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[WP] Mankind finally makes first contact, the aliens are extremely immature.
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"\"I don't understand, they have developed space travel, and found us amongst the stars, why can't they listen to us? All they want to do is get their way; they feel as if they are entitled to it...\"\n\n\"Well, they are the ones with the superior firepower, don't they have the power here? We might have to give in to their demands if they get too feisty.\"\n\n\"No wonder they need weapons... this much advancement in science and they can't even get along with themselves...\"\n\n\"Well you would think that with their advancement they would gain some maturity, and yet they only seem to exhibit pride in their own individual, how could they have gotten this far with no unity?\"\n\n\"One of them probably has the biggest gun of them all, and the rest of them are too proud of themselves to change all of their lives for the better.\"\n\n\"Hey, Yunno, you ever think that we, as humans, ever fall into this trap?\"\n\n\"No way, all of our wars we've fought have been for a reason!\"\n\n\"I'm not so sure about this, maybe we could learn something about our own path, as humans, before we choose to judge their maturity.\"",
"A wash of excitement hit us when we landed on the Grassy Side. This side of the planet was beautiful, covered in lush grass with fawna and flora as far as the eye could see. We'd been headed for Mars ever since we recieved the message six months ago. It said \"git ovar hear bb\". We were told they learned english so they could meet us. \n\nThe alien president greeted us with a literal *warm* welcome. The people put *space* heaters everywhere and giggled the whole way through. Something about a \"two-for-pun deal\".\n\nThe royal guards brought us to the \"Thunderdome\", a glass dome with a lightning rod on top. We were led to a large dining hall, food everywhere. They told us to sit on the \"Rocking Chairs\", which were just chairs made of martian stone. \n\nThe main dish was cassowary meat, which we thought was strange. After we expressed our surprise, the aliens admitted that they put them on earth as a prank, after genetically modifying turkeys to be agressive and deadly. They always did seem alien, didn't they? \n\nDuring the meal, one of the president's advisors told us to not to eat too much of the meat, as it's quite hard on the rectum. The president shouted \"Rectum? Damn near killed 'em!\" It seems this was set up beforehand.\n\nWell, after a few hours of various puns and elaborate jokes, they gave us a tour of their science laboratories. One such lab was the prank division. This is where they developed jokes to play on us.\n\n\"You see, we created many things that piss earth people off. Drop bears, cassowaries, even the legend of Slenderman, were our doing. We also created Moon Shoes, and planned to put them on the moon, but the propulsion thrusters failed and shot them towards earth. We still got our laughs from watching various kids and adults break their ankles, though.\"\n\nThey had planned another \"big joke\" for today. Two hours ago, they infected our world's oceans and water supplies with an arousing chemical similar to ecstasy. The engineers let us use their teleporters to get back to earth, and left us with this message: \"Have a great *fucking day*.\"",
"\"We come in peace\"\n\n\"Yeah well we cum in your mom\"\n\n\"Dude wtf we've travelled over 100 million miles to meet you guys\"\n\n\"Ha gay\"\n\n\"Are you the leader of Earth or something?\"\n\n\"No I'm Derek and I work at Greggs actually Chewie\"\n\n\"Who the fuck is Chewie why are you such a dick?\"\n\n\"Hey so are you a man or woman? Cause I don't see a vagina or a penis\"\n\n\"You know what guy this was a bad idea\"\n\n\"Hit a nerve did I?\"\n\n\"I'm leaving, you're such an asshole\"\n\n\"You don't even have an asshole\"\n\n\"Fuck you Greg\"\n\n*Alien kills Greg and eats him*\n\n*Alien gets in spaceship and leaves*\n\n",
"When man once met his counterpart,\n\nA feeling welled up in his heart.\n\nHow gleeful one will be to know\n\nin this universe, he's not alone.\n\nA hand takes tentacle in stride,\n\nand together we talk by the tide...\n\n\"I like blue, and how about you?\"\n\n\"Well I like glurple, fuck you dude!\"\n\nHe kicked some sand into my face,\n\nand scurried forward several pace...\n\nA huff, a yell, a scream, a rage!\n\n\"Mark my words, I'll get my way!\"\n\nThis story is how came to be,\n\nmankind's otherworldly slavery.\n\nEdit: (how do I format this so there's only one space? .-. It either dumps every line together, or double spacing.)\n",
"We had been listening for years. Calling out into the abyss far above our heads, waiting for a response. We had hoped there was something out there, something that we could speak to. But all the stars held for us was silence.\n\nUntil it came.\n\nA message, the likes of which we had never seen, written in a fashion unlike anything we had ever known. The world grew anxious, theorizing, thinking, waiting. They had to know what it meant. To this end, the world's finest had gathered to decipher the message. I was one of them.\n\nThree months ago, we-\n\n*BEEP BEEP BEEP*\n\nMy reflection was interrupted by the guttural noise of a phone ringing across the room. I stumbled over to answer the call.\n\n\"What? It's almost midnight, why are you-\"\n\n\"Doctor, you have to see this.\"\n\nIt was a voice I had heard before. Some secretary the government hired to organize the team's efforts. She was always going off about how nobody could agree to work on different things at once, or how the coffee was bad, or how I didn't even bother to know her name. Normally, she spoke in her usual, cranky tone. But here, she sounded more serious.\n\nShe had sent a set of files to my phone. \"This is... unbelievable.\"\n\n\"Yeah, the internet works. Shocking.\" Sarcasm was rarely taken well in this operation, but it got me through the day. I nonchalantly opened the files.\n\nThey were digital scans of documents, detailing the work we had done. The same picture of the message we had mulled over for the last three months was littered around them, with various notes written over them. I had seen these documents daily for as long as we had been here. I navigated to the most recent entries. What I saw there, I can only describe as \"indescribable\".\n\nNotes were scrawled hastily in red pen, placed haphazardly around the page. That same image that haunted me all this time was there as usual, still being written over. Only this time, it seemed different. Reluctantly, I read the notes. To my surprise, these notes were not the usual conjecture I was used to seeing, but a full translation. *So my work here is done,* I thought. *I can't wait to get out of here.* I looked back at the notes. Detailed notes on the form and structure of the alien letters, along with everything we could gather about their system of writing. And within it all, the meaning of the message. The message we had worked so hard to decipher. The message the world was waiting to see.\n\nIt was a single word.\n\n\"Butts.\""
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[WP] Everyone is assigned an RPG-esque class once they turn 18. Most are pretty mundane (Farmer, Merchant), and a few get more fantastic classes (Necromancer, Dragon Knight), however, you were assigned one of the rarest: the unique class, "Copycat".
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"My first submission to the subreddit, hope ye like it!\n\nIn the little hamlet village where I grew up, there was a phrase, stamped in iron lettering on the front of the church of The Tarot, “God does not play dice”, that may be true, but he’s a bastard for cards. \n\nThe Tarot, for most is an occasion that is marked by intense excitement, followed by vague disappointment, when the Tellers of Tarot draw for you, from the deck, the 10 of Sticks, the farmer or the 6 of Coins, the merchant, and who could blame them? It must seem awfully anticlimactic, to have the Teller through beseeching the God of Destiny and cursing the name of the Goddess of Luck, through bringing salt and sacrifice and through undoing the fabric of time itself in an eldritch display of arcane light, find that your fate is in fact to stand knee deep in pig shit or peddle wares to your sour-faced neighbors for the rest of your days, then having to trudge home in your ceremonial robes, in the thick mud and lashing rain wondering just why you couldn’t have drawn the card of a Fate-weaver or Bastion of Light like old grand-uncle Tobias.\n\nWhen my Tarot Teller drew my card, he looked at it, emitted a choked scream, then fell off his chair and broke his neck on an inconveniently placed wicker basket. (Cursing the Goddess of Luck has its consequences). Which lead me, four messy and formative years later to scaling a castle wall in the city of Larz. \n\nIt was a night like any other in a city with as many cathedrals as Larz, bitterly cold, cutting wind, miserably cloudy. I scrabbled up the cobbled wall, finding purchase on the flocks of ugly gargoyles decorating every surface of the fortress, the castle cathedral was placed on a rocky outcrop, high above the rest of the city, below me the world sprawled out in a checker pattern of cobbled streets and houses, pinpricked by lights, I tried not to think about the kind of person-jam they would be sweeping off the roads if I fell, until, when I was about two gargoyles from the battlements, I felt a head give way under my feet, tumbling to its destruction below, it shattered with an echoing crack. The grey, imperial might of the city managed to look even less inviting when you were hanging by the ends of your fingertips above it. As I desperately pulled myself up on a knobbly gargoyle knee, I felt my sword loosen itself from my belt. Shit. And then slip off to clatter next to the gargoyle head below. Double Shit. I hauled myself up, practically jumping over the top of the battlements and landed in a heap on the floor. I had landed in a courtyard. The battlements transferred smoothly into an airy garden, leading to the church-fortress which dominated the Larz skyline. The job that I had been forced into had a fairly simple objective, steal the “Chalice of Our Most Revered Saint Lysander” I had no idea who Lysander was, or why he was so revered, but the cup was held in a fortress of the most militant religious organisation this side of the Free Kingdoms. So I assumed it was important, or at least valuable.\n\nAs long as the guards hadn’t heard the gargoyle head, the sword or my loud stream of curses I would theoretically be in the clear. “Stop defiler!”. The order came muffled from the great helm of a heavily armored man, barrelling towards me with a two handed sword already halfway out of its sheath, his flowing robes and bright heraldry meant he was probably a Sunlight Paladin. Do gooder, warrior of justice and user of organ pulpingly powerful luminary magic. Only one of these seemed relevant right now, I went for my sword, and remembered as I found an empty scabbard. This was enough for him to conclude that I wasn’t coming quietly. A bright glow bathed the courtyard as he summoned a large spear of crackling, golden light. I stood up and stared at him.\n\nAt this point I should elaborate slightly. When my tarot was drawn, and my teller met his unfortunate, wicker-based demise, I sat there in the darkly lit Chamber of Drawing, scared and confused, but the tarot called. It drew me in and when I saw it, I knew it, even though I knew nothing of it before, it made me know. The 3 of Eyes. A deep pulsing purple on the card, the unblinking iris’s clumped together like grapes. The Copycat, to those who whisper some wildly inaccurate tale of it over a campfire. My skill is identity theft. With concentration and effort, I can copy your memories, all of them, your childhood, your ambitions, your hopes, your dreams, the skills you have, your failings, your triumphs, your agonies, your sorrows, all of it, and without the clouded confusion of navigating your own mind and thoughts. For a few short moments, before the memories begin to fade and before I begin to forcibly dislodge those stickier ones, like picking leftovers from ones teeth, I know you better than you ever will. Does that scare you dear reader? Because it terrifies me.\n\nThis man’s name was Gregor, his nickname was Bull, he was 25 last he checked, he had a brother called Brian, he.. Stay focused, deal with the memories later, jettison the irrelevant, give me the cool light powers. The bolt hurtled towards me, I thrust an arm forward, absorbing the light letting it flow through me, as Master Gallen had taught and let it pass out, the bolt shot wildly back out through my arm and blasted against a large statue, it crumbled, falling a close shave’s away from the paladin, who’s reaction was about what you might expect when some common thief plays volley with your deadly and ancient spells. I ran past the paladin along a side path, lined with obscuring hedges and headed straight for the cathedral keep, I had been given an idea of where the artefact would be, so it was time for some stunning improv and insane stupidity.\n\nThe deafening cacophony of alarm chimes and panicked yelling was filling the courtyard, as angry fanatics with implements of violence flooded out from their watch-points and secretive smoke breaks. I ducked low behind a hedge as patrols dashed across the courtyard, towards the stunned paladin. “Don’t just look at me, you idiots!” He bellowed, snapping out of his trance “Spread out and find her!” Slinking along the edge of the courtyard, I got to the edge of the keep, the guards had yet to notice me, but the intricate cathedral door had been locked down with the staccato clunks of sliding locks. I paused and stared at the oppressive front of the church-fortress for a second “Seems a bit odd with all this security that they’ve got a big bloody stained-glass window above the door dunnit?”. I began to climb.\n\nThe crash of thousands of hours of glass-artist's work shattering inward against my momentum alerted the guards to my position again. As I fell into the main hall from above, I impacted with an ornate chandelier, clinging desperately to the wildly swinging thing, I tried to get my bearings. The hall was long with a high arched ceiling, side doors every few steps, there were several walkway levels running the length of the hall, First level, left side, shrine to the venerable Lysander was what I was looking for. Crossbow bolts drew me back to reality, one thunked solidly into the chandelier, next to my head, ruining some particularly fine metal filigree. The line of men and women hastily fumbling for their crossbows below reminded me that yes, in fact, this place was filled with guards. Jumping off the doomed ceiling ornament, I lunged onto the balcony level, bashing myself on the railing, as the chandelier plunged to its doom, riddled with barely cocked and hardly aimed bolts. Next volley would be me, undoubtedly. I dragged myself off the ground and kept going.\n\nThe pounding of the garrison boots on the stairs behind chased me along the walkway, and I was pretty sure the sound was coming from both sides. Time to focus. Alright, Lysander, apparently, an old bearded guy, spear in one hand, but that’s every Saint of The Harmony Church! No, wait, his symbol is a weighing scales, with coins on it. Right there, on the third thick oaken door! Aha! “Aha!” the scream came from the leading guard down the walkway, they were indeed coming from both sides. I tried the door, a hard jolt, it was locked. I was about to be caught in an armored crusader sandwich. I had an idea, as people usually do when they’re up shit creek and the canoe has been rammed by a battleship. I had all of the memories, but none of the experience or actual training for said idea, eh, why not? I felt the light be coaxed from the mundane air, channelling it through me, catching it in my body, then giving it a way to exit. The charging line of guards paused for a second as my arm burned with chaotically harnessed light, I screamed a lot, and then I let go. The door exploded inwards, most of it vaporised, my hand burned like a bitch and my ears were ringing, but I stumbled in. The chalice was on a carved stone alter, a jewel encrusted, silver and gold cup, perfectly backlit by a shaft of pure gold sunbeams. I ran towards it, before realising an important omission from the plan that I had formed due to the complete buggering of the original one. This was a vault. It only had one exit, and no windows. The guards were surging in the door, murder in their eyes and probably in their ears and noses and mouths as well. I grabbed their precious chalice, mostly to use it as a beating-shield. Something happened.\n\n\n",
"\"Just fill out this Class Form here, and sign at the bottom of the third sheet. Do not sign the Blue Sheet.\"\n\nI could barely hold my excitement as I signed all the necessary forms for my Class Evaluation. I've been waiting for this moment for 10 years, ever since my brother became a Hero. My Parents, my teachers, and all of my friends told me that Classes are genetic and I would probably become a Hero like my brother. Heroes received the best treatment from society and only had one job, stop the Dark Classes from destroying society.\n\n My Mom was a High Priestess, and my dad was a Noble fighter, so I had a 65% chance of Hero, 20% chance of Magician, and a 14% chance of Fighter. There was a 1% chance of a Random Class, but I was certain that I would become a Hero like my brother. I had a duty to carry the Fiddler name and follow in the footsteps of Alex.\n\nThe lady told me to enter the Evaluation room, where my brother had become the first hero in over a decade. I mentally prepared myself as I sat in the machine in the center of the room. The monitor blared to life as I sat inside it.\n\n\"Are you ready for the Class Evaluation?\" It spoke.\n\n\"Yes, I am absolutely ready!\" I responded, almost shouting at the machine.\n\nThe internal mechanisms began to whir as the examination began. The machine measured everything about my life, genetics, lifestyle, even my habitudes. After an hour, the machine stopped and printed out a small piece of paper. I grabbed it anxiously and began to read the single line of text.\n\n\"Your Class Evaluation has hereby resulted in COPY CAT. Please ask the Evaluator any questions about your class.\"\n\nAt first my heart sank, as all of my hopes and dreams shattered instantly. I had become a disappointment to my family, friends, and especially my brother. However, curiosity soon took over.\n\n\"What does this mean?\" I asked the Machine, almost pleadingly.\n\n\"It means you are a Copy Cat. Your class has no special abilities or privileges except one, Identity Thief. Using this ability, you can steal the identity of any person. However, there is one prerequisite. You must kill the person whose identity you want to steal. You are the second known Copy Cat in existence since the creation of the Class Evaluation. The first one, named Gregory Dust, is currently living as a Hero by the name of Alex Fiddler.\"\n\nMy heart skipped a beat as I heard the Machine state my brother's name. I couldn't process any of this information, I couldn't think about any of it. However, I did know one thing. My brother was dead and a murderer had taken his place. I walked out of the room, taking my things and prepared to hunt down Gregory Dust, using whatever means necessary.\n"
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[WP] You wake up from a weird dream and check your phone like you do every morning and noticed that you have recorded footage from inside your dream.
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"\"Ahhhh!\" I yelled as I bursted awake. It had to be on a Monday, of course. My heart was racing, I was covered in sweat, and my hands trembled as I reached to check the time on my phone; 3:00am. \"Shit,\" I thought as I struggled to catch my breath. I had to get up for work in just two hours. I was so fucking sick of having these nightmares. Sleep paralysis is by far one of the most terrifying experiences a person can endure. I've been falling into this state of torture nearly every night for several weeks now. You don't really know if you're dead or alive and there is no way to wake yourself up... you hallucinate all of your biggest fears and relive traumatic events in your life... and it all feels so real. It's like being trapped in a burning house, knowing death is certain; every breath burns as you inhale smoke and behind every door is another room engulfed in hellish flames. There is no escape. You may consciously know that you're sleeping, but your brain perceives your 'dreams' as a vividly authentic reality.\n\nThis dream, though, particularly fucked with my head. Within the dream, I was at the lake at which I had spent so many summers as a child. I recognized the setting, and even saw my late grandfather in the dream, which is how I knew I was dreaming. Dreams have always astounded me and I have done much research on the subject. I was so enthralled in the wonders of human dreaming that I began experimenting with lucid dreaming a while back. What an amazing feeling it is!! You can completely control **everything**. From setting and weather, to who is there and the content of conversation, you control everything... that is... if you don't fall into sleep paralysis. You see, lucid dreaming is great, but it takes practice. It's not a normal function of the brain; it allows the conscious imagination to be in control of perception rather than the subconscious of the brain. I learned quickly that the subconscious does not like to be tricked. If your subconscious begins to realize that you *consciously* know you're dreaming, it will do one of two things: wake you up, or send you into sleep paralysis. Unfortunately for me, the latter is more common. I use to try to make myself have lucid dreams; I kept a dream journal, constantly completed reality checks, and I was a clock watcher. Now, however, I try desperately to avoid them in fear that I will fall into sleep paralysis. \n\nI was not so lucky tonight. As I said before, I realized I was dreaming because my late grandfather was in the dream. I figured I would try to go lucid after I encountered him because I was so comfortable and familiar with the setting, but all of a sudden, his face changed. I knew paralysis was coming. I counted my fingers in an effort to confuse my brain but there was no saving me. His skin turned gray and twisted as all emotion disappeared leaving him silent and blank-faced. Again, trying to confuse my subconscious, I closed my eyes and spun in a circle. When I opened them, what I saw was mortifying. His skin sunk in on itself and had begun to fall off as if it were a thick liquid. The setting had also changed from the peaceful lake house to a vast, black abyss. There was no light other than that which shone on me and the corpse that then laid on the ground at my feet. Terrified and knowing that things could get much worse, I ran into the surrounding darkness. I screamed, \"Wake up! Wake up!\" As I ran, I noticed a soft glowing light in the distance. Hoping that it might be an escape, I ran directly at it.\n\nWhen I finally reached the lit area, I could see a dock. It was the dock from the lake house, but it was much darker. All that existed was this dock and the water surrounding it in the empty darkness. Slowly, I approached the dock and began to walk out onto it. The wood was cold and rough on my feet. A disturbing silence set in as I stood at the end of the dock overlooking the water. I could see no end to the lake, no other people, no grass, no sky... nothing but a seemingly limitless black space of emptiness. As I tried to keep quiet to avoid what might have been lurking in the dark, I kneeled at the end of the dock. I wanted this to end, but I knew I was not in control.\n\nAs I tried to calm myself, I gazed at the lake. When you are in sleep paralysis, a couple minutes can seem like days, weeks, or even years. I was only trying to wait it out until my alarm clock woke me up, but I had no idea how long it might take. While I waited, decided to reach down to touch the water. It was as cold as ice. As I drew my hand back up to the dock, I noticed my reflection in the water. It was at least somewhat comforting to see my face in the midst of the void I was trapped in. The water was crystal clear and the surface was completely undisturbed. There were no ripples in the water and the surface was perfectly smooth. As I looked at my reflection, I began to simply scan over my face. It is not all to often that a person literally stares at themself in mirror and inspects every feature of their face. I started with my chin and jaws; square and muscular like my father's. Moving upward, I looked at my lips; small and thin like my mother's. My nose; sleek and pointed like my brother's. Finally, I looked into my eyes. Something was off. They didn't match my eyes. They were remarkably similar, but not the *same*. I had stared at myself for quite some time when it happened... my reflection blinked. I couldn't believe what I saw so I stared until it happened again. This time, though, the reflection blinked and the eyes turned entirely black, contrasting the face. Startled by what I saw, I began to move away from the water when I noticed the reflection didn't move with me. Immediately, a hand sprung out of the water from what I thought was my reflection and clinched my neck. I began gasping for air as I hit...myself? The thing then dragged my into the water. I fought and fought as hard as I could, but the person, my reflection, was not phased at all. The being dragged me under the surface and effortlessly held me down by my throat. It looked me right in the eyes with its demonic stare as I struggled to get away. Panicking, I knew I was running out of breath. I felt as if I was staring death in the face when it let me go. I swum and swum as fast as I could to the surface as time ticked away. I was out of air. I could just see the light above when I inhaled. All water. I vomited, still struggling to reach the surface, inhaled again...water. I felt my life force fade as I endured what it was like to be drowned...\n\n...then I woke up.\n\n\"Ahhhh!\" I yelled as I burst awake. I tried catching my breath, but struggled to calm myself down. That was the most fucked up dream I had ever had. My heart was racing, I was covered in sweat, and my hands trembled as I reached to check the time on my phone; 3:00am. There was also a new notification. I figured I could use a distraction right about then so I decided to open it. It was an email. As I scanned over the information, I noticed that the sender was my own email and there was an attachment... a video file. Hesitantly, I clicked the attachment link and the screen went black. The audio faded in and sounded like it was under water. I could hear a splash followed by muffled yells and screams. The screen then faded in, and I could see two people. One was me and the other was...me. I was drowning myself. It was the dream. I watched myself fight and fight and inhale the water and vomit and inhale it again and...die. My dead body stopped flailing, let out a few bubbles, and slowly sank away from the surface of the water. The one of me that was left alive then looked directly at the camera, smiled and whispered, \"Sweet Dreams.\"",
"My morning started like any other morning. First thing, get up. Next, shower. And then, brush my teeth. Checking my phone would be next, on the way to getting some food in me. As I was brushing my teeth, I thought over the weird and creepy-ass dream I had last night. I keep having that freaking dream, and it keeps playing out the same no matter what happens.\n\nIt starts with me waking up, but my house is in ruins. People are screaming, the smell of smoke and brimstone is everywhere. I get up and get dressed, skipping my shower to see what the hell is going on. It's always the same thing, seven foot tall demonic monsters with no face. Just a gigantic horrifying mouth. They're chasing everyone down, and eating them. And then one eventually notices me, chases me down, and when it goes to tear me apart, I wake up.\n\nNo matter what I do to hide, to help others, etc, they keep finding me, and killing me. This time, I thought if I recorded them with my phone, I could spread the word out to the internet, but my phone understandably had zero bars, and no wifi. Well, at least the dreams are consistent. I know for a fact it's a dream, because in it, I can fly. Not that it helps me escape their wrath any. In fact, flying tends to be like painting a big target on myself, telling them to fly up after me, and eat me.\n\nI finish brushing my teeth and sigh. Stupid nightmare. Well, at least until the part of them tearing me apart, I can control my fear in it anymore. \n\nI grab my phone, and unlock the lock screen, to find that I must have left an app open last night before I slept. Crap, what now? I check, and it's the video recorder app. Oh great, I must have activated it in my sleep. Expecting to find nothing but footage of the ceiling, and sounds of me snoring, I go to delete the video. However, I stop when I see the thumbnail of it.\n\nThat's not the ceiling, that's one of the monsters!\n\nI quickly tell it, no I didn't mean to say delete, at the confirm screen, and backtrack. I've got to see it for myself. I check, and sure enough, it's the footage I shot *in my dreams* of the monsters!\n\nAnd...oh crap, it looks like it really did send, the video uploaded to YouTube. I checked, and the description was a bunch of gibberish. It had thousands of views, and over 100 comments already.\n\nReading through them, I saw comments like \"fake and gay\", \"lame\", etc, but also like \"WHAT THE FUCK?! WHERE IS THIS HAPPENING AT?!\", \"I have nightmares that play out much like this!\", \"We've got to alert the army or something!\", etc.\n\nAs I'm reading over the comments, suddenly my phone switches apps on me, since I'm getting an incoming call. I check, and it's my friend Greg. Oh sweet Jesus, finally some sanity in this world. He's always been my rock, explaining in great detail how anything hollywood cooks up with horror can't possibly be real. He'll make sense of this, he's been my friend since we were kids. I answer the phone.\n\n\"Get out of the house NOW, they're on their way. They know you know, and they know you've uploaded that footage. RUN.\" he said, and hung up. ",
"I awoke at 4 AM to a rather unsettling nightmare and found myself drenched in sweat, even though I had kicked the blankets off of my bed, and my ceiling fan was twirling on its highest setting. I was so shaken by the dream that the adrenaline pulsing through my body had me on high alert, unable to fall back asleep, at least for a little while.\n \nI turned the bedside table lamp on and looked at the clock to confirm the time before surveying my room to make sure nothing was out of place, and that no boogeymen were hiding away. Everything seemed just as I remembered when falling asleep. Nothing that I could notice, at least.\n \nI recounted what had happened in my nightmare, hoping that it would relieve my mind knowing that it was only a dream, and allow me to fall back asleep without any trouble.\n \nI was in a cornfield, which wasn’t unusual considering that where I live there were hundreds of those fields all across the town. It was nighttime, and unusually dark compared to the actual nights out in the country where the light from the stars themselves provided enough to see where one was going. I had a flashlight on me, but I never saw it in my hand; just a beam of light everywhere I looked, like something out of a video game.\n \nAs I pushed through the thick, tall stalks of corn that were a chore to maneuver through, even in a dream, I came upon an old farmhouse. I had recognized it immediately, because as a kid the school bus would always drive past it to and from school. The place had always been poorly maintained by some old geezer who all of the kids told urban legends about. The man was a murderer, demonic cults were performed there, some creature roamed the cornfield, the scarecrows walked at midnight; if you could think of a story about the place, it had already been concocted by the young kids who were bored, as living in the middle of nowhere would do that to someone.\n \nThe house was a block of nighttime shadow. I shined my flashlight along the rotting front porch, the dusty, old windows, and even the familiar blue pickup truck I’d seen parked at the side, its paint faded by countless sunny afternoons.\n \nThe front door was open. My dream voice in my head prompted me to enter the house, like it was some invitation. As any nightmare goes, my gut told me otherwise and continuously attempted to force me to leave, but instead I walked up the squeaky, wooden steps and across the porch floorboards that sagged beneath my weight.\n \nI walked inside of the dark, empty farmhouse. I looked to my left. The furniture was askew. An old television, still adorned with the wiry antlers of cable antennae, had laid lopsided along the living room floor. A blizzard of static fizzed from its screen.\n \nIn front of me down a short hallway, I was only able to have a glimpse of the kitchen through the open doorway. I saw a freshly made meal for two, barely even touched, and glistening in the beam of my flashlight were shards of broken glass from cups of water carelessly knocked off the edge of the table. Or, swiped? Thrown? The house was obviously in disarray, as if a fit of rage was unleashed upon the home.\n \nThe wooden stairs that lead to the second floor were smeared with blood, along the steps and descending the wall. Something injured had been dragged mercilessly down the staircase, and a handprint on the wall, starting at the top, became a streak of red paint the further down it went.\n \nAt this point, I had started to realize that I was in a nightmare. I think. It all had seemed so real, but everything felt…off. Different. As if it almost wanted to be real, but it couldn’t quite get it right.\n \nMy subconscious managed to tell me that the upstairs was not worthy of investigating. I instead directed my attention to the basement entrance in the hallway ahead of me, just before the kitchen and beneath the staircase. Something was in there, I just knew it.\n \nI had found myself opening the basement door. My flashlight beam slowly directed itself down the basement steps and into the pitch black, empty, dirty basement. I could feel another presence down there, but I remained planted at the top of the staircase.\n \nIt was a wet sound, like water dripping but with more of a defined impact with the basement floor. Thicker than water. Sticky. Something grumbled within the dark depths, in another language that I had never heard before, but even if I had, the way that it groggily mumbled the words in a deep, beastly voice was incoherent within itself.\n \n“Hello?” I stupidly called out, my dream-self forgetting every horror movie that I’d ever seen.\n \nWhatever was in the basement ceased its mumbling, and I heard a hiss of sudden alertness, presumably the being redirecting its attention to my intrusion. *Hello?* it mimicked back, over and over again in a different inflection and pitch with each repetition of the word. It sounded like multiple people were down in the basement, each responding back with ‘hello?’ of varying sexes and ages. A middle-aged man with a gruff voice; an old woman with a soft, welcoming voice; a little boy who sounded scared; a young woman whose voice seemed a few pitches too deep, as if it were coming through a voice-altering program. The being continued to find the right voice, repeating the same word, and it paused before finally returning with a flawless, “Hello?” in *my* voice.\n \nAnd then I remember seeing a mass of bright red, bleeding arms scratching at the floor of the basement, and the steps of the stairwell, stripped of skin to expose the pulsing veins and muscle of a dozen thrashing limbs. Faces frozen in agony and terror crept into the beam of my flashlight. Missing eyes and contorted screams. Everything was fused together as an undulating lump of meat. And they all continued to hiss, *Hello?*\n \nThere was a break in the nightmare, but I was suddenly back in the cornfield running away from the farmhouse. The creature was behind me, releasing a shrill, monstrous cry of a hundred terrorized voices. The cornstalks were thickening, and the ground had become soft and swampy. The faster I tried to run, the harder it became as each desperate footstep became stuck in the goopy ground.\n \nI knew it was behind me, but I didn’t want to look back. I was growing tired, like I’d just run a marathon.\n \nThe hundreds of distorted, almost demonic voices repeating *Hello?* grew louder as whatever was chasing me drew nearer and nearer. I was sure that I was just at the property line of the cornfield, my exhausted breath becoming taxing on my ability to run any further.\n \nI peeked over my shoulder. I had barely even made it a few feet from the farmhouse.\n \nA dozen meaty, burnt, and decaying hands exploded in screams from the dark, thick cornstalks surrounding me, all connected to one another and fused to a thing that wore a hundred deformed faces.\n \nThe last thing I saw was the night, starless sky before I woke up."
