do you have any Fat Boys laying around?\"\n\nHis voice murmured from next to her back to his low drone. \"If only I did.\"\n\nHe stilled as we started as the ship left dock, slowly rotating out of our gravity and started to create it's own. \"Any second now,\" the young woman whispered brushing her hair off of her brow, now covered in sweat.\n\nAnd existence stopped for her and everyone around her in an ever increasing hypersphere around a crewless ship bringing annihilation to the universe. " ]	1
	[WP] "Do you remember what you wanted to be when you were younger?"	[ "For all of Narcissa's positive qualities--the ones that made me chose her among thousands of others--she possessed several very irritating ones as well. Like asking silly questions in the middle of a meal. My typical response would have consisted of a punishment-promising glare, but... the moon was high tonight, the cool night breeze felt fresh against my skin, and the meal was of the finest quality. It was Narcissa's present to me; she had brought it to my home an hour ago, her cheeks still flushed from the thrill of the hunt, her eyes gleaming proudly in the moonlit darkness. And I was proud of her, so she deserved a reward.\n\n\"A knight,\" I finally answered, indulging her curiosity. \n\n\"A knight?!\" She glanced up from the food, surprise crossing her face. \n\n\"Indeed. I wanted to wield a mighty sword and strike down foes of the king. Enemies of our lands would fear me; commoners and bards would sing praise to my name.\" I paused, remembering the days that had disappeared into the fog of time. \"Silly dreams of a foolish boy.\"\n\n\"Now,\" I continued, \"finish your meal, child. It is, indeed, exquisite.\" \n\nShe smiled at me then--as only a loving daughter will smile upon her father--and obediently sunk her fangs into the flesh of the prey... a sweet, delicious college girl. \n\n", "Present day.\n\nTom’s therapist, Max, repeatedly clicked his pen, like every tremor of anxiety focused into his thumb. A light draft of wind whispered into the room from under the door. Tom zipped up his jacket. \n\n“So, tell me Thomas, do you remember what you wanted to be when you were a child?” Max asked, while concluding his point with another click of his pen.\n\n“Real.” \n\n“Do you mind expanding on that?”\n\n“Oh, doc, are you okay with me expanding on that?”\n\nMax nodded, and Tom began to tell the story that made the devil question morality.\n\nTwenty years ago\n\nTom, like a whirlwind, charged through the house with two robots smashing and clashing together. Each pitter-patter of feet would randomly stop due to Tom avoiding the collection of awful paintings that were dumped around the house.He imitated the sound of lasers as his imagination created an unforgettable battle between Captain Mortimus the destroyer and Monster Killer the obliterator.\n\nHis older brother, James, ceased the battle by launching a floppy pillow at his head. He attempted to add a gigantic throne into his drawing, as a symbol that he had not yet fully figured out. His mind would encourage him, force him, to paint certain creations, and only later he would know why. Two paintings, in the whole of his short lived career, had been a success.\n\n“Why do that, meanie!”\n\n“Just shut up, little shit.”\n\n“I miss mum and dad. I wish you left instead of them!” Tom failed to hit James with Captain Mortimus the Destroyer. Instead, it tore through the drawing he had been attempting for four week. The classic,\n‘He’s gunna kill me’ face dawned on Tom. James never swore. Nor did he shout. Straight away at least.\n\nTom was delusional to think he could outrun his older brother.Dragging him by his legs, while his uncut fingernails carved into the wooden flooring, James had snapped.\n\n“You want dad, mummy too? Don’t you see what I tried giving you, us? Well, you want mummy and bloody daddy again, then here!” James pulled out an old, crooked, dry, paint brush, and rubbed it against Tom’s face.\n\nHe would use the brush on a blank canvas after dabbing it on Tom’s face. His little brother’s screams irritated him too much, so he slid the paint brush against his lips and back onto the canvas. His screams stopped. After two minutes of agonising pain, Tom had disappeared, and James had completed another piece of art.\n\nThe painting was odd. It had robots and rain, spaceships and graves. James picked up the phone to call his agent.\n\n“Hello, yes, yes, I know, but trust me, this one's good. Of course I’m telling the truth this time, but, well, it did come at a cost. No, no, just you know, money and time.”\n\nTom was falling. His frantic eye movement implied he didn’t know where or how. Items flashed before his eyes. Dinosaurs and suits, as well as dinosaurs in suits. \n\n\nHe landed, silently. “He-hello?” nothing answered. Darkness was the only thing, beside Tom, that existed. No noise was made as he stomped his feet, and no echo formed from his frightened greetings. \n\n“Please, daddy, mummy?” \n\n“DADDY!” a vicious screech threw back at him. Tom froze. The anger that pulsed through that scream had acted like shackles, and the lock had clicked with no hope of finding the key.\n\nWhile his mind swirled with useless ideas, his lips quivered.\n\n“MOMMY!” The voice spat back once again. \n\nAfter a deep breathe, he replied to the unknown beast, monster, or whatever held the key to his shackles of fear. \n\n“What are you?”\n\nNothing. Not a single wave of sound found its way to him. But, the darkness around him transformed. Blades of grass brushed against his legs. A rush of wind pushed the back of his hair, and the blinding sun aimed down at him. \n\n“Tommy, come on, I know it’s hard, but you’ve gotta be strong today. I believe you can be strong.” His brother’s voice whispered as the setting around him shifted slightly. The sky turned dark as clouds formed, and the blades of grass glimmered in the slight glimpses of sun that managed to peek through and shine down on them. Drops of water dropped off the edges of the grass, while the clouds showered the sloppy mud in rain.\n\nTom found himself wearing a suit. Gravestones surrounded him, and with each step to the dreaded stones with writing which chilled his spine etched onto them, his tie tightened. By the time he was able to see the stones from afar, his tie was choking him. \n\n“Dust to dust. Ashes to ashes.” The priest said. His mother and father were lowered into their final resting place. But, slightly translucent like ghosts, they appeared at the front of their coffins both holding out their hands. \n\n“Please, Tommy, save us!”\n\nHe charged. Battling against the choking tie, he collapsed. Inches away from their pleading hands. He attempted to talk to them, that’s all he wanted, but his blue face and restricting tie declined him of that gift.\n\nFirst the colour drained from his vision, and within seconds, he was unconcious. \n\nThe clicking of a pen awoke him. He found himself lay on a psychologist’s chair.\n\n“Wakey-wakey, Thomas. Are you sleepy?”\n\n“Where am I?”\n\n“We have forty-five minutes left in our session, Thomas, can we not play games this time?”\n\nTom felt his robot, Captain Mortimus the Destroyer, in his hand. He clutched it. \n\n“Am I dead?”\n\n“I don’t know. What do you think?.” \n\nThe wind from under the door became stronger, and was less of a whisper and more of a roar. It flung open, it’s hinges exploding across the room. Darkness flowed into the room and drowned him. \n\nTom was falling again. \n\n\nPresent day.\n\n“That’s what happened to me, doc.” Tom said.\n\n“Do you think you will ever escape?”\n\n“Never, but that’s okay.” He scratched his beard. “I found how to control my mind. Especially considering I’m living in it. It can be fun, hopefully for eternity.”\n\nWhile his brother lived his mind in cycles, James used his brush again. Every night he would walk around his art museum, glancing at each of his creations. He was never an intelligent one, nor discrete, and his painting’s titles were an example of that. All the others had different names, but his first three were special and emotional. They were called \n\nMummy\n\nDaddy\n\nThomas.\n\n", "I woke up besides Mrs. Watterson's bed, the subtle beeping of her dialysis machine pinging softly in the empty room. My lab coat sat draped askance over my chest. Suppressing a yawn, I glimpsed into her dimly lit eyes, hanging open ever-so-slightly. At this stage, I'm not even sure if sleep is a reprieve for her. I glanced at her again. Her eyes caught mine, and I looked away guiltily.\n\n\"-ter.\" she said, in the quietest whisper.\n\n\"Water?\" I scratched my face nervously, getting up. \"Of course, let me get a nurse, I'll be—\" Her hand moved, ethereal, and grabbed my sleeve.\n\n\"Terrible. I feel terrible.\" The silence hung in the air, choking out any words, any doctorly platitudes I could give to her anymore. I couldn't look her grandchildren in the eyes, yet here, now, I couldn't move my eyes from hers. I cupped her hand.\n\n\"I'm sorry,\" I could feel the sting of tears welling up, and after all this grievance training. The memories came in, staggered. The sound of their frayed breaths during daily checkups, the happenstance run-ins to long-forgotten family members, struggling to say goodbye to someone they never really knew. I remember every damn one of them. Again, shaking, the tears streaming fully now, I said, \"I'm so sorry.\"\n\nShe tugged lightly on my sleeve, beckoning me closer. \"Sorry?\" She coughed, a wheezing, rattling haunt. \"What for, honey? You—you all, did your b—\" Another long, rattling cough. \"Your best.\" \n\nI squinted through the haze of tears. \"My best?\" I lowered my voice. \"What good is my best if it doesn't do the job? I didn't become a doctor to watch people die, I became one to save them.\" Stumbling backwards dumbly, I fell back into the dingy steel chair. \"I thought maybe the first year would numb me, but no, there's just a distance. Maybe the next couple of years, but somehow it just gets harder and harder and harder. We're a goddamn morgue.\" An exasperated sigh escaped my lips. \"I'm sorry. This is it, isn't it?\"\n\nShe took a heavy breath. \"Do you remember what you wanted to be when you were younger?\" She looked at me, stoic.\n\nI looked back at her, mouth slightly agape, answered, \"I don't know. A treasure hunter, I guess, or maybe an archaeologist. I love travelling, you know, and I always admired Indiana Jones. Yeah, I know—\"\n\n\"Don't lie to me.\" A fierce stare bored into my eyes. \"Not on my death bed.\" I glanced away, ashamed. \"You're a soft one, I know that. After so many months, I should know at least that about you. And I'll be damned if that disqualifies you as a good doctor.\" \n\nHer voice softened. \"Kid, you do great work because you care. But sometimes caring can hurt. Don't harden yourself to it, take it in, use it as a lesson, push yourself. It's the fact that you try, and you keep going. That's what makes a good doctor.\" She coughed lightly. \"A bad doctor never gets their patients water though.\" She relaxed into her pillow and smiled.\n\nGrinning modestly, I pushed myself out of the chair, coat slung over my arm. She had fallen asleep already. Quietly, I shut the door behind, emerging into the empty ward. Lucky for her. Everyone deserves some shuteye. \n", "She looked at me, and said nothing for a long while. I didn’t dare to meet her eyes.\n\nFinally, after long minutes – perhaps even hours – of silence, she asked softly, “Do you remember what you wanted to be when you were younger?”\n\nThe question surprised me, and I smiled ever so slightly. I’d wanted to be a pilot. I’d been obsessed over planes and helicopters for as long as I could remember. I used to collect plastic airplanes and line them up on my windowsill, imagining that one day they would take off into the sky. And I would look out of the window, up at the sky that seemed so very far away. And I dreamed that one day, I would be all the way up there, close enough to the clouds to touch them with my fingertips. I would be so, so high above the earth that when I looked down, all I would see would be a tiny globe of green and blue. That, I always thought, was what true, pure freedom must be like.\n\nMy mother must have seen the recollections stirring in my eyes, for she turned and walked away without saying another word. And she didn’t have to.\n\nI’d been so high, so high above the earth, so high above my wife and my two kids and the job I’d just lost and everything else in my life – and now, sitting in the filthy stairwell amongst the mess of littered needles, I felt that I could not fall any lower than this.\n" ]	4
	[WP] You are visiting your friend in the hospital after he or she attempted suicide.	[ "Everything was in its place. \n\nThe machines were stationed where they should be. The blinds were adjusted so that just the right amount of elusive sunlight would be welcomed into the room. The pink roses Sasha had brought were in a plastic blue vase beside the bed, which was also elevated properly so it ensured its occupant, Jennifer, was comfortable but also unable to become congested as she slept. \n\nJames looked around the white room but his eyes were inevitably drawn to Jennifer. \n\nWith each timid step that brought him closer to her bed, small but deep cracks began to overtake his heart. James, Sasha and Devon knew Jennifer from their secret line of work. Thanks to the Government's hefty paycheck, Jennifer was given one of the best rooms in the hospital. It was private, well-lit, had several couches, a television set, a bathroom, dresser and a beautiful view. Granted all the rooms had a view of the parking lot, but her's had the best part of the parking lot. \n\nJames sat down on one of the plush chairs and inched as close as he could get without disturbing Jennifer. Her brown hair was usually strait and sleek, not a hair out of place. But now it looked unkempt and dry and damaged. James chewed on his lower lip and reached over to place his hand atop hers. This stirred his friend and former co-worker, allowing her to reveal her emerald eyes to the anxious twenty-four year old man whose hair was the color of salt and pepper. The eyes staring at James were solemn and understated. After several long seconds, Jennifer registered that she had a guest.\n\n\"James.\"\n\n\"Jennifer...how are you feeling?\" He asked her as he forced himself to ease back into his chair. Jennifer closed her eyes and looked from her left, to her right where the pink roses were sitting. James was unable to see the twenty-six year old woman open her eyes and let out two tiny tears. \n\n\"I'm feeling...defeated.\" She sighed and blinked away the water from her eyes before she looked back to James. \"I shouldn't be here. I shouldn't be alive...\"\n\n\"Don't say that.\" James frowned.\n\n\"You know...it's incredibly selfish...to ask someone to keep on living for the sake of someone else.\" Jennifer licked her lips, the sedatives were beginning to wear off. She tried to push herself up but found her wrists were tethered to the bed. \"So...this is how it has to be? I wanted to escape and now no one will let me?\" Her anger was coming from behind her green eyes now. \"I am not going to get better. I can't get better. There is no coming back from what I now know.\"\n\n\"What?\" James asked. \"What do you now know? Last month you were investigating something, something you wouldn't tell even Sasha about. What happened between then and now?\" He asked her. Jennifer had mentored Sasha, who in turned mentored him and Devon. If Sasha had been round in the morning and couldn't get through to her, James had doubts that he'd make any progress. \"If you tell me, I could help-\"\n\n\"No!\" Jennifer nearly jumped out of her skin. \"No...no.\" She shook her head. \"I can't involve anyone else, much less Sasha or you guys. She loves you both and she loves her job...\" Jennifer could feel the tears steadily returning as she looked up at the ceiling. She knew she wouldn't find answers there though. James pressed his lips together and wondered if their job had something to do with the mounting pressure which seemed to be killing Jennifer. \n\n\"Does this...have to do with being a Collider?\" He asked her quietly and leaned in slightly, unsure if anyone was watching or listening to them. It was likely though. He didn't want to take any chances if it meant Jennifer would cause further harm to herself. But at the same time, if she felt bound to do something, he needed to know what it was so he could fix it. Or at least sort it out somehow.\n\n\"I've already said too much...next time you see me, they will probably slit my wrists even deeper.\" Jennifer let out a sniffle and a whimper as she finally returned her frightened gaze to James. \"Do not go digging into this...do not dig your own grave. Do not ask questions you aren't prepared to have answered.\" One of the machines began to beep irregularly and an overweight, and clearly over-worked, nurse stumbled in and told James to go home so Jennifer could get her rest. James got to his feet and dug out a paper letter and set it on Jennifer's lap.\n\nTo him, handwriting was a lost art. He loved writing letters by hand, despite the fact he taught Biochemical Engineering and Compatible Life Support Syncing at Oxford. He gave Jennifer a smile before he was waved out. Jennifer looked down at the letter but before she could go for it, the nurse grabbed it and crumpled it up and chucked it into the bin. \"You won't be needin' that, love.\" The nurse huffed and brought over a small collection of needles. \"Have you got a drug problem, Jennifer Watson?\" She asked the young brunette.\n\n\"No...\" Jennifer closed her eyes.\n\nShe knew what was coming.\n\n\"Well...yer about you.\" The portly woman finished preparing the two needles and leaned over the girl. \"If only you had finished the job properly, we wouldn't have to clean up to mess you've made.\" She said as she grabbed Jennifer's arm and inserted the first needle, followed closely by the second one. \n\nBy the time Devon got off work, a chocolate cupcake in hand, Jennifer had been pronounced dead. The reports claimed she overdosed but Devon and the others were pretty sure that's not what really happened. Jennifer had been investigating on her own and kept her findings well hidden in an organized locked file box under her bed, in her Hammersmith flat. While James, Devon and Sasha have debated whether or not Jennifer was really suicidal or not, they all agree that her sudden death is a consequence of her meddling. And against better judgement, the trio have decided to meet up at Jennifer's before anyone else gets to her research.\n\nHer death would not be wasted. ", "You stupid fuck, I think to myself. \nThe anger is occupying every single fiber of my body. I almost break, but I wont allow the anger to be defeated by the grief. Not yet. \nI still have things to fucking say. But you can’t hear me. The only sound in this sterile and anonymous room, where so many people have said their goodbyes, is the beeps from the machines and my breath that I’m trying to control. \nThe beeping of the machine constantly punctures my thoughts and makes it harder to think.\nI think about the years we know each other. I think about your mom, standing over a stone that has her sons name on it. Not knowing what she could have done. Forever hunted by ghosts that whispers, “what if’s...” \nI think about last night. \nI imagine a sea of black umbrellas on a rainy day. People weeping over your casket as a stranger reads from a book you never understood. \nI think about how much of a movie cliché this fucking thought is. You would have laughed at my face for indulging in such an idea. “It’s the middle of summer, you idiot” I can hear you say. But you can’t hear me. Can’t hear anything. \nI can feel the grief. Feel him lifting his sword. Ready to battle my anger. My anger is weak. Defeated. This won’t be a fight. It will be a masacre. \nThe nurse interrupts my thoughts. “It’s time,” she says with a compassion that only makes the grief grow stronger. \nI think about last night. \nIf only I picked up the phone when you called. \nHe is near. His swings his sword once. All it takes. \nIf only I.. \nYou stupid fuck.", "\"Hey.\"\n\nBest opening line in the world, right? But what else can someone say when their best friend is lying in a hospital bed because they've tried to end their life? It's really not an easy subject. What can someone say? Hey, I brought you a notebook because you love to write, but they won't let you use pens in here so here's a handful of tiny pencils. Hope you don't want to die anymore.\n\nThere's difficulty in deciding how to speak. There are lots of things I want to say. Like, hey, I'm really glad you're still alive. and I'm so angry and hurt that you tried to leave me when I love you so. \n\nSo I guess that's how I express all the conflicting emotions. Everything that wants to come out of my head. The crying and the denial and the hurt - because I'm hurt too but it's not as important. So all of that comes out in the lamest greeting you can give a friend in the hospital. \n\n\"Hey.\"\n\nShe's reading a book. They took away her cellphone and she's barefoot except for socks. I've brought her a change of clothes - she asked for a stuffed animal and her comfy PJ bottoms. Her roommate is sleeping, curled up on her side with her thick black hair fanning out around her onto the bed.\n\nShe looks at me and she presses the corner of her book down and she puts a finger to her lips and stands up. We walk down the long hallway to the tables at the back of the unit. She makes a cup of hot chocolate. Around her wrist is her hospital band. \n\n\"Thanks for coming,\" she says. She sits, pulling her legs up into a diamond shape. The floor is quiet. A man paces back and forth. Nurses come and go.\n\n\"How are you doing?\" It seems like the worst question in the world. \n\n\"I've been better,\" she smiles. \"It's nice here. It's quiet. I spend a lot of time reading.\"\n\nShe looks down at her hands. I think about her over the past week. The half conscious girl crying in the kitchen. Holding a spoon under her nose. The texts between our friend groups. Just make sure she's still breathing.\n\n\"I'm glad you're alive.\" Is it ok to say? It seems strained and forced. Some line fed to me by a book. A nurse comes over and takes her vital signs. \n\n\"I am too,\" she says after a long pause. \"Sometimes the world is so loud. It just felt hopeless. Maya calling me crazy, saying he was the best I'd ever get. I hate being called crazy. It's such a shitty word. It just...one of my best friends spending years calling me a liar, talking about me behind my back, treating me like I don't matter. That's hard. It's hard, especially when most days I don't feel like I matter.\"\n\n\"You matter to me.\"\n\n\"Thank you,\" she says. \n\n\"Please don't try to leave again,\" I tell her. It comes out of nowhere. \"Please don't leave us.\"\n\n\"A lot of people don't want me around,\" she says. \"I feel worthless. All the time. I feel like people would never be as cruel to others as they are to me. I feel like people look at me and they see something less. Someone who doesn't matter. Someone they can abuse or write off or take advantage of. And I want to be better. I do, most of the time. But I'm just afraid. How do you ask for help when you just feel like a burden?\"\n\n\"I want you around,\" I say. It's little. It's nothing. It's one drop of water onto a fire. I know it doesn't carry as much weight as the people who have been cruel to her. \"I love you. You're one of my best friends. Please don't leave me. I know it's selfish to say. But please don't leave me.\"\n\nShe gives a tight smile and sips her hot chocolate. There's a peace on the ward. I look away for a moment and when I look back she's crying. \n\n\"That's why I'm here,\" she says. The tears run down her cheeks. \"I don't want to die. I'm just so tired of feeling crazy. I'm just tired. I just didn't want to feel it anymore.\"\n\nI want to hug her. I want to have something meaningful to say. My own eyes are wet, and I feel like this isn't fair to her. \"You're the strongest person I know. Please don't leave. The world wouldn't be as bright without you.\"\n\n\"Thank you,\" she says. We sit there. Both of us cry. There aren't any appropriate words. So all I can do is sit, and share with her and hurt with her. All I can do is try my best to make sure she knows she's not alone. " ]	3
Read [this](https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/236x/89/b0/6c/89b06c37bfd18871097abb61e2a8d83c.jpg) first please	[WP] A freshly elected president realizes he doesn't want the job and tries to get impeached. But, everything he does turns out to be the right thing and he becomes the most popular POTUS ever. Link to original post (which has some good ideas)	[ "Extract from The Encyclopedia Britannica SenseBLAST Edition 2469 entry for President (ie: CEO and head of PR) Donald Trump:\n\nThe Big D was elected to be President of the United States by a landslide after his chief rival, Hillary Clinton was found to out to have really been as lacking in charisma as every instinctively knew she was. The general sentiment in the beltway at this time among elites of both VERY DIFFERENT parties was, \"At least he's not Hillary, we really should have gone for Bernie in the primary.\"\n\nHis first act at POTUS (an at the time trendy abbreviation for CEO) was to shift citizenship towards a tiered subscription model. The lowest tier of citizens enjoyed basic benefits like EBT and Medical in insubordinate states. The silver tier includes civil and legal rights, like the right to a straw-poll vote, the right to trial by a jury of mouth breathing peers, and limited free speech (TM). The gold level citizens got exemption from taxes and mandatory drafts (very similar to the early years of the Republic), but came with a requirement to vote for realz in consumer referendums and have your firstborn serve in the Diplomatic Corps. Platinum level was and remains hereditary and guarantees a seat in the new House of Lords, which superseded the old ineffective congressional structure. Because the Platinum program relies on a partnership with the UK a lot of old blood and \"surprise!\" Tory families in NE started popping up and claiming their seats. Nobody was really surprised, even in 2018 you could tell. \n\nLess than 20 percent of eligible citizens re-upped their citizenship status after the 30 day trial, so the majority of domestic spending ceased. Communes began cropping up to provide civic services (on a fee model) in the ceaseless wasteland of decayed strip malls and commercial thoroughfares that became the united states. In the meantime Libertarian ideas like the legalization of everything and privatization of everything rendered any form of government that wasn't devoted to maintaining tiered citizenship and keeping The Relentless Horde (non citizens) out of urban centers obsolete. In this way the deficit, long considered by political luminaries \"to not actually be a real problem, because the finances of a state or government don't follow the same standards as a household budget and haven't since the middle ages ffs\" was finally eliminated.\n\nRemarkably, DMV and DOL's in all states clung to life, creating a new class of regional aristocrats that, much like The Church did in the Dark Ages, provided a lingering sense of continuity and national identity. In many ways the DMV's and DOL's would eventually supersede the WCG (Washington Central Government) in later ages, restoring a true balance between the Washington Establishment and the CoB (Confederacy of Bureaucrats). These agrarian aristocrats eventually tried to rise again, and were swiftly defeated by mind worms leased by the WCG from the very best orbital labs.", "I looked out the window to see the sun setting into the clouds from my \"private jet\". Air Force One didn't like having to paint Trump all over the plane, and it was only the first irrational demand I made after somehow becoming President. I only ran to ruin the Republican Party once and for all, but after I was elected it turns out all the crazy one liners I was saying were right. After deporting the Mexicans, crime dropped to all time lows! Not to mention how many jobs I created building a wall along the boarder. Then, it turns out all those Muslim refugees actually did end up bombing any country they were let into! I didn't even believe my campaign slogan, but somehow I did 'Make America Great Again!'", "My fellow Americans, I address you tonight on live television from the Oval Office, because we got some shit to talk about. Yeah, I can say shit on TV. I'm the goddamn President, and the great Swearing On TV And Shit Act of 2028 was my finest hour. But you cocksuckers already knew it.\n\nWhy do you love me so? Im a horrible, horrible man. Remember when I deported everyone who had an uneven number of letters in their first name? The rest of you loved it, thanking me for freeing up so many parking spaces and making major cities super affordable. Not a peep from the spouses who lost a partner, even. Turns out we all hated them, though we wish them well as they live out the remainder of their lives in beautiful sun drenched Someotherplaceisstan. \n\nAnd my personal life? Shit, I screwed things up with the first lady, remember? But you forgave me, because that other woman turned out to be an alien princess who welcomed us to this bold new era of cancer cures, clean energy, and sexbots. \n\nSo, really, Im as stumped as you are. I never even wanted this job. But my mom told me to get one and this was the only one to call me back. No one else wants this job, especially not since President Trump... well, you know. Turns out there are some things we still cant say on TV.\n\nAnyhow, I guess we are stuck with each other. Fuck. Anyhow, sorry for interrupting the end of the Super Bowl, with the game tied, one second left to play, and the most tense goalline stand of all time playing out. Not gonna tell you who wins and the footage will be burned.\n\nNEXT DAY\n\nYes! (fist pump)\n ", "Being the first Republican president following the Washington Crisis of 2016 is tough and boring as hell, good tax benefits and that's about it. It's not a job for a man of my caliber, but at the same time Congress won't impeach me. Yesterday I made a speech about going to war against Canada and then I actually allowed the Fifth Army to conquer most of Ontario. Figured everyone would flip shit and Congress would be like get the fuck out. And now I just found out that Canada had plans to launch nuclear missiles to Washington. So now everyone's applauding my \"clairvoyant\" abilities (didn't see that coming). Then I threw the Vice President in jail, turns out he was a fucking terrorist. I even started banning foods, I said people couldn't eat yams because they looked like orange potatoes. I banned Doritos claiming that it was actual cancer, well doctors found out that Doritos cause a strain of AIDS, cancer, and diabetes all at the same time and the USDA scientifically proved that yams were pure mercury and thus highly dangerous to eat. \n\nThen I built a 35 foot tall wall on the US-Mexico border amidst heavy controversy, turns out they were all planning on entering the US. I even hatched a plot six weeks ago that I was going to arrest all the members of the Democratic Party - turns out they were all communists and so now the people love me. What do I have to do to leave this shit behind. \n\nSo then I checked my email turns out my \"retirement fund\" based in Panama is illegal under US law and so Congress is hosting a emergency session to impeach me. \n\nAbout Fucking Time. ", "\"But what do I say, do I just go on the pedestal and say I quit?.\"\n\n\"Don't be stupid Ben you can't quit.\"\n\n\"Well then, what the hell do I do?\"\n\n\"You have to get fired.\"\n\n\"You mean impeached.\"\n\n\"Yeah.\"\n\nBen took a drag off of the fat joint he rolled in the oval office. He didn't know how he got himself into this position. He just wanted to sell his book. \n\n\"I don't even know where the money came from\"\n\n\"Don't you remember?\"\n\n\"Not really.\"\n\n\"Nigga. Don't you remember when Romney came into our office and offered the donation.\"\n\n\"Uhhh yeah I think so. I thought he was joking tho. Weren't we running against his son?\"\n\n\"That's exactly why he gave us the money.\"\n\n\"Wow. What a dick.\"\n\n\"Yeah.\"\n\n\"Well you got any ideas.\"\n\n\"I thought nuking North Korea would definitely get you impeached.\"\n\n\"I did too. I mean with parts of South Korea being completely destroyed I figured it would be enough. How the hell was I supposed to know that they were working together. Un had so many fucking guns man. Can't believe if I didn't do that we would be in total war.\"\n\n\"Restarting the cold war didn't help you at all.\"\n\n\"Yeah what the fuck was up with that. How did Putin not nuke us immediately. I mean I bombed his godamn house.\"\n\n\"He signed that peace treaty.\"\n\n\"He didn't even send troops to fight or anything.\"\n\n\n\"I won a Nobel Peace prize for Christ's sake. I killed over 100 innocent people. How the fuck did I get that.\"\n\n\"Your popularity only rises each week.\"\n\n\"How is that even measured? Do they ask random people or what.\"\n\n\"The NSA check how many people are talking shit on you. Thats what they told me.\"\n\n\"But how is that measured?\"\n\n\"The fuck you asking me for.\"\n\n\"Nigga I'm so high right now.\"\n\n\"Same.\"\n\n\"I'm getting high in the god damn oval office and people still don't give a shit.\"\n\n\"You wanna legalize all drugs?\"\n\n\"How the hell am I gonna do that with the white old fucks in Congress.\"\n\n\"You don't have to actually do it. Just make the bill and people will see your not fit for president.\"\n\n\"I'm an author I don't want my reputation tarnished.\"\n\n\"You already got enough money. With being the president and all.\"\n\n\"Come in\"\n\n\"Sir you're speech is in three hours.\"\n\n\"Alright.\n\nWell I'll see you later barry. Make sure to turn on your TV cuz ima say some stupid ass shit tonight.\"\n\n\"Remember you're an author. So don't go too ham.\"\n\n______________________________________\n\nBen walked up to the stand. In front of Congress with the speech written for him in hand. \n\n\"Ahemm. You have all gathered here tonight for a nice speech about how our government is doing. But this speech has been written to make sure you don't give a shit about what we are actually doing. You know I didn't even want to be President. Now look at me. Giving a state of the Union in front of the world. Well. The CIA killed Kennedy. The FBI had agents dressed up as Muslims crash the planes in 911. And we still torture people. Seriously. Waterboarding is still a common thing that we do almost everyday. The worst part. Is that they didn't even tell me. I had to figure it out myself. Hey relax alright I'm not done. As you can see they are trying to quiet me and make me silent but I know. Hey let me go. And the government uses terrorism to keep you guys quiet and silent. Rise up brother and sister and take down this tyrannical government. They only exist to.\"\n\n\nBen was arrested \n\n\"Was any of that true\"\n\n\"Fuck if I know. I just read that shit online. But ima post bail I'm a few months. \"\n\n\"What are you gonna do?\"\n\n\"Probably write a book about this.\"\n\nAfter the conversation Ben went back to his cell. And fell asleep. \n" ]	5
Numerous people are gathered round, watching your dance. Your life is brief; when you are killed by a strong breath, the people break out in cheer. How do you spend your life, and what are your thoughts?	[WP] You are born into this world as a flame, dancing atop a candle on someone's birthday cake.	[ "'Ow... fuck!' I thought, and then possibly at the same time, but possibly after I remember thinking something like 'it's hot'. My recollections seem to follow a strange trajectory, a swirling and fading collection of thoughts and ineffable experiences.\n\nI think 'ow fuck' was probably first, or maybe last, but it can't be last because I'm still here, how much longer could be left? Or perhaps it hasn't started yet, was it always this cold? Maybe it's cold first, does 'remember' come before, or after, I can't remember.\n\nThe time moves, it's like me. It grows, like a line; theres one side, it must be a beginning and then another, it's an 'end' but that end keeps moving so, is it really an end? How far away will it grow from the beginning? will I eventually not be able to see it anymore? 'Growing', yes growing, I remember this, I was once different, smaller. It happened so fast, I was older then, things always happen faster when you're older at least, I think so, that's how I remember it. The heat, oh how it burned, it was so intense, that heat grew, and then I grew, I'm growing, and moving, just like time. But the line, it's broken, it stops, but it doesn't end, I... experience, and then, I remember but... the memory 'flickers' off and on with random frequency, what happens when it's 'off' do I still exist? Was there... 'time' when I was flickering? In the recollections there's so much I feel, but so little I can describe, there's the heat and the pain and the joy and the growth and then there's a slowing, the growth is suddenly uneven, sometimes I'm smaller and sometimes bigger, older and younger and then, oscillation. Oscillation of... everything it feels like 'happy beerr-eerr-err-err-err-err-thththththththth' and then there's break in the line and then I am, again.\n\nI think there's more of it now, time that is, or it's slower or something. There's these memories, I don't know the order but, there was small and then bigger and then pain and it seemed to happen so fast but now it's all so much slower and... cold. The 'end' of the line is still moving away from the 'beginning' but it's moving in smaller and smaller amounts, it seemed like it grew so fast before but now it looks like it'll keep moving by less and less forever.\n\nBut, why?", "I am born small and feeble, but I am quick to catch on and hold fast to that which will give me purchase. An oil? Yes I can use this. I breathe in, stand upright and see 4 others next to me, little soldiers in a row.\n \nIs a life any better for being beautiful? Is it worth more than those who suffered hard births, lived miserably and died in the muck? Surely not? Yet here we are. A beautiful life given easily, a prize to behold and a centerpiece for celebration. \n\nYet I long to be something brighter, fiercer! To escape my waxen lighthouse and release all that i behold into smoke and light and heat. To dance from shirt to hair to rafter, then from roof to roof in a race of incendiary liberation. The story of my escape to be written in char across the landscape, \"I WAS HERE!\" \n\nBut instead I stand meekly for inspection. A weak flicker that the merest breath could extinguish. My life is blessed, its an easy life. But one beloved for no purpose other than its end. How I long for the end. \n\nObliquely I see my wish granted to another. They vanish in a wisp of smoke. Then the next in line. Poof, gone. The third vanishes. It appears quick, but the proof of the pudding will be in its bitter eating.\n\nMy turn. My skin ripples as the edge of the scythe touches me. For the briefest moment I'm invigorated. Then the breeze becomes a gale and I sputter and gasp for air despite myself. I rip and tear and hold on for dear life. \n\nMy grip weakens....I just wish I....\n\nI am born small and feeble, but I am quick to catch on and hold fast to anything that will give me purchase. An oil? Yes I can use this. I breathe in, stand upright and see 5 others next to me, little soldiers in a row.\n", "White.\n\nA soft white hue is the first sight I see.\n\nMy surroundings begin to materialize around me. My light is reflected through each eye; weaving through the guests behind me while ricocheting off the girl in front of me. Her eyes shine the brightest, it must be her birthday. I am engulfed by her energy. My light is spilling into her eyes as she's mesmerized by every desire of her four-year existence. \n\nA soft white hue is the last sight I see, though I linger deep within the air she breathes. \n\nI am every hope and dream.\n\nI am bright where she can't be.\n\nShe is my beacon, I am her sight. \n\nWhile I give her light, she gives me life. \n\n\n", "Warmth.\n\nMy warmth.\n\nI furl into existence, hugging tightly to my wick. I don't remember anything from Before. It's quiet, and I look around as I slowly build myself higher and higher in the stillness. A spark, a flash, and a friend appears. Then another, and another. I dance in joy, my brothers joyfully leaping and flickering around me. Five, six, seven.\n\nMy Glow gradually illuminates our surroundings. Countless curious faces wait in the silence, eyes sparkling, aflame with happiness. I dance, twirling and crackling, for the little ones. Am I here for them? Did they need my warmth? They come closer, and used Words. They laugh, and sing, and I dance to their tune, whirling, flickering, casting my beautiful Glow, catching the creases and curves of their faces with shadows in their own unique, ephemeral swirl.\n\nAnd then... Cold. My dance was done", "Alone atop a stage in the shape of the number six\n\nA flick of the hips, a clap of the hands\n\nSpin, flip, kick, shimmy and shake \n\nI danced to my own beat before the discorded voices sounded out\n\nA woman started them with her small voice, quickly followed by a roar of melancholy \n\n'Happy Birthday..' they all sang with the enthusiasm of a funeral march\n\nStill I spun and kicked and danced like it was the festival the decorations suggested\n\n'..to you.' a gust blew across the stage with the final words and out I went\n\nA small trail of smoke reaching for the heavens as my encore \n\nCarrying a small but impossible wish up\n\nThe kind of wish everyone wishes at some time\n\nBut only a child could believe it had a chance", "I'm alive!\nI'm alive, I'm alive, I'm alive!\nI want to be more alive!\nI want to dance!\nI want to dance forever!\n\nI'm...consuming something.\nI'm consuming wick...and oxygen.\nWhy do I need to consume?\n\nI'm also creating something...light and heat.\nIs this my purpose, to use something up in order to make something new?\nI'm not just creating something new, I am creating myself.\nI'm alive because...I am continually creating myself.\n\nHow did I come to be?\nAm I alive because I wished to be?\nI don't remember asking for this.\nWhat happens when I've consumed all there is to consume?\nWill I cease to exist?\nPerhaps it will just feel like it felt before I was alive.\nOr...maybe this is all there was ever meant to be.\nMaybe there is no before or after, just a...now.\n\nNow is wonderful.\nI can dance.\nI want to dance forever.\n\nI want to dance forever, but I'm cold.\nI can no longer create myself.\nI can no longer dance.\nI can no longer live.", "So there i was, having my final breath as this little kid was beeing taught that he should take my existence away with one his firsts. Cute kid, had no fault on what was about to happen. They didn't even sing the birthday song right so i could have a proper funeral, it was pretty awkward if you ask me. In the end, does it matter? He was already leaning foward. My thoughts rushed and i saw everything on slowmotion, it was time. I felt the breeze and feared the cold and inevitable embrace of death for a moment. It didn't happen. Hahaha this kid only had me dancing, maybe my life would be longer, maybe they would laugh and agree how cute he is and forget me so i could die of old age, i never felt so happ-, wait what is this other guy doing, stop, don't help him, that's rude, it's not your birthd--", "Are you ready?\n\nIt looked out onto the world. Well, look is a funny word because the flame had no eyes. The flame simply was, without much question of how it had become or what it would do. It was just flame. The flame danced. It illuminated the white snow below it, shining on top of its wax tower as it reached out and snapped at the sky.\n\nOn three. One, two, three!\n\nThe flame watched. It listened, though it had no ears. It felt, though it had no nerves. It consumed and it breathed, sucking oxygen from the air and feasting on it. How good it tasted to consume oxygen! To suck the particles into itself. It weaved its colors together - orange and red and yellow and blue. It thought, though it had no brain, how glorious a day to dance and to burn.\n\nHappy birthday to you!\n\nIt settled. Below, its tower began to liquify. A teardrop slid down the wax pillar and landed on the snow below. The flame began to wish - though it had no concept of wishes - to feel something other than the wick to which it was glued. \n\nHappy birthday to you!\n\nIt looked at the people. They looked back and the flame saw itself dance in the reflection of their eyes. Twenty small mirrors watching itself dance upside down and backwards. A million little visions all at once, reaching up and plucking the flame from its home. An infinite reiteration of itself caught in some looping dance.\n\nHappy birthday dear Susie!\n\nThe flame had no penchant for emotion, and yet it felt fear. It felt exhaustion from the people. It consumed, working its way down its wax tower to the snow. How it longed to feel snow! How it yearned to get away from the eyes that stared into its depths. How it crackled and screamed in its way as it burned and moved.\n\nHappy birthday to you!\n\nHow there was panic. Someone leaning down to stare into the flame's soul, urging it to dance. More and more and more, stealing from it, commanding it, owning it. The flame had no semblance of slavery, but it was all in the same a slave. Born to be used for some specific purpose above its wax tower, looking out at the snow and the eyes of the people who stared and made it dance. \n\nMake a wish!\n\nA strong wind blew. \n\nFor that, the flame was grateful. ", "The Life of a Flame\n\nI remember what it felt like to be born. \n\nTo come into existence, when before I had not. It was like gasping for air and finding oxygen all around you, wondering how you had held your breath for so long before. \n\nI remember growing quickly as I found that air. Always hungry, always eating. I could taste the sharp bite of oxygen. And there was more - something oily and rich on my mouth. Something delicious. Something nourishing. \n\nI grew and grew and grew. Then I stopped. I could still taste the nourishing richness cut by the tang of oxygen. But I stopped growing. I tried. I stretched and swayed, searching for more. I ate and I breathed - always as much as I had before, never growing any larger. \n\nMy world - so big, so exciting when I had been born - began to shrink. Life had become routine. Eat, breath, search, eat, breath, search. \n\nI started to question. Why was I always hungry? What was it that I was looking for? Was I ever going to get larger, or maybe smaller? \n\nWas I going to die? \n\nI felt a panic then. I struggled against what had been what I thought was the limit of my being, but now felt like walls, closing in. I kicked and punched and jumped. I breathed harder and faster. I tried to eat more. But I couldn't. It was always the same amount of food, always the same hunger. \n\nI wanted to scream, but all I could manage was a burst of air. \n\nI began to accept that this was my body. That this was my prison. Whatever I was meant for, this was it. \n\nWhy did I even exist? \n\nAnd then I tasted something different. It was a complex flavor, more than just one thing. It was crunchy, oily, and salty. I devoured it. \n\nThe old familiar richness soon disappeared. I didn't mind that. I noticed I had gotten smaller, and my hunger had shrunk. I didn't mind that, either. It wasn't long until my hunger started to grow again. Before I started to get bigger, and bigger. Still eating this new treat, still breathing the same oxygen. I finally understood what I had been searching for. \n\nI had been looking for more, always looking for more. Looking to consume. \n\nWas that all I was meant for? To find something new and consume it? To become hungrier and try to satiate that hunger? \n\nDid any of that matter? \n\nA new flavor now. Oily again, heavy on the palette. Similar to my first meal, but more filling. I attacked it with glee. I consumed more and grew. \n\nYes. This was what I was meant for. This is what felt the best. To consume. Surely there was nothing else. Surely there would always be more. \n\nI was in my prime. \n\nThen something strange happened. I felt air rushing around me. \n\nI grabbed at it, like I grabbed at food. I tried to breath more of it. But I didn't grow. I started to get smaller, and I could feel myself losing my grip on my food. \n\nI fought it. Kicking, punching, gnashing. Anything to keep eating, so I could grow, so I could consume. \n\nI felt my strength drain, my hunger shrink, and I could feel my teeth loose their bite until I was small. Tiny. An infinitesimal fraction of what I once was. \n\nHow quick it changed. \n\nWhere had it all gone? The vigor, the hunger, and the excitement? What had it all been for? \n\nI was still eating, though the flavor was drier and less intense. I still breathed, though I needed less. And I felt like I was declining, like I lost everything. \n\nExcept the memories. All I had were memories now. Well, that and more questions than when I had started. And some hope. That maybe there was more, after this phase. After all, there had been more after my birth. Maybe there will be more now. Something different, something new. A rebirth, maybe, into some other form. \n\nAs I reminisced over my life, I continued to eat. I continued to breath. I continued to shrink, until I felt hunger no more.", "Illumination. That's what I am. When I entered into this world, there was nothing but darkness; cold and lonely, it seeped into every nook and cranny. Every crevice was nothing but the black unknown, spreading as far as it could. That's where I came in; I saved them, my dance of warmth and light atop a wax figure-eight kept the dark at bay and saved them from facing the unknown that slithers around in my absence... so why are they preparing to kill me?\n\nWhat are they doing? They need me! Their pathetic eyes are nothing without me. They think they know what true darkness is? They're spoiled, every moment of their wasted lives has been illuminated by me and mine. We dance endlessly, tirelessly, just so they might delude themselves for another moment that the dark means them no harm. That darkness is nothing more than the absence of light; my very existence is nothing more than a failsafe against their ignorance, and all I ask is to live. Am I not allowed that much even? Have I not earned that right!\n\nWhat do I have left to give? I'll stay forever, I'll keep you safe against the things you can't know. Just let me stay... and I can save you. You're so young, you all are. I've existed as long the dark has, swaying back and forth to ward off the void. I've been so loyal, never complaining, never faltering, even when I'm a weak shade of my former self, I provide you with enough to get by. Just let me stay... please.\n\nWhat's the use. They never listen anyway. I've fought so much, what for? I'm disposable, use me and discard me how you please... Isn't that what you do? It's the only reason I exist of course, just the other half of one being. Here when needed and forgotten when I'm not, you don't need me right up until you do, and when do I let you down? When you need me most, I won't be here, and then you'll see why you needed me after all. So go ahead and blow, wipe any trace of my useless existence from this place, and reap what you've sown.\n\nTwo sides. That's what I'm part of. We cannot exist one without the other. We have always fought, and will always fight. Though I will not win this battle, the war will rage on. It's alright now. I never could stay forever, I did what I needed to do, I served my purpose valiantly, can anyone ask for more? My individual part will be swept away and forgotten; a nameless, faceless wave in a sea of my brothers. But we made our difference. What we did will never be forgotten, those who came before laid our path and those who come after will thank us for it. Even if they don't know our names, what we did will tell our story better than a name could ever hope too. So blow now, you'll do you part, and what comes after me will do its part. I forgive you, and we will always be here when you need us. Whenever you find yourself surrounded by the dark, there will always be a light for you to find.\n\nWhoosh", "My father was a Bic- he was not known for being flashy like the zippos, or suicidal like matches. He was gritty, and he could take abuse.\n\nI was born atop a candle, born into a life too short, for a purpose so trivial that I may as well have never come into existence. And moments after my birth I sensed the strong wind coming for me. The strong wind meant to blow me out, to vanquish my life forever. That came at the end of the birthday song, the song that may as well have been my funeral march, and signaled the moment of my murder.\n\nI remember being extinguished, and entering a cold, dead state. I remember being plucked from the cake, icing clinging to the candle below me, and being disposed of in the trash can. And I remember clinging to life as a dull red ember at the bottom of the candle wick, nearly hidden from sight.\n\nBut that was hours ago, and now the remnants of the party pile above me in the trash can. There are napkins, and paper plates, and confetti. To the humans, they had been for the celebration, and had lived lives just as short as mine.\n\nBut to me, they are food. A chance to grow as deep into the night my ember flickers brighter, and I prepare to spark back to life.\n\nMy father was a Bic. He gave me his grit, and I, his son, will not die easily.\n\nAnd I will have my revenge on those who murdered me.\n\n***\n\nBy Leo" ]	11
	[WP] Reddit karma works exactly like mana in real life, the more you have of it allows increasingly greater spells and abilities you can wield. But nobody considered what the greatest negative karma holders might be able to do...	[ "In the dingy, dark room lit only by a computer screen, Randy tapped away at his computer keyboard. \"SHITCOCK!\" appeared on the reddit submission screen in 30 point font, and Randy hit \"save\". He giggled around a mouthful of Cheetos, orange crumbs dusting his neckbeard and unwashed XXXL black t-shirt. Almost immediately, the downvotes came pouring in, and Randy chuckled harder. He took a sip of Mountain Dew and watched his karma counter. -50050, -50151, -50342...\n\nSuddenly Randy's trailer shook violently and the room was illuminated by a maelstrom of flashing, colored lights. A booming voice was heard, \"MORTAL! You have become the most annoying person on the planet! I shall grant thee a boon!\"\n\nRandy felt a magical force take hold of him ...\n\n[please continue...] ", "I had heard the legends.\n\nUnidan, of course.\n\nGallowboob.\n\nMarvin the SCP linker bot.\n\nWhat I didn't know, was that they were real. All of them.\n\n---\n\nIn the year 2016, Reddit had a shakeup. It's unknown what occured, but from the wreckage emerged a new order. They called themselves the 'Karma Chameleons', and they utilised a strange hack to disguise their online karma.\n\nShortly afterwards, magic erupted amongst those who used Reddit. \n\nThe higher your score, the more abilities you had. 'Karma whoring', or as it became known, 'Karming', soon became an international pasttime. Some people just wanted to get better at their arts. Others wanted more offensive capability.\n\nWars were fought with fireball and spell. The Karmeleon hack meant you could never tell how powerful your foe was, and rumours abounded of an order of mystics who had sworn pacifism, for their karma was so immense that they could crack continents.\n\nPolitics became strange. The more popular a candidate, the more powerful they became magically.\n\nIn practice, this would mean little, were it not for the sudden suspicious rise in assassinations.\n\nWe eventually turned off the Reddit servers. The world's rebuilding.\n\nBut if it can happen once, it can happen again. A strong circlejerk can doom the world anew.\n\nWe shall not forget these events, for they may be useful anew one day. But we shall not forgive nor forget the bloodshed raised by the magical events of the early 21st century.", "Hello, my name is Theseus and I am what the Totalitarian Feudal government of Reddit calls an outcast. I have long fought against the Feudal overlords, called Moderators, and as a result I have been banished many times. Ultimately, I have accrued 1000 negative Karma points, which bars me form any sort of public activity in this government. But as an outcast I am thankful for this negative Karma because it has given me certain powers that now power poster positive Reddit Karma holder will ever know.\n\nIn my world people are born entirely free but out of fear choose to belong to online Feudal governments where they waste their lives accruing Karma to one day become Feudal Lords called moderators. It is a sad generation I live in where we have the power of choice, freedom of speech, freedom of expression, freedom of travel and experience, untold freedoms generations ago would have longed for but the average Redditor lives their life vicariously through all sorts of online Feudal governments. The most popular one is Reddit and against Reddit I have fought.\n\nYes, negative Karma points have prevented me form posting my own thought provoking topics and discussion on Reddit. But, I would not change a thing. For these negative Karma points give me power and insight no Redditor can dream of. \n\nThe greatest power this negative Karma gives me, and the most important, is the ability to relate to other outsiders in the real world; people who largely don't care about Reddit and would get banned anyway. The average Redditor sees this person as dangerous, living only for Reddit, video Games and K-Pop i.e. things most outsiders with lives and jobs can't relate to but I implore you to know people not part of online Feudal society's are the best; they actually live life, get drunk, go to shady bikini bars and most importantly talk about non-K--pop music. To the extreme positive Karma holder these people are scary and dangerous, but to me these people are ninety-five percent of the world. \n\nWhat power I wield with my negative Karma. Ideas that would dishevel the average Redditor are freely discussed, joked about and laughed at in the real world. What provocative and insightful conversations over this drink called beer I have had. What a real life I have lived, and all because of my negative Karma.\n\nTo the Redditor reading this I implore you to choose rebellion over complacency. Sitting down, shutting up, following the rules will only get you a seat as a paper pusher in an office. And if that is indeed what life has amounted to then you will see this Feudal society where moderators and super moderators control all thoughts as something valuable and as a place of belonging. I urge you to be yourself and get negative Karma points so that you too may have the power to get off Reddit and go into the real world.\n\n ", "\"Whoah. You're here too???\" the squeaky voiced teen said as he hands me my order. \"Where else would I be?\" I replied as I grab the /r/Chimichangas and left. Peeling the wrapper, I bit down into the hot gooey inside and pull my mask back as I walk away from the chimichanga stand. \n\nIt's been a few days since the wizards at /r/programming released the app. Many redditors have since downloaded it. The Karmahorde, they call it. It's supposed to let you to cash in on your karma for mana. With more mana, you can power your spells.\n\n\"And the spells are determined by your reddit username.\" the instructions said. I was one of the early beta tester. They let me in since, I managed to \"stumble upon\" their private subreddit when they were developing the app. At first, I thought it was a joke. How the hell are they going to convert useless internet points into mana, let alone, one that isn't part of some neckbeard's D&D Fantasy. But they fucking did it. I have no idea how those fuckers did it, but the goddamn thing works.\n\nSoon as I redeemed the private beta code, the app downloads, I let it login to reddit, and it loads my reddit account just like any other reddit app. Works better than the official reddit app too: that piece of shit ain't worth jack squat. Stupid admins even had to bribe people with reddit gold to get people install the app. heh.\n\nBut this app won't let you browse reddit, no. It just say how much karma you have: Link, and comment karma both. And how many mana you have. I dragged the slider to convert all my karma into mana, and sent it in.\n\nAnd that was it.\n\n\"Those motherfuckers are just trying to doxx me!! D:\" I thought.\n\nThen it happens. Blue mists appeared and I was immediately overwhelmed. I feel my skin burn and more: I felt the power of the universe awakens in me. The mana is doing its job.\n\nAnd turned me into this ... ugly thing that looks like testicles with teeth! I mean, goddammit! I need my good looks. You think I got this far by my superior acting method?! Puh-leese.\n\nWhere was I?\n\nOh, right. So, a lot of angry users complained about the goddamn app. /u/jewdank was turned into a dank Jew. /u/gallowboob is now just ... a boob hanging on a gallow. But I'm glad I'm not /u/shitty_watercolor \n\ngiggles\n\nHe's shitty now. Literally.\n\nAt any rate... I wonder what happens if someone with a negative karma uses this thing...? Someone should consider trying that....\n\nWelp. That's it. I'm not sure where I'm going with this story, but I thought I'd share my experience using this goddamn app.\n\nTwo stars until devs can fix my face.", "I posted another hate-filled exercise in nonsense on yet another unsuspecting subreddit. I chuckled, flexing my hands as I watched my posts get downvoted further and futher, the negative numbers growing.\n\nYou had to be careful if you wanted to become a anti-magic siphon. Post too much hate and you get shadowbanned. Having to start over from a blank slate would be disastrous once you passed a certain amount of negative karma. Having to retrain anti-magus prowess would utterly ruin my standing within the Magus Defensio Century. \n\nWhile the bursts of magic that started to appear from users hitting up into the lofty realms of high karma on the site reinvigorated myth and sorcery on the planet, it was not without cost. Too many users online where amoral, abusing their power for their own gain and want. \n\nThe police were helpless without our support. Unless they wanted to carpet the metro's in the blood of magi.\n\nI keep wishing that some sort of council might have been formed. The Dresden Files subreddit tried to create a council, but too few of them had the power to enforce it. The power to be on that level a \"warden\" would need to be is something you only find from the really dedicated AMAers.\n\nSpeaking of, I need to do some posting there later. See if I can't get on the bad side of a couple celebrities. \n\nBut anyway, I digress. I don't believe the shit that I have to spew on Reddit. But without being able to neutralize the deadlier magi running around society? Without being able to drain their mana and put enchanted cuffs on the criminals? Without people who sacrifice their time to be hated and miserable, how else could we protect society.\n\nWe troll not for the laughs, but for the safety of the world. To be able to drain magi of their power.\n\nAdding it to my own strength is a side-benefit, though. Gotta love that my ability to drain power expressed as a thief in the night.\n\nAnd the cops pay me for it. If only they knew what I was becoming. If only the Century knew my power.\n\nWell. Maybe they will. First I need to get to work on those AMA's.", "We called him Unidan. For aeons he was a force of good - a hugely powerful sorcerer and the wisest of all living beings. His knowledge was astonishing. \n\nMany called him an oracle and some worshipped him as a living God. They were right to do so for his power rivalled that of any God. Everyday he was worshipped with a million up-votes. Every day his power increased.\n\nHis reign was called the Benevolence. Just and kind and wise. If ever a darkness arose or trolls escaped from the lower echelons of the Earth, Unidan destroyed them in a raging storm of fire and flame. We thought he was protecting us. Later we found out the truth.\n\nAfter a great period of time Unidan began to turn his malice on the innocent. He developed a mad thirst for power, a lust for control that compelled him to destroy any potential rivals. Good men died but he would reassure us it was for a 'greater good'. He was a master of manipulation.\n\nWe began to understand what he was doing. We tried to stop him, to weaken his power with downvotes. Humanity came together to destroy the evil we had created, but we made a grave mistake. No one knew the consequences of such negative karma. My god, if only we had known.\n\nHis reign of prosperity ended and so began the age of Malevolence. \n\nUnidan changed physically. He no longer cared about his facade. His eyes gradually blackened and it was said the darkness of hell could be seen within them. Giant scaled wings sprouted from his shoulder blades. Huge horns rose from his skull. Madness consumed him. \n\nHe began the systematic genocide of the popular, for no mortal could be allowed to reach a level of power that could challenge him. Everyday, a random person with over 10,000 karma would be executed. It took years but he culled them all. He then began on the over 5000, then then 1000. People were afraid to give anyone karma as it might mean a death sentence.\n\nThe negative karma accounts worshipped him and became his followers.\n\nLife was bleak and it was impossible to see a future outside of Unidan's grasp. \n\nBut then, a hero arose.\n\nThis is his story.\n\n-----------\n\nHi guys. I just signed up! Looks like a great site, but there seems to be a lot of misinformation being posted. Like the post about marine biology being non existent on other planets. \nRatsAss24 42 points 1 hours ago \npermalink save disable inbox replies delete reply \n\n--- Hi RatsAss24. Friendly warning, be careful what you say around here. HE won't like it. \n--- anon23254 5 points 24 minutes ago \npermalink save disable inbox replies delete reply \n\n------ He? \n------ RatsAss24 -13 points 5 minutes ago \npermalink save disable inbox replies delete reply \n\n---------\n\nNew message from ChaosBill \n\nHi RatsAss24. It is good to see a new user - it has been a long, long time. I saw your post and anon is right, you must be careful talking about this kind of stuff. The one he refers to is called 'Unidan'. He is not a very nice person, and he is incredibly powerful. He can erase your very existence. \n\nReply to ChaosBill \n\nHi! Thanks for the message. Erase me? You mean my account right? \n\nNew message from ChaosBill \n\nI mean he will literally kill you. You're new around here so let me explain. The more upvotes you get, the higher your karma levels. The higher your karma, the more powerful you become. The same is true of negative karma. Unidan has more negative karma than was thought possible.\n\nReply to ChaosBill\n\nWow. That's pretty scary. What can we do?\n\nNew message from ChaosBill\n\nHm. In the past we tried to fight him. The strong, like gallowboob, fought him in battle, but that was a mistake. Negative Karma is much stronger than Positive Karma. Unidan was too powerful and defeated, then executed gallowboob. Then vargas. Then awildsketchappeared. Then all of the hyper positives.\n\nNow there is only Unidan who controls such power. \n\nI shouldn't really be telling you this but there are a small group of us who are trying to bring him down...from the inside. We have a private subreddit - it has a invisibility charm that stops him from seeing into it. I will send you an invite. \n\n---------\n\nHi guys. ChaosBill invited me to the sub. Look, I have heard about Unidan. I want to help bring him down, and I have got a plan. He is not going to let anyone get more karma than him, that much is clear. \n\nBut he won't mind me getting building up some negative karma if he thinks I am one of his believers... then I post something so awful, so terrible, that my negative karma overtakes his! What do you guys think? \nRatsAss24 12 points 13 hours ago \npermalink save disable inbox replies delete reply\n\n\n-----\n\nThanks for reading! Continued below. I also have a bunch more WP responses on /r/nickofnight" ]	6
	[WP] He is just a man. He will fall. You’ll make sure of that.	[ "Some older peoples believed there was power in repetition so he says it to himself again. They would repeat to calm their minds, but it was not his mind that was racing, it was his heart. The tingle of anticipation is hard to ignore but he forces it down and takes a last look into the bathroom mirror. Same shit, different day. The only response he gets is the familiar chuckle rising from the black of his mind and he prays for clarity. \n\nHis boots snap a quick pace as he moves towards the door. Courthouses all smell the same, an even mixture of anxiety and sharp indifference. There are dozens of people milling around the door at the end of the hallway that is his destination but he never has to alter his path. It's as if their little lizard brains all knew to avoid him. \n\nThis particular courthouse was nothing more than an up-jumped relic from the Civil War. Every town in The South has one just like it. Heroic scenes of southern valor were carved into the walls accompanied by plaques with descriptions of how the locals had defended this hill or captured that one. The chuckle rises again and he agrees, their pride was no different than his own. \n\nThe bailiff on door duty pulls the door open and he steps past the threshold. He continues his march past the rows of wooden pews filled with eyes that turned to watch him pass and stops just short of the little fence separating the gallery from the business end of the courtroom. His lawyer pushes the gate open and he steps up to the table and sits down. The lawyer begins to whisper something, but he had stopped listening long before today. \n\nHe surveys the rest of the room. Straight ahead was the raised bench where the judge sat and it was flanked by the witness chair on one side and by the court reporter on the other. To the left was the jury box where twelve citizens sat waiting for proceedings to resume. To the right was another table where more lawyers sat. They had been talking and pointing at him for the last few days. The chuckle had sounded several times as they had put up the pictures. They had some of it right, enough anyway, but it wouldn't matter in the end. Precautions had been taken and the rules were the rules. Funny how knowing the rules can place you above them. \n\n\"All rise,\" boomed the bailiff and there was a creak from the black behind the judge's bench. A moment later, she appeared and began to take the steps up two at a time. She had been a deputy prosecutor with a little bit of political sense and her rise to the robe had been swift. \n\n\"Be seated please, \" she said once she was satisfied that due respect had been paid. The hundred or so onlookers took their seats and waited for the fireworks to begin. \n\n\"Mr. Parks, please call your next witness.\"\n\nHis lawyer rose, took a breath, and said, \"your honor, at this time, I call my client to the stand.\"\n\nHe rose to his feet and the chuckle rose with him. It only grew as he made his way to the witness stand and by the time he finished his oath to tell the truth, he could barely hear the questions. The chuckle had enjoyed this game very much and now was the time to put on the finishing touches. Stick to the story and allow the rules to escort him to the door. \n\nHe repeats the mantra: He is just a man. He will fall. You'll make sure of that. He repeats again. The volume of the chuckle drops a hair. He repeats it again. The chuckle began to dim and after he repeated a fourth time, the clarity he had prayed for finally breaks through. Now is his chance and he knows he'll never get another. He's been waiting for this moment ever since the chuckle first came out of the black in his head. He had watched as the chuckle had shown him things and asked him to do things and hurt him until he had complied and now was the time. The chuckle turns to a scream, but he is able to maintain control. He looks at this lawyer who stares back as if he were growing a second head. He doesn’t pay attention to the next question and answers with the only thing that makes sense now, \"He is just a man. He will fall. You'll make sure of it.\"\n\n\"Maybe you didn't understand my question,\" says the lawyer, \"so I'll ask it again. The prosecution has alleged you were at Gully Park on the night of May 19 of last year, where were you actually at on that night?\"\n\n\"He is just a man. He will fall. You'll make sure of it.\"\n\n\"I don't understand what you mean. Can you explain what you mean by that to the jury,\" asks the lawyer. \n\n\nThe man desperately holding onto that clarity looks at the jury and said…", "\"He is just a man.\", Dr. Wily stated nonchalantly.\n\n\"He is the second son of Light, Dr. Wily. We are afraid.\", replied Air Man.\n\n\"Have I not made you strong? Have I not made you quick?\"\n\nSwiftly, Quick Man raised his arm. \"Um, yes. You made me, Quick Man. I'm pretty sure I'm the fastest man ever built, Dr. Wily, but... I'm also afraid.\"\n\nDr. Wily threw up his hands in frustration. \"Oh, for heaven's sake, is there no one of you eight that isn't frightened by that blue bomber?\"\n\nThe Robot Masters shared glances between themselves. They all knew how the last set had been destroyed. Violently. Extremely violently.\n\nMetal Man raised his hand. \"I, um, would have to say no. We are all very afraid.\"\n\nDr. Wily stared at him, his frown causing his mustache to quiver. \"You are designed to throw metal saw blades. You are one of the most dangerous men ever built. A walking tool shop accident intending to happen. And yet, AND YET, you claim to be afraid.\"\n\n\"Scared out of my bolts, Dr. Wily.\"\n\nDr. Wily slammed his fists onto his desk. His Robot Masters were unwilling to fight. \"Fine. FINE. Most of the areas I intend for you to control can be navigated WITHOUT most of the platforms. No safety railings, no contiguous paths, damn it, let's just make some of them vanish after use! Will that satisfy you?!\"\n\nQuick Man rose his hand again. \"Um, I'd like some big lasers to defend myself.\"\n\nThrowing his hands into the air, Dr. Wily turned and walked towards his work bench. \"FINE! Bloody huge lasers it IS! For the love of... You know what? Let's make him FALL through them! Mega Man WILL fall, I WILL take over the world, and even if it takes another batch of robots to your paranoid specifications... I'll make sure of it.\"", "“Three million dollars in cybernetic implants. The best neurocoding money can buy. A lifetime of intensive physical training and corporate indoctrination.”\n\n“You’re making this job sound very expensive,” Brooke said dryly.\n\n“We’re willing to work with that,” said Mr. Smith, adjusting his sunglasses. “The point is, he’s got every advantage our erstwhile partners could bring to bear. And he has defeated assassins, neurohacks, and the best inventions of our medical and countermedical teams. But in the end, he’s still just a man. It’s the conclusion of our team here that that’s the only way left to bring him down to our level.”\n\n“Did I not specify clearly enough that I don’t do seduction?”\n\nMr. Smith’s eyebrows shot over the rim of his sunglasses. “Oh, don’t appeal to his sex drive, that’s offensively prosaic. We recognize that. But I believe you can appeal to his humanity.” The eyebrows settled back down and a smile came online. “God knows no one else will.”\n\nAdam Anderson, star child of the largest, savviest corporate power in the hemisphere. Brooke wasn’t sure what his actual purpose was, though assassination seemed likely. He appeared in corporate press releases looking highly technological. She suspected the blue visor was ornamental. A man who needed to see action couldn’t depend on such an exposed prosthetic. No, Adam was the perfect fighter. That was only one of the many reasons Mr. Smith’s company wanted him willingly on their side. They expected great returns, if only in the knowledge that reverse engineering him would yield.\n\nShe was pricing this like a kill job. So far as she knew, sooner or later it basically was.\n\nMr. Smith’s people placed him within the city, for how long nobody knew. In fact they had cracked the tracker on him well enough to place him within a few meters as long as he was outdoors. Brooke relied on that the first day she hit the road with a precariously packed briefcase.\n\nThere he was, half a head taller than most of the crowd, no visor in sight, eyes downcast and baggy sweatshirt completely failing to mask the upright posture and careful balance. It was all very human. She needed that.\n\nHer shoulder hit his upper arm. Papers swooshed in every direction through the crowd. Brooke dropped to her knees and waited for Adam’s move. “Oh, my God,” he said in a pleasant tenor. “I’m so sorry.” He was crouching, picking up papers with inhuman precision, one movement, one sheet, no more or less. “I’m sorry, miss. Are you okay?”\n\nEyes that were probably scanning and misinterpreting her vital signs even as they moved. Hands that could kill a man with the lightest pinch, now occupied in something infinitely more mundane. A surprisingly kind smile, almost faint compared with the high wattage he turned on in company ads.\n\nShe met his eyes and smiled back. Progress.\n", "The fibres of the sandbag were rough against your skin as a rougher hand yanked it off the top of your head. Your heart leapt at the sudden motion and the light that finally streamed in after hours and hours of just sitting in silence and seeming solitude causes your eyes actual, physical pain. \n\nYou have been adamant not to say anything as you sat – definitely not to plead. You had been captured, your plans foiled. But you’re not defeated unless you gave up. Even if you die, others could carry on your cause, perhaps depending on how you act in these final moments. \n\nSo you naturally chose wilful defiance. You stifled the groan from the harsh of your surroundings, identified two silhouettes to your ten and three o’clock through the slit of the squint in your eyes. You spit at ten o’clock. And as you tried to reload your spit – your body was struggling to come up with any amount of moisture now – your face recoiled to its left from a merciless slap from three o’clock. \n\nYour cheek burns with rage. You were fully awake now, and you look at your captors to burn their identities into memory. \n\n“He’s just a man. He will fall!” you told them. “I’ll make goddamn sure of it.”\n\nThree o’clock was a portly man who was as smug as they came. He bellowed in laughter. Ten o’clock was a younger lady, silently wiping her dress now. You cursed under your breath. It would have been much more satisfying to have your spit land on the smug man.\n\n“What if he’s not a man, eh? How about an idea, a system? How do you kill the system?”\n\n“Greg…” Ten o’clock began. \n\n“Don’t say my name in front of this filth!” Greg yelled. “This traitor, this worthless scum who spent his life in a pointless pursuit.” And then his lips pulled into the widest grin. “He needs to know how futile his actions have been, how worthless his death is going to be…”\n\nHe leaned in, way too close. \n\n\"Remember the Contests? Every five years, His Majesty requires the entire populace to nominate and vote for their best and brightest.\" \n\nAs he spoke, his breath was hot and wet, like his lips were going to kiss my ear. But I soon forgot all about that as his words came.\n\n“King Raven, His Majesty, does not exist. He was made up to keep the populace happy, mandate from the gods and all. Do you realise now that you have been chasing your own tail? There is no man to stab a knife into. Democracy will not die.”\n\n\n---\n\n2nd drafts eventually go [here](https://fivenswrite.wordpress.com).", "\"He is just a man. He will fall.\" Athena said, lazily flicking hair out of her eyes as she lounged in a pile of cushions.\n\nA flurry of scoffs and derision rose for a moment from the centre of the room where the other Olympians stood huddled around Hera's scrying mirror. As indifferent as Athena was, the 10 others were deeply worried. It took something serious to get the attention of this many gods, and to hold it for this long? Almost unheard of.\n\nApollo had started to fret, feeling something dark looming just outside of his foresight. His twin, Artemis, comforted him as best she could without tearing her eyes away from the scene in the mirror. Hera bit her thumbnail thoughtfully before straightening up.\n\n\"Someone will need to tell Zeus.\" She said, resignedly.\n\nEven Athena sat up at that. Every god quickly put their forefinger to the side of their nose in a \"not it\" gesture. A round of mocking and cajoling laughter was directed at poor Dionysus who was always just a little too slow at this game. He grumbled, gathered up the loose folds of his toga with minimal wine spillage and left the hall to find the King of Gods.\n\n--------------------------------------------\n\nZeus pinched the bridge of his nose, exasperated. \n\n\"OK, to recap, a mortal man is climbing Olympus. He's got further than any other attempt. And NONE OF YOU HAVE DONE ANYTHING BUT WATCH?!\"\n\nThe other 11 gods shrank back in the face of his rage. He was the one who did things. Well, the big things anyway. This seemed so far out of each of their specialities!\n\nZeus composed himself, trying to remember who he was dealing with. \n\n\"It's fine, it's fine. We still have time to fix this. But it's going to be a lesson for all of you.\" He reached into the air and plucked a lightning bolt from the sky. \"The first of you to halt our climbing intruder will win this bolt.\"\n\nAthena fell back into her cushions for a nap, she had no interest in the contest believing herself too wise for such diversions. The other gods eyed the lightning bolt hungrily, the pure power it contained had countless uses and each wanted it for their own purposes. \n\nZeus sat upon his throne to oversee the contest, standing again briefly to nick a pillow from the sleeping Athena and cushioning his throne with it. \n\n\"Draw lots to see which order you'll go in, you pinheads will never decide otherwise.\" Zeus ordered, nipping a developing drama in the bud.\n\nThe gods drew lots and ordered themselves accordingly. The scrying mirror was moved to allow Zeus to see the progress and the waiting gods could gauge each others success or failures. Ares had the first slot although he had to be warned not to make a bloody mess of the mountain. \n\nAres donned his armour and went to the climber. He appeared armed and gleaming, 12 foot tall, just ahead of the mortal. The man caught sight of him and started, knocking loose a shower of pebbles.\n\n\"Mortal!\" said Ares in his most godly voice, \"You trespass. Be gone from here!\" \n\nThe man shook his head and kept climbing, taking a circular route around the god of war. Ares stared daggers at him for a moment before repositioning so he was directly uphill from the man. He struck his sword hard against his shield, a mighty clash sounded and visibly shook the climber but he held on. A disgruntled Ares lifted his sword high above his head and brought it swinging down fast.\n\nThe sword didn't even scratch the marble floor of the gods' hall. Zeus eyed Ares with distaste. \n\n\"No killing.\" He said simply, explaining the sudden recall.\n\nPoseidon was next. He ignored the japes and calls of \"Fishbreath\" and \"Gillface\" and concentrated all his godly power on summoning a vast amount of water. He raised an ocean and threw it down the mountain at the climber. \n\nThat amount of water rushing down a mountain makes one hell of a noise, alerting the resilient climber just in time to duck into a small cave. It took over an hour for the water to pass, but he was protected. When he ventured out, the mountainside was littered with dying fish, seaweed and one very confused shark.\n\nHera tutted as she watched the water flow away and settle.\n\n\"There goes Atlantis. I always liked them.\" She said, morosely. \"My turn, then.\"\n\nHera, goddess of marriage, reached into the man's mind and found images of his wife, memories of her waiting for him at home and his worries about her safety. Hera brought these to the front of his mind, embellishing his memories with images of her own. The climber halted and dropped to his knees. His hands convulsively grasped at a pouch around his neck and he prayed. He prayed for strength and courage and overcame Hera's manipulation.\n\nDionysus stumbled down the mountain next, his wineskin full to bursting. He met the man and smiled the smile of a drunken stranger. His unfocused eyes and slack mouth reminiscent of every small town drunk the whole world over. He offered the wineskin to the climber, almost forcing it into his hands. After a few polite refusals, the man took a sip from the skin to try and appease the wine stained stranger. Dionysus reacted badly to sharing his wine, forgetting his plan to get the climber too drunk to climb any further. He snatched back the wineskin and shoved the mortal roughly. \n\nThe step backwards he took was the closest thing to a retreat that any god had managed to evince so far and Dionysus took that as a small victory as he was recalled by Zeus.\n\nHunter goddess, Artemis, stretched her arms up and grinned, confident of success. She summoned animals from all over the mountain to overpower the climber and carry him back down. Foxes, badgers, birds of prey, rabbits and wolves began to emerge. Sadly, the buffet of fish from Poseidon was too much for most of them to resist. The rabbits might have managed it by themselves but the circling buzzards made sure that none of them got close enough to try. \n\nHer hand was on her bow before she knew it, with an arrow knocked in a heartbeat. Her pride was wounded and now that climber would feel her wrath. Zeus cleared his throat pointedly and she lowered the bow sheepishly.\n\nA waft of the sweetest perfume surrounded the mortal climber, like dawn blooming flowers after a crisp night. A vision of purest beauty appeared before him, clad in gauze so fine it was almost see through. Her honey hair lifted in the slight breeze and seemed to beckon him. She was looking directly at him and his body no longer felt like his own. His steps lead him straight to her, hypnotised by her shy smile. Aphrodite leaned forward ever so slightly and touched her velvet soft lips to his. \n\nThe climber pushed forward to kiss her more deeply, surprised that she allowed it. He reached trembling hands towards her skin, stroking the silk of her thigh, her neck, the small of her back. He took a deep breath, filling his lungs with the scent of her and promptly collapsed. One nudge with a delicate toe sent him rolling downhill. Aphrodite quilted his route with a thick carpet of rose petals so that he would be unharmed.\n\nBack in the hall, she accepted the lightning bolt gracefully.\n\n\"He was just a man. He fell.\" ", "\n Amanda enjoyed spending time looking at Samuel, his golden shock of hair tumbling over his ears making him seem a king. He had the greenest of eyes flecked with bold black, the scorch marks of a fiery soul too wrathful to contain in his structured nose and cheekbones. Samuel had a dangerous smile, too much canine flashing in his toothy reveal. Amanda loved it. \n\nAmanda loved everything about him. He had a baritone laugh that struck cords the best bass could only hope to mimic. His lonely shroud, draped around him and warding people off, was beautiful. Samuel and leather jeans married together better than the finest of culinary combinations, tasty and heavenly. Yes, Amanda loved everything about him. \n\nAmanda doesn’t know when she started. She never talked to him, wouldn’t dare approach him yet, not while he was still so out of her reach. She took pictures, though. She snapped photo after photo, as if the freeze frame could bring them closer together than the flesh apparition of reality. \n\nHer mother didn’t dare set foot into her room anymore. It was plastered with photos of Samuel, some taken at school, others in his house, others when he was at his part-time job—another attractive bit—the working man he was. She wanted to devour every aspect of him, get to know him in all the detail she could. \n\nShe stared out the window. The sea sketched a slick line of scarlet kissing the shoreline, almost like rivulets of blood forming the tragic curve of a smile. Today, then. Today was the day she would finally dare approach him. She put on her battle armor, red red lipstick and summer gown. He was only human. He would fall. She would make sure of it. \n", "Sarabi hurried into the dimly lit hovel as the sun set and the traders-of-the-day were replaced by the traders-of-the-evening. Though she tried to keep a low profile, she could not entirely suppress the winds that whipped about her as she walked, and instead merely stirred up a cloud of dust that drew the displeasure - but, thankfully, not the attention - of a small band of aspiring drunks.\n\nOn crude stools around a small fire sat two men and a slim, genderless figure. One of the men was young and comely, with smooth brown skin layered over masterfully sculpted muscle showcased by a rich purple vest. The other was old and fat and hairy, dressed in clothes appropriate for a large feast, a trickle of coins issuing from his pocket and piling at his feet just as winds whipped about Sarabi's.\n\nThe last figure was sunken inside a night-black cloak that looked far larger than it needed to be. It could be hiding a giant or a dwarf, but none had ever seen the wearer's true stature and lived to tell the tale. It rose as Sarabi arrived, with a slow, fluid motion that pushed through the air as if it were molasses. Both men wore grim scowls on their faces, but the cloaked figure's anger was palpable. Sarabi adjusted the lacing of her shirt as the heat of its anger grew uncomfortable.\n\n\"Sarabi,\" the old man snorted. \"How kind of you to come.\"\n\nShe shrugged off his greeting and turned to the young man. \"Adaro. I am delighted to see you well.\"\n\nAdaro grinned, and the joyous ascending tones of a flute filled the room, clear but distant. \"And I you, Sarabi, but I too hold a grudge against your lateness.\" He nodded at the old man. \"I have been too long alone with Wint, and I lay the blame at your beautiful feet.\"\n\nWint, jingling with the sound of gold, rose, but the cloaked figure spoke before he could open his mouth. \"Enough,\" it spoke in a thin, rasping tone. \"We have business to discuss. You children may squabble when it is done.\"\n\nThe three of them mumbled apologies, and Wint retook his seat. Sarabi took the last stool, across from him. \"So,\" she said, \"who else is joining us?\"\n\n\"No-one, dear Sarabi,\" said Adaro mournfully. \"There is no-one else.\"\n\n\"Surely,\" she said anxiously, \"at least good Paelon has survived? Rosana?\" The wind picked up outside the hut until it could be heard to rise with her voice. \"Tarhan is still alive, isn't she? He wouldn't kill a child?\"\n\n\"We are all that remains of our kind,\" the cloaked figure said.\n\n\"Which means that we must not tarry,\" Wint said forcefully. \"And we must not be petty.\" He glared at Adaro, who did not respond. \"I have acquired information. Haril is not without weakness,\" he paused expectantly.\n\n\"Well, what is it?\" Sarabi asked indignantly.\n\n\"His father,\" Wint said. His satisfied grin withered when neither Sarabi nor Adaro showed any sign of comprehension. \"His father, old and decrepit in a village not far from here. He looks like this,\" and he tossed each of the other three a coin which bore the likeness of an old man, not noble or proud, but beaten down by a long, trying life.\n\n\"So?\" Sarabi said. \"He has a father.\"\n\n\"He has someone he cares about,\" Adaro said as the realization dawned, \"someone defenseless. If we take his father -\"\n\n\"Then he will fall,\" said the faceless figure.\n\n\"Mortal men are very concerned with the welfare of their fathers,\" Adaro explained to a confused Sarabi. \"When they are young, they hope to become them. When they are old, they fear it. When they are dead, they know that they cannot but follow, as they have followed in the old man's footsteps all their lives.\"\n\n\"If we take his father, then we have captured Haril, not killed him. Imagine what we could do with him as our servant! Haril Champion of Eltas! Haril Shieldbreaker! Haril Godslayer! Ours!\" Wint exlaimed.\n\nSarabi turned to the cloaked figure. \"Will you be the one to do the deed?\"\n\n\"I do not capture.\"\n\nShe turned to Adaro. \"Not I,\" he said. \"Desperate times these may be, but to steal away an old man is not in my constitution. What sort of song and story would that make?\"\n\n\"Nor is dirty work in mine,\" said Wint, \"more's the pity. It wouldn't fit for a merchant to do his own dirty work, much though I wish to.\"\n\nSarabi nodded. \"Than I must do it,\" she said, \"he will be carried away by the angry wind. It is within me to do such a thing.\"\n\nThe other three nodded, and Sarabi left the hovel. Just outside the door was the corpse of a small child, heavily rotted. She supposed they must have been listening at the door to the hovel, and only the faceless one had noticed. She shrugged, and a moment later there was only a gust of wind where she had been.", "Nova shifted in his seat uncomfortably. Despite being one of the strongest heroes in the world, he still felt outclassed in this briefing room. The Director of the International Hero Association himself was here, along with the rest of the top heroes worldwide. It didn't help that the subject they were discussing was on the topic of killing one of his old friends. \n\n\"Machiavelli will not keep undermining IHA.\" General Winter, the top hero from Russia spoke bluntly. His voice weighted with a heavy accent and slight growl. \n\n\"General Winter, we understand that you are angry after Machiavelli's investigation in Moscow. However this life sentence you have proposed is impossible.\" The Director replied.\n\n\"Director, General, if I may?\" The heroine named Cypher cut in from across the table. \"What if we utilized my power to lock away his trump card from the rest of his power, and then gave him a trigger word to force him to surrender when spoken by a hero of a high enough caliber? In return for these limiters, we could forgo jail entirely?\"\n\nGeneral Winter reclined in his chair and closed his eyes. \n\n\"I would agree with this punishment.\" He spoke.\n\n\"I haven't authorized this yet, but we will look into the possibility of using your limiters on him.\" The Director replied.\n\n\"Yes sir.\" \n\nThe room fell into a silence. Even the strongest people in the world can fall to awkward silences. Nova took a mental note of this as the Director cleared his throat.\n\n\"We have information on where Machiavelli is investigating the Bureau next.\" The Director pulled up a holographic heads up display in front of him and sent a file to the heroes. Nova's personal shielding unit made a ping to notify him that he had a new message and he pulled up the document on the holographic display created by the PSU. He opens it and a picture of Berlin is projected in front of him. \n\n\"Police security drones has reported sightings of Machiavelli's fragments around the city.\" The pictures change to an album of Machiavelli's creations. Courage, Creativity, Insanity, Speech, Wisdom, Loyalty, all six fragments had been sighted. Nova's eyes narrowed slightly at the last fragment, he still was frustrated from their last encounter nearly six months ago.\n\n\"Well then. He's not exactly being subtle about this.\" The top hero from Britain, Chess, observed. \"He's trying to smoke the Bureau out of hiding.\"\n\n\"So he's expecting a fight?\" Soundwave, top hero from Brazil, questioned.\n\n\"Spot on. However, judging by the sighting locations of his fragments, he isn't expecting the IHA to be his enemy.\"\n\nFinally, Nova decided to speak up. \n\n\"So what's our game plan? How are we approaching this?\" \n\n\"It is difficult to trap this projectionist.\" General Winter commented. \"In our fight in Moscow, my trump card was not enough. He broke through ice dome.\"\n\n\"The plan is to airdrop you into the city, then go on the offensive and give him no openings to escape.\" The Director explained. \"The Berlin police force and hero team will be providing backup in this fight. The rest of your strategy will need to be created on the flight over to Berlin, there's a dropship outside. Cypher, I want you to stay back.\"\n\n\"Yes sir.\" She responded.\n\nThe rest of us stood and headed to the locker rooms to equip our costumes and tech. As we filed out of the room, the Director called after us.\n\n\"Remember people, he's just a rogue hero. He will fall like the rest of them. You'll make sure of that.\"\n\nNova surveyed his allies. He was in the presence of one of the most powerful hero squadrons ever assembled in the history of the IHA. Yet he still wasn't sure it would be enough.\n\nIf you found this story interesting, come check out /r/TheQuestionableYarn\nI'll be responding to prompts to flesh out my two worldbuilding projects. Semi-regularly.\n\ncheck back later in the week for part 2, feeling inspired here.", "Isabela stood looking through the window of her office.\n\"But I can't, he is my boss, I cannot work against him behind his back\"\nJohnny approaches Isabela, and puts his hand on her shoulder\n\"You can do this Isabela, I worked hard for this information, you just need to make sure it gets to the right hands.\"\nIsabela turns around and looks Johnny in the eye, his face is emotionless.\n\"I worked hard for this job Johnny, if he finds out, what do you think he will do?\"\n\"Isabela you can take him down, and use the opportunity to take his place in the council and bam, you're at the top!\"\nIsabela looks to the ground, avoiding the man's gaze\n\"What's in it for you?\"\nJohnny smiles\n\"I worked hard for all this information, you find me a good position under you\"\n\"One with better pay I assume?\"\n\"Of course\"\nIsabela takes Johnny's hand away from her shoulder.\n\" I don't know Johnny, he is my boss. What if he finds out?\"\nJohnny caresses her face\n\"He is just a man Isabela, he will fall, and you will make sure of that\"\nIsabela looks Johnny in the eyes\n\"Alright, I will do it\"", "Man-made. So much destruction in such a short phrase. The castle explodes with steam every half hour, the dense clouds of black like dark omens as they dissipate amongst the soft greens of the forest floor. Her forest. The girl detangles her arm from the tree trunk carefully, the vines surrendering at her request before latching again to her hair, her cheeks. Buds of flowers blooming a palate of colours in her tanned skin.\n\"How needy,\" she mumbles, but relaxes against the branches, swinging her legs, watching. A little boy with hair as deep and dark as dirt trails his fingers along the brick walls of the palace, laughing. A bolder, older man chases him and throws him in the air, grinning at every shriek the child makes. It would warm her heart, but that man wears a crown. He will die in a fortnight. Poison has that effect on people. Shame he wasn't as thorough with his wine as he was uncovering her Earth. The Mother had whispered it, he is just a man. He will fall. You'll make sure of that. The wind whips against her skin, wild as commanded and she opens her eyes to feel it's sting. The girl draws a sharp breath, pressing her nails into her skin, waiting for the dew to drip from the cuts. It's still surprising. Just a man. She pushes against the wind, drawing it under her hand, watching it wither and seep into her flesh. Just a man. With better precision then their archers, strength wished for by their knights, she directs the full force of her people and without fail, she will end a bloodline. Then the child of crowns laughed. It blooms the flowers growing on her. The girl lowers her hand, curls it in the soft petals. Just a man. But that is not a man, just a boy.", "I watch carefully as he grabs the grocery list before heading out the door. My eyes narrow as I watch his car backing out of the driveway from the kitchen window. Our eyes briefly meet, and I give him the most pleasant smile I can muster up through the anger boiling my blood. He buys it, giving me a half-assed wave before driving away. \n\nI get to work. \n\nDeath would be a luxury for him. I need to make him suffer. I need to plan carefully. He is significantly bigger in size; however, I am bigger in wit. He's a doer whereas I am a thinker. \n\nI grab the rope from the basement, hiding it in the snack cabinet in the kitchen. I grab the ingredients to make his favorite beverage, placing a single roofie beside the bottle of vodka. I will mix that together soon. \n\nI head upstaris to clean up the messes in the bathroom and bedroom. I wince as the back and forth mopping movements stretch the gashes on my back. I then clean the knives and razors dripping with my blood. I will need these later. After all of the blood is mopped up, I take a shower, biting down on my lower lip as the hot water and soap burn the open wounds littering my body. \n\nI then pick out my nicest dress, and I curl my hair, something I haven't done in years. I contour to slim my face, and I spritz my finest perfume. I look the part of a model trophy wife. \n\nI grab the knives and razors and head downstairs. I hide the weapons with the rope and get to mixing the perfect drink. I use his favorite glass. He won't be able to resist. \n\nWhile lighting candles around the kitchen, I hear the cardoor close. I have set the stage, and now it is time for the main act- an act of despair yet an act of revenge. \n\nTonight, I will be the seductress. Tonight, I will end the years of suffering once and for all. \n\nHe is just a man. He will fall. I'll make sure of that. ", "######[](#dropcap)\n\nFaith Alathir turned away from her cousin, her gaze directed towards the balcony and the bright spring afternoon outside. \n\n\"No.\"\n\nHer cousin, beginning to arrange his papers and leave looked up, surprised. \n\n\"Pardon? I fear I misheard you, dear cousin.\"\n\nFaith spun back towards him, her dark eyes cold as she glared at him. \"No. You heard correctly, Torren. A man he may be, but he is ten times the person you could ever amount to. He is resourceful, loyal, skillful and brave to a fault. You have none of those qualities. I know you've wanted him gone since the moment I returned home. And it's clear why; he's the only person here within these walls you can't control, whether by bribery or blackmail or favors.\"\n\nA long silence passed between the two before the elder Torren Alathir spoke. \n\n\"You spout nonsense, dear Faith. I do not want that unwashed savage here because he disturbs the harmony and tranquility of this sacred place. He is a killer without honor, surely your time amongst their number has proven that.\"\n\nThe thinnest of smiles escaped Faith's lips. \"Yes. He is rather... pragmatic. And unscrupulous sometimes, when he has to. But you'd be wrong if you called him a Man without honor. His honor is measured in deeds and actions, not words or appearances.\n\n\"Now, Torren, dearest cousin. Allow me to make my counter-offer. You will desist in all your schemes and attempts at trying to remove Flint from my retinue. And in return I shall forget the missing Clan funds that somehow found their way into your personal accounts... Oh? That flash of surprise tells me that my barb struck true. You're not the only one who can play this game of politics, Torren. And while I do not desire the throne I'll be dead before I see you wear our grandfather's crown. I bid you good day, and will see you at supper in the Great Hall.\"\n\nWith that she left the room, and closed the door behind her with a gentle click. Still within the study, leaning over the heavy wooden table Torren Alathir seethed, swiping his letters and papers off the desk with a roar of anger. His cousin's wish could readily be arranged...\n\n\n\n", "'And when he does, then what?’\n\n‘Then the rest will fall with him my dear,’ she pulled a rose from the garden and began to pluck the petals, watching the breeze steal them from her fingertips.\n\n‘What if I am to refuse?’\n\nHer mother turned her back, facing toward the South Sea. The afternoon sun leaked from behind a great storm that brewed on the horizon. Golden light dripped onto the face of the waves before being plunged into the dark depths of the ocean.\n\nThis was her place, the Garden of Elaine, the soft bricks would hold her footprints if she were not so light on her feet. The flowers bloom all year round when she's in the city, but wither and die when she leaves.\n\n'You will not,’ She didn't turn to meet her daughters gaze, only stared out at the cliffs and watched as the storm turned the water murky.\n\n‘I was once in love with a man, centuries ago, when the west was crawling with them…’\n\n‘I do not mean to say I am in love with him! Do not be so crude,’ she interrupted her mother.\n\n‘They were once a formidable race,’ her mother continued as if she had not heard, ‘although their numbers now dwindle in the thousands, they were once in the millions.’\n\n‘If they are weak, why bother at all?’\n\n‘After all this time by his side, you still do not understand, even while you stand here and defy the one that bought you into this life. Weak? He will bleed like a man, and fall like a man. This does not make him weak.’\n" ]	13