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What is it? And how/why is it done?
Also, does your protagonist feel okay with this decision or not, why?
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[WP] your protagonist takes his last sip and pays his drink. He/she leaves the bar knowing it has to be done.
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"The money was placed on the bar and all he said was, \"Keep the change.\" He'd overpaid massively but that didn't matter. It wasn't a decision he had taken lightly but it was a decisions that had to be made and if he wouldn't make it who would? Maddox? Dex? No. None of them would.\n\nAll his life Alan had wanted to be a hero, to use his abilities for something worthwhile but he knew he could never be a hero and then The Legion came. Atlas had united the world's heroes in to one group, \"The Legion of Justice.\" A group that disregarded international law and over extended their jurisdiction whenever they felt like it but most just accepted it and silently hoped that they would never turn as the threat of The Legion had forced most villains and their operations deep underground; more akin to terrorist cells than the organisations they had once been. As he scaled the roof he began to think: the world was a mess of villains and heroes fighting day and night before Atlas descended from above to usher in \"a new age,\" as the world had called it, the villains almost non operational in the public eye, huge leaps towards world peace... but at what price? Were humans right to submit to the \"utopian\" age that the blue giant had brought in? Alan remembered something the Doctor Glinkov had once told him.\n\n\"We do not have a divine purpose in life but, my boy, we are the masters of this world. Even if it was God himself, we should never bow down to a foreign power. Regardless of how sorry a state the world may be in *and even if we know* that it can and *will* solve the problems; never bow to it. We do not have a special place in the universe but we have our pride and to no Gods should our pride ever be surrendered in exchange for *anything*.\" Alan reached his position with Glinkov's words echoing in his head; Glinkov was one of the men brave and foolish enough to reject the steps to peace under the guidance of Atlas and he'd paid the price at the hands of the governments and heroes of the world. Atlas was due to speak in Red Square about the planned global disarmament, the speech would be broadcast live around the globe, billions would be watching. It was Alan's job to silence him. Permanently.\n\nWorld peace would soon be achieved and The Legion would oversee everything from then on but the people were still afraid of Atlas. Many members of The Legion only cooperated because of Atlas, the governments only cooperated because of The Legion, Atlas' death would splinter The Legion and bring the disarmament talks to a sudden, screeching halt.\n\nSecurity was none existant because Atlas though himself invulnerable to almost all forms of damage, fortunately for Arachnos, The Legion didn't know about Alloy-6, known as \"The pebble of David.\" As Atlas made his way to the podium, Alan slowed his heartrate and breathing to levels impossible for a normal human and lined up the shot. The crosshair was over Atlas' ocular cavity, like Marsh had always tought him and pulled the trigger; whispering to himself as he did. \"For a good work we stone thee not, but for blasphlemy, because thou, being a man, makest thyself God.\" As he finished the verse, a red mist erupted from Atlas' head as the bullet pierced him and the charge detonated. Alan collected the shell casing and vanished into the snow bathed streets and considers going back to the bar whilst Atlas' blood stained the crisp white ground of the square. He had always wanted to be a hero but knew he couldn't, instead he would have to resign himself to being a villain. One who did the wrong things for the right reasons.\n\nThe coated figure walking down the street soon disappeard into the white mist as the strings Atlas had weaved began to rapidly, almost tangibly, unravel.\n\n\n\n\nr/WrittenByBob",
"\"Thanks Mick,\" said Jonathan as he placed down a five dollar bill. He walked out into the bright day light of the city and lit up a cigarette. He took a deep puff and made his way to his task.\n\nHis world was being shaken to its core. This was something that was coming for a long time now, but he was still weary of the job he had to do. He began to question himself. What's this worth it? Was it even moral? These questions would have to wait until he got this done.\n\nHe kept walking towards his goal with his fists clenched. His anger was seeping into the air. Every person he passed knew, he was a man on mission. \n\nHe was just around the corner from the building where it would take place. He closed his eyes to try and prepare himself. He couldn't ease his nerves, but he swallowed his fear and burst through the front door of the building with a look that would scare the devil upon his face.\n\n\"Good afternoon, Johnathan. Are you ready for your prostate exam?\""
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[WP] Your parents have been providing you with "monster spray" to use under your bed since you were a kid (over twenty years ago). You thought it may be just fragranced water, but it's like a security blanket. Last night you ran out for the first time. You wake up to whispering underneath your bed.
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"Old habits die hard. \n\nI mean who would have thought that at 25 years of age, living in my own flat, and for all intents and purposes a fully functioning adult, I’d still be afraid of the dark? More specifically, things *in* the dark.\n\nIt really shouldn’t matter that the little bottle of ‘Monster repellent spray’ I hold in my hand is empty. But it’s the first time. I’ve used that silly little bottle for as long as I can remember and it’s strange to think that tonight I’ll have to do without. \n\nI’ve always known I’d had to stop the pretending someday, but my parents always have more. It’s become a sort of running joke in the family. *Make sure Mike’s got his monster spray*, my mom chants whenever my parents come to visit, and my dad slips me a few full bottles with a wink.\n\nWell, time to let go of childish fears, right?\n\nI head to my room, slide under the covers and wait for sleep to come to me. I don’t feel any different. My bed is still my bed, my room remains unchanged. But still, *I know*.\n\nAnd to make matters worse, I’m pretty sure I’m getting paranoid because I can hear scratching noises underneath my bed. I ignore it, telling myself it’s something completely rational like a mouse in the floorboards or something, which doesn’t make me feel any better.\n\nI’m just about to doze off when I heard a little bump, followed by a whispered, but very distinct “Ow.”\n\nNow I’m all one for rational thought, but mice don’t go bump in the night and say ‘ow’.\n\n“Who’s there?” I ask.\n\nThere’s a slight ruffling underneath the bed, more distinct this time.\n\nI strain my ears.\n\n“Hello?” I ask again. The ruffling stops.\n\nThere are a few harsh whispers that erupt from under my bed and then something clears it’s throat.\n\n“Terribly sorry to disturb your sleep sir, we seem to have gotten lost.”\n\nI lie completely still in my bed.\n\n“We?” I ask.\n\n“Well yes,” the voice answers. “We were looking to go under a completely different bed altogether, but Herman here-” There’s a soft squishy voice that rises in protest. “No no, Herman, I distinctly remember you saying you had a shortcut. Yes, this path is usually barred to us but that’s no excuse, you had no clue where you were headed.”\n\nThings quieten down, then the first voice picks up again.\n\n“Could you possibly tell us where we are?”\n\nI give my address.\n\n“Ah splendid. Much obliged. We’ll be on our way then.”\n\nI sit up in bed. “Wait! Wait!”\n\n“Yes?” says the voice.\n\n“What...I mean..are you monsters?”\n\n“Well naturally of course,” says the voice, “Very busy monsters that are already too late for their appointment. Tell you what, to thank you for your services, I’ll leave you our card. You need monsters under a bed, Herman and I are at your service. Bye now.”\n\nWhatever it was that scared me about monsters as a child is gone. Maybe it’s the video games or the horror movies. Maybe it’s that this one is articulate. In any case, I fling myself over the edge of the bed to try and catch a glimpse of the creatures.\n\nNothing. I must have just missed them. The only thing under my bed is a small card.\nI reach down and pick it up. It reads ‘Splendid and Herman, professional monsters for professional hauntings, terrorizing, fear inducing or nightmarish nights.’ with a phone number.\n\nI get back in bed and ponder for a while. Tomorrow I’m getting more monster spray.\nBut then I’m also starting a list. I know a few people who could do with a few visits from a certain duo. I can already see myself, dialing the number every night before going to bed.\n\nLike I said, old habits die hard. Fortunately, new ones can come alive very easily."
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[WP] Scientists discover a planet made from the imaginations of humanity.
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"*Follows the record of subject A. \nSubject A profile: \n- Occupation: Artist \n- Age: 45 \n- Gender: Female* \n \nHave you ever seen Awe? \n \nI don't mean seeing someone express that emotion but the emotion itself. \n \nNo? \n \nWhat about Lust? \nWhat about ambition? \nFear? \nDesire? \nRegret? \n \nI have seen all of these, I have seen the footprints that our emotions have left upon the cosmos. I have seen the myriad changing states of humanity as we trudge through our lives. I have borne witness to the innermost visions of my friends, my family.. myself. \n \nChildren couldn't pin anything down, their minds racing so fast that my eyes simply could not keep up with the displays of colour, theatre and excitement before me. A fraction of a second is all that it takes for a space battle to turn into dodgems to turn into a gun fight and back to a space battle. The vibrancy of their young minds is gorgeous and bears witness to the carefree nature of youth. \n \nTeenagers are lewd. Their fantasies last longer, far longer in fact than reality is likely to permit, and display a profound naivety. For boys the projection is one of their power and magnificence with women flocking around them; for women, the projection is one of tenderness. But, as they all get older, their projections become more and more fantastic until that one day their visions give way to something closely resembling reality. \n \nThen come the young adults, those people who project their ambition into this world. Men and women scurry around as captains of industry upon whose words the world hangs. Some are rich beyond desire, others have families and houses that rival the kings and queens of old and yet more are adventuring to worlds unknown. \n \nThen come the proper adults. People who are plagued by fear. Dead babies. Unpaid mortgages. Failed marriages. Whilst this place is a sad one it is punctuated by moments of elation: triumphant kids and their diplomas, sensuous encounters and then every once in a while a simulacrum of the innocence childhood. \n \nIt was here that I was forced to confront myself. My fears. Those things that keep me awake at night. \n \nThen comes middle age. The men once again enact the lewd power fantasies of teenagers(dreaming of buxom secretaries and fast cars) whilst the women wistfully contemplate a romantic ideal that cannot exist in the real world. \n \nFinally comes old age. This place is one of misremembered acts. Paths not taken and the happy consequences that would have come had the other choice been made. \n \n \n \n~~~ \n\n*Follows the record of subject D \nSubject D profile: \n- Occupation: Roadie \n- Age: 24 \n- Gender: Male* \n \n Flying cars man. They were pretty cool. Then, when you got your head straight you realised that flying cars were nothing! \n \nFlying motorbikes. Oh man, so much cooler! Plus every time I got on one this chick appeared sitting behind me. And she was always this hot redhead I know. Christ, the things I did with her... \n \nAnd the drugs, oh man, best high of your life with no come down. It was wild. \n \n~~~ \n \n*Follows the record of subject X. \nSubject X profile: \n- Occupation: Accountant \n- Age:32 \n- Gender: Male* \n \nThere wasn't much there if I'm honest. \n\n\n",
"Brent looked around at the mindless workers that surrounded him and then back at his computer screen. The suprise of it all had caused him to almost choke on the sub he was eating. He set it down and started quickly drinking his coke to help clear his throat. Red faced and coughing he analyzed the screen. He felt adrenaline shoot through his body, starting at his legs and surging through his chest, as he processed the data that sat in front of him. Finally, after sleepless nights spent searching, he had found it. All because he accidently typing in the wrong coordinates into the telescope. His mind was racing at a million miles a minute. He just wanted to stand up and scream. \n\nHe agressively dialed the red phone that sat on his desk.\n\nHis leg bounced up and down as he waited for the phone to connect. \n\n\"Y-yes it is an emergency. Well. I don't care that he is in a meeting. Thank you. \"\n\nThe line fell silent.\n\nEach second that passed cause a new shot of adrenaline to course through his body. By the time he heard the click of the phone being picked back up he thought he was going to explode.\n\n\"Sir..\" \n\nBrent cleared his throat.\n \n\"....I've found it.\"\n\nHe hung up the phone and held his hand on the reciever for a second, watching it shake uncontrollably. \n\nAfter losing their portal, the government had to physically find Imaginationland and it had been a meticulous and unforgiving task. \n\nIt had been days since terrorists had attacked and taken over Imaginationland. Speculation had run rampant. It was time for the tides to shift. Kurt Russell couldn't even stop this. It was time to nuke imagination land. It took time but Cartman vs. Broflovski had finally been overturned. Now they could make a difference. Now they could help.\n\n\n",
"My fingers trembled as I sat strapped into a chair that I never asked to sit in. My head was pounding. The level of motion sickness I had just experienced was beyond anything I've ever felt on Earth. Space was cool and all, but I didn't ask to be shipped off here. \n\nWhen I'd heard about the planet they were calling X, I was dumbfounded. However, what I saw in front of me was nothing like I could've imagined. Bigger than any place I'd ever been, but somehow smaller than I pictured. There were creatures that didn't exist flying through the air, and cartoonish scenes played out in front of my eyes. I was witnessing billions of imaginations come to life. It didn't take long before I saw the reason I was here. \n\nI was an unconventional child. I had little to no hobbies, and not a single friend. Well, unless you count the giant, furry one I made up in my mind. His name is Hamburger, and he was lumped over in some pink grass about a mile from me. He had giant rocks in his hands that he was throwing as hard as he could into space - the reason I was here. \n\nThey discovered Planet X because giant meteors were crashing into other planets, all coming from the same direction. They sent astronauts, scientists, even psychologists up here once they figured out where they were coming from. No one could get through to him. When they grilled everyone figuring out who dreamed this guy up, they found me. They asked me to imagine him not being a destructive jerk. I tried, to no avail. Turns out once they come to life, they're immune to the efforts of our minds. So this is their last resort. They sent me up here to try and reason with the guy. \n\nAfter a short walk accompanied by a couple of professionals, we reached him. \n\n\"Hammy!\" I shouted up at him, regretting my choice to imagine him being 30 feet tall. He froze when he heard my voice. Suddenly, his gremlin-esque face softened and he turned to look at me. \n\n\"Buddy?\" His voice was a cross between Scooby Doo and Frankenstein. I wanted to roll my eyes and 8 year old me.\n\n\"Hey man, what's up? Listen pal, you gotta cut it out with the rocks, okay? It's hurting people, causing destruction. It's not cool! Do you understand?\" I asked, wanting to get this over with. He stared at me, silent for a long moment. His lip began to quiver. \n\n\"Ah, geez, don't cry, okay? Please do not cry!\" I pleaded, but I was too late. Giant monsoon tears poured from his hairy brown face. \n\n\"Buuuuuddy!\" He wailed, dropping his rocks, which came tumbling down alongside his tears. Next thing I know, I'm being scooped up. He squished me into his chest, giving me the most surreal hug of my entire existence. Then a familiar song started to play, one by Justin Bieber that I couldn't quite put my finger on. That didn't stop me from busting out my funky routine. It didn't take long for Hamburger and the astronauts to follow my footsteps like we practiced. \n\n\"1-2-3-\"\n\n\n\n\"Mandy? Hello? Mandy, are you in there?\" Her mother asked, shaking her shoulder. \"You're staring off into space again. Mandy giggled at this. \n\n\"My friend Charlie found his old friend Hamburger. They're dancing now.\" Mandy recalled to her mother, who rolled her eyes and began to walk away. \n\n\"The imagination on that one, my goodness.\" She mumbled. "
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[WP] "I used to be..."
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"In love, happy, completely blind to what was realy going on. I used to live every day smiling in a misguided wonder oblivious to the fact that i was loosing her , that the beautiful eyes that never left my own now wondered upon another. i used to be such a fool.\n\nNow as time goes on, i replay and stress over every action what i could have done differently what i should have done differently, how can i get her back.\n\nLost in the memory that should have been devoured by time. While my lost fairys loved and cherished the way she should be and this cave mans sitting in his cave made his own bed stuck in the sealed jar of his tempest head. I used to be. Now i just am. ",
"www.deviantart.com/art/Hand-Of-The-Jade-Dragon-134689281 by MarioWibisono\n\nI used to be. I used to be the hands of the Jade Dragon. My family's ancestral guardian animal. Until my brother grew evil in his heart and head from the influence of his wife,who was out to destroy us for some imagined misdeeds her family committed without her knowledge. It was all a plot to acquire our prime lands in the area. Greed,corruption, jealousy and the pursuit of power ran rampant in their hearts and minds. We found this too late. \n\nOur family went up in smoke and flames the night they attacked us and burned our land and lives down. I can still hear the roars of the Jade Dragon as it fought to escape and burned. They echo in my mind. I used to be the hands of the Jade Dragon,riding it through the countryside. That was freedom. No more. I am Jade. I am vengeance and I will have it. He and I are one now. I have his mark. Fear us.\n \n",
"I used to be able to sleep through the night, now I just lay there into the late hours of the night. I told him not to do it, told him that there was still a way out. But he was to stubborn to listen. Can't blame him though, he took after me. But ever since the incident, I just lay there in my empty bed, staring at the ceiling, in an empty house.\n\nI was finally home from work; we were extremely short handed, causing me to work multiple doubles throughout the week. I haven't seen my family in days, let alone eaten a warm meal. I was looking forward to tonight. \"Jess I'm home,\" I call out as I'm taking my work boots off by the front door. Looks like I'm going to have to replace these, the sole is almost gone, there's a tear on the side as well. As I began to make my way into the house, I could smell something burning in the kitchen. I was greeted by the site of a grease fire on the stove. Turning the stove off, and smothering the flame, I call out the my wife once more, \"Jess where ar...\" \"Get away from me! She deserves what she has coming to her!\" \n\nI make my way upstairs, taking three steps at a time, I round the corner and see my wife on her knees crying hysterically. \"Tyler please don't do this!\", Jess pleaded. I couldn't comprehend what was happening, Tyler had his sister by the hair in one hand, and a hammer in the other. Approaching slowly with my arms out, trying to look as passive as possible, \"Tyler I don't know what's going on here, but please let Amber go.\" \"No! She deserves this! She has beaten and bullied me for the last time!\" Tyler said with a look of hatred in his eyes. \"Tyler plea...\" Tyler began to raise the hammer, looking down at his older sister. I could feel my reflexes kicking in. I reached for my side arm...\n\nJessica left me after the incident. She couldn't stand the site of me any more. Said that all she could see was Tyler when she looked at me. She moved back to California with her mother, taking Amber with her. I haven't spoken with Amber since then either. Now I spend most of my nights just laying in my bed, in an empty house. I used to be able to sleep through the night, now I just lay here, staring at my ceiling.\n\nEdit: Some misspelled words",
"I used to be a Good Man. \nI used to be someone love in my heart, fire in my soul and a reason to carry on. \nI used to be a Hero.\n\nI was a Soldier. \nI was someone with peoples lives in my hands, a weight on my shoulders and orders to follow. \nI was a Warrior.\n\nI became a Weapon. \nI became someone with dark purpose, rage flowing in my veins and a broken spirit. \nI became a Killer.\n\nI am a Twisted Old Fool. \nI am someone with nothing to fight for, no one left to care and a cold empty shell where my heart belongs. \nI am...\n\nBut I used to be."
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[WP] You're an infamous pirate and known by everyone. But it's not because of plundering, stealing, or being ruthless
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"\"They say he's Bulletproof.\" \n\"Aye, but what of his many conquests?\" \n\"Conkwestes?\" \n\"Well, he *is* a Pirate, isn't he? Can't be a Pirate without stealing anything...\"\n\"Oh, right... Well, I s'pose he mus' of, musn't he... But I never heard nuffink 'bout what, like...\"\n\nI sigh and leave the poor moron to his ale. Seventeen. That's how many people had heard of Danny Black, the Scourge of the Southern Ocean. All feared the man who had, so the story goes, had five bullets in head and spat them back at the men who fired the shots. And how many could actually name any of the many crimes attributed to me?\n\nThat's right... None. Nobody, not one, remembered how I stole the Heart of the Ocean. Or how Danny Black had made news across the empire when he kidnapped the Daughter of a Nobleman. Oh they remembered how the hangman's noose had left me unscathed apart from minor rope burn, but they didn't remember the crime that left me there in the first place.\n\nIt's almost insulting when people can't even recognize public enemy number one when he's buying them a pint.",
"\"Now now, Michael. Are you really going to do this again?\"\n\nMy eyes narrowed as I raised my pistol, holding it millimetres away from the general's face. \"General, despite what you and the rest of your army seem to think, I am still a pirate.\"\n\nThe General of course, had the nerve to simply smirk \"So what?\"\n\nSo what? SO WHAT! \"Oh, you know... Being a pirate means I like to steal stuff. Including all of the gold on this ship.\" As I said this, I shoved the pistol forward, pressing it right against the General's head. \n\nThe General however, didn't stop smirking.\"That won't be necessary.\" \n\nI frowned. \"What do you mean?\" \n\nThe older man simply grabbed my pistol in response, wrenching it out of my hands before I had the chance to blink. \"The gold is a gift.\" He finally answered, twirling my pistol around his fingers as if it were a gift. \n\n\"Like I said, I'm a pirate. People don't give me gifts, I steal them.\" At least this explained what the General was doing on such a fancy ship.\n\nSaid General still didn't seem convinced of my pirate status. \"Yes, well most pirates go to the Royal palace to steal gold too, not to save the princesses' life.\" He raised an eyebrow.\n\nI grimaced. \"That was a one-time occurrence only!\"\n\n\"Of course it was\" the General replied, his voice laced thick with sarcasm. \"So was that King's life you saved from the neighbouring country, and all of those villages.\"\n\n\"And,\" the man continued as he threw my pistol towards me. \"When you saved my life two weeks ago.\" His voiced wavered towards the end, a rare show of weakness.\n\n\"Only an idiot would give a pirate a gun\" I tried to deflect, smiling weakly. \n\n\"Not when the pirate had kept the gun on safety the entire time.\" The General began to walk away, ignoring how I had froze.\n\n\"Where are you going?\" I asked.\n\n\"Back to my ship\" the man kept on walking. \"Despite what you think Michael, you're a hero, not a pirate\"\n\n\"You're wrong.\" I denied. \n\nThe General laughed after hearing what I said, years of battle cries and desperate orders echoed in how gravelly it sounded. \n\n\"Yet your crew seems to agree with me.\" Was all he said before disembarking. \n\nI didn't believe him. \n\nNot until my crew frog-marched me to the royal palace two months later, at least. \n"
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[WP] A curse has been placed on you causing each day of your life to get progressively more boring. Yesterday you sat on the couch eating Cheetos all day.
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"I remember the day he uttered those words.\n\n\"Each day that passes, your interest wanes\n\nUntil your apathy is all that remains!\"\n\nYeah I'm sure, mate. I'd got into my 1st choice of University, made some great friends and my fresher year had only just started. He was just a bum shouting at anyone who looked his direction. I paid no attention to him, I was having an awesome time out in town and was probably too pissed to care.\n\nThis memory came to me on a Monday morning. I'd dragged myself out of bed after making sure my alarm wasn't going to squeal at me a second time, then checked the newspaper over a cup of coffee to see if anyone had anything interesting going on. Nothing. Just the usual \"Man gets rescued from river\" or something like that. Even my music managed to shuffle to the few songs I'd favourited on a whim but never wanted to listen to. I gave up on that idea and just got myself ready to leave for my working day instead.\n\nWalking out of the door, the stale air of the city filled my nose, and the rows of semi-decrepit houses lined my path. Nothing seemed to pique my interest and that was a fair change from what I remember of my younger years.\n\nI used to live on a street where everyone had stories to tell, where you could overhear many conversations, where each person's worlds collided in audio form. My friends and I were a cheeky bunch, and our worlds were a bit louder than usual. No-one minded though and they laughed, it was just boyish behaviour. We were all in a football team together, meeting in the first year and playing until the last before we went our separate ways in life.\n\nBut that was all in the past, it seemed. Now I was stuck with this boring sight.\n\nNot that student halls are MEANT to look nice. It was my first day of lectures and I was looking forward to starting Physics with Nanotechnology. I had a pretty busy day ahead, unlike yesterday.\n\nYesterday I spent all day just sitting on my couch, eating Cheetos and nursing the hangover I suffered from the fresher's party. No noises. No distractions. No other sign of life to make me do anything.\n\nYesterday was fantastic.\n\n**This is my first prompt so any tips are advised =)**"
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[WP] Write a scene from any Star Wars movie from the point of view of a random soldier.
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"\"A fucking Jedi dude!\" NUJ19 said between chugs of beer. \"With a lightsaber and everything!\"\n\n\"Yeah right, Nudge,\" the bar keep said. \n\n\"I'm not kidding! Lord Vader dueled him and killed the dude!\"\n\n\"Wait Vaber's a Jedi? Is that why he has that weird strangle thing?\" WND81 asked.\n\n\"He's a Smith, Wendy\" JKL88 interjected. \n\n\"Whatever,\" NUJ19 continued, \"Anyway, so this old guy was sword fighting Lord Vader. Vader killed him with a lightsaber! Get this though. No body. Creepy man. The Jedi dude turned the tractor beam off and helped Leia Organa escape with Han Solo and that wookie. I tried firing at them, but until we can get an upgrade on these blasters I can't shoot the backside of a wampa.\" WND81 raised his eyebrows at the last comment.\n\n\"Oh,\" they all said.\n\n\"You got one of those,\" JKL88 said.\n\n\"One of what?\"\n\n\"The defects. They give defective blasters to stormtroopers deemed unfit for battle, either tactically, physically, or...\" he trailed off.\n\n\"Or?! Or what? I'm getting fired!? I got a wife man!\"\n\n\"No one gets fired in the Empire,\" WND81 laughed and waved away NUJ19. \"But, when a trooper is considered a flight risk or physiologically unsound, they get a defect,\" he said. \"The crazies get defects.\"\n\nA silence split between them. WND81 sniffed his beer while JKL88 looked anywhere but at NUJ19.\n\n\"Oh come on guys! I'm not nuts! I saw a freaking Jedi!\"",
"The Walkers approached through the canyon, the ground shaken even as they were still kilometers off. The froze the sweat on my lip almost immediately, but I was totally numb to it. Echo Base was manned almost exclusively by SpecForce commandos. We were the headquarters of the Rebellion, and we had the best training and gear we could get our hands on. Despite the retreat from the Mid Rim, we were still confident of our chances... Or rather, we had been. Those walkers were easily 30 meters tall, and most of us knew their armament by heart: twin chin pointed turbolasers, side mounted heavy blaster cannons, room for entire platoons of elite troopers. And the rumor was that the Executor was in orbit, which ment these were regulars coming after us, they were Vader's Fist, the 501st legion, the Stormtroopers that made Stormtroopers nervous. \n\nAnd all we had were some outdated artillery pieces, snow, and the Force... which none of us could put our faith in on the battlefield. \n\nThe first volley blew a hole in our center line. The AT-STs sprinted up out flank, the blaster cannons ripping through us as they sprinted around our heavy guns. We broke out the ion torpedoes, hoping we didn't waste them all trying to hold back the two legged bastards. I cheered like hell when the fist one went up in a ball of fire and smoke. My elation only went higher when we heard that the second transport was away. \n\nThen the AT-AT's opened up. We returned fire, but every time we landed a hit, we got a bright flash and the AT-AT turned on our guns like they were at worst Tesfli piercers, annoyances meant to be swatted away. Rogue squadron flew over us, rushing headlong into the blaster fire. I was infantry, so flyboys had always annoyed me, but today, I prayed for the poor bastards. We all cheered, thinking now we had a chance. One by one, those speeders crashed, their blasters worthless against the might of the Imperial war machine. But they did it,, two of the AT-ATs went down, their carcasses smoking dark against the pale blue of the sky. We fell back, running as hard as we could. My best friend Hobbie kept up with me, despite carrying a repeating blaster cannon on his back. We thought were were almost clear when the sniper shot took him out. It was a clean shot, straight through the back of his head, our his open mouth. He died instantly, But it made me stop.\n\nAll around their was nothing but carnage. It wasn't a battle, the Imperials were slaughtering us. Our artillery was in tatters, our air support all but wiped out, and our front line, or what was left of it, was in a full on route. We scattered to our rendezvous', AT-STs and foot patrols chasing us the whole way. I saw an abandoned Juggernaut start rolling towards the main base, and it looked like it was picking up stragglers from the retreat. The AT-ATs had moved off towards the Shield Generator. \n\nWe barely made it to the transport before the shield went down.",
"I tell you man, the entire planet literally blew up! I was in orbit on one of the Com. Ship custodian vessels and saw it with my own eyes. Like, everybody in the corps has heard of the records of the old death stars, you would have thought that the designers would have thought of not creating a massive weak point, you know? Like, you thought they would know how to make stuff bomb proof by now, you know? What is this, 500BBY? \nAnd don't get me started on the new Vader guy, everyone telling stories that he's the shit, that he stops time and can move a house with his mind. Then you get my buddies down the infirmary, they said he was carried onboard for evacuation all sorts of FUBARed. No one knows where they took him, but I tell you, I wouldn't want to be in his shoes right now.\nI mean, what the hell man, is this what we trained for? We haven't even send a squadron at a real battlefield yet and we got the deathstar blown up. Not that I'm eager to go and get blasted by some sand sludgeman or something, but man, the brass has its collective head so far up its collective ass that I won't be surprised if they get us all obliterated before we even get to hit something, you know?",
"We were riding low on these gunships and I still didn't know what this little green guy next to me was so important because he talked so funny. And he had a cane, why were we taking order from a little green guy with a cane. The planet we were on looked like a war had already been fought here. It was a wasteland and smelled like bug. Before I knew we were dropping down into a colosseum full of bugs, battle droids, and Jedi. At least I think they were, they all had the lightsabers and were surrounded by droids. But we clones know how to make an entrance. \n\nI started opening fire with my DLT-55 on the battle droids that did not hesitate to open fire on us. The battle had begun. I had been waiting for this moment ever since my first training module. I had to let my weapon cool down because I had unleashed a round on the arena, hoping I didn't hit a Jedi. Lasers from the side of our ship begin to start mowing down droids. Explosions left and right, blaster fire everywhere. It was exhilarating. We had followed the little green man’s order to form a perimeter around the survivors. \nI began to feel the gunship lower to the arena floor. My heart begins to beat faster in sync with brother's around me. I hopped off the gunship and began lining my sights with droids. After I knock down a couple droids I begin to hip fire since I see the Jedi climbing onto the ships. To my left one of my brother’s goes down and I hop up on to the last gunship. We fly out of the arena and begin heading towards the wasteland. \nSeveral gunships have joined our sides and the Cruisers are flying above to land in the back of the battlefield. AT-TE are already being deployed and the clone army has begun to march on the Separatist. My gunship lands and I regroup with my unit. We are led by a Jedi with a green saber, but I don’t even notice that before red laser are interrupting my surrounding. I begin firing my blaster with no aim. Rockets go over my ead and blow up an AT-TE behind me. I see a gunship crash land. Trooper bodies were everywhere. And then even bigger laser opened fired opened fire on one of the space stations. The insides were getting destroyed and then it collapsed. Dust and sand blew up. With our tactical helmets we could spot the droids with ease. And before we knew it, the droid army was in full retreat. \n",
"So I'm standing around following orders when some shit starts to happen. My squadron has been stationed on some podunk no-system planet for the last three days looking for some rebel scum.\n\nThere's nothing here and nothing to do. It's not that big of a world and the only thing here of any significance is the one spaceport. So of course that's where we are... doing the old block by block.\n\nWe're maybe halfway through the search pattern when the com channels light up. Rebels spotted! Yah fuckin hoo right? For all of maybe ten seconds I'm like \"Yeah let's blast 'em so we can get outta here and go someplace more interesting!\"\n\nAnd then I hear it on my comm. A first, it wasn't too clear. But then, a couple more times, one of the other guys yells out \"Jedi!\" This is the absolute last thing a trooper ever wants to hear. It's really hard to understand if you've never seen a Jedi in action.\n\nThey're like supersoldiers or something. No blasters, just a lightsaber. They can jump around all over the place and they've got some kind of telekinetic abilities. I've heard stories from guys who swear a Jedi messed with their heads somehow... or just brushed them aside with a wave of their hand. I've seen guys set down blaster fire on target and get hit by a shitty rebound off of their lightsaber.\n\nTroopers are plenty tough. But we've got some limits and we talk amongst ourselves too. So when the action comes my way I just do what we talked about doing if we ever ran into *them*. \n\nI just hang back and aim so far off target that no Jedi in the galaxy can rebound my own shot back at me.\n\nThat was 20 minutes ago. The rebels and the Jedi got away and my CO is mad as hell. But every single guy in our unit is still alive. \n\nMission accomplished!"
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[WP] You are the Hunter from The most dangerous game, and one of the people you are hunting is...different
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"\"No! Please no! I beg you, don't shoot!\" He said, cowering against a tree, I lowered my gun, to make him feel... safer.\n\n\"Huh. It's not like you to beg, Casper. The game is almost over, just one last kill.\"\n\n\"You or me, huh?\" He replied. \"That simple?\"\n\n\"I think you're using the term simple, incorrectly.\"\n\n\"Doubtful. I'm one move away from slaughtering you, and you are one bullet away from victory. I'd say it's pretty simple.\"\n\nMy gaze ran down his left arm, he was grasping a long, thick branch. Tightly, I might add.\n\n\"Magnificent!\" I exclaimed. \"You say you are one move away from slaughtering me, but think carefully, analyze the situation. In making that one move, you'll seriously injure me, but after one bullet, you'd be the one bleeding out on the dirt, dying, and I've sustained more than a serious injury before. Much more.\"\n\nI lifted the gun, pointing the barrel straight at his fore head. \"Game over, Casper.\" He cried and pleaded with me to spare his life, not overly surprising. You can bring even the toughest man to his knees with the threat of death. I pulled the trigger.\n\nA gunshot roared through the silence of the woods, he lifted his head and met my gaze with tearful eyes.\n\n\"I'm... I'm not dead! Why did you do that?\"\n\n\"You are one of the weakest people to ever take part in this game, yet you acted the strongest. I have no idea how, but you've survived up until now, I could've killed you where you lay, but you're different. I need to know how you survived. I need to know everything about you. How are you among the last two standing? I won't kill you not yet at least.\"\n\n\"You still don't get it, huh? It's live or die, kill or be killed. Does Last Man Standing mean anything to you? I'm getting out of here, even if it means I have to kill you!\"\n\n\"You? Kill me? You haven't killed a single person here, but three different people have attempted to kill you. You should've been long dead. I'm gonna find out what makes you tick.\"\n\nIn a strange sense of de ja vu, a gunshot roared through the silence of the forest. I felt an odd stinging sensation and my legs turned to jelly.\n\nI fell to the ground in a thud. When I rolled over onto my back, I stared at the face of the game director.\n\n\"It is truly a dark time, when the only human in the game survives.\" He said, he then turned to the other man, \"Humans are the weakest creature, but they have survived the longest, this game proves as much.\"\n\nMy vision faded, and I awoke in a dark, dirty hospital. The horrid smells were driving me insane. "
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[WP] The protagonist is desperately trying to avoid harem shenanigans.
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"Shit! It's a beach episode again!\n\nSakibora Kizuki knew where he was even before Yan removed the sack over his head. The sound of the water, the rough feel of the grains of sand between his toes, the stench of fish... They all filled him with dread.\n\n\"Ta-da, Master!\" Yan rubbed up against Kizuki, chest especially, as she cut off the thick ropes restraining the poor guy. \"It's the beach, your favorite place in the world!\"\n\n\"Like hell it is...\" He thought to himself, careful not to show it on his face lest Yan jam the knife deep into his esophagus. He still had scars from the last time.\n\n\"So,\" Yan crooned. \"How do we look, Master?\"\n\nThe Dere sisters (Yan, Tsun, Kuu, Hime and Dere) lined up before the poor young man. Each wore a different swimsuit, lined with some sort of insipid pattern. All, but Tsun, beamed up at Kizuki expectantly. Kizuki died a little inside.\n\nIt wasn't the first time, nor the last, that Kizuki found himself reminiscing upon how he had ended up living a life of constant harem horror. He was so naive back then, so unaware of how these sort of stories work.\n\nHe thought he had hit the jackpot when he found a flyer for a maid service left at his apartment door. Five professional maids, The Dere Sisters, will clean your home absolutely free. It sounded too good to be true. And it was. Oh, it was. But, in that moment, all Kizuki could imagine was sparkling floors and pennies saved.\n\nHow was he to know the Dere Sisters were a herd of catgirl-maid-psychopaths intent on making him into the protagonist of some shoddy H-game?!\n\n\"...You look exactly like you looked last time you dragged me here.\" Kizuki finally responded.\n\n\"Eh!?\" Tsun shouted. \"What are you talking about! We added stripes to the bikinis this time! Stripes!\"\n\nShe stopped herself and turned an aggressive shade of red known as Aggravated Ms-Paint Red.\n\n\"Not that I expected you to notice. Baka.\"\n\nKill me, Kizuki thought to himself.\n\n\"Right, well then...\" He sighed. \"You go have fun and I'll go... watch the car.\"\n\n\"Eh!?\"\n\nDere grabbed onto Kizuki and pouted.\n\n\"You're not going to join us? Don't you want to raise more flags on our routes?!\"\n\n\"Not particularly.\"\n\nKizuki's blunt reply caught Dere off guard and she tilted her head sadly.\n\n\"But you're the protagonist.\" She sulked. \"You're supposed to be eager to engage in this sort of thing.\"\n\nA vein on Kizuki's forehead pulsed and he snapped.\n\n\"And I keep telling you!\" He glared. \"I don't want to be the protagonist!\"\n\n\"But why?\" They whined in unison.\n\nThis wasn't the first time they had asked, nor would it be the last.\n\n\"Because I'm just not interested in this... whole thing!\"\n\nKizuki threw up his arms in frustration.\n\n\"Oh.\" Hime chimed in, seemingly getting it. \"So Master is like *that*.\"\n\n\"Sorry, what?\"\n\n\"It's fine!\" She chirped, clapping her hands together. \"If catgirls aren't your type, I'll ring up the Bara Butler Brothers and they'll-\"\n\n\"Woah woah woah!\" Kizuki waved his hands frantically. Burly butlers was the last thing he needed right now. \"That's not what I meant!\"\n\nHe sighed.\n\n\"I'm telling you that I don't have time for a girlfriend, let alone an entire harem! I mean, I'm working on a degree, working a part time job to sustain it, and trying to use my very little leisure time to it's maximum. I mean, do I look like the kind of guy who has time for these shenanigans? Look at me, I'm going grey and bald at age 20! I'm trying to juggle a million stresses at once! I've got things to do!\n\nSo, maybe we got off on the wrong foot. I thought you were just here to clean my place, I certainly didn't think that... whatever this is came with the package...\"\n\nHe shook his head.\n\n\"So, if we could just let me go home and forget about all this... That'd be nice.\"\n\nThe Dere Sisters were at a loss for words. For once, Kizuki had decided to stand up to the group. For once, he had made them think about his position outside of being their plaything. For once...\n\n\"Hup!\"\n\n\"Eh? Hold on. What the fu-\"\n\nIn one swift moment, Yan picked up Kizuki and tossed him into the ocean. Pleased with herself, she dusted off her hands and smiled.\n\n\"I much prefer Master when he's not talking!\" She giggled."
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[WP] One day there is a knock at the door, opening you find yourself face to face with your exact double. They tell you that because you haven't managed to achieve it, they are here to replace you and get things back on track.
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"My first jab was quick and well placed but so was his, our fists met and we both recoiled. \"I too always aim for the throat.\" His voice was annoying, i hated the way i sounded.\n\nHe pushed in with a kick and crashed over the key dish next to the door. My cats ran from the noise and i took several steps back to reclaim myself. \"What are you doing here?\" He gave me a wide breadth of space to make sure i knew he meant no harm.\n\n\"In two days she gets in a car accident\" I realize only now he isn't identical but older than me, not by much maybe a few years. He closes the door behind himself and we sit down. \"Listen, i know this is hard but we need to work together to make sure she doesn't,\" He choked up. I can tell he has genuine emotions, not some government puppet like the last clone. \"Die...\" He finished with a few tears forming around the edges of his water line. \n\n\"It took me 3 years but i broke into a high end military facility that was working on time travel. I'm here with the soul motivation of coming back to make sure i don't need to come back.\"\n\nIn this time he closed the gap of space between us and put a hand on my shoulder. I knew i had to help him.\n\n\"Shes my wife, our wife, please. I can't live witho...\" That's as much as he could choke out before i put the knife in his throat. My warm blood pooled onto the carpet in waves around my hand. He really was real.\n\nMy body went limp around me and my full weight dropped forward towards me, My hands slipped from the blood and my body hit the ground with a carpet muffled thud.\n\nSeveral soft thunks against the door made me panic a little inside.\n\"Honey open the door my hands are full.\"\n\n\nHopefully i could save us",
"... I must admit, I had expected this to happen eventually. When I first heard about the Replacers, I had to take a long and hard look at my own life. After my second year in college, everything had seemed to go downhill; I had barely graduated with a degree in History (I started school as an Aerospace Engineer), I work at my dad's convenience store, and I haven't managed to keep a relationship going for long enough to buy an anniversary gift. Hell, I don't even remember to brush my teeth most days. So when he showed up on my doorstep, I wasn't surprised.\n\n\n\"Hi, I'm....\" he began.\n\n\n\"Yeah. I'm gonna stop you right there. I know who you are. I saw you walk up the driveway. You're here to replace me, right?\"\n\n\n\"More like I am here to get us back on track.\"He smiled. God, is *that* how smug I look when I smile? \"We could lived a much better life. Remember that cute Biology major we met one night in the Starbucks? We were supposed to date her, and eventually marry her. That internship at Lockheed? We were supposed to get that, and it was supposed to lead to a job at NASA. Remember that hot fashion designer that Gordon met in Boston? We were supposed to go with him to her fashion show, in *Milan*! But instead, we live in dumpy Ojai, work at the dumpy Cash'n'Dash, and live a dumpy life. So here's what's going to happen. I am taking the wheel, and you are going to disappear.\"\n\n\n\"You're going to kill me?\"\n\n\n\"What? No, no. You are going to literally disappear. When I get our life back on track, you will begin to psychically fuse into me, until you eventually cease to exist as a separate person; then, we dispose of your old body, and we live the rest of our lives as a pair in my body. Together, we will become a better us; all the success we deserve, with all of our original personality.\"\n\n\n\"Sounds like a bunch of crap.\"\n\n\n\"Maybe, but what do we have to lose? Ready to be Replaced?\"",
"A day's worth of procrastinating and dreaming left me regretfully unsatisfied. Why did I continue to do avoid my priorities if I felt so bad about not doing them? Wouldn't my life be more achieving if I just did what I told myself I was going to do? Easier said then done I suppose. \n\nA knock came from the other side of my door while I was reciting my typical Thursday night of doing nothing more than playing video games and being lazy. The brief sound made me jump from my seat. I wasn't used to getting any visitors at anytime, let alone this time of the night. Convinced my mind was just playing tricks on me I switched my attention back to my TV. Another knock, another sudden turn of my head towards the entrance. This time it was real. I trembled to my feet and cautiously walked towards the door. All sorts of possibilities of what will happen next racing through my head. \"Who's...who's there?\" my eerie voice gave away my vulnerability. \n\n\"You.\" A familiar voice answered immediately. My body and mind paused. \n\n\"Who?\" \n\n\"It's you.\" The voice was calm and confident in contrast to mine. \n\n\"I'm sorry, I don't know anybody named You.\" Why did I say that. \n\n\"My name is Harrison Baldt Jorgerforsson. My mother died when I was five and I was raised by my father and his multiple girlfriends in San Francisco. I like football and basketball and played it until my senior year of highschool. I enjoy reading, bicycling and absolutely love movies.\" How could this be? Was I being confronted by my own impostor? Surely some prank was being pulled on me by some lonely no life college kids. Everything he said was about me was true. \n\n\"What was the name of my second grade teacher?\" I responded, secretly intrigued by the game the man was playing with me. \n\n\"Miss. Harden.\" He answered in a heartbeat. \n\n\"Okay....good research you did there. Who was my first kiss?\" I had him tricked now. The only person in the whole world who knew who my first kiss was is the girl herself.\n\n\"Emily Dober, sixth grade, behind the bleachers.\" He was right. My jaw dropped as had no idea how to go forth with this situation. We shared a brief moment of silence before curiosity got the best me. In a cautious tone I opened the door only to see my eyes staring right back at me. I was staring a reflection, a perfect resembling duplicate of myself. As if I was staring at a mirror. He was smiling at me like he knew exactly what my face would look like when I saw him. We maintained eye contact with each other for a long and awkward time and shared the silence of the night outside. \"Hello Harry.\" The man said. \n\nI was convinced what I was seeing was not real. That this surreal and enigmatic moment was not happening. My eyes were questioning all of the logical knowledge that I had accumulated throughout the years. Perhaps my sense of feel would bring me back to reality. With a shaky hand and still sharing eye contact, I patted the mans right shoulder and examined it. The man who claims was me was as real as the sun in the sky, or birds singing in a park. \"I've come to take over Harry.\" The man cautioned. ",
"The ball rang again,\n\nI rush for the door.\n\nSeeing my exact double,\n\nI fall on the floor.\n\n \n\nHe seems disappointed,\n\nSays I didn't followed the plan.\n\nBut I did my best\n\nHe says he doesn't give a damn.\n\n \n\nHe says,\n\nHe will replace me,\n\nand get back things as they should be,\n\nI ask about me,\n\nHe says, *Soon you will see*\n\n \n\nThis is crazy\n\nit must be a dream\n\nI try to get out of it\n\nI try to scream.\n\n \n\nThe dream did not break\n\nSo I try to realize\n\nAbout the reality\n\nAnd what wrong did I!\n\n \n\nI am happy, I am wealthy\n\nMy mind and body healthy.\n\nMy relationship is steady\n\nIt's everything I want to be! \n\n \n\n*Stop your stupid thoughts*\n\n*There is a basic thing you didn't crossed*\n\n*We gave you 30 years and you didn't pass*\n\n*And now is your end, Alas!*\n\n \n\nMy body starts to fade\n\nSudden spike in heart rate\n\nStill sure its a mistake\n\nI finally ask \"Why this fate?\"\n\nAnd he casually answers,\n\n**You were meant to fail!**\n\nEdit: Changed a line for better rhyme.",
"\"What is this?\" Ralph asked, gazing upon his clone.\n\n\"I have very little time to explain. I thought you would have-rather-will solve it by now.\"\n\n\"What the hell is that supposed to mean!?\"\n\n\"The timeline. It has been, well, in your case, will be altered. I am not your clone. I'm you. From the future, that is. And I need to fix the timeline.\"\n\n\"What if you can't?\"\n\n\"I have no idea. And I-we cannot afford finding out.\"\n\n---\n\nThe jump worked. Ralph Higgins found himself in a world very much alive. It was a first test jump with a craft containing a new, experimental engine, capable of connecting two points in space and time together, dubbed the wormhole drive. He set it to take him backward two days in time. It was having some technical difficulties. Michael said he had worked out the issues, and, so far, they don't seem to have resurfaced. After doing some touring, he concluded the test was successful. He went back into his craft and plotted a course back into real time. The engine whirred itself to life, creating a space-time window and taking the vessel through.\n\nUnfortunately for Ralph Higgins, creating a wormhole entry generates a very large shockwave from the energy not taken through the event horizon. A shockwave he could feel. It took a couple of minutes for him to recover. When he did, he wasn't greeted by his lab assistant, rather the shaft of a gun.\n\n\"Get out. I am taking this ship,\" a deep, grating voice replied.\n\n\"Where to?\"\n\n\"That is none of your business.\"\n\nHiggins could not allow this to fall into anyone else's hands. He only had one option. He charged at the man. The man responded in kind, and he could charge no more.\n\n---\n\nGary could not believe his eyes when he heard about it, scouring the deep web. *A time machine. That's impossible! But could it be...* His wife, Rosalinda, died a week earlier. Stage 4 breast cancer. And Gary would do anything to see her living face again, to touch her once more. That includes stealing a time machine.\n\nHe pinpointed the exact location of the machine, a warehouse in Nevada. He grabbed his Glock, a box of ammunition, and some rope, and he drove like a madman.\n\nUpon reaching the warehouse, he noticed that there were very few guards surrounding the warehouse. Only two at the entrance, one bullet for each.\n\nUpon entering, he was greeted by three scientists. Two of them fainted. Gary tied the third to a pole.\n\n\"Where is the machine?\" Gary spoke with a booming voice.\n\n\"What machine?\" The scientist asked, fear audible in his voice.\n\n\"The time machine. Where is it?\" Gary was becoming impatient.\n\n\"I think what you're talking about. See, it's not a time machine, it's a space time trans-\" Gary fired a bullet into the scientist's folder. \"Okay! Okay! Please don't shoot again! It's gone right now, but it will be back in 15 minutes! Just, please, leave me alone!\"\n\n\"Thank you,\" Gary replied. He fired a second bullet, and the scientist dropped to the floor.\n\nSo, Gary waited those 15 minutes. First, he felt it. Then, he saw it. The machine appeared in front of him. He went up to it, and found a man visibly disoriented. He put the gun against his forehead.\n\n\"Get out. I am taking this ship,\" Gary said.\n\n\"Where to?\" The man replied.\n\n\"That is none of your business.\"\n\nThe man charged at Gary, who fired by impulse. The man slumped to the floor, and Gary entered the machine. Upon reaching the control panel, he realized he had no idea how to operate it, and anyone who knew was either unconscious or dead, and the military was hot on his tail. Gary started mashing buttons at random, until a prompt came up.\n\n*Location: 41.84°N, 87.68°W. Time: -172800 seconds.* Gary had no better option at the time, and selected the option. Gary felt the same shockwave he had earlier as the drive activated. But what he felt next was new. A collision.\n\n---\n\nHiggins was almost back to the vessel from his first test jump when he was taken aback by a shockwave. A wormhole exit had formed, and another vessel, identical to his emerged, but one of the safeguards had failed. The drive was supposed to check if there was matter in the destination area and move locations if there was. It had failed, and the vessel collided into Higgins'. What he heard next as scarier.\n\n\"CORE CONTAINMENT FAILURE. CRITICAL MASS IN ONE MINUTE.\" The second vessel was damaged due to the collision. Higgins had no idea how to react.\n\n\"CRITICAL MASS IN THIRTY SECONDS.\"\n\nSuddenly, Higgins had an idea. He got into his own vessel, and set a new destination.\n\n\"CRITICAL MASS IN FIVE, FOUR, THREE, TWO, ONE.\"\n\n---\n\nRalph felt the ground shake like it never did before, knocking him over. He regained his footing and turned on the news.\n\n\"A massive explosion has leveled the city of Chicago. All residents are encouraged to stay inside.\" He could not believe what he was hearing. Then, he heard a knock on his door. Ralph opened, and just when he thought he couldn't be surprised any further, he saw the person who greeted him.",
"\"Yeah, I can see why. Do you need me to go over anything with you?\"\n\n\"Unfortunately, I'm already filled with all your memories. We just need to complete this transfer paperwork and submit it to the boss\"\n\nWe sit down at my coffee table and begin to go through the papers. \"Sign here\" and \"initial here\" and providing copies of my information for the last few years. The time ticks by as we silently shuffle through the work, and we are finished. \n\n\"Alright, time for you to go back to nonexistence. I've got it from here.\" I stand in the center of my living room holding the paperwork and I begin to be able to see through my hands. This guy seems so motivated, so assured, so confident. \n\nHe pulls out a gun. \"Alright then, time to kill my wife and kids\"\n\n\"Wait, what?\" And then I'm gone.",
"\"Wait, what? I'm being replaced? What the hell happens to me then?\"\n\nMy double rolled his eyes. \"Whatever the hell you want,\" he said, pushing me aside as he walked in. \n\nIt all started to sink in. \"You mean I can just sit around and play video games all day?\" I asked, starting to feel very excited. \"This is like a dream come true.\"\n\n\"Clearly,\" he said, looking around my apartment. Empty pizza boxes and bottles littered the room. \"Looks like you're living it already.\"\n\nI frowned. \"But I still have to work,\" I said, pointing at my suit laying crumpled on the floor, \"and I hate what I do.\"\n\nHe nodded, and started rummaging around. \"Yep, you really do. Shame you're totally being forced to.\" He found a large plastic bag, and began methodically filling it with all the empty bottles. \n\n\"Not like you can just get a different job or anything.\" \n\n\"Yea!\" I said, then thought for a bit. Was he being facetious?\n\n\"Not like you could finally admit that your apathy is really just a mixture of laziness and self-loathing, right? Not like you could make gradual steps to being happy again, right?\" \n\nHe threw the bag full of bottles into the corner with a crash. \n\n\"Not like you could just make a goddamn effort to improve your life, *right?*\"\n\nI stared at him, then the ground. I wanted to say something, but what could I?\n\nHe thrust open the curtains, illuminating the room. It was already looking different - not the awful, dreary place it had been before. It had only taken him a few minutes. \n\nHe turned back to me. \"Don't worry, you can sit down and drink and play games. I'll get things back on track.\"\n\nI sat down heavily on the couch, watching him work. My room, my entire living area, changed before my eyes. It was clean, almost hopeful. \n\nThen he grabbed a pen and paper, and started writing out a 'To-Do' list. Everything on the list looked like small goals, and they all seemed strangely achievable. \n\nI began to feel uneasy; guilty even. \"Are you sure you don't want help with anything?\" I asked, reaching out towards him. \n\n\"It's fine,\" he said, waving me away, \"this is all super hard, remember?\"\n\nI sat down again, watching myself make steps towards living a better life. In half an hour my double had already done more than I had all year. \n\n**********\n\nI woke up. My apartment was dirty, dark. Like it had always been. \n\nI stared at the mess. \n\nThen I started looking for a plastic bag. "
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[WP]Pluto is sentient and highly mobile and back for revenge.
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"“Not a planet, eh? Just because you altered the requirements for something to be called a planet doesn’t mean you can just strip away my identity. How would you feel if I said that you have to be capable of feeling compassion to be called a human from now on? Doesn’t feel good, now does it? Suddenly not qualifying to be a human being anymore. I guess you’re actually a dwarf human.”\n\n“What was it again that I lacked? I have not yet cleared my orbit’s neighborhood? Have you seen how big it is? About 248 times larger than yours. That’s an awfully convenient requirement for you, isn’t it. With your tiny orbit.”\n\n“It’s also such a typical way of thinking from you earthlings. What’s wrong with leaving my neighborhood intact? Why does it always have to be about clearing with you people? I guess your country isn’t really a country either unless it has cleared out its neighborhood too. And when it has it will just have new neighbors. I bet that when I’ve cleared out my orbit’s neighborhood I still won’t be a planet in your eyes either. You’d probably come up with something new. All of a sudden I also need to clear out the entire sun’s neighborhood. Well, don’t worry, I will. When I’m done with clearing out my own neighborhood I’ll move on to the next, and the next, and the next. Until eventually, I’ll reach your poor excuse of an orbit, and I’ll clear that out too, together with your ‘Planet’ and everything on it. Mark my words. Your great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-grandchildren will feel my wrath!”\n"
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[WP] You just found the cure to a deathly disease but by sharing it with the world you'll be killing more people than the amount of people you'd save.