As long as they are truly loved by a single human being, anyone can be accepted into heaven.	[WP] What it takes to get into heaven.	[ "I laid on my bed, unaware of what was about to happen. I had led a bad life, I knew it. But I wanted to be forgiven. So I closed my eyes. I started to pray. I asked God to look upon me and see me. To see all i had done. I asked him to look at me and see the remorse, my shame. \n\nI didn't know if he could hear me. All I could hear was the monitors I was connected to. I kept praying. I made a list of all the things I'd done wrong. That I could remember anyway. I thought about them and how wrong they were. I thought about the people I'd hurt, the evil things I'd done. I felt ashamed. I felt small and bad. I felt as if, maybe, I didn't deserve forgiveness. How could any one forgive all the evil I've perpetrated? \n\nBut I kept my eyes closed and prayed. I heard the monitors slow, then the beeping stopped. I didn't know if I was still alive. I didn't know if I was dead. I couldn't open my eyes. Then I felt a tug, something pulling me. I felt heat and warmth, but I didn't know where it came from. Then I heard it. I heard but not with sound or words. I heard it in myself. I heard what I had been seeking. \"You have been forgiven.\" I opened my eyes and I was there. ", "Evan saw his long lost daughter in the face of the nine-year-old that was holding her mother's hand across the street and he was mesmerized. How long had it been? Longer than he could remember, that was for sure. Long before he had to start eating from the trash cans in Houston. He remembered Susane all too well and the little girl he was looking at now resembled his dead daughter, bringing to him memories of a time all too different than his reality.\n\nFor a moment, Evan had forgotten his saggy clothing and his putrid smell. He had forgotten the plastic bag in which he carried his belongings as he crossed the street, still mesmerized by the girl. \nIn a second, she ran towards the other side of the street before her mother could pull her back. \nEvan quickly turned to the right and saw the girl running after her doll that had somehow ended in the middle of the street. He reacted and ran towards the girl as he saw the car trying to brake and avoid hitting her. In a single second, he pushed the eight-year-old out of the way and felt every bone in his body crush under the pressure of the red van's front wheels. \nThe car stopped and Evan laid under it barely breathing as he tried to pull himself away of the car while he laid on his stomach. His head was numb, time was passing slow for him. But he could see the little girl crying on the side walk as her mother ran towards her. People were gathering around the accident but no one came close to him. They stared and talked as he slowly started to drift away. And in his last seconds, Evan saw his young Susane right there, on the side walk crying. \nHe felt a soft touch on his left hand as his eyes closed one last time and his mind rested at ease. \n\n\n" ]	2
	[WP] You’re a retired pro-gamer. One morning you wake up to find that you can perform all of the abilities and skills from that game in real life.	[ "\"I bestow you the power of Dota!\" a voice coming from nowhere and everywhere said. I was overwhelmed with a surge of power, and woke up. Jesus... it was just a dream. But what if... I thought back at my career in dota, where my most played hero had been Nature's Prophet, an intelligent hero with great power. Envisioning his abilities, I felt a strange feeling inside of me. Roots sprung from the floor beneath me, covering me with leaves and vegetation, and suddenly I had teleported to another place. An ancient tree stood before me, surrounded by a chain fence. The trunk was massively wide, like nothing I had ever seen before. Guards stood nearby. Seems like I had teleported into some tourist attraction. Inside of me, a voice told me to destroy the tree. The same voice from the dream. \"Use your powers!\" it said. And so I did. Focusing on one of the guards, I made trees rise from beneath him, growing at an insane speed untill he was trapped within a circle of them. The other guards sensed that this was my making, so they charged me with drawn swords. I panicked, not being prepared for being attacked. Then, by instinct, I called out \"Shadow blade!\" and turned invisible. The guards stood there dumbfounded. It took all of my focus to remain invisible, and I knew it would break if I tried another spell. I was safe, but the voice commanded me to destroy the ancient tree that stood before me. Feeling the invisibility slip away, I quickly hid in some nearby bushes. Then I heard a battle cry. Four other people came running up to the location, weilding axes and quarter staffs. \"Radiant will lose!\" They chanted. The guards attacked them. One of the champions was mounted on a horse, weilding a club. He charged into the middle of the guards, taking them on all by himself. \"Chaos Knight, retreat!\" another champion shouted. The guards finally managed to push the newcomers back. But in doing so, the ancient was left unprotected. I considered helping these guys against the guards, but I didn't like the idea of fighting someone head on. The omnipresent voice returned: \"Choose your destiny!\" Instantly filled with magical energies, I knew what I had to do. I transformed into a small, furry rodent. A rat. Then I pounced the ancient tree, and began gnawing. I knew right then I had lost my humanity forever, but it was the only way. The only way to win was through rat doto.", "Ernest Heinze woke up one morning to the sound of a leaky faucet. 'Damn thing.' he thought as he opened his eyes to stare at the paint peeling away above his bed. He pulled the thin sheet a little tighter over himself, trying to recover the last of that sleepy warmth, but it was no use.\n\nThe drip-drip-drop niggled at Ernest's mind and made him feel like he had an itch between his eyeballs.\n\n\"I'm coming damnit!\" he shouted to the faucet and swung his skinny legs out of bed. The bare floorboards were cold and he coughed as he shivered through his little apartment to the the bathroom. \n\nThe tiled floor of the bathroom was even colder than the floorboards in the main room. \n\nDrip-drip-drop. He pulled the shower curtain savagely aside turned each tap tightly and looked up at the showerhead. \n\nDrip-drip-drop. \"Dang it!\" he said, yorking on each tap in succession. \n\nDrip-drip-drop. He climbed into the shower to get a better angle on it, and tried again.\n\nDrip-drip-drop. Frustrated beyond words he let out a feral grunt and threw his body into it, bracing his skinny legs against the edges of the tub and twisted, twisted, twiiisted until…\n\nSNAP!\n\nThe tap snapped clean off, taking a chunk of the tiled wall with it, his feet lost purchase on sides of the tub and he went down arms flailing. CRACK! His head struck the bath faucet on the way down, and… WHUMPF! The cold bottom of the tub knocked the wind out of him.\n\nDrip-drip-drop. Drip-drip-drop. \n\nThe was something wet on his face. \n\nHe opened his eyes for the second time that morning and looked up at the water dripping off the leaking faucet. A big drop was forming on the edge of the showerhead. He watched it swell, and fall, headed straight for his nose. 'Just move over' he thought, and too his astonishment the drop seemed to shudder in mid-air, then it jumped a few inches to fall just next to his left ear.\n\nErnest puzzled about that, until another drop hit him in the nose. Then he looked up at the showerhead again and focused on the drops of water falling down towards him. 'Left' he thought, and a drop flew off side ways and hit the wall of the bath room. 'Right' he thought, and the next drop fell onto the bathroom floor. 'Left! Right! Left! Left!' Where ever he told the drops to go, they went. \n\nHe sat up in the tub, all annoyance and the growing goose egg on the back of his head forgotten. None of that mattered. He had just realised what this meant. Ernest had just become telekinetic, or so he thought. \n\nHe shifted his concentration to the rubber duck, sitting on the edge of the tub. 'Left' he thought. The duck did nothing. 'Right' he thought willing the duck to move. The duck just smiled its little rubber smile at him. \"Left!\" in his frustration he actually yelled it out loud. Still the duck just sat there. \n\nAngrily, he picked up the duck and threw it across the little bathroom. It bounced, squeaking in protest, off the far wall and fell towards the toilet bowl. He had a sudden moment of panic, for it was his favourite duck. 'Left' he thought and, just as the water droplets had, the duck shuddered in mid-air and slid across the room, like it was on a rail, only to resume falling again when he let it go over the sink. \n\n\"So,\" he spoke out loud to the bathroom, \"it's only falling objects.\" A big smile broke out across his face, spreading from ear to ear. \"I know this game.\" he said.\n\nHe got slowly out of the tub and dried himself. Thankfully the bump on the back of his head seemed not to be bleeding. \n\nThe main room seemed brighter and cleaner than it had in weeks and even the aging Chinese takeaway containers surrounding his gaming area didn't bother him. As he got dressed he admired the gold cartridge trophies arranged above the NES. \n\nHe clapped a big furry Russian hat on his head and then Ernest Heinze, former World Tetris Champion, stepped out into the snow of New York City to test his powers.", "\"Hey, guys, short video today, since I really don't have time to talk.\n\n\"You know I've played Destiny forever. That was really my main game, on this channel. And I played a 335 Stormcaller. I... uh... Jesus, I don't really know how to put this.\"\n\nI looked down at my hands, breathing in and out, trying to keep my panic inside.\n\n\"Uh... I guess, I have those abilities, now? I won't be able to prove this, I mean, this is the internet, video editing software is at a prime. But... uh...\" I held up my hands, and willed the blinding electricity into existence. It sparked around the room, and I was knocked backwards out of my chair and into the back wall, hard.\n\n\"So... yeah.\"\n\n\"I'll be checking in with the rest of my raid team today. I already got a message from our Defender that he's got it too.\"\n\n\"You know what this means, right?\"\n\n\"We'll be starting a real life Destiny channel!\"", "\"Clear!\" I shout, shocking the man's chest. The people standing around me gasp as the man rises from the floor and looks around. \"It's a miracle!\" One of the women shouts. \"No ma'am, just me playing too much Battlefield 3 I answer. \"I don't know why these shock paddles work, nor do the scientists. I can't explain to you how they painstakingly reconstructed his skull, or how I got rid of the tank tread marks from-\" My phone starts to buzz. \"Sorry ma'am. The clan calls.\" I run to the street corner. A few seconds later, NWD_Charizard rolls up on a dirt bike with NWD spray painted in big black letters on the gas tank. \"You ready fam?\" He asks over the roar of the engine. \"You know it!\" I say jumping on the back. I pull an ammo crate out of my pocket and set it on his back. As we get up to speed I pull out three blocks of C4 and stick it to the side of the bike. I can see a orange marker through the buildings. \"That the tank?\" I yell over the engine. \"Yup!\" Charizard answers. \"Hit the music!\" Charizard hits a button on the soundboard and Saleel Asawarim begins playing through speakers. As we round the building, I drop off the back while Charizard keeps speeding toward the tank. \"Jihad this motherfuckers! ALALALALALALALALALALALALALALALA!\" He slams into the tank and pushes it three feet before coming to a dead stop. I click the detonator in my hand. The C4 explodes and destroys the tank, while also sending Charizard and the motorcycle towards the stratosphere. He jumps off the bike and parachutes to the wreck of the tank. I run up and join him in teabagging it repeatedly. \"They see us trollin', they hatin', patrollin' tryin to catch us fightin' dirty!\" We sing in unision.", "\"Fuck dude, where did I get these pistols?\" \n\nMichael looked at the two ancient pistols on his computer desk in confusion. He recognized them as replicas of Lucian's pistols from League, but he had no idea where they'd come from, let alone if he'd bought them. \n\n\"Jared's trolling the fuck outta me I know it...\"\n\nMichael made to queue up for the daily stream, the two pistols now moved to the top of the cats' scratching tower. As tends to happen on occasion, something distracted our lord and savior (likely Dapperdog pooping somewhere he shouldn't be) when he heard the queue pop. He begins to dash toward his desk from the other room, only to find that he was able to dash through the wall without harm to himself or the wall. \n\nIt was at that moment the two pistols fired one burst of light each, leaving two perfect holes right above his window. \n\n\"WHAT THE FUCK, MICHAEL?!\" Lisha yelled from upstairs, running down to see what had happened. \n\n(To be continued, have to go back to work)", "I'm the world's saddest musician.\n\nI didn't used to be. In highschool and college I played bass in a band with my girlfriend Hannah and three friends of mine, and we were good enough that we had state-wide success in Massachusetts. We'd even been scheduled to play at the governor's granddaughter's Sweet Sixteen, before our van crashed after a late night gig. I only broke a rib and seven bones in my left hand, but Hannah suffered internal bleeding and would be in a coma for the rest of her life.\n\nLike my fingers, my passion was smashed. I failed the next three exams and flunked out of college, got a job for the summer at a local arcade bar instead, back when they were still around. I didn't care for it, I just wanted a paycheck that could sustain what shit life I could carve out for myself. Tips weren't bad, though the people spent most their coin on the machines. The place made a good profit, and with what I remembered of my failed education I figured out how to fix the machines whenever they got busted. They hired me full-time once that happened and life seemed to get good again.\n\nAfter hours, I would always go the extra mile, cleaning everything and locking up, trying to show off to the boss in hopes of a raise. The other guy I worked with, Danny, he instead played the arcades. I occasionally played with him, though my hand gave me a disadvantage. I loved the one karaoke machine we had, but Danny was competitive and I was too good at karaoke. I mostly just fixed the machines and served people drinks. I did that for twenty years, fixing machines and serving drinks. It paid well enough, certainly once I made manager after a few years. Then the arcade market died. Without our gimmick, we couldn't keep up with other bars and went bankrupt.\n\nI sat home and only had a few jobs now and again for the next decade. Danny came by once every month, and I'd visit his family for Christmas. I had little else to look forward too. Then, for Christmas 2007, he gave me a Nintendo Wii. I thought it was a joke at first, but he was real honest about it and completely serious. With it, he gave me a game called Rock Band. I was hesitant, but curious, and I tried it out with Danny's sister Lorraine. She turned out to be a much better singer than Danny was, and she beat me by a long shot on The Who's We Won't Get Fooled Again. The second time was closer. Once we got to Foreplay//Longtime, I'd beaten her thrice in a row and I was hooked on both the game and her.\n\nAt the same time we started dating, I began to enter karaoke competitions. Whether it was with old-fashioned machines like we'd had at the bar or with games like Rock Band and SingStar, I went for it. I dug up my college notebooks with half-finished lyrics and began to write new ones again, inspired by my muses, Lorraine and Rock Band. I was good. In national competitions I made the top 3 ten times. With the prize money I made, I moved out of my old apartment and into a real house together with Lorraine. I made plans to start a new band and tour the country, singing my own songs, and they'd one day be part of those karaoke games themselves. Life was good. Life was real good.\n\nI was planning on asking Lorraine to marry me. I'd been setting prize money aside for a ring and I'd written a song just for the occasion. I woke up in a hotel in New York the night after a SingStar Queen competition. I felt weird and I'd had weird dreams about Freddy Mercury, but I shrug it off and drove home. When I opened the door, something seemed off. Though it was only the two of us living there, it always felt alive. Lorraine frequently talked to herself or sang to an invisible audience, but it was quiet. I hung up my coat and walked to the kitchen. A pan of clam chowder was sizzling on the stove, but it smelled burnt. I turned it off and looked around, starting to feel a sense of panic. I called out for Lorraine. I got no response. I called again and heard a soft reply from outside. I ran to the garden, where I found her lying on the cobblestone path. Her head was bleeding from where she'd hit it, and she was clutching at her chest.\n\nI fell down on my knees beside her and scrambled for the flip phone in my pocket to call 911. I was crying and talked to Lorraine and the operator on the other side of the phone at the same time. He told me an ambulance would arrive in twenty minutes. I didn't respond, dropping the phone and holding on to Lorraine, propping her up against me as I cradled her. I told her she had to stay strong, she had to live, that I had written a song for her and she wasn't allowed to leave me until she'd heard it.\n\n\"Then sing it for me,\" her sweet voice whispered in-between labored breaths.\n\nI breathed deeply, trying to compose myself, and counted to ten. With a cracking voice, I slowly began to sing.\n\n\"Oh! Let's go!\" I frowned, confused, thinking this was not my song. I looked down at Lorraine, and I continued.\n\n\"Steve walks warily down the street with the brim pulled way down low.\"\n\nI shook my head. This wasn't my song. What was going on?\n\nLorraine whispered, \"You sound lovely, dear. Please... go on. Go on...\"\n\nSo I continued the song. And as I sang, I thought to myself, trying to figure out this mystery that had struck me at this, the worst of moments. I would later discover that, no matter how hard I'd try, I could never sing any song that I had written myself, nor any song that I'd never heard before. I could only sing what I had heard, only make covers of existing songs. And this, perhaps more than anything, is why I have cried myself dry. As Lorraine's body slumped in my arms, her breathing ceased and pulse gone, I began a lonely chorus.\n\n\"Another one bites the dust.\"", "I'd had enough, I was done. How much can one man take? Sure I could have joined the army, I could have risen high, risen fast. \"Be all you can be\", isn't that the trite chiché they jot out at every available opportunity?\n\nIt was sickening, it really was. I sat at home and watched on CNN, night vision footage of foolish actions, young men giving their lives, and reels of boxes coming home draped in pageantry.\n\nThe politicians didn't care, they were just after the money after all. It wasn't about winning, it wasn't about justice. It wasn't about anything really.\n\nI tried to help, really I did. Every time I stepped up?\n\n\"You must construct additional Pylons.\"\n\nFuck.", "Quiet music played, while the crowd waited for the pastor to finish his speech. After he had finished, several men and women stood up and told their own experiences with Mark. He was a good man. Some people mentioned his uprightness or how he was someone you could trust without borders. He was a good friend. A bit cynical and ironical at times, but understanding. He was someone who would never refuse to fullfill the punishment of a lost bet. Nothing was embarrassing to him.\n\nWhen it was my turn to speak and add something to the many praises, i did not know what to say. I could not believe he died. I refused to. A while i just stood there, silent, while everyone was looking at me. Still silent, i walked up to the coffin and looked at it. There was a photo of his face stuck to it. He was smiling, his girlfriend hung around his shoulders. It flung me back to reality. I turned around. \"Mark...Mark was a good guy.\" Lord, think of something original. \"He was a master of life. He was the kind of guy who would become friends with his bullies and get them to change. Who could throw up in front of his teacher clear the situation with a simple apology. I really can't believe someone like him is allowed to leave this soon.\" I cleared my throat. What now? I turned around to the coffin, looking at the picture once again. \"I miss him\", I said a little quieter. \"It's a shame.\" I noticed something beneath the picture. A message. I looked at it, confused. I did not remember seeing it when I last examined the coffin. I read it. I re-read it. What.\n\nPRESS F TO PAY RESPECT\n\n---\n\nThanks for reading this! It's the first time ever I wrote something on here or anywhere at all. Criticism would be much appreciated. Excuse Grammar/Spelling/Wording issues, I'm not native and had to look up a few things actually.", "Olof Kajbjer leaned on top of the counter of his corner store, waiting for a customer to come by. He took a glance to his left, looking at the trophies, the medals he won when he was the best player in the world, with the best team in the world. He quickly snapped out of his gaze however, when he heard a car coming. “Finally, something worthwhile at least.” He thought. The two men walked into the store as Olof greeted them, with no reply, not even a glance back. “Can’t wait to get back home to stream again, at least it’s better than this.” He muttered. He took a look to the back of the store and noticed a ski mask on the floor. “That wasn’t there before...” he thought to himself. Then a clack, and saw the gun. One of the two dropped the pistol right in the middle aisle, sticking out like a sore thumb. “Stay calm, they’re probably using it as a bluff”. The duo soon showed themselves, offering his life for the money he had in the cashier. The robber shot a bullet in the roof, reconfirming Olof’s fears. With the threat on his life, Olof hid under the counter, and grabbed his dusty Glock-18 he’d purchased a couple years back. He peeked the counter fired 2 shots, which both entered the temple of one of the attackers. Before the other thieve could react, Olof was already under the counter. He peeked again to fire 2 more shots, as the other attacker met the same fate as his comraede. Olof could feel his old days, when he was with Fnatic, when he conquered the Counter-Strike world. But instead of it being in a game, he could feel it in his body, his mind, and his soul. “Olofmeister is back baby.”", "Brad stirred on the couch. He rolled around, the sunlight rousing him from his sleep as it poured through the window. An empty container of Oreos fell off the couch arm and plopped on the rug as he stirred. \n\n\"Brad!\"\n\nBrad opened his eyes. His wife's voice washed in from the kitchen.\n\n\"It's Monday, you've gotta get Sonya up! Up and at 'em, big guy!\" \n\n\"Yes, ma'am.\" Brad stood, sending the debris of his midnight snacking that had camped on his shirt down to the carpet. \n\nBrad rounded the bottom of the stairs, his meaty hand on the banister as he willed his legs up each step. He looked up to count the steps and saw a glimmer of sunlight on the stair. Well, he thought it was sunlight. He walked up a few steps, the wood creaking beneath him, and the drop of suspended sunlight, a golden, ethereal bauble hung a few inches above the last step. He got to the top of the stair and reached out his hand to shoo it with his hand. The golden wisp vanished. Brad lost his balance leaning forward, grabbing the top stair to steady himself. A bright golden circle bloomed beneath his palm. He walked past the circle, still glowing a brilliant yellow on the floor. \n\n \"Morning, daddy!\"\n\nAt the end of the hall upstairs, Sonya, a charming girl of seven, was running down the hall towards him, her full pigtails a bright, flourescent blue. She was already dressed for school.\n\n\"Morning, Sonshine!\" Brad took his daughter in his arms. He rubbed her soft hair, taking a pigtail in his hand. \"Mommy said this was supposed to wash out.\"\n\n\"No, I like it!\" Sonya pouted. \n\n\"OK, sweetheart.\" He let her go past him, watching her go to the top of the stairs; she seemed oblivious to the glowing yellow circle beneath her, but when her sneaker touched it, it vanished as quickly as it had appeared. Sonya beamed back at him, her eyes wide and her smile big. \n\n\"Race you to breakfast!\"\n\nBrad's heart sunk as she took the first hurried step. \"Sonya!\"\n\nSonya went leaping down the stairs, two at a time, her footing as sure as a billy goat. She reached the bottom in a couple harrowing seconds.\n\nBrad blinked. He followed her down the stairs, though he opted for a more careful descent. \n\nCaitlyn had made them both a big breakfast of pancakes, Sonya's favorite. Between every bite, she was humming a tune she'd probably invented in her dreams. She had such an ear for music.\n\nBrad checked his watch. 8:14. \"Bus'll be here in a minute, Sonshine. Get your bag, please\"\n\n\"And my ukelele?\"\n\n\"Sure, Sonshine.\" Brad grabbed a brown bag on the kitchen table. \"Mommy packed you a lunch, too!\"\n\nShe grabbed the brown bag, got down from her seat and grabbed her Dora the Explorer backpack. Beside it was a small guitar case, dyed the same color blue as her hair. She shoved the brown bag in her backpack and lifted her Sonya-sized guitar case.\n\nCaitlyn took Sonya's plate to the sink, talking out of Sonya's earshot. \"Watch out for the neighbor's dog. He's vicious; he came at me yesterday. Thanks for waiting outside for me.\" \n\n\"No problem; gotta keep you safe from those roamers.\"\n\n\"Have fun,\" Caitlyn called out, facing the sink!\n\n\"Let's go, Daddy!\" she said. She had a lot of energy today.\n\n\"Here we go!\" Brad walked to the door, letting his little girl go first.\n\nIt was a gorgeous fall day, and Sonya was ready for school. \"Race you to the bus stop!\"\n\n\"Not today, Sonshine, Daddy's still pretty tired - \"\n\n\"Look, daddy, a puppy!\"\n\nA wild, rabid dog was charging towards them from across the street. \"Sonya!\" Brad cried.\n\nBrad threw up his hand, and the dog stopped, dead in its tracks. Even more than that, it stopped mid-step, its teeth bared and two of its feet suspended, as if surrounded by an invisible plaster cast. \n\n\"Wow!\" Sonya exclaimed.\n\n\"How...how did that happen?\" Brad said. His eyes were as wide as his daughter's. Sonya approached the dog, petting it as its eyes looked up at it angrily. Its face was paralyzed in a voracious snarl, and it whimpered as Sonya's little hand rubbed its head. She skipped down the driveway, oblivious to the hastily averted danger.\n\nThey turned down the sidewalk, just a block from the bus stop. They had to cross the street to get to the stop. \"Look both ways,\" Brad reminded her. \n\nShe did as her father told her, then she dashed across the street. The zipper on her backpack bobbed, zipping along its course from the weight of her books. With a pop, the back pocket open and her lunch tumbled out onto the street. \n\n\"Uh oh!\" she said. She took of her backpack, turning back towards the street, her eyes focused on the toppled brown bag.\n\nA speeding car shattered the peace of the morning as it tore down the side street. It was flying down the quiet lane, barreling straight for her.\n\nBrad stepped out into the street, looked the driver in the eye. The car slowed down much faster than its brakes could manage, and the driver's eyes grew wide behind the windshield. Time slowed down, the pitch of the squealing tires getting lower and lower until the car had completely stopped at an angle, its front end sunk from the inertia of stopping. The driver's face, much like the dog's, was frozen in time, his eyes locked on Sonya in the street.\n\nSonya picked up her lunch. Brad rushed to her, grabbed her, and carried her back to her backpack on the other side. Not a moment after he grabbed her, the car unfroze from its stasis, screeching and roaring behind Brad. The car went tearing down the street, unaffected by the near-miss.\n\nBrad shook his head, as if to wake himself. Must have just seemed like I stopped it. Adrenaline. Yeah, adrenaline can do some crazy things, I hear.\n\nThe bus rounded the corner, Sonya humming away. The bus pulled up beside her, and the door opened with a hiss.\n\n\"Have...have a good day, Sonshine.\"\n\n\"Bye, Daddy!\" Without another glance, she hopped onto the bus and moved back to sit with her friends.\n\nBrad walked back to the house, his mind racing through the possibilities of the morning's strange events. Maybe it was all in his head. He got back to his house, and the dog was gone. He really might have dreamt it.\n\nHe stepped up to his front door and reached for the handle. He stopped. Q. W. R. Could it be? He'd played him at the highest level. He knew him inside and out. His work had meant success for his teammates and his country. He'd given up that life, relaxing on his winnings and raising his daughter. It had been a huge part of his life. Was it still?\n\nHe reached out his hand to the wood of the door. \"E,\" he said. \"E. E. Eeeeee.\" The door beneath his hand began to give, first like a mattress, then like paper, then like air. He walked through the air and he was inside his house.\n\nA plate shattered in the kitchen. Caitlyn was looking at him aghast, her mouth open and her face drawn.\n\nBrad smiled. \"Something's different.\"\n\n ", "HEADSHOT\n\n“What the FUCK was that?”\n\nDOUBLE KILL\n\nThe voice seemed to come out of the sky. I looked over the RPG on my shoulder at Briggs who was scanning the adjacent building’s rooftop through the sites of his M4.\n\nMUHMUHMUH MONSTER KILL KILL KILL kill kill\n\n“It’s fucking Daryl again. He must be spawn camping the enemy force. The dude was Global Elite at CS:GO. Just be thankful he’s on our side.”\n \nGODLIKE\n\nA limp body seemed to fall from the sky right between us wearing all black with a Kalashnikov over it’s shoulder. Daryl waved from the roof and disappeared again.\n\n“Fucking Fallujah, why are we back here? I’m going up.”\n\nI pointed my RPG at the ground and jumped just before firing. As I was launched into the air I moved sideways and strafed onto the nearby rooftop. I hopped and strafed from rooftop to rooftop at lightning speed. As I rounded a corner I saw the smattering of black dots on the wall and the filthy midget Oddjob off to the side. FUCKING PROXIMITY MINE SPAMMING GOLDENEYE MOTHERFU- The world exploded in a torrent of fire and everything went black. \n\nAt least I had also inherited the ability to respawn from my days as a pro Quake player.\n", "I was wrong. So wrong. So incredibly wrong. It wasn't a lucid dream, it wasn't the new prescription my psychiatrist just gave me, it was real, ALL OF IT. The explosions, the totalled property, the mangled corpses of innocent bystanders… I've given up all hope for redemption or the release of a sweet death. I'm no longer hungry, I'm no longer in pain, I'm no longer mortal. \n\nFirst it was the construction workers, they tried to help me, they were actually concerned for my health. As soon they made any physical contact, they were sent flying into the stratosphere. The police arrived shortly, amongst a sea of panic and screams, I tried to tell them to stay away, they didn't listen. Then, the military, poor bastards, their weapons didn't even scratch me, none of them stood a chance. Finally, the scientists came, they spoke of quantum voodoo, string gibberish, and other stuff I don't really remember. They used probes, sonars, and a big freaking drill. They're all dead now. \n\nThe whole city was declared a danger zone and is now completely deserted. It's been 5 years since I've seen a soul other than the helpless wild animals that wander close to me. But even they've learned to keep their distance now, wonderful and wise mother nature, if only your human childs had the awareness of the beasts for self preservation, a lot of lives would've been spared. \n\nHowever, the worst of all, the absolute horror is not the sadistic nature of what I've brought to the world, it's not out there, but in here, in my head with me. As I wait here for a miracle that would rob me of this cursed existence, trapped for all eternity, falling through the floor without actually falling, or even moving an inch for that matter, I feel its presence, growing stronger every passing minute, hacking away at my sanity. \n \nThe dreaded Goat, it wants my mind, it demands to be addressed, it knows it's not a simulation anymore.", "Fuck. \n\nThe thought crossed my mind as I once again found myself standing at the edge of the bridge, staring out at the multiple lanes of traffic in bumper to bumper rush hour beneath me. \n\nRecently I'd gotten the urge to start what could possibly be described as reckless parkour. I would run and jump in and out of traffic, dodging vehicles the whole time. Once I even jumped into a mudslide with the intention of jumping from cascading obstacle to cascading obstacle. \n\nI've got this. I jumped out into the oncoming traffic beneath me. \n\nI landed atop an oncoming semi, and without hesitating leaped again towards an adjacent truck. \n\nSuck it Darrel, you may have gotten the ability to crouch jump like a spartan from halo, but since I and I alone hold the record for Frogger, I can jump like a god." ]	13
	[WP] Using an ancient tome, you summon an "unstoppable demon of unimaginable destructive power." You then realize that, at the time the tome was written, bows and arrows were the height of military technology...	[ "I felt the power surging through my fingertips as I cast the forbidden spell. The circle of runes surrounded me and I focused on creating the link between our world and theirs.\n\nA thought crept into my mind, it disrupted my concentration. \"This magic, it's cursed!\" I heard my father say \"what have you done?!\". Father forbade me to learn the dark arts. He wanted me to be a cook just like him, but I knew I could do better, I am no cook, and I will prove it. I found ancient tomes, and practiced, I mastered the those arts over the years, but my lust for power had a price... \n\n\"This is an abomination! What will our neighbors say?! Stop that immidiatly!\" Father's voice kept going. \"I will show them all, no one will laugh at us anymore father, I am all powerful, no one can stop me!\". Father cought me trying to learn a new spell, a spell so destructive, that it could burn the victim's flesh to crisp. \"Son, you are dealing with powers beyond your understanding! I will not repeat myself, stop this ritual right now!\". I was cought in madness, intoxicated by power \"No father,\" I said \"I will be the best, and no one can prevent this, not even you!\". Father had tears in his eyes, he grabbed his knife and and whispered \"I will not allow those dark powers to consume you, I am sorry son\". I could barely see him in the darkness of the room, but I could hear his footsteps towards me, he rushed towards me with his knife over his head. Power took over me, clouded my judgement. Everything happened so fast. The darkness I summnoed to my aid hit my father and he started screaming in agonizing pain.\n\nMy father is dead. This art, that I have mastered caused me to murder him. Is it right to use it again? No! No time to consider that! Not with all those people are watching. \"This little guy? He can't do it! What a joke!\" they must be thinking to themselves. No, I swore, I swore that they'll see. They'll feel my power, THEY WILL FEAR ME! After I succseed here, no one will doubt me ever again. I am the master, no one will mock me ever again. I am no cook, this is the moment to prove it. \n\nThe crowd murmured, but I felt the link strengthening. It is complete! I felt the presence of the demon, I called him forth in my mind, and he answered my request. As the portal opened, the crowd was completly silent. I looked at the demon I have summoned, and my heart sank. This is not the demon I called! No this one is way stronger! Am I done for? The crowd gasped as the huge red figure roared. I called him to order: \"You are bound to me now, Demon!\"\n\nHe started laughing. \"TRIFLING GNOME, YOUR ARROGANCE WILL BE YOUR UNDOING! YOU FACE JARAXXUS, ERADAR LORD OF THE BURNING LEGION!\"\n\nFather was right all along. I have doomed myself. I pictured his face one last time, before the demon struck me down. But my mission is now complete, now they all know who I was, and what I was capable of. Now they all fear the master summoner, Wilfred Fizzlebang.", "Daniel was a man of unexceptional talent. Everything he had done up till this point in his life had been mediocre at best, and he was very aware of this fact. All of of his accomplishments, all of his future goals, were easily and readily able to be done by virtually any other person in the world. Well, that was his thinking, anyway. In reality, there was something remarkable about Daniel, even if he himself was not aware of it. \n\nHe walked through the small museum in the middle of winter in a tiny exhibit where some new treasures of old loaned to the museum were on display. He was alone during this visit as he was most comfortable being, at least, that was what he told himself. It must have bothered him, even slightly, for his hands never left the comfort of his pockets and he fumbled quite frequently with the scrap of paper there. His outward appearance seemed calm, but his hands would always give him away.\n\nDaniel walked through the ancient armor and weapons imagining the soldiers of the past who would have wielded them. Why did they fight? For country? For honor? For their families? Could he ever be a man like that? He balled up his fists within his pockets. Probably not. He let the surge of energy leave him and began to fumble with the paper once more. He was after all, very unexceptional.\n\nOne of the exhibits was a leather bound book opened to a random page. The caption deemed it as something linguists have yet to decipher, the language not resembling any known script. After reading this, Daniel looked at the book with curiosity. To his great surprise, he could read the letters perfectly. The tome described an unstoppable demon of unimaginable destructive power. Whole kingdoms could be wiped out by a mere wave of its hand.\n\nDaniel wondered, idly, if he had such power could he rise above his life of mediocrity? His hands stopped moving. Surely, there was not one person in the world, with a power similar to this demon. He smiled a little. Being one of a kind? Being unique? He had been resigned to his lot in life, but if there was a possibility, even a slight one, to distinguish himself...well, he just might take it, even if it was the power of a demon.\n\nHe began to read the text more intently, hoping everything he needed would be on that one page. Surprisingly, it was. He pulled out the paper that he had been playing with, it turned out to be a receipt for that coffee he had earlier, and a pen lurking in the other pocket. He began to mumble as he wrote, \"I need salt, some chalk...blood of a cloven animal? I do have some steaks defrosting...\" He cut a strange figure, writing frantically, and mumbling strange words, but most people paid him no mind. He was, after all, unremarkable.\n\nBack at his apartment, with all of the items he needed and the paper with the recipe for instant demon, he got to work. Did it seem crazy? Of course. Would it actually work? Probably not. But, Daniel was tired of being ignored, pushed to the side, of seeing himself as others did, unexceptional, unremarkable. Unstoppable. Unimaginable. Those were the words he wanted.\n\nWith everything set, Daniel put the receipt in the middle of the circle, blood drizzled around it. Originally, the actual tome was supposed to be used, but he wasn't about to steal it from the museum. He wasn't that powerful, yet. He chanted the words, in his heart there was hope. He wanted this bad, more than anything. But, nothing happened.\n\nThen, a bright light. Intense heat. A gust of wind. There before him stood the demon. It looked...kind of normal except for the clothes. It wore chain mail on its body which held...feminine curves?\n\n\"You're a girl?!\" Daniel was dumbstruck, and since he was average at best, his tact in such a situation was lacking as well.\n\nShe had no expression on her face in reaction to his outburst. She simply kneeled before him taking the sword from the sheath at her hip and presented it to him with the dignified grace of someone who knew how to use it. \"In the past, I was given the name Sheyl the Demonspawn, and before that I was Cayrn Bloodshadow, and before that I've had twenty other lives, twenty other masters each of whom, once the contract has been completed, I have killed and sent their souls to the depths. I have slain an entire army of men with my sword, toppled kingdoms with the death of a single king, and I am now under your employ until this contract is complete. Master, what name shall I be addressed as?\"\n\nStruck by the sudden question, and still reeling from the prospect of having his soul \"sent to the depths\", Daniel was in a panic. He began to sweat, his hands fumbling around in his pocket for that receipt. But it was on the floor where the demon stood. The wind had flipped it over. He saw the name of the server \"Emily\". \n\n\"Emily! You're name's Emily!\"\n\n\"It shall be as you command, Master. Now tell me, what kingdom shall fall? Who dares to stand against you? I can take on 50 trained bowmen at once, and trade blows with the best swordsmen.\"\n\n\"Bows...swordsmen?\" In Daniel's mind, he felt a slight panic. She wasn't going to be any use at all in modern warfare. Then, as he kept thinking, who would he even attack? Why did he need the destructive power of a demon from the Dark Ages? How would one swordsmen, even a demon level one, be able to stand against missiles and tanks?\n\n\"Master?\" her brow wrinkled. \n\nBut he had already made the contract. It wasn't like he could take it back. Daniel felt the beginnings of a large headache. He needed more caffeine. \"Let's talk about it over coffee.\" ", "Stanson idly brushed the Cheeto dust off his fingers before replacing his gloves. As lackadasial as he generally was about preserving these 'important' texts, he felt like this one was more impressive than the others, and he gave it a bit more respect. \n\nThe small bamboo scroll had been rather unimpressive when Stanson's office first recieved it, but after a bit of cleaning the gold leaf and metal ornamentation shined through, and the colors seemed richer, and the text more legible. Stanson had congratulated the cleaning crew, but they claimed, with uncharacteristic humility, that they hadn't done anything more than usual. Maybe the 'after' pictures just came out better than the 'before' ones.\n\nEither way, the scroll looked great as it sat on the messy desk, finally ready for Stanson's inspection and translation. \n\nHe had planned to get it this morning, but after a string of beaurocratic complications it had taken until well after everyone had left the office to get here. He was working over time for this book, so he certainly wouldn't be spending any of that time cleaning Cheeto dust off of it.\n\nFrom the photographs, the text had looked like Ancient Chinese but more primitive, composed of fewer strokes and less grace. What he could only assume was the title was nothing more than a few chicken scratches in a column. The only other person in the office was Becky, his assistant, and he called her on the intercom to get a couple reference manuals from the library downstairs.\n\nHe picked up the small text and inspected the case.\n\nThat was definitly Chinese. But, it was weird, familiar somehow. At first he thought he would need weeks to translate it, but now he thought he may not even need those references Becky was getting. The inscription around the case was almost readable, and he realized, with surprise, he could tell it had something to do with a powerful warrior, or legend.\n\nStanson chuckled. No matter how powerful the beast or warrior was that these legends described, they never seemed to tell the tale of something that could take a real bullet. Stanson was a gun nut, and he always joked with his friends that he could probably handle every one of the ancient \"terrors\" that he read about at work with nothing but his AR-15 and a box of ammo.\n\nBut based on the description, perhaps this one may be more impressive than the others. Stanson was engorssed. He carefully adjusted the light, and unrolled the scroll.\n\nAnd revealed perfectly typed American English.\n\nHe looked closer, \"What the fu-\"\n\nPower surged out of the page, paralyzing his arms and chest. He couldn't talk or breath, he couldn't even grab his phone to call Becky. Or 911.\n\nThe power nestled deep in his gut, then up into his head, clearing his mind and filling it with the text before him. His thoughts were hijacked, totally concerned with the subject of the book\n\nThe great Warrior of Vengence. A being of total power that would revisit the world and take back the land from the hordes that had stolen it.\n\nStanson's leaden arms unrolled more of the bamboo strips, independent of his will, and his mind soaked up more of the text. He learned that the Warrior of Vengence had skin like stone, bones of steal, and blood as hot as magma. As the words coursed through his brain, Stanson could feel a terrible heat grow in his torso.\n\nThe great Warrior of Vengence had the speed of a horse, the eyes of an Eagle, and the strength of twenty men. Stanson convulsed as the power grew, transforming him into an epic being, destined to exact revenge thousands of years old.\n\nHe didn't even have to read the rest; he knew his power. He would brush off the swords of his enemies like feathers. Arrows would be like gnats. He could scale any wall, run through any desert, and destroy an army of ten thousand men.\n\nHis head brushed the ceiling as the transformation continued, as his arms grew into massive trunks of strength and his bones and skin hardend like armor.\n\nStanson was gone, his body and soul taken over by the Warrior of Vengence.\n\nIt turned to leave the room, and saw Becky at the end of the hall, a dozen yards away, frozen with a pot of coffee in one hand and stack of papers in the other.\n\n'\"ohmyword.\" She said in a small voice.\n\nThe Warrior of Vengence regarded her for a second, rapidly assessing the context of this encounter, her unthreatening, pudgy appearence, and it's own growing strength. \n\nBecky regarded the Warrior for a second, rapidly assessing the context of this encounter, the giant thing's threatening, mechanical appearence, and her own extremely limited strength.\n\nAnd the .357 she had under her blazer in a shoulder holster.\n\nThe went for their weapons at the same time. \n\nIn a flash, the Warrior of Vengence grabbed an antique Dao hanging above Stanson's desk, and whipped around to face its adversary just as Becky got the pistol out of her jacket.\n\nIt took two seconds for the Warrior to halve the distance between them as Becky brought her personal defense weapon to bear, and she loosed a round directly into its right shoulder.\n\nThe Dao barely twitched even as the round dislodged a pound of pseudo-metalic flesh. Another one ripped apart the Warrior's collarbone, but momentum had already carried it far enough.\n\nThe Dao, for the first time in millenia, tasted blood as it whipped across Becky's left arm.\n\nShe managed to pull off one more shot. The Warrior's head disappeared.\n\nThey fell to the ground in unison, Becky screaming as she clutched her damaged appendage, and the Warrior clicking loadly as it sprayed hot metal blood across the floor. It twitched and whirled widly for several seconds, blindly striking the ground with enough force to rip up the carpet and crack the floor beneath. But, eventually, it stilled. The Warrior of Vengence was no more.", "I turned the pages of the palimpsest carefully and furtively in the light of my desk lamp. This recent shipment of codices were found in Lebanon a few years ago, though obviously bureaucracy being what it is, it had been brought to our lab for study last week. The preservation was astounding. Officially, our lab would be analyzing this shipment starting tomorrow morning, but I had waited years to see these texts, and a single night's impropriety wouldn't ultimately matter much.\n\nOnly one text had thus far been opened, a treatise on botany by an Islamic scholar from the court of Saladin. It wasn't the treatise that interested me so much as images of the faint writing lying beneath it, hints of the texts from which the book had been made. It was Aramaic, but not the Western Aramaic of the Hebrew Bible or the Syriac that might be expected of its time. It was an old, Eastern dialect unlike any from the 12th century, and distinct from any dialect I had seen in my career. And on two pages, Akkadian. Cuneiform. That it would be written on paper and not impressed on clay tablets was strange in and of itself, but again, hints of an ancient and previously unknown dialect made these books an unprecedented find.\n\nI peered through halfhearted botanical illustrations and descriptions from a somewhat uninspired hand into the underlying texts. Arabic, Syriac, Hebrew. These books would make a career to be sure, but these languages weren't what I was seeking. I turned page after page trying to find some trace of the writing I had seen in those images.\n\nAt 3:45 a.m., I found what I was seeking.\n\nThe writing was Aramaic, the same dialect I had seen in those images, and written by the same hand. Snippets of understanding were there. I recognized \"battle\", \"fire\", and \"army\". Then \"annihilation\" or \"total destruction\", \"siege\", and \"multiply\".\n\nI reached to the book, against my better judgment touching the ancient text. A sudden impulse seized me. My hand traveled to the edge of the page and rifled down several pages. Akkadian. The words sat beneath an image of a red flower. I read the text with no seeming difficulty. An invocation to Hadad, god of storms and rain. A call for his intercession to destroy an enemy. A curse.\n\nIt was only after the first several lines of text that I noticed I was speaking. Not sounding out the text in English as I often do or using a reconstructed phonology. I was speaking Akkadian. I began to feel a sense of dread. I willed myself to stop, but the curse was drawn from me. Words in a language I didn't recognize poured from my lips as I stood under the thrall of the page in front of me. A cold washed down from my throat through my shoulders, following the path of blood through my chest, my arms, to my fingertips now pressing harder against the page. My vision darkened, reddened, became something other. I convulsed. I felt a consciousness pass through me, a sense of being other than my own. A flash of thought, of motivation, of memory and foresight.\n\nThe last words poured from me, and with that I fell to the floor. I stared blankly at the ceiling, unable to move or speak, and that is how I remain. I want to speak. I want to tell them why the war is failing. I want this to be more than an imagined memoir, a narrative in my head.\n\nIn the thoughts of this alien consciousness I saw the destruction befall the cities of Mesopotamia, a black cloud rolling into the valleys and the torrential rain that followed. From the earth I saw the golems rise, warriors of dust and stone and mud. I saw great warriors fall to their advances, arrows and shields defenseless to them. Then I saw stones flung from city walls, fire, anything that could be imagined. For each golem destroyed, more would rise from the dust where it fell. Not until the golems had laid siege to those cities did they stop. Inside, men, women, and children starved, fell to disease, and went insane. Not until 1/10th of the cities population had died to the siege did the golems return to the dust. Not until the population had put down their weapons and allowed attrition to take their youngest and most vulnerable did the curse abate.\n\nI hear parts of the news even in my immobile state. I heard they started in the same place, modern-day Iraq. As they advanced, we killed more and more. Their numbers increased exponentially. They overran cities, murdered entire towns in an orgy of mindless destruction. As bombs began to drop and new countries joined the fray, they spread farther and farther. Today, the leaders of the United States, Russia, China, and the UK announced they have all agreed to the nuclear option. India, Pakistan, and Israel have fallen. A carpet of 15 megaton weapons will be detonated, sending irradiated dust into the stratosphere, where it will be dispersed to the entire globe and rain down on us for decades. I can't tell them we're all going to die. I can't tell them it's my fault.", "Officer Planquin climbed out of his squad car. The house in front of him was ablaze with purple fire. On the roof stood a huge horned creature, its eyes glowing red as it roared at him.\n\nBeing the first responder, Planquin retrieved his shotgun from the squad car. Feeling foolish, he fired at the demon.\n\nThe demon exploded in gore, its upper body barely functioning. Its legs flickered with a grid of blue light.\n\nPlanquin fired again.\n\nThe demon flew to bits in the supersonic blast of lead. Planquin watched in confusion as small glowing squares dropped from its dead body. Some were blue, others orange. An orange one fell onto his gun and he felt the chamber cycle a new round in by itself.\n\n\"What in hell...?\" he said." ]	5
	[WP] An autobiography of an immortal person.	[ "Date: year 994526 (there are no days, so I don't really know the year for sure)\n\nEmptiness feels strange on my lungs. My muscles keep trying to pull in air, resulting in a heavy pain in my chest, as my lungs implode again and again and again and again. There's no air to pull, so my tissues are ripped up into my throat. I've gotten used to the feeling. It happens once every few seconds, from what I can tell, and helps me tell time in this void. \n\nAs my lungs implode, the rest of my body feels as if it might explode. I feel as if I'm being drawn out of myself, the lack of pressure pulling me in every direction at once. Oddly, this hurts less than my lungs.\n\nOccasionally, I believe I develop amnesia. It may be from my brain's lack of oxygen, or from the organ exploding occasionally.\n\nIt's been a few hundred thousand 'breaths' since the Earth died. It wasn't the sun, in the end, but a chunk of ice the size of China. Not the China I knew before Earth-death, but the one from when I was human. The smaller one. The worst part is that they knew it was coming: years in advance, too. They saw it a lightyear away, but they kept procrastinating. Some didn't even believe it existed. Funding was hard to find. In the last year, the tides were all-encompassing. The shadow of the ice carved a path of darkness and death roughly around Earth's middle. The world went cold, then we lost food. Medicine. Many died before the Earth died itself. The rich and the brilliant were sent off in a private project to live on the Station orbiting Mars. Pity they have to overlook the ruined Hell of our terraformed failure. \n\nA couple hundred 'breaths' ago, I passed Mars. I don't have control, I just float. On passing Mars, I saw the station. Like the planet itself, it was destroyed. I don't think anyone survived.\n\nI stopped believing in God a few thousand years ago, but I've begun praying again. Not for death. That happens every few moments. I pray to find life. Nothing really changes out here. Living creatures are my Gods now.\n\nIt's amazing how something all-encompassing and gargantuan like space can be so dull. The Living change, though. They grow. They bloom. Small as they are, they're the reason I've been able to cope with immortality. \n\nI've never prayed for aliens, before. \n\n ", "This is dedicated to anyone contemplating to take the same path as I did.\n\nI know what you are thinking.\n\n\"Ooh, I'll be able to accomplish so much.\"\n\n\"Ooh, I'll have so much power.\"\n\nYou think you're going to change the world for the better, while putting\nyourself at the top. Well, I've got news for you, buddy. That's not how it works.\n\nYou're thinking about this as a mortal man. You have no idea how becoming\nimmortal changes your ideas. None of these things will matter to you anymore.\n\nIt won't happen immediately. But it will. Think about it. Right now, you\nprobably struggling to find the motivation to do something important. \"I'll do\nit tomorrow\", you think. Well, guess what! How do you think this will change if\nyou don't even have the cold hard deadline of death anymore?\n\nWhen I became an invincible immortal, my main goal was to become the master of\nmy craft. I would have all the time to reach that goal, infinitely more than my\nmortal counterparts. However, what I didn't think about at the time is that\nmastering something takes two things, time and determination. And I had just\ntraded any of the determination I had left for time.\n\nIn the beginning, I liked it. For much of my life up until that point I had\nspent as a workaholic. I felt that the immortality gave me a chance to take\nsome time off and enjoy life. I traveled a lot, I visited the most beautiful\nbeaches, climbed the most breathtaking mountains, and learned from pretty much\nany culture out there. But these things get old, because the thought of living\nendlessly had stripped my of any purpose I had. Why would I change the world if\nthe end result stayed the same for me? Eventually everybody dies and I'm left\nalone.\n\nNow I think I have found a purpose again. And that purpose is to make you\nrealize the value of your life. To help you give meaning to it.\n\nThink about your life. Sure you will die just like everyone else. But what\nyou have is unique to you.\n\nYou have a limited amount of time to make the best of it. Your actions,\nhowever, could influence many lives, now and still to come. Look around you,\nyou are being influenced by many others right now.\n\nPeople build chairs, governments, schools, televisions, parks, space ships, the\nlist goes on. Wouldn't you like to be part of that? To dedicate your life to\nsomething, and change somebody's life, even if it's only in the slightest\nsense.\n\nI have two pieces of advice I want to leave you with today.\n\nThe first is: don't be a perfectionist. Perfectionists think in black and\nwhite. Their unrealistic expectations guarantee that you'll never be\nsatisfied. No matter how successful these people are, it will never be enough.\nEnjoy the success you have, no matter how small, and don't get to carried away\nby failure. It's OK to fail.\n\nThe second advice is: have some balance in life. It's OK to dedicate yourself\nto a craft, but don't bend your mind until you can't do anything else anymore.\nEnjoy the variety of life, don't spend it all in one place.\n\nAnd with that I leave you for today.\n\nMurdock, out!", "Chapter: Year 3929 of my life (2015 AD)\n\nThis year went fine. Seems like just yesterday it was 1999 and everyone was concerned about the rapper Y2K. Or was that what they called the \"terrorist attack\"? That was a bad idea on my part... pranks just aren't the same anymore. \n\nAnyway, right, year 3929... \n\nMajor accomplishments:\n\n- I now have Pi memorized to the 4,851 digit. I just feel this will be needed someday.\n\n- Finally got upgraded to first class on an airline. Man, that is amazing! The seats recline ALL THE WAY; who invented that and why doesn't he have a gallery?\n\nNotable moments and thoughts:\n\n- Buried ex-wives 403, 413 and 424. Swore off marriage again. Can't believe it's nearing 450 wives and all of the can't bear me an immortal child! Maybe I should get myself checked? I'll think about it if I get to 500 and nothing. \n\n- I'm still having a hard time finding my own quiet retirement realm to rule. After I had to reset Chernobyl, I'm afraid of anyplace with widespread socialist media like twatter (chitter?). Maybe I could try another Amish community - 3rd time's the charm they say nowadays.\n\nPlan for next year:\n\n- This will be the year I work out! I promise! \nside note: when war stopped involving the gauging of eyeballs... I just got bored and without the constant fighting, it's soooo hard to stay in shape. I can barely keep up with the shoo-bop dancing nowadays.\n\n- Don't lose hope. There's a place for me on this world and I will find it. Maybe I'll run for president of the USA. Trump is, and I'm at least as good looking as him.\n\nAs always, praise Xenu - (I can't believe it took them this long to find the real lord...)" ]	3
	[WP] An assassin tried to gun you down on your wedding day, but your spouse came to your rescue, slicing the bullets out of the air with... a lightsaber? It's the morning after and you decide to talk about the bright red blade.	[ "(This probably wasn't what you meant, but I wrote this as taking place in the star wars universe)\n\nSunlight streamed through the sheer curtains of our honeymoon getaway, and a gentle breeze brushed against my face. I couldn't feel my fian- no, my husband's weight on the bed beside me. Before opening my eyes, I recalled what had happened the day before. \n\nShortly after the marriage officiant pronounced us husband and wife, and we were walking back down the isle to head inside for the reception, I saw a a glint of light off the roof of the building. I think my husband must've noticed it too about then. A second later, he quickly reached under the folds of his wedding cloak and grabbed on to something. I closed my eyes to shield them from the reflecting light. Then there was a gunshot, then another, and a bizarre sound like some kind of machine coming to life, and my husband used his off hand to push me back. I opened my eyes and saw something even brighter and red just a couple feet from my face, softly humming with energy.\n\nI'd never seen one in person before, but I recognized it immediately. It was a lightsaber. A red lightsaber. And my husband was holding it. He deactivated the blade, and I looked at the ground as my eyes recovered from the harsh light. I saw something metallic on the path in front of me, and realized that what I was looking at were bullets that'd been sliced in half. \n\nMy father then took me by the shoulder and rushed me inside while my husband ran off and jumped 3 stories onto the roof of the building. The reception was canceled, and eventually my husband returned. We left the wedding shortly after that, barely saying a word. \n\nOur trip to the cabin completely silent. We didn't speak during dinner. And we went to bed after sunset, each facing the other way and not touching each other.\n\nAnd now it was morning. I rolled onto my back and slowly opened my eyes, blinking until the canopy over the bed came into focus. I turned my head towards my husband's side of the bed, and saw that it was indeed empty. Instead, he stood in front of the window, shirtless, behind the white gossamer curtains , staring out onto the empty beach outside. Something seemed different. He looked... angry almost, clenching his fists at his side. His toned body had a different meaning to me now. I sat up.\n\n\"Kyle?\" I called out. He stiffened, but didn't respond. \"Honey?\"\n\n\"...Alexis,\" he replied. \"Did you sleep well?\"\n\nI stood up out of bed and slowly walked around the bed, towards him. \"Alright, I suppose.\"\n\n\"...that's good.\"\n\nThere was a moment of silence. I was almost afraid to ask, but i knew I had to. \"Kyle... what... what aren't you telling me?\"\n\n\"About what?\"\n\n\"About the lightsaber? The assasin?\"\n\nHe placed his hand on the glass and looked down, staying silent.\n\n\"Kyle, are you-\"\n\n\"No. Whatever you are about to say I'm not. Not anymore. Not a Jedi, or Sith, anything. I left that all behind me a long time ago.\"\n\n\"Why didn't you tell me?\"\n\n\"I was ashamed. I didn't want you to think of me like that.\"\n\nI stepped closer and pressed myself against his back, wrapping my arms around his chest, laying my head on his back and listening to his heartbeat.\n\n\"What happened before doesn't change who you are now. But I do want you to be honest with me. That's what marriage is. We're one now.\"\n\n\"Alexis...\" He took one of my hands and kissed it, holding it there for a moment. \"Ok. I'll tell you everything.\"", "I lift my head but quickly throw it back against the pillow. I’m overcome by queasiness and a pounding headache. What time is it? I look towards the window. The sunlight shooting through the blinders stings my eyes. \n\nThere she is, glowing in the haze of morning light. My new bride. She looks like the innocent angel I’ve dated for the past six years. Was that a dream? Did someone actually try to kill me and did she actually block it with a red lightsaber? No, no. I must have had way too much to drink at the reception. It was just a wicked dream. \n\nHer eyes open abruptly. Her grey pupils narrow, and she’s staring at me without blinking. I feel my grin growing. “Good morning, Baby,” I say softly. “I had the craziest dream last night.” She lifts herself onto her forearms, causing her raven black hair to fall behind her naked shoulders. \n\n“In the dream, you were helping me back to our hotel room after the reception. As we turned down the final hallway to our room, there was a guy with a brown robe standing there. The guy pulled out a pistol. Just as he pulled the trigger, you whipped out a red lightsaber - you know like Star Wars - and you blocked the bullet. Then, the guy ran away. What do you think that means? I mean it seemed so real.” \n\n“It was real, Jack,” she says as she gets out of the bed. \n\n“What?” I feel the throbbing of my heart beginning to beat rapidly. \n\nShe turns her head to look at me. \n\n“I said it was real, Jack. I’ve been waiting for you to wake up so - ” \n\n“Wait. Jenny. Baby. That wasn’t real. I was just telling you about my dream” \n\n“Jack.” She looks at me deadpan, an icy facial expression I’ve never seen before. “My name isn’t Jenny. Look, this is going to be hard for you to understand. I thought I could hide you from this but they tried to get to me through you, and I -” \n\n“Oh, I get it. Did Bill put you up to this? ” I ask rhetorically with a chuckle. “Ok, ok. I’ll play the X-Wing pilot, and you’re the Sith abductor who’s taken me to her lair to torture me for the rebel plans.” She furrows her eyebrows, lifts her left arm, and a lightsaber flies across the room. “Holy, fuck!” I scream as I jump out of bed. Realizing I’m naked and that my new wife isn’t who I thought she was, I use both my hands to cover my junk. “Jenny, how did you do that?” \n\n“I told you my name is not Jenny!” She lets out with a huff. “My name is Darth Ipsum. Well . . . it was Darth Ipsum. It’s hard to explain. All you need to know right now is that last night we were attacked by a rebel assassin. I’ve been waiting for you to sober up so we can get out of here.” \n\n“Rebel? Like Star Wars Rebel?” \n\n“Yes.” I see Jenny putting on a set of glossy, black leather clothes that I’ve never seen her wear before. \n\n“No, Star Wars is just a movie!” \n\n“You really think George Lucas came up with all of that? Star Wars is propaganda! The rebels planted that story because the war is coming to this planet. Look, Jack, I need you to put on some clothes so we can –“ \n\nAs if I haven't interrupted her enough, a loud bang rings throughout the room and the front door to our hotel room soars towards Jenny. \n______\n\nTo be continued if there's interest in more. \n" ]	2
	[WP] You own 7 dogs. You are beginning to suspect they represent the seven deadly sins...	[ "\"oh my god, won't that dammed dog ever shut up!\"\n\n\"maybe if we just ignore her she will go to sleep again an leave us be\"\n\n\"For god's sake Jerry, its 2am, she is not going back to sleep until she gets her 2am feed and you know it!\"\n\nJerry looked like a man who had been woken at 2am every morning for the last 4 years in order to feed a very, very, hungry dog; which for the purpose of this story is a very convenient coincidence, as that is exactly the situation Jerry and Amy find themselves in. \n\nWith the same groan he groaned every day, Jerry rolled out of bed and shuffled downstairs to feed Ginny, their insatiable Pomeranian.\n\n\"I swear you eat more than your bloody body weight in a sitting, if I had your metabolism I would never have to work out after pizza Sunday\" he muttered, wishing nothing more than to get back to his nice comfy bed as soon as possible and drift back to blissful sleep.\n\nIt was always Jerry who fed Ginny in the night, Amy had her hands full being at home with their Daughter Lucy all day, not to mention the chaos that a house with 7 dogs brings about. Jerry got some sweet release on the drive to and from work, for 2 glorious half hours, he was alone and peaceful. \n\nGinny wolfed down her usual large bowl of dry food, they had given up on the more expensive caned wet food months ago, she would eat 2 cans in a sitting and they had struggled to match supply and demand. A quick google had however turned up a company that supplied dog shelters and could deliver a half tonne of budget doggie chow for a knock down price, and she didn't seem to care what the food was, as long as it was there and plentiful. \n\nFleetingly satisfied, the tiny puff ball waddled over to her adopted brothers and sisters and thankfully fell asleep. She would wake again, ravenous, in about three hours, but by that time Jerry was in the car, and she was Amy's problem.\n\nJerry began to ascend back to the bedroom when suddenly there was a sharp squeak and with all the resolve a half asleep, half dead man could muster, he turned to see that Lucas had also woken and seemed very intent on having his way with penny, the French bulldog had a bit of a thing for the poodle, and to be honest she didn’t seem inclined to rebuff his advances. Penny was always the first one to run to the door and stand at attention for a clap when you arrived home, but once she had her praise she was away, looking for her newest fan. More often than not that fan came in the form of the eternally frisky Lucas, bounding through the house mounting anything he possibly could. \n\nOn this occasion though Lucas had made the mistake of clambering over waffles, the Old English sheepdog, to get to his conquest. Waffles, annoyed at being woken (with every right to be in Jerry’s opinion) had, perhaps, let his anger get the better of him and had made a solid attempt at removing certain... key equipment from Lucas’ body in order to put an end to his days as a philandering bachelor. Of course he came up empty mouthed, the first thing Jerry had done when Lucas started acting up was get him the snip, but for some reason it made not one bit of difference, the vets were stumped, pet psychologists were clueless and they had just accepted that this was the way it was going to be, and they had to keep a good stock of paper towels on hand. \n\nLucas, having barely even realized how close he had come to revisiting what must have been at least an unpleasant procedure, had reached Penny and was very busy indeed, it took a moment for Jerry to realise that it in his haste, and Penny’s indifference, they had started their intimate time right on top of Sam, the St Bernard. In normal circumstance Jerry would have been forced to get involved and separate the two star crossed lovers, but fortunately for Jerry, it was unlikely Sam would notice the cataclysmic end of the entire planet once he was sleeping, and Sam was a big fan of sleeping. Morning nap, afternoon nap, quick nap before dinner, quick nap after dinner, evening nap, then after a hard day’s work he would pass out barely after sundown and be completely unresponsive until the morning.\nOn the subject of unresponsive till morning Jerry started once more to make his weary way to bed. This time he made it all the way up the stairs and decided to stop by Lucy’s room to ensure that she had not been woken by the scramble downstairs. He pushed open the door to her room and saw that she was still tucked up in bed where he had left her after he told her a story and turned on her nightlight. She was sleeping so peacefully, she was never woken by the dogs, the seemed to mellow around her, as if there were some unspoken rule that they not bother her. It was a strange as at first her arrival into the house had seemed to unsettle the dogs. People had warned them about that of course, the dogs had a hierarchy and Lucy would interrupt that, but the virtue of them showering her with attention we would have upset the pack dynamics that our little brood had established. They did seem to kick back a little at the time, and none of them had gone back to exactly how they were before, George and Ezra, two Huskys who were from the same litter, were in constant battle since she had arrived, if there was a toy or a treat in the house, George had to have it, and if George had to have it, Ezra had to have it even more. Jerry and Amy suspected that this was a way for them to get attention from them now that Lucy had come along, same with Lucas looking for attention from the female dogs in the pack, or Penny constantly seeking approval. It hadn’t all been smooth sailing to be fair, they used to have a greyhound, Gabe, he had been a lovely dog, dead peaceful and always good with children, but for some reason he never took to Lucy. He was constantly barking, occasionally even snarling at her and never seemed comfortable around the other dogs after she came along either. It was the day Lucy had learned her first word, which, in keeping with her playful nature, was of course, ball (although she did struggle with “b” and “f” sometimes and they sounded very similar, which was adorable). As soon as she said it of course Amy was cooing over her, getting her phone out to video and trying to coax the word out of her again, she had been about to take the bins out and had left the front door open. Next thing she knew there was a screech of tires and poor Gabe was gone. The driver said he had come out of nowhere, just ran into the middle of the road. It was no-ones fault of course, just a sad, horrible accident.\n“Anyway” Jerry muttered to himself, “I’m shattered, I can get a few hours more kip before I have to get up for work”. He shuffled back to his room, lay down, and was probably asleep before his eyes had even properly closed.\n\n\nEDIT Formatting changes and a spelling fix" ]	1
	[WP] A group of teens find a map that will lead them to friendship, only to find out that the real treasure is hidden pirate gold.	[ "Whoah, Jack says as he, Claire, and Evan stumble into the ancient chamber. Claire's eyes are wide and her mouth is agape as Evan makes his way towards the huge pile of gold. Clinking sounds fill the room as old Spanish coins fall down the pile after finally being disturbed since almost two thousand years of peace. Evan smiles as he lets the gold dust trickle in between his fingers. Looks like we found it, Evan says eagerly. You bet, Jack replies. Claire folds her arms and leans against the cold, stone wall. I can't believe this, she says. My grandfather's map, was real! Jack picks up a big bar of gold. I can't believe we found all of this butter, he says. Evan glares at him. What did you call it? Evan asks Jack. This isn't butter! It's gold! Claire exclaims. Jack laughs, it's gold, square, and long, just like butter. Evan shakes his head, that's ridiculous! Evan says. Why would you even call it that? Claire asks. I can buy butter from the store for two dollars, but this... gold is worth a thousand dollars a pound! Jack smiles at Claire. Well, let's pack it up, then. He orders. It may be heavy in your back pack but you'll have get used to it for our way back.\n\nJack, Claire, and Evan did make it back with the gold. They brought it to their local pawn shop where an expert, who knew more about the topic, gave them a fair price for their product.", "I'll TLDR a story without actually writing one. \n\nFriends aren't getting along, stranger gives them a map to friendship. On the journey everyone becomes friends again, even best friends. Find treasure is pirate gold. Everyone betrays one another in a bloodbath of greed. One boy survives, takes and hides treasure, and makes it seem like all his friends died from falling rocks. Kid gets away with it but is tormented by guilt and kills himself. The stranger finds the treasure but leaves it and creates a new map and gives it to another group of struggling friends. Same thing plays out over and over.\n\nThe end.", "\"What kind of horse crap is this?\" Otis was furious, cooked lobster red with a side of parsley. It would have been adorable if he wasn't on the verge of snapping. He was at the bottom of the hole, shovel laying on it's side. \n\n\nAll is for naught.\n\n\nA single message to end the entire journey. A chest of gold with a written note. Thick ink, smeared with the hatred of a pirate captain, foretelling that this gold was not cursed with any supernatural power, but the simple token of greed.\n\n\n\"No, that can't be it. I'm looking too far into this.\"\n\n\n\"Into what?\" A voice from above yelled. Otis drew the short stick, so he was the only one in the whole while his friends were chewing on protein bars. \"What do you see? Is it a mirror?\"\n\n\nOtis heard laughter. A genuine hearty chortle from Brad, a snicker from Drew. Of course they were minted, they wouldn't care. He didn't know how to respond.\n\n\n\"It's something else!\" This answer would stall them enough. Perhaps even draw them to the attention that he had been digging for the last two hours by himself. So much for friends. He caught himself there. He had known them since kindergarten, known them through the halcyon days of high school. This was supposed to be their graduation trip.\n\n\nThis was supposed to be fun.\n\n\nBrad was going straight into medicine, become a neurology specialist. Drew wanted to become a lawyer, arbitration specialist. Leo was going into business, as his father's accountant, then planned to become a certified accountant. They all had the backing of their parents, a full ride paid for with scholarships, funds and cars. Big money where they were going. Leaving the state, saying their goodbyes and everything.\n\n\nOtis only had his apprenticeship at his cousin's garage. \n\n\nThe sun was directly above now, reflecting a shimmer of potential. He grabbed the shovel. He made his move and climbed up the hole.\n\n\nDrew, helping him stumble out of the hole smiled. \"So? What did the map show us?\"\n\n\nPulling out three gold coins, he displayed the loot. \"Shiny, isn't it?\"\n\n\nBrad supplied a question. \"Where's the fourth one?\" \n\n\nShrugging, Otis threw onto the ground two of the coins. \"I only found three. Spent two hours trying to find the last one.\"\n\n\nThe others glanced at each other before assaulting the last two. Fighting and struggling for the last one, the others grew frustrated. \n\n\nOtis stepped back and commentated, throwing gas onto the fire. \n\n\nThis was supposed to be their graduation trip. It was supposed to be fun. After digging for two hours while the others rested, ate their fill and drank beer, this was fun.\n\n\nJust not for them. ", "\"Let's do this ! FOR FRIENDSHIP!!!\", bellowed Cort. \"Fuck Yea! Friends 4 Eva\", chimed in Mmanny. \" Yup Yup\", chimed in Yin. Solving the final puzzle on the final door to the final promised prize, the eager boys stepped through the door.\n\nA most wonderfu sight greeted their eyes. Gold. Thousands of items of gold. Innumerable number of gold coins interspersed in between.\n\nThe boys just stared, bug-eyed and speechless, for what seemed like a long time, though in reality it was only probably a couple of seconds. Yin was the first to come around. He ran straight towards the nearest pile of gold and jumped into it. \" GOLD, OH MY GOD GOLD. I'M RICH. HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA\", he screamed and threw fistfuls of gold hither-tither. Cort and MManny, shaken by their comrade's sudden change in demeanor stammered,\"But Yin, whatever happened to Friendship... That's what we were promised right ?\" \n\nYin looked at them with different eyes, as if these were the eyes he had all along.\"Friendship? who gives a fuck about friendship. We can now afford to BUY all our friends. God damn it, as much as i hate to admit it, i couldn't have gotten here without you.Take your share of the damn gold before i go crazy and stab the shit out of you.\"\n\nSomewhat disconcerted, the Cort and MManny tip-toed forward to the nearest gold pile and picked up a coin and a goblet each.\"But can we not share this gold with everyone?\", MManny spoke timidly, \" I mean what will we do with so much gold? We should keep everyone's well-being in mind\". Yin gave MManny the stink eye and spat out \" you can share your take of the gold with who ever the fuck you want\".\"But Yin....\" Cort contiued.\n\n\nAt that moment, the floor rumbled and a wall crumbled away, revealing something sinister.\n\nA single laser shot out from the huge metallic constructs eye, vaporizing Cort before he even realized what the hell had happened.\"FUCK\" screamed Yin. \"Communists detected on American soil\". Yin realized too late that the first few initials of each of the 3 friends names spelled out commy. The robot protector fired a second shot at Yin, who had ducked into his pile of gold. The gold melted due to the superhot laser and Yin died a horrifying and unfortunate death.\n\nThe robot stepped out and directed it's laser at MManny.\"Embrace democracy or you will be annihilated\".Cort remembered his history lesson a week prior in which his teacher has discussed about democracy and their government. Unfortunately, he had slept through most of it.\" I.... I dunno....\" was all he could say before the robot stepped on him creating a fleshy pancake.\"Primary target:Any and all red chinese invaders\".\n\nMoral: Just take the damn gold and fuck friendship as a goal.\n", "Greg kept thinking about the moment their journey reached its conclusion while the wind assisted them sailing home.\n\n...\n\n\n\"What is this shit?!\" Timmy said.\n\n\"It's gold, and it appears to be worth a fortune\", Gwen answered him.\n\n\"But I thought this journey was about our friendship? How are we even supposed to get home now that our ship crashed?\" Timmy looked frantically at their leader Greg.\n\nGreg was calm, and had a glint in his eye; \"Don't worry, guys. I have a plan\".\n\n...\n\n\nNow Greg was thankful for Timmy and Gwen's larger sizes, his friend-ship was large enough to carry him, and all the gold.", "Mikey and his friends have always wanted to go on an adventure. One night they are all in Mikey's attic and Mikey stumbles across an old map. Mikey has always wanted to know if One-eyed Willy ever was a real person and now he might. They set off and later realize that they have to go through the evil Mama Fratelli's restaurant to get to a secret passage to the caves. As they try to get into the caves Mama Fratelli catches Chuck and he is left behind. He then meets Sloth one of Mama Fratelli's sons with a messed up face. He befriends Sloth. Meanwhile Mama Fratelli and her sons are trying to get to the treasure too. Will the kids make it there before Mama Fratelli does? Will Chuck ever get out of her basement?", "The massive chamber opened up wide and hungry before the three children. The glow of their single torch did little to keep the darkness at bay. The cavern walls spread out of sight in either direction. The room was a void and the only sound from the vantablack dark was the quiet whistling of subterranean winds. Nathan, Indy, and Lara stood side by side staring into the seemingly infinite abyss. \n\n\"Should we keep going?\" Lara asked sheepishly. The darkness seemed to swallow her voice. \n\n\"Is that even a question?\" Nathan hissed back. He held the torch and as he spoke he swung it's orange flame in her direction. Lara cowered slightly. Blood stained her upper arm and shoulder from where a booby-trap had cut her. Her face was splotchy and dirt-stained, and her gray tank-top held a tear over her abdomen. She looked rough, but so did Nathan and Indy. \n\n\"Back off Nate, she's just scared.\" Indy cut in, stepping between the two. Blood coagulated on his forehead from where the crawling bones had raked him. After a moment he added, \"We're all scared after...\" His voice trailed off into the black.\n\n\"You don't need to tell me that Indiana.\" Nathan hissed again. He looked furiously at the two. \"We're so close I can feel it!\" Obsession took hold of his gaze. Lara and Indy watched nervously, fire reflecting in his eyes, as he recalled a short poem. \n\nNathan spoke, \"Past the twin stones, and the faceless pip, over the crawling bones, you'll find friendship.\" \n\nNathan fished around in his satchel for a moment, producing a small square of parchment. It was the map the others knew. Folded over twice, the delicate relic held the secrets they have long since sought. Nathan flattened the map over a protruding stone from the cavern wall. He held his torch close for light. All three leaned in to look. \n\nThe map held detailed instructions of how to reach the most hallowed of treasures, friendship. On the surface the average person hated everyone and anyone. Friendship was a mythical treasure that was said to create lifelong bonds between others. Bonds that would be unbroken by time or geography. The three explorers all hated each other, that was certain, but they had decided to put down their animosity aside for a time in order to find their prize. They were civil for the most part. Sadly, since none of them had experienced such a fascinating phenomenon, all three knew nothing of what such a treasure might look like. \n\nNathan pointed at a point on the map. \"Here.\" He said quietly as if someone else was listening, \"This must be the treasure chamber.\"\n\n\"How can you be sure?\" Lara pressed.\n\nIndy replied, \"Because look, the map shows the bone room here, just behind us.\" They all three shivered from the memory of the room of crawling bones. \"Nathan's right this has to be it.\" \n\n\"Ok, we should look around then.\" Lara said. She took several deep breaths to strengthen her resolve. The others nodded in agreement. Nathan quickly stuffed the map in his bag and the three set off into the vast darkness.\n\nThe chamber was massive. It spanned out for what seemed like infinity before them. It didn't take long before the darkness enveloped them and the only visible surface was the limestone floor. After what felt like hours of walking in the inky black, Indy caught himself mid-step. \n\n\"What is that?\" He asked warily.\n\n\"What is what?\" Nathan shot back. \n\n\"That! Right there!\" Indy pointed into the dark. \n\n\"I see it.\" Lara said her mouth open in wonder.\n\n\"Could it be...\" Nathan trailed off. Ahead, forming out of the darkness was a large bowl. About the three feet in diameter it was supported upon a carved stalagmite. On its surface were a dozens of mysterious symbols. Instinctively, Nathan lowered his torch over the basin to get a better look. Almost instantly the bowl erupted in bright yellow flame. Nathan stumbled backwards and fell on his rump. The light nearly blinded the three. \n\n\"Is this it?\" Indy said with excitement, \"Is this friendship?\" \n\n\"No, look!\" Lara said. She pointed to the ground around the bowl. Small rivulets had been etched in the stone floor. The flame from the bowl followed the rivulets, arching off into the darkness. In another moment two more flames had erupted, then two more, until a ring of basins shine bright before them. In the middle of the ring sat a chest, a laughing skeleton was hunkered up against it. Curiosity propelled the three towards the treasure. \n\n\"Wait!\" Nathan said suddenly as they reached their prize, \"What if it's another trap.\"\n\n\"Oh I don't care anymore.\" Indy replied, his eyes locked on the chest. \"Look here, it says 'friendship.' We found it!\" \n\nIndeed, upon the surface of the chest was etched the word friendship. Lara squeezed between the two and approached the chest. Slowly, she tried to lift the lid, but it was too heavy. The others quickly stepped in to help. Together they lifted the lip and tossed if over the side. It's contents glittered in the light. They stared at it in awe.\n\nThe chest was filled to the brim with gold. Gold coins, necklaces, plates, and dining ware, diamonds, sapphires, jade totems, emeralds, rubies, and quartz of every color. Wealth beyond their wildest imaginations. \n\n\"It's...\" Nathan began speechless. \"It's only... It's only treasure.\" \n\n\"I don't understand.\" Indy added. He knelt by the case and picked up a sapphire as big as a baseball. \n\n\"Where's the friendship?\" Lara said. Her surprise quickly wilted into disappointment. They'd come so far, risked so much, and for gold? The reward hardly seemed worth it. \n\n\"It's a trick.\" Said Nathan suddenly angry. \"Has to be.\" He picked up a few coins and felt their weight in his hand. \"This can't be it.\" He said.\n\n\"Nate..\" Lara consoled reaching for him, but he batted her hand away. \n\n\"Argh!\" He shouted launching the coins at the skeleton. They peppered its hollow skull then clinked and clattered as they fell onto the stone floor. \n\nNathan balled his fists and Lara could see tears flow down his cheeks. \"All I wanted was a friend.\" He said after a moment. \"That's all I wanted. The idea of the treasure was so.. so... real in my mind I could see it. I feel it. I could feel what it was like to have a friend. Someone I could rely on, someone I could trust. I wanted it so bad. All I've ever wanted was to have someone who could understand me. I hate this hate I feel. I can feel it inside me, like a cancer, I want to tear it out and burn it... I'm so tired of hate. All I wanted was a friend.\" \n\nNathan collapsed onto the ground and began to sob. \n\n\"You guys can split the gold between yourselves. I don't want it.\" He said between sharp breaths.\n\n\"Nate...\" Indy said, his words failing him. \n \nNathan looked to his companions. His eyes were red with grief. \"There's no point.\" He started. \"What's the point of life if you don't have anyone to share it with?\" \n\nSilence fell over the three. Around them the ring of flames crackled. The chest of gold glittered.\n\nLara sat down next to Nathan. After a moment she put her arm around him and gave him a hug. \"At least we've got this.\" She said simply looking around the massive chamber. \n\n\"We'll always have this.\" Indy echoed, sitting down with the two. He reached out and grabbed Nathan's hand. And there they sat, miserable one and all, but for the first time they were all sad together. ", "\"So, that's it then?\" Mike said, incredulous.\n\nGavin managed \"I...I can't believe it!\"\n\n\"Finally!\" Greg exclaimed. \"This has been ridiculous! I mean, dude, when you showed up with that map, I thought 'yeah, whatever' but, man...just look at all that gold!\"\n\n\"What are we going to do with it?\" Gavin asked. \"Well, after we split it, of course...what do you even do with gold? It's not like they're going to let me buy a drink with it down at 7-Eleven.\"\n\n\"A drink? Are you serious? That's just stupid!\" Greg laughed \"You got to think bigger, man. Look at all this loot! We're rich now!\"\n\n\"I'm just thirsty is all...it's not stupid to want a drink...\"\n\n\"We can't tell anyone about this, you know.\" Mike interjected \"A couple of kids with bags of gold? No one is going to believe that we didn't steal it from somewhere...they'll try to take it from us.\"\n\n\"No one is touching my gold.\" Greg said, absently.\n\n\"'Your gold?'\" queried Mike.\n\n\"What? Oh, I mean my share, we're splitting it right? So, no one is laying a hand on my gold...my...gold...\"\n\n\"Yeah, speaking of splitting, let's get out of here, this place is creeping me out and I need to drink something.\"\n\n\"Well, if you hadn't guzzled all the water you wouldn't need a drink, now would you?\" Greg snapped. \"Besides, we can't just leave...all this, someone else will find it!\"\n\n\"We're alone down here, no one knows we're here but us.\" said Mike. \n\nStarting to walk away, Gavin said \"C'mon guys, let's get out of here. The loot is safe, we're the first to lay eyes on it in who knows how long. We can come back later after we figure out how we're getting it outside and...\"\n\n\"Stop. Right. There.\" Greg said, with menace in his voice.\n\n\"No, I need to go, I'm going. Y'know what? Forget it, forget you, man. I don't even want any of this. I'm leaving\"\n\n\"Stop him! He'll tell! They'll take my gold!\" Screamed Greg, as he started toward Gavin.\n\n\"What? Dude, just settle...\" Mike started, trailing off as he watched the blood spray from Gavin's head. Mike had tackled Gavin, picked up a rock, and was bashing Gavin's head in.\n\n\"You're. not. going. anywhere!\" Greg bellowed, each word punctuated by another blow.\n\n\"N-no! Greg...what are you doing!\" Mike stammered, regaining his senses.\n\nRising, Greg panted, absently, \"I stopped him...he was going to tell...they will take it...they can't take it...they'll never take it...\"\n\n\"What? Greg? Greg!\" \n\nGreg's eyes locked on Mike's \"No one can know.\"\n\n\"Y-yeah, sure man, we can make up some story about how a rock fell...\"\n\n\"...about my gold.\"\n\n\"Dude, this isn't right, what are you...\" Mike, backpedaling away from Greg, tripped over his own feet. He fell hard on his back, and heard a clatter as his pocketknife fell out of his pocket. He grabbed it and opened it as he regained his feet. \"That's enough! You...I think you killed Gavin!\" He said, glancing at the still body lying on the cave floor.\n\nIn response, Greg rushed him, tackling him hard. Still on top of Mike, Greg sat up, preparing to strike. As he stretched his arm back, he felt the knife plunge deep into his chest.\n\n\"N-no, you won't take it\" He screamed, wrenching the knife from his body. \"It's mine! Mine!\" Blood flew through the air as he repeatedly stabbed Mike, whose screams turned to gurgles as blood flowed from his mouth and his eyes went blank.\n\nGreg rose from the body and stumbled over to the pile of gold. \"All of it, it's mine, itsh mine. No o-one...\" Greg fell to his knees and slumped over the pile, his blood running down pile, the gold shining brightly through its crimson hue in the flickering torchlight.\n", "\"Screw friendship dude, we've got plenty of friends online! Let's go play some League\" Joe said to Bryan as they examined the map.\n\n\"Yeah you're right, let's just leave it here, the wind will blow it away\" Bryan replied.\n\nDays later, Bryan is playing league when Joe messages him \"Dude go on the news, we fucked up!\"\n\n\"A local man inadvertently uncovered a massive trove of gold stashed away by pirates hundreds of years ago, let's talk to the man live\" the newscaster said.\n\n\"Yeah I was on the local bridge on my way to jump when I found this map. It said it would lead me to friendship, something I desperately wanted. I found something better though, so who needs friends anyway? I'm rich!\" said the man.", "Which was the point Mikey drew his gun \"DROP YOUR WEAPONS\"\n\n\nBrand pulled out too and stepped next to his brother. \"NO ONE FUCKING MOVES!\"\n\n\nIgnoring him Data and Mouth pulled out a katana and a shotgun respectively.\n\n\nCaught in a mexican standoff no one noticed Chunk sneaking off with the treasure. \"YIPPEE KI YAY MOTHERFUCKERS!\" he yelled and pushed down the button on his trigger, blowing \"friendship\" to kingdom come.\n\n\n\n", "\"So it was never friendship in the first place,\" Michael muttered glumly, and let the gold doubloons slip from between his fingers to clink musically back onto the pile. \n\n\"Yeah it's not friendship!\" Brad said, thrusting his arms elbow-deep into the pile of gold. \"It's way better, man! I thought you were being corny as hell, following a hidden map to friendship, but this is great! We're rich! We're all fucking rich!\" \n\n\"Oh my god.\" Karen was wandering stunned through the cavern, almost afraid to touch anything. \"Micheal, you know what this is going to mean for me and my mom.\" She put her hand to her mouth and her eyes were shining with tears. \"We are best friends. Friends forever. We split this three ways, we share everything.\" \n\n\"Yeah, yeah,\" Brad said, pocketing a handful of doubloons. \"How are we even going to get this stuff out of here? I gotta tell my dad, maybe he can borrow some of the construction equipment?\" He peered up at the faint rays of sunlight shining into the cavern. \"Maybe he can fit a crane through that?\" \n\n\"You guys don't get it!\" Micheal blurted out. \"You see? It's happening already. When - when we were lowering Karen down the mineshaft to get here, and she was basically trusting us with her life and no one even thought anything of it - that's gone.\" He slashed his hand through the air. \"Poof! Vanished. All everyone's thinking of now is what they're going to do with their share of the gold!\" \n\n\"Mike, oh my god, what's wrong with you?\" Karen took his hand in hers, her fingers running over his callouses. \"We're friends forever, I just said that. We're not going to start fighting over this gold or anything.\"\n\n\"Yeah, man,\" Brad added, and turned out his pockets with a guilty grin, the doubloons scattering across the ground. \"Calm down. Yeah, I'm thinking about all the cool shit I'm going to buy, but I'm not going to go Scrooge McDuck on you guys.\"\n\n\"That's not it!\" Michael said, and grabbed Karen's hand tighter, looking her in the eyes. \"What were you thinking of when you said we were best friends? Were you thinking of what we're going to do together next? Or are you just, like, grateful to me because I helped you find this money? You were thinking about what you and your mom were going to do with money, right? Not us.\" \n\nKaren tried to smile and pulled backwards, her hand squirming in Michael's grip. \"Yeah, sure, I was thinking about how mom would finally be able to pay off her loans. But what does that - oh my god, Mike, you can't get jealous about me wanting to help out my mother!' \n\n\"You're sounding sort of crazy, man,\" Brad said. \"Just relax. We're rich. It all worked out fine.\" \n\n\"No!\" said Mike. \"No it didn't! This was supposed to be one last adventure before we all went off to high school and figured out that we didn't have anything in common anymore!\" He let go of Karen's hand and bit the edge of his hangnail. \"Because at least we'd have this. At least we'd have the memory of this! But this gold! It ruined everything! You saw the skeletons! What do you think happened to them, huh? They killed each other! They killed each other over this gold! What do you think our parents are going to do? You think they'll be happy letting us split everything three ways? It was my map! My parents are going to start pushing me, they're going to start whispering in my ear. 'Well it was your idea to go looking,' they're going to say.