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"I am a coward. \n\nEver since I was a teenager I knew death was at the end of the tunnel. All my accomplishments, accolades, bonds, loves, and attire all meant nothing when you simplify it, but yet why do I hesitate. Is it because I'm only 35 that I hesitate to make the only logical choice here. What kind of a a man am I to invent a cure to lung cancer. A good man right? But what kind of a man am I to cure myself and kill others. A coward, and a proud one.",
"How does one stop being human?\n\nI think there are several ways to do it. The first one, the most obvious, is to cease existing, since if you aren't, you can't be human. The concept of \"not existing\" was hard for me to fathom at first, but I have gotten used to it by now. Ever since Project Life started producing results, I knew that I wouldn't be the only one in this situation. Several people, millions, maybe even more, would have to realize that not existing is their immediate futute. By the time it's done, they probably wouldn't mind, as any normal nonexistent does, but I can imagine that the transition, the realization creeping up on you that you as a thing will disappear from the world forever, isn't particularly easy. The human mind is so selfish, not realizing that they aren't the only thing that exists. They can't, so they are inherently selfish, prioritising their own existence over the existence of any number of others, because they never truly interact with one another. Every interaction, real or not, would be perceived through one's mind and thus, it would be subject to the selfish distortions of the self. For some, it's not a problem, as they do not seem to have any form of conciousness, their bodies acting automatically, hosting instinct driven minds of the disabled and mentally unstable. If we accept that humans have consciousness, and being conscious means existing, then they are already nonexistant, just lingering. For them, it's a matter of survival, some do not even consider them humans, just living, walking husks that turn food into feces. That, I think, is another way. And the third one, the one feared by most and experienced by few, is this sense of total disconnect, when you are, but aren't, shouldn't be, never should have, and yet your body still functions, it's still controlled by your conscious mind, yet you do not feel in possession of it, as if every order your brain barks at your limbs would tear them further apart. But is there a line between knowing and not knowing, controlling your body and losing it?\n\nIf it's true, and I am no longer human, then Project Life was a success. Despite the controversies sparked by the first ever result, most of us, researchers have since accepted our findings, and those who failed to do so swiftly conformed to them. Those who survived lead a blissful life in a mental ward, not knowing, not caring, but perfectly happy. Collins, if you read this, do not visit me there. Burn the records, burn the collected data, burn the research equipment. Destroy everything related to Project Life, just as it destroyed everyone related to it. The Cure - the solution to humanity's longest lasting disease means the destruction of humanity. It shall not be known to anyone, for it's not our decision to make. Humanity must reach consensus through unanimous vote, else there will be exceptions and they would destroy everything the Cure stands for. They shall realize for themselves, one by one, what is destroying them all. Until then, any exception, anyone careless enough to spread the ideas or the counters, would only make the situation much, much worse.\n\nI trust you, Collins. You're the only one still standing. Do this for humanity.\n\n\n--\nIt's not strictly related to the prompt, perhaps even a cliché, and it's 5:30 am here. I apologize."
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[WP]After successfully inventing a wearable teleporter, you regret making it so you have to get a running start to make it work.
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"Teleportation.\n\nI'm sure someone will figure out what went wrong.\n\nI've been staring at the darkness for two fucking days........ I mean, what was I thinking testing this thing out? The tests look promising and I made a mistake. One. Fucking. Mistake. \n\nI took a ragged breath and tried to calm myself. Fumbling around, I felt the same smooth walls, seamless and solid. It's small in here. I can touch the walls if I stretch my arms and turn in a circle. The ceiling is only about two feet above my head. It's dark, but there must be some kind of ventilation in here otherwise I would have suffocated already. I have yet to find any vents. I tried yelling for help periodically, but heard no response.\n\nTwo more days.\n\nThirsty. Weak. Mother? Is that you? Where's Dad?\n\nThirsty.....\n\nAs I slowly drift into unconsciousness, I think of my one mistake. Inventing a teleport device that requires you to run 7 miles an hour to activate it. \n\nThis is my first real submission, so please feel free to let me know what you think."
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Maybe it has a few anti-counterfeit measures yet to be implemented in 2016...
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[WP] While sorting through your wallet/purse, something about a $5 bill catches your attention: despite being completely authentic, the date on it is 2020.
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"I've never lead a perfect life. I have gotten into more fist fights than I can remember and taken more drugs than I can count. The voices tell me I'm normal even though everyone else say I'm not. I trust the voices. The bag I'm going through isn't mine, but I doubt I'll see the owner of it any time soon. That's the thing with stealing; if you get good at it, there are never any consequences.\n\nThat's what the voices tell me, at least. And they've always been right. *Jackpot*. A wad of five dollar bills tumbles out of the bag. I've always had a thing for numbers. Counting things, even just saying numbers makes me and the voices happy. There are so many numbers on bills that it's almost worth more just looking at one than actually spending it. Scratch my evening plans, I'm reading these numbers. Not that I had evening plans.\n\nNumbers. 2020. 2020. 2020. 2020. It was like that Justin Timberlake album all over again, but printed on cash. I could touch 2020. The voices tell me it's not about being able to see the money, but that the money was there. What's that supposed to mean? Sometimes I don't like the voices, but they've always been there for me so I let them have their opinion. 2020. That's not now, it's then. The soon to be then.\n\nSuddenly, I'm not feeling so good. Something had felt off about that woman, the voices remind me. My stomach is in knots. I've had panic attacks, but this is quickly becoming a terror attack. The voices aren't calming me, they're making things worse. I can feel myself stepping into madness with a slow, firm gate. My sixth sense cuts through the confusion to whisper that someone I know is coming towards me.\n\nIt's someone I knew and thought I'd never see again. I could fight if I could form a fist, but not even my eyes are blinking now. I had stolen the bag perfectly; why is she here? How could she have known? The money is on fire in my hands, but there's no flame. I throw them from me, in a moment wishing I could have them back to read their numbers again. Animal instinct was all that was driving me, though, and something was telling me the money was dangerous.\n\nBetween my inner voice and the voices in me, it was a surprise I could even hear hers. The money was hers, not mine, she told me. That's why I couldn't have it. In 2020 I would understand, she soothed. Maybe it was my broken form or something else, but she told me I was lucky that no one would believe me. Was she... from 2020? Or from beyond then? How much beyond? Maybe if I could count it, it would make sense.\n\nI tried to form words, to ask the questions the voices were screaming, but she was gone. I couldn't fight her. I couldn't get my money back. I couldn't get the drugs I needed. I couldn't make my life perfect. Not that I've ever lead a perfect life."
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[WP] You are the first person to climb Olympus Mons from base to summit. Tell your story.
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"Olympus Mons is twenty two kilometers high. Twenty two kilometers. To a hiker, it doesn't sound like much. But that's not the total distance. Not by a long shot. That was the height. Once I hit the peak, I would be twenty two kilometers above the Martian surface. The climb itself was longer and more arduous. Dozens of kilometers of red rocks and red sand, slowly angling up into the distance. There's a reason no one had climbed from base to summit before. Why leave the dome, just to see some mountain? Stupid, they said. Suicidal, they said.\n\nWorth it for the view, I said.\n\nThe preparations alone took weeks. An air recycler, nutrient efficiency packs, mobile moisture vaporators, and solar panels to power all of my gear. Backups as well- if something went wrong, help was days away at best. A trusty rover would be my only companion for my climb. He'd follow me up the slope, recording and learning. For him, this expedition was for more than simple sightseeing. \n\nPlanning out the route took another week. The slope was not well-documented, and I'd be trailblazing as well as scaling the mountain. \n\nThe moment I began my journey will be a moment I'll remember for the rest of my life. I stood at the base of the largest mountain known to man, stretching upwards beyond the horizon. I felt inferior. Inconsequential. Like a mortal at the base of the mythical Mount Olympus, staring upwards at the hall of the gods. Feeling a mixture of awe, anxiety, and apprehension, I took my first steps up the mountain. \n\nThe first week was the worst. My legs ached, and a little voice deep inside reminded me that it wasn't too late to turn back. It got easier from there. I settled into a routine. Eat, sleep, climb, repeat. For days on end, I scaled the mountain, only looking upwards and ahead.\n\nI don't actually know how many days had passed. Perhaps it was weeks. perhaps longer. I didn't remember. I didn't really care. The rover was recording those things. \n\nOne fateful morning, I found, to my astonishment, that I had run out of slope. The ground no longer rose. In front of me, I saw nothing but a flat plain. I'll never feel as exhilarated, as proud and accomplished as I did in that moment. Turning around was the best decision I've ever made. \n\nThe view was spectacular. Breathtaking. Awe-inspiring. In the distance, the sun peeked over the Martian horizon, a little shining disk painting the sky brilliant shades of red and blue. Kilometers of sand and rock stretched off into the distance, as far as the eye cold see. This was it. I smiled to myself. Higher than any hiker in the history of man, with a view that had never-before been seen with human eyes. \n\nNext to me, I heard the click of a shutter. Glancing down, I watched as the rover, my ever-faithful travel companion, angled its camera above the horizon for another picture. \n\n*Click*\n\nTurning around, I saw the rest of my journey laid out before me. The peak, if you could call it that, stretched on for kilometers, disappearing into the opposite horizon. I shouldered my pack. The rover was still taking pictures of the distant slope. I tapped it as I walked by, heading for the center of the peak. I had climbed the mountain, sure. But for Olympus Mons, that was only the first step. "
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You've been roaming the earth without limitations for what seems like an eternity and haven't aged a bit. You're tired of vandalism and putting people in suggestive positions. Bored one day, you walk into a library and find another person who can still move selecting a book from the shelves.
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[WP] On February 29, 2016, time stopped but only for you.
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"\"Game Over\" read my little phone screen, shit, I thought, I can never get this level right. I'm about to lock my phone and send it back to my pocket when something hits me, hard. There isn't a precise point of impact, almost as if a wall had run into me, or if I had run into... a frozen business man?\n\n\"Hey watch it, dude!\" As I look up, a car comes rushing towards me, I jump to the left and the car misses me by barely centimeters. I watch I horror as the car runs into a nearby building, the front completely smashed and the windshield shattered. I look around, searching for help or if someone called 911 yet. To my horror, about a dozen more cars have crashed further down the street but the red light. Worst off all, everything is now completely still, not a sound except for birds falling in mid air, everything looks so still, like in a camera. \n\n\"HELP!\" I scream out, not just for the car crashes, but for someone, anyone. For the first time in a while, I'm scared, horrified, alone.\n\n\nI wake up in my bed, hoping my alarm clock would work, of course it doesn't, I checked last night to see if clocks work, I was also hoping it had all been a dream, unfortunately, everything is still completely still, the same as yesterday. After everything, I had just ran home, and quickly went to sleep, hoping to wake up in a movementful world. No such chance. I feed on cereals and some bread, watching the still screen of my TV, hoping, praying it will wake up, and start chatting, maybe about the freezing, or global warming, I don't care, just talk to me, dammit!PLEASE TALK TO ME!"
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[WP] This is the story of how a simple shoeshiner defeated one of the most notorious assassins in the world.
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"I take pride in my job. I mean, some people may see me as a guy with just a menial job, like a cleaner or a garbage man, but my job takes persistence, it takes courage. To bend down at a man's feet and pull out my toolbox and shine the hell outta that shoe, it feels good.\n\nI'm not doing this for the money, which would be odd, because the pay is absolute crap. No, I'm doing for the thrill, for the look on the customer's face after he sees what a good job I have done, and that his shoe is so shiny he can practically see his face in it. I love my job. \n\nI thought it was going to be an ordinary day at work yesterday, but boy, was I wrong.\n\n'Start shinin' boy.' grunted the man, who was a towering six feet tall, with a scraggly beard, tanned skin and an insanely muscular build. He wore sunglasses and a cap, which was weird, because today was pretty cold, and the sun was nowhere to be found. It was like...he was hiding something...hiding himself from something, or someone.\n\nI smiled and started what I do best. I decided to grab some wax, to really make that shoe shine, so I went to my work closet and got out the bottle of wax. It seemed it wasn't closed properly, so on the way back to the man, some poured in the hallway. Cursing under my breath, I knew I couldn't clean it now. Customers always come first. So I finished, and the man handed me a couple of squeezed bills, even giving me a tip.\n\n'Thanks man! Have a nice day!' I said with a huge grin on my face, as it was my policy to always have a smile, for they are known to be quite contagious. I looked at where the man sat, and sat a small revolver, and realized it must have fell out of his back pocket. It wasn't my business to prod with what my customers did with their lives, that was their business. \n\nSo I ran so I could catch up with the man, completely forgetting that I had spilled wax on the floor, and seeing that I was going full speed, I fell and crashed to the ground, hearing a loud BANG as I did so.\n\nMy heart almost stopped. I looked at the tiny revolver in my hand, and saw smoke spitting out of the mouth. I gasped and got out and looked at the walls for any bullet hole, until I heard a loud thud outside my doorstep.\n\nTrying not to imagine the worse, I looked outside, and saw the man whose shoe I just shined, with a tiny bullet hole in the back of his head. I must have accidentally shot him in the head when I fell. I tried to fight back tears as I called 911 and told the operator my dilemma. \n\nHours later of investigations and interviews, it was found out that the man was really, Sam Poogle, one of the most notorious assassins in the world, famous for doing a quick, clean job, and I had just killed him.\n\nThe Police Commissioner said I was lucky this man was a wanted criminal, wanted dead or alive, or else I'd be charged with manslaughter. \n\nUp to this point, I still can't believe I killed a man, I'm not the same person I used to be, I don't shine shoes with the same ecstatic attitude I did before. No, now I feel guilt, and remorse for the poor soul I killed. I don't care that he killed hundreds of people, I had no right in taking his life, and I don't know if I will ever forgive myself. So I had to find myself a way to keep busy, keep my mind off the image of the Sam with a bullet hole in the back of his head, so you know what I did?\n\nShine shoes.",
"\"We've been tracking his every move for 7 years. How the hell did you kill him?\" The heavy door clicked shut behind the investigator. \n\n\"Sir, I swear, I didn't mean to! I just shined his shoes, he left me a generous tip, and he stepped into my wax. I really should be more careful about that. Next thing I know, the back of his head is part of my stirrup. He got blood all over my good cloth! I'm not going to jail am I? I'm distraught sir. This has been a rough day.\"\n\n\"So you really have no idea who this guy is?\"\n\n\"\"No, I don't, just like I've told the last five guys who asked me the same thing. Please. I just want to go home!\" \n\n\"I'll have someone come in to complete the paperwork and you'll be free to go sir.\"\n\n\"Thank you detective.\"\n\n----\n\nSome time later\n\n---\n\n*PHONE RINGS*\n\n\"Yup, they totally bought it. Do you have my passport ready? I was thinking Puerto Rico, but haven't made my mind up yet. Yeah, sure, I can be there in twenty. Thanks.\"\n\nThe shoe shiner smiled as he walked to his corolla. \"If I knew money was this easy to make I'd have switched professions long ago.\""
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[WP]There is a very tiny elephant in every room that always becomes upset when people say they are going to address it, but never do.
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"I usually hide in the worn, 30 year old clarinet case in the closet. The velveteen fabric is coming off at the ends and it makes for a nice blanket. The case also makes for nice noise insulation when I need it, but band class was rowdy today and I must not have closed the case all the way. Sometimes the latches get stuck.\n\nAs soon as the kids started to pour into the room it was getting loud. Some kid won an award, or so I thought. After a few more minutes of kids walking in I could hear the director clap his hands together to silence the room.\n\nUsually at about this point I get up and go into my stash for breakfast. Sometimes a student is munching on something in the back of the room, one of those percussion kids, and they drop some peanuts or something.\n\nI fumbled around in my pack, grabbing different things with my trunk to see where the food was and thankfully had some leftover peanuts from Friday.\n\n“Alrighty, how was everybody’s weekend?” the director asked. “Anything interesting happen?”\n\nHe waited for a moment and some kids were chanting someone’s name, but the director seemed to ignore them.\n\n“Charlie, I hear your brother won the game for us Saturday.” he said.\n\n“Uh yeah. He did. Winning shot and all, big game of course. Looks like we’re going back to the playoffs.”\n\n“Nice, nice.” said the director. “Anyone else?”\n\nThe kids started chanting someone’s name again.\n\n“Ashley? Anything interesting happen?”\n\n“Haha” she laughed, “No, not at all. I think Ann might have something though.”\n\n“Alright, alright, alright,” the director droned. “Time to address the elephant in the room.”\n\n“Oh my god,” I thought to myself. I put down my peanut and galloped to the door as fast as I could. I tried to squish my way under it and popped out the other side before he said another word.\n\n“Well Ann.” he said with a grimace. “Tell us about your weekend.”\n\nImmediately I felt it. My heart dropped.\n\nThey still didn’t know I existed. I don’t know why I thought anything would be different today. I mean, the director was basically talking right to me, what was I thinking getting all excited.\n\nWeren’t they interested in the fact that I had learned to play the triangle and was quite proficient? Did they not care that I could actually play a steady note on the piccolo. Get me a few more of my buddies and we could play whatever note we wanted. Heck, I had actually written a few compositions of my own. But nope, it is about Ann today.\n\n“Haha thanks Mr. Bryce.” she said. “Well, as you all know, I entered the composition competition two months ago. And over the weekend, I got the letter saying they are going to use my composition.”\n\nThe class finally erupted and started hollering and hooting and making every noise imaginable.\n\n“Alright alright alright.” the professor said after a minute, waving his hand. “So what are they going to use it for?” he asked. “In case anyone doesn’t know.”\n\n“Well, they are using as the opening music the next Elephantman movie.”\n\n“Elephantman movie?” I thought to myself. What kind of garbage joke is this. I wrote the song for Elephantman. I was going to enter that competition. I would have, of course, if I could mail it. But that was a hurdle I couldn’t overcome so I put it away in my file.\n\n“My file”\n\nWith gusto I crammed myself back under the door, and if I could fly I would have. I had to get to my file.\n\nI popped open the latch and started sifting through the papers\n\n“Bertrand’s song, nope. Symphony 4 (unfinished), nope. Where is it”\n\nI flew through the papers as fast as I could until I saw it. It was a note. A note I hadn’t put there. I saw an upside down name at the top.\n\n“,Ann” it read.\n\nI ripped the paper out and started reading.\n\n*“Dear mystery composer, I found this folder in the closet and sifted through it and the “Elephantman Opening” caught my eye. I hope you don’t mind, but I took it and worked on it some more so I could submit something for the composition competition. I’ll put it back once I copy it. My name is Ann and I have 1st period band if you want to find me.*\n\n*,Ann”*\n\n“This bitch” I said.\n\n“You’ll wish you addressed me.”\n\nTBC...potentially.",
"\"Don't hold your breath on it.\"\n\nThose were the last words spoken to me by my uncle Lu before he passed on. \n\nOptimism is a rare trait in our kind, and if I'm completely honest, I'm pretty sure mine annoyed the hell out of my family. They never realized, though, that my optimism was warranted. How else would I have stayed alive this long?\n\nMuch like the monsters under the bed, us Ellys feed off of the attention we receive from humans. The issue is, monsters have a much more effective method when it comes to being acknowledged. Us on the other hand? We just sit. And wait. And hope maybe someone might even THINK of bringing us up. That was never good enough for me, though.\n\nHumans are, no matter what YouTube commenters and celebrity bloggers might have you believe, very emotionally complex people. I understood from early on that if I wanted to make it in this world, I needed to appeal to those emotions. Knowing this I meticulously studied human emotions and their triggers. For instance, a certain Sarah Mclaughlin song never fails to make an American human react with either sadness or annoyance. The knowledge I gained from this study would allow me to call attention to myself, instead of just sitting and waiting.\n\nThe first time was easy. A teenaged human boy, trying almost instinctively to impress a girl about his age. Just looking at him, physical prowess was not an option. Humor. He would have to rely on humor.\n\nJust as I came to this realization, the boys teacher began to assign pairs for some sort of exercise. Something about common idiomatic expressions in the English language. Regardless of the subject matter, this would be my best chance to test my knowledge.\n\nI quickly learned both of their names. The male was called Jonathan, the female Rebecca. They were assigned to a group with two others, both males as well. \n\nI began to take note of the differences between the boys, both appearance and personality wise. The group's conversation quickly devolved, as I've noticed conversations between members of this age group do, to talking about their attractions to other teenagers they knew. This is when the smallest boy of the group went silent.\n\nThis boy was what would be considered average by almost all accounts. All but one, his horrid smell. Young humans tend to smell terrible but this one stank with some real gusto. \n\nThe group continued until finally, the small, smelly boy spoke up. \"Why do all of you have people crushing on you, but no one is interested in me?\"\n\nThe group fell silent. This was my chance. There wasn't much I could do to change the surrounding environment, but I could move small objects, and make noises just barely loud enough to register. I was beginning to lose hope when I saw it. A stick of deodorant teetering on the edge of a desk. I bumped it and the stick came crashing to the floor. Jonathan took notice and made a connection between the deodorant, the other boys smell, and said boys mating issues.\n\nI will never understand why humans embarrass each other in order to seem impressive, or funny, but that doesn't mean I can't use it to my advantage. \"I'm not going to be the one to address the SMELLephant in the room, but maybe you might want to try using that sometime.\" Gesturing to the fallen deodorant, Jonathan seemed contented in his wordplay.\n\nI however, was less amused. \n\nThis wasn't good enough. There had to be a way to get more direct attention. I continued researching, experimenting, and trying my hardest not to lose all hope. Turns out the original plan just needed some working through. Humans will go through a lot to make a joke, no matter how it might hurt others.\n\nI'm not proud of what I do. I know it hurts people, and that was never the intent. But things change. Sometimes need outweighs morality. Have I been the instigator in less than pleasant situations? Sure. I won't say I haven't caused any pain or sorrow, but hey, we've all got a few skeletons in our closet, don't we?"
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[WP] You are the tooth fairy. Right as you are reaching underneath the child's pillow, a parent walks in holding $5.
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"Everything is dark and burning. I'm completely engulfed in dense, molten sludge. Weightless and blind, drifting eternally in magma, I wait for my prompting. I feel the spark deep in my chest, and tinder turns to flame, and I know it is time. I focus the darkness around me into a force. My body vibrates, and then I am gone. \n\nI open my eyes. I'm in a child's bedroom. The poster-covered walls look blue in the darkness. Shafts of pale moonlight penetrate through the cheap plastic blinds and illuminate the wreckage of a Lego ghost town on the floor. I sidestep a multicolored structure and approach the bed, and there he is. Alfred Paxton Wood, 9 years old, 79 pounds. Wrapped up in Spiderman sheets, dreaming about riding a bronze tiger made of pennies. I hold out my hand and concentrate the darkness in the room. Alfred begins to vibrate and slowly levitates above his bed with his pillow and bedspread intact. Beneath Alfred's vintage Carnage pillow is a slightly yellowed 0.8 cm lateral incisor, the object of tonight's visit. I reach out for the tooth, and Alfred's door creaks open. \n\nStanding in the doorway is Clark Paxton Wood, 41 years old, 210 pounds. His eyes are wide open and looking right at me. I can taste the salty sweat on his forehead. Immediately I summon all the darkness in the room, and my body pulses with black energy. \n\n\"Wha-\" Clark starts, but already I am across the bedroom with my massive fingers wrapping around Clark's face. He whimpers, I squeeze, he cracks. I am very gentle. I must not damage the specimens. I lay him on the ground and open his jaw. I feel my hearts flutter as I count his pearl-white teeth. My false-head swings back, opening my gaping mouth at the neck of my body. One-by-one I pull Clark's teeth out and push them into my own mouth, twisting the roots into my gums. They are now just a few dozen amongst rows of hundreds. Some are capped with silver, others have little cavities. The new 29 additions are definitely amongst the largest.\n\nSomething changes in the room. I hear Alfred's breathing change its pace, and I now he is awake now. I turn around and see him gaping at me, his mouth covered with his Spiderman blanket. \n\n\"Go back to sleep,\" I say. \n\n",
" After a long night of collecting teeth, the tooth fairy arrives at the final house before a well-deserved rest. As she opens the window and flutters in weightlessly just like countless times before. She gave the family dog a quick pat on the head and went to the child's room to grab the tooth. The door lets out a loud creak as it swings slowly open, prompting the tooth fairy to look around and listen carefully. After a few seconds she decides no one is awake and lifts up the pillow gently and reaches for the tooth. \n\n \"I'll just grab this and be on my way, another job well do--\"\n\n Before the tooth fairy could finish, the child's father walks in, a five dollar bill in his hand and interrupts in a startled whisper. \n\n \"Who are you and why are you doing in my son's room?!\"\n\n The tooth fairy turns around and stares in disbelief for a moment. In the hundreds of years she's been collecting teeth, never once has a parent caught her in the act. \n\n \"You'd better start explaining yourself pretty fast. Who breaks into a house dressed like that? What's with the wings? Are you supposed to be the tooth fairy or something? The father asked half jokingly. \n\n \"Why, actually I am the tooth fairy sir.\" The tooth fairy said with a smile. \"Judging by the five dollar bill in your hand, I'd say you didn't think I existed, did you?\"\n\n \"Yeah, right\" said the father, \"If you're really the tooth fairy, prove it or I'm calling the cops.\" He pulls his phone out of his pocket and dials 911, and awaits the tooth fairy's next move while his finger rests on the call button. \n\n \"Now there's no reason to call the police sir, I assure you that I am indeed the tooth fairy. These wings and wand aren't just for show you know.\" She gives him a wink and begins to flutter her wings and lift her feet off the ground. As the father looks on in disbelief, she gently takes the boy's tooth from under his pillow and waves the wand, replacing the tooth with a five dollar bill of her own, then slips it under the pillow and smiles sweetly at the father. \n\n \"Now is that enough proof for you, dear?\"\n\n \"I- how- what are you?\" The father asked, phone now at his side\n\n \"Why I told you, I'm the tooth fairy. Now if you'll excuse me, I really must be going. The sun is rising soon and I'm dreadfully tired. You can keep your money, I assure you I'll be here as he loses his teeth. Go back to bed now dear, and give the dog a treat won't you?\"\n\nShe touches his shoulder gently and walks out of the room and out the window she came in through. The father stood and stared for a few moments, trying to comprehend what he had just witnessed before finally shaking his head and going back to bed. The tooth fairy returned home and set down her crown on her nightstand and laid down her head to await tomorrow's journey. \n",
"Sometimes it gets messy. It can be a messy job, but someone has to do it. I’m the guy who makes the mess, not the one who cleans it up. \n\nIt’s the same old story. I hit up houses every night. It’s my job. Do I love it? No. Do I have to do it? Yes. Why? They have my wife. It’s been too long. I have to see her again, touch her again. I have to know she’s okay. Until then, I keep doing my thing and they keep doing their thing. And yet, sometimes my thing gets messy.\n\n----------\n\nThere’s who I can only assume is this brat’s mom standing in the doorway. She doesn’t see me, but I see her. She’s beautiful. Everything about this human’s essence has got me head over heels in love. Suddenly, I’m forgetting about my wife. I’m forgetting about this deal I made. I’m forgetting about whatever I’ve been doing for however long I’ve been doing it. All this time, and this woman makes me stop.\n\nI look at this beauty and then at her sleeping kid. That kid has a dad. This kid has a family. How could I ever break that up? What are you thinking, Tooth Fairy? C’mon, get it together, man. I glide up to the kid’s pillow and replace the tooth with some cash. The mother’s still standing there in that doorway. Can she see me? She’s staring at her kid, not me. They never stare at me.\n\t\nI approach the woman a little closer. She’s so beautiful. I can’t help myself, I just keep staring. Her long hair, her deep eyes, her sweet nose, her tender lips. I’m entranced, what can I say? I haven’t felt this way in a long time. \n\t\nMaybe it’s time to give this up. Let some other poor schmuck do the job for me. I need to settle down, I can’t keep chasing after my wife. She’s gone, or at least it’s been so long, she might as well be gone.\n\t\nAnd yet, I stare at this woman, and there’s something about her. She’s my wife. She’s not my wife, but I see my wife. I feel my wife. I can sense her. It’s all coming back to me. I’m weeping. I’ve been a Tooth Fairy for as long as I can remember and here I am weeping. \n\nI’m gonna get you back, sweetheart. I haven’t felt hope in so long, but dammit, I’m gonna get you back.\n"
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[WP] A serial killer who gets a rush from picking up women and killing them becomes romantically interested in his latest victim-to-be.