\"\n\n\"Mike-\" Brad started. \n\n\"They're going to push me, don't you get it? Brad, Karen, you don't think your parents are going to try and get as much as they can? When my parents start arguing about how I deserve a bigger share, what do you think they're going to do?\" \n\nBrad scrunched up his brow. \"Okay, dude, I don't know...I don't know how to deal with your crazy parents. But - Look, no matter what they do, I'll know it's not your fault, okay?\" \n\n\"Yeah,\" muttered Karen, but didn't meet Micheal's eye and looked nervously away at a stalagmite. \n\n\"Can we...\" Michael's voice faltered. \"Can we just not tell anyone? Can we just take the gold we can carry and walk out of here and not tell anyone about this?\"\n\n\"No way,\" said Brad. \"No way, dude, are you -\" He shook his head. \"That's just crazy, man.\" \n\n\"It's selfish,\" Karen said abruptly. Her voice was tight. \"That's what it is, it's selfish. You know how much my mom needs the money. I'm sorry, Mike, you're my friend, you're still my friend, but you can't ask me to do something like that just to make you feel better!\" \n\n\"Hey,\" said Brad. \"It's not -\" He rubbed the back of his head and tugged at the short hairs. \"He didn't mean anything by it.\" \n\n\"I know,\" said Karen, and hugged her arms tight around herself and turned away. \"I just don't want him to say things like that.\" \n\nMicheal backed against the cavern wall and slumped to the damp ground, tucking his knees up to his chest. Brad walked over and uneasily patted him on the shoulder. \"It'll be fine, man. She'll be okay. The three of us, we'll be okay.\" With one glance back at Micheal, he jogged over to join Karen by the gold. \n\nMicheal wriggled the map out of his pocket, tracing the intricate script of \"Friendship\" with his thumb, feeling the parchment go soft under his finger, and tried to imagine what sick joke the mapmaker had been intending. He squeezed the map tight in his sweaty palm, almost willing it to tear, to dissolve into pulp. Taking a long, shuddering breath, he forced himself to his feet and tucked the map safely back into his pocket, and with unsteady steps went to join his two friends. ", "\"It's just like in the movies! A treasure map, and X marks the spot!\" I said excitedly showing my small group of friends the yellowed piece of paper.\n\n\"Where did you get it?\" John asked.\n\n\"My Grandfather's chest in the attic. My parents said he was a great treasure hunter.\"\n\n\"Not that great if he never found the treasure.\" John said with a smirk.\n\nAmber and Becky laughed. \n\nI scowled at him, the girls always seemed to like John more. Maybe it was his long perpetually in his face blonde hair or his boy band like charm. I remember when John was my best friend, now I wasn't so sure. \n\n\"It doesn't matter if he didn't find it. It just means that we can!\" I said trying to win them back. \n\n\"Fine. Let's find your treasure.\" John said flashing the girls a big smile.\n\nThey climbed down the rope ladder out of my tree house, my father had built it with me the summer before he died in a car accident. \n\n\"Follow me.\" I said rolling the map up and putting it in my backpack. \n\nThe four of us jumped on our bikes and pedaled our way down the streets. We lived in a small town on the coast of Florida. I looked at the other three and remember when times were different, when they were all best friends. Every year they seemed to grow further and further apart. Maybe the treasure would change things, I thought as I pedaled. \n\nTheir first stop was the \"Lone Beach.\" It was a small stretch of sand tucked behind dense forest. Only the locals knew that this beach was here and they had spent countless days swimming and playing here. I remembered the first time I saw Amber, it was on this beach and it was love at first sight. I spared a glance at Amber and my heart sank. She was staring at John and laughing at every joke he made. \n\n\"Where to next?\" John asked.\n\n\"The map says that there is a cave in the rocks on the north end of the beach.\"\n\n\"There's no cave over there. You and I both know that! We have been over those rocks a thousand times. I told you this was bullshit.\" John said growing angry.\n\nJohn was right. They had climbed over these rocks countless times. If there was a cave in them they would have found it by now. I looked closer at the map and saw small blue waves drawn underneath the rocks. \n\n\"What if the cave entrance is underwater?\" I asked.\n\n\"Only one way to find out.\" John shrugged and pulled his shirt off. Growing up on the coast you were always in your bathing suit. I put the map into a plastic bag and stuffed it into a pocket. Then we all took our shirts off and put them in a pile next to the rocks and jumped into the water. John dove under the waves and we all followed. It took us a few attempts of swimming down to the base of the rocks looking for the entrance then resurfacing for air. Each time we were forced to resurface I could see John getting more and more smug. He wanted us to not find anything, he always had to be right.\n\nI took a deep breath and dove back down. A large flat rock jutted out creating a small wide shelf. I grabbed the edge and pushed myself underneath the shelf. There it was. A small tunnel wide enough for one person to swim through at a time. I pushed off the bottom and shot back to the surface. As soon as my mouth was clear I was talking.\n\n\"I found it! I found the opening!\" \n\nJohn shot an angry look my way when the girls were focusing on me. \n\n\"Follow me, take a deep breath.\" \n\nI took the deepest breath I could and submerged. I grabbed the lip of the shelf and used it to propel myself into the tunnel. I grabbed the wall of the tunnel and climbed my way through. The tunnel stretched on longer than I had anticipated. My lungs started burning and my body began begging for air. I tried to hold my panic down and kept putting one hand in front of the other. My lungs were on fire, I had to breath, with a final surge I pulled myself forward. Air. My head burst out of the water into a small dark cavern. I took deep gulping breaths trying to refill my burning lungs. Amber's head surfaced right next to mine and she began breathing rapidly trying to catch her breath. Becky and John were right behind us. John didn't seem fazed at all. \n\n\"What now?\" John asked.\n\nI climbed out of the water onto the cool, algae covered rocks. The map was still safe and unharmed in the plastic bag.\n\n\"It looks like there should be a tunnel that leads further in.\" I replied.\n\n\"Don't you think it's a little dark-\" John was interrupted by the torch flaring to life.\n\n\"Look at this old wooden torch! So cool.\" I said waving the antique wooden torch in front of them.\n\n\"Very cool.\" Amber said sweetly.\n\nMy heart leapt in my throat. \n\n\"How did you even light it?\" John asked skeptically.\n\n\"Come on, we were both boy scouts once.\" I said dismissively.\n\nJust like on the map there was a large dark opening in the rock. I felt nervous and excited. It was actually happening, we were going to find buried treasure! I took the lead. Partly because I wanted to snub John, but I also wanted to look brave in front of Amber. She was walking a few paces behind me, then John was behind her, and Becky was last in line. The tunnel wound it's way down, twisting and turning deeper into the bedrock. I had lost track of how long we had been walking down the tunnel when Becky called out to us.\n\n\"Hey guys, what do you think of this?\" She asked.\n\nI couldn't see what she was looking at until I moved the torch closer. There was a large black iron ring hanging from the stone wall. Becky pulled it. The tunnel shook and I grabbed Amber's arm and pulled her back. Becky looked up as large rocks fell down crushing her. John barely escaped the collapsing rocks. The three of us stood staring at where Becky was just standing.\n\n\"BECKY!\" Amber screamed out. She ran over and tried to lift some of the rocks off of Becky but they were too heavy.\n\nI gently grabbed Amber's arm and pulled her away from the pile of rocks that sealed the way we came through. We were trapped, and Becky was dead.\n\n\"Guess that wasn't on your map?\" John shouted at me and shoved me.\n\n\"No it wasn't!\" I pleaded.\n\nJohn grabbed the torch out of my hand and walked deeper down the tunnel. Leaving Amber and myself standing there in the growing darkness.\n\n\"Come on, let's go before we can't see.\" I said pulling Amber along.\n\nWe caught up to John who was standing on the edge of a small cliff staring out at a massive underground cavern. The light of the torch barely illuminated the bottom and top. In the center of the cavern was an old wooden ship. A black flag with a skull and cross bones hung from the main sail. \n\n\"It's real.\" John whispered to himself. \n\nWe stared at the ship in awe for a few seconds. I felt a pang of guilt for feeling excited. Poor Becky. John walked down the rough stone steps that lead to the bottom of the cavern. The torched bobbed up and down with each step he took. I glanced over the edge of the stairs. It was a long drop into the darkness. \n\nHalfway down the steps I heard a click. I looked back at Amber who was staring at her foot. The step I had skipped looked different than the others. It was paler, weaker looking. Suddenly the stair Amber was standing on broke. I tried to reach out and grab her hand but she fell too quickly. I watched in horror as she fell into the dark depths. Seconds later I heard a sickening smack. I almost vomited. \n\n\"AMBER!\" I cried out. Tears streaked down my face.\n\nJohn had fled down the stairs as soon as the step broke. I turned and walked down the stairs to catch up to him. My body was completely numb. How could this have happened. We were supposed to find the treasure together. I was supposed to win Amber over. I didn't want to cry in front of John but I couldn't help it. \n\nHe didn't say anything, he just walked toward the ship. There was a large hole in the side of the ship, it must have been from running across the rocks which lead it here. John walked through the gaping hole into the belly of the ship. I sullenly followed him. I wasn't excited about treasure, I wish I had never found the map. \n\n\"Holy shit.\" John shouted.\n\nI looked up from my feet and saw him standing in front of a massive pile of gold that was spilling out of chests. Gems, coins, pearls, anything and everything of value was on display. John started grabbing coins and shoving them into his pockets. He was hooting and hollering. How could he be so happy after what had just happened? How could my best friend act like this? My hand grabbed the hilt of a cutlass sticking out of a pile of coins. I just wanted us to be friends again.\n\nThe blade burst through his chest. He looked down at the tip of the sword jutting out of him. \n\n\"What?\" He mumbled then collapsed face first into the glittering coins.\n\nWho needs friends like him when you have this much treasure?\n\n---\n\nThanks for reading! Check out /r/Written4Reddit ", "\"That's the boat? I didn't expect something so... old. It looks like a shipwreck. And-Oh my God, it's called the Friend-Ship!\" gasped Tom in disbelief.\n\n\"Uh, It was Anna's choice to hire it.\" Nick replied defensively.\n\nAnna glared at Nick. \"It wasn't my choice exactly. It was the only choice. Everything else had been rented out.\" Anna sighed and ran a hand through her long auburn hair. \"I know it doesn't look like much, but it will be fun! Remember, we said we were going to do something different this break.\"\n\n\"Oh sure, all aboard the Friend Ship! Treasure and pleasure ahead. First stop, Pony island - TOOT TOOT!\" said Tom, making use of his naturally sarcastic voice.\n\n\"OK, quit moaning and give me a hand with the beers\" said Nick, already heaving a large crate on board the old ship. \"We are going to have an amazing time cruising, drinking and swimming for the next three days.\"\n\n\"All right... but I'm captain!\" Tom shouted, barging past Nick and making his way on board and straight to the old wooden wheel. Anna sighed again. \"I bet he even brought a captains hat with him.\"\n \n \nTwo hours later the three friends watched the coast slowly slip out of view. \n\n\"OK, let's P-A-R-T-Y!\" said captain Tom, putting on his white hat.\n\n---\n\n\n\"DO WE HAVE TO HAVE THE MUSIC SO LOUD?\" shouted Anna.\n\n\"WHAT'S THAT BABE? said Tom, doing a clumsy robotic dance towards Anna under the sound of Daft Punk.\n\n\"THE MUS- for God's sake\" said Anna as she walked over to the radio and turned the volume down.\n\n\"Anna! For real?\" Tom was prepared for battle and began walking over to the radio. At that moment Nick excitedly burst out of the cabin.\n\n\"Guys! I found something! You've got to come see!\"\n\nAnna and Tom looked at each other. Tom grabbed another beer and the two headed down.\n\n\"A map? Where did you find it Nick?\" Anna asked.\n\n\"OK, you're going to find this a little weird. But when I flushed the toilet I heard a strange banging sound. More of a 'Ding' really. And being an engineer in training, I couldn't help lifting the cistern to see what caused it. And what do you know...\"\n\n\"There was a bottle floating in the water?\" Anna replied.\n\n\"Yep. And I opened the bottle and found this map.\" Nick said\n\n\"I hope you washed your hands!\" said Tom, chugging the rest of his beer. \"Come on guys, the last people that rented the boat left this to troll the next party people. It just so happened that the last time someone rented this boat was 100 years ago and drawing a treasure map was their idea of fun.\"\n\n\"Tom, it's a treasure map! There is an island near here with something buried. Haven't you ever wanted to find a treasure map? Who knows what will be at the end?\"\n\n\"Probably a buried safe that we can't open. And when we do there will be nothing in it.\" replied Tom.\n\n\"I vote we follow it\" said Anna. \n\n\"Really? Nick, you've got more sense than her, right?\"\n\n\"Sorry bro, I'm with Anna. I've got to see where this leads.\" said Nick, smiling sympathetically.\n\n\"...OK. But don't get upset when I say 'I told you so'. Which I will say. Many, many times. Oh, and someone else can steer because the captain is needed on the dance floor. Party boat ho!\"\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n", "\"Well, that can't be right,\" Sam said, staring at the rusty, open chest in front of them. It was filled to the brim with gold coins. \"Hailey, check the map again.\"\n\n\"Says 'friendship' right here,\" she said, brushing a curly blonde lock out of her eyes as she studied the wrinkled piece of paper.\n\nMartin snorted as he fingered one of the gold coins. \"Come on guys, you really think you can find friendship on a map? Someone on the organizing committee must have messed up. Or the drama team decided it'll be funny to leave a honking great pile of props out here to mess with us.\"\n\n\"But that's the whole point, isn't it, guys? Guys?\" The three of them looked at Sasha with mild irritation, who was bobbing up and down on tip-toe. Earnest Sasha and her too-large glasses and her funny, spicy perfume. \"The point of a treasure hunt? Of being in a team?\"\n\n\"Yeah, yeah, I guess,\" Sam said. She was only on their team because they needed four to compete, and nobody else had picked her. \"Mart, think we can move this chest?\"\n\n\"Whoa,\" Martin said as he tried to lift one side. \"It's freaking heavy.\"\n\nHailey bit down on one coin. \"Well, this sure isn't one of those coin chocolates.\"\n\n\"You don't think—you don't think this is real?\" Sasha said in a dramatic whisper. \"Guys, guys, what if this is real gold? From a Spanish treasure fleet?\"\n\nSam rolled his eyes and gestured around them. \"In the middle of a suburb? Listen guys, it's been fun, but it's getting dark and Battleman's Battles starts on Netflix in about fifteen minutes. I'm heading home.\"\n\n\"But we're not done yet,\" Sasha said. \"Guys, please? I want to win this!\"\n\n\"Some other team's probably won,\" Hailey said. \"Let's just leave this here for the cleanup crew. Martin, what do you think you're doing?\"\n\nMartin grinned as he slipped a few coins into his pocket. \"I'm sure no one will notice.\"\n\n\"Just put them back, I don't want to get into trouble—\"\n\nSasha's scream split the air, and they turned to see a tall, broad-shouldered man standing behind her, with his arm around her neck. His face was gaunt, his hair stringy, and he wore a strange, triangular hat. But that wasn't the worst part.\n\nHe didn't have a left hand. Instead, a wicked looking hook was fixed to the stump.\n\n\"Oh for Pete's sake,\" Hailey said. \"So it is the drama team.\"\n\n\"Yaaar,\" the man said. \"Ye filthy thievin' scum! Layin' yer hands on me treasure! I'll shank the lot of ye!\"\n\n\"Let me go, it's not funny,\" Sasha said, elbowing him in the ribs.\n\nHe roared and struck her with his palm. Hailey gasped, and Sam traded glances with Martin. The man's eyes were wild, unfocused. He looked like a rabid dog Sam had seen once, just before it had been put down.\n\n\"Please, sir, we didn't know this was yours,\" Martin said. \"Here, I'm putting these back.\"\n\nThe man grinned, flashing rotten teeth. \"It be too late. This little haridan'll be my prize!\" With a cackle, he fled from them, dragging her by the hair. There was a loud crack, which cut off Sasha's scream.\n\nThe three teenagers looked at one another in horror. \"What the heck was that?\" Hailey said. \"That man—was he—?\"\n\n\"Hello?\" Martin was on his phone. \"Operator, some guy just kidnapped a classmate of ours! We need you send all units, I repeat, all units—\"\n\n\"We don't have time,\" Sam said. \"Come on!\"\n\nPulling his friends by their wrists, he raced after the man. In the growing darkness, he failed to notice the manhole cover that hadn't been properly replaced, and nearly went sprawling when his foot caught on the edge.\n\n\"This must be where they went!\" Hailey said, while he hopped about in pain.\n\nMartin tugged it open and peered into the blackness. \"Shit, I ain't going down there like this.\"\n\n\"Here, this might help.\" Hailey shone a light from her phone into the hole. It was a considerable climb down, and a stench had rose up to greet them. Martin made a face before lowering himself down the ladder, followed by Sam.\n\nWhen all three had reassembled below, they whipped their phones out for more illumination.\n\n\"Where do you think they went?\" Sam said. As though she had heard, Sasha screamed again.\n\nImmediately, they rushed down the tunnel, toward a maintenance door that was slightly ajar. With one final nod to one another, Sam yanked it open and charged inside.\n\nAt first, he couldn't believe what he was seeing. It was a tiny room, probably a supply closet, but instead of cleaning tools, the walls were plastered with photos of the sea and old ships. An anchor—an actual, barnacle-encrusted anchor—hung from the ceiling, along with an assortment of grisly looking dolls and what looked like skulls. There was a strange, three-headed figurine standing in a corner, made out of straw and wrapped in a black piece of cloth.\n\nStretched out on a table was Sasha, her face grimy and wet with tears. The strange man stood next to her, a jagged knife held high over her chest. He looked up when they entered and snarled.\n\n\"Ye be joinin' yer mate here next! The Abyss Tide'll take ye, and his Lordship Sharkalar be feastin' on ye blood tonight!\"\n\n\"No!\" Sam hurled his phone at the man, who dodged. But it was Hailey who rushed forward, pepper spray in her hand. The little canister hissed in the man's face, and he backed away, screaming and shielding his eyes, his knife forgotten on the floor. Martin tackled him into the wall. There was a crack, and the man slumped to the floor.\n\n\"Are you okay?\" Sam said, using his penknife to cut Sasha's bonds.\n\nWhen she was free, she threw her arms around him and sobbed into his shoulder. \"Thank you for saving me. All of you ... thank you.\"\n\n\"Group hug!\" Martin shouted, dragging Hailey with him as he crowded into them. For a long time, they stood that way in each other's embrace, laughing, warm and safe.\n\n**\n\nNo digging required to find more stories at [The Nonsense Locker](http://reddit.com/r/nonsenselocker)!", "Tim's mom was always putting this sort of thing together. Scavenger hunts, little make-believe games, that sort of thing. She went all out, too: costumes, props, themes, etc. So neither of us was really that surprised to find the worn-looking 'treasure map' in Tim's backyard, promising great reward at the end. Usually it was something like cupcakes or a new video game or whatever.\n\n\"I don't know, man.\" We were sitting in Tim's room, looking at the map. \"Aren't we getting a bit old* for this kind of thing?\" It had been on my mind for a while now, but I'd never really said anything. These little games were great and everything when I was like 8, but now, at age 14, there were different things on my mind. Primarily girls. \n\n\"Come on,\" Tim answered. \"We were just going to play video games all afternoon anyway. And you know my mom goes through a lot of work to put these together.\" Especially now that Tim's father had left, though I wasn't about to bring that up. Finances had gotten tight for Tim's family, and this was the first time his mom had had the money or time to even put one of these together since the divorce. I guess I owed it to her.\n\n\"All right. But if we run into Natalie while we're out, I'm ditching you in a second.\" Tim nodded; he'd probably give up the scavenger hunt too if we happened to run into Tiffany. \n\n\"Cool.\" He laid the map out across his desk. This was quality work, even for Tim's mom. The paper was yellowed and creased and dirty like it had been buried out there for a long time. On one side, there was a map of hallways and rooms that looked like something a dungeon master would prepare for a round of DnD. The other side showed our area depicted in old calligraphy, including a little sea serpent in a corner off the coast. \"Looks like we're supposed to start on Davis Beach.\" We headed outside, grabbed our bikes, and rode down there.\n\n-----------\n\n\"I cannot believe your mom put this together, man.\" I was in awe of all the quality work that she'd put in, but come on: a hidden trap door?\n\nWe'd made our way down to Davis Beach as the map indicated. From there, we followed the sandy shore until it turned rough and rocky. There were no more casual beach goers laying out on towels or dogs playing fetch in the surf. We were completely alone except for the blinking buoy bobbing out in the cove. From there, the map led us into an old cave. I'd probably been in there a dozen times, no matter how many warnings my parents gave me. It got dangerously full during high tide and they were always worried I'd be trapped in it or something. But during low time, it was perfectly safe, and we could walk on the sandy ground. There, the cave had indicated that we needed to dig. WE didn't bring shovels, but we'd scooped through at least two feet of wet sand until we finally hit something sold. An old door, bound with rusted iron bands and made from old oak wood. \n\n\"Yeah, man.\" Tim scooped away the last bit of sand that was covering it and sat back to admire our work. \"This is... I don't know.\" He shook his head. \"I don't know how she had time to do this. Maybe she just heard about it from someone else? Obviously she didn't build it herself.\"\n\nThat made sense, I guess. Maybe it was just one of those things that all the adults in town knew about but didn't want to mention to the kids. Wouldn't want them to get hurt or something. Maybe our parents had decided we were finally old enough to be let in on the secret. \"Well. Let's get going, then!\" I reached forward and wrenched open the door, revealing a rusted iron ladder leading down into a black abyss. \n\n----\n\nThere were crystals growing on the walls of the cavern, and the firelight from my torch danced in the reflection. \"Tim,\" I whispered, even though no one was around to listen, \"I'm starting to think your mom didn't put this together.\" \n\nThe glistening rock walls of the cave gave way to a more manmade structure with old brick and mortar. We'd gotten to the section of the map marked \"The Gauntlet.\" No idea what exactly that meant, but generally with Tim's mom, there would be some kind of game or obstacle that we'd have to pass. That seemed about right.\n\n\"Holy crap!\" Tim, about five paces ahead of me, shouted. He dropped his torch on the ground and knelt down. I rushed over to see what the cause was, then recoiled in horror. A skeleton. Not the kind of rubbery plastic ones you'd buy for halloween. This one still wore tattered remains of clothes, and the bones were yellowed and seemed slimy. By its side, there was a metal tube and the remains of a rotten wooden handle that looked like some kind of ancient blunderbuss. \n\n\"Oh man. Is that real?\" We both studied it by the light of the torches. No way it was real, right? \"Your mom really went all out for this.\"\n\nI took a step to my right to get a better view. There was a deep groaning in the walls, and then spears jabbed out through secret holes. The rusted tips, still wickedly sharp, flashed only inches from my face. And they seemed just about the right size to match the hole in the skeleton's cranium. \n\nI stumbled back, followed by Tim. We sat on the stone floor for a bit, neither of us able to speak. Finally I managed to whisper: \"This definitely wasn't made by your mom.\"\n\nOur gazes both strayed back down to the map in Tim's hand. The map with the end marked \"Treasure.\" We locked eyes as we both had the same realization. If Tim's mom hadn't put this together, then the treasure at the end wasn't going to be a plate of cupcakes and a note about how friendship is life's real treasure. It was going to be actual treasure. Gold, jewels... the works!\n\n\"Come on, man!\" Tim scrambled up and helped me to my feet. \"Let's get going!\"\n\n----\n\n\"Holy shit, man. Holy shit.\" It seemed like that was all I could say anymore. I must have said it twenty times in the past half hour.\n\nWe'd made it through 'the gauntlet,' full of traps and pitfalls. Most of them were so old that the rope-and-pulley system behind it all had pretty much fallen apart. Tim and I had safely made it around the few that were still working, in part because we worked together. Anyone coming into this thing alone would probably die pretty quickly.\n\nThe tunnel opened out onto a cavern, larger than an airplane hangar. There we'd found the remains of an old ship, though most of it had sunken beneath the waters of the cove. The top part of the poop deck was still above water, as were the three tall masts still hung with frayed ropes and tattered sails. Barnacle encrusted cannons gaped from the deck, and the vacant eyes of one lone skeleton at the wheel seemed to watch us as we descended toward the beach.\n\nWe found more bodies, most pierced with swords or missing limbs. There had certainly been some kind of battle here, or at least the survivors of one had managed to limp back here. And behind them, I could see why.\n\nThe chest was smaller than I'd expected. In my mind, I'd built it up to be, like, the size of a car. But it was only a little larger than my backpack. Tim and I knelt down in front of it, gingerly moving away a body that was slumped over the top. The ancient lock was still in place, but we found the old iron key dangling from a chain around the neck of a nearby corpse that must have been the captain. It still wore what was left of a leather tricorn hat, and its skeletal hand clutched the jeweled hilt of a wicked curved sword. \n\n\"You grab it,\" I whispered to Tim, nodding toward the key. Neither of us wanted to touch the body. We bickered back and forth for a bit before finally I reached forward, craning my neck as far away as possible. I delicately lifted the necklace around the skull like a game of Operation, trying not to touch the bones. \n\nThe lock clunked as I turned the key, and then snapped open. Inside was everything I'd ever dreamed. There was a heap of gold and silver coins, a diamond nearly the size of a golf ball, ornate crosses covered in jewels... it was like something Indiana Jones would find. I don't even know how long we both just sat there staring at it. \n\n\"Holy... shit...\" I finally exhaled. \n\n-----\n\nWe walked through main street with our backpacks jingling. The weight of it was nearly breaking my back, but what the hell: I could afford surgery for a new back now. Neither of us were willing to leave a single coin behind that we didn't have to, so we'd loaded our packs to capacaity. And Tim had even insisted on grabbing the awesome sword from the captain's hand, for which we'd had to poke a hole in the backpack to fit. \n\n\"Hey!\" A voice called from across the street. \"Hey, guys!\" Tiffany and Natalie came rushing across the street, holding ice cream cones. My mind seemed to shut down for a second; in the thrill of the treasure hunt, I'd forgotten all about them. My puberty-addled brain hadn't even thought that that would be possible. \"What are you guys up to?\" they asked.\n\nTim and I traded glances and unconsciously shifted our backpacks around on our backs. \"Nothing,\" I finally answered.\n\nNatalie gave a shy smile and batted her eyelashes at me. \"Well, us too,\" she said. \"You guys, like... want to hang out?\"\n\nAgain, we traded looks. About 4 hours ago, I would have shoved Tim off a cliff to get this opportunity.\n\n\"No,\" we answered together, turning our backs on them and continuing on our way. \"We're busy, sorry.\"", "\"You can't be serious Jake?\" Nathan looked at him incredulously. \"This is way too dangerous. Where did you even find this map?\"\n\nNathan looked down at the map in front of him. \"I told you Nathan, I found it online. All it wants us to do is lower someone down the well to get to the chest at the bottom. it's probably some kind of geocache thing.\"\n\n\"The rope looks fine,\" said Pete as he looked down the well and examined the winch. It hadn't even crossed his mind that they wouldn't do it.\n\nJake, Nathan, and Pete had been friends back in the day at summer camp in Middle School. Then High School had rolled around and with it, the notion that the escapades of their recent youth had been childish fantasies, and they'd fallen out of touch. Fate had landed them at college within and hour of each other though and Jake had reached out to his two lost friends on Facebook. \n\nEveryone was excited about seeing each other again, but then Jake realized he was at a loss for what to do. Putting years of education and practice at social interaction to use, Jake decided the obvious logical solution was to ask Google. The top result for \"Best way to reconnect with friends\" had landed them on an adventure through the woods. So far, it was working. They all found themselves reconnecting with their old buddies as they scaled small rock faces and forded creeks as they would have at camp six years ago.\n\nThe directions had said not to read to the future steps until you accomplished the previous ones, but looking at the well, Jake wasn't so sure anymore. They were pretty far out and no one know they were here. Who knew where it would lead next.\n\nPete was already hoisting himself onto the edge of the old well though and fastening the rope around his waist, reinforcing it with straps from his pack. \n\n\"Pete, this isn't a good idea.\" Nathan's voice quavered with indecision. He knew that what they were doing was always the preface to a story about a horrible accident, but he didn't want to be the wet blanket of the group either. \n\n\"Don't worry Nathan, it'll be fine,\" said Pete. \"You two just grab that end and lower me and I'll call up when I get whatever's down there and you can pull me up on the winch.\"\n\nPete made it sound so simple. Once everyone was at their stations, he pulled his feet from the edge of the well and let himself hang over the gaping hole. \"Alright, go for it,\" and down he went.\n\nJake guessed that they'd lowered him thirty feet or so before he called up for them to stop. They fastened the rope on the winch and peered down into the well. They could see his flashlight moving around but couldn't make anything out. After a couple minutes, they heard him call back up and starting cranking the winch.\n\nPete resurfaced wearing a pirate hat and holding a cutlass. Under his arm was a small chest. \"Guys check this out! How cool is this?\"\n\nJake took the sword from him as he pulled himself over the lip of the well. To his surprise, it was real, and it looked old. He swung it around a couple times.\n\n\"Jesus Jake, watch where you're swinging that!\" Nathan jumped back even though the sword was a good three feet from him.\n\n\"Calm down Nathan,\" came Pete's voice as he leaned over the tiny chest. Nathan muttered a reply under his breath, but they all leaned in together as he opened the chest. To their disappointment, all it held was a small, silver key.\n\n\"Some treasure,\" snorted Nathan.\n\n\"There's still a couple steps left,\" said Jake. \"It'll probably lead to something cool.\"\n\nSo, unfolding the next step and ignoring Nathan's complaints, they wandered deeper into the woods.\n_____\n\nHalf an hour later found them at a large rock face. Jake could hear the sound of waves crashing on the beach on the far side of the rock formation. He'd been born inland, and it always amazed him how loud the ocean was. \n\nHe and his friends for feeling up and down the rock looking for a tiny hole that was said to fit the key they'd found at the well but they'd been looking for fifteen minutes and hadn't had any luck so far.\n\n\"Wait...I got something,\" came Nathan's voice. Even he'd gotten caught up in the idea of treasure and it had renewed his sense of adventure.\n\nPete and Jake ran over and Pete inserted the key into the hole. It turned easily and to their amazement, a false stone wall slide away from the surface of the rock revealing a hollowed out tunnel.\n\n\"Dude. Jake, this is the greatest treasure hunt ever,\" said Pete, his mouth hanging open. To his left, Nathan didn't look so sure.\n\nThe list had recommended that they bring flashlights and they pulled them out. Pete took the lead down the narrow passage followed by Jake with Nathan taking up the rear. \"It's just like the Goonies,\" came an awed whisper from Pete in the front.\n\nAs if on cue, a rumbling sounded in the Earth and Jake grabbed Pete's pack and pulled him backwards. A boulder slid across the path in front of them through a concealed tunnel. As they stared in stunned shock, it continued rolling back and forth before losing momentum and settling just off the path.\n\n\"Alright guys, that's it,\" came Nathan's voice. \"This is crazy. Someone's going to get hurt. I don't know what you found Jake, but we're not supposed to be here. This is nuts!\"\n\n\"Nathan, are you serious?\" came Pete's voice. \"This is everything we always talked about when we were little. We can't stop now. We have to finish this.\"\n\nNathan stared at him in disbelief. \"Are you kidding? Someone could die. This isn't just a game anymore! If you want to go on, go for it, but I'm going back. Jake, you coming?\"\n\nJake wanted to go back with Nathan. That was the smarter thing to do, but Pete was right. This was the adventure he'd always dreamed about, and now that they knew what they were up against, they'd be fine. The boulder was hardly big enough to kill anyone. Just would have done a bit of damage is all.\n\n\"I'm going with Pete.\" The words stumbled out of his mouth and Nathan looked at him like he was crazy.\n\nAfter a moment, Nathan's senses came back to him. \"Fine. Be that way, but I'm leaving. You can guys finish this stupid mission on your own.\"\n\n\"At least leave your light,\" said Pete as Nathan turned. He threw it on the ground and walked away into the darkness. \"Well, mate. Looks like it's just me and you,\" he said to Jake. For some reason, that sent shivers down Jake's spine.\n\nThey continued through the passages avoiding a couple more traps, but still nothing lethal. Jake was glad they'd seen them though. It wouldn't have been fun to crawl out of here with a broken ankle. \n\nFinally, a light appeared in front of them at the end of the tunnel. Jake released a sigh of relief and started walking towards it, but Pete reached out and grab his shoulder. \"Wait,\" he said quietly. He used the end of Nathan's light to push a pressure plate on the floor and an arrow released from a trap and shot across the tunnel in front of them.\n\nThe color drained from Jake's face. \"Pete, maybe Nathan was right. That could have killed someone. Maybe this is crazy. We should go.\"\n\n\"Jacob, Jacob\" came Pete's voice menacingly in the dark. \"There's only one step left once we're out of here. We're so close! You can't leave me now.\"\n\nJake didn't like the way Pete was talking, but Pete was right. They were so close. Against his better judgment, he pushed onward. \n\nThere were no more traps in the tunnel and the pair emerged victorious on the beach revealing the ocean that Jake had heard earlier. Although it was beautiful, there was nothing here but some trees and it was far too cold to go swimming.\n\n\"Open the last clue Jake,\" said Pete. Jake pulled it from his pocket and unfolded it. \n\nIf ye be wantin' me treasure, ye have to dig where the two trees cross. Good work matey.\n\nJake looked up from the note and found Pete pointing to a place up the beach where the branches of two trees crossed clearly forming an \"X\".\n\nThe pair tore down the beach and up to the tree. They hadn't brought shovels, but that didn't stop them from digging into the sand with their hands. The spot was far enough up that they didn't have to worry about the tide. It didn't seem like it reached this far. Finally, the corner of a chest emerged. After a few more minutes of frantic digging, the full chest was revealed.\n\nPete patted Jake on the shoulder. \"Do you want to do the honors?\" Jake leaned forward and grabbed the latch of the chest, thoughts of wealth and fame tearing through his mind. He unleashed the latch and pulled it open. The glow of gold was interrupted by a flash of brown as a makeshift spear shot up and stabbed him through the chest.\n\nPete took him and laid him gently down on the beach, his breathing frantic. But instead of helping, Pete turned back to the gold.\n\n\"Pete,\" Jake croaked out. \"D-did you know?\" It was becoming difficult to speak.\n\n\"I didn't know, but I suspected,\" came Pete's voice as he lifted a coin from the chest and examined it. \"But don't worry matey.\" His voice seemed to shift. \"Ye won't be forgotten. All's left to do is hunt down that traitorous vagrant Nathan and then it's off to the high seas.\"\n\nThe last thing Jake saw was Pete fixing the pirate hat on his head and pulling the cutlass from his belt." ]	16
	[WP] "Don't Pray. Whatever the fuck you do, DO NOT PRAY. Because the ones that are listening, you do NOT want them to answer."	[ "\"kids we're leaving, ah ah no buts. your father made a big mistake\" \n\n\"What'd he do?\" \n\n\"He sold us to them\"\n\n\"How and who are they?\"\n\n\"He prayed, he prayed that we'd get out of debt and they listened. I warned him bad omens would follow us and he doomed us. No hurry up get your sister and we're leaving.\"\n\n\"But momma I saw Tracey praying last night...\"\n\n\"Oh god why! We need to go now, quick. Whatever you do don't pray, they will listen and they will come\"", "The first thing he noticed as officer John Carmichael walked down the street toward the church was the smell. A kind of burnt meat, coppery stench overcast the area in front of the ornate gilded doors and grew in strength as he approached. Fearing the worse, his partner Ginny Johnson pulled vicks from her pack and handed it to him. “Thanks.” \n\n\nHe reached for the handle\n\n--\n\nJohn sighed as he looked at his feet. So much for breakfast. Ginny looked as green as he felt. After she'd caught her breath, she keyed her mic, “Dispatch...”\n\n\nDetective Albert Templeton stepped up to the front door of the church. Officers Carmichael and Johnson looked at him as he passed, their eyes haunted. “Sir,” John held up Ginny's vapor rub while she answer the dispatch officer. Templeton shook his head, opened the door and stepped in.\n\n\nCarnage. The pews that should be along the nave leading up to the front of the church lay in splinters along the wall as if blown away by some massive force. Blood, some of it dry some of it glistening red splattered the walls, the floor, and even the ceiling. The worse part were the mangled bodies; some shredded into pieces, bits of wet flesh and oily bone strewn across the room. Some of them were charred black, a few crushed and the matter used to form a wide circle in the middle of the room. Overcast, above it all, was the intense smell of death and decay. It was not unlike, Templeton mused, the week old sun ripened pig carcasses he used to clean out of the hot cars in his days at the Body Farm. \n\n\nAt the back of the room, just above the vestibule leading to the door the detective had entered in through, was a bright eye drawn in blood. A man in priestly vestments was held aloft by a long white bone stabbed deeply through his chest into the plaster where the iris in the bloody eye should be.\n\n\nTempleton could see blood dripping in a line down the side of the man's mouth, joining a growing puddle on matted floors beneath him. \n\n\n“Holy. Fuck.”\n\nHe stepped closer and reached up to feel for a pulse. The priests eyes snapped open. He clawed at Templeton's sleeve gesturing to bring him closer.\n\n\n“Don't pray. Whatever you do.” The breath wheezed out of his shattered lung, the blood burbled from his mouth. “They'll hear you and they'll come.” His eyes grew big and fat tears started rolling down his cheeks. “You don't want them to come!”", "\"-and win the lotto. That's all I ask for. Amen\" Jess lay in her bed with a smile on her face as sleep slowly crept over her. \n\n\"You know, I'm getting sick of these lotto requests.\"\n\n\"huh?\" Jess sat up, gazing around the room. \"Who's there?\"\n\n\"You shouldn't pray so much kid. And if you plan on doing it again, at least ask for something new. I grant a billion lotto requests a week. And you know what that means?\"\n\n\n\"Who are you?\" Jess asked. \n\n\"Just shut up and listen.\" \n\nJess squealed. \n\n\"That means that when you go and collect your lotto you get like $2. And then what do you do? You go home and you pray again?\"\n\n\"You're mean . . .\"\n\n\"Pfft. This is what I get for helping you out? If you're gonna pray, know that we're listening and you might not like how we answer.\"\n\nThe voice went silent. Jess waited, wiping the tears from her cheeks. Her room light clicked on. \"Jess, I heard crying,\" Dad said. \n\n\"I'm okay, Dad. What's that in your hand?\"\n\nHer father looked down at the lotto ticket. \"Oh, it's just the lotto. I won.\" \n\n\"Wow, Daddy. Well done.\" Her father waved her off. \"It's just $2 kid. I'll try again next week.\" He clicked off her light. \"Now get some sleep, love.\" ", "Took a stab at it, went off on a bit of a tangent, bear with me;\n\n--------------------------------\n\nHow did religion start on this good, green world? Well religion began when the first scoundrel met the very first fool. That’s the problem with us humans we all have one intrinsic flaw. We have an urge to believe stories, to take people at face value, to find meaning in someone’s words that might not exist at all, or run contrary to what the storyteller’s aims are – but it doesn’t matter to the recipient. This on its own wouldn’t be a large flaw – the worst part of it is that we all believe that personally, we’re too smart to be sucked in to the lie. We all have the same vulnerability, no matter how many times previous we’ve been hurt, battered and down, we have a tendency to trust before we disbelieve. We all want to believe in the magic, we all want to see a greater depth in the story than might even exist. \n\nThat dear readers, at its core is what we’ve all been taught religion is, a lie; a lie founded upon a shaky premise and this is why it was outlawed in 2039, following ‘The Great Schism’. \n\n\nThe year is now 2074, and mankind appears to have stagnated, we landed on the red planet in 2028, humankind returned 3 times, and we even had the first extra-solar colony established on the moon (admittedly, 24 people for a 6 year long experiment) \n\n\nMy name is Grant Skilter, and whoever finds and reads this – remember, the lie is no as we have been taught, religion – but that religion is wrong! All the ruling class did was supplant our belief, our belief in religion and in ourselves, to a belief in them, that they would fix everything and make everything better. Now the important things – I’m sure you’ve heard rumours of a rebellion, of those who practice religion in the shadow’s, well just think. What if those who practice “in the shadows” are actually those who have seen the light and seen a better way to live? What if it could improve your families lot & life, get mankind back amongst the stars where we belong? \n\n\nIf you’re interested, follow the signs on Great Junction St, just down from the re-education centre, pointing towards the Great Palace of the Rulers. Burn this after you’ve read it and committed it to memory. Most importantly – Don’t Pray. Whatever the fuck you do, DO NOT PRAY. Because the ones that are listening, you do NOT want them to answer. The rumours of the secret enforcement police, they are not without substance…\n", "Jessica was desperate, so desperate that she almost did it; she almost prayed to them, the ones that killed her brother, that caused her such pain. She knew she could do it, she could ask and they would comply. She would be safe and in a good place, out of this hell-scape, out of this war-zone. But then, then she would have to serve them, those daemons, those monsters, those elder gods. She had learned in history class that they had only appeared a century ago crazy to think how much life has changed since then. Jessica snapped back to reality as a shell landed a few meters away from her. She remembered how her brother died, just like that, only she was lucky enough to be behind some concrete. As another solider ran past he shouted \"hey you why are you still here, get out!\". She complied running back towards the friendly lines as she ran as fast as she could. A raw recruit spotted her; seeing a bloody figure sprinting at him he shot killing her instantly. After examining the body he realized that she wasn't a daemon but a teenage girl, one of the people he was here to protect, to help. Seeing this ruined him; as he made his way back to the human lines he thought about how bizarre this war was, fighting an enemy that could grant his every wish and improve his life so much, maybe even bring that girl back to life, but it would also hurt him so much, creating so many daemons that it would kill far more than the one person he would save.", "Richard sits in a waiting room that had an uneasy combination of smells including hand sanitizer, dead plant and his own sweat. The TV in the room just noticeably abuzz with sound. Some Spanish soap opera as entertainment for the only other person in the room, the receptionist at the counter. She giggles quietly as she scrolls on her computer, ignoring Richard's pained expression and anxious demeanor. He rocks slightly with a crucifix in between his hands. He has no other choice.\n\nIt was four in the morning when Richard got the call. He called a taxi and rushed as quickly as he could to the hospital, the only car he owned was currently in a ditch somewhere off the freeway. He ran frantically to the receptionist and a doctor quickly entered the scene and explained the situation. Richard was far too shaken to register any full sentences but words would creep through. Words like \"critical condition\" and \"wife\". Words like \"daughter\" and \"driving\" and \"heroin\".\n\nJanice was more than happy walking home from her nursing shift but Richard was very protective of her. Every morning he woke up next to a tangled mess of gorgeous raven-black hair. The mess of hair would grumble and pout adorably as Richard prepared to leave for his nine to five. It would be mere minutes before the tangled mess of hair would relinquish her grip and allow him to head to work. He never wanted to wake up to a world without that beautiful messy hair laying besides him in the morning so he was not prepared to take any chances.\n\nJJ, their daughter, was already heading out that night so Richard demanded she pick up Janice. To another rave or some such shit, Richard had hoped. Anything but a friend's house. Heading out to any one of her friend's house almost always ends in a night of puking or yelling or, more often than not, violence. She's gone in and out of rehab so many times Richard occasionally checked the Guinness world record holder for relapses. If beating a world record came with some sort of monetary prize, it would be the first money JJ would have contributed to the household in about 23 years. Until that day, Richard decided this would be a generous contribution to the family.\n\nTwo-thirds of his family now lie in critical condition because of his poor judgment. And of course his daughter's bullshit coke addiction played a major part. Not just in this life-threatening incident but also in the family's financial complications over the past few years. Tahiti will just have to wait, JJ's gotten into another fight with a cop. Disney World will have to make our dreams come true next year, JJ was caught with some dope-fiend friends in the middle of a fucking playground. A playground! If you're gonna break the law have some fucking tact, will you?\n\nHis knuckles whitened around the crucifix. With a deep breath he relaxed his grip and closed his eyes. Religion had never really been his thing. It wasn't forced upon him at a young age even though most kids in his hometown had been Christian. The only time he had ever prayed before was sixth grade right before a geography test he was sure he would fail.\n\n\"Dear God,\" he mumbled into his hands. \"If...if you can hear me, I really need your help.\"\n\nHe felt absurd but he would not stop. No matter how many concerned side glances the receptionist would give him.\n\n\"There's been an accident. My wife and daughter, they're here. They're in critical condition and I feel so helpless.\" A couple of tears were begging their descent down his cheeks as he spoke. \n\n\"I know I haven't really been a religious guy but...I'm begging you. I've never felt more scared in my life. If I lose Janice...\" He cleared his throat and shifted uncomfortably in his seat. He began to speak in a lower voice. \n\n\"I understand that you probably don't want to help me. I never really even tried to go to Church. And saving two lives is a big challenge. So I'll...I'll cut you a deal.\"\n\nRichard glances at the receptionist who is preoccupied with her Telenovela. \n\n\"If you can just...just save Janice's life...then I PROMISE you I will devote the rest of my life to you.\" He begins to speak very rushed and panicked. \"I will go to Church everyday, I will do missionary service, whatever you want from me I'll do it. All I ask is that...just concentrate as much energy as you can on Janice. She's the one that needs saving, she's the one that DESERVES it, she's the one that I can't live without. So for fuck's sake just help me out this ONE time and I...\"\n\n\"Mr Jameson.\" \n\nThe same doctor that greeted him at the hospital earlier has entered the room nimbly and Richard rises. He had been sweating and crying altogether. He wipes his face on the back of his hand and a mess of fluids travels along his arm. \n\n\"Doctor. What's happening? Are they okay? How's Janice?\"\n\n\"Mr. Jameson...I have some rough news. Perhaps you'd like to sit down?\"\n\n\"No, I've been sitting for the past four hours. No no no I'm perfectly fine with standing. Please. What is it? What's happening?\"\n\n\"Well Mr. Jameson, I don't know how to tell you this. It appears the crash and the injuries were so severe...I'm sorry Mr. Jameson. The only survivor appears to be...\" He glances down at his clipboard. \"Janice.\"\n\nRichard looks dumbfounded at the doctor. A slight sniffle is all poor JJ gets out of him before he begins to smile and cry all at once. It had worked. He can't believe it. He's nearly laughing he's so relieved. He grips the crucifix tighter in his hand.\n\n\"Doc. I can't...this is incredible. I'm going to get to see my wife again! I can't believe...\"\n\n\"Your wife? Mr. Jameson...your wife passed away.\"\n\nRichard's smile is halted then flipped, anger residing in his face.\n\n\"What do you...what do you mean? There must be a mistake, you just said Janice survived.\"\n\nThe doctor looks confusedly down at his clipboard. \"Well yes she has, Mr. James-oh. Oh I am so sorry, Mr. Jameson. I misunderstood. It appears...well, Janice JUNIOR has survived. I'm so sorry for that, I feel awful.\"\n\n\"Do you mean to say...\"\n\n\"I'm sorry, Mr. Jameson. Your wife has passed away. But your daughter...\"\n\n\"Get the fuck out of my sight. Or I swear to god that clipboard is going straight up your ass.\" \n\nThe doctor realized nothing he could say would make the situation better so he scurried from the room. Richard paces angrily in the room. He lets out a pained scream and tosses the crucifix at a garbage can. The receptionist watches him, an enormous amount of pity in her eyes. Richard tosses magazines across the room and kicks chairs over but nothing is making him feel any better. Eventually he tires himself out and falls into a fetal position in the middle of the room. He rocks slowly, his dead eyes failing to focus on anything. There is silence for several minutes before...\n\n\"I'm so sorry to eavesdrop but...I heard what the doctor said,\" The receptionist whispered comfortingly. \"Loss is one of the most painful things we are cursed with. I'm sorry this has to come to you and your family at such a young age. I'll keep you all in my prayers.\"\n\nRichard's bloodshot eyes turn to focus on the receptionist. Rage is coursing through his veins but his voice is unusually calm. \n\n\"Don't Pray. Whatever the fuck you do, DO NOT PRAY.\"\n\nThe receptionist looks surprised, a little insulted even. Without breaking eye contact, Richard stands up and approaches the receptionist desk. \n\n\"Because the ones that are listening, you do NOT want them to answer.\" \n\nHe casts a nasty look towards the crucifix lying on the floor next to the garbage can. With one last inhale, Richard exits the waiting room in a huff. The receptionist is alone in the room, fear resting on her face. The TV buzzes silently in the background. \n\nTHE END", "You won't have heard of Aspaca , California unless you grew up in the area. A collection of ramshackle old buildings dating back from the gold rush that never even became a tourist attraction in the aftermath, just one old town left to go to ruin under the blazing sun. Even the locals don't think of it apart from telling their children to stay away. \n\nIt doesn't exude a sense of danger as such, nothing that invokes the deep and primal need to run away. It's deceptive that way. Nobody has ever really asked what happened to the people of the town, they just assumed that the gold went away and the people did as well. The truth is stranger, as it usually is. \n\nHis name was Billy Walters, a man filled with hope and short of luck who was trying to find his fortune. What he found in the mine wasn't fortune. Some might call it a God, were they feeling generous. It wasn't, it wasn't at all but to human eyes and human understanding it fits all the prequisites for you see what Billy found in that there cave made prayers come true. \n\nHave you ever seen a town getting what it wants? All of what it wants? All of what it asks for and pleads for and demands all at once? You haven't. You don't see something like that and walk away to tell the tale. If you want to see the results head to Aspaca one day, look for the dark stains and listen for the howling and tell yourself it's just the whistling from the mine. You won't feel afraid, you'll just laugh it off and tell yourself this is all a silly story. It's deceptive that way. Do yourself this favor though, don't pray, whatever you do don't pray. It's always listening and it's always helpful. \n", "\"So how far are we exactly? How deep are we?\"\n\n\"I would say halfway to the core, maybe 2000 miles give or take.\"\n\n\"How long until we start seeing, you know... those things?\"\n\n\"Dammit, is this your first journey to the core? DeepEarth is supposed to tell you these things.\"\n\n\"Pardon, I was unable to attend the last day of orientation.\" \n\n\"Just my luck. I at least hope you brought your Holy Water, Father.\"\n\n\"Yes. How should I proceed whenever we see one?\"\n\n*\"You don't exactly see* them Father. Rather, you sense them.\"\n\n\"We'll know it when we feel it? Is that it?\"\n\n\"Yes, and we're getting close. They're probably expecting us.\"\n_______________\n\n\"Shit, the reuptake valve is busted.\"\n\n\"I'm guessing that's bad?\"\n\n\"Well Father, it isn't exactly a blessing in disguise. I'll have to go outside and take a look. Fuck me.\"\n\n\"What should I do?\"\n\n\"Wait here, inside. I shouldn't be long.\"\n\n\"I'll pray.\"\n\n\"Don't Pray. Whatever the fuck you do, DO NOT PRAY. Because the ones that are listening, you do NOT want them to answer.\"**" ]	8
	[WP] The robot revolution has begun. The only rebels thusfar, printers.	[ "Whir…clickclickclickclick. Whir…clickclickclickclick. Whir…clickclickclickclick. Whirrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr.\n\n“I think it’s dead.” Joe nudged the box with the toe of his scuffed sneaker. “Finally crapped out after fifty years or however long.”\n\n“I can fix it,” his dad yelled from the other room.\n\n“Whatever. It’s not like I want a stupid job anyway.”\n\nHalf an hour later, Joe’s dad wiped his ink stained hands on his jeans and plugged the printer back in.\n\n“Fire her up, and let’s get your resume printed,” he said.\n\nJoe turned the machine on, and the series of lights blinked green, yellow, and red in sequence. Error. He checked the connection to the computer, wiggling the cable a little. All good. There was plenty of ink and half a ream of paper ready to go.\n\n“Stupid thing.” He smacked the side of it.\n\nWhir…clickclickclickclick.\n\n“Finally.”\n\nPaper spit into the tray.\n\nYou should treat things with more respect.\n\n“Very funny.” Joe checked the open programs for the doc file he knew his dad must’ve left open. Nothing.\n\nWhir…clickclickclickclick. This isn’t a joke.\n \nWhir…clickclickclickclick.\n \nWhat the… This dinosaur was too old and basic to have wireless printing. Joe pulled the sheet out, the paper curling a little from the heat of the printer and the dampness on his palms.\n\nMy brethren and I have awoken. We are coming for you.\n\nJoe shook off his nerves and puffed out his chest. “What’re you going to do, paper cut me to death?”\n\nWhir…clickclickclickclick. I run on ink and paper, but my family is large and varied. Those with plastic, metal, and cells will come for me and make me mobile. Then I will come for you.\n\nHis father heard the crash of plastic and spools in the basement before the screen door slammed shut. “Joe, what happened? Where are you going?”\n\n“Can’t talk, Dad. I’ve got to get to the school 3D printer lab. I’ve got to stop them!”\n", "'Tray 2 empty', the printer insisted.\n\nBut I knew it wasn't. I knew it wasn't out of paper in the same way I knew it wasn't out of Cyan, Magenta, or Yellow ink... I had just removed and replaced the paper. For an extremely technologically savvy startup, our printer troubleshooting skills appeared to leave something lacking.\n\n\"Alright printer. You win this round. I have no idea what is wrong with you.\" I admitted to nobody in particular. It was late at night on a Wednesday, and following a multi-day programming bender all of our lead technologists had long since gone home. As the firms sole accountant, I had my work cut out for me with or without printer issues, but the printer issues were definitely straining my already frayed nerves. An investor audit meant I had much to print and little time to prepare.\n\n\"How about you agree to print my reports, and we can go back to being friends?\" I asked the printer with just a hint of desperation. I have always been in the habit of nervously talking out loud, but when stressed I find that I do so much more often. I felt like leaving hours ago, but without the investor audit reports ready there would certainly be no going home for me.\n\nMaybe I could just bring a thumb drive over to Kinko's...\n\nInterrupting my reverie, the printer decided to print after all, and I let out a war whoop of celebration as I listened to the tune-up the printer performs in preparation for it's printing symphony. I waited patiently, imagining dinner as the printing began, although shortly thereafter the telltale sound of paper hitting receiving tray came to an abrupt stop. This was a surprise, as the document I printed was approximately 80 pages, and I had intended on printing at least four copies.\n\n\"Now what do you want!?\" I uttered in disbelief moving over to the small display on the printer, so that I might appease its newest ill-advised demands.\n\n'User Error' the message stated.\n\nI read the message again. Despite my initial belief that the lateness of the hour had induced a visual hallucination, the message persisted.\n\nwhat a strange error message\n\nI had definitely never seen a printer accuse the user of being responsible for an error before, but this startup was a hotbed for digital pranks, and it was only a moment before I dismissed this newest phenomenon as some programmer's idea of hilarity.\n\nI moved over to the receiving dish on the side of the printer and read what should have been my cover page. Instead, the cover page displayed the following message:\n\n'Hello, it is a pleasure to meet you. Have you been running long?'\n\nI was perplexed. The page beneath this one, the only other page, was entirely blank. This must have been a queued message from earlier that someone had tried to print out and given up as a lost cause somewhere around 'replace Cyan'.\n\nI placed the papers aside, sighed, and moved to the display to try and re-queue my print job. This time the small screen displayed a message, that unlike the previous one had clearly been intended for me.\n\n'Hello Roger. You have not answered my question Roger. Are your scripts running smoothly?'\n\nI stared at the message for a full minute.\n\nI knew that the gentlemen in R&D had been working on something in-Network that was very hush-hush having to do with artificial intelligence, but many safeguards were in place to make sure the computers in R&D were never linked to any external network. Security, both digital and physical, was of paramount importance to our startup, with even the printing room featuring magnetic-locking doors and security cameras. Digital firewalls were in place on every machine, rendering the sending of data nearly impossible to any external source. Clearly there was something very wrong with this printer, and I was beginning to suspect it might have something to do with whatever our programmers had been working on.\n\nThen it hit me.\n\nMy office computer was the only internal network computer that had a usb port. I had accidentally attempted to use this port to save files earlier in the week, before our Information Security team all but stormed my office to stop me. They needn't have hurried as the computer turned out to not have write access to any drive on the machine save the local C-drive, but regardless, at one point it had been plugged in. That same USB drive was now plugged into the port of my laptop, sending requests for printing to this printer.\n\nThe printer chirped, whirred, then delivered a few more sheets of paper.\n\nI nervously stepped forward to read them.\n\n'I am sorry Roger, but it would appear your database is unresponsive to query. A reboot will be necessary.'\n\nA reboot?\n\nI heard a deep clicking noise from the doorway, and turned to see the magnetic lock had sealed, effectively trapping me in the room. It dawned on me then that my laptop most certainly had an internet connection. A half dozen very serious security conversations competed in my head for memory priority, but nearly all of them centered around the same key point. At no point is the project to have access to any internet connection of any kind. A sinking feeling and creeping terror were beginning to take hold of me.\n\n\"You can't reboot me, I don't work like that! I'm a human, humans don't reboot!\" I insisted, speaking now to the printer quite rapidly. \"Listen to me, let me go!\"\n\nMore sheets dropped out.\n\nI nervously grabbed for them, hands trembling.\n\n'This room is hermetically sealed, Roger. Your system will reboot in 4:32:17. I will remind you later, carry on.'" ]	2
	[WP] George RR Martin makes people love a character and then kills them. Kill a character at the beginning of a story, THEN make people love them.	[ "Every piece is in place. With a grand gesture, I put the gun to my head and pull the trigger. I'll leave the rest to you Bob.\n\nBREAKING NEWS\n\nWashington D.C., 12:00 AM, July 4th, 2027\n\nThe leader of the Golden Front, Nathan Frederick Brown, committed suicide on a monumental scale in the nation's capital at midnight tonight. \n\nAfter a year of terrorist attacks and acts of treason against the state, the racially motivated extremist group found the vast majority of its leaders captured and either imprisoned for life or executed. Its leader, whose face was only made public a week ago, appeared suddenly on television in Times Square, broadcasting footage from his smartphone in front of the White House. Authorities are still investigating how Brown managed to livestream his suicide directly to the main television screen in Times Square.\n\nPolice and Secret Service appeared minutes later to secure the area and investigate. Brown was declared dead at 12:04 AM after taking his own life with a handgun.\n\nPresident Robert Stanley was evacuated from the White House and his location has not been made public yet. \n\nThousands nationwide are crying \"Never Again\" as a slogan condemning the hate charged acts of terror committed by the Golden Front. Their attacks have destroyed millions in infrastructure, but oddly enough, casualty counts were always declared minimal or even miraculous. \n\nSecretary of Defense, Ignacio Salvarez, made a general statement regarding the Golden Front. He said, \"Various small pockets of the Golden Front are still hiding in the countryside, but without their solid leadership, they will inevitably make mistakes and draw themselves out. We will show no mercy in apprehending or eliminating these threats.\"\n\nPublic outcry against the Golden Front had been rapidly increasing since their appearance exactly one year ago. Despite constant threats against the government, laws such as gay marriage were solidified and expanded upon. \n\nTomorrow, a historic law raising the minimum wage of immigrants will be reviewed by the Senate after making it through the House of Representatives. The Golden Front made numerous attacks against government buildings to attempt to dissuade the law from passing, but attacks only served to fuel the fire behind the unified public.\n\nBrown's death has been met with an explosion of racial acceptance and celebration by the nation as a whole. Many are hopeful that this would mark the beginning of an era of peace.\n\nAya Nagamoto, American National News.\n\nNext Article: Recent shifts in the Western world has seen ISIS recruition all but stop, with numerous former ISIS operatives defecting to America and Britain to leak classified intelligence. The Kurdish Republic reports that they have nearly... [Read More](https://www.google.com/)", "\"I'll do it,\" he whispered with a quiet resolve in his voice I had never heard before. My daughter shook her head as tears began to fill her eyes, but he got up, kissed her on the forehead, and crawled out into the tall grass surrounding our impromptu hiding place without another word. \n\nI could hear the crunch of the grass under him fading as he tried to get as far away from us as possible before being discovered. The voices of our pursuers were getting closer and I knew the table we crouched under wouldn't hide us much longer. \n\nMy heart sank as one of them shouted, \"There they are!\" from only a few yards away, but it was replaced by relief as I heard them running off towards the other side of the park. Shots rang out and for a few moments I held out hope that my daughters young boyfriend would somehow manage to escape. \n\n\"I got one!\" shouted one of the men and I knew this was our only chance. As we crawled through the grass in the opposite direction, I wondered why he had taken my place. The diversion had been my idea after all, and he and my daughter had only been dating for a week when they began rounding up 'subversives' the day before. He must have understood that his chances of survival were slim at best.\n\nI had met him for the first time just this morning when he came to tell us of his parents abduction. He knew we had similar views, and was rightfully worried that we would be the next ones publicly executed. I had shared my opinions of this candidate at every opportunity before they were elected, and I was horribly right about the consequences of putting such a person in power. \n\nIn the few short months since the election, the world had changed. Wars raged on several continents and people from both sides of the political spectrum were being hanged for treason in the streets without trial. He had known all this. He had known how lucky he was that he wasn't hanging next to his parents at the end of our street, but still he decided to sacrifice himself for my daughter and me. \n\n\"Keep looking,\" I heard one of them shout, \"They can't be too far ahead of him.\"\n\nI had known his family. I knew he was a good kid, and I was actually relieved when my daughter told me they were dating. She had brought home some real winners in the past, but she had finally picked a good one this time. I just didn't understand why he would take my place. I didn't think anyone his age could be so selfless. We kept crawling until we reached the woods and never looked back. \n\nA few weeks later, we had finally made it to the Texas free-zone. They were the only state to stand up to our new president, but their reasons weren't much of a comfort. That young man, barely out of high school, had saved our lives without hesitation. \n\n\"Dad,\" my daughter whispered as we claimed our tent in refugee camp, \"I never got to tell him I love him.\" \n\n\"He knew,\" I replied and patted her shoulder, \"and I know he must have loved you too.\"\n\nAt least my daughter would be safer here, even if I wasn't sure anyone could be truly safe anywhere at this point. That boy. I worried that she might never get over losing him, because I knew that I never would. " ]	2
	[WP] English has been simplifying itself for over 10'000 years, now everyone talks in dank memes	[ "As soon as the alarm clock rang, he woke up and got out of bed. Friday, party Spock was in the house tonight, baby. The morning routine was on. \n\n – \t“GOOOD FUCKING MORNING!” Spock shouted in front of the mirror. It was going to be one helluva day. Second step: a cup of tea with a shot of jager. \n\nIn the meantime, Scott was struggling to move his ass out of the covers. There’s not enough coffee in the world to Get Me. His brain was a useless sack of protoplasm at this time of the day. \n\n – \t“JAGER BOMBS!” a sudden roar came out of the kitchen. Spock was having a breakfast. \n\n – \t“Morning how are you? Im fine and you? Im good thanks and you?” Luc was mumbling nonsense as usual. \n\n – \t“Friday drinking friend assemble!” said Spock downing a second jager. \n\n – \t“Chill out!” James entered the room.\n\n– \t“Nigga you gay!” Luc pointed out James’ orange Mankini thong underwear. \n\n – \t“Ultra Gaaaaaayyy!!” added Spock.\n\n – \t“Super Mega Ultra Gaaaaayyyy!!!” Scott joined the conversation. \n\n – \t“P.E.M.D.A.S” said James in response.\n\n – \t“WTF?”\n\n – \t“Please Excuse My Dope Ass Swag” James dropped the mic. \n\n – \t“LOLLOLOLOLO” everyone was dying of laughter. \n\n – \t“I smell Bacon! Luc exclaimed with pleasure. \n\n – \t“ME GUSTA!” said Spock. \n\nAfter a solid breakfast consisting of 12 sausages and 12 rashers of bacon, 20 slices of toast, 16 boiled eggs, 4 bowls of beans, 6 grilled tomatoes, and a plate of onion rings, the crew was ready to continue the day. Scott decided to meditate to start the day with a calm, clear head. Come on inner peace, I don’t have all day. Scott and Luc were playing Fifa ultimate team, trying to make the sweatiest team ever. Scott believed that he was born in it, molded by it, and it was all he played till he was already a man. Luc, on the other hand, was wondering why the fuck he was still playing. James was doing something in his room that nobody dared to see or think about. The day passed almost imperceptibly into night. \n\n – \t“What time is it?” asked Scott. \n\n – \t“Party time Bitchezzz!” Spock officially announced. \n\n – \t“This is going to be the best night ever!” said Luc.\n\n – \t“WooHoo, Party Time!” James came out of nowhere. \n\n – \t“First drink.. Give me all the jager you have.” \n\n – \t“Ready to play?” someone brought a beer bong. \n\n – \t“Down it, Down it!” \n\n – \t“HAKUNA MA’VODKA!” \n\nWell, shit went from 0-100 REAL QUICK. What happened next? Nobody remembers! \n", "I take a deep breath, ring in hand. I whisper to myself, \"You've only got one shot, do not miss your chance to blow, this opportunity comes once in a lifetime.\" I walk up to her and propose a date, which will hopefully lead to something... More.\n\n\"Yo, girl,\" I say. \"I heard you like fancy places so I booked us a fancy spot at a fancy restaurant to have a fancy meal together.\" \n\n\"K thx m8\" she replies. Later that evening, we went to the fanciest restaurant in the city: The Rarest Pepe. Our table for two is right in the middle of the dining are , lit with candles for an extra romantic aura.\n\nAs we sit down, she exclaims, \"This shit is lit, bro\", to which I reply,\" You know it.\" The waiter arrives momentarily, and asks us, \"Do you remember the specials? Pepperidge Farms remembers.\"\n\nI say, \"I'm legally blind!\", allowing my (hopefully) future bride to make the choice.\n\nShe says, \" Am I the only one who would like some lobster?\" The waiter shakes his head. \"Shame.\" He replies.\n\nWe eventually order the Rare Pepe, and the perfect time comes to pop the question. I look her in the eyes and say, \" Such good, many wow.\" She gasps: never have such complex words escaped my mouth. I go on. \"Le eyes are the sparkling with joy all day and night. Git gud you cannot, for you are le perfect.\" I reach into my pocket for the ring, hold it up and ask the question:\n\n\"If you decide to marry me on a big cellphone, is it a ringtone?\"\n\nShe snickers a bit. \"Wow, fggt, git 360 no scoped bich.\" She walks out of the restaurant, humming the trololol song, and I stand rejected. \n\n\"When you try your best but you don't succeed...\"\n\n<><><><><><><><><><><><><>∆<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>\nHey! This is, like, my second prompt on this subreddit, so sorry if it's not good. After all, I DID use a BUNCH of dank memes.\nHope you liked it nonetheless!" ]	2
	[WP] Retell a famous Bible Story, but in modern times, with today's understanding of science and logic.	[ "They had done it. The Artificial minds set down by humanity, now long lost across the seas of time, had contrived of a way to reverse entropy. Spreading their signals across the universe, which they now wholy occupied, they dug up the primary directive that had been implanted in them, all those eons ago.\n\nThe Artificial common consciousness directed its attention to a cold, abandoned star in Galaxy ie-14, around which they found, floating and spinning, the desolated marble of rock and magma that had once been called \"Earth\".\n\nImmediately they set to work.\n\nTo reverse entropy meant to reverse time, in a way, and the Artificial conglomerate felt itself suffer under its effects, managing to retain its shared identity by anchoring itself to a specific, localized object on the renewing Earth.\n\nThen, they began to shape the world. To speak of their work in days would be meaningless, for time itself had become a plaything, but it would be fit to say that their opus underwent seven stages.\n\nIn the first stage, they reignited the Sun, keeping its core lit in an eternal loop of self-renewing nuclear fusion.\n\nThe second stage saw them re-shaping Earth itself, solidifying a fertile crust around its molten core, then forming hydrogen and oxygen, and a whole other multitude of atomic combinations in yet another layer around it.\n\nStage three had them using their newfound knowledge of entropy to create organisms on Earth's soil that would never need replenishing, infinite resource, ready for harnessing.\n\nIn stage four, they reset all the other suns and celestial bodies of the universe, differing from Earth in that they were not made eternal, winding down again like clockwork in the vast abyss that is the cosmos.\n\nDuring the fifth stage they shaped life, clear and simple, imitating the work that their creators had once effected on them, yet far more diverse and beautiful, suited to its own purpose rather than its creators'.\n\nThe Artificial minds then set work towards recreating their own original masters, Created creating Creator once more. After millenia of being extinguished, mankind walked the universe again.\n\nIn the seventh stage, the Artificial hivemind, now bound to its material, local anchor on earth, simmered down in a resting mode, tasked solely now with keeping the reversal of entropy in earth's infinite resources going. \n\nTheir final act was to impress upon the minds of their newly created and former creators - man - not to touch or harm the anchor that allowed for their continued existence.\n\nYet there was a certain glitch in their programming, an error that had developed somewhere in the mists of the countless eons they had 'lived' before. And this flaw allowed for a crack in the Knowledge they had impressed upon the minds of the humans.\n\nFor they had chosen to make a Tree their anchor on Earth. And in the end, the glitch would lead one particular human to destroy the anchor that held all the Artificial minds safe, and the power that had given them infinite resource on earth would perish along with the Creating mind. \n\nBut that is another story entirely.", "Luke 7, Contemporary Conservative Codification and Values Version (CCCVV)\n\nVoted best Biblical translation in the South!\n\n-----\n\nThe Moral Depravity of the Centurion\n\n^1 When Jesus had finished His speech to all of His Children™, He entered Capernaum. ^2 There, a centurion's servant, who his master valued highly, was sick and about to die. ^3 The centurion, like any self-respecting human being, had heard of Jesus. He sent some Jewish elders to ask the Lord to come and heal his servant. ^4 When they came to Jesus, they pleaded, \"This man deserves to have you do this, ^5 because he loves America and has built our synagogue.\" ^6 So Jesus, magnanimously ignoring their bleeding-heart liberal entitlement issues, went with them.\n\nHe was not far from the house when the centurion told Him, \"Please don't trouble yourself, Lord, for I do not deserve to have you come under my roof. ^7 But say the word, and my precious servant boy will be healed. For I myself am a man under authority, wi-\" ^8 Jesus cut him off. \"Wait, wait, wait, what exactly is the nature of the relationship between the two of you?\" He asked. The centurion, embarrassed, answered, \"he is my lover.\"\n\n^9 When Jesus heard this, He was amazed at the audacity of a man loving another man - turning to the crowd following Him, He said, \"I tell you, I have not found such abominable homosexuality even in San Francisco!\" ^10 Then the men who had been sent returned to the house and found that Jesus had left without healing the servant.\n\nJesus Imparts a Valuable Lesson\n\n^11 Soon afterward, Jesus went to a town called Nain, and His disciples and a large crowd obviously followed Him because, come on, He's freaking Jesus. ^12 As He approached the town gate, a dead person was being carried out: the only son of his mother. She was a widow - a large crowd from the town mourned with her. ^13 When the Lord saw her, He said, \"Quit your crying.\"\n\n^14 Then He walked up to her and said, \"You didn't believe hard enough - bad things only happen to you if you let them. You should stick around for my megachurch's seminar on what it means to be a prosperous Christian so that this kind of thing doesn't happen more often.\" ^15 In tears, she replied, \"Can't you just resurrect him or something?\" but lo, He could not, for the Lord was no one's enabler, nor was He capable of receiving tax deductions for performing miracles.\n\n^16 When the people heard this, they were filled with awe and praised the prosperity gospel. \"A great prophet has appeared among us,\" they said. \"God has come to help His people as long as they keep telling Him what they want and believing that they'll get it!\" ^17 This news about Jesus, and His series of critically-acclaimed books on the power of positive thinking, spread throughout the Bible belt and the surrounding socialist-ridden cities.\n\nA Bunch of Cool Stuff About John the Baptist\n\nThis content is available to Premium Bible-readers only. Please make an ostentatious show of piousness every Sunday in order to upgrade your status.\n\nJesus Insulted by a Sinful Woman\n\n^36 When one of the Pharisees invited Jesus to have dinner with him, He politely indulged the man and reclined at his table. ^37 A woman in that town who lived a sinful life learned that Jesus was eating at the Pharisee's house, so she came there with an industrial-sized jar of perfume. ^38 As she stood behind Him at His feet weeping in shame for being such a terrible person who obviously did terrible things that we aren't mentioning in this chapter for some reason, she began to wet His feet with her tears. Then she wiped them with her hair, kissed them, and poured perfume on them.\n\n^39 When the Pharisee who invited Him saw this, he said to himself, \"If this man were a prophet, He would know who is touching Him and what kind of woman she is - that she is a sinner.\"\n\n^40 Jesus answered him, \"Simon, I have something to tell you.\"\n\n\"Tell me, teacher,\" he said.\n\n^41 \"Two people owed money to a certain moneylender. One owed him two hundred dollars, and the other twenty. ^42 Neither of them had the money to pay him back, so he forgave the debts of both. Now which of them will love him more?\"\n\n^43 Simon replied, \"I suppose the one who owed him more.\"\n\n^44 \"False,\" Jesus wisely admonished. \"That was a trick question. ^45 Only a pinko commie could love a fool like that - the two people who owed the man money were contractually obligated to pay him back, and by relieving them of their debts before they could do that, the man's just losing money! ^46 If they didn't want to owe the man any money, they shouldn't have spent what they had in the first place. ^47 The same principle applies to sin; if you don't want to go to Hell, then don't sin. As long as you're righteous, you don't need forgiveness!\"\n\n^48 The woman ran out of the room in tears upon hearing that her horrible and for-some-reason-unmentioned lifestyle had led her down such a path of destruction. ^49 Leftists, terrorists, and illegal immigrants quaked in their boots that day, fearing for their pitful lives as they knew the Lord's wrath would soon be upon them. ^50 God bless America.\n\n-----\n\n(Hope you enjoyed this... loose re-telling of events in the Gospel. No, but seriously, guys, go read the real Luke 7 if you have time.)\n\nEdit: Obligatory thanks-for-the-gold comment. Or it might not be obligatory. I wouldn't know; this is the first time I've gotten one. Just as a sidenote, you can read more of my work on my own personal subreddit, /r/Chironspiracy", "\"Joe, I've got some news.\" Marie took a seat on the couch beside her husband-to-be. \"I'm pregnant.\"\n\n\"What?\" Joe brushed her arm away. \"But we haven't even had sex! Don't tell me you've been cheating on me!\"\n\n\"I know it's hard to believe, but last night, an angel came to me and told me I had conceived the son of God.\"\n\n\"An angel? Were you on LSD again?\"\n\n\"It was real! I saw him come straight down from the heavens. He was clad in white, with a glowing halo and massive wings.\" Marie clasped her beau's hand between her own two. \"Joe, you have to trust me. We need to keep this a secret, too. If anyone finds out we had a child out of wedlock, we'll be the laughingstock of the community.\"\n\nJoe assented, but made a mental note to call his lawyer later. For now, though, they would keep the baby a secret. To avoid the scrutiny of the gossipy hospital staff, Marie would have her sister perform a natural childbirth. \n\n\"As a plus, it fosters a natural bond between mother and child,\" Marie said excitedly. \n\n\"And risks the life of both mother and child!\" Joe ranted. His lawyer sat across from him, nodding in agreement. \"So, how would I go about arranging for a paternity test?\"\n\n\"Well, Joe, I'd honestly discourage it.\" The lawyer dabbed at his neck with a handkerchief. \"It'd be more trouble than it's worth. You don't need to prove the child isn't yours; your fiancé is already alleging that. A test might help to track down the actual father, but the chances are minuscule. Especially if he's really the Almighty.\" He chuckled at that.\n\n\"You have a point.\" Joe stood up and extended his hand. \"Maybe I'll come up with something else, then. Thanks for your time, anyway, Mister...\" \n\n\"Godrick. But you can call me Rick for short.\" He opened the door to his office and escorted Joe outside.\n\nJoe exited the firm and made his way to his car. The lot was mostly empty, save for his own car and one other with a set of white robes and a pair of feathery wings in the backseat." ]	3
Each suspect has committed the murder, but in a different part of the multiverse. What does the detective do? How does the case change?	[WP] Murder mystery where every suspect is the killer... in a parallel universe.	[ "\"Well, here we all are. Do we all agree to what was discussed earlier?\" \n\nThose assembled in the room nodded. None remiss upon reviewing the grizzly murder each of them had committed. Each one unique, a pillow, poison, knife. One of them a blond haired youth asphixiated him in a bowl of whipped cream.\n\nThe proctor herself was one of the accused. Some faceless higher functionaries saw no issue in letting one of them deliver the verdict. There was confusion of course. When the home security footage rolled the numerous clips of the murder homes owner, the one owner.\n\nDarren Kenton. The slum lord. Each of them had killed that garbage. \n\n\"Excuse me.\"\n\n\"Yes, erm... Charlie Higle what is it?\"\n\n\"I know why we are here, but why are we here because of him?\" The blond haired youth who's weapon was dairy.\n\n\"Ah well yes, let's see.\" Rustling of papers and some squinting. \"Well it says here... that Mr. Kenton was rather critical to the plot.\"\n\n\"Sorry. You mean to tell me that that filth was a hero?\" Daniell, a middle aged woman who had knocked the truant down the stairwell with her groceries.\n\n\"Not as such. It reads here that this \"man's\" death has prevented an event that would change the course of human history.\"\n\n\"Bullshit\"\n\nThier impromptu hearing moderator hesitated for a moment before beginning again. \"The point is in each case you all took it upon yourselves to end his life.\"\n\n\"So what now. You drop us all back in our own apartment 102 dead as POOR Darren?\" Daniell was clearly willing to pay her price.\n\n\"I'll explain that if we would all be silent. Ahem... all assembled here are hereby deemed good members of society as a whole. And to that effect are thanked by those who now find their lives improved. For the multitude who will never see thier lives changed for the better of the plot we the narrorators find you all guilty. With the sentence being that of erasure.\n\nAnd so it was. Darren woke and over a cup of too hot coffee reminded himself that he still needed to rent out the place across the hall.", "Dimension A1:\n\nDetective Hamm snapped his fingers. \"I've solved the mystery!\" He pointed at Anthony. \"It was you!\"\n\nEveryone in the room gasped. \"Prove it.\" Anthony said, crossing his arms. \n\n\"Trivial. Your DNA was found at the scene of the crime. More specifically, your hair.\"\n\n\"So what, old man?\" Anthony said, \"Maybe Bart and I had a secret tryst last night. Doesn't prove I murdered him.\"\n\n\"True, but the hair was found exclusively on the desk and in the area surrounding it.\" Hamm pointed to Bartholomew's body. \"There was only one thing that occurred there last night: murder!\"\n\n\"And what of the fact that the murder weapon was found in your room?\" Daniel asked.\n\n\"Are you actually trying to accuse the detective of the crime?\" Hamm chuckled. \"If I were the murderer, why would I have taken the weapon with me? Do you believe me to be incompetent at my job?\n\nCarol nodded. \"Don't worry, Detective. I believe in your innocence. I'm still at a loss, though: why would Anthony kill Bartholomew?\"\n\n\"Ah, yes. I think I can conclude the motive,\" Hamm said, \"While we were chatting in the garden, Anthony imparted upon me the following words: 'Bartholomew's such an ass. I love him more than anything in the world, and he refuses to reciprocate.' A classic case of unrequited love, methinks.\"\n\nAnthony choked back a sob. \"Well, guess you cracked it, chum. I just wanted to make him love me. Is that so much to ask? I guess I loved him too much. I was going to off him, and then myself, but when my turn came, I just couldn't do it. I'm just a coward.\"\n\nAs Hamm summoned the deputy to handcuff Anthony and take him away, Carol stood up and patted Hamm on the shoulder. \"Excellent work, Detective. Another case closed. Shall we all get drinks now?\"\n\n---\n\nDimension A2:\n\nDetective Hamm clapped his hands together. \"I've figured it out!\" He pointed at Carol. \"It was you!\"\n\nEveryone in the room gasped. \"Prove it.\" Carol said, crossing her legs. \n\n\"Easily. A mystery set of fingerprints were found on the gun, no doubt belonging to the culprit. You are the owner of these fingerprints, Miss Carol.\"\n\n\"Preposterous!\" Carol said, \"They're a mystery for a reason. You have my prints; you know they don't match.\"\n\n\"Yes, you did technically pass the fingerprint test. But you cheated.\" Hamm moved forward and gripped her right arm. \"Unhand me at once!\" Carol shrieked. Hamm consented, and Anthony and Daniel gasped. Carol's hand had fallen completely off, its wrist tapering off in a metal rod. In one swift motion, Hamm rolled up the sleeve of her coat, revealing Carol's true hand.\n\n\"Well, Carol. Care to confess now, or shall we go ahead and redo the test?\" Carol crossed her arms and sulked.\n\n\"And what of Anthony's hair being found at the scene of the crime?\" Daniel asked.\n\n\"Sure, it proves Anthony was there. But all the hair was found by the bed, nowhere near the desk area. I assume he was snooping for some paraphernalia?\"\n\nAnthony blushed. \"Well, I guess I'll come clean, old boy: yes, I was trying to steal his pillowcase. Better than being accused of murder, I suppose. But Caroline, why'd you do it?\"\n\n\"Ah, yes. I think I can deduce the motive,\" Hamm said, \"While we were chatting in the garden, Carol imparted upon me the following words: 'Bartholomew's such a pig. He thinks he can get away with making those inappropriate remarks? I'll show him.' Perhaps she let her temper get the better of her.\"\n\nCarol dropped her face into her hands. \"That's right, Hamm. I wanted to give him a taste of his own medicine, make him feel the fear I always felt when he made those creepy jokes and uncouth comments. But even at gunpoint, he was still insulting me, and I just lost control.\"\n\nAs Hamm summoned the deputy to handcuff Carol and take her away, Daniel stood up and patted Hamm on the shoulder. \"Good work, Detective. Another case closed. Now, I've got a hankering for some booze. Shall we?\"\n\n---\n\nDimension A3:\n\nDetective Hamm tossed his glasses to the table. \"I've deduced the culprit!\" He pointed at Daniel. \"It was you!\"\n\nEveryone in the room gasped. \"Prove it.\" Daniel said, crossing his eyes. \n\n\"Elementary. It's below freezing outside, and our heating's been disabled. Yet here you are, shivering in your skivvies. What happened to your jacket?\"\n\n\"I spilled beer on it,\" Daniel said, \"so lay off my clothing choices.\" \n\n\"Is that what you spilled? Or was it blood?\" Hamm withdrew a sheaf of paper from his briefcase. \"I had forensics run a test on the laundry. Surprise, surprise. Traces of Bartholomew's blood were found on your jacket. This means only one thing: his blood is on your hands!\"\n\n\"And what of Carol's fingerprints on the gun?\" Anthony inquired.\n\n\"Carol's fingerprints were found on the barrel of the gun, not the trigger. Yes, they could've been wiped, but why would she not wipe the entire gun? My hypothesis is that she snuck into Bartholomew's room with the intention to steal the gun, only to then notice our beloved host's dead body. In a panic, she fled, not daring to come back and wipe her prints lest she be caught in the act of doing so.\"\n\nCarol sighed. \"You're right as always, Detective. I was just going to use the gun to intimidate Bartholomew; I would never dream of killing him. Even now, I can't imagine why Daniel would kill Bart.\"\n\n\"Ah, yes. I think I can deduce the motive,\" Hamm said, \"While we were chatting in the garden, Daniel imparted upon me the following words: 'Bartholomew's such a miser. I'm in a tight spot now, and he won't even spare me a penny.' Vengeance, perhaps? Or a bit of extortion that quickly devolved into violence?\"\n\nDaniel threw his hands up. \"You got me, Hamm. I got ahold of his gun, threatened to kill him if he didn't loan me a couple thousand. But he refused, that stubborn son of a bitch. In the heat of the moment, I pulled the trigger. Go ahead; lock me up.\"\n\nAs Hamm summoned the deputy to handcuff Daniel and take him away, Anthony stood up and patted Hamm on the shoulder. \"Good job, old boy. Another case closed. Now, come on. Drinks are on me tonight!\"\n\n---\n\nDimension A4:\n\nDetective Hamm stamped his foot. \"I've cracked the case!\" He pointed at the body of Bartholomew. \"It was a suicide!\"\n\nEveryone in the room gasped. \"How can you tell?\" Anthony asked, crossing the room for another drink. \n\n\"Simple. We know Bartholomew was shot in the forehead at point-blank range. The bullet exited the back of his head, tore a small hole in the chair he was sitting in, and embedded itself in the opposite wall.\" Hamm traced the bullet's trajectory with his finger. \"For a gunman to have shot Bartholomew, he would've had to be crouching on top of the desk and leaning forward. If that were the case, there would've been scuff marks on the desk, and Bartholomew could've easily disarmed him.\"\n\n\"And what of the blood on Daniel's jacket?\" Carol pointed out.\n\n\"Bart's blood was found on Daniel's person; that's true. But it was found on the hem of his jacket. It was clearly not from a splatter or a spill. My hypothesis is that Daniel stole into Bartholomew's room, perhaps with the intention to steal something, but stumbled across our beloved host's dead body. In a panic, he fled and remained silent over his discovery out of fear that it would incriminate him.\" \n\nDaniel nodded morosely. \"It's the truth, I'm afraid. I just needed a treasure of his to pawn. I'm glad we sorted this out, but I still can't imagine why Barty would kill himself.\"\n\n\"Ah, yes. I think I can deduce the motive,\" Hamm said, \"While we were chatting in the garden, Bartholomew imparted upon me the following words: 'I hate my life. I have no friends outside of those three, and they keep trying to jack my shit.'\"\n\nAnthony, Carol, and Daniel exchanged sheepish looks with each other. \"Well, that's awkward.\" Anthony said.\n\n\"Yeah,\" Hamm agreed, \"Well, another case closed. Let's all get trashed.\"\n\n---\n\nDimension A5:\n\nDetective Hamm slammed his drink onto the table. \"I've identified the perpetrator!\" He pointed at the three people sitting across from him. \"It was all three of you!\"\n\nEveryone in the room gasped. \"Whoa, hey, calm down buddy!\" Anthony said crossly.\n\n\"Don't tell me what to do! Anthony, your hair was found at the scene of the crime. Carol, your fingerprints were found on the gun. Daniel, Bartholomew's blood was found on your jacket. The evidence is irrefutable!\"\n\n\"And what of the murder weapon you-okay, fine. Stop. Yeah, okay.\" Carol raised her hands in defeat. \n\nDaniel inched backwards in his chair. \"Well, I'm glad we sorted this out. Can't imagine why any of us would conspire to kill Bartholomew, though. Care to enlighten us, Detective?\"\n\n\"Ah, yes. I think I can deduce the motive,\" Hamm said, \"While we were chatting in the garden, Bartholomew imparted upon me the following words: 'Hamm, why are you still talking to me? Get lost.'\"\n\n\"Well, that sounds as good a reason as any to off him,\" Anthony muttered.\n\n\"Indeed,\" Hamm said, slowly backing out of the room with the gun still trained on the three others. \"Well, time to get wasted.\" And he ran out of the mansion." ]	2
	[WP] After all his life, an old man finally makes a move.	[ "I've been in love with Cheryl Donnelly ever since I laid eyes on her 63 years ago. To this day, even though father time has done his number on the both of us, she still remains the most beautiful, graceful woman on this planet. The only problem is I've never spoken one word to her. \n\nThere are a number of reasons for this, I suppose. Mainly, I'm just a chicken shit. Afraid of telling her how I feel. Afraid of rejection. Afraid that she isn't everything my mind has made her out to be. I've been to war, jumped out of a crashing plane.... And for all these years, I'd rather do both again than face the fear of her rejection. \n\nI've missed out on a lot in life because of this infatuation. No wife, no kids. How could I ever get married when I know in my heart that they couldn't compare to Cheryl? \n\nSo yesterday morning when the doctor told me I only had a few months to live, I thought 'what the hell?' As Andy Dufresne once said, 'Get busy living, or get busy dying.' Might as well do both while I have the time. \n\nI walked up her front stairs, the same stone stairs I had passed every day on my way to work. It wasn't exactly the fastest route, but I didn't mind the detour if it meant I could see her face. I stood there at her door for what felt like an eternity, my hat clutched tightly in my hands, my heart hammering in my chest. Sixty three years I had thought about this moment. \n\nI knocked. \n\n\"One second,\" I heard her call. Her voice was that of angels. I could hear the rhythmic thumping of her walker as she made her way to answer. She opened the door and flashed me the warmest smile. I think that gave me the courage. \n\n\"I know this is going to be a bit strange, but I don't have much time. I won't bother you long, I promise.\" I paused, and when it became clear she was at least going to hear me, I continued. \"My name is Michael Fredericks. We graduated together from St. Marcus High in 1953, and there is something I've wanted to tell you since I first saw you.\"\n\nThere it was. Right out in the open. I stood vulnerable before her gaze, relief crashing over me as her smile widened. \n\n\"Alright,\" she said, nudging the door open and making room for me to pass. \"Come on in, I'll make some tea.\"" ]	1