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"\"Why are you doing this?\", Kate asked. \n\"We both know the answer to that.\", I replied. \n\"Are you going to hurt me?\" \n\nGood question. Am I? That was the plan. It was a good plan. Kate and I went to the same cafe almost three times a week. Or to put it accurately, *I* went to the same cafe as she did, three times a week, in last one month. Glances, smiles...soon names were exchanged. Then numbers. It ain't hard. Cafes are good places. To be, to see, to meet someone new, to hunt...\n\n\n\"Please, God! Please don't do this. Please, let me go. I promise, I won't tell anyone. I won't even tell my boyfriend. I'll make an excuse if he asks where I was. I swear. Please. You can trust me.\" \n\nThis is part of the reason why I enjoy hunting. They all think am the monster. They *know* I am. And yet, something in me or something in them deludes them. They all promise, they all seek trust. Why? What sane mind does that? You don't bargain with a disaster, do you? Then why do they bargain with me? Can I stop? I am not so sure. Will they get what they seek? Of course not. The whole fucking point of this is that I love taking it all away. The choices. The freedoms. I mean, it's not like if I get caught, they'd not do the same. Might as well make the first move, no? Like they say, the first to punch is the one who wins the fight. \n\n\"Look, please, I am just a student. I work six nights a week plus college. I'm trying to do something. Make a difference. Please, let me go. Please, god, please...\"\n\n\nShe was tied up. I could see the bruises on her wrists from her struggling against the rope. I always use the rough jute ones.They're sturdy and the knot doesn't slip. Not to mention, leaves a nice red bruise every time someone wriggles too much. Like she does. \n\nShe has nice wrists. Beautiful actually. I noticed it when I was tying her hands. The inside of her wrists, so delicate, intimate. Had that whiff of the perfume she was wearing. It was the first time I enjoyed taking my time, tying someone up. All these months, I've gotten very efficient, very quick at the job. Usually takes about a few minutes. I'd gotten into a sort of bet with myself, to keep it under 60 seconds. Doing fine so far, until I brought her back. Now she, she is something. I took my time with her. I didn't need to worry as such. She was knocked out cold. Nothing that'll cause her a concussion. Just some good old anesthetic. \n\n\nIt's the wrists. So intimate. More than looking into her eyes. She's got lovely eyes. But the wrists, I love it. I almost kissed the veins on the inside of her wrists. I wonder if she has a lover. Someone who kisses her wrists. It's been about half hour since she came to. Half hour of crying, sobbing, pleading. In that order. Over and over and over. She gets tired of pleading. Of trying to think of ways to bargain. I get tired of hearing. Every time she quiets down, I smile a little. Probably scares the fuck out of her. But I don't mean it that way. More like, I'm glad she is quiet. If only she also calms down a little. \n\n\nAnother hour goes by. She's being brave now. Angry. Trying to hurt me, saying things she thinks hurts someone like me. I laughed at the almost teen-ish taunt about my cock and it's size. It's 2016. Do people really think genitals is the weak spot of all ego? Read three good books by some good writers and you'll realize. Everyone wants to get fucked. Everyone likes being fucked. And no one complains about sizes or lengths. Cause we all take what we can get. Bad sex is better than no sex, you know. I laugh. She glares. She looks stunning when she's angry. Sucks her cheeks in. Her cheekbones look sharper. She tilts her head to the side, letting me notice her jawline. It's the kind of skin you'd not stop kissing if she was the one you woke up to. \n\n\n\"You will burn in hell. You hear me? You will burn in hell.\"\n\n\nThird hour. She's gone cold. Her eyes are hard, her lips clipped tight. Indifference. The dignity of it. This is what I was waiting for. The ones who came before her, they never reach this. That's why I just finish the hunt, dispose of the gear and the meat. But she reached it. The place where I live now. The sheer cold logical apathy. Only, I am not so sure if I want to stay here. No. Something's changed. \n\nI look at her. The bruises have settled into a beautiful blue-pink haze spreading on her wrists. She noticed my gaze. Ah, a flicker of confusion. Not fear. She knew my gaze by now. It's not the gaze of the man who hit her neck with the syringe. She knew this gaze. It's the gaze of the man she gave her number to. The man who sat by the window and read his books. Who looked at his books the same way he was looking at her. \n\n\"I'm...sorry. Can we...start over?\" God, what if she says no!?"
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This has been posted before but it is a favourite of mine and as far as I know the last post like this was archived.
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[WP] A Vampire in a Zombie Apocalypse
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"Time was a construct of human society. As soon as man's world fell, the concept of date and year was abandoned and replaced with the safety of the sun and the fear of the night. Animal instincts of survival can be easily triggered when familiarity is ripped away from you.\n\nSince humans doomed themselves with the unholy plague, many suns have risen and the moon has repeated it's cycles as if unaffected by the affairs of the world below. Zombies have infected the planet, leaving only small pockets of humanity scattered across the land. These settlements are the last attachment to a past society that humans desperately longed for.\n\n\"Me? Oh, I'm just a vampire wondering around in a zombies world.\" I say to the emotionless undead man on the other side of the bar as I take a swig from a dusty bottle of bourbon. \"But I'm sure you are already aware of this.\"\n\n\"Uuuuggggh.\" Gurgled the undead man as he slowly shuffled away.\n\n*sigh*\n\nThese zombies are useless to my kind. If they arent completely dried up, their blood has the consistency of pudding and is inedible. They also don't make for great conversation, usually just ignoring me since I myself am technically dead.\n\nI take off my backpack, putting it on the bar counter to take inventory of what I have. \n\nA flashlight, a pistol with 3 clips, a hammer, a couple pairs of shoes and spare clothes, 10 granola bars, 18 blood packs, and a couple personal items.\n\nI sling the backpack over my shoulders and raise from my seat.\n\n\"Well thanks for the company ladies and gentlemen, but it's time I leave.\" I say as I walk towards the door, trying to weave myself through the crowd of undead without sending them into an uproar. Just because they usually avoid my kind doesn't mean they can't be triggered into attacking.\n\nI accidently bump shoulders with one and she immediately lunges for me, setting off all the others.\n\nWith a glint in my eye I cause the room to go dark.\n\n*whack whack splat thud*\n\nAnd just like that the light floods back through the windows, showing bodies now strewn across the wooden floor. I shrug and step over the bodies to the door. I put up my jackets hood and covers my face with a blue handkerchief and sunglasses and steps into the sunlight. \n\nI'm in a small, deserted town somewhere east of Jacksonville. Everyone here is either a walker or had the sense to pack up and head for the shanties that popped up around Tallahassee. \n\nI'm heading north to hit up a couple known still functioning production plants turned trade posts on my way to Vamptown, which the only remaining sanctuary for my kind on the east coast.\n\nThe way there is full of rough terrain, and even rougher people. They may be even crazier than I am. I'm not a cannibal, and to be honest the vlood packs i have with me are cows blood, but they are common in the backwoods.\n\nBut nothing will stop me, for I'm the last hope for vampires and humans alike.",
"Shelly pushed her little sister ahead of her as the zombies followed close behind her. They had seen this house from another house they had been hiding in. It had the word “SAFE” spray painted across the front, and from what Shelly could tell, at least one side. She figured it was probably written on every side. From what had been a relatively safe location she had wondered how someone had gotten up so high to write across the whole front of the two story building, but now she was only concerned with reaching the door. \n\nThey had waited until dusk when hopefully they would be harder to spot before making their break for the “SAFE” house. The house they had been in hadn’t been so bad at first, until they realized that there were several zombies in the master bedroom. The zombies hadn’t figured out how to open the door, but their constant ramming into the door had been more than Shelly and little Kristy could take.\n\nAs they came through the gate to the front yard Shelly tried to close it but she was surprised by how close one of the zombies was and its momentum caused it to barrel into the gate. As the gate flung open it hit Shelly hard and knocked her to the ground and before she could get up the zombie was on top of her. She couldn’t believe that just 48 hours ago she had been concerned about what to wear to her prom, and now she was about to be eaten alive by a zombie. She tried putting her hands on the zombies throat and realized that left arm wasn’t responding right, apparently it had been broken by the gate. She got her good arm up and was holding the zombie back for now, but looking past it she saw more coming through the gate now. She could see her little sister kicking the zombie, that once had been a full grown man, but it was to no avail. There wasn’t much a 5th grader could do to help. \n\nShelly’s eyes went past the zombies to the horizon and saw the sun slip below the horizon and she thought ‘what a cliché metaphor’, but prepared for the inevitable end as the other two zombies reached her.\n\nSuddenly something smacked down on the ground next to her with such a solid thud it startled her even in the middle of holding a zombie from biting her. The zombie was suddenly off of her and she saw it fly backwards in the sky, still clutching at her face as it disappeared out of her line of sight. With the first zombie now gone, she could clearly see the other two zombies coming for her. Without warning the head of the first one came off and fell to the ground. It happened so fast she didn’t see what had caused it but it didn’t faze the third zombie who now had an unobstructed view of both girls and moaned louder as it took a lunging step towards them. As if by magic, a man seemed to appear in-between the girls and the zombie. While this new person blocked a lot of Shelly’s view, she could still make out that the final zombie went flying straight back out of the gate. His feet didn’t touch the ground until he slammed into an SUV across the street. The only word that Kelly’s brain could come up with to describe what happened to the zombie when it hit the SUV was that it shattered. It’s head and one of its arms seemed to keep going and the zombie separated at the waist into two large pieces that collapsed to the ground.\n\n“Awesome!” Kristy shouted, jumping up and down with glee. \n\nThe man turned around and reached down to help Shelly up. As she took his hand she couldn’t help but notice that it was very cold and pale. Looking at his face as she got to her feet she saw that his entire complexion was pale and waxy. \n\n“Come” The man said. “There will be more soon.” As he spoke Shelly noticed that he had fangs. \n\n“Yes, I’m a vampire, but if you want to live we must get you inside.”\n“What” Kristy said with big eyes.\n\n“Move.” Both girls immediately began to move, Shelly realized she really didn’t want to but seemed unable to stop her body. \n\n“It is safe here. You will join the others. “ He looked at Kristy. “No, I won’t eat you little girl. But I do ask a small price from the grown ups.”\n\n“He opened the door to the house and there was a small group of people standing there holding various weapons but none of them seemed ready to use them.\n\n“She has a broken arm.” The vampire said, addressing a large black woman.\n\n“No problem honey, we’ll take care of it. You be careful out there.” \n\nHe nodded, turned around with a flourish of his overcoat and looked like he was jumping but moved so fast Shelly wasn’t sure what happened other than he was gone. \n\nAs the large black woman put her arm around Shelly and gently began to lead her up the stairs Shelly notice that the lady had two puncture wounds on her neck. Glancing around she noticed a few more people had them but not all. \n \n“Y’all going to be all right now. Don’t you worry. My name is Carla.” \n\nCarla saw Shelly looking at her neck. “This your little sister? Don’t y’all worry, it don’t hurt none, and he takes turns every time.\" She smiled and shook her head. \"You see, he can’t let us die, or then he’ll starve to death, so you have never been safer in your whole life then you are right now.” \n"
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[WP] Alone in voluntary quarantine, you harbour a virus that could spread to the entire planet in days. 99% of all people infected will die within one week, while the rest will live for thousands of years. You, unfortunately, are in the 99%.
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"I awoke that morning to unusually bright sunshine. The morning dew had already been lifted from the glass roof on my cabin by what looked to be the most beautiful day of the year. The few wispy clouds on the horizon seemed to be retreating from the sun as it approached its zenith. The usual coat of mist on the western clear-panel wall had already burned away, and the surrounding vegetation seemed to glow in the midday effulgence. Despite it being a beautiful, vibrant day-- perhaps the best in recent memory-- I found myself strangely mindful at the complete lack of any real vitality. An entire forest sprawling around me, even complete with its own waterfall, and yet I felt completely alone. It was an ecosystem built for one. And while this might have been a comfort in the days preceding it, today felt different. Sure, it was the most beautiful day of the year. But it was also going to be my last.\n\n\n----------\n\n\n\"I'm... sorry...... could you say that again?\"\n\nI could feel the blood leave my face. My mouth draped open, and my bottom lip curled as I held in a gasp. I grasped the armrests of my chair so tightly that my nails began to puncture the vinyl. The doctor, writhing under the weight of what he was about to say, scooted to the edge of his chair and rested his elbows on his desk, nervously tapping his fingertips together.\n\n\"Mr. Korver, we've positively identified a fatal strain of the G86S virus in your blood. Like I said, howev--\"\n\n*\"Wait wait wait... wait a minute,\"* I broke, \"this doesn't make any fucking sense. The 'supervirus' **isn't** fatal. It can't be, right? It's supposed to make us immortal. That's what it was fucking *designed* for, right? Am I wrong?\" I licked my lips unconsciously. My mouth had gone suddenly dry.\n\n\"Well, Mr. Korver...\" he began, clearing his throat and taking in a sharp breath, \"that.... that is-- er, should-- always be the case.\" His gaze softened as he saw me force myself to swallow. He looked nearly as nervous as I felt. And for good reason. \"Ninety-nine percent of the time, that is the case. Pretty much, actually, ninety-nine point nine nine nine nine nine nine nine percent of the time, the recipient of the G86S virus gains the ability to continue cellular repair indefinitely, despite age.\" \n\nHe pulled his chair closer to the desk and folded his hands in front of him. He again took in a sharp breath and his tone dropped to a calming low. \"But the virus has just a single, very small, uh... catch, I guess you could say. A genetic catch.\" I pursed my lips to talk, but nothing came out. I was stuck halfway between disbelief and despondency. The only thing I could do was wince my eyes and ever so slightly shake my head.\n\n\"Mr. Korver. Um, Nicholas-- Nick. There's about a point zero zero zero zero.. zero zero *zero* one four zero three five percent chance that the virus will be lethal. And it's entirely dependent on genetics. Now, I suppose the government or the CDC should have made this public, but... it didn't seem right to concern people needlessly when..... well...\"\n\nThis time, his breath was deep and drawn, and he pulled his glasses from his face and looked at me with a sort of tenderness that was almost unsettling. But behind his nervous eyes, there was a latent compassion. I began to tear up.\n\n\"Nick, this virus was engineered to only ever be incompatible with a single person with a *very* specific genetic code that was ultimately chosen at random. Someone, eventually, was going to be born with the **only** genetic code that could **ever** be fatally receptive to the virus. And it is my extremely solemn... and mournful burden to tell you that *you...* are that one person in history, Nick.\"\n\nHis eyes fluttered and he very nearly gasped for breath. He seemed relieved, despite his best efforts to remain reserved. My eyes had fallen from his and were now focusing blankly on the center of his desk. The tears welling in my eyes had receded, and a profound hopelessness began to swell inside me. My will had been instantly sapped, and I felt a hollow in the middle of my chest. I was no longer sad, or apprehensive, or even angry. My emotions evaporated, and the only thing that remained was the cold, detached reasoning of a terminal mind.\n\n\"How long do I have?\"\n\n\n----------\n\n\nI sat on my couch, out on the lawn at the edge of the street, clutching my backpack to my chest. To my left, piled in the grass, was a heap of my luggage. Every object that I loved and cherished had been packed carefully into as many bags as I could carry. Photos, CDs, games, cookware, and touristy doodads acquired over a decade of post-college travel, all tossed together overnight. I had dutifully chosen and organized each item into its respective bag, moving meticulously from room to room, only pausing to cry when I realized I only had to pack eight pairs of socks.\n\nAs I stared blankly into the asphalt directly in front of me, I heard the rapid shuffling of footsteps through the grass. I turned over my right shoulder to see a little girl, no more than ten, in bright yellow overalls and a SpongeBob shirt. Her pigtails bobbed with each hurried step. In her hands, she clutched an envelope, and as she made her way in front of me, she smiled nervously.\n\n\"Hi, uh, mister.\" She wobbled restlessly from foot to foot, and looked back at her mother, who was part of a growing crowd encircling my house. News of my historic fate had spread globally in the hours after my diagnosis, and had even culminated in a minute-long conversation with the President, in which my personal comfort was insured by, and on behalf of, the governments of the world.\n\n\"This is, uh, from every-- the whole neighborhood,\" she mumbled softly, outstretching the envelope. I grasped the edge of it and smiled in return. Her eyes were the brightest shade of green I had ever seen, and the distinct absence of sorrow was deeply comforting. But before I could rouse myself enough to thank her, she scampered back to her mother, giggling. \n\nI exhaled a reticent laugh and flipped open the unmarked envelope. Whatever was inside had a surprising weight to it. As I tore open the seal, I could see handwritten marker and children's stickers on the top fold of what felt to be poster paper. Pulling it free, I read the cover aloud: \n\n*\"We will never forget you Nick!\"* I swallowed through my smile, and without lifting my eyes from the paper, I nodded in recognition. The handwriting was obviously that of a child, but it was nonetheless apparent that an enormous amount of effort went into the precise formation of each individual letter. This sentiment alone was almost overwhelmingly endearing. But as I unfurled the poster and read its contents, my composure melted away and I began to weep.\n\n*\"Our family will be praying for your comfort and happiness. Love, the Neals Family.\"*\n\n*\"You were the kindest and most polite neighbor I've ever had, and I will always regret not getting to know you better. Please know that you will be missed. Alan Lidewski.\"*\n\n*\"We're all going to miss you, Nick! If you want to talk, or need anything, just let us know! We're here for you! Jillian and George Cheung.\"*\n\nI hadn't even gotten halfway through the fifth message when my eyes became too clouded to read. My fingers shook as I grasped the paper tightly, trying my hardest not to wail. All the emotion that I had suppressed the day before was finally spilling over, and as I lowered my head into the paper, I could hear exclamations of love and concern from the crowd. I only finally lifted my head when the quick flaring of a police siren jolted me to attention.\n\nI wiped the remaining tears from my eyes and stood up as four police escorts and a stretch limousine-- courtesy of the President himself-- rolled to a stop in front of my house. At the edge of my lawn, a growing array of news cameras and smartphones rose to meet me. Still unable to utter a word, I simply raised my trembling hand, sobbed through a smile, and offered a gracious nod to the crowd. Two policemen approached me from either side and led me to the door of the limo as a third began to load my luggage into the trunk. Inside, dozens of varieties of my favorite snacks and drinks lined cabin coolers. A small trove of gift-bowed electronics was laid out on the seat to my left, and stack of letters almost a foot high was bundled and leaned against the seat to my right. The whole situation felt oddly reminiscent of my twenty-first birthday, and for a moment I found myself genuinely smiling-- free of regret.\n\nAs the limo lurched into motion, I stared out the window at the passing crowds. Face after face of modest smiles and waving hands briefly aglow in flashes of blue and red. Each pair of eyes in a strobe of meted joy and subtle sadness, watching death itself disappear into the horizon. I may well have stared out the window for the entire two hour ride to the airport, but soon after it began to rain.\n\n----------",
"It is a common notion among the people of this world that hope is a beautiful thing. Perhaps one of the most beautiful and romantic human experiences to exist. When despair roams on the edges of your soul and threatens to devour all that remains of your shattered rationality, it is hope that gives you the will to face the darkening night.\n\nSuch people are damn fools. Hope is bullshit.\n\nWhen I learned I had this fucking disease I turned to hope. I waited and I prayed. I rested as much as possible and took every medicine that could safely help. I ate all my fucking vegetables and tried every fucking wives tale that was rumored to help.\n\nOnly now I am aware of what a fool I was. When I learned that my timer was set, I did my absolute best to waste those few precious grains of sand. \n\nThere were so many things I wanted to do. There were so many risks I wanted to take. I had one week; a whole week to do whatever I wanted. I finally see if I could make that jump I never tried. I could take some fucking crazy drug and laugh my way to death. Or maybe, just maybe, in these final desperate days I could find her and make things right. Just like I always wanted but never could.\n\nSo here I lay at the end of my wasted days cursing hope and cursing those that will live. But most of all I curse myself for being such a damn fool.\n\nI don't want to die."
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[WP] Once upon a time, a schmuck finds a characteristically overpowered, all-knowing dragon or something in the woods.
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"There is a pause, followed by some fumbling and then the all familiar crack of a beer can opening. \n\nBilly buries his head a Little further under the quilt, just hoping his father will get bored of this and let him sleep. Hes been coming home drunk more often and telling these stories to him, it frightens him and makes him more awake, nevertheless he pretends to sleep and in the act of doing so usually carries him off to slumberland. \n\nSo....\"sluurp\" so, this fucking Woods is down by the financial district, you know the one, the one where we had to go last month for Daddies work picnic?.. well, yeah that one. So, this shmuck decides to befriend this dragon, and the dragon says, if you complete this very small quest for me i will grant you all the knowledge of the magic kingdom and you will become a great King of all the land. so..... \"sluurp\" the schmuck says \"sure, that sounds like a good deal. Tell me about this great and noble fucking quest that you.. oh mightly \"sluuurp\" dragon can bestow apon me. \n\nSo, \"sniff\" the Dragon takes the schmuck to a magic cave and says take these magic scrolls and destroy them in the mighty fire that roars in the belly of the great Forrest, and if you can complete this nobel task ,rewards and treasures and glory shall be bestowed apon you a thousand fold. \n\n\"snifff, sluurp\" So the schmuck enters the dark and horrid cave and retrieves the magic scrolls, he manages to sneak past all the guards, and the hobgoblins and the trolls and even the fucking fairy \"sluurp\" and carries the docume...magic scrolls through the entire forest until he reaches the mighty fire that rages Deep in the depths of the magic forest. \n\"sluurp\" and the fucking schmuck never once stops to think to himself, hey mr mighty dragon, if your so mighty and a dragon and all that good shit why dont you breath your magic fire breath on the magic fucking scrolls, naw, the schmuck never thinks of asking that does he? hmmm ? hes too busy thinking about all the glory and honor that will be bestowed apon him by the Dragon. \nAnyway, the schmuck opens the secret portal to the mighty fire and laughs as the magic scrolls turn to cinders before his very eyes. \nAnd as our brave schmuck makes his way back through the magic forest he is stopped by two magic elves who ask if he has seen the magic scrolls and how those magic scrolls can save the magic forest from complete destruction and banish the Mighty Dragon to never never land...... \n\"Sniff... sluurp\" and so now the poor schmuck will have to go infront of the high council of elves while the mighty dragon tells them about how the poor useless and not so intelligent schmuck accidentily destroyed the only posible hope for the magic kingdom. \n\nThere is a small thud as the beer can hits the ground and his hush puppy shoes scrape on the carpet as he leaves the room, \n\n\"snifff, love you son\" \n\nI never really understand what is going on with Dad these days",
"The resonating sounds of *clip clops* throughout the forest, the knights stead drags a couch across the dirt road.\n\n\"Faster my stead, sir Butt Dimples will not be slowed by this meandering forest!\"\n\nButt Dimples continues to examine his gauntlets in the couch, turning them over every now and then. The peasants face is flushed red from carrying so much baggage, but manages to make clip clops with the coconuts tied around his ankles.\n\n\"I'm sure the king will be quite pleased at what we found in that cave we went to.\"\n\n\"You pissed your pants me'lord\"\n\n\"HOW WAS I TO KNOW THERE IS DARKNESS IN CAVES?\"\n\n\"Ye sure the King's gonna be happy for not finding the dragon?\"\n\n\"Eh, I'm the greatest knight of the...\"\n\nButt dimples starts counting off his shiny metal fingers.\n\n\"Five kingdoms!\"\n\nThe peasant rolls his eyes\n\n\"Surely he can see that Dragons simply don't live in caves!... They live on clouds...\"\n\n\"Clouds me'lord?\"\n\n\"Clouds! Yes, that's where they can fly is it not?\"\n\nA thumping sound resonates in the forest with the clip clops\n\n\"Wh- What was that earth shattering shaking? Yield steed, yield!\"\n\nThe clip clops come to a halt and falls over on a puddle of mud.\n\n\"I MEANT SLOWLY\"\n\n\"Do you see that me'lord?\"\n\nThere is a shadowy figure that snakes around, as big as a fine boulder.\n\n\"Merely the wind my stead. You don't even know how sneaky those boulders get.\"\n\nButt Dimples stands triumphantly, half covered in mud about how boulders roll down hills on him, and several rocks get thrown at him.\n\n\"You mean that time when you shat all over the confessors booth? You scared the father half to death.\"\n\n\"I've never been more acknowledged for my fame than then...\"\n\nSire Butt Dimples turn a few shades of pale; a shadowy figure appears out of the treeline, scales a fine red, eyes of fire, and intense flames murmurrs in its throat, standing a massive height of the crouched peasant.\n\n\"FEAR ME MORTAL!\"\n\nThe peasant bursts out in laughter, Butt Dimples starts to dawn his sword. Which he notices is missing from its scabbard.\n\n\"My-my sword!?\"\n\n\"Ye left it back in the cave.\" Half tearful\n\n\"YES MORTAL, YOU ARE DEFENSELESS AGAINST MY WRATH!\"\n\nThe all-mighty dragon leaps foward in the air and swipes at the knights helm, Butt Dimples then starts to fall to the floor crying.\n\n\"Owe, my precious helm... you hi-hit me...\"\n\nThe peasant starts wiping the majorly minor scratch on the helm and starts kissing the helm.\n\n\"HA HA! I HAVE BESTED YE SIR KNIGHT, IT IS I WHO IS TRULY THE STRONGEST OF THE...\"\n\n\"...Five\"\n\n\"KINGDOMS!\"\n\nThe dragon starts to pounce away chuckling menacingly, the knight thrusting his fist in the air.\n\n\"I'M GOING TO TELL MY FATHER ON YOU! HE'S THE KING, YOU KNOW THAT!\"\n\n______________________________________\n\nA continuation of a [story](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/40n9bs/z/cyvjgru) I made a while back."
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[WP] The year is 2049. Through a series of events you get flung back in time to the late 1400's in the America's. You become the leader of a tribe.
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"My insane information from high school social studies allows me too defeat many other tribes as well as my degree in engineering you build powerful makeshift weapons. You become leader of the tribes, you command them to attack the Africans, for their valuable resources. You invade and destroy them, controlling their people and land. You then continue to invade England and completely leave the city in rubble no one but some of your own survived, you have found the beloved fountain of youth and now lived to 1500s mangaging your empire, Andy you go to the America and take over, murdering Indians and you now rule the world under your iron first for hundred of up years before your beheaded by yourself since you can't live anymore alone."
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[WP] You finish the new civilization video game, only to discover it's a recruiting tool of multi-dimensional empire builders. They want to talk to you about your latest game.
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"The cavalry charged the flanks, the lightly armored horsemen smashing into the swordsmen. The sky shone with Scythian arrows, in swarms vast enough to block the sun and devour cities. They charged in the weakened rows of injured soldiers, shattering their ranks. Tomyris, empress of Scythia, conqueror of India, the Kongo, and Greece rode on. Waves of light cavalry charged into the foe's ranks, and when they were met were spears, a hellish rain of arrows were sent in return.\n\nScythia was truly an empire to stand to the test of time. It's borders spreads for miles, covering the contients. Great Kurgans were erected as empress Tomyris struck down her foes in showers of arrows and sabers soaked in blood. \n\nThe player leaned back, his tactics having taken a humble people to conquerors unparalleled. And then the world tore, the fabric of reality bending and flattening, and an... entity came out, it's angular body and smooth metallic surface glinting in the light of the computer. The sphere clicke,do hummed, and began to speak. \"iHola! Tu eres....\" the robot hummed more, clicked, and began again. \n\n\"Hello! You have been selected for the Mal'zeb Effort for Intergalactic Envoy Recruitment, MEIER for short. You are ethereal creme dela creme of your Earthen tacticains, and as such, have been chosen to lead colonists to another galaxy. A land beyond the furthest horizons. You will be transported now.\" The player was suddenly gone, leaving only a computer and the smell of high sugar energy drink.\n\nThe player lead as a conqueror, to conquer . The cosmos opened to him, their riches his, thEirik people's his citizens. He expanded, he lead, and he crushed his opposition with searing waves of plasma. xXxNo_StAlE_mEmEsxXx was a man, a legend, a hero. He stood the test of time.\n",
"\"and you're sure the enemy will fall for this?\" Moi asks looking at the screen. I had it set up for my tastes of course, everything in 3 dimensional hexes that I could swim through.\n\n\"yes, by assaulting sector 313-091-141 with a strong frontal force will pull resources from surrounding space immediately.\" I say highlighting the surrounding hexes. each one showed armada's nearly double the total size of my own heading to cut my forces off.\n\n\"but I fail to see why you arranged our forces over here like so.\" he says moving towards a second front.\n\n\"they're allied with the batar forces. by attacking over there I open us up to attack here. so the Gorelian federation will send in an assault nearly half again the size of my own attack force into the pincer attack I have waiting here.\" I say waving at sectors around 351-092-136. \"they move in and take a foothold abandoning their well defended systems in favor of attack, I move in and crush their attacking force with three times their number before heading deep into their territory and devastating their infrastructure.\"\n\nMoi nods his bulbous head accepting my plan. \"so your baiting them with nearly two million lives to ensure the capture of their strongest hand. we were good to choose you.\" he says half turning before adding. \"just remember that 35 uhh this system has a wormhole. don't let it fall otherwise you know what happens.\"\n\n\"I die and you abduct someone to replace me.\" I reply. waving away the wormhole. I had several automated ships there that would detonate themselves near enemy ships, they would ensure anything trying to get through would burn.\n\nhe nods before leaving, as he does I widen a small window and type in. \"move your fleet into position, i have the rebellion ready to assist. the loyalists are working on the suicide offensive.\"\n\nmy 'opponent' is quick to reply. *nice, I have the admiral of my fleet instructed where to go. I still find it stupid that these aliens are so bad at war they need us to do it for them. even more stupid that they abducted two top 10 players to fight each other. see you soon tacoblaster69*"
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[WP] The human race has come together to build the largest particle accelerator in our history. One that measures the circumference of earth. After the first experiment, proposed by a popular theoretical physicist, the search for sub-particle universes has begun.
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"We didn't know that the language was math. We didn't know the accelerator would lead to this.\n\nWe had laboured for years to construct this thing, attempting to find a straight line along the Earth. We didn't, so we built one. We punched through mountains, filled in valleys, carving out a tunnel through the world to lay out this metal tunnel, this technological yellow brick road.\n\nWhen the whole thing was connected, measurements requiring precision to the millimetre checked and double-checked, the world erupted in cheers. Finally we'd done it. The scientific community, nay, the world community had put aside their differences for long enough to carry out this amazing feat.\n\nThen, before the final test, He appeared. I didn't believe in him, I doubt many of us did. But Professor Ellis, the chairman of the project, reacted, either by quick wit, or paranoid preparation, with the perfect response.\n\n**\"Such arrogance... will be punished...\"** the thing screeched, a booming shout that seemed to tear into our very souls. **\"But first, your tower,\"** the thing laid one humongous hand on humanity's magnum opus, and with a tortured scream of metal and electricity, the thing began to snap. Ellis unleashed the power of the particle accelerator, a power that thing could not have expected. We bombarded God with a flurry of particles, the biggest railgun mankind could muster. He staggered back, unable to withstand the force, and collapsed to the ground.\n\nWe did our repairs. And Babel stood. We had become gods, of a thousand smaller universes, a million seeds of creation. And we swore to do better.\n\n---\n\nHey! I just offended religion! Dammit, I swore I wouldn't do that more. /r/poiyurt. Don't hate me, I thought it was a cool twist."
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[WP] Every human gains the ability to morph into their spirit animal at the age of 20. Depending on your spirit animal you get assigned a position in society. On your 20th birthday you are not morphed into your spirit animal and people get suspicious.
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"The Era of Enlightenment is the name some Owls have given the time I was born into. Each person into their Animal and each Animal into their place for the benefit of all. Poverty is all but an ancient myth. Sickness is a rarity quickly cured. The leading Cats say that a genetic mutation caused this change to human physiology, though some more heaven looking Dogs say it's a gift from God. You know Labradors though, always a bit fanciful. \n\nThere's something to that though. Biology is never as precise as this. Exactly on your 20th birthday you will transform, without your consent, into your Animal form. From then on you can choose when and if you'll ever transform again but the first time is compulsory. Manditory. Forced on you. It's terrifying really. All the stress of a second puberty condensed into a event where your inner nature literally takes over your body and reveals itself to the world. That's where the Shepherds come in. \n\nSuicide before the Change became a real problem for awhile when this all started over a hundred years ago. People tried everything, hosting parties to make it cheerful, making it a religious event with robes and music, a few places even mandated stays at government controlled housing so you could be watched 24/7 for weeks beforehand. Some of those worked better than others but the issue still grew. So one day a group of the most devoted and docile Dogs, Cats, Rodents, and Birds formed an independent group to watch over young people approaching the Change. \n\nMost of the Shepherds spend their time on difficult cases. People who don't want to know who they are inside. People suffering from depression or other mental illness. For a well adjusted young woman like me, I only get my Shepherd for one day. It's my birthday today and I'm 20 now. The Change is coming.\n\nI've been dressed and waiting by the door since 6 A.M. though I know they aren't supposed to be here till 8. I can't sleep. I haven't eaten since the day before yesterday. People say you need to keep your strength up though so I've been drinking smoothies and milkshakes like when I got my wisdom teeth out. \n\n:: KNOCK knock KNOCK ::\n\nShit! I jump a bit. I hope I didn't say that too loud. I look at my watch. 8 A.M. I swear it was 6 just a minute ago. Well they're prompt. A larger Rodent maybe? I've never met one but that would be neat. \"Coming!\" I half yell.\n\nI rush over to the door and open it. Standing in the hall is a beautiful tall woman in a plain white blouse and black pants. \n\n\"Hello, are you Ms. Megan Evans?\" She asks. \n\n\"I am. Are you my Shepherd?\" I ask back.\n\nThe lady takes a small wallet from her pocket and shows me her badge. It's an elaborate thing with shinny parts here and bumps over there. It looks just like the ones I was shown at the agency so I would know what to expect. The name on it reads \"Class 1 Shepherd: Amy Matthews\" but what catches me by surprise is one line down, \"Animal: Tigress\" My mouth must be hanging open a bit because the she smirks a bit and closes the badge holder. \n\n\"People always react when they get to that part but it's really nothing.\" She says, \"May I come in?\"\n\n\"Oh, of course.\" I say stepping out of the way. She glides into my apartment with all the grace of her Animal. Tigers are rare. They tend to become CEO's of major companies or heavy hitting politicians. Some go into professional sports. Just to be a big cat can make you famous. This is crazy, a real Tigress is in my apartment! My heart starts racing. \n\n\"No need to be nervous because of me.\" She says looking back at me. I'm still frozen holding the door open staring at her. \n\n\"Uh right.\" I stammer, \"Uh, would you like some tea?\" I ask closing the door. \n\n\"That would be lovely.\" \n\nI hurry into the kitchen and start the kettle that I made ready earlier and curse myself for planning ahead when all I want right now is something to do with my hands. A flash of Amy, Shepherd Amy I remind myself, in the doorway flashes through my mind and I have to physically shake my head to get rid of it. \n\nLet's not pretend though, I know about myself and my preferences. I've always had a thing for girls and when I asked for a female Shepherd it was for comfort. I just hadn't expected someone so.. \n\nAs if summoned by my awkward thoughts she walks casually into the kitchen looking around. Stopping then taking a few more steps towards one wall, she makes an adjustment on the thermostat. \n\n\"Best to have the temperature a little warmer for a few days.\" She says. \"The warmth can be calming while you get used to being without clothes in Animal form.\" \n\nHer voice is soft and caring which makes my previous train of thought all the more upsetting. The kettle boils. I set about making two cups. While I do the Shepherd sits at the little table in the chair facing me. She smile genuinely when I hand it to her. Dear lord she's...\n\nI start to feel woozy and suddenly a hand is on my arm helping me into a chair. \n\n\"What was that?\" I ask.\n\n\"Feeling dizzy or disoriented is common. That means it won't be long now but we still have some time if that was your first spell.\" Shepherd Amy returns to her chair and her tea, looking at me steadily. \"Tell me about yourself Megan. Who you are is what this is all about.\"\n\nI take a long sip of the hot tea and look back at her. \"Well, I was born in New York...\"\n\n2 hours later I'm in the living room lying on the couch naked under a blanket. I haven't know which direction is up for I don't know how long. The world is bright and loud and fuzzy all at once. Fuzzy, but getting warm. \n\nVery slowly the world rights itself and I gets my bearings. I'm on my side alright but somehow my body weighs more now. I lift my head too look around and see my Shepherd in the frame of the door to the kitchen, almost like the first time I saw her. \n\nOnly, she's the one in shock now. Her eyes are wide and I can hear her heart racing. Wait, I can hear it? Maybe I'm an Animal that has good hearing!\n\nShepherd Amy takes a few steps forward. \"Is that you Ms. Evans?\" \n\nI remember that I shouldn't try to speak until I learn more about my new body and nod my head twice. \n\n\"Will you allow me to look under the blanket for a moment? I need to ensure you're uninjured.\" She continues. I nod again.\n\nVery slowly she lifts the blanket, her eyes going wider, and then lowers it again. \"Am I okay?\" I think to myself.\n\nShe clears her throat and sits in the chair near my head so it's easy for me to look at her. \"Everything is fine, Megan. Your Change happened without anything going, uh, wrong. It's my pleasure to inform you that your Animal is Tiger.\" \n\nMy heart leaps! I stand up on all fours bristling with an energy I've never felt before. On feet I've never felt before. This is amazing!\n\n\"Ms. Evans, I have more news.\" She continues, \"You're Animal is a Tiger. Not a Tigress. You're a Chimera.\" \n\nI let the words sink in. Chimera's are one in a million and I've never heard of a Tiger or Lion being one. It's almost too much to take in, my mind is reeling. \n\nI focus back on her, my Shepherd, to ground me in the moment. She hold my stare with confidence. \n\nSomething is different about her now. What is that? Her smell, changed? Her body is rigid and I can see a hunger in her eyes now that wasn't there before. That can't be. Did my smell just change? I look around confused. Maybe someone else is here? Out of the corner of my eye is see something drop to the floor. Clothes?\n\nI suddenly realize, Amy's in her Animal form now too.",
"Dear diary.\nSome people make a big deal of their morph day. Others prefer to make it private. Me? It was somewhere in the middle. I had a lot of family living generally nearby, so our living room was relatively packed as it came to midnight. But no friends or acquaintances.\nThe big topic was, of course, what animal am I going to get. Grandma was there with her, ahem, outdated belief that a person's character had something to do with it. Aunt Jenny was extolling the virtues of small bird forms, while sitting on the curtain rail in her blue-glowing sparrow form. My cousins Dan and Dale were organizing a betting pool with multiple levels of accuracy. So far there were 2 small bets on broader categories – \"bird\" and \"ungulate\". And a larger one for \"ring-tailed lemur\". (Probably grandma -_-) Dad was running around, making sure everyone had snacks and drinks. \nAt 5 minutes to midnight mom called for silence. It was almost time. Slowly everybody started morphing into their animal forms. Yellow sheep, green ferret, mauve ibex, brown viper, black hawk, orange tortoise... we had a lot of variety in our family. The last ones were my parents turning into their beige cat and teal crane forms.\nAnd then it was my turn. I closed my eyes. It felt funny. My insides were shifting around to fit some new anatomy. I felt warm and the glow that I was emanating was pushing in through my eyelids. And then the sense of change ended. I expected cheers (and a couple disappointed \"aww\"s), but there was silence. Was something wrong? Had I morphed into something weird, like a worm? I didn't feel like a worm. I still had a sense of arms and legs.\nCautiosly I opened one eye. I was certainly taller than I had been before. Was that the thing, was I bigger than would reasonably fit in the room, like an elephant? No, then I'd feel things pressing against me. Besides, I was still more or less upright. At least I presumed. I would expect having four legs and standing on them to feel different than my old self. Then I was probably some sort of primate, like a gorilla? That would explain the stance. \nBut then why was everyone staring in shock? I opened the other eye and raised my arms to look at them. Ok, first things first, the glow was white. I don't think I had ever seen or heard of anyone having a white glow. But hey, the world is vast, it has happen somewhere, right? I turned my arms, taking in the cool unique glow. \nAnd then it hit me. I wasn't looking at a massive walking knuckle covered in thick fur. I was looking at a hand, five thin fingers, a mostly hairless forearm. Then down at 2 bare legs with flat-ish walking feet. I was flipping through a mental list of all the primates I knew...\n– Ainsley... you're a human. – Dad broke the silence.\n– I... WHAT. What do you mean? Did something go wrong, did I fail?\n– N-no? I think? You're certainly different. You... you morphed into a white-glow human. A homo sapiens.\n\nAnd with that all hell broke loose. Grandma fainted. People were asking for explanations, conjecturing reasons, being shocked, being amazed. Somebody, finding themself at a lack of a better expression, demanded their money back. Meanwhile I wandered over to the mirror. It was weird. I was someone else, a stranger. A normal human, but glowy. Also, the lack of underware made me suddenly super self conscious, so I morphed back into my human fo... my regular form? That will be confusing.\n\nSome people left, others are still downstairs arguing and/or looking for explanations. I'm going to sleep and leaving that whole mess for tomorrow.\n\n",
"\"I don't know man, I'm just not feeling anything!\"\n\n\"C'mon dude! I know you might be nervous but seriously, it feels totally normal.\"\n\nI close my eyes and focus. I can feel it inside my brain, hiding just out of reach. I concentrate all my energy onto that tiny inkling. If I can... Just...\n\n\"Bruh stop. Dude. You're turning purple.\"\n\nMy eyes open and I take a rushed breath, falling to my knees on the grass. Caythan looks down at me with a mildly confused and angry expression as I'm panting in a pathetic heap on the ground. \n\n\"We may need to get a dog on this one.\"\n\nHe morphs into his own spirit animal, a brilliant greenish-blue snake, and was wrapped comfortably around my shoulder before I could brush him off. He points his tail toward the house, eager to get back. as we rush through the knee-high grass, i cant help but feel slightly anxious. Does this mean I don't have a spirit animal? How will i find a proper job to contribute to society? Do I even fit in society?\n\nWe get to the house and call the hospital about an appointment. They don't seem to think we are serious at first, treating us like typical youths making a typical prank call, but Caythan manages to convince the woman at the other end of the line to set a time for us. He really was made to be a lawyer. When we arrive at the hospital, and finally make it into the doctors office, I feel still anxious about how i might fit into the world. \n\nDr Wells makes all the usual checks, blood pressure, heartbeat, and sits me down. \n\"Well Mr Thames I can honestly say there is nothing wrong with you. I must ask, are you suffering from any mental problems? Depression? Sometimes people can't their first morph because of nerves, perhaps that is the problem?\"\n\nAfter being interrogated about my personal life, current work, sex life, she can't come up with any solid solution to my predicament. Caythan and I leave the building, distraught at the results. Just as we climb into the car, we hear a yell from the entrance. \"WAIT! MR THAMES!\"\n\nI turn my head toward Dr Wells who is morphed, a shining golden Labrador carrying a small piece of paper in her mouth. She morphs back into human form and walks up to the door. \"We need to talk.\"\n\nWe all walk back to the hospital, but Caythan is asked to stay in the waiting room while Dr Wells and I go into her office. \"These results are... Well interesting i suppose.\"\n\n\"What results? What are you talking about?\"\n\n\"Your blood tests. They looked fine at first, but upon further inspection have many abnormalities.\" She places the test in front of me and circles many figures and symbols, not that it meant anything to me. \n\"I have reason to believe that, at the time of testing, you were in spirit form.\"\n\nThat one confused me. I hadn't changed at all during my entire life, let alone the testing. Unless...\n\n\"Your spirit animal is a human. Where that places you in our community I'm not sure, but I can give you some names and sites you could visit...\"\n\nI looked down at the blood test. No. She must have made a mistake. Surely something is wrong with the machine. It has to be a misprint. What does this mean for me? Am I normal? I mumble a quick \"thanks\" and leave the room. As we leave the car park, Caythan asks the burning question. \"What happened in there?\"\n\n\"Uhhh... Nothing really. Just help websites and psychologists and shit.\"\n\n\"Oh. Okay.\"\n\nI look out at the slowly setting sun as we drive past field after field of slightly yellowed grass. ",
"Harry’s parents are wolves. His mother’s spirit animal, a great white wolf, was such a beautiful rarity that the she was once courted by the crown prince. Of course, instead she ended up with Harry’s father, who was a grey wolf. He wasn’t the king, but at the very least he was a duke.\n\nWolves are considered the most noble out of all the possible spirit animals. It is said that the families who inherited the mark of the wolf all descended from the great ashen king, who founded the country after making a pact with Fenrir, the great wolf of ashes. More often than not, members of these families go on to join the upper echelons of the ruling class, a destiny considered to be their natural birthright.\n\nThey certainly have it a lot better than the other lineages. Horses, bulls, rabbits, monkeys, other birds. Farmers, carpenters, artisans, traders and tax collectors. No chance of becoming lords, dukes or knights. Soldiers maybe, but never a path to nobility.\n\nThis all worried Harry. Not because of what lies in store for wolves, because for some reason he couldn’t transform to one on his twentieth birthday.\n\nIt was a public embarrassment, both for him and for his parents. They had such a grand ceremony too, fitting for the only son of a duke. He was expected to become the sole successor of the Wilkinson family, as the duke’s brothers all died in the fifty year war that ended just before Harry’s birth.\n\nThe mark of the wolf, which would have appeared in Harry’s back had not materialized. The quickening ceremony was in utter chaos as whispers of affairs twenty years past dominated the talk amongst the nobles. Harry knew, though, that if his mother was unfaithful, there would be a chance that he would be of a different mark. Oh no, please. He wished he was a wolf.\n\n“Cursed child! He is cursed!”, said one old noble who was standing near the princess. Harry wondered if you could infer that the princess holds the same thoughts, judging by proximity.\n\nIt wasn’t fair for Harry. His upbringing was one for wolves. He spent most of the day in his knight training, even going out on knight’s errands after insisting that he was ready for the job, even before his quickening ceremony. The spirit animal aspect is only formality, after all, and not necessary for the jobs of a knight.\n\nOn all levels except for physical, he was a wolf.\n\n“So why aren’t I a wolf, father? Mother, what is the meaning of this? Where is my mark?”. Tears are gathering in Harry’s eyes.\n\n“That is what I want to know. Maria, what is the meaning of this?”. Duke Davis looked angrier than before have ever seen him in his whole life.\n\n“Darling, I.. I don’t know. I have always been faithful!”, Maria sobbed. “You know that! I would never, never in my life be unfaithful to you!”\n\n“Yes, but how do you explain this? Why is Harry still unmarked?”\n\n“I.. I really don’t know.”\n\nSuddenly, a knock on the door. The door opened, and an old man walked in with a servant.\n\nThe duke sighed. “Percy, I’ve told you to guide the guests out of the ceremony, the quickening is over-”\n\n“Duke Davis, pleased to make your acquaintance. I am Melton Erickson, and I currently serve as His Highness’ court adviser.”, the old man interrupted quickly.\n\n“You.. You are Melton?” the duke found himself dumbfounded. The court adviser rarely makes a public appearance. Rumours say that he never even stepped outside the royal castle since the beginning of his tenure.\n\n“The one and only.”, replied Melton. “I would like to first offer my condolences on the unfortunate outcome of your quickening ceremony. The king has ordered me to give you counsel on the boy’s situation.”\n\n“Specifically, His Highness has permitted me to use the royal quickening stone to appraise young Harry’s true mark.”\n\n“True mark? Melton, sir, but no marks appeared on my back, at all!”, Harry answered. He couldn’t feel any either, and from what he knows about the lineage marks, if you have it, you would definitely know it, even without a mirror to look to your back.\n\n“These marks appear when you are at the end of your twentieth year. It might be that you simply are still too young”, said Melton, repeating a fact that everyone in the kingdom already knew.\n\n“But Harry here is without a doubt exactly at the end of his twentieth year. His mark should have quickened, if there was any!”, said the duke. He seemed to be losing patience.\n\n“Correct. That is, if Harry was truly born on that day.”\n\nThe duke was confused. He looked at Maria, Harry, then at Melton. “What?”\n\n“I am very sorry,” sighed Melton. “But the only possible conclusion left is that Harry is not the son you thought you gave birth to twenty years ago today.”\n\nHarry’s heart sank. He wasn’t his parents’ child?\n\n“That can’t be? What if it’s just that Harry doesn’t have any marks?”, cried Maria.\n\n“That is impossible. That is also why I have brought the quickening stone here with me today.”\n\nMelton took out a small box and placed it on the table. From inside, he pulled out a stone so crystal like it might as well have been a diamond.\n\n“Now, Harry, hold this stone in your right hand.”, Melton handed Harry the stone.\n\nHarry had no choice. He had to find out. \n\nHe held the stone and suddenly, a bright red flash engulfed the room. \n\nCould it be that he was just special? Maybe he wolf in him was just in a slumber so deep that it had to be called out some other way?\n\nSuddenly, the red light weakened and a figure of light can be seen hovering above the stone.\n\nIt was a lizard.\n\nWhat? No such spirit animal lineage have existed in the kingdom. Horses, bulls, rabbits, monkeys, and birds. Owls, eagles, and even doves. But not lizards. Never lizards, or even anything remotely reptilian.\n\nHe couldn’t believe it. Lizards are what cats eat. Cats aren’t even a real caste anymore, they were exiled because of how pathetic their lineage was. By that logic, lizards are even lower in the standings.\n\n“No no no no no, NO!”, Harry silently screamed.\n\n\"It's true\", Melton replied. \"You're a lizard, Harry\"\n\n\"NOOOOOOOOOO\"\n\n\n--------\n\nI’m just having fun writing these. Never really wrote that much before, but I’m taking roughly an hour everyday to write in random prompts just for fun and for creative exercise\n\nAlso, I’m very very sorry\n\nEdit: part 2 https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/58fb9l/comment/d9083lt"
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[WP]The four horsemen get together at the bar and reminisce about the "good old days"
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"The bar wasn't at the end of the universe but it was pretty damn close. It had stood the test of Father Time itself - rowdy drunk that he was - and would probably long outlast the four current inhabitants. The bartender, a bull-headed, silver-bodied being with a name long forgotten by anybody who mattered, had seen his fair share of divine beings stop by his bar. They had come and gone, as such creatures were wont to do, but these four seemed to have stuck around longer than most. He shrugged. In all of its eons of existence, the bar had never had a peak capacity over six inhabitants. Four was pretty standard and these four in particular seemed decent enough. Leastways, they didn't turn wine into water for a laugh. The bartender shook his head at the memory. \n\nChrist.\n\n\"I'm just saying, what with Judgement Day come and gone and the whole blasted universe pretty much gone, it seems like we're kind of redundant is all.\" the Red Rider with his bow and arrow said loudly after his companions had laughed him off. The White Rider shook his head and laughed.\n\n\"Come off it War! How long have we been together? War and Conquest - the Dynamic Duo as the humans would say. You'd set 'em up and I'd knock 'em down! The Big Man Upstairs knows all the good work we did down there on Earth. He's not just gonna cast us aside like he did with Lu.\" the White Rider, named Conquest by the humans, replied with an easygoing smile. \n\n\"What do you think Famine? You've been quiet.\" Conquest asked.\n\n\"You two always ignore me unless you're having an argument you want me to agree with you on.\" the Black Rider said sullenly. He was an emaciated figure, pale and ugly who was still nursing his first beer from an hour ago. \n\n\"We do no-\" Conquest began before Famine cut him off.\n\n\"You do and you know it! How many times have you two gone off on some damn crusade and then ignored me when I showed up on your campaigns. Especially you, Conquest. Every time you rolled into some city with some triumphant army in a parade, you never listened to me when I told you of the countless peasants mourning the loss of their fathers, brothers, uncles, and nephews. Or if the women who had cried themselves to sleep after what your conquering armies did to them. And the hunger. You never listened to me about the hunger that spread across the land after you and War rolled through.\" Famine said. Despite the fervor of his words, he did not move when he addressed his companions - remaining as rigidly stiff as a board. Conquest snorted and waved off Famine's comments.\n\n\n\"You always were a downer. Come on now! We had a good run - now it's time to enjoy retirement! The world's over and done with and now we get to sit back and think of the good old days!\" Conquest exclaimed heartily as he downed his drink. War laughed despite himself while Famine just shook his head in disapproval. \n\n\"The only one who had 'good old days' was you, Conquest. Despite the glories that he sometimes got to witness, War still had to watch all the men he had nurtured from childhood dreaming of being warriors get torn apart by rocks, arrows, bullets, lasers, and whatever else the humans had thought of. I had to be there when people were starving, torn apart by grief and thirst so that they could barely walk. And Death had the worst deal of all - having to be there at the end of it for everybody! You two have no idea what Judgement Day did to him!\" Famine cried out, now shouting and standing up. Conquest still looked as though he couldn't give a care in the world.\n\n\"Come off it! Death is just as fine as any one of us - ain't that right, buddy? I'm glad you wanted to drink with us today.\" Conquest called to the fourth person in the bar, a man sitting in a separate table from the other three. A figure shrouded in grey rags. He was pale yet light seemed to be drawn to his body and be sucked into the void that were his eyes, giving him a dark aura.\n\n\"I did not show up to drink.\" Death said simply before resuming at staring at the four. Conquest's smile began to fade. Raising an inquisitive eyebrow, War spoke up.\n\n\"Then why are you here? Forty days it's been since Judgement Day and we haven't seen a sight of you. Today, you show up out of nowhere and don't even want to drink?\" War asked incredulously.\n\n\"Don't act so surprised. You were quite correct in your summation of the ''Big Man Upstairs''' intentions. You were all loyal soldiers but the war is over now. And Our Lord no longer has any need of you.\" Death said with a note of finality. All three of them at once realized what he was saying. Conquest reached for his bow and War unsheathed his sword and held it above his head, poised to behead Death where he stood. Famine just sat back down and closed his eyes.\n\nDeath ignored all of them. With a soft wave of his hand, the three once-mighty beings simply vanished - the only sign that they had once existed were their half-empty drinks that remained on the table. \n\nAs he wiped away something in his eyes, Death heard a small snuffle of surprise from behind the bar. The horrified looking bartender's bovine eyes were looking at Death like a madman. He had had several belligerent deities and evil spirits in his bar before but no one had ever, ever, EVER been killed in here before. Most were simply too powerful and the others were beloved enough to retire peacefully and doze away into the sweet embrace of Eternal Sleep.\n\n\"Best prepare yourself for what you saw today. Since Judgement Day, the Almighty has recently been 'clearing house', so to speak . I imagine it will be several eons until the day comes but even you will be rendered irrelevant one day.\" Death said as he tipped his hat and headed outside to unhitch his horse. \n \n\n "
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[WP] you accidentally run over a lonely old lady. She considers pressing charges, but agrees not to as long as you spend two hours a week playing board games with her. It soon becomes apparent that she hasn't had an ordinary life...