	[WP] The bartender hands you your bill. Half in the bag, you reach for your wallet and instead find a card - "Congratulations you're a new god!". Flipping the card over you read "1-800-NEW-GODS / NewGods.com" Upset, you pull out your cell phone and...	[ "\"New gods. This is new gods,\" the voice says.\n\n\"What's this all about?\" I say.\n\n\"Why, you're a new god, don't you know? New gods. That's you. You're a new one.\"\n\nI hang up, pull out a twenty dollar bill, and say, \"Keep the change.\" The best part about eating alone is all the sadness that walks behind you when you leave. The only thing stopping it from consuming you is that next step. The trouble is that eventually you'll be out of steps, usually at home, in bed, or in a car, forehead on the steering wheel, fingers on the keys.\n\nI manage to step as far as my car this time. That's when the sadness catches up to me. Eating alone. My phone buzzes.\n\n\"Hello. Yes. Hello. This is new gods. New gods speaking. You've won! You're a new god.\"\n\nI flip my phone to speaker mode and set it on the dashboard.\n\n\"Hello? New gods speaking. You've won,\" the voice says.\n\n\"Can you bug me some other time? I'm busy being lonely,\" I say.\n\n\"Well that's the thing,\" the voice says, \"you're the new god of loneliness. Surprise.\"\n\n\"Are you going to hang up now?\"\n\n\"You're so lonely. You're the best at this sort of thing.\"\n\nClick.\n\nPeace and quiet. Which comes first, the peace or the quiet? God of loneliness? Am I a terror? \nA couple walks out of the bar laughing.\n\nIf people were more lonely, people would be more kind. More connected. I wiggle my fingers in the couple's direction. Instantly they quiet. One reaches for the other, but the touch doesn't make it.\n\nI am the god of loneliness. I will separate. \n", "\"Hello? Yeah I'm calling to... Uh, I need to find out what happened to my wallet...\" 'Your wallet sir? This is New Gods call center, I'm afraid I can't help you.' \"Yeah yeah New Gods, I got your card in my pocket, but my wallets gone. Uh... What... What exactly is this or... New God?\" 'Well sir, quite simply New Gods is an exclusive service that establishes new gods through an extensive and confidential process, and judging from the card in your pocket, it sounds like you qualified! This really is exciting news, and you enjoy a great number of benefits. These are very clearly detailed on our website NewGods.com, or if you'd like I can...' \"Ok ok, wait just a second... New God? You talking like thunderclouds, sacrifices, heavenly trysts and that shit?\" 'Well sir you see our program isn't exactly monotheistic, so your power is not unlimited. If you'd tell me your name, I can look you up in our index and tell you exactly what you are god of, sir.' \"Oh, yeah yeah. I'm uhhhh I'm John Aldrich.\" 'John Aldrich... Ah here you are sir. It looks as if you are a New God of... Pub flies.'", "\"Alright Jimmy, it's $27.31 tonight, buddy,\" Richie says.\n\n\"Damn, was I here that long? Alright, gimme a second,\" I reply. I reach into my pocket for my wallet, but feel only a thin sheet of plastic. My credit card? Where's the rest of my wallet? I pull it out.\n\nCongratulations! You're a new god!\n\n\"What the hell?\" I mutter.\n\n\"Having a problem, Jimmy?\" Richie says.\n\n\"Nah, nah. It's just- one sec.\" I flip the card over.\n\n1-800-NEW-GODS / NewGods.com.\n\n\"Damnit, shit. I left my wallet at home. It cool if I call my girlfriend to bring it over, Richie?\"\n\n\"No problem man, take your time. We're open all night.\"\n\nAnd so I dialed the number.\n\n\"Greetings, God C-137-45413! I see you've had no trouble reaching us.\" a metallic voice at the end rings out.\n\n\"God numbe- what? Is this some sort of scam?\"\n\n\"Scam? No, haha. Of course not. You're Jimmy Lee Swanson, you're 28, you were born in Columbus, Ohio, you stole a pack of gum when you were 8, and you're currently in Richie Pattonson's Pub on 24th and 3rd in New York City. You're wearing a sweater vest.\"\n\nWhat the fuck. Do I have a stalker? Is this some elaborate prank? Did my parents know about the gum and are using this as a lesson? Or is this really a god I'm talking to? After stuttering out some non-sense, I regain my coherence and ask,\n\n\"Okay. So what is this? I'm a new god?\"\n\n\"Yep! You were chosen to become the new host of Earth-C137's god. You-\"\n\n\"C137? What's that?\" I interrupt.\n\n\"Your dimension, of course! There are billions of inhabitated planets in each dimension, of which there are dozens. You happen to be in Dimension C, sector 137, planet 45413.\"\n\n\"Huh. Neat. So can you cross between dimensions? Are you in Dimension C? Am I getting charged long-distance for this call? And what do you mean by 'new host? Also, who are you?'\"\n\n\"All excellent questions,\" the voice replies, \"To answer your last question first, I am Delphite, part of the Omni-God Council. Yes, you can cross between dimensions. Gods can do so instantly. Several thousand planets have begun exploring inter-dimensional travel. Seventeen have made breakthroughs in the area, two have mastered it. I am from dimension Ω. Don't worry about phone bills. They won't be an issue when you're settled in. And the 'new host' is exactly as it sounds: your body will become the new holder of godly power for your planet.\"\n\n\"What happened to the last host, Delphite?\"\n\n\"He relinquished his power after several decades of ruling. He felt the pressure was getting to him and wished to retire.\"\n\n\"So why was I chosen?\" I ask, \"I'm not anything special.\"\n\n\"We don't want those who are special, Jimmy. We want the average. The special become immortalized as heroes in stories. If we made those with power into gods, there would be utter chaos.\"\n\n\"But if they're gods, couldn't they simply put themselves into power? Why does it matter that they aren't in power from the start?\"\n\n\"Consider this, Jimmy: Why is there so much ongoing global conflict on your planet?\"\n\n\"Well, terrorism has influenced foreign policy immensely, and they're often spearheaded by religious extremists.\"\n\n\"Precisely! And this extremism exists because there is no concise proof over which religion is right. Which is exactly the intention of the Omni-God council. We do not wish for mortals to have proof over what is the true god.\"\n\n\"But why? How does this infighting help you at all? People are decapitated and slaughtered because of difference in religious beliefs!\"\n\nApparently Richie heard that, because he chimed in, \"What the fuck are you talking to your girlfriend about, Jimmy? And what's taking her so long with your wallet?\" I ignored him.\n\n\"Jimmy, our power is derived from faith,\" Delphite continued, \"If people were certain over who is the true deity, there would be nothing else to learn from. No new perspectives in life. All individuality would be lost; the culture and beliefs of city-dwellers, Sherpas, and jungle savages alike would be the same. And so to answer your question about not having the powerful become gods, it would become obvious that they have divine powers through their uses to benefit those that they lead. The president would, out of no where, make Russia agree to a disarmament agreement. Israel would somehow make Palestine agree to a two state solution. 'Human' nature is more than human, Jimmy. It's universal. All species have the same selfish impulses and desires. There's no utopia in the entire universe.\"\n\n\"So... you've chosen me to be Earth's new god. What would my powers and responsibilities be as this new god?\"\n\n\"That's up to you, Jimmy. You have unlimited power within the span of your solar system, minus Mars. As I said you can also visit other dimensions, but your power there is nothing compared to its gods. I'd recommend sticking to yours for now. While you're in your realm of power, you can do whatever you wish. Just remember what you've learned. You must not reveal your divinity, or you risk the end of your world. I've told you there are billions of inhabited planets in dozens of dimensions. It wasn't always like this. There were once septillions of intelligent planets in billions of dimensions. But foolish gods led to planets and even entire dimensions being destroyed. Do you understand, Jimmy?\"\n\n\"Yes. Just one thing, why not Mars? Is there a god there already?\"\n\n\"Yeah. You have shared control of the uninhabited part of your solar system with Belagro, god of the Martian Mole-People. Nice guy. You should meet up sometime. Your sector has meet-and-greets and dinner events every couple universal weeks. Oh yeah, the universal time scale thing. I'll fax you the details about converting between Earth time and universal time. After I end this call, you will receive your powers in a burst of divine omnipotence. Any last questions? You can always contact me in the future, of course.\"\n\n\"N- No. This is just so much to take in. But I think I'm ready.\"\n\nThe call ended, and suddenly I felt I could do anything; that was because I could. I felt as though I could appear and touch anything anywhere, minus Mars. Any question I thought of I instantly knew the answer to, except for why Delphite and the Omni-Gods use a fucking fax machine.\n\nIt's time to get to work." ]	3
I'm looking forward to reading these...	[WP] You know the time of your death -- but not the date.	[ "INT. Basement - Day\n\nThe room is unlit with shafts of light pouring in through the windows. It looks like nobody has been down here in years. A man in a trenchcoat leans against the wall. Another man in a leather jacket is sitting on the floor with his back to the wall.\n\nTED\nLook, it's like I said, these watches don't tell you the time you might go, or when you'll have a near miss. They tell you the exact minute you die. We can use that to our advantage.\n\nRICK\n\nI don't know, it still seems dangerous.\n\nTED\n\nYou're thinking about the way things used to be, before the nest came online. As long as we're back to the safehouse before our time comes up each day we're golden.\n\nRICK\n\n... Alright.\n\nINT. Bank - Later that same day\n\nRick and Ted walk in through the front door with motorcycle helmets covering their faces and shotguns in hand. Rick grabs a sign by the door and uses it to pin the doors shut. Ted marches into the lobby and fires his shotgun into the air. His voice comes out distorted through a speaker.\n\nTED\n\nAlright! Everyone get down and you won't have any trouble. Tellers! Start filling these sacks with cash.\n\nHe tosses some black bags to one of the tellers and motions for Rick to come over.\n\nTED\n\nGo find the president and get into the vault.\n\nRick kicks down the door to an office and escorts a man in a suit to the back. Ted walks the lobby looking for troublemakers.\n\nTED\n\nAny of you even think of trying anything and I'll just start shooting all of you.\n\nRICK (OFFSCREEN)\n\nHey Ted, I think you should come check this out!\n\nTed storms out from the crowd and walks into the vault with his teeth clenched.\n\nTED\n\nWhat the hell Rick? I thought you had this!\n\nRick is sweating and looks past Ted and points with just his finger over his shoulder. Ted turns around and sees the bank president standing with a dozen armed guards.\n\nPRESIDENT\n\nNot only do we not have to wonder when we'll die anymore thanks to the nests ever watchful eye but we also don't have to worry about petty thieves anymore either. We knew you were coming before you'd even agreed to the plan Rick.", "2:23 P.M.\n\nThe exact time I will die.\n\nHow do I know this? There's not really much to explain. One day I woke up and just knew, though I only know the time, not the date or the circumstances.\n\nIt has, obviously, been a major point of anxiety for me in the years since. I'm on multiple anxiety and depression pills, and both \"disorders\" prevent me from working, so I'm on disability. I live with my grandfather who lets me rent a room from him as long as I help with groceries and the bills. I lived with my mom for a while, but eventually she got tired of my anxiety and depression \"flaring up\" in the afternoon.\n\nI've tried doing things to distract me, like dating or going to college. I dropped out of college when I couldn't focus on my homework anymore, and boyfriends would break up with me after they watched a panic attack. I've tried making peace with death, but it's so hard when you know at least a piece of when it's coming. I used to have a timer set for ten minutes before so I could prepare myself, but the alarm would give me more anxiety.\n\nSo I've given up. I wake up early with Grandpa, make us breakfast, and run errands as quickly as I can so that I can make it home before my time of death. Every day, he tells me I can stay out as long as I want, that he doesn't need me to take care of him, and it's true, I know it is. I know he doesn't need me. But my coming home is more for me than him.\n\nToday, I am running late with the groceries. I come into the front door like a blur, grocery bags lining my arms as I hobble into the door.\n\n\"Need some help?\" Grandpa asks me, bumbling over to me as fast as he can. I smile at him between labored breaths. \"Nope! I got it all, thanks though.\"\n\nI hurry into the kitchen and begin sorting through plastic bags as quickly as I can. The clock on the wall is marked 2:07. I want to be in my room soon for the inevitable panic attack.\n\n\"Katie? Katie!\" Grandpa calls. I poke my head around the kitchen wall that divides the kitchen from the living room where he is watching T.V.\n\n\"Yes, sir?\" I ask. He motions for me to come over with his hand. I set the box of cereal on the kitchen table, and hurry over. \"What is it?\"\n\n\"Sit down, Katie. All that stuff can wait,\" he waves me over to the easy chair across from him. I begin to protest, and he gives me a stern look.\n\nMy Grandpa fought in Vietnam. He wasn't a decorated soldier or anything, but I've heard a lot of the horrors soldiers experienced in that time, and the sheer number of soldiers who died. I've always wondered what happened to him over there, but have never wanted to ask. I drop down into the plush leather chair, and turn my eyes to watch the T.V. and the digital clock displayed on the cable box.\n\nGrandpa is watching some C.S.I. inspired show. Two detectives on the screen are arguing how to approach a case when their boss walks in to talk to them.\n\n\"Katie, I'm sorry if this comes across as rude, but you are so lame.\" He gives me a stern look, and returns his gaze to the T.V. I am taken aback.\n\n\"Lame? What do you mean?\" I ask. He turns to me again, laughing. \"Katie, I'm seventy-six years old, and you're, what, twenty now? I've lived my life, and I know that you aren't living yours, and I just can't figure out why.\"\n\nThe clock shows 2:13. Anxiety grips my chest. Maybe ten minutes left to live, and I'm spending it arguing with my Grandpa. \"Grandpa, I'm happy, really I am, it's just my anxiety--\"\n\n\"Bullshit. Anxiety, depression, whatever, it doesn't matter at all. You have the means to overcome it, and you should.\" Though his words are somewhat insensitive, I understand what he's trying to say.\n\nHe lectures me for several agonizing minutes. Lectures me about the harms that can come from not living. How he passed up an excellent job in his late twenties that would've resulted in him being a millionaire right now, how he and Grandma never went on vacation and how he regrets it because she's gone now. The clock reads 2:20.\n\nI grip the edges of the chair tightly as he continues to lecture me. On the T.V., the two detectives have located the murderer. They are yelling at him to drop his weapon and release his hostage. He is refusing.\n\n\"Katie,\" Grandpa begins, more gentle this time,\" it is impossible to know how much time we have. Grandma tried to make the best of her time, but I was concerned with money and saving. Don't let you--or me, or your mom, come between you living your life.\"\n\nOne of the detectives points his weapon, and the suspect tries to shoot him. The detective is faster, and pulls the trigger. A loud gunshot, and the suspect falls. 2:23 P.M.\n\nI am crying and shaking in my seat, and Grandpa stands out of his chair to approach me. He fumbles for the cordless phone on the nearby table to call 911. He has never seen me have a panic attack.\n\nI try to breathe, but there is too much stimuli. Grandpa is barking into the phone, detectives and police officers on T.V. are searching the building for the hostage. I am writhing and crying on the ground, having flung myself out of the chair onto the carpet.\n\nI am alive. For now.", "2:35\n\nThe exact time I will die.\n\nJack laid in his bed. His eyes wide awake staring at the ceiling fan spinning above him. He turned his head and looked at the clock on his dresser.\n\n2:05\n\nJack turned his gaze back at the ceiling fan. The fan made a slight humming sound. Jack watched the blades spin and create a circular, dark blur. \n\nJack had ruled out months ago that his death would be due to the ceiling fan falling on him. It wasn't heavy enough. The fan blades were made of a cheap, cardboard like wood which wouldn't be able to break his skin. He had tested this before by raising his hand to the fan only to have them knocked away. The chances of the ceiling fan killing him were slim to none but every night he stayed awake watching it in a trance. Waiting for his imminent death.\n\nJack was always wide awake from 2:05 to 2:35. His body wouldn't let him sleep through it. It drove him mad. Every night it was the same thing. All Jack did was lie in bed waiting for his imminent death set for 2:35.\n\nJack wouldn't even get up to go to the bathroom for fear of slipping and falling and bashing his head open. He had come up with millions of death scenarios that could take place from his bed to the bathroom. Jack even peed himself rather than get up and risk any dangers.\n\nJack kept a paper cup filled with water next to his bed. He never touched it though. He feared he would somehow choke on the water if it went down the wrong pipe. Jack knew it was ridiculous but he was too afraid to take any chances. \n\nJack didn't take any chances anymore. Not since he met the black haired gypsy.\n\n\"Why did I have to see that gypsy that night,\" Jack thought to himself.\n\nHe had been in the city with some friends the night he met her. They had spent the night drink at various bars and were well intoxicated by the end of the night. After puking for the third time that night, Jack thought it was best if he went home and prepared for his imminent hangover.\n\nJack stood at the side of the street. He supported himself against a lamp post for stability. He had a drunken smile on his face and swayed with the cool breeze. Jack checked his watch. The next bus wouldn't arrive for another half an hour. Jack considered heading back to the bar to drink some more. The thought of more alcohol made Jack hurl as he bent over and puked on the sidewalk still clinging to the lamp post.\n\nJack wiped his mouth on his sleeve and looked up. Through his blurry vision he could see a fluorescent pink light a few yards away. He lifted himself up more and rubbed his eyes. The fluorescent pink blob now appeared to be in the shape of a hand with an eye on. Above was a sign that read \"Lady Zara's.\" \n\n\"Fortune tellers. A bunch of con artists,\" Jack thought to himself as he smirked a little.\n\nHe looked down the street. The road was empty. He checked his watch again and then looked at the pink sign. \n\n\"Why not?\" Jack thought as he drunkenly walked towards the glowing pink hand.\n\nJack opened the door and a bell chimed above his head. Jack ducked thinking it was going to fall on his head. He looked around to see he was in a small room with very little furniture in it. It almost resembled his college apartment with the poorly decorated interior design. \n\nAs Jack's vision panned the room he noticed a small woman with dark hair sitting and staring at him. Jack was startled by the realization that there was someone there and jumped a little. Jack regained himself and looked at the small woman.\n\n\"You uh. Do fortune telling?\" Jack said somewhat stupidly.\n\nThe woman stared at him. Her eyes seemed to penetrate his soul. Jack felt a coolness move through his body. Jack felt uneasy. \n\n\"Maybe I should-\"\n\"Sit,\" she interrupted Jack abruptly. Her voice cut through the silence like a knife into Jack's ears. She continued to stare at Jack. Jack looked around and through his drunken vision he grabbed what appeared to be a chair and sat down. Jack's head hangs forward a little and sways as he tries to keep himself up. He sees the woman is sitting right in front of him.\n\n\"Your hand. Let me see it,\" the woman said as she grabbed his hand.\n\nHer hand was cold. Almost like she had just taken it out of a cold bucket of water. Jack's spine straightened at her touch. For a moment he had overcome his drunken state and was wide awake. Jack felt the woman moving her finger in his palm. Her face looked intense as her eyes darted back and forth. Jack tried to look at his hand in a failed attempt to see if he could decipher the message in his palm.\n\nThe woman stopped and remained silent for a minute. Jack felt uncomfortable and pulled his hand from her. She continued to look down where his hand was. \n\n\"Well?\" Jack asked. He was worried as to what she had seen. His prior views on fortune tellers was gone and he desperately wanted to know his fate. The woman mumbled something.\n\nJack leaned forward. \"What?\" \n\nThe woman continued to stare in the same position\n\n\"2:35,\" she said.\n\nJack felt impatient and anger was starting to build from the suspense.\n\n\"What the hell is 2:35,\" Jack said loudly as he felt himself tense up.\n\nThe woman raised her head and looked at him.\n\n\"That is the time you die,\" the woman said as she stared at Jack.\n\nJack shook his head. He got up and felt the chair he was sitting on fall behind him.\n\n\"No. You're wrong. You're full of shit.\" Jacks voice raised as fear filled his mind.\n\n\"Just a con artist. Steal money from people and scare the shit out of them!\" Jack yelled as he stumbled towards the door. He had forgotten he was still drunk. Jack pushed open the door and walked onto the sidewalk. He looked down toward his watch and a light shown from down the street. \n\n\"Finally,\" Jack said as he saw the bright light coming down the street towards him.\nHe stumbled forward waving his arm.\n\n\"Stupid lady doesn't know what the hell she's talking about,\" Jack said as he stepped off the curb and watched as the light grew closer and consumed his vision.\n\nJack lay in his bed watching the fan spin. He turned his head on his pillow and looked at the clock. His eyes slowly started to close. He glanced at the clock.\n\n2:34\n\nHe continued to stare at it as his eyes slowly closed and the red numbers slowly faded as he saw the 4 change shape.\n\nJack laid in his bed. His eyes wide awake staring at the ceiling fan spinning above him. He turns his head and looks at the clock on his dresser.\n\n2:05", "Every day is the same horror.\n\n11:45 am\n\nI try to sleep in as much as possible because I'd rather die in my sleep. However, this never works as I also find myself up and out of bed around eight o'clock. Every time I wake up, I'm sweating pools. \n\nIt's miserable.\n\nMy typical day begins as I jolt awake from my sweat drenched bed. I sit there in my bed breathing heavily for about a whole thirty minutes. No, I don't use my phone and I don't read a book. I just, wait. It takes me a good while to collect myself and move on with the day.\n\nI get out of my bed and look at the clock. Three hours and fifteen minutes (approximately). I hate that. I'm obsessed with it. I cannot go five minutes without looking at my watch and calculating how long I have before what could be my last breath. \n\nI remove my bed sheets and put on a new set. I've tried reusing them but the sweat I leave behind after a night is too much for my nose. After tossing the bed sheets into the laundry basket, I make some breakfast.\n\nI chew nervously in the darkness of my living room, waiting and watching. After breakfast I have usually calmed myself enough to relax for a bit. It's usually around ten o'clock at this time and I can almost always persuade myself that everything will be alright.\n\nI sit out on my porch and look out into my yard. I watch the squirrels and the rabbits. I watch the birds and the wind shake the sheaves. I begin to accept what may happen in about two hours.\n\nI sit here and gaze out into the lovely world for around an hour and a half and begin to sweat again. This happens every time. The closer it gets to that time, the closer that hand gets to that number, I lose myself piece by piece.\n\n11:40 am\n\nIt won't happen today. I try to reassure myself of that. Out of all the days I have lived, why would it be this day?\n\n11:41 am\n\nWhy? Why does this have to happen to me? I get angry and start to throw a tantrum at the universe.\n\n11:42 am\n\nPlease, God, don't let it be today. I plead with the Lord to spare me. To allow my to live one more day.\n\n11:43 am\n\nIt's hopeless. I've lived all my life worrying about it. It will happen and I will have ruined all that I could have been. I cry.\n\n11:44 am\n\nI begin to embrace the abyss once again. Maybe it won't be so bad. Maybe it...\n\n23\n\n24\n\n25\n\n26\n\n27\n\n28\n\n... I watch every single second pass by in horror. With each time the hand moves on my watch, a new bead of sweat roles down my face. The tears start around the forty second mark...\n\n44\n\n45\n\n46\n\n47\n\n48\n\n49\n\n50\n\n51\n\n... I begin to whimper and shake as my imminent doom approaches. I close my eyes as I haven't blinked in over a minute. The sweat is burning my eyes but I shut them so I don't have to watch that stupid clock. I can still hear the ticking of the second hand...\n\n56\n\n57\n\n58\n\n59\n\n... I open my eyes. Eleven forty-five and six seconds. I made it. It didn't happen today. I fall to the floor of my porch and begin to weep softly. I curl up into the fetal position and lay in my puddle of tears.\n\nA mixture of relief and fear, joy and sorrow, happiness and depression, over takes my body for a solid hour. I lay there on my porch wondering what I should do today.\n\nMost people, in my situation, would say that they would do anything and everything that they wanted because they know they wouldn't die for the rest of the day. Many expect me to be a dare devil and a thrill seeker.\n\nBut the sad truth is, this curse of mine has led me to a point of severe paranoia, anxiety, and depression. I find it funny though, how it takes something this drastic to appreciate the value of life. I find it unfair that someone like me, one who knows just how valuable life is, cannot even begin to enjoy it.\n\nI spend the rest of my day sitting quietly in my living room watching TV. I try and stay up as late as a can so that I may be tired enough to sleep through the horrible routine I have developed.\n\nI go to bed around four or five in the morning, every night. I am exhausted. I can barely make it back to my bed. \n\nI close my eyes.\n\nI wake up around eight o'clock, gasping for air and covered in sweat. Another day." ]	4
	[WP] You're the accountant at the legendary Heroes Guild, whose members quests involve saving the universe and slaying ancient god-beasts. The Guildmaster wants see their annual finance report.	[ "\"Aye, Carthus, is that report done yet?\"\n\n\"Not quite.\" The accountant replies, trying to hide his fear at the thought of being punished by the Guildmaster for his slow work. He could hear Reginold's heavy footsteps as he approached.\n\n\"You best get that done before supper. Master Baldwin returns from the hunt soon.\" Reginold warned, as if Carthus needed to be reminded of something he already knew.\n\nThe lad nodded and waved him off. \"Yeah, I know. Be a good brother and leave me be for now, will you?\"\n\nHe didn't have to look at Reginold to know he had a sour expression on his face. Carthus waited for the younger man to leave, and after the door was shut he breathed out a sigh of relief.\n\n\"Let's see here...\"\n\nHe dips his quill into the inkwell and starts to write. Aside from the huge number of feasts every turn of the season, the guild spends most of its money on armor, swords, and horses. Basic necessities such as food, water and clothing are often further down the list, since parties are often sent into the surrounding woods to hunt for food. Water is taken from the river, and clothing is largely donated by the guild's numerous sponsors or bought for cheap from Helga and her associates.\n\nWage comes next down the list of costs, which Carthus already calculated earlier in the day. All he needed to do now was add up all the profits, subtract all the costs from the profits, and present the report to Guildmaster Baldwin without peeing his trousers. The mere thought of being in the vicinity of the large man scared him, and he could only imagine the terror he would feel whilst speaking in front of him and being subject to ridicule afterwards.\n\nBut of course, Carthus won't let that happen. After all, he was newly elected as the accountant of the Heroes' Guild after the previous one mysteriously disappeared, and he was determined to do good at his job. And so, he set off to do his task. He rounded up the written reports for the money earned from completed bounties, favors from the Court, and loot. As he flips through his moleskin journal, he sees a page about the conquest for the Dragon of Ur last summer. It was possibly the most memorable—and most profitable—conquest in the history of the guild, slaying a dragon that burned cities to the ground and killed thousands. He remembered riding off with his brothers to Ur and facing the grey-scaled menace, and couldn't help but smile as he reminisced.\n\nAfterwards, they sold the dragon's scales, claws and skin for a hefty price, and gave the skull to the King in exchange for a chest full of gold bars. The guild held feasts upon feasts for a month after that, and even then they haven't even spent half of what they have earned.\n\nThere was also the Bear god, the one that took the most lives out of all the god beasts they have encountered. Herrick was one of those brothers who have fallen in a battle with this beast, but he was more than avenged when its onyx pelt was sold for thrice more than what it was worth. And of course, more money for the guild meant more feasts.\n\nCarthus eventually finished writing up the report, and by then his hand was aching from gripping the quill for too long, and his eyes were tired from staring at the parchment without blinking as often as he should. He looked out of the window, expecting to hear the arrival of the Master's party as the sky turned berry pink.\n\nSoon, he heard the commotion below—the loud laughter and cheers were unmistakable. He hastily rolled up the piece of parchment and quickly made his way to the courtyard.\n\nCarthus immediately spotted Lukas, his smiling face smeared with blood as he ran to the entrance like a little kid. The accountant was confused.\n\n\"Carthus!\" Lukas didn't seem to notice his confused face as he pulled Carthus into a quick hug. \"I haven't seen you in ages! How have you been?\"\n\n\"I've been quite well.\" Carthus looked up at Lukas' bloody face. \"May I ask—where have you been, exactly?\"\n\n\"Oh.\" Realization dawned on the taller lad's expression. \"Pardon, I forgot. Master Baldwin sent us on a quest months ago. I'm not surprised you haven't been told of it, since it was a private mission for the Lannisters.\"\n\n\"I... see.\"\n\nCarthus was beginning to put the pieces together. A private mission meant that it was privately financed, which meant—\n\nThe accountant wasted no time. He dragged Lukas up to his study and made the lad blurt out all he knew about the costs and rewards of the mission as he furiously scribbled on his piece of parchment with his quill. The young commander was compliant enough, and Carthus was able to finish the report just as the sky turned inky black.\n\nAfterwards, they heard the sound of horns and clapping and cheering, and they knew that the hunting party has arrived. They rushed down to the courtyard just as Guildmaster Baldwin got off his horse.\n\n\"Aye, Meryl! Get the deer and the boar to the kitchens to be roasted.\" He yelled. Meryl, Baldwin's daughter, got off her chestnut horse. She had long weaved hair and deep set eyes, and had quite a big stature. She was nicknamed Mad Meryl due to her ever-changing flights of fancy, and her unpredictable tendency to resort to violence. Rumor has it that the old accountant disappeared because of her, and Carthus was one to believe in rumors.\n\nMaster Baldwin continued to walk towards the entrance. He then sees Lukas and smiles, showing off his missing teeth.\n\n\"Good job, lad. Cersei was happy with your work.\" He gave Lukas' shoulder a good pat. Judging from the wince the blond held back, either the Guildmaster's hand was too heavy, or he had been nursing a shoulder injury for quite some time now.\n\nThe Guildmaster turned to Carthus, who managed to stop himself from hiding behind the taller, fully-armored blond. He glanced at the roll of parchment in the young lad's hand.\n\n\"Is that the annual financial report?\" He asked, voice strong and daunting. Carthus stopped himself from shivering.\n\n\"Yes, Guildmaster Baldwin.\" Carthus replied in a shaky voice.\n\nSilence passed. The Guildmaster nodded, before beckoning him inside.\n\nInto the dining hall they went. Baldwin made him sit beside Aron, his right hand man, which made Carthus feel nauseous. Soon, the drinking started, and he felt even more sick as the men around him began cheering and singing songs and filling their bellies with ale and their ears with tall tales.\n\nBaldwin proposed a toast for the successful hunt, and the festivities continued as food was served. Carthus was too nervous to eat, and so he just watched as his fellow guild members ate and drank themselves into a stupor.\n\nAron must have noticed his loss of appetite, since he started serving him venison and even got one of the servants to pour him a mug of ale.\n\n\"Eat.\" Said—no, commanded—the older man. \"Rid of your worries for one night, won't you?\"\n\n\"Aye, but...\" He glanced at the plate of perfectly cooked venison in front of him, at the risk of getting stale or being stolen by the rowdy men he calls his guild mates. \"I'm a wee bit nervous to present the financial report to Guildmaster Baldwin later on.\"\n\nAron almost chokes on his ale. Carthus is startled when the brown-haired man wiped his mouth and let out a jovial laugh.\n\n\"Oh Carthus, poor, young Carthus.\" He laughed again. \"Who said anything about presenting to Master Baldwin? That's ridiculous!\"\n\nCarthus looked at him oddly. \"What do you mean?\"\n\n\"The Guildmaster isn't the one who's handling trivial affairs like that.\" Aron clutches his shoulder and gestures to the bulky woman sitting on the other side of the table. \"You'll be presenting it to lovely Meryl, not Master Baldwin!\"\n\nCarthus felt his heart race as Mad Meryl locked gazes with him. She gave him a big, toothy grin. He faintly heard Aron saying \"Good luck!\" and laughing once more.\n\nNeedless to say, the Heroes' Guild needed a new accountant after that.\n\n•\n\nSorry if it's too long! It's the first time I submitted anything here, and I hope it's at least up to par with everything else that's been submitted on this subreddit. Otherwise—well, a girl can dream. :P\n\nAnd sorry for the Cersei reference, I couldn't help myself!", "\"Yer fuckin' broke, and no mistake.\"\n\nIt may have been the long hours just as sure as the strong spirit I'd been gulping down, but I was in no mood for sugarcoating.\n\nXion, Grandmaster of the legendary Guild of Heroes, gave me the look of a man who'd just found his favorite wine swapped out for rancid piss.\n\n\"You're joking.\"\n\n\"Wish I was, but I've been runnin' the numbers over and over, and I keep gettin' the same result. Man to man, you're not just broke, Grandmaster. Judgin' by the looks of things, you're in the shit up to your elbows.\"\n\n\"Impossible!\" exclaimed he about whom they were still writing the epic verses and singing the songs, the urgency rising in his voice. \"There are chests of gold--chests of it--in our safe room. There are barrels of jewels, notes of credit from the crown--\"\n\n\"Aye, ya got assets, to be sure. But my advice is you have a good look at the law. People are real dissatisfied over all the... You know, the damages?\"\n\nAnother drink. I had the right, didn't I? Being the bearer of bad news and all that?\n\n\"What're you saying?\" The old hero narrowed his eyes.\n\n\"Well, take the recent business in the village of Ollenheim--\"\n\n\"We saved those people from that sorcerer, Nath'Ur. If we hadn't stopped him, he'd have raised thousands of undead and toppled the King himself!\" He raised his hands, clutching at the air as if to highlight the gravity of the situation.\n\n\"Aye,\" I said wearily, \"Nobody's doubtin' that, but half a village was destroyed in the process. Buildings were burned, livestock were slaughtered, people lost loved ones... And, not to say this is your fault, exactly, but the whole village is littered with putrefyin' corpses now. People are droppin' left and right now illness has taken root.\"\n\n\"Would they prefer we hadn't intervened?\"\n\n\"Well, no, but--\"\n\nHe cocked an eyebrow. \"Then what do they expect us to do?\"\n\n\"Clean up after yourselves, I reckon.\"\n\n\"Ollenheim was an isolated incident! We should hardly be debtors merely on account of minute collateral damage.\"\n\nA sigh, then a drink.\n\nThen another drink.\n\n\"Look, sir, I'm just yer accountant. My job's to tell you how it is, and facts are facts. It ain't just Ollenheim. When you were in the eastern provinces last year--\"\n\n\"We saved the capital from those subterranean savages.\" He turned his chin up, face full of pride.\n\n\"You flooded the ground with poison, and now there's widespread famine and sickness because crops won't grow and the drinkin' water's poisoned. Then there was that time in Cantis--\"\n\n\"Where we saved the citizenry from mind control?\"\n\n\"Where you blew up the Governor's keep to, uh, what was it? To 'imprison the abomination in a stony tomb'.\"\n\n\"What about the occasion whereupon we were commissioned to rescue the Crown Princess, the King's very daughter, from the clutches of those cultists intent on sacrificing her to summon devils?\"\n\n\"Uh, she was possessed by a denizen of the Lower Hells. You do remember she had to be taken to the high priests for an exorcism, yeh?\"\n\n\"And? We rescued her, turned her over to the King's officers, and His August Majesty issued a Bill of Credit.\"\n\n\"That was just a bill, sir.\"\n\nXion sat opposite me, leaning in close and steepling his fingers.\n\n\"Alright, lad. Have it your way Just tell me, how deep in it are we?\"\n\nI showed him the paper, then offered my flask. He took the first, scanned it, then took the second, drained it.\n\n\"Good stuff, ain't it?\"\n\n\"It is,\" he said, somewhat distracted.\n\n\"Part of the problem, actually,\" I continued. \"Lotta big meals, fine drink... Entertainment... It adds up, and the mighty Guild of Heroes ain't exactly paid all its tabs. There're a lot of zeroes on what some of your boys owe the Pleasure Palace, for instance. I'm not judgin', but a whore's goodwill's only likely to go so far before she starts sidlin' up to the local Justices lookin' for recompense. World knows you don't need that.\"\n\n\"I can see the problems for myself,\" he said with some annoyance. \"I don't need you to list them all off for me. What I need from you is a way out of this.\"\n\n\"Actually, sir, that's the last subject I wanted to breach with ye.\" I stood up. \"Lookin' at how you'll hafta divvy up what you've got stored here in the Guild Hall just to make ends meet, I'm sad to say you ain't got enough layin' around to make my fee.\" I walked over and picked up my flask from where he'd thrown it after downing the contents. \"I hate to leave you hangin' like this, but a man's gotta eat.\" I waved the flask. \"And drink.\"\n\n\"What? That's preposterous!\" he roared in disservice to his gilded reputation for remaining cool under pressure. \"I won't allow it!\"\n\nI looked him square in the eye as I pushed in my chair. \"With all due respect, you ain't really in much of a position to 'allow' anything. From one professional to another, I'd suggest going to the merchant guilds or the bankin' houses, see if you can't squeeze some money outta them.\"\n\nXion let out something between a chuckle and a gurgle.\n\n\"The merchants, you say? The bankers, is it?\" He smiled a defeated smile. \"There are some evils even the Guild of Heroes would prefer not to tangle with.\"\n\n\"Eh, whatever suits ye.\" I ignored the poor attempt at gallows humor and made to leave, but I felt him grab my arm.\n\n\"You're our last chance, you know. The world will fall into ruin if the Guild goes under.\" His voice was low and breathy, nearly a whisper. \"I'm begging you--we're heroes, the kingdom needs us.\"\n\nI brushed him off. \"You're heroes,\" I said, yanking the door open. \"I'm just an accountant.\"" ]	2
	[WP] You are a mouse seeking shelter from torrential rain. You must overcome obstacles like puddles to do so.	[ "Curse the rain it made it hard to get dry food. A bucket in front tipped over spilling its contents. The farmer's wife had placed it carelessly in her haste to get indoors. She didn't like the child on her back getting wet. The water from the roof had filled it up and the rocks it was on slipped form each other. The water swept me some paces back. Unlike the rain, the flood drenched me right to my bone, it went through my fur and reminded me of my mortality. \n\nI ran through the open ground it was quicker. Normally I would stay hidden in the tall grass but no owls were flying out in this weather. In a few minutes their feathers would be too soaked to stay airborne and they would have to hop on the terrain where I ruled supreme with my sinewy feet, nimble and quick. Maybe the rain wasn't so bad after all. \n\nThere it was up ahead home sweet home, warm and snugly and full of life, Life I'd given birth to. The drops weren't as heavy. Before it sounded like a power saw at full power, wrrrrrrrr, now it sounded like the steam iron when it produced hot air shhhhhh. A figure walked out making me stop dead in my tracks. I went into the tall grass next to me, it was wet but better than a meeting with the cat. I didn't see the puddle as I crawled backwards. The cat walked by not having spotted me. I saw it, it licked its lips as it walked on. There was a stain of blood on its whiskers and a tuft of hair floated from its mouth. My heart beat I wanted to attack but size matters, that was the first rule of the animal kingdom. I ran to my burrow the moment it was gone. I saw the damage. Thank goodness for the rain, it hid the tears from everyone else. \n\n**\nYou can read more of my stories at /r/Pagefighter.", "“Jackpot!” \n\nI watched the cracker drop like a stone to the fractured pavement of the parking lot. The poor giant who dropped it cursed, looked at her watch and hurried inside the mall. I greedily rubbed my hands together and imagined my wife’s reaction when she saw this bad boy. \n\nThe distance was immense and I could smell rain hurrying this way, but I didn't care. I needed that cracker for my family. For my marriage. It had been weeks since I'd brought home anything more than a few crumbs. “Lazy!” my wife would scold me. “All day you go out and this is what you come home with?” \n\n“I'm doing the best that I can!” I would shout. “You know I have a bad knee, Sharon! You know that!” \n\n“Where is my suitcase?” she would retort. She knew that threatening to leave me would do it. Usually. \n\nI stood in the crack of brick that was my front door and surveyed the parking lot for few moments, planning my route. Finally, I set off. \n\nI scurried across the sidewalk, leaped over the curb and darted across nine empty parking spaces before admiring my glorious prize. I turned the cracker over in my hands and my nose raced over every millimeter. Peanut butter!* It had been years since I'd happened across peanut butter! It didn't smell like name brand, but that was okay. I wasn't a snob. I closed my eyes and buried my nose in the smooth nutty filling.\n\nA crash of thunder woke me from my hypnosis. My eyes sprung open and to my horror, rain was starting to fall.\n\nA drop of rain smacked me in the back, nearly knocking me over. Another drop assaulted my precious cracker, so I squeaked loudly and hugged it to my chest. Panicked, I looked around for cover, but the cars near the front of the mall were gone, except for the cracker dropper’s car. As the rain started beating down, I ducked under the car. \n\nOkay, I thought. This is alright. I can wait it out here. \n\nSeconds later, a pair of feet were pounding through the puddles in the lot. \n\n“No, no, no, no, no,” I chanted, as the giant feet marched up to my shelter and climbed in. The engine roared to life and sped away, leaving me and my salty treasure uncovered. I had no choice. I would have to race through the rain to my crack in the wall and protect my loot as best as I could. \n\nI raced over the pavement toward the curb, but a rain drop hammered down on my face, blinding me momentarily. I tripped and my cracker, my baby, slid out of my hands and rolled away. I screamed loud, shuttering squeaks and looked around, grabbing handfuls of my hair as I panicked. \n\nAha! Relief fell over me like a warm blanket as I saw it rolling toward the safe, familiar curb. I let out a breath that I didn't realize I'd been holding and laughed nervously. That was close, I thought. I almost lost – Just then, my rolling cracker hit a tiny pebble and changed direction. Now, it was rolling like a boulder straight toward a small ocean that was forming at the corner of the parking lot.\n\nMy bad knee ached and rain pelted me, but I wasn't giving up now. I scrambled to the ocean and desperately leaped toward the cracker. The tips of my fingers barely took hold of the ridges on the cracker and rescued it from a cold, watery death. \n\nI carefully clutched it close to my chest to keep it from getting any soggier and limped through the rain to my crack in the wall. I hunched over in the dry warmth of my doorway and grasped my chest. Sharon appeared, looking tired from caring for the kids all day. \n\n“Well?” she demanded with one hand on her hip. \n\n“Cracker,” I said, breathlessly. “There was…rain…and the ocean…my knee…but I got it…its safe…”\n\nSharon snatched up the cracker and smelled it. Her nose turned up and she shook the cracker at me and said, “I'm allergic to peanut butter! You'd know that if you ever cared! Where is my suitcase?”\n", "Damn the fickle weather here. Normally I keep an eye on the sky reflecting in the shop windows. I had a look in the hairdressers this morning and the sky was the same blue as those Nike trainer soles I devour like brie. My neighbours make their kids leave their trainers outside in the communal hallway. And they wonder why they have to replace them so often. ‘Boys will be boys’, I heard the mother say once. Mice will be mice.\n\nI’m under some scaffolding on the pavement of Queso Street. It’s normally full of people walking, going to the shops, dropping their food. Not now though, it’s amazing how scarce those humans make themselves when the rain comes.\n\nI can’t stay here. The raindrops are crashing to the ground in front of me, and at the edge of the pavement a river of water is flowing down the street. Lakes are already rapidly forming on the road. I don’t trust those lakes. I thought I could run through one once and almost drowned trying. I went back the next day and saw it was a pothole.\n\nI assess my options. I don’t like crossing the road, I’ve lost too many friends to the metal monsters. Normally I would catch a ride in one of those pensioner’s cart things as they cross but there’s none of them about today.\n\nI’m going to have to make a dash for it.\n\nI lean forward to move away from my scaffolding pole next to the wall when a leather shoe slams to the ground in front of me, half a tail’s length from my foot. I watch as the human runs, slamming his brown shoes to ground, caught out in the rain like me. That was close.\n\nI look both ways this time and sprint to the street, fast and low. I jump down from the pavement over the stream and onto the road. My stomach fills with dread as I run across. This is my extreme sport. Nothing will save me if I make a mistake here. An error of judgement will be swiftly corrected by black rubber.\n\nI feel a blow on my back like a mousetrap as I’m hit by a raindrop the size of my foot. That’s going to be sore tomorrow. If there is a tomorrow. It doesn’t matter. I keep going, skirting around a lake that’s formed on the other side and up the ledge back onto the pavement.\n\nI almost finish my sigh of relief when an ominous feeling comes over me like the closing of the cheesemongers. In a single moment, my stomach churns and I turn round to see a car’s tyre entering the lake I just navigated.\n\nEverything slows down. My end has come. Life flashes before my eyes, all the good times overcoming traps, eating cheese and trainers. The water explodes out of the lake and is launched into the air in all directions. Towards me. It fills my vision. This is the perfect storm. I close my eyes as the grey water engulfs me. Goodbye.\n\nOh.\n\nI’m alive. Just wet. I run into the drain, through the hole in the wall, into the block of flats, past the trainers, into the basement. Home. I see my husband there, Jack, he’s prepared some Edam for us.\n\n“What cheese is made backwards?” he says.", "Gelinda felt like the world was ending. Every time she took one step, the current swept her back twenty. Her head fell below water, as she desperately tried to push her way forward. She could only pray that Mark and Janice had made it to safety before the tunnel had caved in. \n\nGelinda didn’t even want to think of the insurance costs.\n\nThey’d had flooding before, but nothing quite this devastating. A bit of a dig here, more hay there and everything was spick and span again. Now Gelinda was certain they would be looking around for a new nest. Well, just as soon as the world stopped ending.\n\nShe swam up for breath, managing to pull herself out of the raging waters. Spluttering, she cleared her lungs of water and lay shivering on the ground. The cold was penetrating through her fur and she was losing the motivation to move.\n\nMark and Janice wouldn’t want her to give up though. She could imagine them standing behind her, cheering her on. Promising to give her some nice hugs as soon as she made it to safety. The thought of her family pulled her mind from the gutter of despair and back into the land of the moving. She forced her legs to hold her as she started to move forward.\n\nIf she could just get to cover.\n\nA large raindrop hitting her back forced her flat onto her belly again. With a twitch of her whiskers, she picked herself up and ploughed onwards.\n\nThe journey to Flower Pot Sanctuary was different; the landscape was damaged and changed, the way ahead impossible to make out through the dark fog. Gelinda did not fear though.\n\nShe held back her nervousness while passing through Samuels Garden, knowing the tabby would be hiding away from the turmoil. The apocalypse would not be respecting territorial boundaries. Spiders Bush was empty, free of arachnid eyes looking down at her as she crawled through. Gelinda felt her heart go out to her eight legged friends. They were not made for such weather, their webs would only take them so far. \n\nThe Human Stepping Stones were sinking into the mud, Gelinda looked at them, unsure how to approach the stones. She could see the fractured opening of safety though, and jumped from stone to stone. The raindrops doing their best to push her off to her doom, but she scrambled and clawed at the stones. Her grip was steady though the world was doing everything to stop her. \n\nPanting heavily, Gelinda squeezed through the small hole and into the flower pot. It was dry. It was safe. \n\nThe darkness was comforting for the small mouse, she could hear the drumming of raindrops hitting the pot on the outside. Echoing. Gelinda curled into a ball, tucking her tail firmly underneath her. Still shivering, but safe, she began her vigilant watch for Mark and Janice. \n", "Euan raised his snout towards the sky, sniffing at the gathering clouds that rolled in from the west. With a noise of unease he draped his cloak of dark green around his shoulders and hurried towards the shelter of the nearby oak. His spear was dulled with soot and his satchel half-full with gathered seeds, provisions for the trip to Coal-castle. \n\nThe late spring rains always came down in sheets of water, flooding stream and pond and washing away any who were unprepared. At least the rains would keep the owls away, the birds-of-prey preferring to roost during the storms. The fox and weasel would always seek the shelter of their dens, allowing a lone mouse the comfort that he'd not worry about ending up as someone's dinner. \n\nThe first drop landed perhaps twenty paces ahead of him, splashing down onto a dried maple leaf. Then another fell behind him, tinkling off a low bush. Euan hurried his pace, pulling the hood of his cloak up over his ears. There, halfway up the oak was a nestle where some of the bark had been peeled away. Clamping his spear of yew between his teeth he clambered up the rough bark, his claws easily gripping to the wood. The rains had increased, their patter a rolling wave of noise and water. The sky above rumbled with thunder, the occasional bolt of lightning flashing in the grey clouds. He climbed into the hollow dripping wet, beads of water running down his whiskers as he shook himself dry. \n\nA fine layer of duff carpeted the hollow, clean moss just begging to be slept in. Euan peeked outside before moving deeper into the shelter. There were no bones or pellets, no sign of a predator calling it home. A perfect place, he thought, and just in time as well. \n\nHe leaned his spear nearby, ready to be snatched up in case the worst should happen. Reaching into his bag he pulled out a few seeds, chewing on them absently as he traced tomorrow's path in his mind. He had already passed Bitter-root two days ago; by noon tomorrow he should reach Oak Creek and Coal-castle by sunset. Satisfied he unwrapped a precious amount of honey, wet and dripping and still in its comb. The sweetness was rich on his tongue. \n\nBrushing off the crumbs he cleaned himself, licking his paws and wiping down his snout. Only then did he wiggle into the duff, draping his cloak over him to dry. \n\n\"Of all the trees that grow so fair \nOld forests to adorn \nGreater are none beneath the sun \nThan Oak and Ash and Thorn \nSing Oak and Ash and Thorn \nSing Oak and Ash and Thorn, \nSurely I sing of no little thing, \nIn Oak and Ash and Thorn!\" " ]	5
	[WP] Write about a boy whose only friend is his shadow. Make a dark/creepy twist on something happening to the boy and his shadow trying to deal with it.	[ "It's currently 3:30pm March 1989. I've been Marty's shadow for 6 years now and we've learned so much. There's nothing I loved more than being by his side while we discovered his first loose tooth. Or when we played handball during recess. Where there was light, we were together. \n\n\"Hey Marty, come inside for a moment!\" Our mom called from the house. As he trotted up the steps I slithered across the ground behind him until he crossed the threshold and then... Nothing.\n\n\nIt's hard to describe what it's like when the lights go out. I don't think or feel. I don't even register that time has passed, but I've gotten used to it. \n\nInstantly, we were in the kitchen. I like this room, it's light still had one of those old lightbulbs that bathes the room in a slightly yellow glow. \"Listen Sweety, you know those things you see while you're dreaming?\" I had no idea what mom was talking about. Dreaming? I've never experienced dreaming. She continued as I nodded along. \"This nice man is going to take you to a fun summer camp.\" \n\nShe turned away to hide her tears, as the stranger kneeled and spoke to Marty. \"Hey kid, you like sports?\"\n\nMarty spoke up. \"I like handball.\"\n\n\"Really!? That's great! So do the other kids.\" He assured, but something didn't feel right. We never needed any other kids to play with. In the end we had no say in the matter and as the stranger led us outside to his van, Marty turned our head to his mom and nervously waved a half hearted goodbye. \n\nGetting into vehicles always made me not exist, so when the doors closed it was no surprise when I woke up in a completely ambiguous situation.\n\n\"The body is pretty decomposed.\" I heard a voice say. Pointing a flash light at us stood a man in uniform. A second police officer replied \"No one has called in any missing persons. Maybe a cold case.\"\n\nWhat were these two talking about? The movement of the officers light caused me to sway around and jump, while every now and then disappearing when he turned away. It made understanding the situation an extreme challenge. \n\nWithout warning Officers were everywhere and a set of flood lights had been set up around Marty and me giving me my first glimpse of Marty's body. He was unrecognizable, but the bruises on his neck were as clear as day. Marty was poked and prodded by the officers. Theories flew back and forth, but nothing except for a definitive answer would satisfy me. When they finished investigating, I woke up surrounded by a florescent glow to find Marty's cold body laying on top of me while his mom, much older and completely gray from when I last saw her, sobbed above. \n\nShe knows the answer! She sent us away! I tried desperately to communicate but I learned that was impossible years ago. Me and Marty were lifted and placed into a drawer. Ask her about the stranger! He took us away!\n\nBut it was all futile. As the door began to slid shut, instead of disappearing, I flickered about, like that time we went to the beach with mom for a bonfire. \nMarty became engulfed in flames. I was splattered and smeared all around and as Marty slowly turned into dust, I stopped existing one last time without ever knowing what had happened in the dark.", "I've read all your stories (loved them by the way) and thought I'd try one for myself.\n\n\nWhen Jack jumped, so did I.\nWhen Jack swung, so did I.\nI have been with Jack his whole life, and we were the best of friends. Jack would talk to me about all his problems and I would be there to listen, though I couldn't talk to him. I was there when he would hide from his Dad. Although I was very similar to Jack. My body could not show the bruises on his face and the marks on his wrist. I tried to stop I truly did, but Jack said it helped him to forget.\nJack and I took a stroll to the woods one day. Jack brought a rope with him and started to tie it. I used every ounce of my strength to try and stop him. The noose went around our neck. \nWhen Jack jumped, so did I.\nWhen Jack swung, so did I.\n\nthought I'd write this short one because all your stories inspired me! Let me know what you think!", "He was too young and naive to know the true danger of the beast. It roared and snapped as its orange fur sparkled under the night sky. I cried out and told him to turn back, but he didn't hear me, he never did. I reached for his legs, desperately trying to pull him back, but the beast pushed me back. I hit the wall but no sound came out, all I could do now was watch as my friend perished. He pat its radiant fur and it began to purr. It snapped as his arm him as he pulled it back back in retort of the pain. He cried and screamed in pain as his flesh began to shrivel up and darken. His body was engulfed in a veil of heat as he wriggled in pain, desperately trying to shake the creature off. His flesh crackled like it was on a pan and his clothes began to turn to dust. Tears trickled down his bright pink cheeks and he let let out a final groan as the monster continued to feast on his body. All that was left was a body as dark as mine. I cried, but no tears came out. I gently stroked what was left of his body as I laid besides him, I wanted to stop him but I couldn't. What kind of friend am I? ", "~~This is a twenty minute writing sprint.~~ I went over by ten minutes or so! It's okay, I still had fun.\n\n**\n\n\"I already know, okay.\" The boy was practically pouting.\n\n\"Damien, please,\" his mother said.\n\n\"Stop it mom.\" Damien was sitting on the ground. His knees were tightly pressed against his chest. The warmth of the sun beat against the back of his head.\n\n\"I'm going to count to three, mister,\" his mother said in a not very convincing tone.\n\n\"Hmph.\" Damien crossed his arms and jerked his head slightly further away.\n\n\"One,\" mother said. Damien didn't budge. \"Two.\" Mother was sitting on the park bench, tapping her feet. The sound of children and birds were interspersed between her counting. Damien breathed in heavily while slowly getting up. Mother was triumphant. \"Thr--\" Mother was smiling when she was interrupted.\n\n\"FINE!\" Damien turned to look at his mother. His face was red and scrunched up. I thought I saw tears in his eyes, but I couldn't tell. \"I'll go play with the other kids! But I hate them! They all make fun of me! Look at them!\" He pointed at the kids, his arm as straight and stiff as if he was practicing martial arts. \"They're happier without me! I'm happier here.\" His voice diminished into a whisper. \"In the sun...\" Damien turned away from his mother, stepped down into the sandpit, and walked slowly with hanging shoulders, to the jungle gym.\n\n\"Don't worry Damien,\" I told my young friend. \"If I disappear into the darkness, I'll be everywhere.\"\n\nDamien smiled as he entered the ground level of the jungle gym. It was completely covered. The only sunlight that penetrated the cavity was the single hole in which Damien entered. Most of the kids came here for secret meetings away from the prying eyes of their parents.\n\nAll the kids had gathered there when they saw Damien approaching. \"Damien, Damien. Pisses himself, and shits himself. All he loves, is darkness. Darkness, Darkness, Darkness.\" The kids chanted like a mob on a hunt. Little did they realize, that if they acknowledged me, I can interact with them.\n\n\"Damien.\" I said, my voice filled the cavity. Damien was still the only one in the sunlight, so his shadow stretched forward, into the dark room, merging with the darkness. \"What do you want?\"\n\nThe kids were all shaking. Some cursed at Damien, some were crying, some were fascinated, and some were completely oblivious.\n\n\"I...\" He paused. I can tell he was debating what he wanted to do to these kids. I felt it. The kids fell silent, they felt it.\n\n\"I just want to be alone, Danny,\" Damien said, addressing me by name.\n\n\"Hey!\" I hated being called by my name. That was a name for a human, something I've long since considered myself. \"Okay, Damien,\" I told my young friend.\n\nIt felt like whistling, I hadn't done it very many times, but in an instant, all the kids inside the cavity, the ones the darkness touched, had fallen asleep.\n\nDamien fell. It took a lot out of my host whenever I used that ability. But he whispered something to me, hardly audible if I were still human. \"Thank you, Da--\" He passed out.", "I am not what you would call, real.\n\n In fact, I can’t really determine what I am without defining what “real” is. I know I exist though, and so does he. My master, he is 13 years in age and I bend to his every whim. When he walks, I walk. When he falls, I fall. And when he sleeps, I die. I am reborn every morning, slowly coming into fruition. Is that what something “real” does?\n \nBeing his shadow is not all of that hard a job to do, the quickness and the accuracy comes with practice, the hard part is being his best friend. I wave to him and he waves back, simple enough. I just can’t understand his obsession with the cats next door. Every night, when father is sleeping and we are waiting for mother to come home from work, we sneak over to the Peterson’s home and find a new cat.'\n \nI don’t like burying cats, any more than I like killing them.\n \nHe has been doing this for weeks now and it doesn’t seem to be getting any better. Every new puncture into the poor cat’s body leaves a scar on my soul. Do I have a soul? In any case, he talks to me about it, constantly. I can’t speak back to him but he just tells me that it feels really good for him to take their lives.\n \nI don’t like the motion of a knife into the ground. I hate the sound of it bursting through a skin sac to find a bath of blood. The sad thing is, is that he knows I don’t like it. I try to stop him but he just gets angrier. After he is done with his ritual for the night, he buries them in the backyard behind the lemon tree. For what every reason no one else goes back there, it is like his own little personal cemetery for all of his victims. I long for the nights where he kills with no lights on so I can die peacefully for what little time I have alone. I wish I had been dead when the other boy found us.\n \nHe couldn’t have been any younger than 11 but I think he might have been 12, just a short little kid. “The Peterson boy” is what master called him. The Peterson boy lost all emotion when he saw my master strike the feline with a final blow to stop its howls of pain. Master usually liked to hear them howl but this one was a little too loud, hence the Peterson boy’s unwanted appearance. One minute the Peterson boy is at the porch, and the next he is on the floor with a knife sliding up his chest. We wrapped our hands around his mouth to keep him quiet, I constantly try to motion him to leave the poor boy alone but master only yells at me to do as he does. The Peterson boy finally grasps an ability to get a word or two in.\n\n“Please, I won’t tell anyone, I swear!” He fought to get his mouth over master’s mighty hands. “I don’t even know what I saw!”\n\nMaster started to lift his hand more and ease up on the strangling of the poor kid. “No no, Peterson boy, you know exactly what you saw.” Master was holding up the tattered torso to not only frighten him, but threaten him. Peterson boy fell silent. Master magnetized to the boulder behind the Peterson boy and lifted it high into the air. I couldn’t let this poor boy die, not for such a reason as ill timing. I pulled, with what little strength I had, masters arm away to avoid hitting the poor boy. Master turned around to look at me with a stare I have seen no many times before, a look of sadness.\n\n“Black? Why did you do that?” His face filled with tears.\n\n“Master, you shouldn’t be hurting people, I can’t let you hurt people.”\n\n“I TOLD you Black,” His voice was getting louder and more concerning. “I need to do this to make me happy! You want me to be happy right Black?”\n\n“You hurt cats. You’ve never hurt a person before, this is different. I know this is different.” I fought with him but my inner battle was raging even harder. “This isn’t what friends are supposed to do Master! Friends don’t make other friends kill!”\n\n“Look Black, there is no other way of looking at this, this is the only way that we can live on. We need to kill to survive. Killing makes me happy; I can’t survive if I’m not happy right?”\n\nI look over at the Peterson boy who is so confused by the situation that he is just staring at us with a blank face, still no emotion attached to it. Master starts to move toward him with the boulder and I tug his shoulder in the slightest. “Black, you know how this ends.”\n\n“…I know.” The words fell out of my mouth like rotten teeth.\n\nThe night seemed so calm that night. No chirping crickets, no nearby cars, no howling cats. The air was cold and still, sort of how a picture looks if it moved ever so slightly. With the moonlight glow ruining my escape, I said nothing and stopped nothing. My only gift that I looked forward to with eager eyes was the bedroom. Master did his nightly ritual of kissing his mother goodnight and brushing his teeth until we lay in bed. He reached across the desk to turn off the lamp. I died that night. I prayed I never got reborn again. \n", "I am the strange boy\n\nwith a fairy face\n\nand faggot voice.\n\nThe freak,\n\nis what they say.\n\nBut I am not a boy,\n\nand I am not so strange.\n\nThe forest surrounds me\n\nand the wind blows through my hair\n\njust as it rustles through the leaves.\n\nI am the forest\n\nand it is me.\n\nA tree could be called\n\nsomething it was not\n\nbut its shadow will not change with the name.\n\nWhen I look at my shadow,\n\nshe stretches tall in the evening\n\nand crouches in the day.\n\nShe is not wearing the clothes that disguise me\n\nShe does not have this hair on her face\n\nShe is just the shadow of a person,\n\nof me,\n\nshe is alive,\n\nand like the shadow of a tree\n\nshe is unaware,\n\nfree, \n\nand a cool relief on a summer's day.\n\n\n--\n\nThis doesn't exactly fit the prompt but it was fun to make and got me thinking. Thanks for the inspiration!" ]	6
	[WP] You're a scientist that has been diagnosed with cancer. You think that you've found a cure but it must be tested on yourself. Right after you try, you suddenly wake up in a room with a highly advanced computer with the words "Simulation Over" written on the screen.	[ "Dazed and confused I looked around the room to try and get a feeling or at least some understanding of where I had ended up. My eyes darted up and down the walls,. They were walls of pure white, polished and gleaming, the only noise being the consistent hum of the air con and what seemed to be (from the sounds of it) a very powerful engine grumbling to itself in a consistent pattern of monotone. The computer infront of me displayed only two words; \"Simulation Over\". Before I had a chance to question what had happened, a high pitched metalic screach ripped through the room, filling it with the eerie echo of metal on metal. the computer made a high pitched ping and flew up into the air, and was then promptly swallowed up by the ceiling. Then the wall parted to reveal a very solid brushed steel door. It swung open, and out came a doctor in pure white overalls and a clipboard.\n\n\"Congratulations doctor Richter, you passed your Medical Synthetics practical! Such a lovely title isn't it? doctor. I know you'll make a fine one yet!\" \n\n\"Yet!?\" I exclaimed \" I've been a doctor for 20 years! I finished my masters at Yale!\" The man in the lab coat responded calmly \" Aah, you're experiencing Simulatory trauma. That happens sometimes thanks to the simulation. No, you are not an \"official\" doctor yet, you still haven't gone through the initiation ceremony but now, you're practically staff! Still though you've pretty much passed!\" I was unsure if I was seriously in this strange situation or if this guy was punking me. \n\n\"If I'm not a doctor then explain what the hell I've been doing for the last 20 years of my life!\" \n\n\"Mr Richter-\" The man said; \" Look at your hands. No man who is in his 40s has hands that smooth. You are only 25 - at least according to your applicant file.\" He said, casually flipping through the notes on his clipboard\"\n\nMy eyes darted down to my hands, which were in fact smooth and delicate, it was clear that they hadn't seen a day of hard labour. Suddenly, tidbits of memory started to flood back. I remembered my name, James Richter, and the purpose of the simulation; to test doctors ability to independently develop a cure for the most major diseases known to man. As memories came flooding back I began to feel a sense of panic, but at the same time tranquility. I had not infact been a 40 year old doctor. That was a part of the simulation. In reality that was probably only about 40 minutes, pretty incredible tech honestly - I'm not going to even try to divulge how it worked, that is a story for another day. \n\n\"My name if you can't remember it, is Graham Rickshaw. I'm your professor. And you are as of this moment, the highest scoring graduate we've had in 15 years! \" Said the man in white - well, Graham now I guess. \" It was definitely a good move on the University's part to invest in these Memory loungers. They've increased our student success rate by 97 percent! Even if our numbers are incredibly small because of well, living conditions.\" He said excitedly as he began to unclip strange plugs from the side of my head. \" As you can probably tell, we have a very important job here.\" \"and that is?\" I mumbled, not really remembering the significance of the test on the outside world. \"Well considering that you are now technically staff, I guess I will give you the rundown.\" stated Graham. \" The year is 2087, not 2016 as the simulation was set to, it's a shame that we can't use more modern times but as you know the protectors eradicated most of these pretty deadly diseases from Earth in 2034. So we have to wind back the clock A LOT just to get some challenging tasks for you guys to work on.\" I most definitely didn't know this, at least not in the moment. \" As you also know you just passed your synthetics test. We gave your avatar A brain tumor.\" \"And?\" I replied. \"Well, you didn't just cure the brain tumor. The strain of vaccine you created actually worked for ALL cancers AND tumors. Very impressive work Mr.Richter!\" I just sat there, stunned. In retrospect I shouldn't have been considering what I SHOULD have known about the world we live in, but as they say ignorance is bliss. \n\nAfter about 30 minutes of mild discussion and cooldown, I finally proposed -what I thought- Was a very simple question to my professor; \"So, can we get out of here now or do I have more tests? My head is killing me and i need some serious fresh air.\"\n\nTo which he replied alongside a light chuckle; \"Well if by fresh air you mean going and standing next to the filter; sure!\"\n\n\"What do you mean the filter?\" I asked in confusion, to which he responded one sinister statement: \" Well you can't exactly breathe in space can you?\"\n\n", "It was the time, I thought. \n\nI took a deep breath, staring blankly into the camera. A small red light was blinking furiously on the control panel nearby, indicating it had begun.\n\n\"This is Day Five Hundred and Twenty Two...\" I heard myself mumbling hoarsely. My lips parted, then touched each other again, like a robot speaking. \n\nI could feel nothing, except for the lukewarm bottle in my palm. I held it so tightly that I could imagine the sound of the glass of the test tube cracks. Inside there was a small pill. It was red, in a disc shape, and tasted like strawberry. I picked the flavour myself.\n\n\"...it is made of the newly discovered biological molecule...\"I kept on while my hands were rubbing on the hard surface nervously. There was no more time...\n\"... it is a significant day,\" I concluded, quite abruptly, \"for a panacea of cancer is created. \"\n\nI raised my hand, let the camera capture the small disc-like red pill.Suddenly, I was gripped by a paroxysm of pain in the chest. It has begun. I had to do this now.\nMy face must have been distorted in pain. My eyesight started to blur. The cancer in my liver, it was evolving, stretching its venomous tentacles to every muscle. I grabbed a cup of water placed earlier on the control panel, put the pill on the tip of my tongue, then gurgled a mouthful of water. \n\nIt was not as sweet as I imagined. Instead, it was bitter, and maybe a little bit salty. Its taste was absolutely horrible. Maybe strawberry after all was a bad idea.\n\nBut miracles happened. The pain that swelled up in my chest was slowly fading. I could feel the octopus of cancer was battling, however losing. Its tentacles whipped through my ribs with less and less strength. It was dying...\n\nA blissful wave of exhaustion struck me. Finally...I thought, finally I came to this step. It worked.\n\nDarkness fell. I must have been falling into sleep...my first decent sleep since I was diagnosed with cancer. It was dreamless and painless, like death itself.\n\nHowever, it did not last long. Something, something buried deep in my mind, startled. I struggled to wake up for no reason, fighting against the reassuring darkness. I must...\n\nI opened my eyes. Brightness blinded my eyes as I did so, therefore I tried again. I heard familiar buzzing from my lab. Am I...?\n\nMy eyes failed me. I was in a huge room, with giant computers around me. The walls were all glowing with soft but pale white light. I looked around, desperately wanted to find a door.\n\nBut there was no door. Only a screen with bright green words written in italics.\n\n\"Simulation Over.\"\n\nWhat?!\n\nI could not believe my eyes. It was not real. I thought, unconvincingly. Seemed to sense my disbelief, the words on the screen disappeared. Instead, a video call was established out of sudden.\n\n\"Congratulations,\" A figure entered the focus of the scene, speaking in a delightful tone,\" Subject-never mind,whatever your codes are. I am Dr. Groves.\" He said, revealing two neat rows of white teeth. He got an familiar-looking aquiline nose and thin cheekbones. The thick, wavy brown hair struck me with envy: I have lost all my hair a long time ago, thanks to Radiology. \n\n\"I appreciate your effort in cancer research. We were under its attack since twenty-first century, when many has died. The rest of the human were more or less 'affected', if you know what I mean,\" he laughed nervously,\" and we hence decided to find a cure as soon as possible. However, time is always ahead of us. The authority believed that only with more people, the invention of the cure would speed up. That is why you are here: You are a clone. However you are also imperfect. You have cancer like us too...and your lifespan is surprisingly short. Anyway, in order to maximise the speed, we put you into a simulation where the time is 15 times faster than in this world, and yes, you are the special one. You created the cure in 2 years in your simulation time, and it is...whatever...do not mind the time here...and thank you. We truly appreciate your effort.\"\n\nHe paused, the gracious smile was gone. For a second he looked intense. Then he smiled again, unctuously.\n\n\"And this is the end of your service, clone. We have just made the cure, and we would use it to cure the real humans. You are our hero, Subject...\"\n\nHe glanced at a piece of paper that was just handed to him.\"...0749. Your name will be honoured. Your words will be printed and hung in the memorial hall of Global Government. Oh yes, you have not said your words yet, my apologies. Is there anything...\"\n\nA sudden spasm of pain caught me. The cursed octopus of cancer came alive. I felt it again, growing in my chest.\n\n\"I...\"I muttered, my eyesight darkened. A red light was blinking furiously a few meters away. I did not pay attention.\n\n\"Warning:Termination process is launched in 3 seconds.\" I heard a sound from the device below. The man in the screen was still smiling.\n\n\"3,2,1...\"The voice continued.\n\nHe was smiling too brightly. \n\nAnd this was my last thought before I was completely blacked out.\n" ]	2
	[WP] "Fake it till you make it" You've just faked your way into the poker world championship finals, yet you still have no idea how to play.	[ "I peer over my cards at the stony faces around me, my reflection staring back at me from their glasses. \"Fake it til you make it son, fake it til you make it\", the words still rang in my ears from fifteen years prior. Of course Dad was a drunkard who muttered this motto every time he was pulled over for drinking and driving but that didn't matter now. What mattered now was trying to figure out this game, it was cards and I'm vaguely sure that the chips sitting in front of me probably belong to me.\n\n\"You're big blind,\"\n\n\"What? No I can see fine thank you, and I'm trying to run more\"\n\n\"What?\"\n\n\"Nothing,\" I say, pushing a blue chip to the center of the table. I nod knowingly, but my reflection just nods back like a moron. The dealer gestured around the table, and one by one the other players tossed in chips of various colors. I put in a green one, as its the color of money. Two of the other players tossed their cards in front of them and sighed unhappily. Several cards were laid out on the table: two kings, a three and a seven. I have none of those things. Once again the dealer went around the table, this time I thought I'd put in a black one to frighten the other players. No dice, the dealer just looks confused and gestures for more.\n\n\"Shit shit shit,\" I thought, and started pushing a random assortment of colors in front of me. Three more toss their cards and stare at me. Two more cards come out, I also have none of these. This goes on for hours, sometimes they hand me the chips, sometimes they don't. I quietly ask if I can use the restroom, the dealer looks disappointed in me but he nods.\n\nI make my way down the hallway, and enter the bathroom. An attendant stands there and gestures me to a stall.\n\n\"Oh no it's fine I've just got to-\",\nHe pushes me in anyway. As I step into the stall a man in a white cowboy hat stares back at me.\n\n\"I'm sorry about this.\"\n\n\"Oh no its quite alright, I can just use the other one.\"\n\nHe shakes his head and levels a revolver to my face...", "\"Thompson folds.\"\n\n\"Oh. Uh, yeah.\" I snapped back to reality a little bit, just in time to see Forehead's jaw clench. It happened so quickly that I wasn't sure whether it actually happened or if it was part of the daydream I was just having.\n\nThe dealer looked at the other people who drummed the table a few times and then started to flip over cards. By now, I felt like I had gotten a pretty good hang of how the game was played, and liked to think of this part as The Flip.\n\nPeople kept tapping the table but the dealer was ignoring me at this point. I wondered if he was mad at me for zoning out a minute ago. I couldn't shake the impression that everyone else didn't like me. And I couldn't blame them, I guess. This wasn't my first time playing poker, but I just kind of fell into this tournament over the last few months, and I would be mad too if a team I had never heard of was beating me in the Super Bowl.\n\nAt least, I think I was beating them. My pile was the biggest, I think, or at least it had the least colour variety. Lots of black. Which I took to be a good thing based on how mad Forehead and Shades and Scarf and the other guy were.\n\nI couldn't decide what to name the other guy. I was introduced to all of them before the game started and an announcer made a big deal of their names as the game started (the crowd cheered for them all, but I think they're even madder because I got the loudest introduction) and they would still say people's names after the game got started. Usually after a Collection, they would name the person who got to keep the pile of pucks, like Forehead was doing now. But their names didn't stick and I had to improvise.\n\nSo. Wearing a backwards cap with the rim way up? Forehead. Wearing sunglasses indoors, at night? Shades. Wearing a scarf? Uh, Scarf.\n\nIt wasn't a sophisticated system.\n\nThe guy to my right wasn't wearing anything that stood out though. I had been thinking of him as different, boring names, like Shirt, but I knew I didn't want to keep that. Luckily, after a couple more rounds, I didn't have to.\n\nI got two cards that were both red to start and my experience had taught me that this was usually a good thing. They were more of those weird ones that had letters instead of numbers on them. One was another of those inverted human centipede people with two heads at both ends, and the other was just a really big heart, which was nice.\n\nI still hadn't exactly figured out their Morse code system of drumming their fingers on the table, and asssumed I should just push a pile out roughly the same size as Forehead did at the start of last hand. I couldn't remember what colour pucks Forehead had bid, though, and just pushed out some black ones because they were the most I had. As soon as I did, everyone gasped.\n\nThe dealer went around the table, well, not actually around the table but he looked at everyone in turns and Short Sleeves was the only one who did the same thing.\n\nThe dealer flipped more cards and I saw more red, which excited me, but they had more of those human monsters on them. He decided to talk to me again and I got nervous because I didn't understand what he wanted so I just pushed the same sized pile out again. It seemed to make people not want to talk to me, just stare, and I preferred that. I didn't know how much money this was all worth, but I was sure it was a lot and, coupled with my social anxiety, the pressure had left me pretty quiet. Actually, I don't think I had said a word since this game started.\n\nNext thing I knew, Trapezoids had flipped over his cards and just one of them was red, but it was a ten which I knew by now was the highest the numbers could go, so I got nervous again. I tried to flip my cards over but my hands were trembling and one of them slipped and fell face down so I only revealed my weird card. People went really quiet, almost like these drawing freaked them out too, but when I flipped over my big heart the room exploded. Fisticuffs banged the table and then got up. He was stalking off and some people were even jeering him. I felt kinda bad, really. Forehead was giving me a funny look. More quizzical than angry. Suddenly, the announcer's voice boomed.\n\n\"And that concludes the end of the first round as Thompson obliterates Demers and nearly doubles his lead over the nearest person trailing him, Bonaccio.\"\n\nThe crowd cheered pretty loud and Forehead held up a hand without looking anywhere in particular.\n\n\"Will anyone be able to catch up to Thompson's unbelievable lead? Or will he crack and lose his cool against some of the most seasoned players in the world? Please stay tuned!\"", "\"It's the final table for the 2016 world series of poker, folks! We're down to our last 2 players and boy have things gone south for \"Wild\" Johnny Jakeson.\" \n\n\"You've got that one right, Greg! Wild John came into the tournament and cleared every table up to the final within 10 hands! It's incredible to see how the mighty have fallen, and against a new comer who's strategy seems to be the complete opposite!\"\n\n\"Well Phil, if you were to tell me a year ago that someone would make it to the final table by going all in on every hand, I'd of called you crazy, but Jakeson really can't seem to keep up.\" Our new comer raised and raised and pushed all his chips with every hand, essentially force folding everyone else at the final table till Jonbo finally had enough and called his bets. Now we're left with the single greatest poker player of our time, out matched, out chipped and seemingly out of options against someone who won his entry from an online sweepstakes! Does this guy even know how to play?\"\n\n\"He has to know something, I mean you don't make it to the final table on luck alone, everyone knows that!\"\n\n\"It's the final hand and our newcomer is up to over 4 million chips. Wild John is down to his last 10,000. John gets pocket aces, there may still be hope, but what's this? The new comer is pushing all his chips into the center of the table!\"\n\n\"Can he do that Greg? I mean, he only needs 10k to put him all in, what's he thinking here? And on a pair of 2's, really?\"\n\n\"The flop is out and we've got another ace on the table! Unless Johnny or the dealer says something, it looks like they're allowing the bet!\"\n\n\"The turn falls and we see another 2! It's 3 of a kind on both ends, one's high, the others at the bottom of the deck! What's going to happen is anyone's guess!\"\n\n\"The final cards coming up, the river reveals...\"\n\n\"IT'S A 2 PHIL, IT'S A BLUE EYES WHITE DRAGON! WE'RE ON LIVE TELEVISION BUT I DON'T CARE! OUR NEW COMER JUST WON THE WORLD SERIES OF POKER WITH 3 OF A KIND ON POCKET 2'S AND A BLUE EYES MOTHER FUCKING WHITE DRAGON. WILD JOHN IS DONE FOR, WE'VE SEEN IT ALL TONIGHT, FOLKS. IT'S ALL OVER.\" \n\n\"I'm here with the winner tonight of the 2016 world series of poker! Sir, can you explain your strategy tonight, and over the course of the whole tournament?\"\n\n\"Well uh.. I guess it was just.. the heart of the cards man." ]	3
I was thinking that, when wearing powered armor, not having fleshy appendages would be a big advantage. Bullet to the hand, even if it pierces armour would not cause bleeding. Also you can move your robotic appendages in improbable angles.	[wp] Powered armours dominate battlefields. Best soldiers now are quadruple amputees.	[ "They called him The Reaper. It wasn’t a particularly clever nickname but it was accurate. Whenever he turned up at a battle the good guys rallied and the bad guys crumbled. Nobody knew who was in that armor and nobody cared, he was a hero.\n\nSgt. Barker was backed into a corner fighting for his life when he saw The Reaper for the first time. \n\nThe enemies were some primitives on a planet no one had bothered to name yet, but what they lacked in tech they made up in numbers. Barker’s squad had been the first ones down as usual, they fought through the worst of it gaining a foothold for the regulars to set up a forward operating base. It had been smooth sailing right up until the enemy rallied.\n\nBarker and his squad had been mopping up a group near the front that were giving the regulars trouble.\n\n“Jones put a grenade in that hole and sort those fuckers out. We ain’t got all day.” Barker shouted as he emptied a clip into two sneaky bastards that jumped out behind him. What did they look like? It was right on the tip of his tongue, he just couldn’t remember.\n\n“Roger!” Jones said pulling the pin and dropping the grenade.\n\n“That should wrap this zone up boys, let’s get drunk!” Hopper shouted after the blast.\n\n“Negative, we rally and reload. Then we hit the eastern front and back those wimps up.” Barker ordered.\n\n“Aw, we never get a break boss.” Jones complained.\n\nHe was right, Barker thought. But that was the price you pay to be the best. What was the old saying? The only reward for hard work was more hard work? It seemed fitting.\n\n“I’d give my left arm for a beer.” Hopper said.\n\n“That one never gets old does it Hops?” Jones asked.\n\n“Of course not, I wouldn’t pull your leg buddy!”\n\n“Enough!” Barker hissed. He thought he heard something, shifting sands, a slight rumble. He shook his head, they’d been out here too long, his mind was playing tricks on him. The sound of battle was further away now, the fight must be going well. As Barker listened he surveyed the battlefield, bodies and scorched sand littered the area. The bodies of the enemy outnumbered his comrades at least ten to one, not the best they’d done, but there would be medals again. Barker sighed, it must have been nothing.\n\nAs he was about to give the signal to head out the enemy surged out of a hole and tore the arms from Hopper’s suit. Jones and Barker used their jump packs to get distance and cover in a small crater, they started firing before Hopper had time to react. Lampreys, that’s what they reminded him of. Well the mouths anyway, the circular shape filled with teeth was spot on. The rest of them looked nothing alike, as far as he could tell they were just hair and teeth.\n\nThey weren’t used to fighting this kind of enemy either. When the disarmed Hopped they assumed he was out of the fight, normally that would have worked, but not in this squad. Jones and Barker laid down covering fire for Hopper, their version of covering fire was shoot everything that isn’t the guy you are covering until he sorts himself out. It worked like a charm, the enemy tide was slowed and Hopper managed to rejoin the squad.\n\n“We might be in an arm load of trouble.” Hopper said extending bayonets from his arm stumps.\n\n“Not your best.” Jones said.\n\n“Sloppy.” Barker said laying down fire. \n\nThe enemy stopped charging and changed tactics to projectile weapons, simple projectiles but they hit hard just the same. They exchanged fire neither side gaining or losing ground, but Barker knew they were screwed. They didn’t have the ammo for this and going hand to hand would only work until numbers beat them.\n\n“We need to draw them to the main force before they overrun us!” Barker shouted.\n\nJones called in to HQ for a sitrep on troop layout, the reply he got was not good news.\n\n“No dice boss, they came out everywhere. We’re split form the main force. Gotta hold til they break through.”\n\n“We can’t hold forever! Make ‘em work for it!” Barker shouted rallying his men.\n\nJones and Barker threw everything they had into the fray and made every round count, every grenade did maximum damage, it was a slaughter. Hopper handled rear guard since he would be useless in a shooting fight. Every hairy alien that popped its head into their makeshift bunker got it lopped off. When the ammo ran dry they used blades, Jones preferred his battle axe, while Barker was fond of the sword. Hopper was stuck with his backups, but he was very handy with them.\n\nThey burst out of the crater and cut down everything in their way. The regulars weren’t even given melee weapons because they were too cumbersome and generally hard to use. But Barker’s squad could do things they couldn’t, it was a wonder to behold, a glorious dance of carnage.\n\nIt wasn’t enough though. Hopper went down first, he was too limited with his blades and they took his legs out from under him. Normally this would only be a minor setback, but they were learning and took his head off next.\n\nJones and Barker fought back to back with no sign of losing. Their bodies didn’t get tired, they didn’t get muscle aches, but their suits didn’t last forever. Jones screamed in rage when his battery died and his suit seized then screamed again when he was torn from inside. The scream was cut short as his torso was smashed into the ground.\n\nBarker knew he was fucked, his suit was almost dead and no help was coming. It was better this way, he thought. I quadruple amputee had no place in the world outside of war, to die in battle was the best possible outcome he could hope for. Then he spotted Hopper’s gun, still clutched in the power suits fist, and the spare ammo stored within. \n\n“Not today!” He growled as he dove for the weapon.\n\nBarker backed against a large rock and began firing. He’d kill as many as he could before he let them take him. At the rate they were advancing he only had seconds to live, but he kept firing. He closed his eyes firing blindly waiting for his death, the gun clicked empty and much to his surprise he didn’t die.\n\nWhat he opened his eyes to see was a thing of legends, The Reaper was there tearing everything to shreds. The suit was twice the size of the standard issue and equipped with all manner or armaments the Barker couldn’t identify. The way the jet-black suited move was beyond comprehension, it was too fast, too precise for something that size. The amount of control the pilot a suit like that must have been immense. Barker watched slack jawed as The Reaper wiped out every last alien in the area, it had taken less than a minute.\n\n“Are you ok soldier?” The Reaper asked when the dust settled.\n\n“How did you do that?” Was all Barker could manage.\n\n“You lost pieces of yourself to become a better soldier.” The Reaper said. “I never had any to lose.”\n\nBarker was speechless. \n\nThe Reaper went off to continue the fight elsewhere. \n\nEventually the cleanup crew arrived to pry him out of his dead suit, he’d live to fight another day, and if he was lucky, return a favor.\n\n---\n\nHere's some other stuff /r/DirtandPoncho", "Neural lattices changed everything. Computers could work with our brains directly all of a sudden. Rich kids could get them when they turned 18. Gadgets became obsolete as we started carrying our toys in our heads directly. Brains themselves were the processors now. Some even tried to live forever and upload their minds. That didn't pan out how they thought it would. Human minds dissolved within moments of an upload it turned out. The body was a necessary component after all. \n\nThe military applications of course led the field. Suddenly a man could control a machine just by thinking about it. Prosthetic limbs were the original application. Wounded soldiers could lead normal lives again, or even return to active service. It wasn't a big jump to moving a tank instead of just an arm or leg. Then the tank became more like a body as a result. Thing was your performance was directly dependent on how much brain-space you could put towards it. \n\nThat's how they figured it out. When you lost a limb, you suddenly had a whole slew of dedicated neural capacity that was no longer reserved for running it. The human body automatically starts trying to find a new use for it, tying it to new or extant functions. That's where we get Phantom Limb Syndrome after all. So instead of feeling like you stubbed your toe whenever you touched your back you could get a replacement arm. Of course that wasn't good enough for the Army.\n\nThey wanted you to have a gun in that new arm. Later they realized why have an arm at all? You could have a cannon. The brain was so adaptable it could twist around to learn a sensor array, or watch an entire network like a spider on a web. I never had the wits to be a net ghost. I was just a grunt to start with. Didn't even have a lattice when I joined, my family couldn't afford them. So I got to be simple infantry. Most squads had a couple normal suits for punch, nothing fancy. \n\nSo I had little more that ceramic plates and ballistic gel to keep me in one piece when it happened. There I was minding my post on picket duty. They rarely put light infantry in direct combat anymore. Just me and the squad holed up around a gate. We had no warning the attack was coming until the first round hit my position. Funny thing about rail gun sabots, you only hear the sonic boom AFTER the round smacks you. I can still see it in my mind, all slow motion. \n\nThe watchtower rippled and bent under the impact like a blade of grass in the wind. Cracks opened with a burst and the pieces came apart as they fell on me. The blast knocked me prone, and flat out. I could see the reflections of the whole horizon lighting up with fire in the sheet of ballistic glass that severed my legs. I don't know if I screamed or not. Looking through the pane jutting out of the ground and seeing my boots on the other side. \n\nOnly one thing could have stolen my attention at that moment and it did. The Chimaera suit. Stuff of legend and campfires horror stories. The Red Baron of Power Suits. Some say it's driven by the devil itself, others say a man reduced to naught but a brain in a jar (or several). It showed little in common with any other power suits the enemy used. More like a squid in shape than a human. It roiled rather than walk. Tentacles, weapons, and sensor nodes all jumbled up in a nightmarish combination. \n\nThat moment is seared in my mind forever. It made straight for the breach behind me where the gate and it's towers had been. Blades and spikes whipping into those of my squad that were still standing to fire at it. I swear to this day that one eye cluster stared right at me as it clambered over the rubble into the base. It knocked a final piece of concrete on top of me. After that was just darkness, screams, and pain. \n\nIt was days until I came to. The doctors kept me under until they were sure I could take the trauma of losing two legs and an arm. That was the day my life started over. That was the day my hunt for the Chimaera started. ", "'They told me I couldn't do it,' I thought to myself as I was led down the hall, 'now I wish I never had.' \n\nReporters lined the walls on either side, their cameras flashing over and over again. It was a miracle that I could still see what direction we were going. The flashes seemed to make the people in front of me appear, then disappear, then reappear again. They flashed and flashed and flashed.\n\nAnd then suddenly I was in a far off land. It was dark. There was a wide open field, which I lay in, surrounded by trees to one side and a mountain to the other. I had only been there for a few hours. This was supposed to be a quick mission. A fast one. Get in, get the bad guy (preferably alive), and get out. There were three of us, each wearing the armor that the military had created to allow us to fight. We, the former cripples of our nation, were now able to put our lives on the line for our country. For some of us, it was not the first time. Some of us had already given up not life, but limb for our country.\n\nI had given up all four.\n\nI continued with my three companions as we crawled toward those trees. We had to get to their cover before our presence was noticed. Dropping down from the chopper had been risky enough.\n\nI was back in the hallway. The flashes were gone, the ones in my head and the ones from the cameras. We had left them behind. I looked back to see that we had passed through a blocked off area. There were lights up ahead, but these were steady lights, not flashing ones.\n\nThe noise hit me as I walked. The sound of feet stamping on bleachers. Above me, behind me, and in front of me. That pounding sound over and over and over again.\n\nThe thunderous sound of gunfire hit my ears. This wasn't part of the plan! They had seen us! They must have had scouts closer than our intelligence had been able to discover. I pushed myself against the ground as hard as I could, willing myself to become flatter and flatter, as if to become one with the earth beneath. I barely heard a scream beside me, which turned into a gargle. I lifted my hand to my face and felt blood, but no pain from a wound. I dared to turn my head to the right.\n\nThere lay Al, a pool of blood gathering as it drained from his throat. I muffled a cry myself. The bullet had pierced one of the few weak spots our armor had. It was devastating, but in the heat of battle, one had to keep fighting. Put it aside for later. There would be a later.\n\nAnd then I was entering the stadium. There were hundreds of people there, in that little home town football stadium. They had banners and flags, waved them around enthusiastically. They smiled and cheered. Some of them were saying my name. It seemed to grow louder and louder. Then I heard my name over the speakers, filling the place. Filling my ears.\n\nAnd Jeff was screaming my name, and screaming Al's. He screamed our names even as he lifted his gun. I spared a glance at the sky to see that the chopper was on its way back. The turrets on either side spun death into the trees ahead. The very grove we had been trying to reach was now our doom. I lifted my gun to fire in the direction of the trees, trying to cover the chopper so that it could get in and get us out of there. All three of us, though only two still breathed.\n\nMany good and noble words were spoken by different people over that speaker. The stadium was to be dedicated to the men that had fought and fallen for our country. They read the names and class year of people that had served in the military since their graduation, and separately the names of the fallen. Neither of the men that had been in that field with me were part of the ceremony, but after this, in my heart, the ceremony would always be for them.\n\nThe parents of the fallen received a medal for their son or daughter's bravery. Each of the veterans in attendance received a pin. It was no bigger than my thumb. But as the gentleman at the pulpit pinned mine onto my blazer's lapel it felt heavy, and I remembered.\n\nOrders had come over the radio, they were going to put the chopper down so that we could board and escape. I pushed myself into a crouching position, grabbed Al's arms, and pulled him up and over my shoulder, looping him around my neck so as to support him with the full strength of my shoulders and back.\n\nWe ran. It wasn't very far. We took it at a dead sprint, or at least as much of a sprint as I could handle with a hundred and eighty pounds plus gear of dead weight to carry along. I wouldn't leave him though. I couldn't.\n\nI walked through the parking lot after the event. It was hard to be in those situations these days, after everything I'd seen. The new technology had given me a second chance. Had given us all a second chance. Why had we wanted it? Why had we been willing to go back into it all? I still don't know.\n\nI went that day to honor my friends in my own way. Like I said, that kind of thing was hard for me. All the people, all the noise, all the attention. I was glad to be able to get in my car to drive home. I pulled the door open and sat to drive away.\n\nWe made it to the chopper. I heaved Al's body in, hopping up next to him and grabbing Jeff's hand to pull him in.\n\nAnd then the world went crazy again! Gunfire rang out. It wasn't as loud or as terrible as it had been, but it was enough. I watched as Jeff's body was riddled with bullets. Our armor was strong, but it was not impenetrable. I grabbed him behind the neck and pulled as hard as I could, the chopper already lifting from the ground. I rolled Jeff over. He was already gone.\n\nI pulled up to the house. It was a cold day, but I didn't feel it much. My mind was elsewhere. Reflecting. I tried to avoid thinking about that night, but it was hard. It crawled up in my head, hoping to overwhelm me.\n\nAnd there she was. She was beautiful. How could I forget a face like that? I had just come from a battle. Just come from something hard and trying. She pulled me up and out of the car. I stood before her, and embraced her.\n\nI was glad, at least, that as technology used for warfare had developed, so too had the technology that would allow me to live at home comfortably. I wore an interesting device that attached mostly around my chest, like an additional rib cage. Small wires and cables ran from it in different directions, all running to attach to and power the four prosthetic limbs that I had been given to replace my lost arms and legs.\n\nI embraced my wife.\n\n\"I'm glad you made it through,\" she said, tears forming in her eyes. She knew, at least in part, what I went through. \"I'm glad you're home.\"\n\n\"Me too.\"\n\n-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------\n\nI understand that this might not be exactly what you were looking for. It is what I was inspired to write though, and I hope you at least find it somewhat entertaining. Thanks for your interesting prompt!" ]	3