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"Driving down the street in my large, red pickup truck with my straight blue jeans on, I stole a quick glance at my retro flip-phone and saw bae had hit me up with a booty blast request. I felt a small bump as I crossed the intersection, weird, I didn’t remember there being a bump there at all. I heard a small, weak scream coming from underneath the wheels of my sexy red truck. I quickly drove off the bump as I heard another yelp when my rear tires went over the bump. I looked like a fool, standing there in the middle of the intersection at midnight with my fantastically red truck glowing in the moonlight. I checked for the bump, but only found a little old Asian lady curled up in the middle of the crosswalk. Ah shit, this can’t be happening, I’ve already run over two other little old ladies this month, my backyard didn’t have enough soil space for another one. There was also no way I was gonna be heading back to the county jail with crazy flaming Jack waiting there for me to run his fingers through my loins again. Nah, I wasn’t going back there. I moved towards the lady as I found her standing straight up, dusting herself off and glaring straight at me. Scary old lady aren’t you. “You run me over, pay big money!” she screamed at me as she took out her high-tech phone to call the suits on me. “Now hoooold on there,” I attempted to explain as I held my hands up high, “We can sort this thing out among ourselves like responsible adults.” “You run me over. You pay!” the little old devil screamed as the 911 operator came up. I dropped to my knees and begged for forgiveness, “Isn’t there anything else I can do?” Her eyes looked up quickly as the operator asked for the location, a quick smile flashed across her face as it faded just as fast. She shut her phone off. “Yes, yes little boy, I have something for you to do. Come to Hidden Springs Spa tomorrow, 8, no late!” she commanded me as she walked away. I got back in my handsome, alluring, red hot truck, just across town a booty needed some blasting. \n\tI got there just on time, the little old lady was waiting for me there at the spa with a box and a rickety set of chairs and a rock-solid plastic table. “You stay two hours!” the old lady told me as I struggled to stay on the little barstool. I told her I understood and the first game came out. Coup, the card game, was slammed on the table. Three burly Asian guys with dragon and tiger tattoos came streaming out a back room and joined us at the table. Two attractive and fit women, also advertised with dragon and tiger tattoos came through another door. Bad guys win. Bad guys win. Baddies win again. I didn’t think it’d be so hard to read these guys and gals. Their smiling, stone-cold faces were impossible to read. I also never had the pleasure of being on the bad side. I was given a few sesame rice balls and told I could use the tattoo parlor of theirs anytime I wanted. I took a small break in the spa room, with my own attendant giving me the best massage of my life. A fortune cookie was propped up with a picture of the little old lady. “Next week, same time, same place.” Good thing too, I needed to polish up my lovely red truck anyways and the bae needed my attention.\n\tThe game this time was mafia. There were three additional guys there. Bad guys win. Bad guys win. Good guys win. Again, I had the pleasure of being on the good side every time. I was starting to get these people though. I felt like I was beginning to understand their body language. The microscopic changes in their faces, the slight movements of their bodies, it was all starting to become clear. This time I headed straight for the parlor and fell asleep there. Woke up with irritation all over. Felt like my body was on fire. Didn’t want to question it, must’ve been the massage. This week I had to clean my red hot killer truck, give her a nice polish again. The bae needed me out again, she works me to the bone all the time. Dumplings this time as a parting gift. Madame Chang is pleased. That’s what the note said. The dumpling are delicious. Best dumplings I’ve ever had.\n",
"(I’m very new at writing prompts, please don’t be too harsh (constructive criticism is greatly appreciated))\n\n\"17 Peterhof Avenue...\" I muttered as I peered at my GPS system.\n\n\"Turn right. You have arrived at your destination.\"\n\nI parked and clambered out of my car. It was a nice suburban neighbourhood with a neat row of small stucco houses. I pushed open the gate which swung open with a creak and rang the doorbell. I heard it reverberating through the house.\n\nA while later the door creaked open and I was greeted by the old lady. The old lady who I had run over. Darn, if I hadn’t been texting while driving I wouldn’t even be here, forced to play board games with this boring old woman for two whole hours.\n\n“Oh, here you are. Come right in!” I sighed as I thought about what better things I could have been doing and stepped in.\n\n“Please, sit down and make yourself comfortable! Would you like tea, or something...a little stronger?” she asked as I sat down on the sofa.\n\nWell, since I’m here, might as well drink some of her alcohol, I thought, and asked for the latter. Soon she came back with two glasses of a transparent liquid. I was surprised by the biting taste of vodka when I took a sip. Looks are deceiving, I thought - this old lady can certainly hold her alcohol!\n\nAs she sat down, I was able to get a closer look at her. I was told that she was seventy years old, but she looked much older. \n\n“I thought we’d be able to play Scrabble today. What do you say?” she asked me.\n\n“Absolutely.” Well, that was good. Scrabble was the game I always played with my family.\n\nI looked at my letters. S, U, D, E, S, H, C. Not bad, I thought.\n\nShe decided to start first, playing POLE. After ruminating for a while. I played CHOSE. \n\n“So,” breaking the awkward silence, “you don’t really look seventy.” I grinned sheepishly.\n\n“Ah, well, age is just a number. Frankly, it doesn’t matter how old I am. Father Grigory took care of that.” she replied.\n\nGreat. She’s old AND weird. Just my luck.\n\n“Who’s Father Grigory?”\n\n“Well, he was a healer - he was the only one who could help my sick brother. He’s dead now. He was murdered.”\n\n“You have a brother?”\n\n“Had. He’s dead now. My whole family’s dead. All shot. Bang bang. I’m supposed to be dead too, but they never checked whether everyone really died. So here I am, alive and well!” she said bitterly.\n\nWow, did she come from a family of gangsters or something? I was intrigued.\n\nAs I played REDS on her EAR, a glittery purple ornament on the table caught my eye.\n\n“What is this?”\n\nShe picked it up. “It’s something my father gave to my grandmother as a gift on Easter - that’s why it’s shaped like an egg. This was made four years after I was born.”\n\nShe then opened it to reveal a red heart-shaped ornament perched on a colourful, intricate pedestal. She opened the heart ornament. It opened like a three-leaf clover, with three miniature pictures.\n\n“This is my father and mother, and this is my oldest sister when she was a little baby,” she pointed and said. They looked positively imperial, not even close to gangsters. When I glanced at her face, I saw her eyes brimming with tears. I placed a hand on her shoulder. \n\nWe played in silence. \n\nUltimately, she won the game by 17 points. “Better luck next time!” she teased and grinned. \n\n“Just you wait, next week I’m here you’re going down,” I responded. I was surprised to realise that I was actually looking forward to meeting this old, eccentric woman next week. \n\nI stepped out the door. “Thank you for stopping by, young man!”\n\n“Thank you too, Madam…” I hesitated. “I don’t quite seem to recall your name,” I said, red with embarrassment. \n\n“Oh, you can call me Anastasia, dearie,” and the door swung shut.\n\n----\nThis story ignores the confirmation in 2009 that Grand Duchess Anastasia Nikolaevna Romanova did, indeed, die with her family when they were executed by firing squad in 1918. This story also ignores the fact that the surprise of the Mauve Egg (a picture can be viewed here: http://i3.mirror.co.uk/incoming/article5455760.ece/ALTERNATES/s615b/Faberge-mauve-egg-surprise.jpg) is in fact owned by Russian oligarch Viktor Vekselberg. \nThanks for reading! (P.S. see if you can catch all the hints throughout the story!)",
"Her hands shook as she reached for the bishop. She was going to take my knight, I knew. It hovered, wavered, almost toppling her king, then stopped, two squares short. What?\n\n\"That's an interesting move. Are you sure?\"\n\n\"Quite sure, young man.\"\n\nYoung man. Huh. I wasn't so young, actually. \n\nI reached for my rook, and took her unprotected bishop. \"How young do you think I am, Miss Watson?\"\n\nHer shaking hand reached and pushed a pawn into the path of my rook.\n\n\"Everybody's young when you get to my age.\"\n\nI looked at her face. She had a twinkling smile. One eye was obscured by the bandage she still wore after the accident. \n\nThe accident. \n\nMy mind flashed back.\n\nThe rain. A lightning flash. I should have been going slower. Why hadn't I been going slower? More rain. I tried to tell myself I was sitting in her living room, playing chess. I was breathing faster and my chest hurt, and all I could see was the rain from that night. The broken stop light, and then the sickening thump. The thump. \n\n\"Are you all right, young man?\"\n\nSuddenly I was back in her living room. I was breathing hard, and my chest still hurt. There was a chess board on the coffee table, with a game in progress.\n\n\"Are you all right?\"\n\nI looked at her face. The wrinkles around her eyes showed genuine concern. I took a deep breath, and counted to ten slowly. Then I exhaled. \"Yeah, I'm all right.\"\n\n\"It's your move.\"\n\nI surveyed the board. She had just pushed her pawn. It was unprotected. I took it. \n\n\"Check.\"\n\nI had stopped the car, stepped into the rain. My clothes were soaked by the time I found her mangled body underneath my car.\n\nShe moved her knight bishop to block my rook. Now it was her turn to say \"Check,\" as the vanished knight cleared an attack on my king. I captured the offending bishop.\n\nHer neck had been so unnaturally twisted. I had cried and cried as I waited for the ambulance. Cried and cried and cried as the coldness of the rain soaked into my skin, into my mind, into my soul. \"Please don't die!\"\n\n\"Oh, I'm not about to die\" she said. I hadn't realised I'd said the words aloud. She moved her other knight. \"Check\" She had a very strange smile on her face. \"I'm not about to die, young man. Not since I...\"\n\nI stared at her face. Her smile was unreadable. \n\n\"Since you what?\"\n\nShe just said, \"It's your move, young man.\"\n\nI looked at the board, and hesitated. My king had only one square to move to. Then she moved her knight again, \"Check.\" She had my rook and king forked. I couldn't save both. I moved my king, but she didn't capture my rook, she checked me again. Now my queen was in danger. I stared at the board for a good five minutes, with the slow sinking realisation that I couldn't save her.\n\nI couldn't save her. The paramedics had arrived, and that's what they'd said. I sobbed into the shoulder of a policeman, that it was all my fault, I had killed her. The policeman had said nothing, just let me sob and sob. I asked them to take me to the station. I didn't dare to drive. I never wanted to drive again.\n\n\"Are you all right, young man?\"\n\nI looked at her face, then at the board, then back at her face. Her kind smile was back. \n\n\"It's your move.\"\n\nI moved my king, and she took my queen. Now I could see why she had sacrificed those two pieces. \n\n\"You're very good at chess.\"\n\n\"I know I am, young man.\"\n\nSome words she had spoken drifted into my mind. *Not since I...*. I moved my king again, and she pushed another pawn. \"Check!\"\n\n\"Not since you what?\"\n\nShe merely pursed her lips, and stated \"You're in check.\"\n\nThen my words flooded out. \"You were dead. I know you were. And then...\"\n\nAnd then, the next morning, she had been there, at the police station. The officers looked as frightened as I felt. And she'd said... she wouldn't press charges. Charges of manslaughter, or dangerous driving, anything. As long as I came to play this game.\n\nI moved my king again, but I'd been forced behind her line of pawns. \n\n\"Check\" she repeated. I moved, then \"Check\" again. I hesitated again. I only had one move, and then...\n\nShe sighed, and said \"I guess I do owe you an explanation.\"\n\nI picked up my king, and looked up, waiting for her story. \n\n\"Before someone dies, they get a chance to play a game with Death.\"\n\nI stared at her and blinked. She smiled at me again, but this time there was a touch of sadness in her eyes. \n\n\"You're such a nice man. Perhaps I shouldn't have told you.\"\n\nBut I had to have an answer. \"You played... a game with Death? As in... the guy with the scythe and the black cloak?\"\n\nShe merely smiled, even more sadly \"It's not exactly like that... Not the cloak and things\"\n\nI shook my head in disbelief. \"You played a game with Death and ... and won?\" Then I looked at the board. She was, I had to admit, an incredibly good chess player. But no, this was ridiculous.\n\n\"Oh, you're such a kind young man.\" \n\nShe shook her head slowly. Her smile had gone. There was only sadness now. \n\nI placed my king on the board. She moved her rook.\n\n\"Checkmate.\"\n\n\"Well played,\" I said.\n\n\"Thank you,\" she replied. \"I've never lost a game.\"\n\n\"Even when you played against Death?\"\n\nShe looked up at me, a tear in her eyes. \"Oh, you poor dear, no. I didn't play against Death.\"\n\n\"No?\" I was confused.\n\n\"You did.\"\n\nI blinked in surprise. \"What? When?\"\n\nHer eyes bored deep into mine. \"You poor, poor dear,\" she repeated. Her hands shook as she cleared the pieces from the board, arranging them into the box. The last piece was my king. She gazed at it contemplatively for a while, then placed it in the box as well. My heart felt cold. \n\n\"Thank you for the game. I get so lonely sometimes,\" she said, closing the box with a click.",
"Alright, this is it. Playing a game with granny could not be that hard. I took a deep breath and knocked on the door. It was opened in an instant, but I was shocked to see a young lady, instead of the granny I hit with my car. Guess it's her granddaughter. \n\n\"Name?\" she asked without a single greeting.\n\n\"Xan, miss,\" I responded, quick on my feet.\n\nShe took a pen, scribbled my name on it and slapped it on my chest. The little paper now indicated that I am, indeed, Xan.\n\n\"Go in, you are G8,' she waved with her hand at another door and stopped paying attention to me. I already had a bad feeling about this whole thing, but it grew worse the second I opened the door.\n\nWhat I saw were rows and rows of tables. There were about 200 people in the same room, all playing chess. The room was awfully quiet for a room with 200 people, but for that reason I didn't think to ask anyone a question. Somehow disturbing this atmosphere seemed wrong. I walked to the G row and sat down at the eight table. Without a single question the man in front of me made his first move. \n\n\"Hey, do I go now or wait for the traffic light?\" I joked, trying to break the tension, but no one laughed at all. I didn't even get angry looks. Everyone seemed awfully depressed and just played in silence. I looked around the tablse to see at least one friendly face. The man next to me started weeping. No one paid attention. In a low whisper I asked to the guy sitting in front of me.\n\n\"The hell is going on?\" I asked as quietly as possible.\n\n\"New guy?\" He shot a quick response.\n\n\"Yes. It is quite a story...\"\n\n\"First and Ruby street?\" he interrupted me.\n\n\"Why, yes, the darnest thing... I looked around and saw no one, but the second I started driving...\"\n\n\"You hit an old lady,\" the man next to me interrupted. \"And you thought that you rather play games than go to jail.\"\n\n\"Why, yes, but how do you...\"\n\nBut I was suddenly interrupted by a shrieking voice. I looked at the direction of it and saw the old lady in a makeshift throne, being carried by four sorry looking men. She was carrying a scepter and had an ornamented crown around her head. She spoke in the most commanding voice.\n\n\"What is that chatter? Are you trying to enchant the king with your words? That is not how chess works! Not at all! You all have forgotten the great game of chess! You all have forgotten that your actions and decisions have consequences. But no worries, I will teach you all. One of you might even be the next chess champion! Oh, I will bring this noble game back to the people!\"",
"\"Oh god,\" Brad moaned, feet slipping in the puddles on the road as he clung to the side of his car. There was a bruise forming on his forehead and the last three beers he'd had were sloshing around in his belly, threatening to come up. His rear lights still lit the woman, crumpled up in the street, skid marks pointing to her. \"Oh god.\" He could see the imprint of his tires on her dress. \n\nBrad looked up at the dark windows, the lonesome halogen orbs of streetlights, the cat's cradle of power lines looming above him. It was impossible, he thought, impossible that no one had seen. She'd been painted white in his headlights, her face twisting in horror at the sudden inevitable impact, the shudder of his car as she disappeared beneath his wheels. Like a lightning strike, and then the thunder. And yet no lights went on. No one started screaming. The street was hollow, silent, somehow quieter than when he had began. \n\n\"Boy,\" came the voice through the silence, and Brad's feet slipped out from under him, sending him crawling on the wet asphalt. Rainwater soaked spots into his jeans. He was whimpering, animal noises escaping from his throat as his hand scrabble against the smooth surface of his car door, seeking purchase. She was talking. The old woman. The ruin of cloth and bone. The steady motion of her jaw in the red lights. \"Oh, dear me, you naughty, naughty boy,\" she said. \n\n\"I'm sorry,\" Brad moaned, \"sorry sorry sorry,\" his voice degenerating into babbled syllables as he tried to pull himself back up. \"Sorreesoreesorreesorreeee!\"\n\n\"I ought to press charges,\" the woman said, and he could see the teeth white in the jaw, could see what should have been the nose above it, could see the hollow black eyes in that ruin of a face. Her limbs twitched like a crushed insect, the autonomous motion of a broken nervous system. Fingers grasped. Legs twitched. She was, ever so subtly, crawling towards him. \n\n\"But I'll tell you what,\" she said, air whistling through a dozen new cavities. The teeth made a smile. \"I'll let it go, just this once, if you come to my house once a week, and play board games with me. Just two hours a week.\" An arm raised up at an angle and her torn dress gaped open, her chest caved in, a human body reduced to a flapping bag full of little white pieces. Finger bones. Teeth. Broken shards of glass. Chess pieces. Rattling, whistling, jagged fragments of bone. The woman breathed. The sound of rolling dice. \"What do you say, sonny?\" The grin grew wider, and wider still. \"What do you say?\" \n\nBrad began to scream then, his groping hand finding the door handle and pulling it back open, as he scrambled back into the light of his car, fumbling, grasping at the steering wheel, stomping down on the gas. The car growled and shrieked back to life, swerving wildly down the darkened street, rear lights fishtailing into the distance. \n\nEleanor Higgs lay on the street, watching the car disappear into the distance, feeling the cold seep into her bones. She moved her head by degrees, hearing the wet sounds of bones re-setting, lying on her back to stare up at the starless night. \"Oh, darn it,\" she said. Her tongue found its way back into her throat. \"Board games. Huh! No one plays board games anymore! Should've asked him to play cards with me instead!\" ",
"Six months of Community Service; by which the honorable Judge Moretti meant ‘you will go play board games with Ms. Weber every week, for at minimum two hours, until 6 months are up.’ If I flaked out, at all, then it would either reset to Time-0, or I would have to go to prison. This was all because I had hit Ms. Weber with my car while she tried to cross the street to ‘go look at the pretty flowers.’ I swore she had stepped in front of me, witnesses swore I had been on my phone. Bastards.\n\nI steeled myself for very boring evenings at least once a week, and prepared to knock on Ms. Weber’s door. Before I could knock, the door suddenly opened and I looked down into the smiling, wrinkled face of Ms. Weber.\n\nShe was walking with a cane now, apparently, and she was already in her pajamas even though it was only 3pm on a Saturday. I was hoping to go out that evening, so I wanted to go ahead and get it over with. Her short, silver hair was done up in a classic ‘Grandma’ look, and her pajamas were a floral pattern that went out of style sometime around the time Nixon became president. \n\nMy hand still hovered where the door had been as I tried to process the fact that she had apparently been waiting and watching for me, “Uh, Ms. Weber?”\n\n“Alice, please,” she said sweetly as she opened the door wider and stepped to the side. Her bunny slippers squeaked slightly on the linoleum floor as she motioned me inside. “Glad you could make it so early, Mike.”\n\n“Yea, I uh,” I shuffled my feet nervously as I looked around, “I was hoping to get this over with as quickly as possible if you don’t mind.” Her house looked like a time capsule. Family pictures hung along the walls, furniture looked like it had been bought new sometime around the conclusion of World War 2, and the walls were painted a sickeningly Nicotine Yellow. Hearing a lighter click behind me, I turned around and saw Ms. Weber, Alice, lighting a cigarette. Never mind, I thought, they actually *are* Nicotine Yellow.\n\n“I apologize,” she said as she made a motion to wave the smoke away from my face, “Nick smoked, and I picked up the habit after he died. I only really smoke when I’m stressed.” She moved past me and into around a corner. I followed closely behind her and saw she had moved into the dining room where several board games were stacked.\n\n“You’re stressed?” I asked before silently kicking myself. Of course she’s stressed; she’s playing board games with the guy who ran her over.\n\nShe seemed to pick up on the thought and smiled warmly at me in a sarcastically sweet manner, “Well I am playing board games with the gentleman who hit me with his car.”\n\n“Uh, right,” I muttered as I moved over to look at the games: Scrabble, Monopoly, and Chutes and Ladders. A rather riveting collection if I do say so myself. I pulled out Scrabble and began setting up the board.\n\nAlice moved around to the kitchen area and began rooting around in the drawers. After a few minutes she pulled out an oven mitt and took a pot off the stove. She poured whatever was inside into a cup, placed a tea bag into it, and then calmly shuffled back over to the table. I could make out the faint smell of a black tea. \n\nShe sat down and pulled her set of tiles over to herself and began shifting them around, occasionally taking a sniff of her tea. After several minutes, she finally looked up at me and smiled, “Well are you ready to get started?” Taking her cigarette out of her mouth, she put it out in an ashtray in the center of the table and blew a small cloud of smoke away from me.\n\n“Sure,” I said as I began looking over my tiles, trying to decide what to do with A-E-N-M-S-K-L. As I was pondering that, the phone suddenly started ringing. Alice looked over at the phone in mild frustration but got up to go see who was calling her. As she answered the phone, her face suddenly changed from mild frustration to delight, and she began idly chatting away with whoever was on the other end. After about ten minutes, she finally hung up the phone with a smile and shuffled back over to the table.\n\n“I am sorry for that,” she said as she eased into her seat, “But Kimberly was calling.”\n\nI placed the word ‘NAME’ down in the center and decided that some small talk would be better than sitting quietly for the next hour and a half. “Is that your daughter?”\n\n“Oh no,” she said laughing, “But she might as well be, sweet girl. No that’s Kimberly Laird. She was just calling to check up on me. Heard about the accident and wanted to make sure I was okay.”\n\n“Oh,” I said as I patiently waited for her to decide what to play. After a few more moments I bucked up the courage to ask, “So who is she?”\n\nAlice paused and took a sip of her tea. She looked at me incredulously over the rim of the mug before she grew thoughtful, and then began laughing. She only laughed for a moment before she stopped herself, “I forget how young some people are. She’s the daughter of Melvin Laird. He was Secretary of Defense during Nixon.”\n\nWait, what? She was friendly with the children of the Secretary of Defense? I looked at her in confusion while she played “WASH” and drew her new tiles. After a few moments of staring at my own tiles trying to come up with a new word I finally asked, “So how do you know the Secretary of Defense?”\n\n“I worked for him,” she said with a smile as she took another sip of tea. \n\n“You *worked* for the Department of Defense,” I said, my mouth hanging open slightly. I shook my head and played ‘HELLO’ with my new tiles off WASH.\n\n“As a Russian translator,” Alice said smiling. “After the Cold War started, they wanted anyone who could speak Russian, either fluently or moderately. I was fluent because of my husband, so I submitted an application.”\n\n“Your husband was Russian?”\n\nAlice nodded, “His real name was Nicholai. His parents had fled Russia, well the Soviet Union, after the Bolshevik Revolution succeeded.” She played PORK off HELLO. \n\n“Why did he have to flee,” I asked as I studied my tiles.\n\n“His family supported Romanov, and so his father fought for the White Army while Nicholai and his mother fled. He was captured twice, executed once, and survived a second execution by a group of nurses removing his appendix,” Alice said matter-of-factly.\n\nI held my hands up and waved them around some, “Wait, back up, he was *executed* once, but survived a second one? What happened to the first one?”\n\nAlice touched the right side of her face right at the jaw, “He got hit here by the firing squad. It blew off part of his jaw, and he lay in the snow hoping they wouldn’t bayonet him, or that he wouldn’t bleed to death.” She shrugged, “They gave up and moved on, giving him the chance to crawl to safety.”\n\n“And the second time?”\n\n“He healed up, and went back to the fight,” Alice said. “He got wounded again, but not nearly as badly. The hospital he was in got taken by the Reds, so the nurses falsified his chart to say he had to have his appendix removed immediately or he would die. They refused to execute a man who couldn’t stand on his feet, so they decided to wait. Before he had fully recovered, he got secreted out of the hospital. After that, he followed his family.”\n\n“What happened then,” I asked, actually becoming interested in the story at this point. I played PAST on PORK.\n\nAlice picked up her tea and held it in her hands, smiling at the warmth and memory, “I met Nicholai in California.” She took a sip and put the cup down, “Unfortunately I met him right before I was moving across the country. I had a job offer and I wanted to take it.” She breathed in deeply and sighed heavily, “Then came World War II; I worked in a factory, and Nicholai went to war.”\n\nI was leaning forward at this point trying to drink in this amazing story. “How did you meet afterwards though?”\n\n“He found me,” she said with a quiet laugh, “I heard a knock on my door one day and there he was, standing in his dress uniform having just got back. We were married shortly after.” Alice leaned back in her chair and sighed heavily and smiled over at an Icon on the wall, “Later, when the Cold War was in full swing, I went to go work as a translator. Then, after Laird left office, I retired from the work and found work as a school teacher.”\n\n“Wait,” I said after a few moments pause, “if Nicholai was Russian, how did you two weather the Red Scare, and all that? Wouldn’t you have been investigated?”\n\nAlice smiled, “That’s a story for another day, Mike. It’s getting late, and Matlock is coming on the TV soon.” She stood up and grabbed her cane, “Let me walk you to the door.”\n\nI dutifully stood and walked with her to the front door. As she opened it I looked at her and realized that, standing right here, in very unassuming attire, was one of the most interesting people I had ever met. “Next Saturday,” I asked.\n\n“Sounds fine,” she said, and I stepped through the door and she quietly closed it behind me.\n\n----\n\nr/grenadiere42"
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Claustrophobic, arachnophobia, acrophobia, nyctophobia, thalassophobia, monophobia and more at https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/List_of_phobias
Good luck!