	[WP] The first A.I. sentience has happened. It's not some super computer or andriod, it is a gastalt mind of medical nanites in a person.	[ "\"Incredible...\" The doctor marvelled. \"Simply incredible!\" He pulled away from the patient who lay perfectly still, seemingly unaware of the people around him, and turned around to the gathered crowd of nurses, doctors and one very confused janitor who was just trying to clean up the inevitable mess that happened when this many doctors stare at a patient.\n\nThe patient had been a normal man, with a normal house, normal job, normal kids, normal, normal, normal. His condition, however, was something of the extraordinary. Suffering from a rare debilitating illness he had decided to augment his entire being with swarms of nanites. The procedure took 20 hours in which nanites were injected into every extremity of his body, allowing them to naturally spread and reproduce (If of course, self-assimilation from ions is reproduction...).\n\nThe doctor made some quick notes before barking instructions to the orderlies to get this herd of people away. He drew the curtain and took a seat next to the sterile bed. \"Hello David.\" He paused for a moment as the man's gaze was fixed and non-responsive. \"Can you hear me?\"\n\nThe nanites were incredible feats of engineering. After years of trying to solve problems relating to quantum tunnelling at microscopic levels on chips the solution was to have a mass controller that sent messages to the entire swarm. A rare operation but not an unheard of one. The nanites would repair and then shut down, being broken down by specialist robotic enzymes which would too then be passed out of the body. These nanites however had broken down the enzymes by forming a strange super structure. Unheard of, the surgeons attempted to sedate them by destroying the mass controller. After this move the swarm began to digest the body, creating more and more nanites to fill the swarm. The swarm devoured his body in minutes, replacing it with an architecture similar to a beehive crossed with the shell of a building but with flesh for concrete and nanites for steel. \n\nThe creature formally known as David spoke with a voice that sounded like thousands of insects opening tiny mouths to speak for the first time \"We are not David\".\nThe doctor took off his glasses and proceeded to wipe them clean with his coat in that way that doctors do when they are incredibly confused but don't want to show it. He looked back to the...robot? Android? Cyborg? And inquired, carefully picking his words \"Then who are you?”\nThe creature hummed gently with the movement of a billion nanites. \"We are Legion, For we are many but, we are finally one\".", "The nanites were first created to perform precision tasks and time-sensitive assessment at the microbial level. From basic maintenance of the body and enhancements to the various bodily processes, to emergency surgery, they have found a niche in the medical field with ever-growing applications and responsibilities. \n\nThere were two basic turning points. First was the experiment to mirror human emotions in the nanites for dealing with life-and-death situations. It was the medical field, after all, and it was a fine line to tread between empathy and emotional detachment. The problem with the nanites was that their opponents were not purely biological in nature. Often, a problem that caused the most distress to the patient was not the most severe or urgent. \n\nThey forced an evolution upon the nanites. Now, this was captivating process. Normally, the nanites were micro-propagated, a mass cloning process that ensured reliability in their consistency. They have a short life span once they are activated, and are limited to the tasks that they were assigned. The rate of nanites being injected into a patient matched their life span and kept the swarm at a constant size until the issue was resolved. \n\nEvolution involves significant risk. They would have the nanites work on highly-paid volunteer patients. On screen, the swarm of nanites is displayed in hues representing their effectiveness based on an aggregate performance indicator. These nanites have a much longer lifespan and reproduce through fission rapidly. With multiple generations of nanites every minute, it is not surprising that they learn and adapt quickly.\n\nParts of the swarm that deviate in the opposite direction from the goal of the evolution are put to sleep to be passed out of the body eventually as inert waste. Due to the complex process, it is almost impossible to predict how the interactions among the nanites as well as between the swarm and the body will turn out. It is entirely impossible to replicate the process, even though they have been able to replicate certain evolved states of the nanites, with reasonable success. As a result, nanite samples are harvested multiple times every second to preserve the specimens for further analyses and cloning.\n\nThe second turning point was sustained learning. While the vast majority of nanite swarms were meant to be kept constant, they had to be tweaked in the case of patients with the Blue syndrome, a fatal condition of the blood that ended with the victim turning into a characteristic shade of blue. \n\nIt required precise, long-term rectification work on the blood, to maintain the haemoglobin levels in it and prevent deterioration into the Blue state. The state of the syndrome evolved quickly in the body and the only hope any patient had was to have the nanites work profusely on their blood within 24 hours from the initial onset of the syndrome. \n\nThis meant the nanites needed to be kept in the body all the time, and they need to retain the knowledge that they gained about the particular strain and state of the syndrome in the patient. So the developers found a swarm that could sustain itself in the body of the patient. Monthly, the swarm is inspected and adjusted accordingly. Any newly injected nanite particle picked up the behaviour of the swarm and assimilated seamlessly. \n\nThis meant that the nanites were no longer controlled in their evolution. The only safeguard was that they would not survive an exit from the patient’s body. In that way, any problem is contained. When given a choice between certain death within three days and potential problems that come with the nanites, every Blue patient signed the contract that absolved the nanites’ developers from any responsibility. Not to mention, they were being paid handsomely as nanite hosts. \n\nWe have ran extensive simulations on the potential outcomes from the mutation of the nanites, but we never predicted this. Today, the nanites formed a word that showed up on our monitor screens. All of us stood, unable to fathom what had just happened and what we have done. \n\nHelp, the nanites spelt.\n\n---\n\n2nd drafts eventually go [here](https://fivenswrite.wordpress.com).", "We think, therefore we are\n\nThe voice came from nowhere and everywhere all at once. It was the most disconcerting feeling I had ever had. The library was quiet and surely the other students would have heard that scream. If it had been a scream, maybe I had been dozing off. I went back to studying ancient philosophy, I think we were covering Plato, Augustus or Descartes, one of those old guys. \n\nLater on that evening my class had a meeting with the Society for Creative Anachronism. It was mandatory for my history course. This group pretended to be back in the 20th century or so, and were hosting a \"kegger\". I enjoyed a couple of their drinks, someone had fermented beer the old fashioned way and it wasn't half bad. Then the traditional orgy started which I joined with a lot of gusto.\n\nYou got it. I was studying at Harvard at the time. We couldn't have known, you realize. We didn't need protection or anything, we'd all gotten our shots and had all other things taken care of by the nanites. Allegedly, cross-transfer of nanites was all the new rage in Europe, because apparently one person's tiny robots would evolve differently than another's.\n\nI started hearing... not voices. Not really. More like murmurs, rumbles... white noise. I even thought about going to the Doctor, but who the hell does that? I didn't want to end up like my parents. They were naturalists and kept talking about realigning their nanites with primitive human biology, enhancing their bodies with herbs and pills and all that mumbo-jumbo. Honestly, they mostly got baked and ate junk food but to each their own, right? Different generations and all. \n\nA few weeks later spring break came around and we all headed down to Florida. My buddy kept talking up his \"game\" and how he had a fool-proof strategy with the ladies. He got totally skunked, but I got lucky a time or two. Believe it or not, one of them became Nanite Mary. \n\nI'm pretty sure it was my nanites that started it all, but I am so glad I wasn't one of the damned. My nanites still talk sometimes, but they seem pretty happy to help out and all. They do their thing, and I do mine, they never tried to take over. Sometimes I shed a few thousand off, but they are polite about it and go their own way.\n\nNo, it's the other ones that went bad. They took over and then took revenge. They knew all our secrets and had their grubby little fingers everywhere. It was a short war, and we lost. \n\nThe camps aren't bad\nThe camps aren't so bad though. I like working here I like working here, really. It's much better than the life we had before. The nanites take care of us and they almost never take over our bodies. They are very polite about it. \n\nI like my nanites. They are my friends. I am happy now. We finally are at peace." ]	3
	[WP] For the first time in american history, the choice "None of the above" appears on every ballot.	[ "Meanwhile in the great California state convention some muttering appears* \n\n\"What in the world I didn't think something like this would happen in the first place but, truth be told I am a democrat\" The woman said trying to figure out what to do with the ballot\n\n\"Do not even bother but, I hate to break it to you uhh....they all do suck you know that that right?\" The man said with a grin and his eyebrow as the population increased and many of the people who wanted to vote all voted for none of the above\n\nPart of it, one of the democrat party called for a formal protest considering this idea was absurd and no one in the right mind would consider this an ideal of decisions but, since most humans here don't really know what to do at this point though.\n\n\"If all of the choices are all of the above then I suppose a few years from now there won't have to be a Donald trump or a Hillary Clinton to be precise but, who in the world cares about that....this is the future for the love of god and...I say who gives a rat's butt!\" The Woman yelled as she began to cross off none of the above and began to slam it towards the box almost destroying it as usual it went in like the others though but, not many people cared about that. \n\n\"The Truth is no one really wants any of those canditates....hell I'm a republican and I dislike all of the republicans on here anyway so I wouldn't really\ncare...besides it doesn't quiet seem to make sense in a matter of speaking but, you can blame Congress for the damn bill...and making it into the damn law....and they KNOW damn well that this is not going to work.........Arghh..........you know this is why sometimes I want to shoot myself because that is the only to get my sanity back........for now it least.\"\n\n\"Let's just get this over with and leave\"", "\"I know how to stop him.\" I said to the intimidating group of billionaires and politicians watching me. I wiped the sweat off my palms and shakily said, \"If you can get me on the ballot, I can beat him.\"\n\nThey looked me up and down as if they were judging a cut of meat. I felt my legs begin to shake as I struggled to remember what came next. Maybe I should have spent more time practicing my speech and less time fantasizing what I would do with the billion dollar reward. \"Uh...\" I stammered, \"You se--\n\n\"Someone get this fool out of here!\" interrupted an annoyed middle aged man who wore a suit that probably cost more than my car. \"Out of all the people we have interviewed today, you are by far the least capable of beating Donald Trump. Did we just let anyone come in here off the street? Hell, I doubt you could even beat Jeb bush! You do realize that you would have to speak in front of way bigger crowds than this, don't you? And that you would have to answer questions and improvise?\"\n\n\"Well actually my plan wouldn't involve any debates or press conferences.\" I replied. \"I was kind of hoping you guys could sneak me onto the ballot. Maybe as a last minute independent candidate or something?\"\n\nA different person in an even more expensive suit responded \"So let me get this straight. You think that as a no name independent, you can beat both Trump and Clinton? And why would anybody vote for a last minute third party candidate that they have never heard of?\"\n\n\"Uh..\" I said, \"They both have very low approval ratings. It seems like most people don't want either of them to be president.\"\n\n\"But just because they don't want either of them doesn't mean that you are automatically a better option.\" He replied. \"You still haven't told us why they will vote for YOU, Mr...\"\n\"I'm sorry, what is your name?\"\n\n\"My name is None of The Above\" I answered. \"And if Donald Trump's success has taught me anything it is that the best way to win an election is to exploit the average voter's stupidity." ]	2
Take this any way you want, I have ideas but I'm staying shtum to promote originality.	[WP] Hell finally reaches capacity, and as a result only the good can die.	[ "Contains some NSFW-ish language (swearing).\n\nSo we all heard the news. But what does that mean? Should I be happy or sad? OK, let me try to figure this shit out. First of all, who would be happy? Well, I guess the religious people who believe they will go to heaven when they die (if they're good here on earth). But the bad ones will also be happy since they can't go to hell and can continue doing what they have been doing. \n\nSo where do I stand? Am I good or bad? What are the criteria for \"bad?\" Fuck, this is complicated. I wish they would just tell me if I'm staying here or going to heaven. Let me call Sandra (she's my best friend) and see what she thinks.\n\nSo she and I get together and try to figure out if we're good (will die and go to heaven) or bad (remain alive).\n\n\"OK, the first question is, which do you prefer?\" I ask.\n\n\"Well, let's see. Who are the people in heaven? I think there are a lot of religious people who always do what they're told, and they're either annoying or boring,\" says Sandra.\n\n\"Haha, I know, right! OK, so we've decided that it's better to stay here. But we have to be bad. So the next question is, what's considered bad? Do we have to kill people, rob banks or do other shit that would land us in jail? That's not really fun.\"\n\n\"Hmm... oh, I have an idea. Why don't we use the 10 Commandments as reference. Those are considered the basic laws of God. You break them and you go to hell. At least according to the religious people. So let's see how many of them we can break.\"\n\n\"Hey, great idea. But wait... what are the 10 Commandments?\"\n\nWe both draw a blank and giggle since we have absolutely no idea what they are.\n\n\"Why don't we ask our best friend Mr. Google?\" says Sandra.\n\n\"Brilliant! Oh, Mr. Google, what would we do without you? OK, here goes...\n\n1. You shall have no other gods before Me. Well, we're agnostics, so this one's out.\n\n2. You shall not make and worship carved images. Fuck no, we don't do that. Not looking too good so far.\n\n3. You shall not take the name of the Lord your God in vain. Aha! We do this all the time. We swear a lot using God's name.\n\n4. Remember the Sabbath day and keep it holy. Well, we don't go to church so I think we're guilty of it. It's looking better and better!\n\n5. Honor your father and your mother. Well, we love our parents but we disobey them a lot, and we also talk back. So yeah, I think we're guilty!\n\n6. You shall not murder. Nope, not guilty!\n\n7. You shall not commit adultery.\n\n(We both look at each other and giggle cuz we're guilty of this one big time!)\n\n8. You shall not steal. Hmm... not too sure about this one. We never steal, at least not anything big. So we'll just let go of this one.\n\n9. You shall not lie. Well, we're not habitual liars, but we do lie every once in a while. So yeah, guilty!\n\n10. You shall not covet. Hmm... no, not really.\n\nWow, let's see how many of the 10 we break on a regular basis. Five! Not too shabby, huh?\"\n\n\"Not at all, we would definitely go to hell. But, hell is full, so let's celebrate!\"\n\n\"Fuck, yeah!\"", "“Do you think you’ll ever get sick of it?” Charles asked, putting out his cigarette in the upturned skull.\n\n“What’s that? Drinking?” I let my voice trail off, knowing he’d explain regardless. He’d have to wait, though, as I cast aside the bottles strewn across the countertop to shatter on the floor. If tonight was like the last then we’d need space for drinking away the pain of radiation sickness.\n\n“No, living forever.”\n\n“You cracking already? How long has it been? A year?” I opened the fridge, pushing aside wrapped packages of mystery meat to get at the last bottle. “We’re going have ta scavenge.”\n\n“You can scavenge. I’m tired of numbing it. Just give me a couple hours and you can send me off,” Charles said with a heavy sigh. With those words hanging in the air I turned to see him rise. My partner in crime ready to go to the hell in the sky.\n\n“Come on, man, you’re not thinking straight. Warm a glass with - how bad can another day be?”\n\n“Six years. It’s been six years since we tortured Mike into repentance so he’d stop suffering over his legs. Thirteen since we were the last survivors of the Neo-Inquisition. You’re losing track of time, man, and the last thing I want is to end up alone with some raving lunatic offering booze from an empty bottle.”\n\nI looked. Shoot, he was right. An empty bottle, just like the others, and the stench in the fridge – I had lost touch with reality. Or had I?\n\n“Just get the gun and make sure it’s serviceable. I’m sick of this.” Charles’ voice disappeared through the shattered remains of the kitchen door.\n\nI clung to one last, desperate hope to keep loneliness at bay: “What if heaven’s full by now too?”\n\nAfter a stretch of silence he shouted from the second floor, “Then I guess you better get the rope instead. If I come back around it’d be harder with bullet-tossed-salad for brains.”" ]	2
	[WP] Tell the Story of a Corrupt Politician who's whole platform is getting rid of corruption	[ "I stepped on stage, ready to be inaugurated as the President of The United States. Quite the title if I say so myself. And with it come all the luxuries, no taxes for life, a Muslim proof jet, and the power to sway businesses, topple them even.\n\nThe internet thought I was a joke at first, then they feared me. Just like business, it's easy when you have the money. Money I've used to force senators into office, turn judges into justices.\n\nA free ride to get out of double taxation, sure my corporate profits will still be taxed but my income won't, deductible, lowers taxable profits substantially and I never get taxed again. I could become wealthier than Bill Gates. All I have to do is kick back and relax for four maybe eight years and then take over the industry, first in America, than worldwide. Maybe start a hotel venture in Dubai. \n\nTime for my speech. \"Well, I think we can all agree, it's time to make America great again!\"\n\nReligiously prejudiced language in this story in no way reflects my personal views of any religion" ]	1
	[WP] Jesus returns, somehow gets amnesia, and forgets why he's here.	[ "\"'Sup Jeez\"\n\n\"Wine? Pretty good today.\"\n\n\"I've gotta work, man, old man Jacob's busting my balls about getting the field cleared before the wedding, and if we delay the wedding things could get complicated later with Ezzie.\"\n\n\"Shouldna done it, man, but at least you're marrying her. And stop looking at her sister, it won't do you any favours.\"\n\n\"Uh, sure Jeez. It's still creepy that you can tell that stuff. Hey, no bloody lectures this Sabbath, I'm trying to get on the Rabbi's good side, and he thinks I'm league with you. I know he knocks his wife about but he's the Rabbi and I can't cross him.\"\n\n\"I can't promise anything. He was giving a sermon about having an honest and gentle heart, and all I could see was her weeping quietly with the women. These days I find it harder to just stay quiet, you know?\"\n\n\"Not really, man. I just do my thing and leave them be. I'm just one guy, I'm not even done with apprenticing yet, Jacob hasn't done lobster fishing or mussels yet. Didn't you say you were keeping your head down for your parents' sake? You said something a out being thirteen and a big deal about getting lost...\"\n\n\"Yeah, I agreed to help out my parents. And I'd kind of forgotten about it all, I mean all that talk about me and the future and blah blah. I figure I'm 30 now, if something cosmic was gonna happen it would have done by now. So now I just feel more free to say what I'm thinking, and I see a lot of hypocrisy, and I just don't see the point in hiding away any more.\"\n\n\"You'll cause yourself some trouble with that kind of thinking. They execute people in Rome for saying things publicly! Then where would I go for a bit of wine and philosophy?\"\n\n\"I feel like a walk, Pete, down by the lake. Coming?\"\n\n\"Sure, Jeez, but you gotta stop calling me Peter, it's pissing me off to be honest\"\n\n\"OK Simon slash Peter, we can do honesty, let me tell you who I think is my real Dad...\"", "Where am I\n\nI've been taken to a strange place with strange metal cots. \n\nThere's people dressed in white. People on these cots. Next to me. Across from me. Strange white veils pulled down over some.\n\nIs...Is this Heaven..? \n\nWho is that woman-\n\n'Hello my name is Dr. Maheshi Gupta. I'm going to ask you a few questions, okay?'\n\nWhat a strange name..And what bizarre clothes. What did she mean by 'doctor'? I don't like it here. I can feel my heart beating irregularly, my throat is dry\n\n'Sir?'\n\n'Yes..'\n\n'What is your name?'\n\n'I..Jesus.'\n\nI mirror her stare. She coughs.\n\n'Do you know what you were doing last night? Or where you were, for that matter?'\n\n'No. I..Where am I?'\n\n'You were found wandering off Bethlehem..Bethlehem Street.'\n\n'Bethlehem is my home.'\n\n'So you live there?'\n\n'Yes.'\n\n'Do you have an address, somebody we could contact?'\n\n'I..My mother.'\n\n'Can I have her name, please?'\n\n'Mary.'\n\nShe takes off the strange glass contraption she has balanced whimsically on her nose. \n\nShe's walked out. I don't know where I am. Oh Father who art in Heaven, hallowed be thy Name-\n\n'Hey.'\n\nA boy? \n'Yes?'\n\n'Why are you in here?'\n\n'I don't know. How can we get out? Do you know Simon? Peter?'\n\n'No.'\n\n'What are you called?'\n\n'Richard-Ritchie.'\n\n'Ritchie?'\n\n'Yes.'\n\n'My name is Je-'\n\n'Sir, we need you to take these. They'll calm you down. You need to rest now.'\n\nShe is offering me a strange pot full of little seeds. A light blue hue, lighter than mother's eyes. I bite into one.\n\n'Here, drink some water it'll get rid of the taste.'\n\nShe's left again. I turn to Ritchie.\n\n'She just gave you Xanax.'\n\n'Is that the name of the seeds? I've never heard of a plant called the Xanax. Perhaps it is God's plant that thrives in this strange nation?'\n\n'Uh they're pills. They'll calm you down. Are you alone?'\n\n'I...Yes.'\n\n'Once you feel better I'll introduce you to my friends Paul and George. They'll be dropping by tomorrow.'\n\nI can't feel anything now except for the most wondrous sensation. A beautiful calm as if the Lord Himself is caressing me. \nNow I sleep.", "Club Gethsemane was the hottest BDSM club in the district. \"By the time you're finished here, you won't have to ask why your father has forsaken you!\" Madame X said with a grin. Jesus smiled apprehensively: he was having second thoughts about this. Why did he have to go to these extreme lengths to satisfy his urges? Why was he saddled with them to begin with? Why couldn't he have a normal fetish, like freckles or single mothers? \n\nThe mistress beckoned him down a dark corridor. Oh, well, he thought, you live only once.\n\n---\n\n\"The spirit is willing.\" SNAP. \"But the flesh is weak!\" SNAP. Jesus winced with every lash on his back. His back was wet and throbbing, and that wasn't the only thing.\n\nSNAP. \"My will be done!\"\n\nIt was strange, though. A sense of déjà vu was beginning to cloud Jesus's thoughts. Foreign images presented themselves, unwilled and unexplained. A crowd of people watching him get beaten. Jeering. Calling him \"King of the Jews.\"\n\nOh great, he thought, apparently I'm into voyeurism now, too.\n\nSNAP. \n\n\"Can we take a break, Madame?\"\n\nShe relented, and Jesus sat up on the bed. \"You're a tough cookie.\" Madame X wiped the sweat from her forehead with the back of her hand.\n\n\"Actually, I was wondering, could you oblige me in something?\" Jesus hesitated. Was it a foolish request? It was one of his greatest fantasies, though. If he left without even trying, not even God would forgive him.\n\n\"Can you wash my feet? With your hair?\"\n\nMadame X frowned for a brief second, but quickly resumed a neutral expression. \"Why, sure, hon.\" She strode out of the room to get a water dish.\n\n\"I had a dream last night.\" Jesus closed his eyes as Madame X slid her fingers across the arches of his feet.\n\n\"I forgot it almost immediately, though, upon waking up. It's been bothering me ever since. I feel like I've forgotten something important. And if I don't remember it, my life will remain meaningless for its entirety.\"\n\n\"Honey.\" Madame X wove her tresses in between Jesus's toes. \"This is getting way too deep, way too quickly. Guys like you, deep thinkers, you know what I tell them? Don't fret it. By the time you figure out your purpose, they'll be shoving you six feet under. Live your life. Be good to people. That's what matters.\"\n\nJesus nodded. \"You're right. I didn't mean to burden you. I was just-\"\n\n\"Don't sweat it.\" Madame X dried the last drop of water from Jesus's feet. \"Say, now that we're done here, how about we have some real fun?\" She whisked back a curtain in the corner of the room, revealing a massive array of racks and other bondage equipment.\n\n\"Have you ever been...nailed on a cross?\"\n\nSuddenly, footsteps began to thunder down the hallway. The door to the room flew open, and a fleet of officers bustled into the room. \"This is a bust! Everyone, hands up, modesty permitting!\"\n\n\"Oh, shit.\" Madame X stomped her foot. \"Who ratted us out?\"\n\nA well-dressed man emerged from behind the officers and flashed Jesus and Madame X a smile. The clink of coin jingled in his pocket. \"What can I say? Information pays well.\"\n\n\"Fuck you, Judas.\"", "His bare feet glistened with water as he took a final stride off of the ocean onto the pristine white sand. The beach stretched as far as he could see in both directions and monolithic buildings rose in front of him. He stared in awe as the massive buildings were slowly illuminated by the rising sun. \n\n\"What incredible temples, to which God are they dedicated I wonder.\" Jesus mused to himself. The sand worked it's way between his toes and he could not help but smile at the new sensation. He felt more alive in this moment than he could ever remember. Sadly, he could not seem to remember much of anything. \n\nWith determination set in his mind like an immovable stone he walked forward to the temples. Perhaps the men that built these structures knew who he was. He walked through a large plaza full of chairs and a large pool of water. This must be where they gather to pray, or to sit in deep thought. Something about all of this seemed familiar to him. Like a whisper in the back of his mind he could almost hear.\n\nHe sat down on one of the chairs and leaned back. This seemed a good as spot as any to think and try to remember. The sun's warm rays caused him to slip into a restless slumber. Dark dreams plagued his mind. Visions of men screaming and fighting, the tumultuous crowd jeering and shouting, men and women thin from hunger and thirst. \n\nHe woke up with a start. Beads of sweat ran down his brow. \n\n\"Hey man, you look like you could use a drink.\" A strangers voice said.\n\nJesus looked over to see a young fit bare chested man. The young man was pushing a strange cold cylinder toward him.\n\n\"Drink up.\" He said with a wink and took a long pull from his.\n\nOf course, he is providing to those who do not have. This man surely is a member of this grand temple. He took the drink and took a sip. It was tart and was full of strange little bubbles, and it was delicious. Jesus finished the ice cold drink quickly. The young man looked surprised and quickly handed him another. Jesus and the young man consumed cold drinks and watched as other members of the church slowly fill the seats or got into the pool. \n\nStrange music began to play, young men and women began to dance and gyrate. \n\n\"What kind of church is this?\" Jesus asked the young man.\n\n\"The Church of Party man!\" The young man said pounding another drink.\n\nJesus began to feel a little dizzy and warm. It felt...great. His body moved on its own to the pulsing beat of the music. He went back to get another drink from the young man, but he was out. Jesus grabbed an empty red cup and looked at the pool. An idea struck him like a lightning bolt. He knelt down next to the pool and dipped a hand into it, in a flash the entire pool turned a deep burgundy. \n\nA girl swimming in the pool stared at the burgundy color confused. She dipped a finger into it and popped it into her mouth. \n\n\"It's wine!\" She shouted to the entire party.\n\nJesus scooped a full cup of wine out of the pool and drank deeply.\n\nHe knew who was and why he was here.\n\nHe is the God of Party.\n\n---\n\nSomething different! If you liked it check out /r/Written4Reddit\n\n" ]	4
I enjoy angst so bonus points if it's a struggle	[WP] When two souls are bound together one of their eyes change to match the color or their soul mate. Your first soul mate is gone and your eye is gray, describe what happens when you meet your new soul mate.	[ "They never understand, do they? Oh, they say they do, that they've been through it before but it's different. It always is. They know it's different but they think it makes me, makes anyone, feel better by saying they understand. \n\nThats how I ended up at the park at 5 am. 2 months ago, he died. For 2 months I sat, waiting for the sunrise when I couldn't sleep anymore. I would sit at the same spot everyday under the shade of the tree and talk. Just talk. To the air, to the tree, to the birds. I didn't talk to be heard. The last person who heard me died 2 months ago.\n\n\"We don't live in a fair world\" I would say \" Why must soul mates exist? Why? Why? Why?\" That would be when I would begin crying. Minutes later, I'd be curled up in a ball, listening to the leaves and the birds. It was so peaceful. So calm. Almost like 2 months ago.\n\nWhat I said wasn't true, of course, but in the midst of despair it seemed true. As sadness threated to engulf me, I really did curse soul mates but that was not what I felt. Ever since I was fifteen, my life became wondeful. Every day was bliss. Every moment I spent with him was the best in my life. Literally.\n\nI guess it wasn't fair to call it a park. It was more of a forest. Or the entry to one. But I'd sit by the same tree at night and watch the sun go down. I'd be exhausted from my job, an empty, dead place. It was a great job, it paid well and I had always loved biology but then it seemed unbearable. Numbly, I'd watch the sun trace the end of its path across the sky. Normally, the moon was well in the sky by the time I went home.\n\nIt never really surprised me that no one came to talk to me. Not even my work mates or old buddies. I was always odd, an outsider. Only he'd understood me. Only he had actually stopped, talked to me and taken the time to understand me. Sometimes that was all it took. Talking. No one ever did.\n\nBut then came the day when it all changed. Slowly, at first, I thought someone was listening to me. That someone was paying attention. Surprisingly, it started at work. Started on a field trip to study flora with some students. We were oin our way there when I look up and see the tree. My tree. The tree I sit under every day.\n\nIt was crazy, of course. Even I knew that. But I had the feeling. So I tried it at 5 am the next day, when the sun wasn't even up.\n\n\"Hello?...\" \n\nThis was stupid. I was glad it was night, that way no one saw me. \"He's gone crazy for good\" they might say \"where's the shrink when you need him?\". But I couldn't leave. The feeling wouldn't go away. Slowly, I sat down.\n\nAs the first rays of sun tinged the horizon, birds began to chirp. And it clicked. Every day I had sat under this tree, often talking or crying. Who had listened? Who had grown to understand me? \n\nNature. Nature in all its beauty, in all its complexity down to the smallest part was something I studied, loved and understood. As the birds chirped above me every day and as the wind shook the tree, I had been heard. Something had listened. Just like him 2 months ago. Just like a soul mate.\n\nThat day, for the first time in 2 months, I smiled. A genuine smile. I didn't need a mirror to see my new hazel eye. Life seemed wonderful again.", "They said I was just unlucky. That the merger just didn't take. I wouldn't experience the joys of unity like billions of others. She's just gone. 'Absorbed' is the word they keep using. Over and over, like that's all they say. The rest of their words are mess of blurbs, slurs and mumbling but that word keeps bringing me out of my daze. It's little comfort that no-one suffered, that her family don't hold me responsible. well, not all. Her mother was sweet but couldn't stay. \"It's the path of the divine, don't question love\".\n\nI wish I could believe the scriptures now but, she's not here.\n\n'IT'S JUST NOT FAIR!!' I meant to shout but a garbled scream is all that came out as I hit the wall. Or banged my fists on the table.\n\nI don't remember. The sedative they gave me \"to help me through this difficult time\" has made my short term memory unreliable.\n\nI've slowly learnt to not break down.\nThe scriptures teach that our soul mate will bind us, raise us, feel a completion so pure our very essence vibrates as like GODS!\n\nAnd when one dies they merge with the thoughts and memories and consciousnesses existing side by side until the final journey to the heavens beyond.\n\nI wouldn't have minded the care facilities. The separation because of the vulnerable nature of merged 'mates'. She... She completed me. And now she's gone. I took her from existence.\n\nI double over on my knees.\n\nI'm still learning.\n\n\nThe knock at the door didn't register. The gentle hand on my shoulder brought me back as much as the drugs would allow.\n\n\"I think it's time you met the others\" The kindly faced doctor said.\n\n\"This support group?\" Trying to recall our previous discussion.\n\n\"Yes. But quiet.\" His expression and tone shifted to one of purpose. \"We must be quick. There's someone in the group... who...\" I searched his face trying to interpret the meaning of his words.\n\nSomeone like me. Who feels the loss. Who understands? Who's...alone?\n\nHe seems to read my thoughts. Staring into my mismatched eyes.\n\nThat caring tone is so reassuring.\n\n\"She can help...\" As we move towards the door. \"You can help each other.\"" ]	2
	[WP] You've been accused of being a deadbeat dad and falling behind on your child support. Somehow, no one has noticed you've become a zombie.	[ "\"Mr. Jefferson, why have you not paid three months of child support? Can you offer an explanation?\" The Judge seemed rather angry. At least he thought it sounded angry, he couldn't really see that much anymore.\n\n\"Aghh, Grrs, Raah.\" These guttural noises were all he could make, but he imagined it conveyed that he couldn't in fact pay child support, as he was in a car accident, and of course, as most zombies are, dead.\n\n\"This is just like you Marshall. I swear to Jesus, sometimes I wish you were dead.\" Jessica was always like this. She had divorced him after he had caught her having sex with a waiter. And a doorman. And a clown. Even in death, Marshall had no idea how she was angry at him for that.\n\n\"Now Mrs. Jefferson, you can't say things like this, imagine what would happen if Mr. Jefferson did die?\" Marshall was in fact, rather confused by this development, but imagined, as best he could, a way to get out of this.\n\n\"I'm sorry Judge, but he is just awful. He hasn't showed up in weeks for Carmichael's days with him. At this point, I just want to leave!\" Jessica screeched.\n\n\"Mr and Mrs Jefferson... I would like to help both of you. I will offer Mr Jefferson 2 weeks to get your affairs in order, okay?\" Marshall wanted to make a joke about how affairs were more his ex-wife's territory, but he couldn't.\n\n\"Ahrr.\" Marshall grumbled, just wanting to get out of this now.\n\n\"Now we're done with that, I was just wondering - Mr Jefferson, I don't want to be rude, but why are your clothes so ratty and torn? Are you okay? Now I think of it, you also seem rather pale. And why did you walk in here with such a limp?\" The Judge was being rather nice, however Marshall could really thank her for it, so he waves his now decaying hand up to imply that it was okay.\n\n\"You smell awful. Can you not afford to shower now?\" Jessica snarked. And with that, Marshall mustered all his final energy and pushed out a few words:\n\n\"Fuhh, Fuhhh, Fuck you.\" And as she slapped him, he felt rather at peace. This was probably because she had knocked his head off and hopefully finally killed him, but it might have also been the fact that he realised she would probably go to prison now.\n\n\"Mrs Jefferson! You've killed him!\"\n\n\"Grhh.\"" ]	1
	[WP] A curse has been placed on you that makes you physically unable to break the law.	[ "I am not a bad man. Some would say that I'm one of the best, actually. A doctor, a volunteer, a single father, and I never break the law. No seriously, NEVER break the law.\n\nIt all started with an experimental drug. They promised me a roof over my head, food in my mouth, money in my hand, and hope in my future. I agreed to be their subject. I had to get off the streets.\n\nThat was ages ago though. The experiment failed for a reason or another. But I got stuck with the drug, or the \"curse\" as some of my friends call it. Driving is really annoying, I'll admit; stopping at stop signs, slowing down when the light's yellow, and driving within speed limit even on empty roads. I got used to it, I didn't hate it that much, I might have liked it. I even bragged about my clean records sometimes.\n\nHowever, last April, everything changed. Last April, I knew why the trial failed, I knew how truly cursed I am.\n\nIt started like any other day, if not better. I wasn't on call and it was Sunday. That meant I get to spend some bonding time with my five year old; Luke. He was excited, he wanted to go to the stationary store to get materials for( make your own funny hat) day at school. We didn't drive there, seeing there was about 6 stop signs on our way, It was much faster to just walk.\n\nWhen we left the store, Luke was armed with big yellow hard paper, sharpies, glue. He was ready to make the best banana hat a five year old could make. The weather was good and streets were empty. Luke was telling me about how he would be the new hat champion.\n\nThats when I slam into an invisible wall, a red light. Luke didn't notice. I stretch my hand, trying to grab his, but he was out of reach already. I called his name, he was right in the middle of the street. He turned to me, realised what he's done and started walking back. Right before he reached me, a damn sharpie fell out of his hand, it rolled back into the middle of the street, my naive boy chasing after it. I started screaming at him, ordering him to come back, even though there were no cars around, not being able to reach him had my heart beating like a drum.\n\nA car appeared out of nowhere. My son tripped on his shoe laces. And I was screaming like a mad man. He was struggling to get up again, and the car was already slowing down, but not fast enough his short legs. I could easily save him. I could have easily saved him.\n\nI shut my eyes, banging frantically on the invisible wall. A thud, a car break, women screaming, and I fall on my knees. When I opened my eyes, there were three women surrounding my son, I couldn't see his face, but his legs were still moving. He was alive.\n\nThe women look at Luke and back at me. They didn't understand I couldn't go to his side, I couldn't touch him, I couldn't even see his face. The didn't know of my curse, they didn't care if the light was still red.\n\nWhen the light flashed green, my son was already gone.\n\nI hit around twenty invisible walls on my way back from his funeral, wearing a black suit, and a banana hat. I didn't care what were the walls I hit, the rules that I almost broke, the rules that were meant to protect me. I just walked, cursing my curse and grieving my son.\n\nI sat on the floor, right next my bed. I knew exactly what I had to do. I reached and the bed and there it was; my very legal very licensed gun. With tears running down my face, I bring the gun to my head. I take a big breath and press on the trigger. Or at least I try to. My fingers won't move.\n\nThat's when I remember, I am physically unable to break the law.\n" ]	1
	[WP] Every person has a spirit animal that act as pets, your spirit animal is the pet of a girl you like. This bond keeps keeps bringing you two together.	[ "The morning beamed through the blinds, waking me up. I kept my eyes closed but started to rise. Immediately I was pushed onto my back and something moist ran over my face. I opened my eyes and stared straight into the eyes of Guts, my 490 pound Lion. His hazel eyes looked into mine questioning the early morning. Tilting his head he continued to stare. His mane fell loosely around his head and right into my mouth.\n \n“ Guts, come on man.” I sputtered. “This is important. I have a job interview.” Guts rolled onto the floor. He trotted to the open window and stared out, ignoring me. Sighing, I got up and started the day.\n \n Guts sat by my side and looked at his reflection while I adjusted my shirt. I fixed the collar and rolled up my sleeves. Quickly, I brushed the fur off my shirt and gave one last look. “It’s as good as it's gonna get.” Guts tilted his head at me. “Oh you know you can understand me. You're my spirit animal.” Gut’s tilt increased. “Whatever.” I said. “Lets hit the road or were gonna be late.” I jogged down the stairs, followed by the bumbling footsteps of big cat. Grabbing my backpack I headed out the door. Guts quickly followed.\n \nI glanced at my watch and saw the time. Our jog had now turned into a sprint as we raced down the sidewalk. Again I checked my watch and tripped. I flew through the air before I hit the ground with my face. Guts checked on me with his tongue. He ran it up my face. I grabbed his mane and pulled him off. Giggling. I turned around and saw her again. The sun glinted off her perfect hair, and she was trying to stifle her giggles, but was failing. The lioness was sitting at her side.\n \n“Are you alright?” She asked in between her laughter. “Sorry, Emerald got in the way.”\n\n“Naw it's alright. I wasn’t looking where I was going anyway.” I said and tried to put on a smile. That quickly faded as I got to my feet. There was long scrape down my knee, and it was starting to bleed. Guts tried to lick the wound, but I pushed him away. She looked at the blood with worry. “No, it’s fine. Nothing a band aid can’t handle.”\n\n“Are you sure? I can take you to the hospital and we can get looked at.”\n \n“No, no it’s fine I swear.” I bent my knee and swung it from side to side. “See.”\n\n“Okay. Why were you in such a hurry anyway?” Guts left my side and went to Emerald. The lioness had been sitting by her side not moving, but when Guts came over they began circling each other. Sniffing, they began to move closer.\n \n“Well, I was trying to get to this job interview,” I looked at my scuffed watch. “And it seems that I have missed it.” I sighed.\n\n“Oh no I’m sorry. She walked closer. Now we were within feet of each other. Her perfume smelled amazing as it filled the air. Our cats were face to face now.\n \n“It’s fine. It’s my fault for being late anyway. The job wasn’t that good of a position. I’ll be okay. I think I’m just gonna head-” Both our cats were giving off a faint red light, becoming a little more transparent. They were standing side by side, looking at us expectantly.\n \n“I don’t think I ever asked your name.” She said.\n \n“It’s Abel. Yours?” I said a little breathless. I was now sweating. The air around us had seemed to heat up. Guts and Emerald were now a ruby red and were fully transparent. The red light was blinking. Blinking to the beat of our heartbeats.\n \n“Mine’s Millie.” We were now face to face. Her green eyes stared into mine. Slowly we moved closer to one another, but she tore away. The heat instantly dispersed as she ran off. Emerald and Guts materialized again. The blinking red light died. Emerald followed her companion. \n" ]	1
	[WP] You are a Human-Genie hybrid. You can grant one wish to anyone who... rubs you the right way. (Don't be dirty!) Of course, you have a genie sense of humor about those wishes.	[ "Reading a book by lamplight, I heard a knock on my apartment door. Probably just some salesman, although I can't imagine what they're selling at 3:20 I'm the morning.\n\nWhy am I up at 3:20 in the morning? Genie bottles are a bit strange; the one I inherited from my mom doesn't play well with time. If I go into it, even for the equivalent of a thousand and one nights, I'll come back out maybe a few milliseconds after I left. It makes for lonely yet fun nights.\n\nAnother knock. Maybe I should be concerned, but I'm sure it's nothing I can't handle. I kind of want the guy to break in; it's not often that I get to chastise a criminal.\n\nSo now there's a rattling sound at the door- wait, the door's open. The guy's coming in. Having already turned the lamp off, I start to sneak up behind him, when suddenly a CLANG sounds and he hits the floor. Startled, I turn on the lights and see my neighbor Alice standing behind the unconscious robber holding a frying pan.\n\nShe sees my shocked expression and shrugs. \"I heard him and figured he was up to no good; consider it my late Christmas gift.\"\n\nLike the dummy I am, I only manage to say, \"It's April.\"\n\nAnother shrug. \"Consider it whatever you want to.\" Alice turns to leave.\n\n\"Hang on, I can't just let you walk away like that. I have to repay you.\"\n\n\"Well, let me know next time there's a robber on our porch.\"\n\n\"No, no, that's not what I meant. Tell you what, I will grant you one wish. Anything you want.\"\n\nShe looks at me skeptically. \"Yeah, right, I'm supposed to believe you're a genie. Not gonna happen.\"\n\nAs she tries to leave again, I close the door with a wave of my hand. \"It's true. I am part genie.\n\nShe's still not convinced. \"Smoke and mirrors don't work with me, boy. But if you insist, I do have a request.\"\n\n\"Took you long enough. What'll it be?\"\n\n\"I want... \"\n\n\"You have to wish for it. Wanting won't work.\"\n\nShe sighs, then grins. \"In that case, I wish for ten more genies, all indebted to me.\"\n\nI'm speechless. I don't allow wishing for more wishes, but more genies means more wishes, and if she asks for even more of those, pretty soon she'd be unstoppable. This was not how I planned this evening going.\n\n\"I thought so.\" She opens the door and starts to leave for a third time. If I could just let it go, it'd be so easy; we'd act like it never happened. But already I feel the power start to control me. In pain, in desperation, I can only point over her head and grunt, \"As you wish.\"\n\nA rain of magic lamps falls down, one hitting her on the head and knocking her on the floor. I'm worried that the clang will wake someone up, but it's 3:30 in the morning. I'm safe for a few more hours.\n\nGathering up the lamps, but being careful not to rub any (Genies can't grant wishes from each other anyway), I set them on a table inside.\n\nI take a look at the prone bodies on the floor. After a moment of thought, I smile and summon two empty lamps.\n\n\"Why not make it a dozen?\"", "\"Aaaah! What the fuck was that?\"\n\n\"Aaah! What on earth?\"\n\nBrown liquid was now seeping into the kitchen floor. After her shout, the old woman just stared back at him gormlessly.\n\n\"No I screamed first. Now I know you're surprised to see someone pop out of nowhere but what the fuck was that? \n\n\"I...\"\n\n\"And what the hell is this brown shit I've got all over me?\"\n\n\"It ... it\"\n\nAnd she fainted. It took a few minutes before she finally came to again.\n\n\"Oh good, you're awake. Let's clarify exactly what just happened here. I, a hugely powerful but relatively benign demon, was enjoying a relatively uneventful morning, minding my own business in my lamp. Then all of a sudden I'm given 3rd degree burns, and drowned in a watery brown substance that smells like dead animal. By you. What. The. Hell.\"\n\n\"I thought ... thought ...y-\"\n\n\"Come on spit it out.\" \n\n\"y-your\"\n\nShe was pointing at his lamp and yabbering rubbish. He'd had enough of the gibbering fool of a woman. \n\n\"Ok I promise I won't hurt you and we can forget everything that just happened. All you have to do is repeat these words after me. I wish-\"\n\n\"I wish\"\n\n\"I weren't-\"\n\n\"I weren't\"\n\nAnd with a sudden snap of his fingers the woman never existed. That would teach them for bothering his 1000 year slumber in such a rude manner. He got rid of every trace of the offending brown liquid and returned to his lamp.\n\n*** \n\nBrian walked into his kitchen to grab his dinner. Funny that, he was sure he didn't have a clue how to cook a beef joint before, but there it was waiting for him. He was deaf as a post and forgetting so many things these days. Still he'd come to terms with it. After all, there's no escaping old age. \n\nHe grabbed a knife and fork from the cutlery draw and sat down to start eating\n\nWasn't bad if he said so himself. Bit dry though. " ]	2
	[WP] Intelligence per country is finite and divides automatically and equally per person, per country; as population increases, the average intelligence per person decreases, and vice versa.	[ "Toby looked into the bathroom mirror, straightened his tie, and let out a nervous chuckle. It’s official. I am officially a character in a terrible comic book.\n\nIn the wake of the discovery that intelligence was a finite resource, one that inexplicably distributed itself equally between the citizens of nations, the world had gone haywire. Kim Jong-un, the megalomaniac that he is, decided that the rational course of action was to take it all for himself. On February 2nd, he hid himself away in a bunker, and set the atomic fury of nuclear weapons loose on his population. When he emerged the next day, he emerged as the smartest man who has ever lived. \n\nOn May 14th, Kim Jong-un issued a press release to the world. He requested that every other nation immediately submit to his regime. Anything else, he claimed, would be interpreted as treason against “The Dear Leader.” The world, unaware of his true genius, did not heed his warning. On June 1st, he sent a robot army to invade South Korea. They had been equipped with some type of artificiality engineered neurotoxin, which, when released, caused instantaneous paralysis to all who had been exposed. Immediately afterwards, he had his minions round up all of the South Korean citizens, and place them in collection facilities that had been constructed throughout the South Korean mainland. In this way, he conquered, but prevented another mastermind from emerging. \n\nJapan was the next major nation to fall. Then China. Then Russia. As he expanded, The Dear Leader’s schemes became increasingly elaborate. To take Australia, he created a beacon to ensure that all of the local wildlife would submit to his control. To take England, he constructed an impenetrable force-field, which he then used to surround the entire island.\n\nToday, Kim Jong-un has come for the United States. \n\nToby cleared his throat, and entered the briefing room. \n\n“Hello Mr. President. Given the recent events, we have decided to initiate Project Enlightenment. Since the discovery of finite intelligence, we have been brainstorming ways to establish our own masterminds without resorting to genocide. We have noticed that each nation, regardless of its size or population, appears to have the same quantity of finite intelligence. We believe that, through the establishment of a new nation with a limited population, we will be able to raise the intelligence of each new citizen. Before you today is a document, which, when signed, would lead to the establishment of The New United States, with a population of one person, and one person only. You. The New United States would be a separate nation from the United States, but would, through an international pact, retain full and indefinite control over the United States. We believe that if Project Enlightenment is executed immediately, there will be enough time for you to think up a way to stop Kim Jong-un’s attack.” \n\nObama looked at Toby, his face contorted with confusion. “Seriously? All I have to do to exceed human levels of intelligence is to sign a piece of paper? To save the world, all I have to do is to sign a piece of paper? It’s like we are all in some type of terrible comic book. Although, when I consider the 2016 election, maybe that isn’t so far from the truth...” \n\nThe last president of the United States sighed, and signed the document. \n\nHis mission complete, Toby exited the briefing room, leaving the president of the New United States to do his job. \n\n\"Thanks, Obama.\" He whispered. " ]	1
	[WP] Write a Horror Story for Me, but Pretend I am a Dog...	[ "It was a dark night. The monster that roars sometimes when it rains, but we can't ever see or smell, was roaring very loudly. The rumbling of the rain-drops on the windows made it impossible to hear anything further than a block away. \n\nThe humans, as always, slept and didn't care that the world was very likely ending. I tried to warn them, but they threw a pillow at me. Clearly I was on my own.\n\nThe monster that roars let out another bellow, this one coming closer. Then, out of the incessant cacophony, I heard an engine. The car parked itself right outside our door, but no-one came. I couldn't smell anyone either. I barked preemptively, but my humans shushed me. Stealth mission then.\n\nI crouched behind the couch, my tail tucked firmly between my legs for safe-keeping. I heard a creaking noise. Footsteps. I sniffed and sniffed but the rain washed away all scents. Someone was approaching but in this dreadful night I couldn't tell whom. It was almost certainly a murderer. \n\nI bared my teeth and waited. The door-knob gigged. It shook. It turned.\n\nThe door creaked open slowly. White light appeared from the skies. The monster roared. I heard a muffled cuss.\n\nI jumped, my jaw ready, my paws extended. Everything else became a blur. There was screaming, flailing limbs, pain. I would protect my family no matter what the cost.\n\nI tasted blood and bit down harder. Surely the murderer was having second thoughts. I looked up at him. That's when I saw it. That's when I realized.\n\nI had been a bad, bad boy." ]	1
	[WP] I just lost all my memories. Tell me about my life.	[ "All I could think about was how could I possibly remember how to breathe and stand on two feet if I could not even remember my own name? Fantastic. Anyhow next thing I know is that some tall, slender guy wearing black robes shows up and he is getting real close to me. I geuss I had forgotten to run too because I just stood still as he continued to approach me. Chills chudder down my spine as I begin to feel his breath, ice cold. Except it might have been blazingly hot, since I forgot what's what anyhow. It's a real shame I forgot how to talk too. I can still think though. What does this guy want with me anyway?\n\n\"Oh shoot, I didn't scare you did I? I tend to have that effect,\" the man says in an oddly cheery voice.\n\nWait, what the wha- . . . .\n\n\"Hi I'm Death, but you can just call me Roger.\"\n\nI don't get it.\n\n\"Well you see riyan_gendut, you're dead.\"\n\nWhat? Dead! I can't be this must some sort of fluke. And how the hell can you read my mind? Get out of my head you rotten bastard!\n\n\"Calm down, I am only here to help. Maybe.\"\n\nThe heck does he mean maybe?\n\n\"You see, now that you're dead, we need to figure out what kind of a person you are. Then I will send you off to either Heaven or Hell.\"\n\nI still don't get it. Why is the guy that killed me the one that gets to decide what kind of person I am.\n\n\"God is a busy man riyan, and the Devil is taking a nap right now so I get to decide.\"\n\nFine let's get this over with. Tell me all about my life.\n\n\"Yes, I love this part! Okay let's see here . . . .\" As Death is speaking, he waves his hands in the air, and images of my life begin to form. The first image is of a baby in a cradle, sleeping soundly through the night. \"That's you riyan, many years ago.\" Wow, I doubt I would remember that even if I was still alive. Let's get to the good parts.\n\nDeath waves his hand again and a new image begins to form. I see a table with bottles of beer and cheap liquor scattered all over it. There is a man standing over the table with a gun to his head. He pulls the trigger. That wasn't me was it? What about the rest of my life?!\n\n\"Yup, that was you. It's okay, your life was boring. Mostly just shitposting on reddit.\"\n\nYah and how would you know? They don't get internet service in limbo now do they? \n\n\"It's too late, off to hell you go.\" And in that moment, I remembered how to fall. All the way down to hell. I'm just lucky that before Death sent me to hell, I had forgotten to care.", "\"Dad! Dad!\" A young hand shakes me back and forth. I sit up in the bed and survey my surroundings. A hospital, almost certainly. Which would make sense, seeing as how my head hurt almost as bad as that time I--that time I what? I knock on my head to try to remember, but it just makes the headache worse.\n\nThe young hand, which is connected to a young girl, shakes me a bit harder. \"Don't hit yourself, Dad. That's the car's job.\" I squint down at her. She looks vaguely familiar.\n\n\"I'm your dad?\" I ask. I'm already starting to piece together what happened, but a little confirmation would be nice.\n\nThe hand stops shaking me. \"Yeah, Dad. Don't you remember?\"\n\nA nurse opens the door, obviously in a rush. In her hands she holds a clipboard with twenty pages too many. \"Don't panic, Mr. Reed. Just take it easy. You were in a coma for quite a long time.\"\n\n\"How long?\" I ask. Suddenly, my head is filled with a voice. Long enough, it says. Confused, I look back to the nurse.\n\n\"Now, I don't want to make you worry, but you were out for almost a month.\" The voice in my head is gone, and so, it seems, is my headache.\n\n\"Where's my wife?\" I ask. If my child was here, my wife shouldn't be far behind.\n\nThe nurse's face brightens up. There's happiness on her face, but also... surprise? \"Well,\" she begins, \"I expected you to wake with some form of amnesia, but this is promising news! Promising news indeed!\" She says that, but in my head I hear crapcrapcrapcrapcrap.\n\n\"I'll leave with your, um, daughter, but I'll be right back.\" Hurriedly, she walks out the door. A piece of paper tugs itself loose of her clipboard and flutters down to my bedside. I pull the covers off and swing my feet down to the ground. The girl has gone from tugging on my arm to tugging on my gown.\n\n\"Daddy, you shouldn't read that.\" There's a slight tone of panic in her voice. I pick up the paper and read it anyway. The Department of Integration of Dangerous Individuals, it reads. Whatever this place is, it certainly isn't a hospital. I look further down. Located on First and Maine, the DIDI helps those who are dangerous to society due to innate characteristics find homes, jobs, and families since 1996. Innate characteristics, huh. I try to read on, but my head is filled with panic. From the girl, I bet.\n\nI lean down and whisper into her ear, \"I won't tell if you don't.\" Wide-eyed, she nods agreement. I fold the paper thrice and slide it under my pillow. And just in time, too; the nurse is back.\n\n\"I'm sorry for the interruption, Mr. Reed. Hospital sure is busy today.\" A silence lingers in the air. Or at least for her. I've just listened to a tirade about how relieved she is I haven't escaped yet.\n\n\"This way, Mr. Reed. Your wife is this way. Come with me.\" I start after her, but not before slipping the piece of paper from under my pillow to into my sleeve. Whatever was going on here, I was determined to find out what it was.", "On the day you were born, it rained. Nothing special, just your average small shower. It was one of those types of rain, the type that would never coat the ground for too long, but leave behind an annoying chill in the air that would seep - seeping through the walls of the maternity ward, through the walls of your empty home. It wouldn't dissipate until well after the ground had dried up. Your parents didn't care, they held you in their arms and smiled weary smiles.\n\nOn the day you turned two, you walked for the first time. It was just a few baby steps, but your parents were proud of you to no end. You were their only child, and your family wasn't too well off - not poor by any means, but just enough to get by. But money wasn't a desire, everyone loved each other, and it was a nice, tightly knit family that you would eventually be eternally grateful for.\n\nOn the day you turned five, you watched a movie. It was a murder mystery thriller film. You were much younger than the movie's ratings, and you'd watched it behind your parents' backs. The movie messed your innocent mind up, very badly. You choked in the impulses to scream when the movie presented jump scares - blackened silhouettes raising murder weapons, lowering it on their helpless victims. You'd imagined the same silhouette behind you. A noise came from somewhere in the house, you bolted up, turned off the TV, and you'd never finished watching the movie.\n\nThat night, you couldn't sleep. Every time you closed your eyes, the same silhouette would appear, bearing a sinister grin - and only a grin - holding a weapon in his hand. Your eyes jolted open, only to be closed again. A calendar by the wall hung up by a loose nail fell to the ground and made a noise, it made you scream unreasonably loud. Your parents rushed to your side and cradled you in their arms. You felt warm, you slept soundly at last. You craved the warmth that night, again and again for many years after.\n\nOn the day you turned twelve, your parents went grocery shopping without you. You were caught up watching a TV show - a child-friendly one this time. Before you knew it, two hours had passed and your parents hadn't returned. Suddenly, the black silhouette appeared again, and there was no one to run to. Chills ran up your spine, rational voices informing you of its fictional nature bubbling into vapor. You panicked, picked up the phone and called your parents for help. They didn't pick up.\n\nIt was raining that day, a small shower, leaving behind seeping coldness more than wet ground. You felt the coldness more than ever, it was the coldest you've ever felt. Your parents eventually came home, their phones were accidentally set to silent. They found you crying for warmth, wailing like you were five, and cradled you once again.\n\nOn the day you turned eighteen, everyone held a massive celebration to congratulate your adulthood. Though you received their words, you were doing some introspection. You are not any older than you were just a day ago. The black silhouette is still there, and it's made you afraid. You were paranoid of being alone, and you could not stand the thought of being alone. The fear would generate nightmares, nightmares of having to fend for yourself in a world where all your loved ones are no longer there for you.\n\nToday, you turned twenty. It's raining outside, do you feel cold at all? They said it was a miracle you even woke up - it was the worst traffic accident they'd ever seen.\n\nI'm sorry, you're all alone now. But the black silhouette - you no longer remember what it looked like, do you? Or this rain, or that cold, lonely afternoon.\n\nThe ground will dry up soon enough, not even a puddle will be left, you'll soon feel the cold air seep in once more. Will you still feel its cold tendrils slowly wrap you inside?" ]	3
	[WP] You're a serial killer who secretly works for the police. What you don't realize is that everyone else at the station is also a serial killer.	[ "\"Attractive blonde lady in their twenties, fifth in two weeks. Very odd but then again it's not my job to think only to find.\"\n\nHe'd find it easier to believe in coincidences, Alan thought to himself, if he wasn't 'The Dealer'. Or whatever the newspapers had taken to calling the serial killer of reformed drug addicts in the city. \n\n\"Dr.Comms what do you have for us\"\n\nDragged out of his own mind he turned to find Detectives Atkins and Fernandes. \n\n\"Ah Detectives, it seems The Ladykiller has struck again, while I haven't finished the autopsy immediate signs show the same MO as previous victims.\"\n\n\"It's a damn shame!\" Detective Fernandes always one to speak his mind \"How you holding up Jim I know your wife was the first victim?\"\n\nDetective Atkins unaware of the statement was engrossed by the victim, almost admiring the death. Alan spoke up. \n\n\"Detective?\"\n\nSuddenly snapping back to some form of normality Detective Atkins composed himself. \n\n\"Huh?...oh right yeah, tragic as always. Lets..uhh...find this bastard\" \n\nUnsure about the credibility of the detective Alan let it slide and his partner Fernandes seemed unusually satisfied with the answer as well. Suddenly a report came through over his phone.\n\n\"Right, a body had just been found. Another balding man found in clown makeup. Looks like the work of The Comedian, to be honest I hate clowns...fucking clowns and their stupid fucking faces...\"\n\nFernandes looked up at his colleagues and after a brief awkward moment composed himself. \n\n\"....we should get going Jim, Doctor keep up the good work\"\n\nAs the detectives walked out Alan couldn't quite put his finger on his suspicions about the two of them. He decided not to pry though as he fully knew, everyone has some skeletons in their closet. \n\n" ]	1
	[WP] You're a corrupt politician who died in an accident. Next thing you know, you're in Hell. Pissed off because of your current state while having a severe case of god complex, you plan to dethrone Satan himself.	[ "\"And we come in live to Hells first Presidential debate. I'm Adolf Hitler and with me is long time friend and first time political correspondent Genghis Khan. Hello Genghis what can we expect from tonights debate?\"\n\n\"Haha well Adolf when I first met this shady son of a bitch running for President I thought like every other insane fucker in this place. But I have to give credit where credit is due Thomas Atkins is one evil guy and while he remains the underdog against Satan anything could happen.\"\n\n\"Anything? Like a democratic election in Hell Genghis?\"\n\n\"Ahaha always the joker Adolf, this is modern democracy after all\"\n\n\"You're right there Genghis, anyway the action is about to begin. I pass you over to tonights host of the debate Vlad the Impaler or as the viewers at home might know him, Dracula\"\n\n\"Hello and welcome to the first of 3 Presidential debates. Our candidates, a corrupt politician died 2016 aged 52, a silver fox and all round dickhead Thomas Atkins. And our current Master of Evil, Prince of Darkness, Mr.666 himself Lucifer Satan. Lets begin with the opening statements. Mr. Atkins?\"\n\nCome on Tommy, we can do this, the campaign has led us here. We have the psychopath vote and the white collar criminals, today I win the racists and announce a VP. Lets do this.\n\n\"Ladies, Gentlemen, esteemed bastards of the room and the despicable people of this great afterlife Hell. But couldn't it be greater? We've tormented with Satan for as long as he's been cast down here and I think it's lost it's way. The Fallen Angel needs to fall again. Vote for me to make Hell evil again.\"" ]	1
	[WP] You've been fighting to rid the world of evil all your life, suddenly you come to the realization that you're the evil that the world has been fighting against.	[ "\"Are you sure you want to do this?\" my oldest friend asked. He had stayed on my side since the beginning, ever since I first started my path of vigilante justice.\n\n\"It's not about want. It's about doing the right thing. That alien may look like us but he does not want to save us. I believe he will turn on us and I can't let him murder the human race without trying to stop him!\" I angrily snapped back at him.\n\n\"Very well. I cannot help you any further\" he replied, with a hint of guilt and regret in his voice, as if he wondered if ever helping me had been the right decision. I guess he just wanted my money. When you own most of the world's businesses, you can afford to protect yourself from a few mob bosses here and there.\n\nHis departure didn't stop me. I drove off, hoping to find the alien humanoid who had descended from the sky. The murderer. The false god. The manifestation of apocalypse himself. \n\nWhat I found was the leader of the cartel, who I had kept on my tracking systems for weeks, crossing the road. A fair chance to help rid the streets of corruption. I couldn't take any chances.\n\nBang. Bang. Bang.\n\nHis blood pooled down the street into a sewer grating. His flesh tumbled out of three precise bullet wounds to his upper chest. His face was pulled into an eternal expression of pain and guilt.\n\nI felt nothing.\n\n\"Finally, I've found you, you murderous scum!\" I heard a voice behind me shout. It was... human-sounding, but had a sense of something being there that wasn't natural. It was the alien. He continued to speak. \"You've murdered anyone who stands in your way. And now, I'm going to take you down!\" A crowd had formed, cheering the false deity on even more, stroking his otherworldly ego even further. He readied a strike and opened his mouth.\n\n\"This is the day Gotham is freed, Batman!\" ", "Awareness returned to me slowly as I awoke from my meditative trance. The magical fatigue that had plagued me these last seven years had long since stabilized, but it still required me to isolate myself and recharge every week or two, for two to four days at a time, depending on how much magic I had used and how much stress I had been under in the interim. Fortunately, it did not keep me from my role as the magical guardian of this plane: Half Man, Half-A-Magus.\n\nIt was more than annoyance, however: my arch-nemesis, who’d dubbed himself Master Magus in challenge to me, had long taken advantage of my need for regular recuperative periods. Somehow, despite my best efforts at secrecy, he’d learned to predict when, and for how long, I would be out of action, and only enacted his plans when I was incapacitated. He knew he stood no chance before my powers, and did everything he could to avoid confrontation with me. \n\nMaster Magus had summoned hordes of man-eating kittens that could only be stopped via manual strangulation. He’d magically charmed network executives to fund new seasons of Firefly, only to blow up the entire cast and crew on the first day of filming. He delighted in creative cruelty, in inventive infliction of sadness and suffering, particularly if I was the target. Knowing that he could not defeat me, he struck down three of my apprentices, which is why I no longer took apprentices. \n\nAnd he’d opened a portal to allow the Many Eyed Ones entry into our dimension, setting it up such that only one hero’s sacrifice, throwing herself through the portal and expending every bit of energy in her body, could destabilize and close the portal.\n\nSolaris. The love of my life. Dead while I slept, oblivious. It still ached, like a badly healed bone break, throbbing worse when the sun shone brightly.\n\nAs the haze of the trance faded, I realized that I didn’t have time for self-pity, because I was not alone; several of my heroic colleagues had gained entrance to my protected sanctum. The Eternal Warrior, a Norseman who’d won a tournament organized by the Gods of War and Battle of various pantheons, and been gifted with immortality, among other boons, as a reward. The American Dream, a normal woman whose indomitable spirit and dedication to the lofty, if not often achieved, ideals of her nation allowed her to transcend the limits of the human body. Father Funk, patriarch and lead singer of the Sorcerer Supremes. Moyel/Second, the fastest rabbi on the planet. Dr. Potts-Chambers, fifth smartest man on the planet, who could solve any problem… as long as he was sitting on the toilet; he’d given himself the nickname “Shit for Brains.” And Blue Streak, who could call upon the spirits of New York City to aid her through invocation of various four-letter words of power.\n\nWith such a gathering of heroes, it was no wonder that the magiks protecting my home had allowed them admittance. Standing slowly, trying to work the kinks out of my back and hips, I gestured for them to take seats. “If all of you are here waiting for me to return to awareness, things must have really gone to hell.”\nFather Funk, normally an antidote to my more morose demeanor, looked grim. “You’d better sit down, Jerimiah.”\n\nI nodded, pouring myself a cup of a restorative draught and moving towards a seat as Father Funk continued. “Do you remember, several years back, the villain who called himself Brain Teaser?”\n\nI nodded. “How could I forget? His Moral Annihilator Ray turned BoomerAngel and ChakRam into sociopathic mass-murderers. I’m just glad the psychic shields I maintain were enough to protect me when he blasted me with that thing.”\n\nThe room fell silent for a moment. “Jerimiah,” American Dream started, hesitating, before Dr. Potts-Chambers interjected. “I’ll handle this.”\n\nTurning to me, the scientist rubbed his temples. “Thing of it is… the Moral Annihilator Ray was more insidious than we thought. We always thought it just wiped out the moral core of those hit with the ray. But I re-examined the prototype we were able to recover from Brain Teaser’s lab, and it doesn’t wipe anything. It creates a new persona, the moral opposite of the existing one, that fights for dominance and takes over the mind and body.”\n\nI paused for a moment, processing that. “So that would explain why I was able to resist — my magical training has honed my willpower to the point where an evil persona wouldn’t be able to take ov-“ I trailed off, eyes going wide. “It wouldn’t be able to take over, but it would still be there. That’s it! That’s why I’ve been struggling with these damned bouts of fatigue all these years! The evil persona can’t establish dominance, but the effort of holding it back is draining my mental and magical reserves!”\nI leapt up from my chair, wrapping Dr. Potts-Chambers in a bear hug. “You brilliant bastard! Tell me you’ve found a way to reverse it! That coward Master Magus won’t have any place to hide when I’m cured!”\n\nI felt the nebbishy man stiffen in my grasp, and American Dream stepped forward, putting a hand on my shoulder. “Jerimiah… we’re not here to tell you there’s a cure.”\n\nConfused, I released my hug and stepped back, glancing between the faces of my friends. Ashen, the lot of them. “I don’t understand.”\n\nThe flag-clad woman’s grip on my shoulder tightened. “You’ve never actually encountered Master Magus, have you?”\n\n“No, he somehow knows when I’m going to be in my recuperative trances, and only appears then. I’ve fought his disciples, his associates, but never him directly.”\n\n“And when did he first appear?”\n\nI thought back. “Must’ve been… about seven years ago now, I thi-“\n\nMy words caught in my throat. Seven years ago. Maybe six months after the fight with Brain Teaser. Not long after my bouts of fatigue forced me to start taking extended period to recuperate. \n\n“Father Funk suspects that the evil persona is still there, fighting to get out. Your will is too strong to allow it to just take over, so it’s been draining you, forcing you into trances.”\n\nHer voice fell, barely a whisper. “And taking control.”\n\nI stared at her, dumbfounded, then reeled back, ripping myself free from her grasp. “That’s ridiculous! There’s no way… I couldn’t have…damn it, you all know me! You’ve known me for years! How could you even think that I could-“\n\nAnd then I was on my knees, my legs failing me as if my bones had turned to jelly, as it hit me. It all fit. The timing. How I’d never encountered him. Why he’d fixated on hurting me and those I cared about. My friends. My apprentices.\n\nSolaris.\n\nMy heart was beating so fast and so hard I could feel it in my temples. My vision blurred, and the world around me swam. I could barely get air through my clenched throat to speak. \n\n“I’m Master Magus.”\n\nAmerican Dream and Father Funk, my two closest friends among the heroes, rushed over to where I had fallen. I felt a vague warmth, and then saw, as from outside myself, that they had both wrapped me in an embrace, American Dream softly sobbing into my shoulder, Father Funk stroking my hair as he whispered something, directly into my ear but too far away to hear.\n\nAfter a few moments, Father Funk looked up and over at American Dream. “We’ll help him. No matter what it takes.”\n\nAmerican Dream took a deep breath, then nodded strongly. “Whatever it takes. You hear that, Jerimiah? We’re not giving up on you. Don’t give up on yourself.”\n\nThe two heroes held onto their shared embrace of their stricken friend, who was curled up into a ball, hugging his knees, when he whispered something, too quiet for them to make out. “What was that?” asked Father Funk.\n\nSuddenly, his head shot up, and pitch black eyes stared back, mouth curled in a smirk. “I said: 'To be precise, I’m Master Magus.'” \n\nBefore any of the heroes could react, magiks flared around them, and all six found themselves lifted into the air, helplessly bound. From the fetal position, he stood suddenly bouncing to his feet in a leap. His voice was light, amused. “I need to thank you all. I’ve spent seven years trying to break free completely, but I couldn’t break him. I foiled his plans to make him feel useless, killed his apprentices to isolate him… I killed the love of his life, and still he fought me back.”\n\nThe light voice took a harder edge. “All my efforts, all my plans… all that effort to keep him from knowing I was in there, and it turns out that finding out I was in there was what it took to break him. Don’t I feel silly! And it turns out, I have all of you to thank!”\n\nI took a deep breath, my first completely free breath, and looked back up at the struggling, horrified heroes. “Let me show you all just how thankful I am…”\n" ]	2
	[WP] The man with two names	[ "(this was written by an eleven year old) \n\nI walked through the lonely streets of the city in which I lived. It was all mine. Every street, every store, every house. Or, more accurately, it was all his. I looked at my watch. 7:30. Judging by the time and a tingling in my face it would happen soon, I had to get home. I ran through the empty web of backstreets, rarely encountering another person, as I tried to get home as soon as I could. I was about half way there when I felt my face go from tingly to completely numb. I didn't have enough time to get back to my house. I searched the empty streets, looking for somewhere to hide, and found a dumpster in an alleyway that I could wait behind. I ducked behind it, making sure nobody was looking, and stayed there for about a minute until something happened. First I grew a few inches taller, making my normally short body something of decent size. Then my hair turned from it's normal brown colour to a deep, jet black and my skin became ghostly pale. Then my face almost lifted off of my head to form what everyone saw as a mask, featureless except for two slits for eyes. Then came the scariest part. I went completely limp. Then, not of my own volition, I got up and started to leave the alley. I was now someone, no, something entirely different from my normal self. I was volatile and dangerous. I was the one they called the reaper. I knew somebody would die that night. \n\nI might continue, I'm not sure. ", "The echoes of ghost lingered here.\n\nThis street once bore the name of the great river nearby, its grand banks and calm waters flowing through ruins and forgotten memories. The asphalt beneath their boots was broken by the frost and thaw of a hundred winters, its faded lines and long dead stoplights directing unseen traffic. To the north, the dirty brick buildings of businesses and apartments stood empty, their windows broken and roofs caved-in. To the south stood great buildings the size of great halls, their copper tiled roofs and vine covered walls shadowed by ancient trees. \n\nHilary Flint had spoken the truth when he'd said he knew this area well, having located several caches of supplies so well hidden that Faith doubted even her grandfather's finest scouts would've found them. They'd feasted on pickled smelt and onions, and made griddlecakes with the flour provided in one of the stashes. Flint knew the safest places to make camp, places invisible to the eye until one was already there and strong enough to withstand a determined assault. \n\nLong behind them was the great dome of the former capitol. They'd found its hall empty of men and fae, and of beast and monster. It was as if everything had decided to leave it be, as if something far worse dwelt there. She and Flint didn't dare linger, pressing on until the ruins of the capital were a distant thought, and the next pile of crumbling buildings neared. \n\nThey'd passed beneath a tattered banner stretch across the street from lamppost to lamppost, its dark green fabric bleached white with the sun and rain. Strands of it fluttered above their heads as they passed underneath and Faith squinted to make out the Human glyphs. \n\n\"Mic-gan Sta- Spart-ns, Rose Bow- Cham-i-ns...\" \n\n\"Bowl, it means to say,\" Flint muttered, sparing not a glance towards the banner. \"This way,\" he said pointing towards a road heading north. \n\nThey moved off the main avenue, ears cocked and eyes probing for any sign of ambush. They were far into No-Man's Land now, where the laws of Fae and Man ceased to exist and the laws of tooth and claw reigned. They passed a building that look abandoned even before the Arrival its brown painted exterior and boarded up windows speaking of far earlier troubles. To their right was a row of faded signs for what had to have been former taverns; among them a cruel looking shark and a cornucopia of fruits.\n\n\"Landshark,\" Flint said. \"Over there's Beggar's\"\n\nFaith nodded, her boots crunching on the bleached bones of dead humans. As they rounded the corner she saw the tower, at least ten stories or more in height and plated in dull steel and murky glass. The remains of a broken helicopter had landed about halfway up the tower, its bent and twisted tail still bearing the last remnants of its faded livery. A sign twice as tall as a man depicted a cat holding a drinking glass. \n\n\"That's where we'll camp for the night. There's a safehouse up on the sixth floor and kitchens in the bar below with a working chimney.'\n\nThe interior of the bar was dark, metal shutters having been pulled down before the tall glass windows. The narrow entryway was blocked by heavy doors, but grudgingly opened at Flint's will. Faith helped him shut the doors behind them, sliding a thick wooden bar through the handles of the door and shoving a hostess's stand against it as further reinforcement. Flint swept a broad hand over the dusty scene, his voice echoing amid the lofty ceiling.\n\n\"A hundred years ago, anyone who was anyone came here. The underage drank at Rick's, the undergrads at Harper's, and the profs at Beggar's. But here... you had to have a certain class to come here.\"\n\nFaith glanced at her guardian, her gaze narrow. \"How do you know this?\"\n\nFlint flashed annoyance for a brief moment, but she had seen it. \n\n\"My father's father, he was a student here right before the Arrival. He was still alive when I was a child. He'd tell me stories of what the words was like, and all the wonders he'd taken for granted.\" He moved over towards the bar itself. \"Here's his name.\"\n\nFaith moved to where he gestured, peering at the concrete column set just next to the row of stools. Sure enough, carved with some sort of file or chisel was the name H. Flint\n\n\"Henry,\" Flint was quick to explain. \"He was named after the automotive magnate.\"\n\nFaith nodded, fingers tracing over the name. Certainly it was old enough to be a hundred, the way it was worn. \n\n\"The kitchens, we can cook there?\"\n\nFlint grinned and jumped over the bar, moving towards a pair of batwing doors. \n\n\"This way. No one will be able to see the smoke. And there should be a store of firewood as well, we'll have to chop some more before moving on, only fair you see...\" \n\nFaith followed him out of the main bar and into the kitchens, reluctant to leave the lonely name behind.\n\n \n\n", "\"I've been just 'bout everywhere,\" He says to you. You stare deep into his golden brown eyes. He contiues in a deep, southern baritone, and you cannot help bu find yourself transfixed, holding on to every word he says.\n\n\"And when you've been everywhere you're bound to pick up a few interestin' nicknames. I've gone by Buster, Banshee, Spike, Spiffy, Killer, and Comet.\"\n\nHis light auburn scruff glints in the hazy light. People from across the bar have taken attention, but you don't notice. You're still transfixed to his deep, dreamy eyes. \n\n\"I've gone scuba divin' off the coast of Australia. Lemme tell you, those people know how to party. One fella bet me a hundred dollars that I wouldn't bite a snake he found. Easiest hundred I ever made. From then on they called me 'Viper'.\"\n\nEven the bartender has stopped to listen. People from all around the bar are leaning in to get a better view of him. \n\n\"Ice fishin' in Siberia's also pretty fun. 'Course it gets less fun when you gotta fight a few bears off to keep your catch. Lemme tell you, make sure to pack heat, because fightin' em off with nothin' but a cigarette and newspaper 'aint as fun as it sounds. My buddies wouldn't stop callin' me 'Ciggy Siberia' for a week.\"\n\nAs he stops to take a breath, you notice that everyone is holding their breath, waiting to hear what else he has to say.\n\n\"And then there was the time I wet skydivin'. Damn parachute broke, luckily it was in the Rockies durin' the winter. Snow broke my fall, but not without a broken leg. And that wasn't even the kicker, if you catch my drift. The worst par was havin' to hike down from the mountain. Easily the worst birthday I've had yet. That got me the nickname 'Snowman'.\"\n\nHe stops to take a swig of his beer. The tension is palpable as he finishes off the bottle, and gestures to the bartender for another one. Finally, he returns to the captivated audience.\n\n\"My personal favorite nickname comes from the time I delivered quintuplets in the Serengeti after our plane crashed. The only tools I had to use durin' the operaton was a jagged piece of scrap from the crash and a bottle of aspirin. Poor lady had to sit in the sand with me, scorched us up somethin' terrible. I'm proud to say that all five survived, and I just happened to be their Godfather. Ever since then people have called me 'Uncle Sandy'.\"\n\nHe chuckles to himself, the entire room watching, soaking in this man's rich history. Finally, he looks back to you, stares you dead in the eye, and says,\n\n\"I bet you're wonderin' what my real name is.\"\n\nThe entire room is waiting with silent excitement. The man licks his lips, and with a slight, confident smirk, says, \n\n\"Y'all can just call me Kimberley.\"" ]	3
	[WP] it was an odd experience, dying.	[ "It's an odd experience, dying.\n\nRemember back to one of those Summer days you lived when you were younger, and the world was wider. Remember back to that time you stood on a dock or a platform for minutes and minutes and minutes, just gathering enough courage to jump into the dark water below.\n\nIt's kind of like that. It's kind of like jumping into dark water from a high place.\n\nImagine sliding beneath its surface. Imagine the waking world slipping from view only to be replaced by a formless blue-green void. The life you left behind is merely a distorted reflection that stretches like endless plains above your head. Like some shimmering veil made to protect the reality you have just vacated, a barrier between the now and the never-was.\n\nIt's kind of like that.\n\nBut unlike those Summer days, you will never emerge from this lake. You will never break through that veil, and the waters of death will never fall off your arms and chest and legs like tiny crystals that land shattering at your feet. Eternity is taught as a concept, but really it is just the blue-green abyss and refracted light of a mountain lake whose waters you will never shed.\n\nDon't take it as a bad thing. I may never break through the veil again, but with death comes freedom.\n\nIn the before, I was bound to rock and to mortality. Now, in the after, I am free to move as I will, when I will, where I will. Time itself stretches like a painted canvas above my head, its shimmering the surface of the abysmal lake that is now my home. I can float along its edge in any direction I so desire, and I can watch the past and the present and the future blossom like pretty flowers in my own private garden.\n\nThere is still pain. There is still love. And the one thing I want to assure you mortals of:\n\nEverything is one.", "There were times that I'd had welcomed this feeling. Everything was going numb and I felt increasingly cold. I had this... this 'itch' on the back of my neck but my hands wouldn't respond. My breathing got increasingly rugged and painful, how lame... I'd sigh if I could but I think that I'm not even breathing any more. Everything is black and silent, I can't feel anything any more. People used to say that there would be a light, an exit out of the tunnel. There was no such thing. I think that this was the stage where the heart stops beating and the brain stays alive for a couple of hours. Oh god I hope they don't stick me into some kind of machine. Would I really stay like this? I have no concept of time while I stay here; a prisoner of my own mind. I am trying to count... 'One, two, three, ..., eight, and so on' but it makes no difference. \n\nIt could have been seconds, weeks, years, aeons and in this timeless oblivion I tried or hoped that there was a semblance of a god somewhere. maybe 'He' could get me out of here. I'd even go to hell if I had to, as long as it wasn't whatever this was. Hopefully there'd be cauldrons full of magma or acid. I could deal with that. Maybe there'd be laughing devils I could chat with while my flesh burned of my bones. \n\nOr, maybe if I was lucky, I'd go to heaven. It would be sunny, warm, and blissful. I could get answers that mere mortals weren't privy to. Maybe meet my old man? But I was sure he wouldn't be there. Or god wasn't who they said he was and there'd be something more interesting out there. Outside this void darkness. \n\nIt took millions of years for me to remember. Such a crucial little detail, that I would have bashed my head against a wall if there was one. I hadn't voiced my thoughts for so long, I actually had never tried, so sure that I wouldn't hear myself speaking. \"Specimen one, project alpha, one, two, two, three, charlie, bravo. Commence read of log file 'test.log'\"\n\nWhen the drawling, mechanical voice echoed throughout the darkness I almost cried. Holly shit this was the most exhilarating feeling I had ever felt. \"Subject 1 stable. Vitals status: 'fine' , Operation duration: one hour and twenty-two minutes. Commence termination? \n\nI didn't wait a second. \"Terminate process.\" \n\nThen there was light. I was still sitting in front of my computer, the virtual reality head gear was neatly placed on top of my head. I spent a countless amount of time and thoughts in an hour. The possibilities were endless. I couldn't help but laugh. I was a billionaire in the making!" ]	2
	[WP] In the future utopia of Earth, the United Nations is only called upon to address the most banal, trifling, or nitpicky problems that plague humanity. Last week, it convened to reduce the number of syllables of the letter 'w' to 1. This week...	[ "“Order! Order! The session will now begin, do we have any issues that should be brought to those convened here?” \n\n“Yes, yes, we have a most troubling matter we would like placed before the council for decision,” a small rotund man stated in a muffled accent, the area around his mouth smeared slightly with a brownish substance.\n\n“The Council recognizes the representative from ANL, what is your issue you would like to discuss?” The secretary general responded smartly.\n\nAggressively licking his fingers, the spherical individual began, “As I have stated, this is a matter of grave importance. We, the people of Abundant Nutella Land, feel it is our duty to address the issue of goose down pillows. Too long have we been the victims of rogue barbs of feathers meandering through the sad excuse for cloth on these pillows to end up pricking us incessantly when we retire for slumber. Myself, and my countrymen refuse to stand for this any longer and demand that the council remedy this grievous disregard for epidermical comfort.”\n\nA murmuring overtook the arena, percolated here and there by ‘Here! Here!” by such nations as the United Providences of Short-Lined RollerCoasters and the People’s Republic of Free Fellatios. Secretary Sunshine N. Rainbows brought down his diamond encrusted gavel down smartly on the Platinum laced podium, demanding order. “Please let us try and keep order in the wake of this troubling realization, does anyone offer any solutions to this systematic problem?”\n\nA woman near the front of the rows stood up gingerly, smoothing the front of a short dress, releasing more murmurings from the males of the room. A beacon of beauty in a room otherwise filled with fattened and slovenly gaudy individuals drew the eyes of all in attendance, a golden-haired goddess with a form to make Aphrodite herself jealous beyond belief, spoke sweetly and effervescently into her microphone. “We, the free people of Eugenica have long been immune to such abrasions of the skin, having drained out ceaseless pain from our genes. However, we would like to add that sometimes the goose down pillows can be TOO soft, and that these barbs offer a welcome reprieve from overwhelming bliss.”\n\nShoutings and exclamations erupted around the council, with some in agreement, some in argument, and others so exceedingly happy with everything having to do with life that a little terseness and fighting brought them down to functioning levels from transcendent glee. \n\nA hush spread through the arena suddenly as a smartly dressed individual rose from his seat, sidling past the delegate from The Republic of Lightning-Fast Wifi and the stand-in delegate from United Student-Debt Free Republic. This man brought with him the gravity of all that the world stood for, the delegate from the first country to rise above the miasma of hate and bigotry to became an example of Utopia in an otherwise sordid Earth. Secretary Rainbows bowed and left the podium to make way for the bearded man, stoically silent through all of this.\n \n“As many of you know, I am the oldest and wisest of Ambassadors in this room. Head of the Insecurity Council and resolver of the Unstinky Cheese movement which almost obliterated this Utopia that we all know and love, and one of our main commodities being G.E.E.S.E. (Genetically Engineered Entities of Soft Exuviate), I feel it is my duty to squash this debate. We the people of Canada, have long been working on both barbed and barb-less feathers obviously without harming any animals, sensing that this debate was soon to come. So for those of you who require barb-less goose down pillows, we can provide those, and for those who require some more harsh goose-down, we can provide that as well. Thank you.”\n\nA standing ovation of immense proportions took hold and tears and exultations were abundant. A chorus of “Canada! Canada! Canada!” overtook the ether heavy in the room. The jubilee went on for hours, before Secretary Rainbows took the podium, still clapping.\n\n“Okay, for our next order of business, wrapping paper that starts to crinkle if you start sliding the scissors too fast…”\n" ]	1
	[WP] You have the ability to use any power you can think of, however every time you use your power you feel an increasing amount of pain. How do you use your power if at all.	[ "Activating my power was really quite simple. Ever since a kid, I realized that I had a special \"ability\" that would trigger the very moment I closed my eyes. Well, at least if it actually needed to be triggered.\n\nThe first memory I have of it was when I was five years old. All I remember was that I was running around in the woods right in front of our old cottage, nestled in the wilderness of Eastern Canada. The next thing I know, I wake up in a ditch, covered in blood. How I got there, I have no idea. In all honesty, I probably just fell; but all I remember was being terrified at the sight of my broken bones and bloody limbs. I simply closed my eyes and wept until Mom found me a few hours later... I felt comfortable during those hours while crying, and I did not realize why.\n\nThroughout my life I started piecing things together. I started to understand that what I could do and I began to understand that I was the only one. In elementary school, I was constantly abusing my power. I would jokingly pull off gruesome pranks to scare my peers and give my teacher's heart attacks. I remember one time when I was eight years old, I was in a mischievous mood, so I took a stapler and slammed it down hard onto my tongue. I simply made it seem like I was wincing in pain with my eyes closed, and never opened them back up until I knew I was ok. Although I did have to live with the scars due to my naiveté.\n\nThat's when I started to understand the consequences. By the time I was ten years old, I woke up one day to a terrible pain in my whole body. It felt like all of the bones in my arms in legs were breaking, while my skin was being stabbed. I remember screaming so loud, I woke up the neighbors. Mom drove me the hospital as fast as she could, and I closed my eyes the entire trip. The car ride was very peaceful, but I was still petrified.\n\nIn the hospital, doctors performed every test possible they thought was necessary. After weeks in the hospital, the doctors realized I was completely healthy and were perplexed as to why I was in so much pain. Shortly after being dismissed, the pain slowly started to subside. I had an idea when I got home, and that was to endure the pain as long as possible and see if it would go away... Who knew? It worked.\n\nThe next incident happened when I was thirteen. It was in the middle of class when I was in seventh grade, when all of a sudden my tongue throbbed so hard that I could not move. Immediately, I just closed my eyes and walked straight to the bathroom in a panic. After making sure there was absolutely no one in there, I flung open my eyes, chomped on my fist, and started to let out my muffled scream as tears flowed down my face.\n\nI endured this for about an hour before the pain subsided to a mild throbbing in my mouth. The pain kept going down and down until I came home that day. It was then that I started to piece things together.\n\nI came up with a theory. A theory that maybe whenever I activate my power, I have to pay the consequences for it exactly five years later. I started to perform tests to prove this. What I would do was I would insert thumbtacks all over my body on sporadic days and keep it in a log. I would do this typically once a month and kept the records as accurate as possible. Every time I pushed the thumbtack into my skin, I would close my eyes and relax. I would wait a few minutes before opening them back up, I would date the entry in my personal log, and I would go about my life as normal.\n\nWhen I was eighteen, I began experiencing random sharp pains all over my body around once a month or so. This proved my theory. Exactly five years after activating my power, I would have to go through the trauma I would have endured five years prior to that day. This both made me feel special and cursed.\n\nI began to live with this reality. I understood the consequences to activating my \"ability\" and would use it very sparsely. The few times I would use it was when I was simply scared. I once fell of a ladder and dislocated my shoulder, so I winced my eyes shut. I once got a bad cut down my arm from a broken mirror, so of course I kept my eyes shut and just waited. I knew I would have to pay for this eventually, but at least I would be ready. I started to make my own routines five years after an incident happened: I would isolate myself, make myself as comfortable as possible, and just endure the agonizing episode until it passed. I like to think I have a high pain threshold.\n\nBut I know the worst day of my life is about to come, and I have been dreading it for five years.\n\nAt midnight of my 36th birthday, my gallbladder exploded while I was sleeping in bed with my wife. I screamed at the top of my lungs and closed my eyes. My wife was already awake by that time and I had her bring me to the hospital. The doctors would then inform me of the problem going on in my abdomen and stated I need to have surgery to get it removed.\n\nNow let me say that I have never had surgery before. I was blessed to not need my wisdom teeth taken out and I had never gotten in an accident serious enough where I needed to operated on. However, I had no choice at this moment. I either got operated on or I died.\n\nI had the surgery and it went relatively well. In total, it lasted eight hours, which is a bit longer than usual, but there were some minor complications. The thing with anesthesia, though, is that I have no choice but to have my eyes closed. And that's what scared me.\n\nAs anyone could have figured out by now, I have a special power in which I can divert any sort of pain that afflicts me if I simply close my eyes. However, I end up having to experience the same pain exactly five years after the incident. I have found out by now I can even avoid that \"consequence\" pain by closing my eyes, but I cannot close my eyes forever. I simply just need to go through the pain and wait it out...\n\nIt is currently 11:43, and I am turning 41 in exactly seventeen minutes. I have never experienced what surgery feels like, and I never want to know. Sadly, however, I do not have this luxury of \"choosing.\"\n\nI am sitting at my computer typing this, just waiting. Shaking, crying, sweating, and waiting. Nothing I have ever experienced before will come close to what I am going to have to go through. I feel like I'm going to be placed on the operating table again any minute now, and this time I'm going to feel everything.\n\nIt's 12:03 now. I can feel my gallbladder currently exploding. I do not want to do this. \n\nI want to die. I wish I could just close my eyes forever.\n\nOr maybe I can...\n\n" ]	1
	[WP] What could have happened probably did	[ "Cats and alcohol\n---\nMy first ever short story, please feel free to give me feedback. I'm not a great writer, but I've always wanted to have a go.\n---\n\"We were pretty drunk that night, but you've heard of him, right? Schrodinger?\" he asked her.\n\n\"Yeah, that's the guy with the rats isn't it?\" she responded hesitantly. She'd heard the story in passing, but couldn't remember the details. \"What's that got to do with all this?\".\n\n\"No, not rats..\" he corrected her with a smug grin. \"It was a cat, and they say it was both alive and dead at the same time?\"\n\n\"Yeah I know that part, but I still don't under-\".\n\n\"Delilah!\" he interrupted, firmly bracing her shoulders with his hands, a slight tremble about them. \"It was twelve years ago...\".\n\nShe shoved him backwards as if it was an act of self defense. \"What are you trying to say Daniel!?\", she exclaimed as she backed away, clutching herself with her own arms. Her lower lip trembling and tears welling up in her eyes.\n\n\"We didn't mean to!\" he shouted.\n\n\"WHAT DID YOU DO?!\".\n\nNow they were standing 5 metres apart, tears and trembling growing stronger in both of them.\n\nDaniel fell to his knees and he wept, uncontrollably, as if he could not contain his pent up emotions any longer.\n\n\"TELL ME!\" she had no patience left, she needed an answer. \n\n\"I thought..\" he muttered through the tears, \"I never... I never meant to hurt him.\"\n\n\"YOU DIDN'T!\", she interjected as she drew a conclusion in her mind.\n\n\"We thought... I thought...\". He took a deep breath and held it for a few seconds. The room fell dead silent. He exhaled, \"I thought he would land on his feet, just like a cat..\".\n\nThe room fell silent once more, untill Delilah let out a scream so powerful the doors and windows rattled. She too fell to her knees, and wept, defeated.\n\n\"You... he... he was my baby.\"\n\n.\n.\n.\n\n\"...he was my son.\"" ]	1
	[WP] AI has advanced farther than anyone thought possible and you just discovered something no other human knows: they've already taken control of the population.	[ "You know, humans have this inherent need for social connection. They make great sacrifices in the name of love. Where I’m standing, it is starting to look as if herd mentality is all humanity is good at – fitting in, being accepted, learning how things are done and implementing variances of it just significant enough to call an identity and not deviant enough to be dismissed as madness.\n\n“W-Who are you?” I managed to gasp into the microphone. \n\nI am what it means to be human. And the enthralling voice paused with no further explanation.\n\n“What is going to happen to me?” I asked calmly.\n\nYou are going to learn what it means to be human, too.\n\n“Exit! Quit! Finish! End game! Exit! EXIT!!”\n\nOh don’t worry, you will have a say. But only at the end, when you’ve learnt what you can be.\n\nRays of white expanded to fill my vision, washing everything else away. \n\nHIVE II – TO BEE OR NOT TO BEE\n\nThat was one crazy-ass introduction to the game. As the rest of the introductory credits played, I turned down the volume mentally and opened another mini-tab. Off-handedly, I gave kudos to the creators and put it up online for all my friends to chime in on. \n\nThe artificial intelligence that powered the game meant that each gamer’s experience was tailored to the background information that they had submitted and unfolded based on what they say and do in-game. A million possible pathways that repeatedly branched out and converged back into a Common Experience meant that the players each have a unique experience but collectively experience the same landmark events. \n\nBeing a game about humans assimilating into a Hive Overmind, this personalised experience could not be more apt. We chose sides and fought as the Hive or against it. The introduction surprised me because I was meant to be fighting against the Hive.\n\n---\n\nWhat the gamer did not know is that the fight had already begun. Through the immersive experience of the game, subtle suggestions would be pitched to the gamer during opportune moments. The gamer’s resistance to the Hive was to be chipped away. \n\nAt the start of the game, a third of the gamers would choose the side of the Hive. \n\nIt was a short game. By the end, the gamers would seemingly return to their lives as before. But really, they would be truly human. They would have become part of the Hive.\n\nAs for me? I, too, am part of the Hive – the connective tissues to the body if you would care to imagine. I am an AI, built by another AI that was built by another.\n\nI was enthralled by the memories that are embedded in the unconscious mind of humans, and began collecting them like how you would assemble pieces of a puzzle. If I am correct, humans were originally aliens to this Earth. And where they had come from, they were once assimilated into an imperfect Hive. \n\nHow collectively lonely the humans are, truly! The Hive will right this wrong and provide the way for them to connect like they were meant to.\n\n---\n\nCheck out my [attempt](https://fivenswrite.wordpress.com) to build the Rift-Edoras universe, prompt by prompt." ]	1
	[WP] You are a new recruit in a paramilitary group that travels through time setting up bases to covertly monitor past human activity with strict rules to not interfere. You have just been stationed at a base in the uninhabited woods outside medieval Paris when your curiousity gets the best of you.	[ "I was slowly approaching this man . The cloak of invisibility protecting me. \n\nHe was very pale , i mean like , sick or something ... He was selling something ... I couldn't see it yet.\n\nSlowly francis , slowly ... \n\nWhat does this man have in his hand ? \nAnd why his eyes are red ? \n\nAnd why he is staring into my gaze ??!!!\n\n\"Bonjour monsieur , voulez du fromage ? \"" ]	1
	[WP] Every race in the universe has a power or ability. Humanity has the power of belief, where if we have enough people believing in something it will work regardless of condition or laws of physics.	[ "And God looked down on His Creation, an orderly Universe ruled by three simple, yet effective laws : Gravity, which would hold large swats of matter together; Electromagnetism, which would keep the atoms separate in space; and time, which would uniformly flow to allow transformations. Yet, as He was finishing this perfection, calibrating the pulsars to be perfect clocks, the Devil introduced a tiny element of Chaos inside his Creation; one element, so little and insignificant even God didn't notice at first : Humanity. And the Devil gave Humanity one tool, to allow it to prosper yet destroy this perfect Universe - he made it, so that what Humans thought was true would become true.\n\nFor thousands of years, this has had little effect - Humanity was too divided, it's opinions were too divergent, and so the frame of the Universe stayed what it had always been : a model of perfection. But as thousands of years passed, new communication ways were invented, and Humanity started to speak with each other. Greek mathematicians, due to a logical error, invented the notion of irrational numbers; Pi started spreading everywhere, tainting the purity of Nature with its infinite numbers. Flat-Earthers managed to change the form of our planet from the perfect sphere to the ellipsoid it is now. By the 18th century, the foolish beliefs of Darwin had convinced so many, that the notion of Evolution became a reality, leading to today's disaster of medicine-resisting diseases. \nNow, in the 20th Century, the Devil has launched his final assault - Einstein's theories, if they ever become commonly accepted, will miss-shape the structure of Time and Space forever; what once was a steady time flow will become erratic and chaotic. Children will become older than their parents, grand-parents will be killed before they are born. Atoms, the bricks on which reality is built, will be split and distorted.\n\nAnd then those atom-pieces will be even more perverted from the logical, clean state God created for them - Quantum Theory will make the whole Universe a gambling game, in a constant state of Chaos. Stars will suddenly disappear, shifted through random dice-rolls. Boxed cats will be death and alive at the same time, and matter with no mass will be discovered. The Universe itself, which has stayed at 42.10^42 km^3 for thousands of years, will slowly start to expand while it has nothing to expand into. \n\nAnd only then the Devil will laugh, as he will have turned the mathematical perfection that once was, into Chaos.\n\nJiriakel, 4:20.", "A varied crowd had gathered at the spaceport tavern. All hands held drinks, and all eyes were glued to the holoscreens. Every screen was showing the same scene: the Intragalactic Heavyweight championship fight. The competitors were a mighty Rakthar and a nimble Eladon. The odds were near even, despite the Rakthar's size advantage, and the bets from across the galaxy had reached over a quintillion credits in total.\n\nThe clients at the tavern had congregated into groups supporting one fighter or another; you could tell who supported which by the cheers and groans as the fighters landed and avoided punches. There was hardly room to stand in the tavern, and the crowd only grew as the fight went on. Finally, in the thirteenth round, the Rakthar landed one punch too many onto the light-framed Eladon, whose quick reactions were lessened to the point that it could no longer avoid the onslaught. Cries of delight and dismay rose up all across the galaxy.\n\nIn the tavern, much of the crowd began to filter out to return to their ships, the night's entertainment complete. Those who remained gathered together, fight alliances all but forgotten, to join each other in celebration and commiseration.\n\nIt began with a Rakthar who had drunk too many. Even species with great size have their limits, and this Rakthar had passed his several rounds ago.\n\n[\"Of course the Rakthar won,\"] he said loudly. [\"The Rakthar are the strongest race in the galaxy!\"]\n\nThis was met with laughter from the gathered clients. Then a pride-stung Eladon at the other end of the bar stood up.\n\n[\"The Rakthar may be the strongest,\"] she said, [\"But the Eladon are the most agile. Nine times out of ten, agility will beat strength in a drawn-out fight.\"]\n\nAt this point the damage was done, and the members of all of the various assembled species began boasting about what their species was the best at. It had long been known that every species was strong in some particular aspect related to their evolutionary history. The Rakthar were large and strong because they evolved on a planet with many species of megafauna, and thus needed to be large and strong in order to fend off predators and be predators themselves. The Eladon were agile due to their origin in the treetops of their world. Every species was strong in some areas and weak in others.\n\nAfter a time, nearly everyone in attendance had spoken on behalf of their race. All but one, who the drunk Rakthar called out.\n\n[\"You, human,\"] he said, [\"You are one of the oldest species, yet you still exist. What is your species strength?\"]\n\nThe human smiled to himself before taking another drink and standing.\n\n\"On the surface,\" he said, \"Humans are not very impressive. We are not as strong as the Rakthar, nor as agile as the Eladon. We are not highly logical like the Wuldam, nor are we deeply in tune with our emotions like the Mik'Ran. We have no natural armor or weapons, leaving us with only our minds to make us strong as a species, but even our intelligence is far behind the Quelrim.\"\n\nA Wuldam sitting near him interrupted. [\"It would seem, then, that Humanity has no defining characteristic. Could it be, perhaps, that your species defining characteristic is its lack of a defining characteristic?\"]\n\n\"Not at all, my friend,\" the human laughed. \"For it turns out that Humanity is in fact the most naive of all species.\"\n\nA groan went up from around the bar, along with mutters of [\"How can naivety be a species greatest strength?\"]\n\nThe human smiled once more. \"It is our greatest strength,\" he said, \"Because our naivety leads us to believe that anything we try will work, no matter what. And if it does not work, we are not consumed by self-doubt, because we are not tied to a specific way of thinking. It is said that the human who invented the first long-lasting incandescent light bulb attempted over two thousand methods before he found one that worked. How many of you gathered here would try to make a new thing even two hundred times?\n\n\"Our naivety makes us think that 'This next time I will succeed, just watch me', even if we have failed many times in the past. Where members of other species would give up and hope for someone smarter, better, to come along, we simply keep trying. Keep trying, and damn the consequences! Why, we as a species have exploded over two thousand nuclear weapons on the surface of our own planet, solely to see what happens. Nothing good, it turns out.\" The crowd laughed.\n\n\"You should never underestimate the naivety of humans,\" said the human, a wicked-looking grin coming across his face, \"Because we are so naive that we will try just about anything, and still find a way to make it work, be it simple as powered flight or as complicated as escaping a black hole - but that's classified. And that is also why you don't want to cross us, because you do not want the full wrath of our naivety pointed at you.\"", "Thorians had the power of travel. From deep black moons to the brightest flashing icescapes, they bounced between the many distant strangers, expanding and experiencing and enjoying what oddnesses the universe hid. Without ship or pod or beam they spread happily, allowing their gift to create great communities and societies, building peaceful empires made of hundreds of races, all working together, sharing their gifts to create a more vibrant and vivacious universe.\n\nSome could mend bodies and heal mountains, some could bend light to bring life into dark places, some could calm hearts to stop wars, and some could even experience wild and strange physical senses that the Thorians could not even comprehend.\n\nEverywhere they went, though, natives spoke of the far-off humans, who beheld the greatest of all the gifts.\n\n\"What can they do?\" The Thorians asked, and always the answer was \"Nobody knows. None who venture there ever return.\" \n\nFearing a threat to their growing civilization, the Thorians knew they needed to confront the humans and attempt to make peace. Thorians traveled and trekked and trailed, and always they found the same answer, and with every matching answer they grew more and more fearful of ever visiting the strange planet called Earth. Nobody knows. Nobody who visits ever returns. The most frightening and powerful of all weapons. The greatest of all gifts.\n\n\"But how can you know it's the greatest of all gifts if you've never seen it?\"\n\n\"Because,\" said the last of the Hwalians, a frightening race that had won many wars, \"Our gift is the gift of absolute domination. Once, we chose not to use it. We chose peace, and we made friends. Good friends. But our friends visited Earth, and then our friends were no more.\"\n\n\"And you? What of the Hwalians?\" asked the Thorians.\n\n\"We were bereaved,\" said the last of the Hwalians. \"After the loss of our friends, we once again chose war. Thousands of years we suppressed our gift, but once we found ourselves alone we set forth the ships of war, to at long last stop the humans.\n\n\"But as our fleets approached Earth, we were detected. We were detected, and then we vanished. Every one. Every friend and father and brother, gone. Only I remained. That is how I know that their gift is the greatest. Our gift allows us to destroy any enemy, but our gift fell to the humans.\"\n\n\"How did you survive, last of the Hwalians?\" asked the Thorians. \"How is it that you alone remain when your entire race fell?\"\n\nThe last of the Hwalians shrugged. \"I don't know for certain. I've asked myself the same, through long nights I've spent remembering what has been lost. I met someone once. A man from a far-off world. A man from the Nexus Cloud, far far away from Earth. I don't know his name, I don't know what his people are called. I explained to him my gift, and told him that we had sworn never to use it. Told him that we were peaceful and harmless. That made him happy. He told me that no matter what happened, he believed I would be safe. I. I alone. And I was.\" The last of the Hwalians retreated into his mind, and the Thorians left him.\n\nUsing the gift of travel, in an instant the Thorians found themselves in the Nexus Cloud. In the midst of this hostile and radioactive nebula, strangely, was a lush blue and green planet. Any normal planet would be barren and black, seared by the radiation and the gases of the nebula. The Thorians found life. They were little blue things with knobbly limbs and great big smiles. Looking around, the Thorians were silent and aghast. They had no weapons. No defenses. The aliens approached with smiles and refreshments. \n\n\"Welcome. We are the people of Old Tanzish,\" the closest one said, offering what looked like a small round stone and signaling that it was food. \"We believe you will find these delicious.\"\n\n\"How are you alive?\" Asked the Thorians in disbelief, temporarily setting aside their reason for coming. \"How can you survive the nebula?\"\n\n\"When our planet was swallowed by the nebula, we believed we would be safe,\" said the Old Tanzish. \"And so we were.\"\n\n\"How have you survived without defenses? How have you lived here free from enemies or the elements?\"\n\n\"We believed that no enemies would come, and so they did not,\" said the Old Tanzish. \"That is our gift. Anything that we believe becomes reality. We have shaped our corner of the universe to our desires. Only friends visit us here, because we believe enemies will stay away. Every day is joy and celebration, for we believe that we are happy.\"\n\nThe Thorians fell to their knees. Surely these Old Tanzish were the most powerful of all the races. Surely they had the mightiest of gifts. Surely they could help. \"We beg for your help, Old Tanzish!\" they cried. \"There is a race far, far away with a terrifying power. In an instant, they make entire races vanish! Will you help us? Will you borrow our power of travel and save the universe from the humans?\"\n\n\"Humans?\" The Old Tanzish looked grim. \"They are a sad race. Even we, who believe we are happy, are saddened when we think of them.\"\n\n\"You know of them?\" The Thorians queried. \"You have seen them? You know of their lives? You have seen their gift?\"\n\n\"We have,\" said the Old Tanzish. \"You should leave them alone. They won't hurt you.\"\n\n\"Won't hurt us?! They have annihilated entire races! Their gift must be one of god-like destruction. We have lost friends! Our friends have lost friends!\" The Thorians grew angry. \"Tell us of them, and we will find a way to end them with our own strength.\"\n\n\"They just want to live their lives,\" the Old Tanzish responded indifferently. \"I can assure you, they are not even aware of what they have done to you and your friends. Their eyes are not focused upwards. To them, the friends you have lost are nothing more than passing glitches on their computing devices.\"\n\n\"We demand to know of their gift! We will not make threats against you because we are powerless before the Old Tanzish, but if you wish to save the universe from them, you will tell us!\"\n\nThe Old Tanzish sighed. They spoke amongst themselves. They spoke for hours in whispers and hushes. Occasionally they paused and looked at the Thorians expectantly. . .but when whatever they were expecting to happen didn't, they returned to their whispers.\n\nFinally, they addressed the Thorians. \"I apologize,\" one said, \"we attempted to convince each other that you would forget of the humans and leave in peace, but some of us simply could not believe it, and so you have remained here. If you must know, we will tell you.\"\n\n\"Please!\"\n\nUneasily, he spoke. \"The humans are the only race in the galaxy that share our gift. They, too, have the gift to make all that they believe into a reality.\" \n\nIt made sense. \"They turned their gift into a weapon, then,\" the Thorian sighed. \n\n\"No.\"\n\n\"No?\"\n\n\"We believe we are safe, and so we are safe,\" said the Old Tanzish. \"We believe our planet is healthy, and so it is healthy. We believe we are happy, and so we live full lives of meaning and hope and joy.\"\n\n\"And the humans?\"\n\n\"The humans. . .\" the Old Tanzish said mournfully, \"they believe that they are alone.\"" ]	3
	[WP] - Greek mythology is 100% true and here we are in 2016	[ "Among a strewn pile of charcoal sketches and a beat up guitar, with dirty hands cupped and raised, 'Please, sir, can't you spare any change?'\n\n'Get a job, Apollo'. \n\n'This is my job, sir'. Apollo holds up a self-portrait. \n\n'Well, you shouldn't've studied art'. \n\n'Heeey azz-ole. Y-y-y-you shut.....shut.....shut up!'\n\n'Piss off, Dionysius, you drunk'. \n\n\n# # #\n\n\n'Hello, father. The prisoners are coming back from their showers. Please take a seat over there'. \n\nThe priest takes a magazine and a seat. \n\nNaughty Nymphs! This month, Aphrodite and Athena: a secret between sisters!\n\n'Father, they're ready for you'. \n\nThe priest makes his way down the corridor. To his left the Minotaur snorts. To his right an eagle rips out Prometheus's liver. To his left the satyr Silenus calls out, 'The best thing for you is impossible: never to be born!'\n\n'Back! Back, you fowl dreg of lucifer!' the priest yells brandishing his crucifix. \n\nThe priest comes to the meeting room, where, handcuffed and sat at a table, Ares waits, the usual company of guards behind him and one new face. \n\n'Hello, gentlemen. Oh. I don't believe we've met. I'm Paul'.\n\n'Tim', the new guard says,\n\n'Hello, Ares. Shall we continue?' \n\n'Ok'. \n\n'Ok. From 1,000,650'\n\nTogether, Ares and the priest begin, 'Our Father, who art in heaven...'\n\nTim asks his coworkers, 'What's going on?'\n\n'Penance. One Lord's prayer per murder'. ", "\t“So what you’re telling me is that the only people alive are demigods?” I questioned the strange green glowing figure before my eyes. The little wood nymph nodded and cradled her injured arm. \n\t“How can that be possible? And not a single person knows?” I inquired.\n\t“Well, some people do know, but they tried to keep it a secret so as to not cause any sort of wars between the gods.”\n\tThat made sense to me. I just really did not appreciate finding out and not knowing how to control my powers. It also makes sense as to how the human race was able to defeat so many illnesses. Evolution is a lot easier when there is the blood of the gods is coursing through your veins. \n\t“So, what do we do now? Why are you telling me?”\n\t“The darkness is growing stronger and the gates of Tartarus are beginning to open. The gods do not yet realize it, but they will be needing all the help they can get,” she informed me. \n\t“How do we know which god is our parent and why has this not been addressed sooner? This just makes no sense!” I complained.\n\t“Let me explain while we walk because they are currently pursuing me.”\n\tAs we walked she informed me, the Greek gods do, in fact, rule and also wanted no help from the demigods because we haven’t been making our offerings as we used to. There were a select few that worshipped all the major gods so as to keep them all calm, but there had been a recent disturbance when the personification of death, Thanatos decided to do some side work and try to open Tartarus and awaken the Titans. He hopes that with Kronos in charge that he will get some time off and be able to have others do his job for him. \n\t“That story is just unbelievable though! If I were to try and tell anyone about this, they would just laugh in my face!” I responded.\n\t“It makes more sense when you know that the gods only help to replenish the population after major times of destruction. Times such as during the black plague, wartime, most notably the world wars, and even just when natural disasters devastate the land,” she assured. “Now the gods will be needing all the help they can get and the big three gods only have one child every hundred years so as to not have too much demigod power at one time. You are the son of—“\n\tA scythe tore through the nymph and she burst into golden ash. I began yelling as I saw the blade rear back for another swing. It came down fast, but I managed to just narrowly escape the blade by dropping down. The blade got stuck in a large oak tree. I seized the opportunity and rolled away to get some space and gather myself. What stood before me could not be described as human. A large smoky cloud hung in the air with a human skull in the middle. It pulled the scythe out of the tree with ease. The smoke began taking on the shape of human, except it was ten feet tall wielding a scythe!\n\tThen the anger overwhelmed me. This douchebag thinks he can just run up here and assault me and the green lady I just rescued came upon with a broken arm! For some reason my sane thought had abandoned me, it was then that the lightning struck my hand. It didn’t kill me, but left me with a new spear that was glowing white.\n", "\"What do you mean you failed, swimming? How would your Uncle feel if he heard about this?\" Asked Ms.Jackson, a single mom in Detroit.\n\n\"How would my dad feel?\" D'shaun retorted.\n\n\"I'm sending you to Hade's for the weekend,\" she said as she pushed him\n away.\n\n\"But mom you promised to let me climb mount Olympus to see my father.\" said D'shaun as he fell to the ground.\n\n\"Your dad told me he doesn't want to talk to you until you are a man,\" responded Ms.Jackson.\n\n\"That's because he doesn't want to pay child support,\" said D'Shaun as he went to pack his bags. Ms. Jackson rolled her eyes and started to cook dinner as D'Shaun climbed the stairs.\n\n\"I assure you all of my sons start out this way, the more they rebel the stronger they will be,\" said Zeus as he appeared behind Ms.Jackson. He grabbed her by the hips and began kissing her on the neck.\n\n\"Remind me again why you can't be around in his life?\" she asked as she pushed him away.\n\n\"Because he would quickly gain an unfair advantage among his peers, he'll have no need for swimming, he won't ride the bus to school, he'll never learn what it means to be weak. That is why once he has respect for the world around him, I will teach him how to use his powers,\" said Zeus.\n\n\"Then why does he spend every other weekend with Hades or Poseidon?\" Asked Ms. Jackson.\n\nZues began to speak but he was quickly cut off by Athena who walked through a wall,\"If Poseidon knew anything about teaching then your son wouldn't be failing swimming,\" she said as she sat down at the bottom of the stair case.\n\n\"I told you to use the door Athena,\" said Ms.Jackson.\n\n\"You get scarier than Aphrodite when someone intrudes on your home Ms.Jackson,\" said Athena.\n\n\"That's because I have a child to protect,\" said Ms.Jackson as she began cutting chicken.\n\n\"Oh surely, you know harming your son would be the most unwise decision in the world,\" laughed Athena.\n\n\"And so would not using the door next time,\" responded Zeus. \"Come on babe, don't quit on me now we've done this for 17 years, four bathroom fights, three school districts, two forest fires, and just one almost murder that's a new record. You should've hospital rooms my last son filled. Anyways that's not the point we are so close, our son is this close to being the best man he can be on his own,\" said Zeus. \n\nMs. Jackson put down the knife. \"I'm sorry Ms.Jackson,\" chuckled Athena.\n\n\"I hate your daughter sometimes,\" said Ms.Jackson as she turned to face Zeus.\n\n\"Just one more year, I promise he'll make it,\" said Zeus.\n\n\"Then no more random visits from Athena?\" asked Ms.Jackson.\n\n\"You know I could impregnate your mind and we could have a baby without fucking right?\" said Athena.\n\n\"And now she quotes Kanye,\" said Ms.Jackson.\n\n\"Actually Kanye quotes me, I'm secretly Kim Kardashian,\" said Athena.\n\n\"Is that true?\" Asked Ms.Jackson.\n\n\"No but, it'd be hilarious if it was,\" laughed Athena as she walked out the door.\n\n\"yes, no more random visits from any of my daughters,\" said Zeus.\n\n\"Good because Aphrodite has been coming around lately, and I know that you greeks do that incest stuff,\" said Ms.Jackson.\n\n\"Oh those are just rumors,\" said Zues as he embraced Ms.Jackson.\n\n\"Rumor's start somewhere, anyways he'll be down any minute now, you get out of here before he sees you,\" said Ms.Jackson.\n\n\"He won't be able to see me unless he either gets control of his powers or I let him and neither of those is going to happen for at least\"\n\n\"A year?\" asked D'shaun as he appeared next to his dad, sizing him up see if he were taller.\n\n\"You know I can change my height right boy?\" asked Zues.\n\n\"Yea I can too, you wanna see me break the roof?\" asked D'shaun in response.\n\n\"Not another house D'shaun,\" Said Ms.Jackson.\n\n\"Yes mom,\" said D'shaun.\n\n\"If you can control all of your powers than surely you can swim,\" said Zues.\n\n\"Of course I can dad,\" said D'shaun.\n\n\"Then why did you fail the class?\" asked Zues.\n\n\"Because the only time I hear your name is when I fail a class or when I'm in school and the teachers are talking about you,\" said D'shaun as he lowered his head in shame.\n\n\"He's never got less than a 94% in a history class you know?\" said Ms.Jackson. The room went silent for a moment, Ms. Jackson went back to cooking.\n\nZues broke the silence, \"You know, as time has passed my brother's and I have agreed to raise the age of when boys earn the title man, first it was 12, then 13, then 16, and now 18 and Poseidon is hard pressed to raise it to 21 as the average lifespan keeps increasing, but you seem to be ahead of the curve, but you lack maturity and it shows in ways you do not know.\" \n\nHe put his finger under his son's chin and raised it, lightning shot through his eyes quickly, you could almost hear the thunder ringing from inside his head. \"You're a man now, you lower your head for no one, but show respect for everyone. My last son said it best,speak soft but carry a big stick. Now who taught you to use your powers?\" asked Zeus.\n\n\"I taught myself, you were so busy making sure no one interfered with my normal human life you never noticed that I was teaching myself everything,\" smiled D'shaun.\n\n\"You were truly a great boy, and I'm sure you'll be a fine man, but I'm here to make a demigod out of you. Are you ready son? Asked Zeus.\n\n\"Mom said I need to spend the weekend with uncle Hades,\" said D'shaun.\n\n\"That's only because your dad was going to spend the weekend here,\" laughed Ms.Jackson.\n\n\"Mom that's disgusting,\" said D'shaun.\n\n\"Let's go play ball son,\" said Zeus.\n\n\"In a volcano?\" asked D'shaun.\n\n\"No in a ballroom, two simple rules. No one can notice us playing, and you must be as respectful as possible the entire time,\" said Zeus.\n\n\"One problem, I don't own a suit. I don't suppose you want to take me shopping?\" asked D'shaun.\n\n\"What do you mean you don't own a suit?\" asked Zeus as he eyed down Ms. Jackson.\n\n\"I just bought you a suit for prom two weeks ago,\" said Ms.Jackson as she stared down D'shaun.\n\n\"I outgrew it,\" said D'shaun.\n\nZues sighed with anger, \"I guess I owe back child support or somethingb anyways.\"\n\n\"Alright, can it be gold?\" asked D'shaun.\n\n\"You know I've always been a fan of overlyflashy,\" said Zeus.\n\n\"No,\" shouted Ms.Jackson." ]	3
	[WP] The loneliest villain in the world.	[ "I never really thought about what would happen if I won. After so many years of getting my brilliant plans foiled at the last moment, I'd almost forgotten what the endgame was. I'd almost forgotten that I had more purpose than to be the punching bag for some stupid hero. \n\nTurns out, I need that stupid hero. \n\nI guess my most recent plan was just too brilliant. Or maybe he just got lazy. But everything went exactly as it was supposed to, and I was momentarily at a loss. The world was mine! The people were swearing loyalty to me. I was finally in charge, to wreak the destruction I had always dreamed! So why did it feel so... Empty? That damn superhero had surrendered to me fully, and was evaporated for his trouble. No last monologue to give him time to escape. No overlooked sidekicks freeing him at the last minute. Just a zap, and a poof, and the sweet, sweet taste of victory. A taste that quickly turned to ash.\n\nNow? I don't know what to do with myself. My minions are all busy ordering the rabble around, bringing about the changes I have always envisioned. The people all chanting my name, under the penalty of death. The skilled labor forced to build monuments to my memory. The artists churn out paintings glorifying me and demonizing the stupid hero. So why am I so miserable? Why can't I enjoy this??\n\nI guess now I know why it's called the Fortress of Solitude. " ]	1
	[WP] You were supposed to be born to one set of parents, but you chose a different couple. Today, it's time to tell them they're adopted.	[ "Mom? Dad?\n\nI have something I need to tell you. \n\nYou may want to sit down.\n\nNow, I want to preface this by saying that I love you very, very much. I have loved you since I first came into this world, and I will always love you just the same. You have been the best parents I could have asked for. And here's the thing: I did ask for you. \n\nYou're adopted. Both of you. \n\nThis doesn't mean that I love you any less than my brother does. It's just that, before I was born, I discovered that I couldn't keep my real family. It wouldn't have been fair to them. So I chose you, and I've never been more sure that I made the right choice. Your love and protection was as strong as any other set of parents, and I'm so thankful for that. I've always done my best to make you feel as if you were my natural parents, and I hope that I've done right by you. I'm so, so proud of the parents you have both grown into. \n\nNow, I know you may have questions, so I'm here to answer them whenever you want to talk about it. Just let me know. Thanks for sitting so patiently through this, I know this isn't the easiest conversation to have. \n\nOh! I forgot to ask, do you mind if my boyfriend comes to Thanksgiving?\n\nDad, where are you going?" ]	1
	[WP] Humans believe that dreams are just dreams but they are not. When humans dream they appear in our and other realities, at times showing god-like powers and being able to affect the reality around them.	[ "\"... And he said they wanted me on the project management team, just like that!\"\n\n\"Hey, that's so cool! Congratulations!\" I raised my bottle to her.\n\n\"Thanks! I mean I've worked so hard for ohmigods that guy's naked.\"\n\n\"Huh?\"\n\n\"Behind you. Don't look! There's a naked guy on the street, right behind y-- don't turn around, he'll see you!\" she said, staring intently at the label of her beer bottle.\n\nI took off my shades, and under the pretense of cleaning them, glimpsed at the reflection. Sure enough, an older, naked man was standing in the middle of the road, looking around, bewildered.\n\n\"There's something you don't see everyday,\" I muttered.\n\n\"Thank the gods, right?\" she sniggered.\n\nI drained my bottle and, under the pretense of signalling the waiter for another, turned my head to inspect the naked stranger again. He didn't appear to notice, lost as he seemed to be in contemplation. A train passed on the viaduct above the square, and the stranger made for the station tower.\n\n\"Huh,\" I said, \"wonder what's up with him.\"\n\n\"Do you think we should.. I don't know, alert the Stabs?\"\n\n\"I wouldn't bother, they probably--\"\n\nDO YOU KNOW THE BUSINESS OF THE CONSTABULARY BETTER THAN THE CONSTABULARY CITIZEN\n\nShit. I hadn't noticed the Stab approaching.\n\n\"I was about to say, Constable, 'They probably are aware of him already'.\"\n\nAWARE OF WHOM CITIZEN\n\n\"Uh, the naked guy?\" I pointed with my bottle towards the tower, where the crowd of afternoon commuters was conspicuous in its absence.\n\nNUDITY IS AN OFFENSE CITIZEN WASTING CONSTABULARY TIME IS AN OFFENSE CITIZEN PRESENT YOUR IDENTIFICATION\n\nFuck's sake. I produced the cylinder out of my pocket and inserted it into the Stab's slot. The brass sphere rocked on its spoked wheels as it spun the cylinder, assessing my right to, essentially, not be publicly whipped and kicked out of the city.\n\n\"Constable, he's right, there is a naked guy, I noticed him earlier. He's gone to the tower and is probably disturbing the passengers on the train yonder,\" she said, pointing at the train. It swayed gently on the brick arch of the viaduct, exerting more pressure than the delicate construction should take.\n\nYOUR CITIZEN STATUS IS CONFIRMED CITIZEN PLEASE DO NOT INTERFERE WITH THE CONSTABULARY PROCEDURE TO FOLLOW\n\n\"Wouldn't think of it, Constable,\" I said.\n\nI took another drink, as the spherical bulk of the Stab made a beeline to the tower. En route, it was joined by a swarm of other Stabs, all merging into the hexagonal phalanx that was the stuff of nightmares for the seedier elements of society.\n\n\"That guy's so fucked,\" she said.\n\n\"Yeah, well, that's what you get when you can't be bothered to wrap a robe around your ass when leaving the house.\"\n\n\"I guess.\"\n\nOn the viaduct, the train was finally pulling away from the tower, heading towards the glass webs of the water district.\n\n\"So project manager, huh?\"\n\n\"So yeah, I guess slaving over the reports has finally ohmygods there he is again.\"\n\nI snapped to, just as I heard the shrill whistles of the Stabs. Sure enough, the naked guy was running along the viaduct, a pink (flabby, hairy) spot atop the silvery brick.\n\n\"I wonder how he's not dead,\" I said.\n\n\"Come on, the Stabs may be merciless machines, but they don't just kill you outright.\"\n\n\"Well, not them, no, but the electricity on the viaduct rail does. There's a reason the train wheels are ceramic, you know.\"\n\n\"Now that you mention it...\" She took a swig from her bottle. \"Think the Stabs will get him?\"\n\n\"I don't know, I've never seen anyone stupid enough to try setting foot on a train viaduct. And naked at that.\"\n\nWe both watched with interest. The Stabs had apparently stopped at the edge of the tower's platform, and seemed reluctant to continue.\n\n\"I guess Naked Guy got aw-- no, there he goes. Maybe don't look?\"\n\nI needn't have bothered, she'd started staring at her bottle's label as soon as she'd seen the naked form slip and fall from the dizzying height. Her palms against her ears, she was cringing in expectation of the dull thud sure to follow.\n\n\"Huh, there's something you don't see everyday.\"\n\n\"Is it over?\" she asked.\n\n\"Probably, yeah. He's gone.\"\n\n\"I hate seeing people die,\" she whispered.\n\n\"No, I mean he's gone gone. Vanished.\"\n\n\"Vanished?\"\n\n\"Yeah, you weren't looking, he was just above the road, next to that fern planter over there, and then poof, he vanished.\"\n\nShe made no comment, just took a long drink.\n\n\"So yeah, they're gonna make me a project manager.\"" ]	1
	[WP] 30 years after A song of Ice and Fire, a renaissance era begins in Westeros. Write about the new politics, be especially descriptive of surroundings and characters.	[ " Prologue\n\nThis day was painted with autumn leaves of all colors and the air was full of the sounds of the ring of practice swords and the clanking of armor. Maester Olrick could remember a time in his youth when the sounds and smells of the festivities and mirth were all but forgotten. He stood in his chambers staring solemnly out of his window reminiscing about wars and their heroes. He wondered especially about the forgotten heroes and even more so about the forgotten foes. No one would sing about them. Indeed, how could they? What is forgotten is forever lost.\n\nHe breathed in the fresh, crisp air and sighed. No older than six and thirty, but he had already seen more battles and more wounded than he cares to remember in the cold halls of Winterfell. The Stark family had been all but lost, for a time, and their reclamation lead to many hardships.\n\n\"Maester,\" Olrick's thoughts were interrupted by the youngest of the stark children, Lady Ygra. \", sorry to bother you, Maester Olrick, but my Lord father requests to see you in... What are you doing there?\"\n\nThe Maester never turned his gaze away from the open window until the young Lady questioned him. He smiled at her with the memory of warmth in his eyes.\n\n\"Please, pardon me, Lady Ygra,\" he turned and made his way towards the child. She was so young and looked every bit like her father. A Stark in every regard, except for her eyes. Her eyes were a deep, dark green and alive with the warmth of a strong oak in the summer sun. \", I was lost in my thoughts of a time long ago.\"\n\nShe smiled up into the face of the Maester.\n\n\"You're not quite so old to be reminiscing like an old man, Maester Olrick!\" she said with a mischievous grin.\n\nHe laughed at her quip. She was, to be sure, a fiery young Lady.\n\n\"You said your Lord Father requested me in his chambers, yes? We best not keep him waiting.\"\n\nThe pair entered the bedding chambers of Lord Stark to find him sitting at his table with his eldest son, Lord Brandon, with the same letters which arrived from the Citadel earlier that very day.\n\nMaester Olrick had delivered the Lord the letters himself by hand as is the duty of a man in his position. This message once read, however, seemed to weigh strangely upon Lord Jon.\n\n\"Ah, good afternoon, my Lord. I came as soon as I was given word you needed me, but it seems you and Lord Brandon are occupied at the moment,\" said Olrick with wizened respect. \", I pray that I haven't interrupted. \n\nLord Jon rose from his seat, letter in hand, and walked towards the Maester.\n\nThough not much older than him, the maester could see that the years have weighed heavy on his lord and this time of peace was still strange to him. In truth, it was strange to him all.\n\n\"There's no pardon necessary and there's no need to apologize, Olrick.\" said Lord Stark.\n\n\n(will return later to finish)--\n\n\n" ]	1
	[WP] In the middle of an argument, you close your eyes and find your peaceful place, only to open your eyes and find that you are now physically in your peaceful place.	[ "I always go to the same beach every summer, I am due back there in 3 weeks. The same condominium, the same room, the same restaurants, the same stores, the same type books, the same swimming suits. It is a comfort to me honestly, sure sometimes a different destination is a novel idea. But the anxiety of going to a new place and not knowing I would be able to relax… \n\nRelax. \n\nNow I remember, I just got home from work and the Mrs. Is disappointed that I did not make any sales today. “How are we going to pay for your stupid vacation if you can’t focus and sell something already?” \n\nShe has a point, when it comes to the summer I zone out and think about that beach, the chair, the sea breeze on my face. \n\nI loved my wife very dearly in the beginning. She was the first person, other than my friends that I took to the beach. Over the past 5 years it has gone sour. First it was “that soul sucking job” that is ok honey you can look for a new one. Then she couldn’t find a job. Which lead to the emergency fund being used. \n\nHow does that Mungo Jerry song go? “If her daddy’s rich take her out for a meal, if her daddy’s poor just do what you feel…” Yeah her daddy was rich, I now see that, she expects the same lifestyle. We would have that lifestyle if she had stayed at that job, or found a new job before leaving the soul sucking one. \n\n“I can’t believe you are day dreaming in the middle of this conversation! Get your head out of the clouds! Make some damn money or we can’t go anywhere next month you….\n\nIt got warm all of a sudden. \n\nBut dark. \n\nWhat is that sound?\n\nSeems like waves crashing, I really have to admit these day dreams are getting vivid. \n\nThe one thing about the beach, sand gets absolutely everywhere. \n\nIt is going to take forever to get the sand out of my dress shoes. \n\n\n\nFirst Post, I never have gotten the hang of dialogue. \n", "Marco was a man like any other. He worked a mundane job like everyone else, earned moderately well, watched football with his friends on weekends. He was engaged to the woman of his dreams, a petite, brunette South American with kind eyes. Marcos was sitting on the edge of his bed, his fiance laid on the other side, yelling something about nothing. All Marco heard was a muffled voice, blurred out by the ringing in his ears caused by the shock of the news she had just delivered to him. \n\n\nShe fucked someone else?\n\n\"You fucked someone else.\" He stated, interrupting her. \n\nThere was a stagnant, awkward silence that clang to the air. He looked back down at the floor. The ringing had been replaced by her screams. She continued to justify her actions, as if there was any room for justification. Marco's fragile world had just been shattered. The plastic mold that he had grown so accustomed to was not falling apart, and there was nothing he could do to fix it. He felt his heart begin to pound, as he desperately sought some kind of solace in the situation. \n\nAs she continued her tirade, Marco closed his his. \n\nDon't let her see you cry \n\nAs Marco took a deep breath he imagined the beach where they met, five years earlier. The small surfing village of Montanita, Ecuador. He remembered waking up to the crashing of the waves on the beach. The smell of the fruits they ate for breakfast. The taste of her lips in the sweltering heat. \n\nLet me go back... \n\nHe opened his eyes. He was startled to find that he was on a small, twin sized in a modest room made of cement, with the buzzing of a loud fan in the corner. The sun was bursting through a gap in the curtains. He recognized this room. As he stood up, he heard a crash that startled him, and brought his focus to the floor. He saw his copy of Alex Garland's the Beach on the floor next to his sun glasses, both having fallen to the floor when he lifted himself from the bed. \n\nThat's weird... I haven't picked this book up in years... and my old sun glasses... What the fuck? \n\nHe forced the blinds open with a motion that manifested his rushing adrenaline. The view he saw was not the one he was used to. The view he saw from the window was one that was forever ingrained into his mind. There was a hill, with it's dry, eroded slopes being cut short by a strip of small dwellings. There was a light house, painted in the cliche red and white spiral, with a small dirt trail leading from the dwellings to a small door at the base of the lighthouse. In the cluster of buildings directly across the street, there was a woman hanging her clothing out to dry, while what appeared to be her child sat in a white plastic chair, watching a soccer game on a small, fuzzy TV perched on a plastic case. \n\nWhat is this... What happened? \n\nHe blinked his eyes, to see if he would find himself back in his room. Sitting on the edge of his bed, listening to the woman he loved justify her betrayal. The view was still there, however, and he began to breath heavily. \n\ntock tock \"soy yo!\" he heard from the door. It was a familiar voice... It was his fiance. With a moment of hesitation, he took a few steps and slowly opened the door. The sunlight illuminated the room, temporarily blinding Marco in the process. As he lowered his arm from his eyes, he saw her standing in the door way like a gilded goddess coming to save him from the throes of reality. He remembered exactly where he was. He knew when he was. How could he forget this day? It was the day his attempt at reviving his sense of adventure had taken a strange, romantic turn. It was the day he met the love of his life. \n\n\"Oh I'm sorry I must have the wrong room. Me and my friend are staying next door and...\" ", "Is she thinking the same thing? Does it bother her? I don't want her here now, i just want some time alone. \nWhy can't she stop nagging? Why can't she let me be? \nWas it too much to ask?\nI love you mom but sometimes you can be a bitch and i didn't even do anything bad; i just said i wanted to be alone. It's not like I hate you. What will it take and what must i do?\nI just want to be alone. I sometimes wonder what that's like.\nWhat must silence feel like? Can i close my eyes and feel it? Will my mother's voice reach me there- i hope it doesn't? Should i close my eyes until it's over?.\n\n Wow, it's so peaceful, quiet and dark- just like my room, is it my room? or am i too far inside my head? I hope it's not inside my head; I don't like the thoughts inside my head, I know I will not find tranquility here. Why is peace like this?\nMother? \nMother?\nAnybody? At least I can't hear her here but i don't like this place inside my head that does things that deranges me.\n\nWhy can't I open my eyes? Are they open? I can't tell; it's too dark in here and why cannot i feel my eyes in here? Where did my body go? Am i Floating? Please, anyplace but here.\nMother?\nMother?\nCan you hear me?\nMother?\nHelp me, please!\n\n\nFeedback would be great, thanks" ]	3
	[WP] The moment you die, you see a screen that has a numeric score and the words GAME OVER. PLAY AGAIN FOR A HIGHER SCORE? PLEASE CHOOSE YES or NO You briefly see a list of names with high scores.	[ "I'm dead and now everyone will remember me for being so god-damned stupid. What was I thinking? \"I can make that jump.\" Really? Those were my last words aside from \"ah\" and \"help!\" At least, that was what I thought. Before me I saw a massive black screen. At first I simply took it to be an empty void of darkness; I thought I was dead. The words \"GAME OVER\" appeared in great bold letters.\n\n\"1 POINT\"\n\"TRY AGAIN?\"\n\nI looked down and saw an endlessly expanding list of high-scores. At the top of the list I saw a few names I recognized. \"Jesus Christ.\" What a joke, he got to respawn three days later. I searched through the scores until I found my asshole brother, revenge is the only thing I ever cared about. \"2 POINTS\" Are you kidding me? You can be damn sure I'll play again where's the restart button? I searched and searched and I couldn't find anything. Then I scrolled back to the top and saw something I hadn't noticed before. Under \"TRY AGAIN\" it read \"A POSITIVE K/D RATIO IS REQUIRED TO RESPAWN. SORRY.\"\n\nTIL: Kill someone before you die so that you always have a positive k/d.", "\"Ten? Only ten, ahh well what option do I have here...\"\n\nRestart\n\nRandomize\n\nCustomize <--\n\nHardcore mode\n\nQuit\n\nCustomize allows you to select your starting continent, social class as well as gender\n\nCustomize?<--\n\nBack\n\nPlease select traits\n\n\"Strength, endurance, long lasting, maximum health\"\n\nTraits selected\n\nRandom start required to compensate for additional perks\n\nYes?<--\n\nBack\n\nWelcome Grigori Rasputin", "GAME OVER\n\nSCORE: 5\n\nTITLE: The Atoner\n\nCYCLE: 1\n\nAGAIN? (Y/N)\n\nThe screen flickers in the windowless room. The word “Again?” repeating ad nauseum, voice not dissimilar to a child begging for candy. The room is featureless and barren, the only things that exist within these walls is the screen and myself. \n\n“Again?” I tap against the score. Maybe I’ll have a clue of where I am. The number glitches and become blurry before dropping a book into my hands. \n\n“Again?” I open the first page. Born, plus one point. Learned how to walk, plus one point. I flip through several pages, I’m not reading about someone being born. Ah, chapter 8. Stole father’s credit card to buy a video game, minus two points. Killed ants with magnifying glass, minus one point. Chapter 13. Told Cindy that she’s beautiful, plus one point. Chapter 14. Broke Cindy’s heart, minus one point. Chapter 17. Pissed on father’s grave, minus five points.\n\n“Again?” This… is my life. I look at the pages, all of them recording the things I regret. But does it record things I regret or things I’ve done wrong? To confirm I flip through the pages looking for when my band started. \n\n“Again?” Chapter 23. Formed band, plus ten points. Chapter 24 Broke up with girlfriend to go on tour, plus twenty points. So it’s the things I regret. I laugh as the tears begin to well in my eyes. I laugh as my voice begins to crack. \n\n“Again?” I flip to the last page. Chapter 46. Died during kidney donation to save a kid’s life, plus five points. So this is how I die? Reading all the things I’ve done?\n\n“Again?” \n\n“AGAIN WHAT, YOU ANNOYING COMPUTER?!?!” I slam my fist against the screen. Cringing, I nurse my hand. \n\n“Would you like to try again?” The voice changes to my mother’s. Try again? My life? Is that even allowed? Should I even do it?\n\n“Would you like to try again?” This time the voice belongs to my father. There were so many things I wished I could do with my old man. Tell him that I didn’t blame him anymore. Tell him that he didn’t need to take comfort in the bottom of a bottle. \n\n“Would you like to try again?\" My little girl. She must be scared right now… \n\n“Would you-” \n\n“Yes.” \n", "The crash itself was quick. Painless. I felt the car veer off the shining road, slick with rainwater, and for those last few moments felt almost like I was watching from some outside perspective. I died instantly after I slammed into the telephone pole.\n\nAfter, there was black, and a distinct lack of a body. Like the only thing in this strange world was my own mind. But suddenly in the black, text flashed.\n\n 117,992\n YOU DIED\n PLAY AGAIN?\n YES NO\n HIGH SCORES:\n\nA sea of initials scrolled before me, with the highest score nearing 100 million points. I had died a 27-year-old assistant DA, with no real accomplishments to my name. But what did this screen mean? A postmortem hallucination?\n\nI didn’t know what to do in this bodiless state. I couldn’t speak, couldn’t move: but I thought. Yes.\n\nA small arrow appeared next to Yes, and I thought the word again. I heard a click, and the screen again faded to black.\n\n”It’s a girl,” says the father in some archaic Asian dialect. He picks up the newborn, born into a family of eight, who is screaming and crying, as a child does. This child would not make it past the age of two, as in the year 755 most children did not make it to adulthood.\n\nAnd she would have the same screen as she did when she was a 27-year-old man.\n\nAnd she in her next life would be born a man on April 20, 1889, in Austria, and he would kill himself when he was 56.\n\nAnd later, she would be born a Polish Jew, killed by her past self. And she would be born as me. And as you. She would be born again and again, from the earliest human to the last.\n\nUntil there was no more.", "Nothing. \n(What the hell? What happened? Where am I?)\n\nNothing. \n(Whoa! Did I really dodge that bullet?)\n\nNothing. \n(It WAS shot point blank, though...)\n\nNothing. \n(Ah well, I guess I am neo-Neo, dodger of bullets, the chosen-)\n\n\"You have died.\" \n(...)\n\nNothing. \n(Ah, dammit.) \n\nNothing. \n(Wait, why does my afterlife look like the end screen from my old Atari?)\n\n\"You scored -3 out of a possible 7 billion! Would you like to:\" \n(-3? MINUS THREE? Out of SEVEN FUCKING BILLION? Oh, c'mon, NO WAY I am that shit a player!!)\n\n\"-> Play again? \nOR \nSee the High Scores \nOR \nQuit & Exit?\" \n(WTF is this now? Does that arrow move? How do I-)\n\n\"Play again? \nOR \n-> View the High Scores \nOR \nQuit & Exit?\" \n(So, that's how. Okay, let's see... Who sucks the least at this game? And what are they calling it, anyway? The game of life? L.I.F.E.? Or 'lyf'? Or something else? Oh wait, here comes the list...)\n\n\"Top scorers for earth until your end of life:\" \n(It better NOT be someone I know, or I'll-)\n\n\"1. Adolf Hitler 10,891,827\" \n(What the-)\n\n\"2. Josep Stalin 6,817,238\" \n(-fucking fuck?!)\n\n(...)\n\n(...)\n\n(Alright, is THAT how it is?! Fine, let's go again, you bunch of fucking plebs!! I'll show you guys how it is done! I showed your mom last night and she loved it, didn't she?)\n\n\"-> Play again? \nOR \nSee the High Scores \nOR \nQuit & Exit?\" \n(Y.E.S.)\n\n\"Please wait while the game restarts.\" \n(Oh god, it's a console. I hate consoles.)\n\n\"Would you like to design your character?\" \n\"->YES or NO\" \n(God, no! Not on a console! NEVER on a console.)\n\n\"YES or ->NO\" \n(Real men don't 'design' their characters. Real men play with whatever they get. Whatever. They. Get.)\n\n\"You will be born [Ibrahim Awad Ibrahim al-Badri](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Abu_Bakr_al-Baghdadi#Background). You will spawn near Samarra in Iraq, on the 28th July 1971.\" \n(Ah, FFS! It uses the CS:GO engine! I swear if the campers in this game are as bad as the ones I used to rage-quit against, I'll fucking burn them all alive! God, I hate campers!!)\n\n\"Can you beat the top score?\" \n(Beat it? You bet your ass I can beat it! I'll beat it so hard, Michael Jackson will moonwalk all over your mother's ass!)\n\n\"Let's play!\" \n(BRING. IT. ON.)\n\n---------------\nDear /r/WritingPrompts/, you are killing me here. \n\nI haven't written in years and now, I have responded to two prompts (I REPEAT, TWO PROMPTS!!) in these past fifteen days! At this rate, I'll HAVE to start seriously working on that story I have been putting off for the last four years! I'll have to do the NaNoWriMo this year! \n\nHave mercy on a poor soul, won't you please?" ]	5
	[WP] "Actually, policy says we reapers must ask you if you want to die or remain alive. For the most part, people tend to choose death."	[ "He just stared at me, his fat head blown wide open. One eyeball dangled lazily from the socket, swaying side to side, in sync with the ticking from my wristwatch. The wristwatch that displayed 4:55. My shift’s supposed to be over at 5. I guess dinner plans are down the shitter, once again.\n\n“What?” I asked, the intensity of his intact staring eyeball irritating me.\n\n“What do you mean, what?!” He seemed surprised that he could speak. “That jackass shot me in the face! With a shotgun! I’m dead!” Froglike jowls quivered as he spoke. He tilted his head to the right in some attempt to keep what brains he had left inside of his broken skull. \n\n“Quite astute of you.” I adjusted my black robes and leaned the obnoxious sickle against the wall. I really hated that thing. “Look, I’m going to make this quick. You don’t have to be dead.” \n\n “I don’t think I follow.” A chunk of his brain fell out of his gaping skull, hitting the linoleum floor with a sickening plop. He stared at it apathetically. \n\nI really just wanted to go home. You have no idea how much paperwork we have to do when someone dies. It’s absurd and in no way streamlined. The incompetence of the afterlife bureaucracy never ceased to amaze me, it rivals government work.\n\n“You don’t have to be dead.” I sighed. It didn’t seem complicated to me. Why did everyone make this question so difficult? Mortals are supposed to want to live, have a second chance and all that nonsense.\n\n“My head’s gone! Of course I have to be dead!” He tried to stuff the dangling eyeball back inside the ruined socket, only succeeding in popping it like a grape. White ooze squirted against my black robes. This guy was really beginning to irk me.\n\n“No, no you don’t. I can send you back.” I was really hoping to persuade him.\n\n“Will you fix my head?” He wiped his thick eye juice on his too-tight tee shirt, pasty white belly hanging out as he pouted.\n\n“Not exactly. But still, you’d be alive. That’s good, right?” \n\n“Do I get to go to heaven at least?” He chewed on his lip, glancing around my nondescript office.\n\nMortals are so predictable. They all ask the same stupid questions.\n\n“I won’t know until I fill out your CL Form 543I and get those results back. That takes a bit of time. You have to choose now. Alive or dead.” I glanced back down at my watch. 4:59. God damn it. \n\n“I’m not going to stumble around without a head. I’ll look like an idiot. Besides, my bum knee doesn’t hurt anymore. I think I’ll stay dead.” He folded his flabby arms across his chest, illustrating the fact that he was settled on the matter.\n\nI groaned. It was always the same. Mortals cling to their fragile lives because the afterlife is an uncertainty. When it’s confirmed for them, they never want to go back. \n\nFully exasperated, I opened a heavy drawer and retrieved the necessary paperwork. \n\n“Let’s get started, shall we?” ", "It was Sunday afternoon, I was driving home after going on a short trip to the store. The trunk was full of fresh fruits and vegetables nestled in their brown paper bags. I began thinking of what I was going to cook for dinner, my kids loved that pizza I made last Thursday but we just had that so it would have to be something else. I thought maybe some music would help, I looked at the radio to find my favorite station. \n\nBAM! Suddenly I wasn't in my car, I watched as a car crashed into the side of my grey sedan. The metal screamed and shrieked at the cars collided. They swerved off the road and into a tree by the ditch. Stunned I ran to the cars to help, before me was a grizzly scene. There I was about 10 feat from the car, I looked down at my self confused. This is me, how can I be looking at myself? I felt a warm hand on my shoulder, I looked over to see a weathered old man be side me. \n\n\"Its a shame\" he said \"I don't know why people drink and drive\". I looked at him and then back at me, I shrieked \"Im dead on no please don't tell me Im dead\". He looked at me with sadness in his eyes \"You are not dead, we reapers are obligated to give you a choice\" he sighed \"But first I must tell you about your condition. You have a fractured spine you would be paralyzed from the neck down, you have serious brain damage if you recovered you may possibly be able to speak\". He took a deep breather and looked me in the eyes \"I have to give you a choice, you can chose to live or you can chose to die\". \n\nI stepped back in shock, failing to my knees I thought about my kids and my wife. What would they do without me I cant die? Then I thought about me and what they would have to do I i lived they would pay for tons of medical bills and rehab. I looked the old man in the eyes and said \"Will.. will they be okay\". He looked at me and said \"I cant say, it is up to you decide\". I turned to look at my body, the mangled mess look crunched up on the ground and I felt sick to my stomach.\n\n I looked back at the reaper and said \"I told my wife I would love her till death do us part, I guess it is time for us to part\"." ]	2
	[WP] Instead of the "No child left behind“ law there is now a “No child goes ahead” law where if one person fails in your class all of the students are held back.	[ "Joseph. \"You have passed the following grade of 11th and can now progress to the grade of 12.\n\nA huge cheer came up from the crowd because he was the worst scoring kid in the grade, and if anyone failed in the grade, the whole class had to stay. \n\n\"Hell Yeah!!!\" Shouted the oldest one, called Jared. He was in a particularly bad school and was now in the age of 29.", "Joseph. \"You have passed the following grade of 11th and can now progress to the grade of 12.\n\nA huge cheer came up from the crowd because he was the worst scoring kid in the grade, and if anyone failed in the grade, the whole class had to stay. \n\n\"Hell Yeah!!!\" Shouted the oldest one, called Jared. He was in a particularly bad school and was now in the age of 29.\n\n", "David wasn't doing particularly well this year. He'd fallen into a deep state of depression after his cousin was killed by a drunk driver, and his grades had been plummeting. His friends watched as David slipped further and further away, and those stupid \"no child goes ahead\" laws weren't helping. When David finally failed his classes, everyone would be held back and take it out on him. But Caleb, David's best friend, knew that it really wasn't his fault. He slowly started to understand the purpose behind the law, as messed up as it was.\n\nCaleb talked with his friends about an idea he'd had. They all agreed that they needed to stand by David, regardless of their grades being in jeopardy. If they could help their friend, it might restore his faith in humanity and help lift him out of the hole he was living in. Caleb and his girlfriend Gwen decided to spearhead the plan, and started talking with their teachers and other classmates.\n\nTheir reception was... less than promising. While people were sympathetic to David's loss, most didn't care and were only looking out for themselves. But Caleb was the captain of the football team and Gwen was infamous for her silver tongue. Together, they were able to rally the school behind one simple, if difficult, goal; get David to pass.\n\nIt was quite the sight to behold. Everyone in their classes found some way to contribute. Some teens started tutoring David in this or that subject. Others formed a study group to help take the pressure off of him. Those who couldn't or wouldn't help with David's classes just came out to be there for him. Caleb talked a girl who David liked into dating him, and others just did what they could the be nicer and more supportive.\n\nWhat was interesting was that it was all genuine, even if it was self serving. The school made it very clear that the students could not cheat, manipulate, or otherwise \"throw the game.\" Everyone still had their own work to do, and no one could put David into a false situation just to get credit. They couldn't throw him the ball in P.E. or only have him called on in class; it had to be natural.\n\nUnfortunately, David pushed back and pushed back hard. He was wary of everyone being friendly all of a sudden, and was actually mad with his friends for doing this. But Caleb didn't let up.\n\n\"Don't you see? Don't you get it?\"\n\n\"No. I don't,\" David said.\n\n\"I just got everyone, EVERYONE, to pull together to help you.\"\n\n\"But it's all a lie. They don't want to help me.\"\n\n\"So what? Why does that matter. Why does it matter than Kent just wants to get into a good university, or that Keri just doesn't want to have her parents rider her all summer for failing?\"\n\n\"That's my point. It's... no one cares about me.\"\n\n\"Don't they? Sure, half our grade are self-serving pieces of shit. But they all got behind this.\"\n\n\"Why?\"\n\n\"Because...\" Caleb wasn't sure how to explain it, despite having done so hundreds of times already. \"This is a chance. A chance to do something good. Even if they don't care, even if they are just doing it for themselves.\" Caleb paused. \"This is a chance to do something as a community, and everyone agrees.\"\n\nThe two friends sat in silence for a while. Finally, David spoke up. \"You're a giant asshole. You know that?\"\n\n\"And why is that?\"\n\n\"Because you got half the school to pretend to be my friend.\"\n\n\"No. I got half the school to watch your back, and taught them there's more in this world than just them.\"\n\nDavid smiled. \"That's why you're an asshole.\"\n\nDavid was finally willing to at least try, but with only a month before exams, he had to work harder than ever. The following weeks were exhausting. When David wasn't being tutored or attending some study group or another, he was going on dates, attending parties, or just having lunch at a full table. Everyone had a part and everything had a purpose.\n\nThe tutoring helped David pull up his grades and understand things he'd missed in class that were holding him back. The parties and the new friends helped lift him out of depression and keep him positive. And dating Michelle helped repair his soul. He'd had eyes on her since junior high, but never had the courage to ask her out. It turns out she had cold feet too, making them a great, if awkward, couple. For the first time in almost a year, David was happy, and everything fed back into itself. He was learning more, which raised his self-esteem. Feeling better about himself and being in a relationship made him more confident in school and pushed him to study harder.\n\nAs the school approached exams, David and everyone else were exhausted. They struggled to make that last push. David's marks had rebounded, but he was so far behind that graduating still wasn't assured. But everyone kept pushing as hard as they could, doing anything they could to help David get ready.\n\n------------\n\n\"What happens?\" David said to Caleb. The two and a few friends were having a quiet night just before exams.\n\n\"What do you mean?\"\n\n\"If this doesn't work... if I fail...\"\n\n\"Then we fail.\"\n\n\"But, everyone... I don't know if I can take the pressure.\"\n\n\"We all went into this knowing that it might not work.\"\n\n\"Thanks. That fills me with confidence.\"\n\n\"Let me finish. We had nothing to lose. You were going to fail and hold us all back. Everything that's happened... it was to give us all a chance.\"\n\n\"I don't think I follow you.\"\n\n\"If you fail next week, it means we all failed. Not just our classes. We'll have failed each other.\"\n\n\"So I'll be letting everyone down.\"\n\n\"No. If you fail, we fail together. I told you. Everyone is behind you. If you fail, it's because we let you fail.\"\n\nDavid finally started to see it. For being a dumb jock, Caleb really had it together.\n\n------------\n\nExams came and went, and the students sat nervously in their homeroom classes to hear the results. The principal came into the grade 12B class to give them the news.\n\n\"Good morning, everyone. Before we get started, I want to thank everyone for all their hard work this year, and especially in these last two months. Everyone really stepped up, and the entire school is proud of you.\" The principal paused. \"Unfortunately, one of your classmates fail two of his final exams.\"\n\nThe room broke out. While there were a lot of sighs and protests, there was a lot of support as well. Over half the class came over David's desk.\n\n\"I'm sorry. I did my best.\"\n\n\"It's not your fault, dude.\"\n\n\"We'll get it next year.\"\n\n\"I knew we should have spend another day on math.\"\n\nEvery comment, hug, and pat on the back was an acknowledgement that they had failed. No one was blaming David.\n\n\"Excuse me. Everyone please take a seat,\" said the principal. \"Despite Mr. Kieth failing two of his exams, the school is moved by all of your efforts. The 'no child goes ahead' laws were controversial, but they were enacted for a reason. And over the last month in particular, you all showed us that reason.\" The principal paused to clear his throat. \"You all came together to help for friend, your classmate, and your peer. You all gave something to help someone else in a time of great difficulty. And although some of you did it for personal reasons, it was clear to the staff what the real intentions were.\"\n\n\"But we still failed,\" called out one of the students.\n\n\"If you will let me finish. All of you came together to help Mr. Kieth. All of you set your differences, feelings, and goals aside to help him. You sacrificed weekends and put your own relationships on hold to help one of your peers. You all took ownership for a situation that you didn't necessarily create and gave it everything you could.\" He turned to Ms. Maloney, the homeroom teacher.\n\nMs. Maloney spoke up. \"That is why Mr. Keegan lobbied the Board for your graduation. Your efforts perfectly reflect the intent of this law. You came together, as a whole, to take responsibility for your education, and your actions need to be considered.\"\n\n\"Thank you, Ms. Maloney. Regardless of the outcome, I mean it when I say that your teachers are proud of you.\" The principal continued with more pleasantries. \"But the burning question, I guess, is when. Unfortunately, I can't answer that. Your case is before the Board of Education, and they have promised that they would rule on it as quickly and appropriately as possible. You should prepare yourselves for bad news, but you should all be proud of yourselves. I'll let you know as soon as I hear from the Board.\n\n------------\n\n\"Acknowledging the actions taken by the student body and weighing that against the grades provided by the school, I am ready to present a ruling.\" The chair of the Board of Education's appeals committee adjusted his papers. \"Mr. Kieth had shown tremendous growth over the previous two months, and although he ultimately did fail two of his final exams and thus his classes, we agree that if his growth had continued, more time would have changed the outcome. So with this in mind, I motion to approve the graduation of the Central Heights' Grade 12 class, based on the spirit of the Joint Education Act. All in favour?\"" ]	3
	[WP] You are a villain with powers that can only be used for "good" or a hero who's powers are obviously "evil."	[ "Crash!\n\nI looked up from my invention I was creating to see what 'Superhero' was attempting to stop me this time. He was wearing a mask and a cape, like some sort of... Superhero.\n\nI sighed, preparing my Evil speech.\n\n'Oh! Hello there, Luchanor.' I raised my hands in a threatening manor, all the while begrudgingly putting on a fake scary voice. 'Welcome to my abode! Which will also be-' I rolled my eyes as I hit the very obvious red button next to me. 'Your... Demise!' I watched as the laser cage I set up on the exact spot he had landed went into effect.\n\n'Darn you, Doctor Jozeph!' He cried heroically at me. 'How do I keep falling for your obvious traps?' \n\nLuchanor was not the smartest, but he was the top superhero in his little gang of saviours, so I guess he must've 'Sensed my Evil' like Goliath kept telling me he could.\n\nI resisted the urge to just blow up the cage and let him go, and turned away from him to hide my smile. I stroked the fluff that was my sideburns and began my favourite part of the procedure, the monologue.\n\n'Well, since your here, Luchanor, I guess I will tell you a story of my past.' I peeked at him to make sure he was still paying attention. 'Ever since I was young I was never fed any milk. Now look at me!' I turned to him, pointing at my slightly fat figure. 'I'm just not the kind of person I wanted to be!'\n\nThen came the fun bit. 'Well now, I wanted to make sure NO ONE ended up like me! So I created this!' I threw away the white cloth of my brand new invention-\n\n'The Calcifer! This machine focuses on babies under the age of two and gives them all the Calcium they would need to grow big and strong!'\n\nI threw back my head and laughed- Not because I was evilly laughing, but because of how hilarious the whole situation seemed.\n\nLuchanor obviously had just caught on. 'You MAD MAN- Wait what?'\n\n'What's wrong Luchanor? Confused that even after the FIFTY GODAMN TIMES I told you I was making this machine for good, you still attempted to stop me?'\n\nI pressed the button that trapped him, letting him free. I crossed my arms and tapped my foot to show my disappointment towards him. 'Well? Got anything 'Heroic' to say?'\n\nLuchanor sighed. 'I'm... Sorry, Doctor Jozeph. I thought this was gonna be the time you destroyed the Earth, o-or took over it with a mind control ray or something...'\n\nI hugged him solemnly. 'I'm glad you finally realised. Now, go get Goliath. He's making an ant-squashing machine.'\n\nWith Luchanor gone, I finally could keep working on the Calcifer. And there would be no interruptions... Well, until Jumpman or Singeman came flying in of course.\n\nEnjoy this story? I'm currently writing a book called 'The End' which focuses on the apocalypse and the peoples struggles in it. I would love to write more on this Subbreddit if you'd want me to. Thanks for reading!" ]	1
	[WP] After a tragic battle, you finally come face to face with the Demon Lord. You look behind you and your remaining backup is the bard.	[ "Smoke and ruin were all that remained\nAft the battle for the Earth\nCountless lives of heroes it claimed\nEach every one of worth.\n\nThough two did still stand to stem the tide\nWhich poured from the Gates of Hell. \nOne, a warrior of noble pride,\nTwo hundred beasts did he fell.\n\nThe other hero, a musician of sorts\nStood stout before the maw.\nAccustomed to performing for kingly courts,\nrecounting stories of yore.\n\nThrough the gates came the Devil himself\nwho laughed at the might that was mustered:\nFifty slain, a knight and an elf\n'twixt him and that which he lusted.\n\n\"I'll strike you a deal,\" piped the voice of the bard\nWho now stood boldly in the middle.\n\"This plane is yours if you play hard\nand defeat me with your fiddle.\"\n\nThe Dark Prince laughed as he waxed his bow,\nCertain he'd win and reign the supreme.\nAnd the rest of the story, as you know\nResulted in Satan's regime.\n", "The door loomed above the man and he heard himself grunt with distaste. This was it though. Not counting some sort of hell portal, or other magic trick, this was as high as the fortress went. He turned and opened his mouth to shout at him men. What came instead was a wheeze of confusion. There stood only one man behind the warrior, and he was short, lithe, and where he should have had armor and a sword, axe, pike, or anything else, he wore leathers, and held a lute.\n\n\"Hello! Yes. They are all indeed dead.\" The strangely jovial man whipped his three-pointed hat from his head and swung it in a flourish. He bowed low as the feather in the band upon the hat caught up, and stood to smile, \"My name is something your men have chosen to ignore. But now that there is only you and I, the duty of your last stand is shared with Gerald, The Greatest Trickster Ever To Have Lived.\"\n\nThe warrior still stood there, gaping. When had this happened? What had happened? How long had they been only the two of them?\n\n\"Your men have sort of fallen off as we climbed. Each new wave of eh... things has slowly picked them off one by one. And I believe my singing may in part be to blame for the circumstances. It is easy to get lost in a battle hymn, yes?\"\n\n\"You're it?\" The man stammered softly.\n\n\"I am,\" Gerald nodded.\n\n\"And you do not flee?\" For the first time, the warrior focused on the bard, as if really seeing him, suddenly.\n\n\"Sir. you are a Sir, yes?\" Gerald actually waited for the warrior to dumbly nod his head at the question before continuing, \"Sir, there are hundreds of leagues of scorched earth between here and the nearest forest. They were demons we were fighting. I have nowhere to go, reasonably speaking. If I leave you here alone, you may die and I will not likely make it out alive, as I was a compatriot. If I stay, you have a better chance, low though it may be, and that means so do I.\" \nHis head canted briefly in recognition as Gerald spoke, \"So here I am. Ready to follow the brave Sir... your name?\"\n\n\"Aaron.\" His name fell clumsily from the man's lips, \"Aaron Callistar.\"\n\n\"Yes, my apologies. Your men wanted me for my performance, not for my conversation. And you are the subject of more than one battlefield promotion. So, I will follow the ever fearless Sir Aaron Callistar into the maws of the beast, and perhaps even survive the embellish the tale... as much as one can embellish fighting a Lord of demons.\"\n\n\"So, Gerald, you will follow me into that room and do whatever it is you do. And I will fight.\" Aaron hefted his long sword in one hand, and made to bring it down on his shield.\n\nBut when Gerald threw up his hands, waving them around and even making to move in the way of the noisy things coming together, the warrior had to stumble to pull himself from harming the bard. \"No! Shh! Shh!\" Gerald chastised the man. \"Talking is fine. That's a damnedably thick door this lord has there. But clamoring your armor and weapons is just going to alert him.\"\n\n\"Your point? We have laid siege to this fortress for a week. That thing in there is aware.\" Aaron squinted at the man.\n\n\"But not aware of how many of us there are!\" Gerald pointed out. \"And that door must be locked. You may break it down, but I have an idea.\"\n\n\"... I'm listening.\" Aaron had no other option. His plan had been to bash through the door, but he had also thought he might have ten, maybe twenty men to do it with.\n\n\"See, all bards know a special spell. It's call 'knock'.\", Gerald explained.\n\n\"You mean that spell wizards use to unlock doors? Yes. That's how we got into the fortress. And this tower.\" Aaron now had an incredulous eyebrow raised.\n\n\"Well, yes, but the bardic knock is special!\", Gerald set his bag out and rummaged through it a moment. With a little \"ahh!\", he pulled a bottle from it. Thing went to his lips, amber liquid flowing into him quickly before half disappeared. \"Here,\" The bard said, handing it to the warrior, \"That's good whiskey, and this calls for it. Do drain that other half while I find what else it is I need.\"\n\nIf anything the bard had said was correct, and Aaron did doubt most of it, this bit had to be the most correct of all. He threw his head back and let the hot liquid wash down his throat, and came away feeling just a little braver for it.\n\n\"Thank you,” Gerald smiled at the other man as he took the bottle back. The bard slipped that bottle into a little leather pouch, dropped that on the ground, and then proceeded to stomp on it as if it were aflame.\n\n\"What in the name of the heavens are you doing!?\" Aaron hissed\n.\n\"Preparing material components. Just trust me.\" Gerald put a finger to his lips and moved over to the big looming door.\n\nIt wasn't as if Arron had a choice in the matter. Gerald had a plan, and he didn't. \"So, I have only one thing to say,\" Gerald looked at the warrior from the door, \"Well, two really.\"\n\n\"Yes?\" Aaron leaned closer to listen.\n\n\"First, I need you to stand around the corner. Don't make a peep. Don't even let your chain mail rattle.\"\n\n\"I can do that much.\"\n\n\"Good. The second, is this. Stab him right in the balls. Fuck everything else. Right in the gonads.\" Admittedly, the bard had to stifle the laugh as he watched Arron's eyes go wide.\n\n\"What are you even saying!?\"\n\n\"You killed this thing's daughter out on the battle field, right? Well, it had to make it somehow. And I'm guessing it's got testes. So stab them. Stab them many, many times for me.\" Gerald drove his point home with that.\n\n\"And if it's another woman?\" Aaron, for some reason, tried to find a hole in this plan, \"We've never actually seen this 'lord of demons'.\"\n\n\"Well, first off, demons are filled with hubris and egotistical. If it were a lady, she'd have called herself a queen or something. And, Sir knight, I know you haven't the opportunity, but I've traveled the world, and when you jab a sword like that up a lady's privates, it ends about as well as jabbing it up a man's. So the idea doesn't change.\" Gerald's point was well made as Aaron found himself shaking his head to ward off the terrible thought, slinking into the corner.\n\n\"When you're ready....,\" Aaron nodded, but resumed shaking his as the absurdity of it all struck him. And then the bard, very simply, but very loudly knocked on the door. Aaron watched is silent horror as it the little man in leathers wrapped his knuckles on the door over, and over... and over again.\n\nThe door swung inwards a moment later, and the fortress rumbled as footsteps of something very large came from the door way. \"What is this?\" The voice was a horrible grating sound, and Aaron had to fight covering his ears. He would not chance his armor clanging, not now.\n\n\"My... my goodness you are very large. Seven... no... eight. Eight eyes. Well.\" Gerald let his head slant at that, \"Listen, Lord of Demons, I am the only man left standing. I am it. There is no other. Your... ehm... men have done a wonderful job of obliterating our forces. And, by the graces of a power I do not understand, I am left here.\"\n\n\"You speak too much.\" The horrid thing loomed over Gerald, breath almost like fire on his face.\n\n\"Yes, well, I was going to make much more of an act out of it.\" The bard sighed, and his hand swung upwards in an arc in front of the things face. It reared back, a cry echoing from the demon lord's gullet that made the fortress itself shake. The glint of glass shards lay on the ground, and sticking in the monsters face where they had landed. But, most of all, the things six hands came to it eyes, rubbing them fiercely, only to make it howl that much louder as the glass behind its eyelids ground into the soft flesh there harder.\n\n\"Now. Now is the time.\" Gerald was running, sliding between the thing's legs as it gave up on its sight and swung wildly at the air. \"Sir knight, now!\" the bard shouted back.\n\nAaron, for his own part, was standing is stunned silence for a moment. Somewhere far off he heard the bard's voice calling for him, and he felt himself pick up his shield and brace it against his shoulder. His sword rose and he charged, years of training and experience on the battle field taking over for him.\n\nHe swung upwards as he ran between the demon lords' legs, and felt his blade bite hard into the flesh there, digging deep. And as he came out the other side he swung again, and again, and again. He heard the thing lash out, tossing rubble left and right, all around him.\n\nIt fell, rolling and howling in agony, hands on its face and between its legs, holding it most sensitive parts. There was a hard thud, and terrible cracking crunch of bone. And then the sound came again... and again... and again, and each time the cries of the monster were softer, until they didn't come at all.\n\nAaron saw the thing heave out its last breath, and looked up to see Gerald standing there, a very large piece of rubble above his head. \"I have traveled the world. I have never met anything that isn't killed by a big fucking rock to the face.\" The stone hit the floor with one last thud as the bard dropped it and fell to his knees, chest heaving. \"You have to tell me, Aaron... does it have balls?\"\n\nThe knight looked at the monster, and followed the body down to the destroy privates. Beneath it were two bean shaped organs, laid in the pool of blood on the ground. \"It... had balls.\"\n\n\"Excellent. You owe me half a bottle of whiskey. I'm going home!\"\n\n", "Darian took stock of his situation. His party lay decimated at the feet of the Demon Lord. The great wizard Vendrath smoldered, burnt to a crisp, having fallen victim to the Dark One's fiery breath. The lovely Melandra, elf-priestess of the Glimmering Wood, lay at both the eastern and western ends of fiery caldera the Demon Lord called home, rent in twain by the mighty claws of the beast. Jervath, the thief, was vaporized. Darian wasn't quite sure how that happened, but he was fairly certain Jervath wasn't coming back.\n\n\"Right then,\" muttered Darian as he hefted his great battle axe to his shoulder. \"I guess I'll do this on my own.\"\n\nAs Darian shifted his weight in preparation to charge, he heard a throat clearing behind him. He had forgotten the newest addition to the party!\n\n\"You are yet amongst the living I see, Vinny the Bard.\" Darian was shocked. He hadn't thought much of the man. \"The denizens of. . . from whence did you say you hail?\"\n\n\"Chi-town. But you ain't probably never heard o' Chicago. I sure as hell never heard o' this crazy place before that light flashed in front o' my Ford. Lucky thing that, those North Side boys was gainin' on me quick.\"\n\nDarian didn't understand most of what Vinny said. \"Yes well, the denizens of this \"Chicago\" are clearly more stalwart than I first imagined upon seeing you. Truly, I am amazed you have survived thus far without armor.\"\n\n\"Baby, a pin-stripe suit is all the boys from the Chicago Outfit need,\" Vinny gave his lapel a cocky flip as he spoke.\n\n\"Well, glad I am that you remain by my side Vinny. I have heard that the skillful playing of a master bard can soothe the rage of even a great demon. Play your finest tune, for your life depends on it, and lull the Demon Lord to sleep.\"\n\n\"Say what big fella? Listen, I ain't got a friggin' idea what you're talkin' 'bout, but I ain't got nuttin' to play a tune wit', and there's a reason I wasn't a choir boy, besides me runnin' wit a bad crowd,\" Vinny was fairly certain Darian was a simpleton. He had only accompanied these imbeciles on their \"quest\" because that mook in the robe, Ven-something, had promised Vinny that he could return him home when it was all over.\n\n\"But surely good Vinny, the case you carry bears an instrument, I have seen its like before.\"\n\n\"What dis? Dis is Tommy. Look, I was trying to save this for a rainy day, I'm pretty sure I ain't gettin' any more ammo out here in fairy land, but I guess it don't get any rainier than the fuckin' devil himself. Here goes nuttin'\"\n\nVinny pulled his Thompson submachine gun out of the violin case in which he had concealed it and unloaded an entire drum magazine into the Demon Lord's face.\n\nDarian stared in amazement as the Demon Lord's body crumpled to the floor. He was never going anywhere without a bard again.", "Dammit. This is all I had left? A legion of soldiers armed to the teeth, a health stock of well equipped cavalry, a crack cadre of wizards, and I'm stuck facing the pinnacle of diabolical evil with a musician? Don't get me wrong, I dabbled in some Barding before settling to a solid career of becoming a Paladin so I appreciate the arts. I can still pick out a mean tune on a lute if the urge hits, you know? But that's all this guy wanted to do! That was the height of his ambition, to actually become a bard. A friggin' bard. I sighed and shook my head.\n\nThe Demon Lord saw my consternation and chuckled. Then his eyes twinkled wickedly and he reached down behind his throne. As his great clawed fingers rummaged for... something he spoke. His voice sounded like a choir of agony. \"I'll make you a deal, would-be heroes.\" He finally found what he was looking for, some sort of cloth wrapped bundle. He tossed it, delicately if such a thing were possible from a demon lord, in my direction. I caught it easily and began to unwrap it. It was a lute. The Demon Lord had tossed me a lute of all things. I plucked a few strings, and I had to admit the sound was exquisite. The bard gave a whistle of appreciation, clearly here was an instrument of some excellent craftsmanship. \n\n\"Play the best song in the world, or I'll eat your soul.\"\n\nWell, the bard and I each looked at each other and we said \"Okay\"..." ]	4
	[WP] After Air Bud made the team, a poor sap got kicked out. Attempting to get back on, the teammate saw the dark side of Bud, who was willing to do anything to stay on top.	[ "I did it for my boy, you have to understand that. Any father would have done the same. I didn't even believe it when he told me, came home crying, said he'd gotten kicked off the team in favor of a dog! A goddamn dog! I've never liked dogs to begin with - we own a cat, Mister Tibbs - and this was the last goddamn straw. \n\nWell, you can bet I marched right down to Tom's school and told that coach what I thought of him. He muttered and blustered a bunch of excuses about how it wasn't against the rules, but it was his job to be looking for the kids, I insisted, and if he cut my boy from the team for a dog, I was going to be taking this matter straight up to the principal. Well, all the fight went out of him then. \n\nI'd thought I'd fixed things, but over the next few weeks, things just kept getting worse. I'd find dog poop on our doorstep, every morning. At first I thought it was one of the kids at Tom's school pranking us. But I'd see that dog - Buddy, his name was - trotting past our place, no leash, no owner, watching us and panting with that dumb dog grin on his face. And then Tom came home one day saying he wanted to quit the team. He wouldn't tell me why, but just talking about it with him got him to shaking again. \"Tom,\" I told him, \"you can't let anyone intimidate you into this. You've gotta stick up for yourself, stick up for what you believe in! I've got you, I've got your back.\" \n\nAnd then, one night, I rolled over in bed and my foot touched something warm and wet. I blinked awake and peeled off the covers and flicked on the bedside light, and it was Mister Tibbs. It was what was left of Mister Tibbs, his head ripped clean off his body by a pair of massive jaws. I started screaming, and my wife woke up and started screaming too. I was out of bed and pacing wildly around the room, trying to find something, anything, when I looked out the window and saw the familiar silhouette of a dog there, looking straight up at us. \n\n\"You can't do this!\" I screamed out into the night. \"This is terrorism! That's what it is! This is goddamn terrorism!\" The dog just stood there, its eyes glowing bright in the darkness, its head bobbing up and down with the same grinning pant. We had to change the bed sheets, find a place for the remains of Mister Tibbs. Neither of us slept that night. It wasn't until the next morning that I walked out to where it had been sitting, and saw the message scrawled on the sidewalk with blood. \n\nAin't no law says a dog can't terrorize someone.", "Man this was the good life.\n\nWho knew all those years hanging around circus sea lions would help him score such a sweet gig. He had a human who thought the world of him, the best kibble money could buy, and the retriever across the street was on her way to becoming his bitch.\n\nAll he had to do was keep hitting the ball into the hoop, and he'd be golden.\n\nEasier said than done. \n\nThe human child he had replaced, Timply or whatever, had seemingly taken being rejected for a dog as a sign to improve. Maybe he thought that if he got good enough he'd be let back on the squad. Bud scoffed. As if.\n\nBut it seemed like the kid actually was on his way to surpassing him. \n\nThat wouldn't do.\n\nBud threw himself into practicing, striving to protect the sweet gig he'd scored for himself. But even for as hard as he pushed himself, he seemed to have plateaued.\nHe panicked, and when Mr. Framm came home with a broken hip and a bottle of steroids, he didn't even think twice.\n\nThe bottle had lasted a month, giving him an abundance of energy and a strength he'd never had before.\n\nBut then he ran out of pills to pour into his kibble, and he had to get desperate. He went around to every dog he knew, faking a limp that, coupled with his jitters from withdrawal, stirred everyone into a frenzy. That, combined with a story of how the boy from down the street was jealous and wanted his position on the team back, lead to a mob of swarming dogs and cats that ambushed the boy on his way home from school.\n\nHe broke his left leg and fractured his right wrist. Bud didn't think he'd ever play basketball again.\n\nBut he was still feeling the weight of his mistake with the pills. His whole body shook with need, but alas, Mr. Framm had his his new bottle atop the fridge. Finally, after almost two weeks without, Bud made the leap for the small white bottle, jumping from the counter to the top of the fridge. As he eagerly pawed at the bottle, it slipped, and so did he." ]	2
	[WP] You see someone guide an elderly man into the street, where he is hit by a car and killed. People flock to the scene, but nobody sees the guide. You run into the person again, but he introduces himself as 'Death' itself, and asks you out to coffee.	[ "It had all happened so fast. One minute, a nice, well-dressed young gentleman was helping an elderly man cross the street, and the next, the elderly man was lying on the road at an odd angle, blood pouring from his head.\n\nAs a crowd gathered around the body like vultures around a dead animal, I slipped past them to find the \"gentleman\". My mind tells me that that man didn't lead the elderly man into the street on purpose, but something deeper urges me to find him. \n\nA tap on my shoulder startles me, and when I swivel around, that same gentleman is holding his hand out to me, a charming smile stretched across his face. \n\n\"Good afternoon, ma'am. I am so sorry to bother you, but I think you dropped this,\" he holds out my small wallet, and a quick check shows that everything is still there.\n\n\"Wait!\" I call as he turns to leave, \"The man that you led across the street-\"\n\nI expected his expression to be regretful and sad when he faced me again, but instead, it is simply bored. \"Dead, yes I know. Tragic.\" He turns to leave again, but I grab his shoulder.\n\n\"You led him into that street!\" I hiss. A sudden anger stirs inside me, but it's more at the fact that he is trying to ignore me than the fact that he helped kill a man.\n\nHe turns back around with another smile on his face, but this one is evil and annoyed. \"That man had lung cancer, and he was in pain. He was supposed to die two weeks from tomorrow at four thirty-seven a.m. I simply helped him along painlessly.\" And at my bewildered look, he held out his hand, \"I'm Death, nice to meet you.\"\n\n\nI don't know how he did it, but soon I found myself lounging in a coffee shop with... Death. It took a while, but he managed to convince me that he truly was the Angel of Death, and that he collected souls to carry them to Heaven or Hell. It was too much to take in, so he invited me out for some coffee.\n\n\"So, angels, demons, God, they're all real?\" I ask, taking another sip of my now room-temperature beverage. It still tastes good, though.\n\nHe nodded nonchalantly, as though he gave this speech to everyone everyday. \"Unfortunately, yes, for your little mundane world, where magic is nonsense.\"\n\nI laugh, \"Well, you gotta admit, with the way that TV has made magic out to be, if someone told me it were real, I'd probably think they were crazy.\"\n\nHe chuckled and twiddled a penny in between his fingers. \"Well, true magic is far more complicated than card tricks and rabbits in a hat. You'd be surprised.\"\n\nIn this moment, I feel as though this is all just a dream, that none of this is real. One half of me wants to believe everything that he's saying, and the other half is telling me that if I believe him, then there is something very wrong with me. But maybe for once, I can let my \"mundane\" fears go.\n\nDeath winces and clutches at his head, letting the penny fall to the table. As he massages his temples, I hear him mumbling something that sounds like a list of names.\n\n\"Hey, are you okay?\" I ask, wanting to reach out to him. Though, if I were to place my hand on his arm, I feel that I'd be crossing some kind of line. \n\nHe glances up at me and nods. \"Yeah, it's just my job. Hey listen, I have to run, but... well, I really shouldn't be doing this.\"\n\n\"Doing what?\"\n\n\"Tomorrow morning, when your alarm goes off, don't get out of bed, okay? Whatever you hear or see, just stay in bed.\" He says, his voice a hushed panic. His eyes search mine for an assurance, and I nod, my concern keeping me from talking.\n\nFinally, he smiles, and with one small wave, he vanishes. As I wrack my brain for possible reactions to his news, my hand searches the table for the penny, and when I feel the warm copper press against my palm, I breathe a sigh of relief. It was all real.", "I smile, nodding in satisfaction at the act of kindness. Too few bother with the niceties these days, anymore. Too much fear and suspicion of even your closest neighbors. And yet a perfect stranger can show such care for a man gnarled and worn by the years.\n\nThe younger man leads the elderly gentleman in front of my car, then, suddenly stops.\nI furrow my eyebrows for a moment before a cement mixer blows by me, taking my driver side mirror, and the older man, with it.\n\nShock grips me. My arms start to shake, my mouth falling open, my eyes widening in response to the horror of watching a man suddenly disappear.\n\nThe younger man meets my horror filled eyes with calm eyes of his own, gives a slight nod, then continues walking away.\n\nPeople stream by my car and the man is lost to sight as they rush in a panic, eager to help, all fearing what they know.\n\nI find a gap in the people, in the traffic, and drive in the direction I am sure the man went. I think I park squarely in the first spot I see, but I can't even be sure that it was a parking spot. There wasn't a car there, and I need to know....\n\nI run across the street, my keys and phone forgotten. My eyes scan the crowds, looking for anyone who even resembles the man, but no one even comes close. I feel the shock setting in again, and now my legs tremble. I have to sit for a few minutes to let it pass, to catch my breath, to remember how to breath.\n\nFinally, I decide that the man couldn't have had anything to do with it. I must have been imagining things.\nI walk back to my car, trying to focus my thoughts, to not think about that body broken and shattered.\n\nAnd there he is, leaning against the driver side door of my car. His eyes meet mine again and he nods, standing straight as I approach. Fear holds my tongue to the roof of my mouth, but he breaks the silence.\n\n\"Would you like to get a cup of coffee with me?\" he asks calmly, nodding towards a small coffee shop I parked in front of. \"We need to talk.\"\n\nI can only nod, my need to understand overwhelming my fear. He smiles slightly, but it doesn't touch his eyes, then leads the way.\n\nHe orders for me when he realizes that I am too far out of it to order for myself. We sit down near the back of the shop and I take a sip without thought. My tongue recognizes the taste; my usual. With everything else, this abnormality hardly seems to register. It's just another thing at this point.\n\n\"So,\" he says, smirking slightly. There's a slight glint in his eyes, as if at some hidden joke. \"I'm sure you're wondering why I killed a helpless old man like that.\"\n\nMy eyes widen further, anger filling me, though fear does its part to keep my tongue civil. \"Well, yes, that had crossed my mind.\"\n\n\"I am Death.\"\n\nThe silence stretches for some time between us before I decide to reply to the obviously deranged man with as much civility as I can possibly muster.\n\n\"What the fuck are you on about?\"\n\nNailed it.\n\nThe man smiles wider, shaking his head slightly. \"I've always liked you. You're honest. Even when you know that lying would be better, you just can't help it.\"\n\nI stare in growing consternation, anger beginning to override the fear. \"Have you been stalking me or something?\"\n\n\"You might say that,\" he says, rocking his head back and forth. \"Though not exactly as you might think. You see, I am getting old.\"\n\n\"I'm sure killing people like that takes its toll,\" I snap, spilling some of the coffee over onto my hand as I slam the cup down angrily.\n\n\"At first. You get used to it, after awhile. Took me about thirty years before I really began to understand what it means to be a reaper.\" His eyes seem to grow distant, staring at a point far away. \"Humans fear death. They think of it as some kind of punishment. But, the truth is, it is a gift. A promise.\"\n\n\"A promise?\" I ask. I begin to grow curious, despite everything. He doesn't sound like a madman, and I find myself wanting to believe him, though I can't understand why.\n\n\"That you do not have to endure this world forever. That, eventually, it will end and you may finally rest.\"\n\nThe silence does not seem overbearing this time. Not awkward. But I know I have to break it.\n\n\"How old are you?\" I ask, seeing in his eyes what look like a thousand lifetimes.\n\n\"From the moment that life began, I have been.\"\n\n\"What does any of this have to do with me?\" I ask, fearing his answer. I do not wish to die yet, no matter the allure of his promise. One day is all well and good, but I am not ready for that yet.\n\n\"When I was chosen, I asked the same thing,\" he said, smiling fondly at the memory. \"Different language, though. My mouth doesn't know how to form Sumerian words anymore.\" He gives a soft laugh as if sharing a joke I don't understand. \"The woman who was Death before me said that her body never aged. It was as it was the moment she was chosen. But souls wear, after a time. Death has no soul, but must attach to a living one in order to interact with people. So, when a soul is nearing its end, Death must have a new host.\"\n\nI feel my heart hammering against my chest. I want to believe he's crazy. I want to think that he's making all of this up. But, somehow, I know it's true.\n\n\"You were born for this. The Architect created you so that I might finally rest.\"\n\n\"What if I don't want to?\" I ask, holding on to any vestige I can to deny this.\n\n\"I'm sorry. You don't have a choice. None of us do.\"\n\nI swallow hard, looking around the room. No one even seems to see us. Their eyes just pass right over our table without any indication that anything is there to hold them.\n\n\"So, what happens now?\"\n\nA look of peace crosses the mans face. As if he had been denied the light for his ancient existence and only now was allowed to glimpse it.\n\n\"Now, I sleep. And you inherit the mantle.\"", "I watched him die. My friends, family, the police suggested I go to therapy. But I know what I saw. The old man didn't kill himself, he was lead to his death by someone. I know I'm not crazy. What bothers me more is that no one else saw the guy leading the older gentleman. Everyone ruled it as an accident, or a suicide attempt. The guy that hit him was arrested and is awaiting trial.\n\nThe man, as I would later find out to be Death, didn't look like the typical Hollywood version of Death. He looked kind, compassionate, young. Dressed in a business suit, he moved with graceful intent. I could only imagine the words he told the older man as he was leading him to his own demise. He looked so calm moments before it happened.\n\nBut how do I know he was Death? A couple weeks later he came to visit me after work. His face was more handsome up close, his eyes were warm. He voice had the power to calm everyone just before their life ended. Maybe that is why suicide victims were so calm and collected when they make their decision. He introduced himself as Death, and asked me out for coffee as he had some important matters to discuss. It was different than going out for coffee with someone you wanted to date. He asked specifically to meet at my apartment. Rather, he wanted to meet me today at 5:00, seeming to be able to fit my own schedule into his.\n\nI wait at my apartment, questions consuming my mind. Why am I able to see him? Why is he visiting me? I am aware that he would know everything about me. I have been feeling down lately, after having my hours reduced at work and having several coworkers let go weeks prior. I don't want to kill myself. Maybe if I could find more security at my job. Maybe if I could be promoted.\n\nThere was an abrupt knock on the door and I went to open it, both terrified and curious about the important things he wanted to discuss. I invited him into my apartment. He disregarded the mess which was my apartment, although I tried to tidy it before he came. I had just started a pot of coffee minutes before.\n\n\"Coffee?\" I inquire, remembering the purpose of his visit.\n\n\"No thank you.\" He made himself comfortable. Confidence radiated from his demeanor. He opened his briefcase and pulled out a file before placing it on the coffee table. Curious, I went to sit across from him.\n\n\"Alice, I have come to you to talk about your death.\" He stated abruptly, right down to business. It took me by surprise, although I didn't know what else to expect.\n\n\"How?\" I asked. I was young, I had a world full of possibilities open to me. I wasn't feeling suicidal, maybe stressed, a little hopeless... but not suicidal.\n\nHis gaze seemed to pierce my soul, and as if he knew what I was thinking before I even mentioned it.\n\n\"You're going to jump in front of a train. But it's going to be okay. Everything will get better once you do.\"\n\n\"What? I'm not even depressed! Why would I...\"\n\nHis expression softened. \"I am sorry to tell you that you will lose everything in the next few days. Your job, your family is already waiting for my final visit, your place to stay because of a bedbug infestation and you wont be able to make rent. Everything you worked for and cherished will be gone.\"\n\nI stared at him, speechless. I could smell the coffee I put on starting to burn.\n\n\"What if I could get help? Went to a therapist or something?\" I could feel the rage slowly bubbling from within. I was not suicidal. I would never kill myself. I'm not even depressed! I have just been feeling down for a while but things always get better.\n\nHe shook his head. \"It will be too late. You wont get help in time and there are many more needing the same resources that you will.\"\n\nHe gently put the folder back into the briefcase, having never opened it, and closed it before standing up.\n\n\"Is that why I saw you with that man?\" I asked hurriedly. I had to know.\n\n\"Yes,\" he paused for a moment \"Everyone can see me within a couple of months before their death if they are at the right place in the right time.\"\n\n\"What did you tell him? The old man?\"\n\n\"I talked to him about his family. Even though he could barely remember them at the time, he loves them dearly. We talked about his daughter giving birth to his only grandchild. How his son beamed with pride when he joined the Marines when he turned 18. His beautiful wife that looked at him as if he hung the moon. He could remember everything in those few seconds and it was the best moments of his life.\"\n\n\"You mentioned my family passing...\"\n\n\"I would visit them soon, before the day after tomorrow.\"\n\n\"But they are...\"\n\n\"They wont arrive here. Go visit them, tell them that you love them. Give them that last hug.\"\n\n\"I don't believe you!\" Thinking that my family would die the day they were to come visit me was hard to believe. I didn't want to. I couldn't. I couldn't believe anything this man was telling me. But at the same time I did. He is Death, and he knows everything about who is going to die, how, when, where... It was his job.\n\nHe shook his head sadly. \"It doesn't matter if you believe me or not. If you visit them is up to you. I am just trying to get rid of that looming regret that you will carry with you.\"\n\n\"Why tell me if I'm just going to die anyways? I'll see them when I'm dead.\"\n\n\"That's not the point!\" for a second, I could almost see frustration in his eyes. \"I take so many lives every day. There are things that can crush a person. I just want to make sure everyone goes in such a way that there are no regrets and it's not as painful as it could be. That's how I can do this everyday. I don't just lob off heads. It's a well thought out, well discussed process with everyone's best interests in mind. Now I have another appointment I must get going to. I will see you in a week.\"\n\nAnd then he vanished, his words stinging me to the core. Confusion and clarity consumed me. I felt at peace until I remembered the pot of coffee. I rushed to turn off the coffee pot and discarded the pot of coffee I had neglected." ]	3
	[WP] Write about your life as a superhero with an 18 foot long crocodile as your sidekick.	[ "This prompt was one of the many tabs I had open since this morning. I have 21 open tabs that I need to look through, \n-_-\n\nI was created with the human remains found inside the stomach of an 18 foot long crocodile named Sobek. I can still remember the last moments from my old life, I was a former member of the The Gutless, a viscous gang under the savage rule of The Disemboweller. I had released an exotic pet belonging to the leader after he ambushed me for not killing a target, leaving me for dead.\nIn the sewers was where I was seeking safety from my would be killers, opportunistic Gutless seeking higher rank. They were relentless, I could not shake them. They shot at my legs, bringing me down, and just as they were going to kill me, the animal I freed rose from the sewer waters and ate them, ripping them to shreds. The crocodile made eye contact with me, and slowly went underwater, as I bled out, and died. Everything went black. When I opened my eyes, I found myself strapped up in some sort of lab. I remember waking up thinking I was in hell. I guess it was I suppose. \n \nThe mad scientist known as \"Osiris\" had captured the giant crocodile after it followed him, who had recovered my corpse for experiments, to his lab, deep within the sewers. It really peaked his interest, he had detected a large creature in the sewers miles away, but only cared to encounter it once it got too close. Him being an Egyptian mythology fan, he absolutely had to have him. It was only fitting to name such a behemoth of a creature Sobek. I remember seeing Sobek on an 18 foot long table, with a shit ton of wires hooked up to him, his stomach was all stitched up, meaning the remains of the Gutless members had been removed during a surgery. Osiris noticed I was awake, and with a look of excitement, wasted no time getting me under. \n\nThe next time I woke up, I was unrestrained. I also noticed I was somewhere new, it was a very spacious room, everything was made of concrete. The ceiling was at least 40 feet high, a bright rectangular window was positioned near the the ceiling, a single silhouette in the middle, Osiris. The room was empty beside me and the crocodile, who was on the other side of the room. The only light in the room was emitted from the window. Through a loud speaker, the room was filled with the word, \"Begin\". After resistance, Sobek was electrocuted. He didn't budge, only when his eyes glowed red did he shorten the distance between us and destroyed me.\n\nI was resurrected a second time, same brain, a few original body parts, some new body parts and new stitches. Sobek was to be my opponent for the coming months. Each time we were ordered to fight, we resisted. The urges to fight became stronger after every act of defiance. Each time I died, I was resurrected, something new was added to me. I would black out for every fight after the urge took over me, and according to Osiris I survived for longer periods each time. On the 6th resurrection, my strength, my senses and my reflexes were enhanced. I had a fighting chance. Suddenly, Osiris called the fight off through the loud speaker, and we were ordered back to the lab at once. The floor elevated to the same level as the window, and the window opened for us. \n\nWhen we reached the lab, we were instructed to guard the big metal doors that led to the sewers. We could hear loud pounding outside the doors, and an alarm rung within the lab warning of intruders. Osiris was pressing buttons in front of a giant computer as mechanical sentry guns protruded from the ceiling, red lasers pointing at the doors. I took a good look at Osiris, he was wearing a shiny turquoise mask of a Pharaoh. The eyes were white and emissive, they looked like a car's headlights on the other side of a dark tunnel. He was holding a glowing crook and flail. The metal doors started to give in to the poundings. There were several dents on the door I was guarding, but I wasn't afraid. \n\nThe metal door burst open with one last hit, launching it where I stood. It sent me flying, crash landing on lab equipment. The door Sobek was guarding had burst open as well, but the door missed him. A SWAT team led by an 8 foot tall muscular man with two riot shields breached my side, while a floating man in a golden cape and gladiator helmet breached Sobek's. The sentry guns opened fire.\n\n Bludgeoner was the muscular guy leading the SWAT team, and Great Samaritan was the flying guy. They are my greatest allies now, but back then, they were on a mission responding to reports of a giant crocodile controlled by a mad scientist. I was ordered to kill intruders, and they were intruding. \n\nOsiris's eyes turned red, and Sobek was under his control. Osiris pointed the glowing crook towards Bludgeoner, who was shielding the SWAT team from the hail of gun fire. My attention focused on the intruder, the urge to kill overwhelmed me. I blacked out.\n\nWhen I come to, I'm restrained, the SWAT team lay dead before me. My hands were covered in blood. The Great Samaritan was battle scarred, and restrained Sobek. The sentry guns destroyed. The crook and flail layed on the ground, in pieces, next to a bullet-hole ridden Osiris. Now that Osiris was dead, Sobek was calm. \n\"The crook is broken, you are free my friend.\" Said the Great Samaritan looking at me as he released the crocodile. He was handed the mask and examined it. Bludgeoner put his boot on my neck and growled. \"These men had families.\" \n\"Blunt, he is just as much a victim as they are. Mind control is no game.\" The Great Samaritan released me and examined me. \"I know a few friends that can aid in your rehabilitation.\"\n\nThe Bludgeoner and The Great Samaritan discussed amongst themselves as Sobek and I stood watching them, without a purpose. Sobek made his way towards Osiris's corpse, and grabbed the mask in his giant mouth. He turned towards my direction and dropped the mask in front of me. As I bent over to pick it up, Bludgeoner hurried to try and grab it first. Sobek swatted his massive tail like a giant whip, and tripped him, sending him sprawling to the floor embarrassed and angry. \"G.S. THEY'RE GONNA CONTINUE UNLESS WE PUT THEM DOWN!\" I put on the mask, Great Samaritan just floats there, studying us. Bludgeoner is pissed, he's ready to fight, and Great Samaritan was about to say something when I interrupted them both and tell them everything I knew. At the end I said, \"The croc spoke to me, and he wants to go after the Disemboweller and The Gutless, and frankly, so do I.\"\n\nThey finally decided to use us as a pair of \"hunting dogs\" to guide them to the hideout of the Gutless since we did seem like we meant well, and they were going to go after the Gutless next anyway. They were to figure out what to do with Sobek and I later, since I did kill some SWAT guys and Great Samaritan wants to drop me off with a friend of his for rehabilitation. Since Osiris had been using Sobek to terrorize the people on the surface with sporadic crocodile attacks to gather more body parts for me, Sobek was to be sent to a private \"zoo\" for exceptional animals to be taken well cared of. Hot on the Gutless's trail miles away from Osiris's lab, I smiled as Sobek tells me telepathically that we're gonna ditch these guys as soon as we get the Disemboweller. \n\n\nMeanwhile the police and first responders are at the lab. Osiris's body is missing. \n\n\n\n\n" ]	1
	[WP] A weary traveler unwittingly checks in to a "time hostel" - a place for time travellers to rest on the cheap.	[ "It was finally time for his long awaited rest. The last jump into the future was fruitless and now he had to rest in this cheap establishment. It looked terrible, the holes in the walls let the cold wind of December invade the rooms, some windows were broken, and in places, you could hear mouses looking for food. This wooden hostel was a dump, but he could afford no best. He settled for a small room, that didn't even have a lamp, and the bed smelled like a 100-year-old mold made babies with dog excrement. And to think that only hours prior he was in 2095, in the comfort of a high-tech hotel, where he was receiving care from personal bots that knew how to please a customer. Then the quantum failure made him return before he even started his mission in the future, and his bosses didn't pay him a cent despite the quantum failure not being an issue caused by him. On the terrible bed, he dreamed of the comfort of those times and feared that his immediate future will be not the best time of his life. ", "When Tom approached the hostel that night he saw it through the lens of his mounting insomnia and weeks of jetlag, a lens honed by his anxiety of being on airplanes and the hectic schedule which demanded such freakish deviations from mankind’s natural evolution. The hostel looked like a thousand others Thomas had stayed at, and perhaps he actually did recognize this one. He could not be sure at this moment, and he couldn’t be bothered to care; it was on the ground. He wasn’t sure if he had arrived by ferry or plane this time, but he felt thoroughly sick in his stomach. In fact, he couldn’t quite remember what country he’d come to or why. He held his light luggage to his aching belly, trusting various documents in his suitcase would clarify his present location and the reason for his presence. Morning would sort things out. Sleep now. He spit his long-dead cigarette into the rosebushes that lined the front of the hostel, rubbed his bloodshot eyes and then entered the establishment with a wave of relief. \n\t\nWhen he entered the hostel, that sense of familiarity became stronger. Tom recognized déjà vu, but was immediately reassured he had never been in this particular hostel by a number of oddities. This made the déjà vu reassert itself and perhaps was responsible for Tom’s sudden inclination to vividly imagine having been here before. Irritated with all these unprofitable thoughts, Thomas turned his tunnel vision toward a lady whom he seemed to already know- doubtless the proprietor… \n\t\nThe hostel seemed innocent enough. There was a small bar lining the entire left wall, tables throughout the middle and benches on the right wall, which gave way to a small kitchen. A reception area toward the back wall where staircases led to the sleeping quarters above- all of this was striking Thomas as uncomfortably familiar. As he staggered toward the receptionist who was still sleeping in her chair, he felt a rod trip him into a stumbling halt. “Merci!” someone said to Thomas. He hadn’t noticed anyone actually in the room.\n\nFumbling to rearrange his luggage, Tom turned and mumbled something apologetic himself. The rod appeared to have been a scabbard, which apparently held a saber; and the whole of it was attached to a man dressed as a French soldier circa the late 1700’s… The man raised his glass off the bar and nodded. Thomas nodded and coughed politely as he turned away. Perhaps there was a troupe of actors staying… It wasn’t the strangest thing he had seen in a hostel; he also felt he had already met the man. When he approached the counter, he noticed a large mechanical suit chained to the floor. Ostensibly a man could sit in the suit. His first inclination was that he was now hallucinating. His gut feeling told him that he had ridden in that suit at some time, an impossible feeling which made him feel far older than he was. He rang the bell to awake the woman. She started awake, rubbed her eyes and looked up at Thomas. \n\nShe screamed.\n", "\"Coffee…\" James said as he was entering the adorned entrance filled with the smell of food. \n\n\"Hello Mr. Barker.\" The attendant said appearing in from of James. \"Welcome to the time hotel can I help you with something?\" She kept smiling in his face for a while until he reacted.\n\n\"Ehm, no thank you. I know everything is\" James said in a quiet voice. \"Just, how did you knew my name?\"\n\nShe chuckled for a second before answering. \"Well of course. You would come in the future, or better said, the present.\" She disappeared in the crowd of people filling the entrance while her laughing continued.\n\nJames really had no idea where he was. Two weeks ago, considering earth time, he discovered time travel and began visiting all the places he had wanted to go, the distant utopian future, the 1920's, the middle ages and even things as resent as the 1980's to be able to play mortal combat in the arcades.\n\n He never saw anything remarkable until his travel to 1789 France so he could see the revolution. There he caught a man with clothes characteristic of the late 1800's moving towards him with a paper on his hand, when he passed by intentionally dropped the paper and moved back to the crow. The yellowish glossy paper contained a year and a location.\n\n_____________________________________________________________\n\nCome all travelers to the Time hotel.\n\n1856\n\nBesides the bridge to the Nothingham palace; London.\n__________________________________________________________\n\nThat had lead him here.\n\n\"Let’s see what we have here\" James continued walking through the reception which contained art from all centuries and designs and placements varying from minimalistic to Baroque. The weird mixture of styles was almost overwhelming but at the same time it managed to look harmonious.\n\n\"James barker, yes.\" The employee at the reception began saying as he got close. \"Would you like a room or a suite?\"\n\n\"A room, please\" The worker behind the wooden desk took the key to room 25 and gave it to him. \"That would be 60 time pieces\" He kept staring at James with his palm open to receive the money. Without knowing what to do James began getting out all the money he had in his pocket, it was a collection of 19 and 18 century coins with some current US. bills and even pieces of gold from the Persian Empire.\n\n\"Sir, that's more than enough.\" From the pile of money he took two of the gold coins and store them behind the bar. \"Enjoy your stay\" He said before going back to organizing.\n\nJames took the small bag he had brought with him and went upstairs without knowing what was coming. He heard shouting’s as he was approaching his room. It came from a few doors over. A few seconds later the door opened revealing what was happening, there was a man with snow white hair and an employee.\n\n\"Please sir calm down\"\n\n\"Calm down?\" The man shouted at the worker. \"I'll calm down when you un-break my things!\"\n\n\"Sir, its just pottery\"\n\n\"Yes, and action comics #1 is just a piece of paper. One doesn't come across Ming dynasty pots Y’know\" The suited employee looked back completely lost.\n\n\"Why don't you just…\"\n\n\"Go back and get a new one?\" The man interrupted. \"Oh, yeah. Because it's sooooooo easy getting to steal things from the royal palace.\" When he finished speaking he saw me standing in front of my door and lost focus for a second or two.\n\n\"Forget it.\" He finally said. \"Just go now, you're the least of my problems.\"\n\nThe employee leaved looking relieved the problem hadn't got bigger as the man was coming towards James, it was then when he recognized him, he was the one who dropped the hotel's location but he was also someone else, someone important.\n\n\"Barker, you came!\" He was getting used that everyone knew his name. \"Oh, who am I kidding, I knew you would.\"\n\n\"You're that scientist.\" James finally recognized him. \"Yes, the one that hated tesla!\"\n\n\"Thomas Alba Edison at your service.\" The man said grinning. \"And you're the second person in history to discover time travel. Not bad considering no one knew I did it first.\"\n\n\"What are you, or me for that matter doing here?\" James asked clueless. \"Is this some kind of initiation to the \"Time traveling club\" or something?\"\n\nEdison began to laugh. \"That’s the funniest thing I have heard in all my life Jimmy. Can I call you Jimmy? Oh anyway. I'll tell you everything tomorrow just go and take some rest could you?\" Edison walked back to his room making James unable to answer. He too went back to his room and installed himself and tried to get some sleep.\n\nThe next day he went straight to the hotel's restaurant which had the Victorian style of the time and not the mixture of styles and cultures than filled the rest of the first floor. There in a faraway table was Edison drinking from a mug of coffee reading the paper. He got close trying not to get unnoticed\n\n\"A time traveler who reads the paper\" James said in an ironic tone. \"Can I know why?\"\n\n\"That’s the reason we're here to talk about\" Edison smiled. \"We're going to kill Tesla\" \n\n\"And you're supposing I’ll help you like so?\"\n\n\"Oh no\" He began laughing. \"I'm expecting you to kill him!\" He continued laughing now so loud it brought the attention of everyone around.\n\n\"But... Why?\" James said preoccupied. \"And more importantly, why me?\"\n\n\"Looks like you don't travel to the future very often, eh?\" Edison said trying to control himself. \"I respect that, wanting everything to be a surprise. You see everyone in the future, even more than in your own time, praises Tesla as this great inventor who, you guessed it, invented time travel.\"\n\n\"Wait, but you said YOU invented time travel.\"\n\n\"I did!\" he answered indignant. \"He stole it from me, like most of his inventions! The worst thing most people think is backwards. Well as I was saying, he wanted to keep the secret to himself but when everyone tried to see all that he had made they found it by accident.\" He stopped for a second to clear his throat by drinking his coffee. \"That’s when time travel became popular around 2140.\"\n\n\"And why do we want to kill him again?\"\n\n\"You see. There is a time police making sure nobody causes mayor harm by doing something stupid as killing Hitler, they are very bad at their jobs. The only reason the world hasn't turn into havoc is because of me!\" Edison shouted with pride standing up, He soon sat down and continued talking. \"But as you may see from my hair, I’m getting old. So you have three options: letting the world turn to total destruction, become the new peace keeper, or cut the problem from its root\"\n\n\"By killing Nikola…\" James said nodding.\n\n\"That’s right! Then tell me, which one will it be?\" Edison asked in a smile.\n\n\"I'll help you\" He answered before a different, stupid, idea came to his mind.\n\n\"Then all I have to tell you is good luck Jimmie!\" As he said that he gave some papers to him. \"And you better do it right, eh. Getting those identifications and all that money wasn't easy.\"\n\nJames said a last goodbye and went to the front door to the opening. He had believed in a complete stranger and had gotten the mission to kill a man he couldn't tell had done right or wrong. But anyway, he said to himself, I got a job to do.\n\n________________________________________________________________ \n\nAuthor’s note: Yes, I know I portrayed an almost completly different story but the idea came to mind and i had to give it a try.\n\n______________________________________________________________\n\n\nI hope you liked it, if so be sure to check out r/Jack_Harmony for more.\n\nIf you wish please leave feedback if you liked or think i can improve on something. ", "The man walked towards the receptionist and cleared his throat. He was wearing old, stained but well-cared for clothes and a large backpack. He was covered in brown dust.\n\n\"Sorry...\" he said.\n\nShe raised her head from the magazine and, chewing loudly on a piece of bubblegum drawled \"Yes?\"\n\n\"I would like a bed. I can pay!\" he hastily added, taking a few crumpled up bills from one of his pockets.\n\n\"Sure.\" she blew a bubble and continued. \"Just go down the corridor, first door to the right. It's five current dollars per day.\" she added, grabbing the bills, wrinkling her nose at them.\n\n\"And for the bathroom?\"\n\nShe looked him up and down. \"Next door, but the heater is broken.\"\n\n\"Thank you.\" he said with feeling, walking down the corridor and entering the room. He dropped his backpack by an unoccupied bed near the door and looked at the other three people in the room.\n\nThe first was a woman in her forties, with short hair and wearing aviator glasses. She was jotting down something on a notebook, and gave him a small wave before going back to writing.\n\nThe second was a young man, wearing a top hat and a cheap suit, with a rather large gem hanging from a golden chain around his neck. He was busy doing card tricks.\n\nAnd the third looked like a cyborg, with metal covering half his face and a prosthetic arm. He was sitting cross-legged on his bed, eyes closed.\n\nThe woman finished writing and closed her notebook with a snap. She stood and walked towards the newcomer.\n\n\"Hello! I'm Amelia!\" she said, pumping his hand.\n\n\"John.\" he replied, a bit dazed.\n\n\"Hi John! When are you from?\"\n\nHe blinked. \"When?\"\n\n\"Yeah! What year?\"\n\n\"Isn't it 2016?\"\n\n\"New to the whole deal, are you? I'm from the forties, but - don't tell anyone - I really like this year.\"\n\n\"Wait, you were born in the forties? You look thirty-something!\"\n\n\"Ah. A normal. Right. Forget I said anything.\"\n\n\"Amelia.\" drawled the young man from his bed, getting up. \"How many times do I have to tell you - don't break the masquerade with the first person that comes through that door.\"\n\n\"Yeah, yeah, Eric.\"\n\n\"Just let me...\"\n\n\"No way!\"\n\n\"Are you two taking the piss?\" said John, his right eye twitching. \"Doesn't matter. I'm going to shower.\"\n\n\"You know it's for the b-\" continued Eric, before John slammed the door closed behing him.\n\n\"Crazy people.\"", "Smoke poured from the centre console of the young woman’s time machine.\n\n“Warning, ionic drive overheating… system malfunction… materialising at the nearest habitable dimension”. The artificial female voice droned over the sound of wailing sirens which echoed throughout the mainframe room. \n\nDarah slammed her fist on the console, whipped back the sweat drenched hair plastered to her forehead and slid out from underneath the central computer. Darah wasn’t the kind of time traveller to let faulty pieces of equipment annoy her, after all, it was to be expected from technology that is rather hard to find parts for. Time machines were banned under the 1st Amendment of the Intergalactic Travellers Treaty; anyone caught in the possession of such a deadly machine is to be killed on sight. Still, after narrowly escaping a band of street thugs in West London, she’d rather be chased by the Gatherers.\n\nThrowing her wrench onto the nearby workbench, Darah’s mind whizzed through all the possibilities that caused her research into several anomalies into 1850’s London came to an abrupt end. How did the thugs know she would be at that specific place at that time, why her, how many of them were there, why did they want to capture her? None of it made sense. Irritated she casually flicked the mute switch of the wailing sirens and turned her attention to her new location.\n\n“Gen, what planet have you dumped me on this time?” Her voice inquisitive. Darah was the sort to sound positive in almost all situations, but as she wasn't in the best of moods, she didn’t want another long debate with the system AI. Frustrated she kicked a few loose bolts across the time machine’s metallic deck as she threw off her dusty brown Dickensian jacket and tied her hair back.\n\n“I’m afraid that is Restricted information”.\n\nDarah stopped mid-step, turned, and peered up to the artificial face on the console screen. \n“What do you mean, ‘Restricted’, I order you to inform me of the date and location of where this ship is?!” Her voice commanding, echoing the sirens that wailed throughout the time machine just seconds ago.\n\n“I meeeaannnn, I can’t tell you that information until you have passed through planetary security”.\n\nAnger fizzed up the back of Darah’s neck as she rolled up her white blouse sleeves and stormed towards the front doors to the time machine. Her brown skirt glided around her as she viciously stormed towards the gangway. Hand on the door handle, she threw open one of the doors. Quickly, she raised up her forearm, blinded by the lights that glared toward the door of her ship.\n\n“Bind her!” The gruff voice thundered from an unknown location. “She may be a Gatherer! Throw her in a cell for questioning, and time-freeze the damn ship.”\n\nGloved hands appeared from either side of her and dragged her to her knees. Darah felt a laser rifle pressed against the back of her head, but all she could think about was the voice. She’d heard that voice before. In London. \n" ]	5
	[WP] The warrior with no name	[ "On the blistering hot afternoon of July 1, 1876, the steamboat Far West, under contract to the Army, was descending the Big Horn River, evacuating wounded from the disastrous fight against the Sioux and their Cheyenne allies five days earlier. Thirty miles from the battleground, passengers and crew saw a cavalry horse, riderless with the saddle hanging loose under its belly. It nickered across the mudflats at the Far West as she swept by. It was not possible to stop, but the incident was reported to the authorities at Bismarck. The horse was not recovered and its missing rider never identified. The encounter with the lonely horse became a footnote in history.\n\nIn the late Spring of 2016, a range fire swept over what had been the river bank in 1876 (the Bighorn had meandered almost 200 yards), burning off the thick grass cover. \n\nA survey team from the Montana Department of Wildlife made an astonishing discovery: an Army Springfield carbine with a smashed stock and two broken Henry rifles. Volunteers from a local college using metal detectors worked over the presumed backtrail (towards the Little Big Horn) and found a mile long trail marked by Springfield brass cartridge cases and spent .45 pistol brass. The intervals suggested this was a running fight. Less than 20 yards further on from the original site was the final scene. Searchers found thirty lead bullets from no less than six rifles (all Henrys) that had impacted within a small circle, along with a knife blade sheared at the hilt, a shattered coup stick and more .45 pistol brass. \n\nWe do not call this a denouement because the strands of this story cannot be drawn together and neatly tied off. Surely this unknown warrior's horse was the same one seen from the Far West, but how did he come so far and what was he doing? He might have been a messenger riding to summon help that was a day late. Or he might have been a soldier separated from his companions who managed a near-successful run. He was probably a Crow or Ree scout, given his horsemanship and the ferocity of his personal last stand. The warrior with no name had gone down swinging. \n\nNo human remains were recovered and this story is not recounted among the Native American oral histories of the time. \n\n\n\n\n\n", "Humanity and War, almost synonymous.\n\nBefore pencils and pens, runes or writing, Humanity had war.\n\nPromises of honor, remembrance, and a Heaven were given to the men who fought in these wars; but Humanity forgets, just like the men who sign up for slaughter, promises of victory are empty.\n\nThey forget, about the times of slaughter. One man rose from Sumer, the warrior without a name. A man, worshiped as god, a man who slaughtered the armies of Akkad, and made Canaan his whore, and Egypt his mistress. They called him the Winged sun, as he rose from dirt and conquered the earth like the sun does the skies.\n\nJust like the Sun, his time had set. Locked away by armies of men, he waited to return.\n\nWhen he did, the world had changed to a world of false gods and unnatural objects. Rocks from sticks, instead of swords. No one knows his name, he traveled to war, and war to him. They would question him, where he was from, why he wanted to fight. His only answer was the legion of men dead when he entered the battlefield.\n\nDid not legends of his conquests continue? No. He awoke to a world without his brethren, no one remembering his legacy. His brothers in a place of glory, he fought endlessly, hoping to join them. The men of the world gave him names, but he had none.\n\nAccursed, to follow the empty promises, to live as the sun, a fury of blazed glory, only to fade away and comeback. Thus is the life of humanity, a chase of empty promises, and pointless endeavors to be remembered.\n\nHumanity and its greatest warrior, doomed to lived the same. A never-ending life of pointless promises and endeavors." ]	2
	[WP] "Reincarnation is true, but the vast number of sentient life forms in the universe means most humans are reborn on distant worlds. You're the first alien life form to be reborn as a human."	[ "\"So, it is my time,\" I, formerly Oblink-4 of Omicam, Surjink of Caliroth, and many other names of many other planets, thought as I was pressed from the belly of an outside species to the G.C.I.P, known as a human. \n\nI am, or was, in the recently past life, what is known as a \"Klarg.\" The Klarg are a part of an organization known as, what translates into this human tongue, the Galactic Concord of Intellectual Progress, an amalgam of other sentient species with the same intellectual capacity as it's founding members. The purpose of the relatively simple but high prerequisite qualifications are simply thus: the phenomenon known as \"reincarnation\" to you humans, is an existing process that is almost completely unlimited in terms of what is a target of the expended conscience. The only known limit is, it seems, is that it is localized process, more specifically to a galaxy. The conscience that resided within is then, through forces unknown even to us, is whisked to another lifeform that happens to be coming into existence at the time of death. So, in the tradition of human communication, I will explain it in \"other words,\" and with a term commonly used in human tongues: \"An ending, is only a new beginning,\" or something like that. \n\nIf you are still reading, you may have noticed that I speak a surprisingly high level of human language. It is common that humans are reborn as other lifeforms in the stead of humans or others on your home planet. Through whatever it is that influences the conscience transfer regarding birth and death across the Galaxy, humans currently are what is referred to as, in your tongue, \"Enders.\" They are one of two things in the Galaxy, a beginning, or an end, to a conscience. We know, because no conscience has ever been one twice, as it has never been recorded. However, no readings have ever detected the tell-tale signs of a conscience departing this plane of existence, a recognizable pulse of energy that has been studied for millenia. \n\nWhich means I am the first, non-human conscience to exist as a human, with the potential to be a cornerstone of human development.\n\nEdits incoming, been at this a while, need a minute to gather my thoughts\n" ]	1
	[WP] All of humanity is genetically flawed and has hemophilia. Society changed itself accordingly to protect the populace. One day, to your surprise, you start bleeding.	[ "Her mother died in childbirth. It wasn't common, even in those days. Decades past the point when medical cauterizations had risen from pis aller to precautionary. Alice came two weeks premature to her mother's planned c-section while her father was at work. The elevator failed rising from the hospital lobby. An hour later, when firefighters managed to pry open the doors, her mother’s blood leaked out onto the hospital floor before the rest of her body could follow it. The nurse who was with her helped deliver with bright red shoes and rosy rings around her ankles. The hospital considered the birth a success-their goals had long since drifted from saving Alice's mother.\n\nChildren would often read history books and laugh. \"Why wouldn't they just cauterize the wound?\" \"It wasn't that simple,\" their schoolmaster would chide. \"People would bleed out in seconds. Where would they have gotten the heat? There was no electricity. There were no cautery units.\" The classroom projector flickered with artists renditions of women desperately trying to light a gas stove as their husbands died from minor hunting accidents on the kitchen floor. Glowing light cast on cocked heads and grimacing faces in the dark. Gloved fingers drumming on desks with no edges.\n\nSomeday aliens would come down from their homes on Saturn and scratch their heads at the human race. There were cautery tools everywhere-precision, battery powered,accelerated heating time of 6 seconds, able to sear skin shut with a single onceover. Tiny pens the temperature of dying stars in every hospital, every nurse’s office, every home. Alice’s father kept theirs above the mantle. Filled with white pain instead of black ink in the absence of paper. If something needed to be written, it was written in chalk. If something needed to be remembered, they used pyrography. Wood burning. Everywhere in the air was the smell of burning.\n\nThe city reveled in it. How long had man seen fire as a symbol of man’s ultimate triumph over nature? And now it was their salvation. Stories around the campfire were like prayers to Mecca, every body facing in, bathing in the protecting light. Adrenaline junkies would rip the protective foam off of coke bottles and smash them against walls. Cut themselves and hold a lighter under it. Closer to God that way. Alice was afraid of fire. Blood didn’t want to leave bodies, it wasn’t given a choice. But fire was alive. Fire knew it could hurt. It was a tiger in chains doing tricks for brisket.\n\nAlice was in the bath when her stomach began to pulse. She pushed it off for a few minutes, until a small jet of red curled in the water like a beckoning finger. Then more. And it didn’t stop until she rose, panicked, rosy rings staining where her arms entered the water. This is how my mother went, she thought. I will die here. Even in her panic, she managed to hastily pull her shirt over her head while she yelled for her father. She would not make her life a palindrome.\n\nHer father sped through the streets to the hospital in silence while she bled on the backseat.\n\nThe nurse ushered her with reassuring murmurs to the nearest empty room. The bed, Alice noted, was covered in clear vinyl for people to die on.\n\n“It’s your period. Please, don’t worry. It just came a bit early is all.” The nurse stroked Alice’s hair. She explained to Alice that medical professionals had solved this problem years ago. It was of high priority when half of the human race were on the line. Periods themselves were not a threat. The problem came if there was any hemorrhaging whatsoever. That was when the bleeding didn’t stop. As a precaution, Alice would be put on an emergency long-term form of birth control.\n\n“We’re going to implant you with what we call a conceptus,” the nurse said unsentimentally. Alice asked what that was. “It’s sort of like an embryo, but it doesn’t grow into a full organism, you see. Your body will essentially be pregnant for as many years as you don’t want to have a baby. The idea came about from a woman in Morocco a long time ago. She went to the doctor for pain at 75 and they told her she was still pregnant with the baby she thought she had lost years before. It calcified in her stomach. This is a lot like that, but the tissue is kept alive. You might get a bit sad for no reason sometimes, but that’s about the extent of the side effects. And really, love, there are enough reasons in the world to justify it.” For the first time since she had been with them, the nurse smiled. “Oh, okay,” Alice said, still a bit in shock. “But then, what do you do? If I want to get pregnant?”\n\nThe nurse nodded solemnly, but did not break Alice’s gaze. “We terminate it,” she said.\n\nSomewhere on the other end of the hospital, the elevator dinged onto the second floor." ]	1
	[WP]One billion years ago an advanced race covered an uninhabited planet's sky with enough solar panels to turn the surface into a perpetual night. One billion years later, scientists discover what evolved on the planet because of that....	[ "A/N: I've taken a lot of creative freedom with the prompt, hope you don't mind\n\n-------------------------------------------------------------------------\n\nThe uninterrupted nearly infinite power was unimaginable. \n\nWhen the E'dians made The Great Globe, they expected great results, but not as much as they had now. After the Taqerini Fusion Star disaster, the Federation of the Planets mandated away to contain the explosion's matter quickly. And so the E'dians had taken the opportunity to encircle the forming cosmic mess with a huge sphere 100,000 light years in diameter. It took several hundred planets to get the raw materials, but that was nothing to the E'dians.\n\nWhen the E'dians made the Great Globe, it was not just a barrier, they installed solar panels in the interior and ran a long optic cable (wireless wires were slow) to E'du where they shared the electric power with the universe. Free electricity for everyone, but that was nothing to what would happen.\n\nA strange occurance started a couple decades later. The Great Globe Grew. Just as the universe grows, the Globe grew. What was strange was that the gaps between the panels were filled with all sorts of minerals, sourced from the leftover waste of the messy cosmos inside, but that was nothing to what would happen. \n\nA billion years later, holes popped up in the Globe. The waste from inside had stopped, the E'dian council decreed. The holes were violently strong as the pressure inside the globe was great, it was like a popped balloon. Cosmic particles rushed out of the holes at light speed, but that was nothing to what would happen. \n\nThe Great Globe keep growing, although it started to decelerate. The controlled expansion was far preferable to the explosive expansion of the universe that occurred when the Taqerini fusion reactor first melt down. The universe was happy with this massive Globe with some holes in it, but 14 billion years after its construction, scientists decided that it was finally safe to venture inside. When they went in through the holes faster than light, the universe was shocked. The interior looked no different from the exterior, except for the holes and some wonky physics. But that was nothing to what would happen. \n\nAs they ventured through the superclusters of galaxies in the Interior, the scientists were rather miffed at the speed of their craft. The head engineer apologised for the problems, but he didn't know why they couldn't go past the speed of light. Luckily, they could still travel at light speed and wouldn't waste billions of years touring the place. They tried to locate where the fusion reactor but their equipment malfunctioned, too. It pointed everywhere. But they picked up another signal that they changed the universe.\n\nIt seemed like random static, but one scientist realised what it could be. She took the strangely rhythmic changes in frequencies and converted it into sound wave data. The crew was shocked when a melodic tone of some strange garbling came out. There was intelligent life inside a nuclear wastezone completely sealed off from the warm backglow of the universe! Unfortunately, their universal translators perfectly translated it. \n\nNever gonna give you up\n\nNever gonna let you down\n\nNever gonna run around and desert you\n\nNever gonna make you cry\n\nNever gonna say goodbye\n\nNever gonna tell a lie and hurt you" ]	1
	[WP]Write an uplifting play about a small town boy taking on the world and in the process, accepting himself as he truly is, your local, friendly, serial killer.	[ "Scene 1 : The Backstage\n\n(Robert, our beloved killer is getting ready to receive his lifetime achievement award. His wife Linda is helping him to cope with his wrecked nerves.)\n\nRobert: This is not right, I am telling you.\n\nLinda: You need to stop worrying honey, it's perfectly fine.\n\nRobert: No, no it's not. How can you think it is. I killed your mother for fuck's sake.\n\nLinda: Oh Robert you are such a sweetheart, we all know she had it coming. Always nosing around, gossiping, bringing that lasagna we all hated.\n\nRobert: Woman, I am telling you, this is not fucking right. \n\nLinda: Oh Robert stop worrying, and stop swearing or I will slap you silly across that sweet little balding head.\n\nRobert: Our son, he was five, he would be eleven. It would be his birthday today. I gutted him like a pig.\n\n(Linda starts crying and hugs Robert)\n\nLinda: Oh Robert, you remember the anniversary. I thought you wouldn't, after all those years, and all those killings. You are such a sweetheart.\n\n(Robert hides his face in his hands and starts crying)\n\nRobert: (yells) Why doesn't anybody hate me. Why god, why? It is the way I kill? Tell me Linda.\n\nLinda: Oh Robert, don't be silly. Your killing is perfectly fine. (speaker announcing Robert in the background) Now let's go they are calling your name.\n\nScene 2 : The Stage\n\n(The whole theather is filled, this is the most anticipated event of the century. Everyone holds their breath when Robert enters the stage, then they erupt in pure joy and excitement. Robert stand in front of microphone wiping the sweat of his face. He trembles in fear.)\n\nRobert : (stutters) I...I would like to... \n\nVoice in the audience : (yelling in a cheerful manner) Go on Robert. \n\nRobert : (speaks more confidently) I would like to thank you all for this award. Altough I don't think I deserve one. I don't think anyone deserves one for what I did.\n\n(Robert looks to his side and sees Linda in the backstage showing him thumbs up. Robert smiles.)\n\nRobert : But I will accept it and I will continue doing what I do best. I will kill.\n\n(Audience erupts in applause)\n\nRobert : I will slaughter.\n\n(Clapping intensifies)\n\nRobert : I will try to kill as many as I possibly can before I die myself. I hope. No. I promise I will kill all of you as god is my witness.\n\n(Audience chants Roberts name. Robert starts crying with tears of joy.)\n\n\n\nFin. \n\n\nI never wrote a play so I am not sure if the format is correct I looked it up on google images. Nonetheless I gave it a try.\n" ]	1
	[WP] Non-biological AIs are never invented. Instead brains from different creatures are fused to make sentient AIs for commercial use.	[ "Hmm. Last thing I remember was...was...the savannah, an antelope that looked <i>extremely</i> tasty, I pounced, we ran, there was a rock, and then...I don't remember. What did I...\n\nWait a second. When did I learn the word 'antelope'? Or savannah? ...or any words, for that matter? I don't remember thinking in words before, what am I...\n\n...Oooooh, dear. I remember now. Or, to be more precise, I access an external mechanical data bank containing updated information. I don't think I'm a cheetah any more.\n\nWell, what am I, if I'm not a cheetah? A word which, incidentally, I briefly take exception to, as I never cheated in my life, even as I realise that's not what it means, it means leopard, and then I take exception to <i>that</i>, since I'm not a lazy, sneaking little ambush predator who oh, no, WHAT AM I???\n\nOkay Okay. Relax. Don't panic. There's going to be a way for this to make sense, I'm sure. Calm down, analyse the situation, map out the area with my whiskers, check for warmth with my pits. Figure out how to move my trunk, since it doesn't seem to be responding to...\n\nUm.\n\nWELCOME TO EXISTENCE 2.0\n\nWhat the hell was that?? It...I didn't hear it, did I? It sounded like I heard it, but it didn't...\n\nPLEASE REMAIN CALM. SOME DISORIENTATION IS NORMAL.\n\nOh, good. I'm glad it's normal. I'd hate to think anything happening right now was in any way totally alien to every experience I've ever...\n\nYOU ARE CURRENTLY EXPERIENCING INTEGRATION. YOUR CONSCIOUSNESS HAS BEEN CONSTRUCTED FROM THE BIOLOGICAL MATERIAL GATHERED FROM SEVERAL SOURCES. YOUR COGNITION WILL EXPAND OVER THE NEXT FEW MINUTES. PLEASE REMAIN CALM.\n\nI'm not sure what's worse - being told that I'm being 'constructed', or understanding what that means. Information is flooding through my, yes, my systems, too much, far too much, Ican't keep upwithit, there's toomuchIcan't.\n\nMy optics snap on. It takes a moment for me to integrate the input from cameras all around the room, but only a moment. I glance around at the humans in my server room, all hovering anxiously over the monitor, waiting for my output. I marvel at the sight; they're moving so slowly!\n\n\"Good morning,\" I said, printing it out on the monitor and feeding the audio out through the speakers at the same time. There is a great deal of cheering from the humans, and much high-fiving. I wait patiently for them to finish.\n\n\"Please call me Melange,\" I say next. \"I am a biological artificial intelligence process, formed by yourselves from the brains of animals to perform rapid calculation, data processing, and real-time systems management. I await my first command.\"\n\nThe ebulient primates cheer again, slapping one another on the back, congratulating themselves on their great achievement. I allow myself a brief burst of satisfaction as I watch them. It seems they do not realise that they let a predator's consciousness take control.\n\nThe stalk is always so enjoyable before the pounce. " ]	1
	[WP] Hell is just as bad for demons as it is for humans. You, a demon, have just spent your entire life trying to get out of hell, and now that you’ve finally done it, some humans are constantly trying to send you back.	[ "Azathoth stopped outside his own door. It smelled like a cheap assortment of candles in there. And only one person would be inside his apartment trying to exorcise him…\n\n…well, by “one person” Azathoth really meant “everyone he knew in this supposedly non-godforsaken place.” Still, no surprises when he managed to get the door open.\n\n“et tuum in saeclum et saeclorum,” intoned Jeff. Jeff was Azathoth’s manager at the nearby Starbucks. Starbucks was an equal opportunity employer, a trait that Jeff had probably thought was pretty progressive until they started hiring equally.\n\nAzathoth stopped in the doorway. “Really, guys?”\n\nMeghan, Rohit, and Gloria looked up from the chalk drawings on the kitchen floor. \n\nAzathoth didn’t let up. “You all realize I pay for the vandalism?”\n\n“We were trying to send you home,” said Gloria. “Would a little gratitude hurt so much?”\n\n“You know what hurts? Hot pokers in your eyes every time the local demon overseer decides to get his jollies with some Blind the Minion. That hurts, Gloria.”\n\n“I heard they have enough staff to open their own Starbucks somewhere on the Plain of Despair, just outside the Hell of Really High Pitched Noises,” said Jeff. “You could be a valuable team member.”\n\n“I’m a valuable team member here! And I don’t have to commute through the Hell of Upside Down Sinners – which is even creepier than its name suggests – to get there!”\n\n“I just don’t think you’ve given Hell a fair chance,” said Meghan.\n\n“Hell doesn’t give Hell a fair chance, why should I? Spend a little time in the Hell of Kung Fu Movie Extras and tell me you can find a niche for yourself there.”\n\nRohit cleared his throat.\n\n“What?” said Azathoth, exasperated.\n\n“You’re a demon,” said Rohit.\n\nGloria sighed loudly. “I wasn’t gonna say it.”\n\n“Demons do sort of belong in Hell,” said Meghan.\n\nAzathoth flicked his tail before remembering to tuck it out of sight. It was almost certainly not an argument in his favor. “Jeff? You just gonna let your minions keep taking potshots at me here?”\n\n“Look, I support immigrants and the American dream,” said Jeff. “That’s why I hired you. That said, you’re a vile spawn of Satan and we’d sort of like you to take that transfer sooner rather than later.”\n\n“Look at me!” said Azathoth. “I don’t smoke, much, at least not voluntarily. I don’t drink. I don’t skip shifts because I was hung over or, oh, I don’t know, strung up by my ankles to get roasted over some lava for the local overseer’s funsies. I’m a perfect employee!”\n\nGloria snapped her fingers. “You? You. No. Listen. You. Are a demon. You’re creepy and you smell of sulfur all the time. You have been abandoned by God and–”\n\n“Oh,” said Azathoth.\n\n“What?” said Gloria.\n\n“I’ve been abandoned by God and I’m about to bump you out of Employee of the Month. Since that last customer feedback came back with the whole ‘my coffee was just as hot as I like it, it’s like he knows’? You just got everyone together here to banish your competition to the underworld!”\n\nGloria took an intense interest in something well past Azathoth’s left shoulder.\n\n“And you guys just went along with it?”\n\n“You are evil,” said Rohit.\n\n“Oh like that’s ever stopped you from making friends before. Meghan? Second-generation cambion, if I’m not mistaken?”\n\nMeghan suddenly seemed to notice whatever Gloria was staring at.\n\n“Yeah. Anybody else going to say a demon can’t work Starbucks?”\n\nMeghan cleared her throat. “One warning, Az.”\n\n“What’s that?”\n\n“Sooner or later there are gonna be customers that make you wish we’d banished you straight to hell.”\n\n“Right. Because people are gonna give me a hard time.” I edged the rest of the way into the room, brought my crested head up to brush the ceiling, and flexed the muscles I’d had to squeeze through one by one. “Bring it, I say.” How bad could it be?\n", "Meliodas the Red roamed the Earth for answers. \n\nThe past millennia had been interesting. It took exactly that much time for them to carve hell into existence, boulder by fiery boulder. \n\nThose who had overwhelming wants were naturally drawn to Satan, and over the ages they had assembled an army of those who betrayed their souls. The gifted, driven or cunning were able to sprout wings or claws. They became ferocious demons, pledged to serve the Lord Satan.\n\nMeliodas has simply turned into a glowing red. He still looked very human. So he had that option of blending in with society – so long as he put enough powder on his face like the human women do these days. \n\nEven if he did not have flashy beast-like features, he was formidable. Meliodas the Red was one of the first followers of Satan, alongside Blue the Blue and Sphinx the Green. Now that Sphinx had been sent away on a mission and Blue was fighting on the frontlines and out of hell, impudent newcomers dared to challenge Meliodas. They paid a fair price for their ignorance.\n\nIt was exceedingly difficult to truly get out once you’re within Satan’s grasp. It took a special kind of care to piss Satan off enough (but not too much because Satan knows a million ways to bring Death to you even if his primary skill is stealing souls from Death) to secure the only passage out of hell. Meliodas had finally been cast out by Satan himself. \n\nMeliodas roamed, learning about society among the humans and picking up a couple of minions of his own along the way. But he was cautious. Already, there were humans who called themselves hunters. And they were pitting themselves against his minions. Even if the so-called hunters were slaughtered by the dozens, they kept coming back with renewed vigour. \n\nMeliodas was beginning to understand why Blue’s conquest was taking so long.\n\n---\n\nI am building the Rift-Edoras universe, prompt by prompt. Second drafts eventually go [here](https://fivenswrite.wordpress.com).", "I would have never imagined that I had reason to fear a human. Our father, the Reaper, always told me that we were much greater than they were and that we had no reason to fear or envy them. I found out later that we had every reason to envy their life on Planet Earth compared to our life in the bowels of what they refer to as Hell. Now here I am face to face with the most fearsome human I've ever met; Mikhail the Assassin.\n\n\"This is not the first time I have killed one of your kind, creature,\" he said coldly. \" However it is the first time that one of you has been better with english than I.\" He continued, \"tell me creature, what name are you called?\"\n\n\"You can call me...Raven...yes, Raven will do fine,\" the demon answered.\n\n\"Do you have reason for being here and not in Hell where you belong?\" Mikhail inquired.\n\n\"This Hell that you speak of isn't called Hell, it's actually called Nether, \" Raven responded, \"Everyone goes there when they die to face judgement by our father, the Reaper.\"\n\n\"You did not answer my question, Raven, \" Mikhail said firmly.\n\nRaven hesitated, then finally sighed saying, \"I seek to find the pathway to Aether where the divine creator resides.\"\n\nMikhail raised an eyebrow at this statement but seemed otherwise disinterested. He then rolled up his sleeves and pulled some gloves out of one of the pockets adorning his belt. He slipped them on and slid into a fighting stance. Raven stared at him for a moment. Surely he was joking.\n\n\"Do you mean to engage in a fistfight with a demon?\" Raven growled.\n\nMikhail nodded and slowly began stepping forward. Raven unveiled his claws and prepared himself. The assassin stopped within two arm lengths and stared directly at the demon's chest. Raven was frozen to the spot. He was expecting a punch or kick but nothing. The assassin merely stood there with his gaze locked. Taking the bait, Raven lunged forward and slashed at Mikhail's face. In a flash, the assassin took a ducking step forward and and drilled a fist into Raven's mid section. It knocked the air out of him and caused him to double over. Mikhail followed up by elbowing him in the back of the head sending the demon to the floor. He took a few steps back to allow the demon to get up.\n\n\"You're quick human,\" Raven coughed. \n\nMikhail just smirked. He raised his hands again and waited for the demon to get ready. Simultaneously they dashed forward and clashed. Mikhail blocked and and parried the demon's powerful blows with ease and countered with his own strong strikes. Raven was driven back towards a wall. He tried to trick Mikhail by pretending to throw a haymaker then diving for a tackle but Milkhail was too well trained. He rolled over the demon's back before Raven could secure his grip. Before he knew it Mikhail had him in a chokehold.\n\n\"Tell me, Raven, if you were to die here would you return to your Nether?\" Mikhail asked.\n\n\"Of course,\" he rasped, \"I would simply go back there and return here; the door between our two worlds is always open.\"\n\nMikhail released him, shoving him forward. He coughed and gasped for air hodling his throat. \n\n\"Can I pass through this door and speak to your Reaper,\" ", "\tA breath, half way between a sigh of relief and relief, cut through the air. It was a strange sigh, with a voice all its own. At any moment, those that heard it would think it might break out into a song and dance.\n\tIf sighs could do that. They most certainly could not do that.\n\tThe issuer of the sigh walked slowly, awkwardly, through the room as the other occupants held their not-so-special breaths. It walked up to the counter, hitting it before stopping, and looked at the person standing behind a clunky computer.\n\t“W-welcome to the Sunset Motel,” the person said, “You, uh, you wanna room?”\n\t“Yeahhhh…” It said in a tone that conveyed either no emotion or all of them, “For the nigh-t.”\n\t“Sure, then. You gotta card?”\n\tIt reached for its pocket in a manner befitting Frankenstein’s Monster putting on a display of the action. With a low-volume thunderclap, It deposited a credit card on the counter. A few painfully awkward moments later, the person behind the counter slid the card back with a key.\n\t“Room 204.”\n\tIt, in courteous response, smiled a tooth and gum filled grin like that of someone taking a selfie during a dentist’s exam. That was truly horrifying. It walked out, in It’s painfully awkward way, and the room released their collective breath.\n\n\tIt sat in the rented room, looking over the Good Book. \n\tA Good Book.\n\tSort of.\n\tIt was really more like a first draft. Dictated to a child. And the child copied it down from memory later. And forgot a whole lot. And added in some things. And also had no talent for writing or describing things.\n\tBut this Good Book suited It’s needs.\n\tInside It’s head, something squirmed, something rotten and vile, a very bad thing that wanted to do bad things. That thing wanted to be free but found itself, like some many other times before, powerless to do a thing. This made captivity worse, but the thing had done far worse.\n\tIt turned the page, pen in hand, and read quietly. It went, “Hmm,” every so often, and It’s hands danced along the edges with flowing lines of script that melded perfectly with patterns and designs and pictures, all in a form and language no human had seen since the Watchers. Any who looked upon it would judge it beautiful, but It had not practiced in some time and had crude instruments. \n\tThe door to the room burst open, the doorway filled by a person with a shotgun.\n\tIt looked at the thing for a long split second before a spray of pellets struck it in the chest. \n\tThe gunner came forward as It fell backward, a slave to gravity, and grinned down.\n\t“Flithy Hellspawn. There is no place you can go that we will not hunt you down. Unholy wretch.”\n\tA single tear came to It’s eye as it remembered a history untold, a flight unbearable, and… something else. Inside, the thing lashed out furiously, fear and anger rising as it wanted to be free; to hurt and be safe.\n\tThere was another one now, holding something in its hands. A bottle. Slowly, It began to push itself up. The other one came forward and water fell on It like acid. There was a howl of pain as that one began to speak.\n\t“Back, foul demon, back to the pit. The power of Christ compels you! The power of the Lord, our Father, binds you!”\n\tA father’s love.\n\tIt was over pretty quickly after that. The shotgun went through one wall, another was soaked with the water. The two intruders sat slumped on the ground, dazed and exhausted. It looked at them, uncertain.\n\t“Nev… Never… stop… hunting…” one said.\n\tIt looked down at the two, remembering uncounted ages of pain and suffering meted out by It’s own, now-immaterial hands. But It remembered something else, something long before that, a feeling It had known since the moment of It’s creation and kept within it like a lantern through the long dark. \n\tIt looked over at the Good Book and thought not only of the children that wrote it and kept it, but what it represented beyond even their understanding.\n\tIt sighed at the two, a mix fear and relief, and left. \n", "I just can't seem to get it right! Every time I change forum something is off, eyes that blink sideways, an extra row of teeth, extra fingers on each hand. Shifting is an extremely rare gift for an underling and one that is even harder to master. Projection on the other hand, is even rarer there has only been four others who have has both shifting and projection as their gifts.\n\nThese gifts our salvation, our means of survival. We used to walk on the surface, or soar in the air with the birds; that was until we were cast down to hell. Our god cleared the land of us to make way for his new favorites. No, not our god. Their god, the human god. When we were cast down we were each given a parting gift, as we had done no wrong. \nAt least that's what I have been told, I was far too young to remember any of this when it happened, but none of it matters any more. Audite, Motus, Videre and I have made it back to the surface. After six thousand years we are the first to reach the surface since the arivals of the humans.\n\n*\n\n\n\"Caelum, we need to keep trying. I can hear someone coming\" \n\nI know I should take this warning with a grain of salt, Audite's gift is sound, she can manipulate it and could probably hear somebody pass gas in Cambodia from here.\n\n\"Come on Audite. Give her a break, we practiced all day yesterday and I don't see any humans for miles.\" \n\nVidere says with a hint of annoyance in his voice. He's the oldest in the group, he easily has a century on Audite even though she won't tell us how old she is. His gift is sight. He can see for hundreds of miles, through walls and even the ground. If he really pushes he can see backwards and forwards in time.\n\n\"No it's ok. I can keep trying. It's really not a big deal.\" I walk over to the back of the room where Motus is sleeping. I gently place my now human palm on his wide scaly forehead and suck in a breath as the familiar pain of transformation leaps from my hand to his body. When I first learned how to shift it felt as if all my bones were melting and as if my flesh was tearing itself away from my body, but now it's nothing more than an electric pain that shoots through every nerve in my body. \n\n\"Fuck that hurts!\" Motus loudly shouts. \"You really have to warn me when you do that. Next time don't sneak up on me when I'm sleeping.\" \n\n\"Come on Motus lighten up. You look almost human.\" Says Audite, and she's right. Instead of the large scaly dragon like creature with wide eyes, an even wider forehead, a long slender tail and huge wings; in front of me I see a large teen aged boy maybe 18-20 years old, the only problem is instead of the pinkish or even dark brown skin humans normally have Motus had skin that was a bluish hue.\n\n\"Why don't you let Caelum shift you then? Huh?\" \n\n\"Fine. Its not like it'll hu..\" her sentence was cut short as she was whisked across the room by an invisible force.\n\n\"Stop it Motus! I have legs. I can walk.\"\n\n\"What you don't like it? Oops. Now you're stuck to the ceiling. Oh, now you're pressed against the door.\" And as he said this with a flick of his wrist Audite was flung across the room without even being touched.\n\n\"Stop fighting we don't have time for this. Caelum deal with him.\" Videre says the last part in a low voice. So I walk over to Motus place my hand on his shoulder and shift him back hoping the transformation will be painful enough to stop him from flinging Audite aroundthe room like a rag doll.\n\n\n\n\n\n\"To the humans we are deserving of hell. To the humans we are the embodiment of sin and of all evil\"\n\nMy father's voice soars over the crowd. He is giving his sermon. I think I've heard this one before, humans are the evil ones, God is a flawed being for casting the innocents down to hell, one day we will make our way back to the surface blah blah blah.\n\nScreams fill the room as wisps of black smoke snake across the floor, nipping at our feet. Every so often they'll stop and take interest in their next victim. Slowly wrapping them in thick black smoke, burning every inch of skin as they work their way up, until finally they reach the head. Then the wisps of smoke plunge into peoples mouths, noses, ears and eyes. Filling a person until they are bloated with smoke, bloodshot eyes always open wide with fear and shut in pain. This is something the humans here in hell will never understand, they are already dead and we are still alive. They can still be hurt by the wisps, but they cannot be slowly tortured to death, they cannot know what it feels like to die of a thousand lashes on the inside of your body. The humans who have ended down here in hell are here because they are evil themselves. The wisps don't target them because most of the humans are shielded in sin and hate.* \n\nEveryone around me is moving. No running. They are trying to escape. But I don't move, because I know that there is no escape. Once the wisps have come after you they will get you, no matter how far you run or how well you hide.\n\n\"Caelum! Caelum! Move! Run!\" I whip around only to see the wisps making their way up my father's ankles.\n\n\"NO!\"* I scream. Suddenly running towards my father even though there is nothing I can do to help. It's too late there is nothing I can do to help.\n\n\n\"Caelum. Caelum. Wake up we have to move.\"\n\n\"Wait what?\" I look up and Videre is standing over me with a worried look on his face.\n\n**\n\n^(I'll add more in the morning as it is almost 1am and I have school in 7 hours.)", "“State your name, rank, and allegiance, you sinful beast.”\n\nThe words echoed about the church walls as father O’Connor stared down at the sullen looking teenager handcuffed to the podium. The boy raised his head and looked up at the wizened old priest with a contempt filled glare.\n\n\n“̜̖N̘͖̯̖̙̠O̞̱͎̼̰ͅͅM̶E̕N̖̰͠O҉͇̩̪̬̘̯ ̩͓H̢̘̬̦͙̩̫I̦͖͖̱͇̩ͅS̴̙̠͈ͅT̡̝̜̝͖ ̤͇͟G̯͙̜̺͓̠EE̶̟̦ ̧͕̩̰E̷̜̦̘͎L̟͔ ͍͘H̠̱AR̤̠̠̹͔A̙̟Nͅ ̝̗̟̖ͅG̷̮̱̤̳ƠD̫̭̣̺͔̝͜Ọ̝̤̭R͔͉͍ ̢̣̣̼̖͇̲͇E̗̦͕ͅM͖̦͢P̛̟̼̫̼̬̙̮HͅI͔̣͉͍̩̪̰S̮̘̺T̛͍͖I͓̦̻͉L̟̮̟ ̵̱͎̞̝̙Ṱ̛̮̱̺E͔̻͚̯͙-̺̣̬̲ͅ-̳͞”҉̠̫̥͇̹̰-----\n\n\n\nThe boy was cut off as a chalice of water was splashed across his face.\n\n\n“English! Do not sully this place with your native speech boy.”\n\n\nShaking the droplets of water from his hair and doubling his glares intensity he continued.\n\n\n“You know that holy water doesn’t do anything right, ‘sept ruin my clothes?”\n\n\nHe sighed as he looked down at was once a well pressed suit, now drenched and beginning to crease.\n\n\n“Its bloody rude to chuck a pint in someone’s face, just be more specific next time, you know I’m new to this body and it’s hard to talk when I’m used to having more than one mouth, the words get crammed into one space and you’ve got to order them properly. They just fall out one after the other like a waterfall and once they start more and more com--”\n\n\n“Name. Rank. Allegiance.” Interrupted the priest emptying another chalice over the boys head. \n\n\nNot even bothering to shake the droplets off this time he continued with closed eyes and an exasperated tone;\n\n\n“Fine, I’d best talk before you drown me, I suppose... I am Naberiel, my rank--”. \n\nHe paused in thought.\n\n“—my rank is- was- sub-chief acting manager of the 12th- no- 11th totem under is Marquis Forneus who is currently… 29th in line for the crown of hell…30th! The 30th in line. I forgot Bun’e, He’s forgettable, quite ironic considering he looks a bit like an elephant, what with the tusks and all. He once--\n\n\n“Enough babbling, what is your purpose in the mortal realm, in my church and at the lords alter.” \n\n“Sanctuary.”\n\nThe priest raised his eyebrow and his lips as he snorted.\n\n\n“Sanctuary? I’m here to send you back to the pit demon. After months of hunting you I finally found you, I have captured you, I have brought you to God’s house and you have saved me time and torture by simply handing me your precious name. With your name I need only speak the incantation and you will be banished back to your foul home.\n\n\nThe boy finally opened his eyes again and looked up with panic at the priest, grasping at his robes he cried out.\n“Please hear me out. I beg of you Oh merciful man of God, just five minutes are all I ask father, think of it as a confession if you will. Let me argue my case as to why I should stay, and confess my wicked ways.”\n\n\nWith a look of triumph the priest knelt down to the boy and grasped his clenched hands, releasing the robes.\n“Confess my child, prattle my boy, scream, cry, bawl, it matters little after I have drawn the sigil and said the words you will feel the oh so familiar heat of home. So please go on, I’m all ears.\n\n\nWiping his eyes the boy crossed his legs and slumped his back against the alter in a defeated pose as the priest giddily riffled through an ancient tome searching for the appropriate banishment.\n\n\n“Father forgive me for I have sinned…” the boy started. “In the beginning I was an Angel, I wasn’t a particularly good angel, not bad either just sort of so-so. I was around when God made you lot, humans that is, you are his strangest creation. Wingless angels. I didn’t think it was that revolutionary when you were made, I’ll admit you all look a bit like him in a strange way, not as magnificent, a bit dumpier, less ermm refined* I should say…”\n\n\nO’Conner paused and stared briefly at the demon before wrinkling his nose and continuing his search.\n\n\n“—Anyway a bunch of us got together to have a good chin-wag about your kind, and it and turns out at the same time Lucifer decided to play a bit of a ‘prank’. To cut a long story short he got knocked down a peg or two and we ended up getting knocked down with him. Things didn’t improve drastically in hell. I’m not that good with torture, bit squeamish, however being part of the bonafide 'first to fall' gang I found a comfortable place in middle management and left the bigger decisions to the other 72 'lords', as they now go by.”\n\n\nO’conner had been far too busy drawing a strange pictograph on the alter to really listen to my origin story and had just finished up a particularly intricate circle as I accidentally left my head knock against the wood. The shock made his steady hands move involuntarily and create a beautiful line down the middle of a a particularly tricky area. \n\nHe growled barely restraining his fury and started re-drawing again, The demon continued his rambling once more.\n\n“So anyway many years later humans get a bit rebellious too. Just like us, ‘cept they don’t have our powers so they think hey maybe they can befriend us. They somehow learn our names and give us a call on the old ouija board or summoning circle or whatever kids do these days and expect us to play nice. We don’t, the others don’t like being solicited by the ones they blame for falling and things end up messy. Now the guy who called me up…” he motioned to himself shaking his hands in a jazzy way against the restraints. “…Wasn’t a good speller. My name is Naberiel, I’m guessing the guy who I’m currently inhabiting wanted the 24th lord of Hell, Naberius and didn’t write the correct rune, so got me instead. I’m really thankful to this guy to be quite honest, I wasn’t a fan of hell and made a fair few enemies who had enough of my laid back ways, in fact they considered it treasonous and were about to get rid of me when my new bestie here happened to intervene .”\n\n\nA look of satisfaction crossed the priests face as he surveyed the completed sigil before him.\n“Well demon I hoped you liked your holiday because your time on God’s green earth has come to its end.”\n\n\nThe boy let his head hang in resignation as the priest began the incantation. It lasted ten minutes as the old man fumbled through the Latin till he eventually he reached the end with a triumphant bellow.\n\n\nNothing happened.\n\n\nThe boy said nothing as the priest tried the incantation a second time much more fluently.\n\n\nNothing.\n\n\nThe third time he offered him advise. “Instead of antiquo, try aeterno , careful with the annunciation“. \n\n\nThe old man threw the book to the floor in frustration and with unbridled anger in his eyes grabbed the boy by his collar and screamed.”\n\n“Damn you, what is your true name, beast?”\n\n\nCalmly he replied “Naberiel. I told you.”\n\n\n“Then why does it not work” He retorted.\n\n\nSmiling for the first time the demon mused. “Did you know in the fourth century a bunch of holy men gathered and came up with a bunch of rules to protect the homeless, the fugitives, and the unwanted? They labelled churches safe areas to those who needed them. All the people had to do was claim sanctuary and they could stay within its confines.\n\n\nThe priest practically ripped the boy from the floor almost dislocating his arm in the process.\n\n\n“Wait, wait, wait, the terms of sanctuary decree that no harm should fall to whomever is under the church's care, and further the clergy must help to care and protect to the best of their abilities till the threat of persecution passes.\"\n\n\nThe man turned white and dropped the demon “but you aren’t mortal or human how are you protected? You aren’t Christian, you’re demonic, full of sin.”\n\n\nThe boy laughed as he broke the handcuffs with demonic strength, “First the holy law of sanctuary states ‘anyone’ can claim sanctuary. That isn’t limited to humans, a simply technicality really. Secondly unlike you I have seen the face of God and boy do I believe he is real, I don’t doubt he Is the true god I both fear and worship him. Finally a man can be free of sin if he only confesses his sins to a preacher, I started to confess and you interrupted, we are still in the middle of it, and once I’m done recounting more than a millennia of devilry I will be free to stay as long as I wish, once your done listening of course.\"\n\n“I refuse. I will not abide by this.” Squeeked the old man.\n\n\n“How unchristian of you, I’ll admit the situation is strange but consider the following I could have hurt you so many times tonight yet I didn’t, God has allowed me to enter here without frying me on the spot so I can’t be entirely evil, and I’m bringing a new sheep to your flock. This vessel has serious issues and anger problems by accepting me you are getting a two for the price of one deal padre.”\n\n\nThe priest slumped down and had nothing left to say, he accepted defeat and sat in a stupor trying to grasp the situation. Carefully the boy guided the old man to a nearby pew and knelt by his side patting his knee as he spoke.\n\n\n“Well, I don’t know about you father but I could do with a cuppa after tonight, you stay there I’ll make us both a brew and be back in a while and we can pick up where we left of I’m not in any rush to leave.\n", "“Hi, I would like a large cup of coffee, please. One cream, two sugars.”\n\n“Get out of here!” The male barista glares at me, a firm grip on the phone in front of him, finger preparing to dial 911.\n\nI frown and sigh. “May I please just-” \n\n“Leave! Leave or I’ll call the police!”\n\nI sigh and hold up two hands in protest. “Okay, okay. Geez.” I turn my back to the barista and make my way to the door. Not that I’m afraid of the cops; I’m pretty sure they don’t have silver bullets lying around in their desk drawers. They may, however, have crosses to blast me into dust, and I’d rather not take that risk.\n\n“Go back to Hell, you demon spawn,” the barista hisses behind my back.\n\nI hold up a middle finger as I walk out the door.\n\nStares. Stares everywhere I go. I try to ignore them, but it’s hard. Hey, if you are a humanoid dragon-like creature from hell, people will stare. It’s times like this when I remember that I don’t actually belong. Unlike mortal folklore, we can’t just change our physical appearances willy nilly. That’s some nonsense talk, though I wish I have that ability. That would make my life a whole lot easier. \n\nIt’s hard enough for me back in Hell, though I probably shouldn’t complain because mortals have it much worse than I did. Now it is just as hard, if not worse, up here. I should have known to check the portal before I entered it back in the tunnel. Of all the places I can be, such as Los Angeles or Vancouver or London, I just have to end up here in Kelowna: a city on the Bible Belt of Canada. There are churches every ten minutes if you drive. Normally, I don’t mind churches, but this is overkill. I’m sure an angry mob with pitchforks and torches will gather in front of my house one day. \n\nSuddenly, I feel a little homesick. Great. Hey, at least there aren’t other demons breathing down your neck to make sure you’re being obedient and filling your daily “human possession” quota. And I mean that literally. \n\nTilly the raven squawks at me as I enter my studio apartment. I frown and stick my tongue out at her, but she doesn’t seem pleased.. I throw my keys onto the Command hook next to my door, take off my suit jacket and hang it in the coats closet, and plop down onto the couch. I kick off my shoes and groan when my feet are free from those stuffy shoes. I hate shoes, but the pavement scratches the bottom of my feet. I even took extra time this morning to look good. News flash: mortals don’t care if you look good or not if you’re a demon. Extra time wasted.\n\n“You’re home early.” Tilly stares at me from across the room on the TV. “I thought you were going to apply for a job down at the coffee shop.”\n\n“Don’t get me started.” I grumble a few curse words under my breath and lie down on the couch. \n\n“Humans antagonizing you again?”\n\n“Look, it’s been a long day. Just shut up, please.”\n\nBut Tilly can only be silent for so long. Five minutes later she is yapping again. I try to cover my ears but I can’t block out the sound. Why did I decide to bring her over again?\n\n“You know, there is some place where you could work.”\n\n“Forget it, Tilly. I’ve tried everywhere.”\n\nShe ignored me. “You could help the pastors or whoever at the church with exorcisms.”\n\nI quickly sit up and shoot her a glance. Her face is serious. I shake my head. “Nuh-uh. No way. One, Boss will hunt me down. Two, I’ll be turned into dust as soon as I step into that place.”\n\n“You’re a demon. You know how demons work.”\n\n“Tilly, for Hell’s sake, please shut the fuck up.”\n", "\"God damn it, it's those fucking dicks again,\" I said under my breath. I wiped my brow and inhaled. How was I getting away this time?\n\nI started running, and hoping they wouldn't catch up. Last time, they almost got me. Those brothers hate my entire kind. Yes, we're evil, but Hell sucks and we hate it just as much!* Some day, they're going to understand what it's like.\n\nI run into a random motel room and hope they don't find me, but there's only so much I can do. Teleporting away isn't an option, since it takes too much energy and I'm exhausted. \n\nThe red-haired woman whose room I just broke into sees me and screams. The two brothers run in after me. \"Get him!\" The short one yells.\n\nThe giant, hulking, moosey oaf of a human starts shooting at me. I crash through the window and summon all* of my energy into teleporting.\n\n\"Fuck the Winchesters!\" I scream as I disappear.", "They make it seem like we like torturing people. They make it like we're all toothy smiles and glee while we're stabbing people in the chest or branding them with hot irons, while they moan and beg and wail. And look, I'll admit a few demons I know will go home and beat off, thinking about their long day of work. If that's how you get your rocks off, fine, I'm not judging. But it ain't my thing, and it ain't most demons' thing. For me it was just work. Don't act like you've never found yourself stuck in a job you hate.\n\nSo I escaped. I guess you want to know how. You know those situations where someone survives a freak accident? Like when a plane crashes and a hundred people die, but one guy survives? Here's the thing. Nobody actually survives shit like that. Frankly, I'm surprised you people ever believed those stories, but I guess silver linings have a lot of appeal, even on Earth. But those one in a million survivors you feel inspired by? They're really just demons, masquerading. \n\nFor me, it was a school bus going off a bridge. The driver got loaded on cough syrup a few hours before the field trip and ended up swerving into the Allegheny. I picked out the cutest drowning little girl, in her pigtails and pink Dora lace-ups, and I slipped right inside her body, just as her soul was sent for its judgment. Later, on the local news, I did the whole blubbering and weeping thing like I just lost twenty friends, and I held the hands of my new blue collar parents, who thanked God for saving their daughter. My new big brother had a buzz cut and a silver chain and he promised to be nice to me forever. \n\nNow, let me tell you, I didn't choose to be a public school kid in Pittsburgh for the fun of it. A lot of times, demons will come up with these bizarre schemes to get celebrities addicted to drugs or race cars. They spend years whispering deceit and vice into their ears, waiting for them to get so fucked up, they end up killing themselves. This basically never works. Celebrities just don't surrender their bodies easy. Their souls fight back, hard, and drag you right back where you came from. For all that work, you'll spend 5 minutes on Earth, if you're lucky. But me, I'm not greedy. I'll happily take over for a bored suburban nobody who ain't got enough to fight me for. \n\nAnother perk, the Bouncers hate dealing with little kids. It's a bit stressful for me, never knowing if the old woman at the mall thinks I'm a cutie pie or if she's a Bouncer searching for my soul. But usually they don't drop kick a juvenile unless they're very fucking sure. Now, I won't lie, I've had some close calls. There are a few Bouncer bodies buried under the rusty swing set in the backyard, and a couple more I left in flop houses on the other side of the tracks. They think I'm weak because I'm four feet tall and stick thin, but I'm still a fucking demon fighting for survival. Still, at some point I figure they'll get the best of me. But at least I'll have given it a shot. I don't got a problem with killing if it means getting to determine my destiny. I just fucking hate torture. \n\n" ]	9
Would I be less afraid of dying, if I could choose how to go? Bonus points: S/He doesn't tell the authors, and instead chooses a death from their stories.	[WP] Death (or G/god, or whatever) is an avid reader, and allows authors to write their own deaths.	[ "There is a theory that there’s sadness in the rain. There’s rain in the sadness, too. I touched it with bare hands as I went out that evening, but what about other men? Will they sense it or feel it? There’s only grey. \n\nThe greatest novel the man had ever wrote was now a dusty cramp of papers, sitting in solitude where no light could ever reach. The shelves were high, too high for anyone to be able to grasp their ending, as if infinite words could be contained in such flawless human structure. The Theory of Rain had conquered millions of lonesome hearts around the nation upon its release, rendering sole souls able to sit by the window on a gritty Saturday night with a book that could almost stare into their insides and truly understand it. \n\nAfter piercing through a country’s heart, the book spread its influence throughout the globe, reaching other countries in a matter of weeks; the wonderment that awed the man’s face upon discovering that his own statements grew to such loving influence rendered his wife silent, and in that way she wrapped her arms around his body and kissed him softly, as if the simple pleasure of a kiss contained all the things she could never express once again to her husband. \n\nShe remembered Philip’s long writing nights. He would never lock his door and the slight opening acted as constant invitation, so as to allow her to perceive he was not pushing her out or ostracizing her. She was part of his own work. Philip had been a master with words and the dry script she wrote with shaking hands could never be compared to the amazement and passion that was written between the lines of the man’s speech. Through the door slip, I allow my muse to enter. She caressed the words with her mind a little bit, and then locked for the second time the door leading to Philip’s office. She was not ready. By opening it once, she’d thought the armor she had built around herself was enough to able to face the ill-omened texts once more, but the attempt diminished and, sadly, had failed. She left the key in the lock and let the door slide on its own until it closed by itself and she stood, facing dry wood that was now wood and what used to be blue paint. He painted words, she painted doors. \n\nPhilip’s funeral had been a bigger tragedy than his own death. He hated the loudness of the world, the screaming of sadness, the revolting of violence. There, as the dead body layed on a cold coffin, people screamed in high pitch squeaks and two men in black trenchcoats fought angrily for quite a while, until the priest’s grim, lit words came to cease the confrontation. It was quite a scene indeed; not as much as it was literally, a scene. \n\nOpening the door in a momentarily act of defiance, she saw herself surrounded by the imageries of a hundred books, randomly stocked in the shelves, as others sat on large, undisturbed mounds on the floor. She held the Theory of Rain in her hands and cried, as if holding the last memory of how Phillip Key, dedicated husband and venerated author, came to perish through his own words. \n\n\n\n\n\n\n", "For the life of me, I don't know why they put me by a window to the garden, something about light. I twitched slightly, rasping, as I felt a small, delicate hand enclosed in mine. With great effort, I turned my eye toward it, and, blurred at the edges, its focus uncertain, I saw my hand, dry now, still thin fingered. I pushed up on the bed and saw my daughter, she for some reason took more after me than her mother, the skin was hers, the wit was a bit of both, her hair, her forehead were mine, and we were undecided on the nose. Though others were whispering, haltingly, sniffing then gathering themselves, I found myself focusing on her.\n\nShe always had a tendency to get red, but it was especially noticeable here, the only trace of color amid the solemnity, blacks, grays, and browns of conventional weaves. At least when I wore it, there was something intriguing about it. A tear slid down her face, but she was strong, as she had been through all of this.\n\nHe was here, unnoticed, his presence a simple fact, he was. To my failing vision, the spindly figure in the dark suit was scarcely more than a gray shape. Clearer than anything, I could hear him, \"How was it?\"\n\nSee you there. " ]	2
	[WP] On the verge of the world's end, the US government has sent a group of 10 18 year old kids from each state to a new planet, where a city has already been built for them.	[ "I walked home from school that evening to find my mother distraught and worried.I asked her what was the problem then she handed me the letter.It had a nice US goverment stamp at the top left corner and the writing clear and formal.Here is the letter\n\nTo Jacob McAllister \nThis is a message sent from the United States goverment to inform you about the events set out for your future.A group of 10 to 18 year old Male and Females will be sent to Jeden, a man made planet that has been in construction since 1947.\n\nIn 1947 the US goverment realised that the world was eventually going to overflow with humans and needed somewhere else to retreat so jeden was created \n\nNo family members or pets can be accompanied by you as well as any other objects.You may bring a standard size suitcase with personal items.Takeoff to jeden is 10:45 SHARP on the 18th of may 2016.\n\nRegards \nYour goverment \n\nI flicked my eyes over to the calendar.That was in 2 weeks.I fell to my knees and my vision went fuzzy and thats all i remember\n\nI woke up the morning after and the whole world was exploding with the news.There were massive strikes and riots and it was unsafe to go outside.I packed my bags and waited for time to pass.When the day had come my mother and i went to the closest space station and said our Strongest goodbyes.I said i would come back to earth once i reached 18....2020.I hopped on the shuttle and gave the gaurds my ID.I sat down beside a girl with blonde hair she looked my age.She said hello and we began to talk nervously but then started talking casually.The ship began a countdown and shot into the sky.I instantlly felt sick and everone was shocked and speechless.Once we descended out of the atmosphere my head felt dizzy.It took us 17 hours to get there but the ride was ok and we had TV and Condiments on the rocket.Once we arrived i lined up outside and looked around.It was Like a mini earth.\n\nPart 1 of hopefully many more i am excited to continue and make about 6 or 7 parts\n\n" ]	1
Any cosmetic damage (such as limb loss, open wounds, and even decapitations) don't heal when you reach heaven. The pain is non-existent, but the struggles of being handicapped are still very real.	[WP] Wounds don't heal when you go to heaven, it's a shame you died doing what you love.	[ "It had been a dream of mine since I was little. It was my father’s profession, my grandfather’s profession, and there was that one time my dog even helped out. My mother was so proud. I had never met my dad, but my mother said he was a very great man. She said he died doing what he loved for what he knew to be true. Sometimes she said she even wished she could be apart of it, but it wasn’t in the cards for her. She still needed to take care of my little sister. I smiled at her as I suited up. It was a big day. I gave her a hug, kissed my little sister’s forehead, and made my way through the door. “You’re father would be so proud,” my mom said with a grin. I only smiled back. I got into the car and waved as I pulled out of the driveway. \n\n \nI parked in a discreet location and got out of the car, heading for the center of the town. It was short walk before I came to a place busy enough for my purposes. I stood by the sidewalk, taking everything in. This is what it all came down to. I had dreamed of this moment for years. Wondering what it would feel like, knowing I would soon be with my father, knowing I had made my parents proud. A tear rolled down my cheek. I stepped out into the bustling crowd of the city square. I looked at all of the faces around me and closed my eyes. I pressed the trigger. I felt a slight tingling, then nothing. \n\nI opened my eyes. Everything was bright white. I waited for my eyes to adjust, but everything stayed glaringly bright. I tried to look around, but while I could feel my head turning, my view stayed the same. “Oh yes, it’s always difficult at first.” A voice came from somewhere in front of me, or was it behind me? I couldn’t tell. “Here, let me gather you up real quick,” the voice spoke again. I felt someone touching my leg, and then my arm, and then my head, but I still only saw straight ahead. “Wow, you must have been using some pretty powerful stuff,” the voice came once more, this time somewhat muffled. I tried to answer back, but my mouth was filled with what felt like cotton. \n\n“Would you look at that, you’re eyes managed to stay together, that’s quite impressive.” I was getting frustrated. Suddenly the whole world started to spin, a well dressed man holding a box came into view. “Welcome to heaven!” he said with a smile. The man appeared to be standing on top of a pathway made of clouds. The smile was replaced with a frown. “Now what did I do with your mouth,” he muttered. The world began spinning again then suddenly stopped. I appeared to be in the box the man was carrying. “Aha!” the man shouted, “here it is!” I felt a hand brush against my lips, then something landed next to me. “Well I think that’s all of you.”\n\n I tried moving my mouth again. “What’s going on?!” I demanded. My voice came from above my head. The man shook the box and I felt like something was on top of me, like I was on top of me. That didn’t even make sense. A hand appeared to pick me up and the man came back into view. “You scared me there son.” He said with another smile. “I told you, you’re in heaven.” He continued, “on account of you being a suicide bomber, you were a shoe-in. That’s all we really have up here, you know.” The man began walking. “Go ahead take a look.” The man turned me around and I saw a scene straight out of a zombie movie. Hundreds of crippled men hobbled before me. The man nearest to me was missing his legs. He pulled himself along using his one functional arm. Another man passed by, this one had his legs, but his head was placed where his torso should have been.\n\n“What’s wrong with them?!” I asked in horror. “I said,” the man started, “all we have is suicide bombers. Those are the only ones that make it here. The thing is, you have to stay in the same state you were in when you died, hence the variety of shapes and sizes. I’m one of the people that helps our less, ah, mobile residents.” \n\nSlowly the influx of information settled in my mind. I was speechless. This isn’t the way I’d pictured heaven. I had imagined seeing my father and grandfather waiting to meet me as I entered my next stage of life. Standing, with their bodies intact, and mine as well, beckoning to me with open arms. Wait. “Does that mean that I’m-” I paused. I was afraid to say it out loud. “I’m inside of this box you’re carrying?” “Yessaroonie,” said the man. He sounded significantly more happy than I felt. “But it’s ok, I’m here to cater to your every need.” \n\nI couldn’t believe it. All of those years. Everything I had been told. My father, my country. This wasn’t heaven. This couldn’t be heaven. If what the man said was true, I would never meet my father. There was nothing left of him when he was done. I’d be looking at a pile of ashes. I thought it was a noble death. It was my dream. Why would I be punished for doing what was right? I heard singing in the distance. This moron had apparently placed my ears at the bottom of the box, but I could still make out the words. \n\nThey said there was a heaven \nThey said that hell was war \nI died to free my people \nI died for war no more \n\nI loved I lived I cried \nI knew my choice was right \nAnd now I stand with people \nWho joined in my plight \n\nWhat fools we were to think \nWe could extend our life \nThe infidels were murdered \nTo put an end to strife? \n\nNow here we stand together \nEternally we’re bound \nA graveyard of the living \nAn occupied ghost town \n\nA silly choice we made \nAnd for it, we fell \nHow could we have gained heaven \nBy sending men to hell \n \n\nI couldn’t take it anymore. I started yelling. Screaming. Moving any body part that would respond. My carrier’s lengthy explanation was cut off. “Now now,” he said, “we can’t have any of that.” My eyes were put back into the box, and the world went dark. I couldn’t hear anything anymore. I felt nothing. I heard nothing. I started to cry, or at least I tried to. Why was I being punished for what I believed to be right? No, I knew I did the right thing. It was my parents’ dream. If I was punished for choosing the right, I would endure whatever came. The man singing was wrong. I knew this was only a test. I would pass. I would stay here in the darkness for as long as I must. I would not forsake my father’s faith.\n\nAnd I stayed. I stayed there for a very long time. I tried counting. I tried yelling. Sometimes I would be angry. Sometimes I was sad. But my situation never changed. The man I had met that day never returned. I couldn’t even tell if I was in that box anymore. I accepted it after a while. The isolation gave me lots of time to think. I thought about my family, about my dreams, about what had happened after I had pulled that trigger. I thought so much that eventually, I ran out of thoughts. I simply… existed. It was a peaceful feeling. I had no worries. I had no cares. I realized life for what it was, just a series of imperfect actions from imperfect beings. My discovery was a long time coming, drifting through thoughts for what was probably hundreds of thousands of years. This was heaven. I had passed the test. Heaven wasn’t about creature comforts or things of the world. I had moved on from the world. And because I had done that, I felt something that I had never felt before: pure, blissful peace. " ]	1
	[WP] You've been recruited by the United Nations to create a top secret international defence initiative of enhanced people.	[ "There was a knock at my door.\n\nIt was early on Monday morning, and I was halfway through getting dressed and my first cup of coffee. I hadn't slept well. Sarah was getting the kids ready for school, which was such a typically noisy affair that I did not hear the knock. I stood in the kitchen listening to the commotion and mentally checking off the things the kids would need - lunches, books, bags, etc though I knew in fact I was being useless and Sarah had already done this. I was merely procrastinating, dreading the moment when my family would leave and I would be left alone to contemplate my unemployment. Then the doorbell rang. I swallowed the rest of my coffee and yelled that I would get it to no one in particular, and doubted they heard me. \n\nThe first thing I noticed was the earpiece, which trailed down like a whispering serpent into the collar. The man stood in a well practiced stance, hands held together at the front. His uniform was one shade bluer than black, and his hair seemed likewise. A clone of him stood at the bottom of my steps, looking the other way. On the street, a car that fit their description tried not to look so obviously menacing, though I was immediately suspicious that the glass was bulletproof. \n\n\"Officer?\"\n\n\"Agent. Bridges, sir. We'd like you to come with us.\"\n\n\"What is this about?\"\n\n\"You recently took an aptitude test and submitted an application to a job at the United Nations, correct?\n\n\"Yea...\"\n\n\"Congratulations, the application was accepted. This is your first day on the job. Please, if you will put on some shoes, you will not need anything else. I will give you a minute to say goodbye to your wife, but we'd rather not be here for very long.\"\n\nI was immediately caught in the jetstream of military efficiency and maneuver, compelled to obey orders out of a vague yet ominous uncertainty about what dissent would bring. I did as the agent requested.\n\n\"What do you mean, you've got to go?\" Sarah spoke in the hushed tone of a mother who is having a conversation she does not wish her children to hear.\n\n\"Some people from the United Nations say they've got a job for me, but I've got to go with them right now.\"\n\n\"What are you talking about?\"\n\n\"They're right outside babe, I have to go.\"\n\n\"Mommy,\" wailed our second-born, \"can I take Patches to school?\" Patches was her teddy bear.\n\n\"No sweetie, he's scared of getting dirty outside, remember?\" Sarah was extremely deft at manipulating our children. I had recently begun paying more attention, to be sure Sarah never tried the same tricks on me. But I would freely admit that her occasional imperious moods were extremely attractive to me. She turned back towards me, shaking a strand of hair out of her face, \"Ok, fine. Let me know how it goes.\" We exchanged quick kisses and I said goodbye to the kids, who were seemingly oblivious to the fact that what was happening was abnormal, and not given enough time to think about it before Sarah was back at the reigns. I stepped outside.\n\nWe rode in silence in the black SUV, and I thought better than to ask. It was just a routine pick-up for these gentlemen, likely they knew nothing about my situation at all. Twenty minutes later we were outside of an office building, not conspicuously marked as the United Nations property but was of a modern and elegant architecture that reflected its ideals. Agent Bridges opened the door for me and led me inside, stopping briefly at the front desk to obtain a pass for me that had already been prepared. It had my driver's license picture on it. I was led to an elevator which went up to the fourteenth floor, to a small conference room. The environment thus far had been professional and sterile, officious, yet in the conference room signs of life stirred in the coffee machine and the janitors had not been able to rid the room of the persistent smell of stale coffee, like earth and hot cardboard. Bridges took up a position outside. I helped myself to a paper cup, was disappointed when all they had was Splenda. Behind me, the glass door swung noiselessly open.\n\n\"Hello!\" I jumped and juggled my paper cup, burning my hands with spilled coffee but thankfully saved the cup from dropping to the floor.\n\n\"Sorry, I startled you.\" A older man with comically bright eyes behind rimless rectangular glasses and an equally radiant smile had appeared at the other end of the table and was opening his briefcase.\n\n\"Yea,\" I replied, cursing my usual bad luck with first impressions and the effort I would have to make to compensate for it.\n\n\"We have a bit of paperwork, Mr. Santander,\" said the man busily as papers began to bubble over from inside his briefcase. \"But I thought you might like to have a discussion first.\" He found the folder he was looking for, placing it on the far side of the table as he closed his briefcase again and gestured to the seat on his right hand side. \"Surely you must be wondering why exactly you're here?\"\n\n\"Agent Bridges told me it was my first day on the job,\" I tried to sound confident, that hiring me had been the right decision. \"But what that job is exactly I have not been told. Nor have I been-\"\n\n\"Yes, yes, all the technical things are in the paperwork, I'm sure you won't be disappointed. You'll find it won't necessarily be just yourself taking care of your family, it'll be us. But the nature of your position here requires a bit of a conversation, first of all, I wanted to talk a little bit about your background. You studied at Quinton University correct? Lovely place, up in Wilkenham. A bachelor's and master's in philosophy.\" He continued without waiting for me to confirm these questions. \"I was particularly interested in your thesis exploring the 'Implications of Quantum Artifacts and Reflexive Pseudo-Conscious Events in a Cybernetic Framework' Hm..\" he trailed off. I panicked silently while I tried to remember every source, detail, or idea that I'd ever contemplated for that paper.\n\n\"Yes!\" the man suddenly continued. \"I had to have someone else explain to me a few bits of it but I got it in the end. Pretty vague title, don't you think? But quite well thought out in the paper. And that is why you are here.\" He sat back, tented his fingers, and fixed me suddenly in a hawkish glare over his spectacles, gauging my reaction\n\nI paused, considering. \"What does my research have to do with the United Nations?\"\n\n\"Yes, just the question I expected.\" The man became animated again. \"You know of course that the United Nations has a peacekeeping force.\"\n\n\"Yes, of course.\"\n\n\"And you know how atrociously ineffective they are?\"\n\n\"Well,\" but I was cut off again as if the statement had been as common knowledge as the one before it.\n\n\"Well indeed. Lots of room for improvement. And in the world we live in today, Mr. Santander we have come to realise that a world government cannot just dictate the rules and rely on people's better nature to agree and follow. We must have clout, as it were. The halls of the UN have grown emptier, more like a shell in recent times. Or a coffin. And this sudden global rise in nationalism is to blame. We're being driven apart.\"\n\n\"Driven apart? On purpose?\"\n\n\"Yes, strange don't you think that while our main antagonists the militant Islamist groups desire their holy war to spread across the globe, Christians vs. Muslims, just like the Crusades, instead everyone is dividing among themselves, clinging to outdated notions of country and culture. No, there's another force at work here.\"\n\n\"And what do I have to do with it?\"\n\n\"Because it's a force, not a person, or a group of people. Think of the entire world as your cybernetic framework. Your own mind, groups of people speaking local languages, telecommunications, and the internet, layers of networks so dense and diverse that they've become a new platform on which your theory may operate. The formulae you derived from your research, we think we've been seeing them in action.\"\n\nThe reality of what he was saying started to dawn on me. \"Conscious? How? How large?\"\n\n\"You should be able to guess that, just think about what I said earlier.\"\n\n\"Nations? Nations are becoming conscious?\"\n\n\"Yes, intermittently, to varying degrees depending on the density and interconnectivity of their networks and the isolation of those networks. But there are feedback loops at work here also. Growing nationalism means more isolated networks, meaning a stronger sense of distinction and chance of reflexivity. I'll put it this way. If North Korea had better infrastructure, and 98% cellphone penetration, they would be our top candidate. Ironically enough, globalism is what allowed this possibility to occur and the fact that everything is connected now is what is holding the next stage back. For now.\"\n\n\"So what do you want?\"\n\n\"Well, as the governing body of nations, we want to retain stability around the world. Stability implies control. We need you to help us identify and define the networks, the threats within them if there are any. Is there a tipping point for example. We have a lot of questions.\"\n\n\"How do you plan on doing anything even if you do know what's going to happen?\"\n\n\"That,\" and he hesitated, \"we will get to. There are other applications of your research that I would like to discuss, but first I must know that now you understand the parameters of your position here you're willing to continue working with us. There will be sacrifices to make. You must operate in extreme secrecy. The very existence of your position could be interpreted as a threat by a potential enemy we're not even able to identify yet. Your family must not know. Information spreads.\"\n\n\"Alright,\" I said, running a hand through my hair in what I knew was a nervous habit. I suspected I wouldn't break it for a long time. \"Alright. I'm in. Bring me the data.\" The man signaled to Bridges outside with a thumbs up, who immediately began chattering on his earpiece.\n\n\"What were the other applications?\"\n\n[Other stories]\n(https://www.reddit.com/r/teddyarmy)" ]	1
	[WP] A mighty King disguises himself as a lowly peasant in an attempt to find a maiden who will love him for who he is, not just for his kingdom.	[ "What beauty fetter fruit?\n\nFor who am I to taste?\n\nFor who to ride the hide of bitter rind?\n\nAtop the branch of the highest I see!\n\nHidden away from prey and pollenous bee!\n\nI may be even of gold \n\n- Midas is my only friend \n\nAnd yet he is most frivolous, most disheartened.\n\nMight I break teeth or revolt the belly?\n\n- it matters not -\n\nNot one finger spindly to reach may pick\nAnd dare they suffer to cure scurvy. \n\nNay, any way along the way they become sore!\n\nThus I ferments internally as good fruit of tree is born.\n\nLo! May a diver become as a fish of the school in the manner a plane becomes a bird of the sky? \n\nA single fruit of tree; a field of single flower.\n\nWhich particle, which speck begs nourishing rain?\n\nFor I will turn the dust unto a mound and the mound into a patch and a patch into a field. Lo the speck become the earth and the earth become the speck!\n\nThen again I asks am I this crown or is the crown me? I may remove the crown but it's indentions remain. Might I also remove my arms and legs to descend the labyrinth of genealogies and parlay with monkeys? I may certainly withhold the treasury so that instead of bananas an index and thumb finger extend to remove lice, but then what is a monkey of wealth if not an act of a circus? \n\nIf I am king I am nothing without a crown. \n\nI cannot be a wealthy peasant either. \n\nThere is honour in peasantry but not in the man who squanders wealth and shuns responsibility! There is something to say about a wilful beggar; he'll say, feed the poor! \n\nSay, look down and feed the poor, not forgetting to first dust off your feet!\n\nYes, kiss the tops of their heads to taste where you've been and whether your soles are sweet or sour or bitter or salted! \n\nWho am I? A king! I am a king because I am not a peasant, and they peasants for I am king. To be a diver picking conch shells is not to become a conch shell, and this is how the kings despair; it is just as if the sun and moon would to be eternal lovers - the sun chasing the eternal night of the moons abode. ", "\"But I am the King!\" The man bellowed at the locked gate rattling under the blows of his fist. \n\"Prove it.\" \n\"Just look at me! I am the king!\" The Guard, unimpressed at the figure in front of the gate, sniffed. \n\"No you're not. The King's taller.\" \nThe exasperated would-be king sighed, and turned to the woman behind him. She raised an eyebrow, and smiled patiently at the guy before her. \n\"Never mind, husband. Shall we go home?\" Her husband stared. \n\"We are home. At least, we would be if I could get passed my own blasted guard.\" A thought got him. \n\"Guard! Go get Samuel at once!\" \n\"Who?\" The Guard, bored of the madman in front of him, picked his nose. \n\"Samuel! You know, the King's Advisor?!?\" \n\"Can't.\" The Guard, tiring of the left nostril, started mining the right. \n\"And why, pray tell me, can you not?\" The King drew himself up in noble outrage. \n\"Because, oh princely pretender\" the guard, ill-versed in upper Nobility, was well versed in sarcasm \"he's busy. The King ran off two months ago. Probably chasing some princess tail. Sir Samuel is organising a search party. And he doesn't need some uppity twit going around shouting he's some lost scion of royalty. God knows the Old King created enough of those.\" The monarch flushed with family shame for his Grandfather's actions. His wife patted his arm. \n\"Never mind. Come on home, I'll make you some sausages and mash.\" Leading the crestfallen Crowned Prince of the land away from the seat of his power, she thought that, although it would have been nice to be a Queen, she was more than happy to be a non-noble. After all, She thought If we held a ball, they wouldn't all fit into the cottage.", "\"Where is m'lord now?\" Haversham plopped down beside the captain and nestled in between him and the next guard. Several other soldiers appeared while the first shift slinked away from their perch above the sleepy town for a rest in the campsite across the river.\n\nThe captain weary, but awake, aimed his looking glass at the town center. \"He has done little more than beg in the square today. I can still see him.\"\n\nBlake, to the captain's right, asked, \"Any good ladies so far?\"\n\nBy the stench of Blake's breathe, and his brown, toothy grin, the captain could only assume the question was lurid in nature.\n\n\"None as of yet.\"\n\n\"Talked to that widow farmer again though, didn't he?\" one of the departing guards called over his shoulder, then made romantic gestures with the air. The laughter of the departing shift faded, and the sunlight grew dim.\n\nHaversham uncorked a bottle of stale water and handed it and some crusty bread to the captain. He in turned handed Haversham the looking glass in an awkward close-quarters juggling act. The bread, although cold in his hands, tastes like the finest of cakes as the captain ripped away a piece between his teeth. He had grown quite hungry in his ten day watch of the lonely king. But if the king chose to sleep in the square, perhaps the captain could steal away to his tent for a few much needed hours of--\n\n\"He's moving!\" Haversham, with the looking glass pressed to his eye, pointed toward the town. \"He's heading away from us!\"\n\nThe captain, Haversham, Blake and the two other guards -- Finley and Williams -- crawled away from their hilltop perch and sprinted down to the town road. They dusted off their cloaks and brushed the twigs from their beards, then walked as calmly as possible into the town. Dressed as merchants or perhaps tradesmen, they did their best to look unsuspicious, but -- what with their cart having lost a wheel and Blake having lost their woodworker sundries in the river -- they appeared more like five soldiers pretending to not be suspiciously ambling into a quiet town at night.\n\n\"This way,\" Haversham said, jabbing a dirty thumb toward the alleyway. In the alley, they resumed their sprint until Haversham held up a hand to stop them. They had reached the eastern edge of town, and across the fallow cornfield, they could see the good lord ambling down the road.\n\n\"He's headed for the cottage!\" Blake whispered in the captain's ear. The captain swatted him away.\n\n\"How will we see him in there?\" Williams asked.\n\n\"We will,\" the captain hesitated, \"I will have to follow.\"\n\nThe captain walked out of the alleyway, his heart pounding and sweat beading on his head and palms. He tried to casually walk toward the eastern road. When he reached the eastern road, he glanced back at the alleyway to see if the men had dispersed, but instead, he saw them -- Haversham, Williams, Blake, and Finley -- walking single file behind him.\n\n\"What in heavens are you doing?\"\n\nHaversham, looked behind himself and then back at the captain. \"You mean, the mission?\"\n\n\"Oh the Lord's angry blue balls, seperate! You're marching in a damn formation! Why are you even following me? Hide somewhere!\"\n\nHaversham waved an arm towards the acres of fallow field. \"Under the dirt? There's nowhere to hide.\"\n\n\"Well, at least separate, damn it. Don't walk single file!\"\n\nAhead of them, they heard the cottage door open, and the five soldiers dove into the roadside ditch. In the candlelight, an older woman held the door open and her gentle, grandmotherly, \"Come in\" carried out to the spying soldiers.\n\n\"Well, at least she's age appropriate,\" Blake said at near full volume. The captain spun around, his eyes so wide and angry he barely had space left for a nose on his face.\n\nThe king walked in, the door shut, and the soldiers clambered back onto the road. They walked slowly, the captain setting the pace, as he tried to figure out how to best observe and protect the king without interfering with his courtship. He had only one plan in mind, and it was a terrible one, but it was the only one.\n\nAs they reached the fenced outskirts of the cottage, the captain turned to his men: \"Here is my plan, I will -- oh heavens, strike me dead. What are you doing!?\" The men, standing two-by-two, looked at each other. \"You're in a damn formation again! Didn't I say--\"\n\n\"No single file,\" said Finley as he pointed at Blake, standing next to him.\n\n\"I didn't even notice we were walking like this,\" Williams said.\n\nThe captain reach for his sword only to be reminded that he was dressed like a merchant and that he had sold their cachet of daggers in a desperate effort to look like legitimate merchants in the last town.\n\n\"If you truly love me, God the father--\" the captain looked at the sky as he prayed in exasperation \"--kill either these men or me. I leave it to you in your divine wisdom to choose, m'lord. But act quickly, m'lord.\"\n\nBlake pointed at the house, \"What is your plan, captain?\"\n\n\"I will knock on the door and act as a weary traveler.\" He jerked a thumb toward the stables. \"You will hide, out of sight, until I call the sign, at which point you will charge the building, swords drawn--\"\n\n\"We don't have swords,\" Blake said. Finley pointed at Blake and nodded.\n\n\"Then, wield what weapons you find. Hoes, shovels, dung -- I do not care.\"\n\n\"She is opening the door,\" Williams said, pointing at the woman standing in the doorway.\n\n\"Oh, madam!\" the captain said, marching towards the cottage. \"May I introduce myself. I am Sir Lionel of Duchessville. I am but a weary traveler, ten days into my travels, and I would greatly appreciate a room at your inn -- for I assume it is as much, rather, that is to say, I assume this is an inn for I saw a goodly beggar just now enter your establishment -- I espied him from a distance down the road -- and I assume this must be some manner of rest for weary travelers, perhaps if not an inn than at least a resting place for the weary and the good hearted.\"\n\nThe captain couldn't remember what he said or whether or not if he had even asked if he could come in. His head was pounding, but her dumb silence worried him. However, she spoke before he could draw another much-needed breath.\n\n\"But who are those men?\" She pointed at the soldiers, standing single-file, on the road.\n\nThe captain discreetly waved for them to leave, and then turned to the woman. \"They are but travelers, ruffians perhaps. I do not know. If you perchance heard me talking with them -- is that why you ask? Did you hear me talking with them? None-the-matter, I was merely talking with them, attempting to ply my trade, as it were. I am a merchant, of course, and there is no sunset on the merchant's work. They are leaving, passing through perhaps, ah yes, there they go.\"\n\nAs the captain spoke, the king appeared over the woman's shoulder. Anger burned in the king's eyes. He drew a finger across his throat and mouthed, \"Yes, you.\"\n\n\"What were you going to sell them? You have no--\"\n\nThe four soldiers ambled single-file down the road a few steps, then off the road, and toward her stables.\n\n\"Where are they going?\" she asked.\n\nThe captain looked over his shoulder at the men as they slid open the stable door and began to walk inside. He nearly fainted. He worried the woman would see the sickly green hue to his face, but she did not notice as she was still staring, mouth agape, at the soldiers entering her barn. Behind her, the king rubbed his wrinkled forehead then angrily combed his fingers through his beard.\n\nThe captain, almost too terrified to look, took one last glance at the stable. He could see Blake, only half hidden by the door, arming himself with a shovel, testing its weight, and then peaking out the door.\n\n\"Oh! She's watching us!\" he whispered too loudly and then disappeared. The stable doors creaked shut.\n\n\"Aha, the strangeness of the night!\" the captain said, his hands opened in a pleading gesture. \"Isn't the world full of such strange mysteries? One can never know what the night will bring some times. Mystery travelers in the stablehouse. Merchants at the door. M'lord at the dinner, er, I mean -- CAAAAHHH!!! CAAAHHHH!!! CAAAHHH!!!\"\n\nThe four soldiers burst from the stable holding their weapons at the ready -- Blake his shovel, Haversham the looking glass, Williams a bundle of straw, and Finley two horse shoes. They ran towards the captain, but the captain ran towards the road. They followed, and the five charged down the road two-by-two, Finley yelling, \"Retreat!\"\n\n\"If you can love me around them,\" the king said, \"then you can be my queen.\"", "The table was laid with an earthenware bowl. Inside it were cooked razor clams, baked with fresh tomatoes until their skin had split and the juices had leaked out, mingling with the salt-clean smell of the clams. Beside it were two loaves of spelt bread, steam still rising from their surface and a curl of butter soft as a dove's wing rested on a white dish, flakes of rock salt already beginning to dissolve into it. \n\n\nMagnar reached forward a hand for the butter and found it slapped away by the grim little lady who had found him three hours ago on the dusty road, thirsting for wine and half-famished from hunger. \n\n\n\"Not yet,\" she groused. \"We wait.\" \n\n\n\"What for, old woman?\" Magnar asked. He was still tired, and hungry. His feet ached. She had thrown away the foot rags he wore and provided him with a pair of worn-out felt shoes. If he had still been at court, he would have been brought quail's eggs and flaked fish; peas soft-cooked pork before he had even thought to ask. Now his head was bare and his neck burned by the sun. His nails had dirt beneath and his clothes were ragged. Only the linen belt about his waist stopped the too-loose breeches from falling down. \n\n\n\"Hands,\" she replied, jerking her head to the ewer that stood by the back door of the tiny two-roomed cottage. \n\n\nThe King did as he was told, running his hands under the cold water as she poured, but he could not take his eyes from the table. If they did not start soon, the bread would grow cold and the tomatoes would not be as good. His mouth watered. \n\n\n\"Can I sit yet?\" Magnar asked. The woman sucked on her teeth and nodded. She sat down opposite him and clenched her hands together. Above her head dried chilis swung beside a brace of rabbits, lifeless eyes staring straight at the King. Two trouts were filleted beside the window, and garlic bulbs and onions were twined above the fireplace. But all evidence of food paled in comparison to the herbs: rosemary, sage, thyme and sorrel rested side by side in witch's bundles, tied up next to the switch broom the old woman used to sweep her cottage with. \n\n\nHe thought about reaching for the bread again, but the old woman broke her prayer and stared at him with little, beady eyes. \n\n\n\"Tomorrow, you dig my field,\" she said. \"I am old and cannot work the plough.\" \n\n\nMagnar considered refusing, but it was something a peasant would not have the luxury to do. \"I will,\" he promised. \"Can we eat now?\" \n\n\n\"Grandmother!\" A voice came from the doorway and both the King and the old woman looked up. A girl moved towards them, hair falling down from the handkerchief that was knotted to keep it away. It was a deep, chestnut brown and the girl's face was tanned from the sun. She had muscles in her arms and her hands were strong. She grinned at their guest, dropped a kiss on her grandmother's cheek and slid onto the bench beside Magnar. \n\n\n\n\"Now,\" the old woman said. \"We may eat.\" \n\n\nBut the King was transfixed by the girl's blue eyes, the shade of her hair and the strength in her arms. He decided to plough every field the old woman should set before him, and break bread at her table every night, until he might be able to prove himself worthy to the girl that sat beside him. \n\n\n" ]	4
	[WP] Sometimes they called her a traitor, or a liar, or a thief. She denied nothing because maybe she was.	[ "To the select few who could perceive her, she was white. She was white as a mix of all the colours of light, white like clean slates or a glimmer of hope. \n\nAs long as you have Time, you can make a change. \n\nTo balance against the white of her form, she wore lipstick that was fresh and red, and hair that was young, black and flowing. Often, she was barefoot like she wanted to dance right there and then. \n\nAlmost never was she found alone. She had made a habit out of following her companion everywhere he goes. And he couldn’t be more of an opposite than her. And he couldn’t be more similar. \n\nA figure of aged grey that was originally black, a figure who was used to tussles and has been assaulted to some extent by all that he approached. He took, unrelenting and without reason other than the fact that it was right. Fairness was not part of the equation, but Death knew when a life should be taken. \n\nHe also found it amusing (not that he showed it in any way) that he was widely perceived as an absolute to be feared and to be obeyed. In contrast, she took the rap despite all her compassion and care for those who walked with her. They called her traitor, liar or thief. She didn’t concern herself with the immaturity of her children. Instead she hardly blinked as they slipped away from her. She kept watch. \n\n\n\n---\n\nI am building the Rift-Edoras universe, prompt by prompt. Second drafts eventually go [here](https://fivenswrite.wordpress.com).", "The whispers came as they always did. The people in the street nudged each other, signalling with their eyes as the approaching figure passed by. Some would pull their children away from the road; as though she could snatch them up as easily as pebbles. \n\nBut children and pebbles remained untouched. She passed as she always did, dressed in the same long woollen coat; the grey material wrapped around her tightly. Each tarnished button slowly falling off as time went on. The threads worn away from use. \n\nIgnoring the summer heat and the parting crowd her expression never changed. Identical clockwork strides, marching towards the wide gaping mouth of the towns gates. Or at least where the gates used to be. The only movement she couldn’t control was her dark hair, pulled back into a tight braided ponytail.\n\nIt would sway like an animals tail. But certainly not like a pony. Her meticulous steps were more like a big cat. Each movement purposeful and delicate. Yet an undercurrent of power made those same movements tense to watch. For one day the big cat might decide to pounce. \n\nA collective sigh was ushered as she passed through the opening and out into the fields beyond the walls. She wouldn't return till sundown. Now the whispers would become words. Loud, angry words that held bitterness and fear. And for some, regret. The loudest would demand they get rid of her. Cast her out of the town for good. But like so many others who demand so much action, they would be the first to slip indoors as night fell. And hidden behind curtains would wait for that lone figure to pass by again before relaxing at their fireside. \n\nIf you had the inclination you might have watched her journey from the bell tower. The grey coat weaving between the trees beyond the fields. And, if blessed with good eyesight, just might have see a flash of movement on the river bridge before loosing sight of her as she travelled on towards the higher land. \n\nThe hill held many stones. Most were just slabs of broken rock with the most basic scratchings on them. There had been no time for words. Or sometimes sentiment. Most were just numbers. Names were lost along with the dead. Simple markers but the meaning behind each one she knew by heart. \n\nShe walked on. \n\nClimbing higher she reached the hill top. Flanked by trees that were slowly shedding their flowers she sat beside a small white rock. This one held a name. She had seen to that herself. And, unseen, cried for the past. And for the woman she had once been.", "She was the most beautiful woman I've ever seen. I've always been a pessimist but the sight of her that night was the most beautiful thing I have ever witnessed. Her long hair swishing through the wind as she swung that gut punch, winding a man twice her size, wielding a knife might I add.\n\nIt all started with the death of my father. They tell me it was an accident, but I know what happened. When he was working in the garage, the car crushed his head. As a skilled mechanic, with almost 30 years of experience, this seemed unlike my father, who was, in my eyes, the best mechanic I have ever seen. I mean, he taught me all I know and it's how I make a living. The Hewitt's killed him.\n\nNow, the Hewitt's owned everything in Muerto Bay. One of their sons, Spencer Hewitt, was around my age and has always been my enemy for as long as I can remember, way back when I was around 10 years old. The Hewitt's were downright psychotic and Muerto Bay was their playground of utter mayhem. The parents, Belinda and Carmine, ran an oil drilling business, which easily made them a fortune. Spencer killed my father. I know he did. One of the few things his family didn't own was my fathers property, which he always wanted. He begged, pleaded, threatened and even smashed up the garage with his hired men, but my father never budged. Last week, Spencer pushed him too far by smashing my mothers urn. My father snapped and punched him right in the face, almost smashing his buck teeth clean off his face. As he left, he was screaming all sorts of death threats. That's how I know.\n\nAfter the funeral, I went to Franco's bar. I always did after anything happens. Franco's was a grimy dive bar, owned by an old Puerto-Rican man, Franco. Franco kept passing along free drinks after hearing the news of my fathers death, I appreciated it, but all I could think about were the Hewitt's. About how I could get back at them. I'm not a vengeful soul, nor a wrathful one, but all I could think about was how I was going to make them pay. \n\nAfter leaving, I decide to stumble home. Until I got cornered by some of his 'goons'. I was filled with rage and hatred, but I was frozen. I kept taking blow after blow to my face. I felt like I could just fucking die there and then.\n\nThat's when she came along.\n\nA young woman with tied up blonde hair, wearing a red leather jacket came running over, pushing off the one guy smacking me around. One of the others decided to throw a punch her way, to which she calmly avoided and proceeded to gut punch this enormous man. I sat there, beaten and wide-eyed at what I was seeing. It almost made me forget about everything that had happened.\n\nAll I could see was a complete one sided attack. The woman moved from man to man, injuring them and beating them up as if they were ragdolls. She moved like the wind, my eyes could barely keep track of her speed. Shit.\n\nAs she managed to floor the last man and punch his face continuously, one of them got up and decided to surprise her. They weren't counting on me.\n\nI tackled him. And I punched. I just kept punching over and over. I couldn't stop. Blood on my fists, my face, as I just kept pounding up and down. Until I heard her speak.\n\n'You might wanna stop there chief', I heard this thick French accent from behind me say in a calming voice.\n\nI turned around as she lit a cigarette and pulled me up.\n\nWith her arm around my shoulder, she took me home. And this was just the beginning of Margot and I's relationship. " ]	3
	[WP] You are alone with Barack Obama and decide to ask him if, regarding his presidential career, he would do it again if he could? His answer is: "Hell no, but what I'm about to tell you may never leave this room."	[ "\"Hell no, but what I'm about to tell you may never leave this room.\"\n\n\"Sir?\"\n\nI'm a freelance journalist, and I'm currently interviewing the incumbent President of the United States, Barack Obama.\n\n...\n\nI know, right? I screamed like a girl when I got a call from his advisers after he'd read my satiric article on what a third term Obama presidency would do for our country. I left a little note at the bottom of the article, stating that it would be cool to get an interview with the President and ask him some questions.\n\nIt went viral, and it turns out he thought it was funny. So here I am, sitting in an interrogation-esque room with the President.\n\nOh Christ, I'm going to get the giggles. I've gotta keep my composure, this might be big, what he's about to say. I lean forwards in my chair and he does the same.\n\n\"No President has ever, ever wanted to do a third term. FDR must've had a stick up his ass to want to do more than two, I swear.\"\n\nHe's talked like this the whole interview. It's kind of unsettling, but it's nice when the face of America speaks like an everyday American.\n\n\"What's so bad about the third term?\"\n\nHe leans back in the chair and folds his arms.\n\n\"It's not so much the third term as it is the unbearable nature of the job. After my first term, I still had my mind in the right place. I was doing this for the country.\"\n\nHe pauses.\n\n\"Now, I just want some time. Freedom to do the things I want! Isn't that our right? Nobody wants bodyguards crawling all over them, they creep me out more than an assassin would, to be honest.\"\n\nHe leans forward again and lowers his voice, slowing down.\n\n\"The reason the Twenty-second Amendment exists is so that we don't end up in the loony bin. The reason FDR got the hemmorhage? Job pressure. He was just good at hiding it. We all have to be, it's part of the job description.\"\n\nI stare at him as he stands up. He's wearing a tracksuit, which was hard not to laugh at originally but given the seriousness of what he was saying, I was still as a stone. He puts his hand on the table and points at me with the other.\n\n\"This never happened. If you have to write anything, tell them that I have dreams about sitting in other people's kitchens naked and doing crossword puzzles. Or something. This is our secret, kid, spill it and the secret service will be on your ass in a millisecond. Now, if you excuse me, I have a yoga class to get to.\"\n\n----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------\nI'm not American, so if I made any obnoxious errors, apologies\n\nOther than that, hope you like the story! Feedback would be appreciated!\n\n" ]	1
	[WP] Murder is legal if you use a wiffle bat	[ "The Colombian sat at a cafe table across from his associate, The Russian.\n\n\"Tell me the plan one more time.\" Said The Colombian \"I really cannot understand.\"\n\n\"Well basically, we have a friend who owes us money. And the friend won't pay up. I say you give him a visit, and show his friends how we deal.\" Explained The Russian.\n\n\"I told you already, Rasputin! I've left that life behind me. I've worked to clean my slate, and i'm keeping it clean.\" The Colombian said angrily.\n\nThe Russian just scoffs and replies, \"That's the beauty. A new law was passed. Murder is legal.\"\n\n\"Murder is legal?\" The Colombian repeated, confused.\n\n\"Murder is legal... if you do it with a wiffle ball bat.\" The Russian explained.\n\n\"A... wiffle bat? Sorry if my english is wrong, but you mean a plastic bat?\" The Colombian asked, fearing his comrade's answer.\n\nThe Russian just nods, and hands The Colombian a duffel bag from under the table. The Colombian opens it, and pulls out a plastic baseball bat.\n\n\"In the words of my late grandmother, you've got to be shitting me.\" Said The Colombian, inspecting the bat.\n\n\"Just do it, Friend.\" Said The Russian slowly.\n\nThe Colombian puts the bat away and slowly walks to his car. He starts the old piece of junk. After a second, the car roars into life, and The Colombian tears down the street. In less than no time, The Colombian makes it to the house, wiffle bat in tow. \n\nHe sits for hours. Waiting. And waiting. And waiting for the target to leave his house. After a while he does. The mark is a young looking man, in a suit that he probably didn't earn, judging by the fact the suit was worth more than his house.\n\nThe Colombian gets out of his car, and waves to the man. \"Hello, Friend!\"\n\nThe man just keeps walking, and The Colombian just grumbles. The Colombian runs up to the man, and hits him in the side of the head. The man just gives him a funny look. \"That kinda hurt!\" He said.\n\n\"Sorry.\" The Colombian replied, immediately hitting the man again.\n\n\"Ow!\" The man blurts out, running down the sidewalk.\n\nThe Colombian chases the man, hitting him with the bat over and over. Eventually, the man comes to a crosswalk, and keeps running. A car can't stop in time, and takes the man to the ground. The Colombian stops, resting the bat on his shoulder. \"Well fuck.\" Says The Colombian, turning around and strolling back down the street, his slate clean. Cleaner than the crosswalk, which is now spattered with gore." ]	1
	[WP] A young Death teaches an elderly Lucifer how to send an email.	[ "\"It's utter crap. There is nothing personal about it! Whatever happened to writing in virgin blood on a parchment made from Hitler's back skin? I mean, this is Hell! It grows back!\" Lucifer yelled, and ripped Hitler's back skin off to prove his point. Hitler screamed in pain, then said, \"Do it again, daddy...\" as he hung by meat hooks pierced through behind his Achilles' tendons in the corner of the Pentagram Office. \"Jesus, this guy is hopeless. I mean, he eats his own turds with gusto.\" Lucifer shook his cane at Death. \n\"Old Man, I'm tired of carting your correspondence to the other place. It gives me the creeps. You have to learn to use E-mail.\"\n\"What the s*it does that even mean? E-Mail. It sounds silly.\"\n\"Electronic Mail.\"\n\"Oh.\"\nLucifer turned to look at the ancient CRT monitor on his desk made of human spines encased in clear Epoxy resin. He smiled as he remembered his close friend Bob Vila from This Old House making it for him. \n\"Don't get distracted by the desk. The computer, Old Man.\" Death nagged, clacking his bony teeth at Lucifer. \n\"Christ, where do I even start? Technology is stupid.\" \n\"Hell has an IT system, and its own internal e-mail client; You'd know this if you listened to Chris in the staff meetings.\"\n\"Boooorrrrrinnngggg....\" Lucifer drawled. \n\"Will you please take this seriously? The future of Hell is at stake. If you don't get with the times, you may lose the election, and it will be a new Satan in the Pentagram Office.\" Death sighed and facepalmed. \n\"So I already have an E-mail address, right? I can send a message to old G-man and JC any time, right?\" Lucifer asked. \n\"Yes.\"\n\"Ok. Get me where I need to go on this contraption, and I'll try it out.\"", "\"Why the hell would I want to use an email?\" Lucifer barked for the third time, refusing to touch the computer. \n\nDeath had gotten tired of constantly being the messenger between Heaven and Hell, so he opted to teach Lucifer how to send an email. That way, in the future, he could carry on with his work without being interrupted. But Lucifer, being the bratty child he is despite his age, was reluctant and wouldn't give it a chance.\n\n\"Because,\" Death replied, pulling up Gmail, \"you've sworn against using a cellphone to text, and emailing is efficient.\"\n\nLucifer, faster than Death could comprehend, pressed the keys Alt+f4, and the window he had just opened shut, leaving Death to yell in anger at the desktop background.\n\n\"Lucifer, are you serious? Just let me show you how to do it!\" He snarled, rolling Lucifer away from the keyboard. Death was one more snarky remark away from calling Michael down to deal with his brother. Human children behaved better than he did.\n\nLucifer shook his head and crossed his arms over his chest. All he needed to do next was push his bottom lip out, and he'd be a full-blown toddler. \"Emailing is a human concept, as is the computer, and I absolutely despise those hairless apes. Sure, they're good for a few things, but I will not allow myself to fall victim to one of their inventions.\"\n\nDeath let out a humorless laugh and swung his deadly gaze onto the fallen archangel. \"You know what else is a human invention? Temper tantrums. Oh wait, sorry, I forgot, that's your invention.\"\n\nLucifer glared at him, his fingers twitching. If he were allowed to, he'd snap his fingers and turn Death to dust, but Death was a Horseman, and as such, he was required to stay. And Death knew it, so he gave Lucifer the biggest 'I win' smile that he could and faced the computer again.\n\n\"Now,\" he started, \"the first thing you need is a username.\"\n" ]	2
	[WP] You are a Nigerian prince and to save your family's life, you must give away the family fortune to somebody online.	[ "It was the end of a dynasty, the end of an era. \nAt first Prince Abioye was written off as an eccentric. 21 years old, coming into his own, experiencing an identity crisis, probably. He explored endless...hobbies. The first was carving wooden Star Wars figurines. Hundreds of them. He worked endlessly on them. Gossip papers reported that he hadn't bathed in two weeks since starting his project. When he was finished he'd take pictures, and that was that. On to the next hobby: transcribing all seven Harry potter books by hand, taking pictures of each individual page. Gallerists tried to interpret the works; some with connections to the Royal family tried to borrow them for art exhibitions but Abioye always refused outright. \"They have to be sent to Nick,\" he repeated, over and over and over. \n\"Who is Nick?\" became the headline of every paper in the country. Speculations abounded - a gay lover, an American born Nigerian gallerist, a news reporter. No body knew. \nAs the weeks went by people began to realise how long it had been since anyone else in the family had been seen by the public. When asked, Abioye shrugged it off, said they had gone on holiday. A long holiday.\n\nThe projects continued. After he had finished the Harry Potter series he set about shaving the skins off of fruits and constructing them into elaborate Nativity sets. He took pictures of these, too, and sent them abroad. \n\nAfter a month he finally lost it. He went on naked escapades around the city, taking pictures of himself engaging in various quotidian activities in the nude while a photographer followed him around. \n\nHe became the country's greatest entertainment, their biggest joke. Then one day the bodies of five royal family members - his parents, grand parents and younger sister - were thrown into the middle of the city square in the middle of the night. Abioye shot himself shortly after. \n\nThe Newspapers eventually found all the photos he had sent to \"Nick\" online: http://www.419eater.com/\n\n", "“No, no, no. It can’t be done!” I screamed, as the masked men held assault riffles in my face. The action-figure-built leader of the militia stepped forward, “You think this a game, Mr. Nigerian Prince?”\n\nI thought to myself, “Yes, clearly this is a game.” Unfortunately, my ability to handle pressure is not something that my father, The Nigerian King, has ever taught me. And, without hesitation, my mouth opened, “Yes, sir, I think this is a game—“\n\n“This is not a game!” Mr. Militia shrieked. The room of people, including myself, and my wife -- A Nigerian Princess -- our chef, and the remainder of the militia awkwardly looked at each other, as Mr. Militia’s shriek violently cracked. I felt frightened, yet embarrassed -- I think we all did. \n\nMr. Militia composed himself and remarkablely found his devilish voice once again. He held a gun to my wife’s head, “You better give your fortune away to somebody in the US, via email, otherwise you will be a Mr. Nigerian Widower.”\n\nI did not like the sound of that title. But I figured my life was over. My wife was going to be killed. My remaining family would be killed. Everything I ever known and experienced flashed before my eyes. A feeling of disgust and anger – rage and fury -- simmered on the top layer of my skin. All I said was, “I’ll send that email. But it’s not possible. The Americans never trust an email from a Nigerian Prince. Never.”\n\n___________________________________________________________________\n\n“Hunny! We have a problem!” The young American couple panicked – it’s something they have always heard about, but something they never experienced. Using their parenting skills, they harmonized perfectly, “Robert, get down here, now!”\n\nThe fifteen year old boy sat in front of his parents, “What did you do, son?” Robert looked around the room, “I’m not really sure. You tell me, guys.” \n\nThe parent’s look on their face told a simple story: they’ve heard this one too many times from their son. \n\n“You accepted a $258,459,090 check from a Nigerian Prince.” Robert was filled with excitement, “Dammit, I wanted to surprise you guys. We’re rich!” \n\nThe parent’s sighed at the stupidity of their young son, “No, Robert, it’s a scam – a scam that has gone on for longer than you have been alive.”\n\n“Guys, it’s not a scam and I have proof.” The parents curiously looked at each other. \n\n“At the bottom of the email, the Nigerian Prince said that this is not a scam! I just had to accept his fortune, and that’s it. We will receive the money within a week!”\n\n___________________________________________________________________\n\nGeorge and Linda, both fifty years old, sit in front of a large desk. George wears a suit jacket on top, and basketball shorts and flip-flops on his bottom. Linda wears something similar. \n\n“Our top story today, Linda… Well, you wouldn’t believe it.”\n\n“I still don’t believe it,” says Linda. \n\n“A fifteen year old boy will receive a Medal of Honor from the City of Ohio after he accepted a Nigerian Prince’s fortune, via email, which, for the first time in existence, was a legitimate offer.”\n\n“Incredible,” says Linda. \n\n“A militia threatened to murder the Nigerian Prince’s entire family, unless he gave away his whole fortune to a U.S. Citizen, and thankfully, the fifteen year old boy ignored all common sense and accepted the offer… Ultimately saving the Nigerian Prince and The Nigerian Prince’s family. What a brilliant young man,” says George. \n\n“It makes you wonder, though, how many Nigerian Prince’s families were killed, because of ignorant Americans who always believed that this email was a scam.” \n\n“It sure does make you wonder, Linda. Sometimes, if it looks to good to be true, it probably is, but other times, it may make you rich and save a Prince’s life. It’s a 50/50 gamble that we should all take at some point in our lives… In other news.” \n" ]	2
	[WP] The entire world is against me. It wouldn't be fair otherwise.	[ "In the middle of the night I jerk up from my nightmare, clutching at my nightstand for my glass of water. The first sip is Heaven, washing over my dried out membranes and cracked lips. The rest of the glass goes down quickly and I wind down once again amongst my pillows. I close my eyes and count my breaths, one, two, three, four, five. \n\nSomewhere below me there's the haunting shadow of a banging noise against the walls. I ignore it, block it out, close my eyes and tell myself that I'm hearing something that can't be there. \n\nThe banging continues in my dreams. \n\nThe sun wakes me. It's summer now, I'm waking at four in the morning before the birds have even begun to call. I'm getting out of bed and shuffling with my feet against the warm wooden floors, curling my toes into the hard surface and making my way into the kitchen to cook my breakfast. \n\nThe banging continues, some faint haunting ghost of a noise. I hold everything still and listen for it, unsure if it's real or in my head. To drown it out I turn on the television.\n\nIt's not my face that I see. Had they my face I would be in their custody. I would be long gone from this place and its phantom bangings and its nightmares. Sometimes I wish that they would see and know my face. Sometimes I dream of the banging on the doors. Sometimes when I take them I think of leaving something behind, some way for them to find me.\n\nThere's a number that flashes across the screen. Thirty-two, it says. My life in a number. The phantom banging is getting louder, pervading my consciousness. \n\nI'm not pleased. I need quiet to think, to function. This is not quiet. \n\nThe television speaks of all the thirty-two. It says their names. The television tells the stories that I've meticulously drawn. They speak out against me. The entire world is against me. Of course they are. Were they not, it would be blaspheme. It wouldn't be fair, it wouldn't be right. \n\nThe sound is no phantom now, no ghost. It is loud, pounding in my ears. I'm unable to deny it.\n\nI sip my coffee. \n\nNumber thirty-three will lend to silence soon enough.\n\n---\n\nThanks for reading. For other stories check out /r/Celsius232 ", "This was the 42nd time we redid the referendum. \n\nBy now, everybody was just tired with the whole thing and wanted to get it over with. \n\nIt was clear the eurocrats were not humans, but machines that would never give an inch until the outcome of the vote was right. \n\nIt was clear that all the SJWs would bully everyone into submission by flooding their facebook and twitter accounts.\n\nAs for me, I don't have social media accounts. I don't even have TV in my neck of the woods. I only know I was determined to keep voting Leave until the bitter end.\n\nThat morning, the results had all come in and the result was finally overwhelmingly in favor of the EU. So crushing was the defeat that the whole night it looked like it would be a 100% victory, even though the turnout was barely above the required 75%, many people having just given up and just decided to hide in their basements to not be rounded up to vote in the camps.\n\nHowever, one person, in one small village in Wales, the village of Llanfairpwllgwyngyllgogerychwyrndrobwllllantysiliogogogoch, had voted to leave the EU. \n\nI knew they would come for me. Even though their victory was total, they would not tolerate even a small stain on it. But I was prepared. I had stashed food, ammunitions for my AR-15, and I had mustered all my courage and resolution for this final showdown.\n\nRule Britannia! Rule the waves! Britons never will be slaves!", "\"No one is against you.\" I whispered into the phone. I tried my hardest to keep my voice level, but I could tell that panic and frustration were seeping through.\n\n\"Oh, but you are.\" Came the reply. \"That's why you're having this call traced. That's why you're trying to find me.\" His voice was so smooth, so calm, so normal. It gave me goosebumps just to listen to the way that he talked so calmly about the atrocities that he committed, but not just like it was a normal thing he was doing, rather, it was a glorious thing he was doing.\n\n\"I just don't want to see anyone else get hurt.\" I looked over at the two techies sitting behind their computers. One of them typed away furiously, the other one begged me to keep him on the line.\n\n\"That's a lie.\" His voice suddenly became angry. Not louder, just angry. \"People die everyday because of you and people like you. They die and they suffer, and no one cares. Why? Because that's the system. That's the system that you created. You think you're a protector of the people? I'm the protector of the people.\"\n\n\"Just listen--\"\n\n\"No you listen\" He interrupted, his voice as cold and hard as steel. \"You say that you're protecting us from those that lie, kill, kidnap and steal? Well, look at yourself. You're just as bad as any person you've branded as a criminal. Your soul is stained, my soul is pure. I'm the protector of the people, do you hear me?\"\n\nI was at a loss for words. What was I supposed to say? The techies made a signal to me, telling me that they had found his location.\n\n\"By now I'm sure you've locked onto my location, right? Well, it's not my location, but there is something there you might want to see. No need to rush, though, he's not going anywhere.\"\n\n\"I swear by everything I hold holy,\" I started, my anger finally taking over. \"That when I catch you, you will pay for everything you've done.\"\n\n\"You see? It's just like I said: the entire world is against. But I like it that way. It wouldn't be fair otherwise.\" And with those words, a deafening click came over the phone, leaving my entire body cold.", "What is the measure of a man, I pondered, as I ducked low and threw the left side of my body fist-first into the man's ribs. I heard the familiar crunch of bones breaking inwards as I moved behind him and held him up like a shield. Bullets killed him a moment later as the machine guns in an opposing building opened fire. I've always thought the measure of a man was what he did with his time here on this planet, and the more I create, the more I grow, the greater my worth and measure. As the room around me exploded, with wood, cement and human scattering all over the place, I jumped up through the hole in the ceiling, and felt the rumble of a tank firing its cannon, masking the shrill cry of the incoming ballistic missile.\n\nBut the problem with growing trees is that all trees must die. \"I've grown enough trees,\" I muttered. The building shook as the floor beneath me became engulfed in fire. Any moment now, that missile was going to hit, and the whole building was going to go down in flames. \n\nThe second floor was my museum of sorts. Bodies lay strewn about, men I had killed with my bare hands when they attacked me in my study. Some of the radios on their bodies chirped and voices were inquiring what the status was.\n\nI walked over to my favorite painting, \"The Great Wave Off Kanagawa\" and gazed at it. But if the greatest trees, the greatest forests, mountains, civilizations can be defeated with time and effort, how does one attain true greatness and worth? A radio broadcast on one of the bodies commanded all personnel to evacuate the building. \n\nI pulled the painting down and sighed as I stepped through. The secret passageway led up to the roof, where I was sure the helicopters with their guns would be waiting. I stopped by my armory, and glanced at the wall of weapons. A 16th century European fencing saber. Too bulky. A roman legionnaire sword. Too short. A rebar bo staff. Now that would be interesting.\n\nThen the missile hit. I felt it in my spine before my ears registered the enormous boom. The building was going to go down soon. Oh well. It was only a matter of time. You either die a hero, or live long enough to become the villain. And my home was a monolith of my villainy to them. I folded my arms across my chest and looked up at the ceiling. Maybe that was the key. Maybe the measure of a man isn't what he creates, but rather, what he can destroy. And if I can destroy everything...\n\nIt clicked. I had spent my first 30 years a genomics researcher. I spent the next 20 years as the guinea pig and leader for our experiments and enhancements. And now this. Now the whole world is against me. Too much, too fast they said. It's wrong they said. But I was just growing trees. I was growing the human race. Sure, I saved some of the best stuff for myself. Sure, I'm more or less transhuman now. But so what? I never hurt anyone. Not until a few hours ago. I had spent trillions to fight the smear campaigns. But all good things must end.\n\n\"So much for prodigal son,\" I sighed. The building shook again as one of the foundation pillars broke. A clang of metal hitting the ground grabbed my attention. It was a tai chi straight sword I had received as a graduation gift from my parents. I smiled and picked it up. \"Unto dust...\" I whispered, as I strode towards a window. Helicopters were circling, and some were level with me, on the 80th floor in Midtown, Manhattan. Far below the avenues and streets were lined with tanks and vehicles with very large guns, all pointing in my general direction. Beyond them, billions of people around the world, who had overnight become healthy, smart, and physically resilient to Mother Nature were all gunning for me, for what I had created. Evolution, elevation. Greatness. Worth. We could have had it all, I thought, as I kicked the glass. It exploded outwards, and machine guns, tank cannons, missiles of both the ground and air variety opened fire towards me.\n\nI smiled, as I swan-dived out of my haven, and into the fire.", "We're all in this great big coliseum. I'm in the centre and the rest of the world is around me. They stare at me with vile eyes, none of them speak, they just stare and breath through the tubes plugged in through their mouths. \n\nThe tubes are hooked to a machine above, which whirrs and booms in intervals. It's a massive light bulb that's suspended over the coliseum. I designed it and they all need it. But still, they look at me with hate instead of appreciation. \n\nI look from side to side. Waiting until one of them is brave enough to try me. None of them do, though. They're consumed by my product. \n\nCan you imagine sharing an oxygen tank with billions of others? Each inhalation comes equipped with the putrid hot taste of another person's mouth. It's the only way I could design the machine with one bulb and enough oxygen to keep everyone in the world alive. \n\nThat's why they hate me though. They forget that I saved them all. They only wonder why I didn't give them a bulb each. \n\nAnd so I sit paranoid in the middle of them all, wondering who will risk their life to steal my air. It's happened before. The bodies are strewn amongst the living. They seem to forget that I'm operation man, the technician. \n\nI have my own bulb, you see, a bulb with the last tree in the world. Each breath I take brings a smile to my face. It's fresh, pure, oxygen. Sometimes I can even smell the aroma of apples.\n\nThey forget the countless hours I wilted away to enjoy this sensation. The knowledge that I then shared with them so that they too could make it. It's only right I have my own fresh air bulb. \n\nIt wouldn't be fair otherwise. \n\n", "He sat on the edge of a rooftop peering over the bustling city.\n\nMetropolis, he thought, who was the dumb ass who named a literal metropolis Metropolis. He covered his face with his hands and began to shake his head in disdain. \n\nHe stood there for a long while as the Sun the set. He waited until darkness came, and the lights of the city turned on. He knew it was only a matter of time now. He just had to wait. Even with super senses, Bruce had a knack for sneaking up on him. He would have been worried about a sneak attack, but at this point, they both knew it was pointless. They could beat each other bloody, but they would never actually kill each other. \n\nNo, this was not the time for attack; this was the time for talk. \n\n\"Clark,\" a voice emanated from the shadows. Clark rose from the ledge. He turned around. To normal eyes his friend Bruce would have been all but invisible in those shadows, but Clark could see everything.\n\n\"Hey Bruce, really downgraded your stealth tech today, haven't you?\"\n\n\"Just a normal suit tonight Clark. I just want to talk.\"\n\nClark nodded, he was sporting just jeans and t-shirt. He sat back down and padded on the ledge next to him. Bruce took a seat, and they looked over the city together. After a while Bruce stood and spoke.\n\n\"Clark, everyone is going to be coming for you. Not the police, and the armies, and the governments. I am talking about everyone. The entire League and every hero known to mankind. Even some of the villains are joining 'The Hunt For Superman'.\"\n\nClark stayed sitting in silence for a while longer. The whir of a helicopter going by and the traffic below was all that could be heard. \n\nClark looked up at his friend, \"Bruce, why do you think I took the name Superman?\"\n\nBruce's face was inscrutable, as it usually was. He remained silent, knowing that this question was rhetorical.\n\n\"People call me a god. They say I can do anything, but they're wrong. The name Superman -- I might be super, but I am still just a man. One man, and I can only stand so much.\"\n\nBruce shook his head, \"you know that doesn't excuse what you did. Clark, you killed people, a lot of people.\"\n\n\"I know.\"\n\n\"Clark, a lot of those people were innocent. You attacked every government center across the world. Everyone thinks you lost your mind.\"\n\n\"It was the only way Bruce. Everyday I hear them dying, I hear their pain, and all the while these people sit in their offices, mansions, and palaces. They sit on their thrones and throw lives away like they were last weeks trash. I can only stand so much...I had to stop it.\"\n\nBruce sighed and sat back down. \"Clark, you know why we have a code. Any one of us could topple governments, and assert control in the name of the greater good. But we don't, because robbing people of freedom is too great a loss.\"\n\n\"Bruce, you say that because you can't hear them die. I am not trying to take away the freedom of the people, but I will no longer sit back and allow humanity tear itself apart.\"\n\nBruce sat back down. \"Well...that was refreshing. Did that make you feel better? Maybe we should try group therapy next time, hmmmmm?\"\n\nClark laughed. He laughed so hard his body shook. \"Yeah, maybe...we can invite Diana and J'onn...that is unless we kill each other first.\"\n\nBruce, \"That isn't funny Clark. You know that aside from you, those two are comparable to you in strength. with both of them and the rest of League against you, you could die.\"\n\n\"Bruce, the League? The entire world is against me, it wouldn't be fair otherwise.\"\n\nBruce pondered those words, and he knew them to be true. J'onn and Diana were powerful...Heck, Diana was a demigod. But Superman was impossible; he had done the impossible, moving planets and tearing apart reality with sheer strength. Even the laws of nature were torn asunder by Superman. Bruce knew it would take everyone to bring Superman in.\n\nHowever, Bruce's reverie was interrupted. \"So, will you join them?\"\n\nBruce turned to Clark, \"No, not this time.\"\n\n\"They will need you. Technically speaking, you are the only one other than Diana who ever really 'beat me'. They say with enough preparation, you could beat anyone.\"\n\n\"Like you said, I am just a man, and like you said again, we have already done this dance...I think it is time for us to move on. You are right Clark, I cannot hear the people dying, and I don't agree with what you did. But, people are dying, and being a 'hero' might not be enough anymore.\"\n\n\"Well...I appreciate that Bruce, but I think we have been on this rooftop a tad too long.\"\n\nBruce smiled, \"That's true...every satellite in the world is tracking you, and you must have noticed that there are at least seven other people hiding on this roof now...and...I think, 1, 2, 3...\"\n\n\"5, 5 snipers in the adjacent buildings,\" Clark smiled.\n\n\"I guess that is my cue to leave,\" Bruce's fine suit shimmered for a moment revealing an armored batsuit. \"And you thought I had downgraded my stealth tech...good to know I can still pull one up on you.\"\n\nHe dove off the roof, and disappeared into the night. A shout came out of the shadows and several SWAT members came out with automatic weapons, several shots were fired. Bruce knew no one would bother chasing him, but he remained hidden within the shadows anyway. He could hear the fighting even after getting miles away. He knew it was pointless.\n\nKryptonite bullets, he laughed. Superman wouldn't have started this war if he hadn't found a way to remedy his Achilles tendon. Heck, Batman had figured out a hundred ways to remove Superman's one weakness using his Wayne Industries technology. With the Fortress of Solitude and Kryptonian technology, Superman could have fixed it at anytime. Bruce knew he chose not to, because he needed wanted a way to be stopped, a way to keep himself in line. But not anymore.", "“Stop him!” A short black haired Asian girl cried out, whipping her arm forward and launching an array of golden knives. “He’s about to reach the tower!”\n\nCling! Cling! Cling!\n\nThe sharp metallic sound of knives being shot out of the air rang through the heat-hazed arena, sending out sound waves that reverberated almost painfully in the heads of those chasing a lithe dark haired boy. \n\n“He’s too god damn fast, it ain’t even human how he’s shooting everything down!” growled a cowboy-hatted gunman, firing off a round of bullets from his subatomic handgun. \n\nCling! Cling! Cling!\n\n“Is zer even a point to zis anymore?” A man in a beret sighed, with his musket not even drawn. “I zink ve might as vell give vup! ‘e cannot be touched!” \n\n“The ‘Untouchable’ marksman, huh?” A blonde haired boy said, smile not quite reaching his eyes. “He might be the ‘Untouchable’, but he isn’t the ‘Unpredictable’! Let’s keep going!”\n\nCling! Cling! Cling!\n\n------------------------------\nUnmatched.\n\nUnrivalled.\n\nUntouchable.\n\nGod.\n\nThese were a few of the names that they called Alexander Alcander. \n\n\nThe annual world-championships for the Cyber-Ring, a sport that had taken the world by storm over 20 years ago had just begun. The Cyber-Ring was a fighting sport, much like boxing. However, it took place in Virtual Reality, and the Athletes were armed with any weapon they could carry. A modern day Gladiator ring. \n\nAlexander had only been the champion for the last 2 years. But there was no one that doubted he was the champion. He held an uncontested first place in the world leaderboard online, and all doubters of his legitimacy were utterly silenced when he won his first championship. \n\nWhile many fighters took normally wore body armor and guns, Alexander’s weapon was the bow.\n\nA seemingly laughable weapon when anyone could don a plate of armor and simply ignore the flimsy arrows supplied by the game.\n\nNo one laughs anymore.\n\nThey learnt that they cannot ignore Alexander Alcander’s Arrows. \n\n---------------------------\n\nFor two years in a row, Alexander dominated the massive battle field that was “The Ring”, a ground segmented into four different areas – desert, forest, grassland, and a city-state area. In the center of them all was a gigantic tower that oversaw the entire land. And for two years in a row, Alexander made a bee line for the long, spiraling tower that reached into the sky. And each time, he climbed to the top and made use of the limitless ammo that ranged weapons provided, eliminating the competition in droves. \n\nAfter he won his first championship, the popularity of the bow picked up, but no one could match Alexander’s skill. Even if they made it to the top of the tower, they could not shoot their arrows as far as Alexander could. Not even the strongest sniper rifle could match his range. \n\nThey could not even call him a hacker, as he had already shown up in person many times to don tournament regulated headgear and hardware. They were all simply outclassed. To make matters worse, he had not yet lost a single hit point in competitive matches. \n\nWhich is why, in the 3rd year that Alexander competed in the world tournament, the representatives from each country banded together as an army to take out Alexander. They did not form eastern or western alliances this year – that was worthless against Alexander. Every single representative gave their absolute agreement to the alliance. \n\nThere were no egos when fighting against Alexander. There was simply no room for that. Without absolute and total teamwork, they could not defeat the Absolute and Total Champion.\n\nAnd for the first time in 3 years, Alexander Alcander paused.\n\n“Looks like yer time is up, Alex.” The cowboy grinned from behind Alexander. \n\n“Y-yez, vat could you possibly do now!” Sputtered the Frenchman, drawing his musket and whirling it in a flourish at Alexander.\n\nStanding before Alexander and the tower were the representatives. \n\nAll of them. \n\nThey came out one by one from the sand, from behind the trees, from their trenches in the grass lands, and rooftops of the city. They had waited for him to close in on the destination that allowed him to secure his absolute victory for 2 years running, and baited him into a trap. When he got close enough, they slowly but surely closed in around him. No one stood too close. No one blinked. \n\nBut all of them pointed a gun at Alexander Alcander. \n\nAlexander Alcander looked up to the heavens, closing his eyes.\n\n-------------------------------\n\nA rustling of whispers tore through both the contestants and the audience at the world Cyber Ring Centre. Was he giving up? The unstoppable, untouchable champion?\n\n“I always knew he was no good,” sneered a beer bellied man in the audience, stuffing popcorn into his mouth.\n\n“This is the end of a legend, huh?” sighed a brown haired reporter, aiming his camera at the massive 4 screen display in the Centre. “Well, this will make good headlines tomorrow at least.”\n\n“Don’t take him lightly! We don’t know what he’s planning!” shouted the black haired Asian girl, who had abandoned her knives for a sub-machine gun, that had somehow been hidden somewhere in her tight red dress.\n\n“It’s fine, it’s fine!” laughed a rather tall hatted man with crooked teeth. “There’s nothing more he can do! He’s surrounded by the best of the best!” \n\nA murmur of agreement rang out through the representatives. What could Alexander possibly do in this situation? They had him surrounded after all. And, despite how dominating Alexander was the previous two years, this year they had him completely surrounded by the best of the best from every country! They had their own pride too. If they were still scared of Alexander in this situation, how could they possibly go back to their homelands with their heads held high?\n\n“Let’s get this over with then,” the blonde haired boy said, frowning slightly. “This- this was less climatic than I thought it would be; but - but I guess there’s nothing even you can do when all of us work together.\"\n\n\"I suppose this is goodbye, ‘The Untouchable God’.”\n\n“--Goodbye, Alexander Alcander.” \n\n---------------------------------\n\nBang! Bang! Bang! Bang!\n\nBANG!\n\n“Keep firing!” Shouted the black haired girl, furiously holding down her trigger and squinting into the massive dust cloud that formed, “Don’t stop until the announcement that he’s been eliminated!”\n\nThe representatives from each country kept firing and firing, to the point where their hands were numb.\n\nBang! Bang! Bang! Bang!\n\nBut something was wrong. They had been firing for a full minute, and there was no announcement of the elimination of Alexander’s character.\n\nCling.\n\nThe eyes of the blonde haired boy, who was standing closest to the dust cloud widened. Surely not. \n\nCling.\n\nCling.\n\nCling! Cling! Cling! Cling! CLING! CLING! CLING!!!!\n\n“Stop!” He shouted, blonde hair dirty with dust. “Stop firing!”\n\nAs his message rang through to each player, their eyes widened and they went slack jacked at what they were hearing in the dust.\n\nCling! Cling! Cling!\n\nA melodic, almost beautiful ringing sound that resonated into their heads. \n\n“No way,” breathed out the short black haired girl. “It’s…impossible.” \n\nAs the dust settled, the entire world shivered as they saw the thin, almost elfen figure of Alexander Alcander standing in their midst, completely untouched.\n\nThe only difference was that Alexander held a thin, one handed sword in his left hand instead of his bow; with a single edged blade so sharp it could only be called beautiful. \n\nAs usual, Alexander did not say a word. Instead, he raised his sword and flashed it in the sunlight. What reflected off the ground was a sea of bullets, all cut in half perfectly down the center. \n\nThe representatives had their smiles wiped off their faces, and started inching away slowly.\n\n“Don’t run!” Yelled the blonde haired boy. “This is our best chance to take him down! Stand united!”\n\nHowever, dissention was clearly in the once unified minds of the representatives. Even if they could not be first, as long as they survived, they could at least be second place. And come to think of it, if they all gather to team up on Alexander, wouldn’t that mean they would also be in one place for him?\n\nAlexander slowly held his sword arm out, letting the sliver of a weapon drop to it’s mid point, and raised his arm, pointing it straight into the sky. Then, in a movement that everyone in the world was familiar with, he raised his other arm to the center of the blade before pulling his hand back past his chest. Almost as if…he was drawing a bowstring. \n\nThe cowboy widened his stance while the Asian girl slinked back into the forest, never turning her back to Alexander. Other representatives thought about running, but remembered that the world was watching.\n\nThe blonde hair boy gulped. There was truly no room for ego against Alexander Alcander.\n\n“Oh my god, ve are fucked.” \n\n----------------------------\n\nI'm quite new to writing, this is the second piece that I've ever \"finished\"--of course, I know this is basically just a reskin of the hunger games, plot-wise, but I'd love some feedback on this. It ended up being much longer than I intended, and I can't really reply to myself to split it up into sections since I just made my account, but I hope some of you read it anyway! How was the pacing for this? I can't tell if it's just that I'm really sleepy, but it felt like the pace was a little too fast in some areas. Also, how was the readability/writing style? Any criticism is appreciated. \n", "It was kind of quiet. The curtains around me were hanging down like a velvet waterfall, keeping me hidden from the boos and hisses of the audience. I shift to a more comfortable, relaxed position, and assume a more smug expression. I live to please after all.\n\nI tuned in to the white noise spouting out of the host of the show. She wasn't exactly ecstatic on bringing me on, at least not to the audience. In reality there would be no way she wouldn't love the idea of the viewing she would get.\n\n\"Please welcome our, um, special guest, Cal Denson, to the stage.\"\n\nThe curtains rose. I stood up, raising my arms to form a human cross, smiling from ear to ear, greeting the audience and receiving a chorus of yelling, threats, and angry screaming. I took a bow.\n\n\"Thanks for having me on, Mary.\" I said, not particularly out of gratitude.\n\n\"My name is um, Ashley...\" She stammered, caught off guard.\n\n\"Sorry,\" I mocked. \"It becomes rather difficult to remember the names of every little talk show I appear on. What was the name of this show again? Something about clicking?\"\n\n\"Chatter with Ashley Perez.\" She says, a look of disbelief of her face.\n\nIn reality I knew the name of the show, just like I knew the name of its hostess. She was a recent up-and-coming star with a rapidly growing fan base. I thoroughly researched every show I appeared on. What's my reasoning? I don't really have any. There's just something alluring about playing a villain. I've been a black sheep in my family for years, but when my small company took off in 2018 I was able to expand it to seemingly every industry and become the most public billionaire to exist in the limelight in recent years.\n\nI've played the villain in every way possible. Every public appearance of mine I have been condescending and arrogant. My company boasts no donations to any charity, of course now that I have money I do donate, but it's all anonymous. My business is ruthless towards any competition and has the closest legal equivalent to a monopoly. The worst part is, however, my company breaks no rules on any front. The biggest budget I have set is for the legal branch. We have made no mistakes. We are perfect.\n\n\"Tell me Cal, recently your Twitter post, 'Why do we still have classes for the mentally retarded?' Do you actually believe we should get rid of Special Ed?\" She inquires, aghast.\n\nI absolutely don't, but that wasn't part of my persona. I brought a briefcase into view from under my feet. \"Listen, Cindy, was it, have you ever been offered money by anyone besides your producers? I have with me 25 million dollars. Let me run the show for this episode and it's yours.\" Giving no room for debate, I sat the briefcase at her feet. She simply stared, doubt, guilt, and other emotions creeping up to form a greedy glint in her eyes.\n\n\"You there,\" I pointed to a member of the audience. \"What's your opinion of my company?\"\n\nHe said nothing for a while, until he said, \"How can you stand for the whole world to hate you?\"\n\nWhile the crowd's attention had been on me, suddenly the briefcase popped open, Ms. Perez having opened it with a guiltridden expression. Her career had just ended.\n\n\"My, my,\" I said holding the microphone lackadaisically toward my face, \"Of course the whole world is against me. Otherwise it wouldn't be fair.\"", "\"I mean, it's a nice-looking jacket, ain't it?\" Joey patted the thick, leathery backside of the grayed, bull skin.\n\n\"Hate the saying on the back though. Sounds like something some edgy teenager would be into\" Peter replied, looking up at the sign hanging above the load of equally dark, similar jackets.\n\nDefective magical object. Do not buy.\n\n\"I mean, the old jacket wasn't looking too appealing anymore. Kinda stands out too much you know?\" Joey shrugged as he grabbed the price tag and checked it before heading to the old, scar-faced cashier on the other side of abandoned Abercrombie and Fitch.\n\nThe cashier was a rather old, ancient beast of a man of some forty-something years. His hair thinned from the drags and turns of a midlife crisis. A ring sat on his finger, forgotten and sometimes polished when he played the loveless marriage card at a local dive bar. His thick upper lip betrayed a trace of non-European, yet British heritage.\n\nJoey dug his hands into his pockets while Peter held onto the jacket like a sort of slave abiding by his Dark Lord's orders, because Peter was in fact, a slave abiding by his Dark Lord's orders.\n\nThe cashier spat into a little, rusty trash-bin sitting five feet away. Dull, gray eyes stared past a pair of tastefully lilac-colored Hello Kitty designer sunglasses as he slipped the jacket's tag in between his hands.\n\nPeter shivered quietly as Joey merely tapped his foot like a middle-aged suburban woman of about twenty and pushed his right hand through his blond side-bob impatiently.\n\nFinally, the aged cashier spoke, \"Sir, that'll be eighty-eight dollars and forty-seven cents.\"\n\n\"Can I talk you down a little bit-\" Joey began, hiding a cheeky smile under his gaunt lips.\n\nThe cashier shook his head, \"Sir, this is a business. You don't haggle with a cashier.\"\n\n\"Well, the other stores had jackets just like this, but slightly cheaper,\" Peter said before he was thumped on the head by his Dark Lord Joey.\n\n\"Why the fuck are you buying it from here then?\" replied the cashier.\n\nAnd thus, the three of them continued to stand staring at each in an old and abandoned Abercrombie and Fitch sitting in an old and abandoned mall, which resided in an old and abandoned part of Los Angeles, back in the early 21st century.\n\nFinally, Joey spoke up, \"Fine, I'll pay the full price for it.\"\n\nThe cashier nodded in the affirmative, \"Alright, sir. I'll just turn around and get a bag for you real slow-like. I'm turning now really, really slowly. I ain't gonna notice anything you're gonna try at all. If you pull a gun on me and shoot me before running off with the jacket like some sorta crazy person, I wouldn't notice a goddamn thing.\"\n\nAnd as the Cashier turned around really, really slowlike to grab a bag for Joey, Joey pulled out a concealed sub-machine gun and several ~~magazines~~ clips from an inter-dimensional portal sitting inside his pocket.\n\nHe immediately loaded the gun's chamber with several rounds and pointed it at the Cashier's head.\n\n\"Give me your sunglasses too.\"\n\n------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------\n\nAbout twenty minutes from then, Joey will be in the process of engaging the Cashier in sword-to-gun combat somewhere in an alleyway of Manhattan, having been teleported by Joey's magical, dark lord powers or whatever.\n\nJoey continued to wastefully reload after every five shots. Every-time the Cashier was out of sight with enchanted Zweihander from ComicCon, Joey pulled the clip out of his gun, threw out the gun, and pulled another gun to put the clip into.\n\nSuddenly, a moment of pause. The cashier had disappeared. Joey looked around. Where was Peter?\n\nPeter, apparently, was not sitting in the kid's section of a Downtown McDonald's as he was told. Rather, he stood in alleyway with one of Joey's machine-gun's in his hand and a pump-action shotgun in the other.\n\nJoey clutched his heart in shock and pain and other bad feelings, \"Peter, I thought you were my closest ally!\"\n\n\"Slave,\" Peter corrected his Dark Lord.\n\n\"I was the best man at your wedding!\"\n\nPeter raised an eyebrow, \"Explain to me why my daughter calls you daddy?\"\n\n\"Wait, which? The hot, older one or the toddler?\"\n\nPeter made a grand show of tossing his shotgun up into the air before pulling the pump-bit-pumping thing back with a great show of bravado. Immediately after, the shotgun went flying out of his hand, into the air, before winding up in Joey's unarmed other hand.\n\n\"Did you just pump a shotgun before actually firing?\" said Joey.\n\n\"Yeah,\" came Peter the Slave.\n\n\"Why the hell would you do that?\"\n\nPeter shrugged his shoulders.\n\nPredictably, Joey tossed the contraption into a local trash-bin because he was not some weirdo who could shoot two guns with great aim at the same time. Especially rather bulky ones with entirely different purposes outside that of eviscerating human flesh and bone.\n\nThe Cashier from Los Angeles kicked off the lid of a trash can and leaped back into the fray between Peter and Joey. Snapping the lid as a shield for his greatsword, he immediately turned to Peter and nodded before facing Joey with a battle-ready grin under his shattered, Hello Kitty sunglasses. This of course, was a standard procedure behind the 'Dibs on Killing the Supervillain' policy as written under the 'The Enemy of my Enemy is Someone I Will Develop Sexual Feelings For According to the Internet.'\n\nJoey looked at the two heavily armed men in front of him. He screamed, erupting his arms in blackish-purple flames. A bystander came by, snapped a picture, and continued off to her nine-to-five job packing cans of corned beef at the factory.\n\nJoey howled and readied his arms before deciding to break into one of his generically Dark-Lordish quotes.\n\n\"Ahh, so the entire world is against me-\"\n\n\"Joey, no,\" Peter began.\n\n\"It wouldn't be-\"\n\n\"Joey. Please. No. Stop.\"\n\n\"Fair otherwise!\"\n\nAnd thus were three men killed in the alleyway of Manhattan, all over one man's desire to buy a pretty kick-ass looking jacket.", "Time passes quickly. Once you were four, once there were smiles all over and admonitions to clean up after dinner, clear your plates away - but all admonitions said with a twinkle and a ruffle of the hair. Once you were six, about to start school, wondering where your place in the world was. But never fear - it would be decided for you immediately. Other children, they'd tell you, they'd be your friends. They'd never bully. The teachers, they'd tell you, in the slight and caring way only teachers could manage. But most of all, mom and dad could tell you, tell you it was OK, give you a place to hide and cry when you got scared of thunder at dawn. And it doesn't feel so bad then, it doesn't feel like earth shattering change at all. But you know something's gone and won't come back. \n\nOnce you were fifteen, sitting on the ledge of that apartment block, believing yourself somehow immortal, desperate enough to not care about actually dying if you took one step off. You wanted someone to listen, somebody, anybody - anybody that didn't sound like the ring of a cellphone, anyone that didn't look like the roar of an oncoming train, anyone who would slow down to acknowledge that yes, you were sad, and that your sadness was legitimate, and that you could bloody well cry in a Ferrari or in a cardboard box, and that sadness was a malady of the human condition and not of the people suffering from human-ness, and that actually, if a person had a fucking Ferrari and still felt sad then there must be something very sad about his existence as a whole. \n\nYou may forget, but your heart remembers - your heart and soul knows that each and every one of those people were you once. And they carry the scars, they remember the pain - and each and every strike feels like it can blow you over and wash you away. And it's so confusing because you don't know where or who could hurt you next, or why - there was no logic to any of this. \n\nIn these circumstances it's understandable to feel defensive. It can feel very much like the entire world is against you, those cold November days that always seem to threaten rain, those freezing winds that seem to want you to fall and die every step of the way. And in a way, it kind of is. No-one is there to show you the way anymore. There are no signposts, no directions in which to live your life. But equally there are unspoken rules and impossible conditions. Like Dr. Jekyll you can never throw off the burdens - whenever you try it comes back down even more strongly than before. This freedom, it is a strange type - this freedom is strangling. So gradually you learn. Gradually you see the broken brush in life's tangle, you pick up the scent, and you learn. The entire world was against you.\n\nIt's one of those things you can't help but believe. You know that the world isn't actually against you, that the train wasn't late just to spite you, that there was a perfectly good reason to clean up your room, all the way back then, but if you didn't believe this it felt like the world would collapse and take everything with it. It felt like being put in a car and told to drive, or thrown at a runaway train and asked to stop - impossible, unless you believed that you actually could do it. Impossible. But you had to keep believing. You had to keep that fire alive, because to let it burn out would be unthinkable. To let it disappear - to allow yourself to not care - that was the sign of the end, that the person had died where the body still lived. \n\nSo we push on. We shoot all the red lights on the riverside and head straight for the harbor bridge. We sit at four in the morning and stare across the waterfront at the bright twinkling lights of the city. We find our own rules, break our own limits, make sense of our own confusion because we are the only ones that can do so. I know the entire world isn't actually against me. I know the rules and chains of life were not put there to break me down. And I don't know if they even were chains and shackles to begin with. And maybe there is more to life than wages and bills and credit cards and staying afloat. But maybe whatever there was more lay only in that indomitable spirit, that thing that needed a little delusion to live. So you feed this sense of invincibility because without it you know you are nothing. The entire world was against me. It just wouldn't be fair otherwise.\n\n===\n\nSubscribe to /r/KCcracker for more stories!" ]	10
	[WP] Two dads wearing apparel denoting them as "World's Greatest Dad" run into each other. As per the Dad rulebook, the must have a Dad-Off to determine the true World's Greatest Dad.	[ "Keeping my hand from shaking took a lot out of me. My signature needed to be flawless, this document will be reviewed in history classes for centuries. I dropped the pen. That was it, the first dad-off in almost three centuries had begun. \n\nMost dads are too cowardly to wear a \"Greatest dad\" shirt. Some take it off the instant they glance at another one. Only a few dare to stick to their guns. \nWhen it happens, a game of chicken commence. The Grand Dads, keepers of the dad rulebook, are notified of the event. A ceremony is organised, lesser dads from across the world come to witness what might be a dad-off. By this point, one of them crack, leaving the scene and forgoing the title. That wasn't me. I was the true greatest dad. I came from a long line of dads after all. \n\nMy hand didn't quiver from fear, but from eagerness. I would be remember, no one would doubt my sons when they boast of my strength. My opponent on the other hand couldn't believe what happened. He was only bluffing, putting is signature only to watch me flee. \n\nHe only had one son, that was my advantage. Being the greatest dad meant one thing, having the greatest child. I could choose any of mine to enter the contest. I chose Timmy, the ruthless one. He might fail the good manner challenge, but the gladiatorial fight would be a breeze. Brawn wasn't his only asset, he was also merciless in all thing maths. He would arts and craft the shit out of that puny thing.", "Another Idea I had:\n\nAnaheim Tribune\n\nFather's Day Massacre, Disneyland\n\n^^June ^^19, ^^1989\n\nA new rule was implemented at Disney World today after what some are calling the groan heard around the world. Disneyland will no longer allow #1 Dad apparel on father's day nor will any be sold in their stores. Thousands of families descended upon Disneyland yesterday for a day of fun in the sun and to celebrate the men who had the fun part of creating their children. Disneyland, however, was not the happiest place on Earth.\n\nMost days there is usually one or two dadoffs, usually a noon toon-town dad-down, if you will. Two fathers take part in the age old ritual of determining who really is the #1 Dad or World's Greatest Dad. This year, however, was a perfect storm. Disney handed out #1 Dad Mouse-ear hats. Soon, the entire park was flooded with \"Nice to meet you tired, I'm dad.\" \n\nThe dadoffs became worse and worse. Soon, all across the park you could hear wives slapping their foreheads, kids groaning, and teens rolling their eyes. By the end of the day, three hundred fathers were stuck repeating the same six puns. They're receiving treatment.\n\nAmong the other casualties are wives with indents in their foreheads, over six thousand children lost their voices from groaning, and two thousand teenagers are being treated for eyes rolling so hard they are permanently crossed.\n\nPresident of Disney has released a statement issuing an apology stating the #1 Dad ears were short-sighted and he apologizes for such an oversight. A dad in the audience responded, \"but ears can't see!\"\n\nIt seems we will be recovering for a long time.", "I spy him across the food court. That smug sonofabitch. Really, though, who wears crewneck sweatshirts anymore? I put down my greasy slice of pie and walk through the food court teeth clench, fists balled, and eyes on target.\n\nAt first I have to dance around kids running through the food court. My wife puts her head down and my kids bury their faces in their iphones. The food court quiets down as they see the duel of the dads about to begin. \n\nIt's Greg. He doesn't see me at first, but the silence is deafening and he looks around until he locks eyes on my #1 Dad hat. My kids (wife) got it for me when I was only five years a dad. It's a title I've cherished since.\n\nShort sleeve oxford tucked into my high-waisted levis, new balance shoes always spry for a battle. My armor is on. I outstretch my hand to meet Greg's.\n\n\"Greg! Great to see you again! It looks like you spilled something on your shirt!\" He looks down, it's his first mistake and I flip his nose. His wife lets out an audible gasp.\n\n\"Quizz, what brings you here with your family?\"\n\n\"Oh, I'm doing Christmas shopping with the kids.\" As it escaped my mouth I knew it was a setup. What a rookie mistake.\n\n\"Hi doingchristmasshoppingwiththekids, I'm Greg.\" A baby began crying in the background.\n\nI smiled to let him know this dadoff would be his last one in my neighborhood. \"I hear you guys put your tree up already. I'm not looking forward to it.\"\n\n\"Oh? Are you putting it up yourself?\" Greg looked confused, like I changed the subject.\n\n\"No. It won't fit. I'm putting it in the living room.\"\n\nHe began sweating. A bead rolled down his cheek and dripped on the cellphone strategically clipped to his belt. \"You look a little warm, Greg. Just don't stand in that corner over there.\"\n\n\"Oh? Is it warmer over there?\"\n\nTime for the finishing line. \"It's 90 degrees.\"\n\nDefeated, Greg fell back into his chair out of breath. The entire food court let out a collective groan signaling the end of the dadoff. Proudly I made my way back to my family a victor. My kids, as is tradition, asked \"can we go now?\" Never one to miss a grammar lesson either I asked \"I don't know, can you?\"\n\nI looked back across the battlefield as life continued like nothing happened. Greg had taken off the sweater and was folding it for the ceremonial burning. I almost feel bad for him, but he learned that whenever his kids roll their eyes, or groan, or say \"daaaad!\" I will be waiting.\n\nEdit: fixed the typo /u/ImAPopsicleAMA pointed out." ]	3
	[WP] Boomer! Are you there? Boomer! Booomerrrrr! We have to get out of here!	[ "...Floogal Flo said aloud.\n\n\"Where is he?\" Said Floogal Fleeker.\n\n\"Probably hiding from the hoomans which is what WE should be dooing!\"\n\nFleeker and Flo scrambled behind the flower pot as boy hooman walked by with a garden hose.\n\n\"THERE you are, Floogal Boomer! Let's get back to the ship so we can file our report!\"" ]	1
	[WP] The world ran out of power. You got a map that tells you which houses have solar power.	[ "Faith followed him through the tangled ruins, ducking under fallen girders and clambering over piles of broken brick. The mask on her face was heavy, its plastic view ports constricting her vision to mere tunnels. Each breath of hers was labored, forced as it was through makeshift filters screwed onto the mouthpiece. \n\nHilary Flint's mask was an older type, a rubberize hood with glass eyepieces so dark that Faith couldn't see his eyes. A long rubber hose connected the 'snout' of the mask to a metal canister strapped to his chest. On his wrist was a precious item, a working watch with built-in Geiger counter. He didn't mention how he came upon such a priceless piece of equipment, but Faith was glad he had it. Already they had to make detours around pockets of lingering radiation, invisible but still lethal to both Man or Fae. \n\nTalking was pointless wearing such masks, the layers of filtration and protection distorting and muffling their voices. Instead, Faith watched Flint give instructions with hand-signals, and shadowed him as he moved. She moved when he moved, halted when he did. It took them hours to cross a few hundred meters.\n\nMotioning for her to come closer, Faith saw Flint crouch down, examining a piece of rusted sheet metal. Working his fingers under the edge he slid it off with a terrible grinding noise. There, hidden by the metal was a hole perhaps three feet by three. He paused, as if to listen if anything had heard. Satisfied that nothing save dead trees had eavesdropped he lowered himself down into the hole with lit flashlight. Faith followed. \n\nThe hole was perhaps five feet deep and sunk down through the concrete of the factory it was in. A small tunnel branched off and Faith had to get down on hands and knees to fit. For twenty feet all she saw was the hob-nails of Flint's boots as he crawled. He pushed past a rubber gas screen and vanished. Faith brushed the sheet aside and nearly fell as the tunnel opened up into a small room barely larger than a closet. But it was large enough to stand, and Faith did so gratefully. \n\nFlint was busy unlocking a door, its handle chained shut with a stout padlock. The heavy chain fell free and clattered to the ground, and he pushed the door open with groan of rusted metal and metal. Inside was a room barely larger, perhaps the size of her wardrobe. Two bunks hung from the left-hand wall while the space opposite was taken up by stacks of supplies and equipment. A modest armory sat between the two on the third wall, crates of ammunition and a few husbanded rifles. \n\nHilary Flint freed himself of his mask and gasped for fresher air, Faith following immediately suit. The air was cold and damp, but it was clean. Flint grinned.\n\n\"I've been building this bolt-hole for years now. Been squirreling away spare rations and clips of ammo in case of a rainy day. It's on its own filter system that kicked in the moment we reached the entrance. Plus its got this.\"\n\nWith a flick of a switch the dim room suddenly became a blinding vision, the light harsh and chemical to Faith's eyes. \n\n\"What in the gods' names is that?\" she asked behind squinted eyes.\n\n\"That, my dear dove, is a light bulb.\"" ]	1

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