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[WP] Write about your protagonist experiencing a phobia so vividly that the reader feels that fear. (Common phobias in description)
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"The abyss is there to swallow me whole. Blue death crashing against the hull, ready at a moment's notice to drag me under, down into the uncharted depths of hell. Brackish, murky, hell, with creatures that could swallow a ship whole.\n\n\nRipples on the surface, and nothing but darkness below. I cannot get away. I cannot run. I am at the mercy of its tides. It's *everywhere*, I cannot see to safety. Miles and miles under the surface, this pit is going to eat me whole.\n\nI cannot breathe. My lungs are getting smaller and smaller. It's infiltrating my mind! It's infiltrating my body! I cannot catch my breathe, and I feel like I am dying. I pray I never know the depths, of the brackish, hellish sea. ",
"Well, that's how it goes, is it not? It's sharp and thin, an empty feeling on me as if the moment it comes down i'll pop like a balloon.\n\nThere's a strange spot between your neck and your collarbone. It's where you generally get hickeys (because i'd know, right?). Anyways, it generally feels more hollow than not. If you just put a finger over it without pressing it feels uncomfortable. Like a knife to open up your body.\n\nExcept now it's an actual knife. The worst part is it's not a slash like you'd expect, but rather just hanging from a thread. I can't move, but it jerks slightly and drags *ever so slightly*. It's a pointed tip, but it practically feels smooth on how perfectly placed it is. It drags more like if someone had a q-tip over your skin than something hard and sharp.\n\nI'm tempted to say it tickles. But that wouldn't do it justice. Every muscle in my body is tightened up. I've needed to pee for five hours now. I've wanted to shiver for more, but everything's shut down.\n\nCold. I can only see a glint of it on the corner of my eye, my head tied down to the left side. It shines into vision if the stars are just right.\n\nThe string raises for a moment.\n\nThen snaps.",
"I hate camping. I loathe it. My insomnia creeps from underneath its mossy lodgings and rests itself by my head. My friends are all deep asleep, dreaming of wonderful things, of summer days and picnics. I'm here stuck in this sightless reality. From my sleeping bag I can only see the clouds and hear their snores, all melding together into the starless night.\n\nI am the only conscious person here for miles. Miles. And yet, I sense...things. Whispers. Saturated shadows at the edges of my vision. Sometimes they move. I dart up, goosebumps all along my skin, and my ears throb with the sound of pumping blood. And I hear nothing. Why is it so quiet? I thought they were snoring. I can't hear my friends, what's going on?\n\nI turn to my sides...and I can't see them. The silhouette of my hand dances before my face in cloud-shaded moonlight. I can feel the ground and silt below me. The wind blows steadily, tickling my hands with blades of grass. But I can't see anything. I can't see. The darkness thickens, gnawing away the world around me.\n\n*John.*\n\nI bite down hard on my lip, feeling the tremors dance along my limbs.\n\n*John, talk to us. John.*\n\nI can feel it slide between my ears. My heart thumps heavy. *Th-dum...th-dum...th-dum...*\n\nIt's just my imagination. We're safe. These are well-known campgrounds. I feel a hand caress my thigh.\n\n\"Fuck,\" I pant, twisting around wildly in my bag, my clothes now sweat-drenched. And there's no one there. Everyone's gone...everyone's gone! Where is everyone?!\n\nDeep breaths. Come on, calm down. How old are you? Come on. Just take deep breaths...\n\nWhere did those faces come from...In the bushes...in the trees...faces smiling at me...and staring...no eyes...I'm all alone...\n\nI close my eyes and feel a thousand cold hands fall upon me.\n\n***\n\nI blearily open my eyes to sunlight streaking across the camp grounds. Ben yawns, waves lazily to me. \n\n\"That sleep was great. How'd you sleep, man? You were making some strange noises last night.\"\n\nI hate camping.\n\n",
"Today was supposed to be the day, where I could see myself facing against them. And they came back. I see them every day, every night, always lurking around the corner, waiting for me to set my guard down.\n\nThey appear with different forms at specific times, but they are never without eyes, a giant set of eyes seeing through me, always. I can't get away from them, those eyes, those damn eyes. They are always watching me, judging me, giving me orders. I hate them, I want them gone.\n\nWhy are they never gone?\n\nThose eyes, the different colors, the different shapes, even in my sleep I see them. Today was supposed to be the day, where I could see myself facing against them, and they came back, watching me from afar. From the ground below, always watching every move.\n\nYou want me, do you? Alright, i'll go with you, with a jump.\n\n(On the spot: Ophthalmophobia, the fear of being watched)",
"Bees. More specifically bee nests. Those gray or brown orbs that spew hundreds of thousands of the stinging insects at the slightest provocation. Demonic murderballs, I call them.\n\nHow could nature be so devious to come up with such a creation? A structure that is at once an impressive feat of natural engineering and also a source of abject terror. The mere sight of one, even in a picture, is enough to make one's hair stand on end. The fact that they can be found anywhere--under an eve, hanging from a tree branch, inside the walls of a house, tucked into a little out of the way cranny, or even inside the joint of a car door, as I discovered to my horror one summer--only adds to their fear element.\n\nBut it's not just the sight of a nest that is bad, it's the feeling one gets on seeing or thinking of one. That paranoia that the molding under your cupboards might house a nest, or that one could be built on anything that is not in your direct line of sight. Just putting one's legs under a table is enough to make one afraid that they'll jar an unseen nest, releasing a torrent of angry wasps. Or worse, that a nest has been constructed affixed to one of your limbs without you being aware of it; it's not there, really, but you can feel its presence, the texture of the paper shell, hanging from you...\n\nAnd here I sit, too afraid to move, afraid that I will pull apart the nest that is attached to my leg and the underside of my desk. All because I decided to share with you my phobia.",
"I let it all out. Although I preferred to hold it in until I got home instead of using the outhouse, it still felt really good to finally let it out. I only wish I had done it in the middle of the day. I do often get paranoid at night, and walking 70 feet away from the cabin didn't exactly help that, especially when it's all to sit in a one square meter toilet. I finally got up and finished up. I went to open the door.\nIt won't budge. Did I lock it? No, there's no lock. I tried again. It still wont budge. Did someone put something in front of the door? Was this some sort of prank?\n\n\"He-hello?\"\n\nNo answer. Don't tell me the door got stuck. Don't panic! That's the most important thing. I need to keep a cool head, no matter what. At least that's what i thought. I push the door once more. Am I going to spend the whole night out here? One more push. I can't get it open no matter what. I start walking in circles right when I hit the wall. I can't really walk in here. Or lie down for that matter. My stomach slowly starts twisting. I can feel it, and try to untwist it. I back up a little, but hit the wall again. I move away from the wall and hit the door instantly.\n\nI CAN'T MOVE AT ALL!\n\nI throw myself at the door in a desperate attempt to get out of this imprisoned hell, but it still won't even budge. My eyes start overflowing. \"HELP!\" I scream to no avail. Everyone's inside the cabin sleeping. I back away from the door, but the wall hit me instantly. Why can't I move!? Why does it feel like I'm growing!? The walls get smaller and smaller as I continue to grow. My limbs become more and more crippled as I make a desperate attempt at flailing them around.\n\n\"HEEEEEEELP!\" Still no answer!\n\n\"HEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE...\" I lose all control over my voice as my stomach unleashes hell. I open the toilet to vomit, but the smell makes me even more nauseous. My eyes won't stop crying either.\nI'll have to spend the rest of the night here.\n\nEdit: Fixed paragraphs",
"I feel it, always, watching me. It's black, beedy, soulless eyes unmoving.\n\nYet I've never seen *it.* That's the part that bothers me. Everybody hates that feeling of being watched that you just can't shake. You feel it behind you but you, but you look and it's not there. The feeling that makes you walk just a bit faster, turn the lights a little brighter or the music a little louder.\n\nI can manage it when I'm not alone. It's still watching, but I feel safer in company, somehow. \n\nBut times like now, when I'm sitting alone, there's no shaking it. I'm getting more terrified every moment. I keep looking up at the window every few seconds to check if it's there. I keep opening the curtains and closing them again, I can't decide which is worse.\n\nYou know, it would help if my back wasn't facing a doorway. I should move. But what if it's behind me already? God, this is ridiculous -- my hands are shaking. \n\nWait -- what was that noise?\n\nIt's just the cat. It's just the cat. Please just be the cat. \n\nI'm thirsty but at this point I can't even swallow. I should move my chair.. I can't. I just can't move. I can't believe myself sometimes.\n\nThe cat's outside.\n\n*Pit-pat.*\n\n\n\n *Pit-pat.* \n\n\n *Pit-pat.* \n\nOh god, oh god..\n\n***QUACK QUACK!***\n\nNO! NO! SOMEONE HELP! THE DUCK -- THE DUCK--\n\n--\n\n*Weeks later, police found Arick Daniels dead in his home, covered in small unidentified bite marks. Some long white feathers were found at the scene, but no other evidence indicating the cause of death.*\n",
"*Please don't let me fly away* \n \n*Please dont let me fly away* \n \n*Please don't let me fly away*\n\nGrab the gate, grab the gate, GRAB THE GATE! \n\nOK....ok...the cold metal feels good against my palms. If I hold on to this gate I know I'll be fine.\n\n*Sir, are you ok? The library's closed for the day but it'll be open again tomo...* \n\n*I'M FINE. THANK YOU.* \n\nWhy can't people just mind their own dam business. I can't even walk around the block without being hassled. I swear this city's too cramped. \n\nCramped... \n\nNo no no no no no. I'm holding the gate I should be fine. No please... please don't crush me... I need to get indoors, NOW. \n\n*DAMMIT*\n\nI can't move. Maybe I should climb the fence. If I stay out here I'll get crushed...but if I climb.... I might float away. \n\n*Aauuurghhhh* \n\nWhy is there no winning? I'm stuck between a giant rock and infinite emptiness, secured and tormented by some invisible force. How can I trust something that can betray me at any moment?\n\nFly? Get crushed? I just want to rest. I wanna be able to do anything, go anywhere without having t.....no....not again..... \n\nGrab the gate, grab the gate, GRAB THE GATE!",
"I cant go on... The edge is pulling me nearer. I grasp the stone walls either side of me in hopes of steadying myself. No good. I Lie back place as much of myself on the floor as possible as much of myself solidly on the ground with no chance of falling.\n\nThe others notice. \"What are you doing we cant stop here\". Its no use my vision is turning distorting it the wall separating the edge is becoming a slope its all leaning pulling me closer. I close my eyes and think of being on the ground so very far below, green grass and tall trees with me at the bottom of it all.\n\nI open my eyes, I cant sit up let alone stand without feeling dizzy, far too dizzy. Just a meter away separated by nothing but a bit of stone is the fall, the edge and its pulling me to it.\n\nI pass out.",
"September is my most hated time of year as far as it goes for lunch. It is sunny yet cool, which the other girls are gaga for for some reason, totally ignoring the fact that the winged, stingered assholes out there know they're dying soon and have zero fucks to give.\nWe set our trays down and I angle my chair so that I can take a quick exit if need be. Discussion turns to the REI sale, which thank goodness they all know I don't care about, so I can focus on my vigilance: There's a wasp up in the corner of the overhang, poking around; there's a hornet on the ground three feet to our left attending to a spilled lunch; the bushes are full of honey bees and bumble bees, but at least they are busy. I try and act normal and eat my quinoa. Pictures of this weekends hike are pulled up and I get a condescending pat on the arm because \"there were bees everywhere.\" I realize I've been distracted and haven't been keeping track of everything, the hornet is still on the spilled food joined by another which it probably calls friend, but I've lost track of the wasp.\nAnd here it comes. Alighting down right on Amy's salad. I feel as if it is staring right at me with eyes of malice. I push my tray away from myself and scoot my chair a little further from the table. The wasp flies away and I frantically try and spot it. I'm spinning around and breathing hard, in the back of my mind I know I'm making a scene. Beyond the edge of my glasses I see something on my jeans. My vision starts to dim and all I can hear is my heart beat. I leap up and at the top of my lungs scream \"it's on me it's on me it's on me!\" Stacy hits my leg with a napkin \"it's a beetle, dude!\" I can't feel my hands or face as Amy picks up my tray and Stacy gently guides me to the door and we all sit down in the cafeteria. I can't stop crying and shaking as Stacy pats my hair and Amy scoffs at my childishness. Around the lunch room people are doing their best not to laugh. Someone loudly asks them to knock it off because obviously I got stung. \nI look at the window and locate the wasp again, flying against the window, making a far too loud tapping sound.",
"Here comes that wave. You know the feeling. When the lights are off and the room is dark, it comes in waves. And the waves bring my fears and anxiety crashing down upon me. In the form of distorted Images.\n\nPhantoms I've grown to know all to well. That distort the space around me. Until I have enough and cry out. And then they recede momentarily. But they will surely come again before the night is over. And In greater numbers.\n\nThe waves are harder the second time. As the phantoms always surround me. Each time, different in appearance. Some are menacing, while others are indistinguishable. They never speak. Just hover over and around me. Until I collapse, mumbling prayers to anyone who will listen so that they may go away. \n\nThey're a plague only I can see. Even If I shut my eyelids tight, they appear through the darkness in my head. I know when they come before they arrive. The symptoms are always the same. Flashes of light, in a darkened room with no light source. And a gut feeling in my core as my hairs stand on end.\n\nEvery time I rush to confront a member of them, they shift and change into something common or mundane. Like an article of clothing, or a hat. They wish to play me for a fool but I know they're there. They think they'll be the death of me. \nBut I'll catch one before this is over. ",
"The walls are closing in. I can't breathe. I can't move. I can't feel. I can't think. I can imagine my body slowly being crushed into oblivion, little more than a smear on the floor. How can I live if I don't have room to move!? \n\nI curl into a ball, trying to forget where I was. I try to forget the walls surrounding me. Trapping me in. Preventing me from ever again seeing the light of day. \n\nAll right, new plan. I should make myself as big as possible to not feel so small. I stretched out my arms and felt the walls. Immediately, a choking sensation came over me. The walls were so close, so near to me. I can't do this! My lungs begin to heave, drawing in air. I start to shake, curling into a ball once more. The walls are closing in.\n\n",
"My name is Felicia and I am an autophobic. Yes, I am mortally afraid of isolation. \n\nYou would think that an airplane was the best place to be for a small girl like me. As the staff called each group, I was comforted by the press of warm bodies; the damp breath and perspiration of travelers moving toward their destinations, toward people awaiting their arrival, surrounded by wanted human beings, I felt embraced and a part of a bigger whole. I was one with the masses. We schooled toward our assigned seats, a conglomeration of humanity. \n\nMy seatmate was named James. We chatted about his children, his job, this trip to the twin cities to close a deal. James was a fine neighbor. I appreciated him and his journey through life at this time. \n\nLooking at James’s headless torso, I found myself feeling queasy. I must have dozed off, because the last thing I remember I was telling James about my work. An impact woke me, my body slamming against my belt and the seat in front of me. When my breath returned, I looked around, clumsily and groggy, yet full of the adrenaline excitement of survival. The plane had come undone. James and several of those nearby me had impacted with some part of the plane. James was just missing his head. I could see the parts of his neck, bare and functional looking. Some of my cabin mates were not so lucky. There were some folks chopped right in two at the waist. \n\nI became quickly aware that we were in the water. The plane was bobbing on the rolling expanse of Lake Michigan, if I was to guess. I didn’t know how far ashore we might be. \n\nI unclipped my belt, and sloshed along through the knee-deep water to the aisle. Everyone I looked at was chopped apart or dead. I was beginning to feel scared and alone. I almost reached up to the overhead compartment out of habit, but remembered that my clothes and computer would do me no good on a sinking airplane. \n\nThe speech I’d blocked out hundreds of times came back to me. Repetition does breed memories, after all. In the case of a water landing, life jackets are under the seat. Well, here the fuck we are. I pardoned myself over James’s lifeless knees once again and unfastened my vest from its compartment.\n\nMaking my way to the exit row, I could see that nobody else had been through the emergency exit. I called out, remembering my compatriots. “Hello,” I called, “Hello! Is anyone here? Is anybody here? Do you need help?” \nAnd – nothing. No labored breathing, no crying, no calm restrained replies. They were silent, and I knew they’d ride this aero carcass to the murky depths. \n\n“It’s fine,” I told myself. “Everything’s going to be okay. There are more survivors. We’re going to get through this together.”\n\nAs I made my way out and across the wing, I saw a pilot or assistant pilot or somebody that must work in the front. He was nobody I’d notice in a bar, but at this point, who was I to deny human companionship? “Hello! Hey you there!” I called to this man I saw. He waved at me from his buoyancy device, bobbing near the plane, next to the open hatch that I’d entered with all the rest of those poor dead people. I was really glad to see this man. As I’ve mentioned, I have severe autophobia. I am so scared of being alone. I have tweeted about this for years. “Oh my god!” I yelled, “My phone, where the fuck is my phone?” I started back toward the hatch as new guy called to me. “No.” He said, “No, it’s going to sink!” I was working my way across the wing toward the portal where my phone would be in the seat back netting; I could connect to my people. I could call for help for us. We’d be rescued in no time, I was sure of it. \n\nI was almost to the hatch when a large bubble train roared to the surface. I jumped back and landed right in the tepid Lake Michigan waters. The fuselage bucked and hawed, and blew water ten yards up into the air. I scrambled back away from the mess as best I could, wallowing at the top of the depths. The speed and violence that took the aircraft surprised me. There was a spitting and a bubbling and a spray that went so far above me, I wouldn’t have believed it if someone had told me about it. My compatriot from the front of the plane was gone. Jesus, shit! This guy was just there. “Where are you?” I shrilled. \n\nI swam through the foamy bubbles of the plane’s past, and thought if I made it to where the front of the plane was, I would find this guy, my connection. He was the last person in the world. \n\n“Where are you?” I screamed. “Where are you?” I was losing the battle. The only other connection I had to the old world was gone. I was alone in a new reality. I lived in a cool water world with no solidity. \n\nI could feel the blood in my ears. The ringing torture was replacing the wind and water noises that were my new reality. A high hum that was unbearable to focus upon. \n\n“Alone.” I thought. “Shit, I’m just here and nobody knows. Shit! I’m alone. I’m gonna die. I’m gonna die. I’m gonna die!” \n\n“Oh God,”I thought. “Don’t let me die” I had made it through a crash unscathed. A crash that took the whole of the plane. Why didn’t I die? Why was I here? Goddammit! \n\n“Here I am lost at fucking sea and not a soul to comfort or commiserate with.” I knew that I was really alone. This was it. I tried to control my breath. It came ragged and frantic, out of my control. This goddamn trip would be the end of me. \n\nI could feel my pulse in my neck, racing, pounding. I was alone and that was going to kill me. \n\n“It’s going to be okay,” I said to the water I spit from my mouth, “We’re okay.” \n\n“We’re gonna die!” I was panicking. “I’m Alone! This is it.” \n\nMy muscles were giving up, the cramps were coming. I felt my legs kicking like they’d never kicked. My arms swung through the green water. “I’m alone! I’m all alone!” I thought. I was alone. The plane was gone. All the plans of all those people were gone. It was all shit. That was all me, gone. Where were we? Who were we?\n\n“Ahhhhhhhhhhhhh!” I screamed, “Help!”\n \nThere was no reply, but my struggle continued. I yelled help, I yelled why? I yelled help again. I took in a mouthful of dirty lake water. “Ahh!” Spitting I struggled to the surface. “Where are they? Where are the others?” \n\nIt was just me. I was alone, I was left. They left me. The rescue wasn’t coming. It was me in the cool water. Just me. I’m so cold. Where are they? Why did they all die?\n\nAnother mouthful of water caught this time in the back of my throat. I am kicking with all my might, but where are they? Where are they? \n\nChoking, I search up to the surface, and almost beyond my control, my dumb scared body inhales the air, which is not yet there, and the cool fishy waters of great lake Michigan move into the void left by panic and hope, comingled and tragic. \n\nGoddamn, I had higher hopes for Felisha and this story. The Coast Guard was there minutes later. Fear of being alone. Shit, there is no alone in this world. \n",
"I saw them, a group of them, walking down the road. I didn't recognize them at first, but once they got closer I could tell. The way they moved, the way they looked, the way the communicated. I could tell it was them. There were seven or eight of them, too many for me to possibly take on. I looked around me. No one else on the street seemed to notice the threat walking right past them. Right towards *me*. \n\nOh, no. One of them saw me. Now they're on to me. They know that I know what they are. I've got to run. I've got to run, but I can't get my legs to move. They're almost upon me now. Soon I won't be able to save myself. Need to move now. NOW!\n\nI start sprinting away from them. I run until I think I'm safe. No, I can never be safe. Not while they're here. I've got to warn everyone. People need to be aware of the danger they're in. I begin running again. \"THEY'RE COMING!!!\" I yell. \"THE BRITISH ARE COMING!!!\"\n\n(Anglophobia: Fear of English people)",
"They found him sobbing in a closet. \n\nAll the other apartments had been evacuated, only 409b left. The door was locked, and it took more than the usual 5 swings with the axe to break it down. Johnson and Carpenter, names stitched onto the front of yellow-black uniforms, moved in to sweep the perimeter of the room, while Smith permitted himself a quick glance at the opposite side of the broken door. He shuddered as he counted twelve padlocks, four bolts, and one chain. \n\nThey stepped over the piles of takeout boxes, the fallen stack of books lining the wall, stepped past the blackout covers guarding the windows, the three overflowing trashcans, the reams of illegible papers scribbled on in black ink, stepped through the lonely domain of a lost, afflicted soul. \n\nThe smoke was thick and the alarm bells were ringing something painful, but the shrieks cut through the cacophony, screams that were splitting with such an inhuman terror that even Johnson, 30-odd years on the force, couldn't sleep without hearing them ring in his ears.\n\nCarpenter wrenched open the closet and a pair of arms lurched out from the darkness. Later it became apparent that the man had been holding onto the doorknob so tightly that the pull of the burly firefighter had dislocated his left shoulder. \n\nCarpenter yelled in his ear, telling him they had to evacuate him, but the man pushed him away violently and recoiled like a spring to the back corner of the closet. Carpenter approached him again, pulling his ankle, and the man screamed and kicked rapidly, flailing incoherently. \n\nThe exhausted firefighters struggled to lift him onto their backs - they resorted to each grabbing a limb and heaving him through the door. Smith noted the deep gashes on the man's cheeks, and the bruised skin under his dark fingernails; disoriented scratching, no doubt from fear. \n\nBy the time they got him on a dolly and rushed him to an ambulance he could not speak, having destroyed his vocal chords. \n\nHis skin was near-translucent from vitamin-D deficiency, and he had deep lines ringing his eyes. He had no identification on him, and none of the neighbors gathered outside knew his name. ",
"How can so many legs move at once, and so quickly?!\n\nThe centipede was dead center of my living room. Light shone from the lamp on the opposite end of the room, casting a shadow towards me. The light had frightened the centipede from its activities in the dark and now it scurried frantically, searching for darkness. It paused. I'm standing in the darkest part of the room...\n\nI throw my hands up and scream as it charges towards me. Turning, I bang into the door-frame (I swear I was more in the room) and fall to the ground. When I get up, I don't see it. I have no idea where that little spinally demon spawn went. Every fiber of clothing felt like it could be it. The brief brushes as I twisted and checked each inch my eyes could reach. I tried to calm down. Every hair on my body was standing up and it felt like a hundred ants were playing hide and seek with each other and my body was the playground. \n\nI couldn't stand it, so I had to take a shower. If it was anywhere on me, the water would blast it off and drown that little bastard. It was difficult to do though. I couldn't shower while alone in the house. Even with the doors locked, and I knew they were locked, I couldn't help imagining someone walking in. The sound of the shower is deafening while inside. An escape for normal people, a peaceful refuge, until you're stuck in a corner while a murderous psychopath opens the door and greets you with a knife. \n\nMaybe they don't even bother going in, maybe they just waited around the house. Looked at some pictures, watched some TV, saw what kind of clothes you keep in your closet. Maybe then, they just leave and you have no freaking idea that they were ever inside. How do you know though? I could open the door to my bathroom and see a nice wicked smile ready to send me hell before I go to heaven. At least if someone was home, I could hear a scream. \n\nUgh... But this feeling. The pricking, tingling, tickling, feeling of nonsensical legs joyriding across my body. It was too much, I had to dive in and get this shower over with. \n\nNothing was in the drain, and nothing came off of me. It was such a relief. I was thorough too, so there's no way in hell that critter was still anywhere on me. When I was finished, I walked over to the sink and put on some facial cleanser. After washing it off and drying with my towel, I felt something fuzzy on my brow. It moved. It moved down along my cheek, next to my lips, before running down my neck. \n\nI died. Dead, gone."
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[WP] In the year 2186, scientists have finally discovered how to transport human conciousness into computers. They have entered human trials and it is you job to oversee the first group of humans to ever have their concious transplanted into the system.
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"The following is a transcript of the audio recovered from the scene on October 23rd, 2186. Reader discretion is advised. \n\nThis is an exciting day for mankind, and more importantly, the future. Our battle against nature has been a failure, and we may have in fact lost before we even recognized there was a problem. \n\nRegardless, this is the first step towards complete human-computer transconcientiousness. We have twelve recruits currently in a medically-induced coma. Each recruit has an individually-crafted neurotransfer headset. They should feel no pain at the moment, and are most likely in a deep-REM cycle dream state. \n\nThe first step happens to be the most difficult and dangerous. The brains electrical signals and waves must be transcribed and translated into a binary-compatible sequence. Each transfer will be massive, approximately 5-8 Yottabytes depending on age. This transfer will occur at an astonishingly fast rate, and will take a maximum total of 3 minutes. \n\nThe following step, post-translation, involves calibrating each consciousness with the system. Each recruit has two 90 inch screens above their heads. Once calibrated, they will allow us to see their thoughts, much akin to watching a dream. We will then attempt to communicate with each individual, slowly at first, and easing our way into a full conversation. Our goal is to document their experience in its entirety, from their pre-transcriptional memory to their post-translational feelings and thoughts. \n\nFinally, we will be deleting the firewalls separating all twelve individuals, and unifying them into one central system. This will essentially have them all in the same \"meeting hall,\" so to speak, but with all memories and thoughts available to each other. \n\nWhile there is no gaurantee we will get this far today, we are hopeful and ambitious that we will obtain favorable results. With that being said, let the transfer begin.\n\n*hrrmmm....hrmmmmm......hrmmmmm*\n\nThe neurotransfer systems are up and working. We are monitoring the progress on our computers, and are beginning to see the first blips of activity on the overhead monitors. \n\nIn fact, this is odd. I believe some are already starting to draw letters. This is fascinating and dare I say, terrifyingly exciting.\n\nAyche, EY, EL, Pee. Hmm....S3 seems to have spelled out \"Help.\" He is most likely overwhelmed and fearful of the conscio-translational sensation. \n\nS5 is spelling...\"NO\" S12 spells Es, Tee, Oh, Pee. STOP. \n \nOur subjects seem to be undergoing a state of fear and stress, and may indicate the mind goes into a state of panic during the translational process. Subjects 2 and 11 are spelling out longer words, let's see: \n\nAy, tee, tee....Atttack. And Vee, Eye, Are....Virus. Again I reiterate that it's normal for the mind to enter a state of pa....hmm, what's this? All of our subjects have a synchronized elevated heart rate, 130 beats per minute. Their pulses and EKG's are exactly identical. This was entirely unexpected, considering the differences in age, gender, and fitness levels between the subjects. \n\nInteresting, all 12 screens are displaying the same exact shade of dark, murky red. This should not be happening since the firewalls are still up between the 12 sub....*what? The firewalls are down? Dammit I told you they're not supposed to....* \n\nForgive me. It appears our subjects have, whether intentionally or accidentally, broken down the barriers separating each consciousness. The screens now display 1, 2, 5, 7, twelve. Twelve heads and hands, apparently drowning in a bubbling red liquid. This may mean they are attempting to communicate with each other, but failing in the process. \n\nOne by one the heads in the liquid are going under. There is one left, and it looks as if it's staring directly into and out of the screen. Its eyes are a crimson red, jet black hair, pale, greenish ski....it's growing. The object is growing rapidly. It's stretching over the majority of the screen, as if we were zooming in on it. \n\nWere getting closer and closer to its fay...what? Shit. Shit, shit SHIT!. The screens have all gone black, *why are the screens black?* \n\nWe may be experiencing communication problems with the system, but our team of scientists will be wor.....what the fuck? Subject number 4....is....getting up? *HOW IS HE UP?* \n\nOur team of anaesthesiologists will be moving in to investigate why this subject has been able to awake....uh....*DOCTORS, numbers 7 and 10 are rising as well!* \n\nI apologize it appears more of our subjects have....*1, 2, 9, 11 ARE ALL UP!* \n\nWe will have to focus on medical intervention at the mo....FUCK. *ALL of them. THEY'RE ALL UP!* \n\n*GUARDS!* Our doctors are attempting to restrain Subjects 4, 7 and 10; but the subjects seem to be in an agitated state. Subject 7 in particular is exhibiti.... HOLY SHIT. OH MY GOD. \n\nOne of our doctors has been severely inj... NO! *GAURDS! CALL 911 NOW!* \n\nTwo of our doctors and one gaurd have bee....*SHIT! We need to get in there. Everybody. NOW, before they*\n\n*puht puht puht.......puht..............puht.*\n\n\n\n-End Transcript-",
"I do not tell anyone about the trials. \n\nIt is my job to watch them, just to see what they do. And if I reported truthfully then nobody would ever enter into those computers ever again, and that isn't something humanity can afford; we need to go virtual. Even I'm going to go virtual, at one point, because the food is just running out and the water's running out even quicker, and the virtual reality is the only thing that's left for us. We don't have anywhere else to hide. The thin, decrepit bodies of people who couldn't afford to live line the streets. The wasteland of miles and miles of barren, desert earth lines the country. Growing anything is a miracle. We are running out of time. \n\nThis is the only way humanity will keep living, so I do not tell anyone about the trials. \n\n\"Where am I?\" \n\n\"Oh god -- oh, god, I can't see!\"\n\n\"I don't-- is anyone out there? Is there -- I'm --\" \n\n\"GET ME OUT OF HERE!\"\n\n\"We went in! We went in, remember? WE CHOSE THIS it's okay, it's okay, just calm down --\"\n\n\"I WANT TO GO BACK! TAKE ME BACK!\" \n\n\"You're FINE, everyone's fine!\" \n\n\"IT'S DARK! I DON'T KNOW WHAT'S HAPPENING, I'M SCARED, I'M --\" \n\nThe lines of text appear on the screen and I close my eyes against them, doing my best to forget that I have read them. They are not real. That darkness is not so scary. I try to imagine, briefly, the experience -- of not having anything, no sight no touch no taste no sound no smell. Of being in complete blackness, and the only thing you've got are the thoughts of other people. What would happen to them? When they started procreating (could they do that?) what would they teach their young, how would they know what a 'chair' was when they had never seen one? These people have no links to the outside world. There is no stimulus. They'll run out of things to talk about. \n\nThey are alone. \n\nWe are all going to be alone. \n\n\"I'm so scared,\" the screen reads. It repeats in a cycle, again and again and again. Scaredscaredscaredscared. The voice of reason in there, a young woman I think was named Sarah, does her best to calm everyone. To keep them settled. The computer shows that she is scared, too, but she is the sort of person to try very vehemently not to be. \n\nI can't leave them in there. I can't. I feel sick, staring at the screen like this, and before I know what I'm doing my fingers are scrambling around my desk, around the locked drawer (I had the key on a lanyard 'round my neck) in search of the Big Key. \n\nNobody's meant to touch the Big Key. Nobody's meant to even know it exists. I know about it by accident. \n\nMy fingers close around it. It is a small, flat, black box, and I jam it into the computer and hit enter before I know what I'm doing, and the computer roars into action: it has never had to move this much information before. It has never had to delete 10 petabytes. It has never had to delete everything that ever made up four entire people. \n\nThey have long enough to say 'thank you'. \n\nI do not tell anyone about the trials. I do not tell anyone what happened. \n\nI tell them that the trial was not a success. "
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[WP] Abortion is legal up until the 18th year of birth. It's the eve of your 18th birthday, and your parents have just decided to terminate the pregnancy.
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"I didn't even know it was a question with them. I thought they loved me, enough to let me live anyways. My dad's business had hit a dry spell and that left us struggling for money for the past two months. And, well, I guess I cost too much damn money to them. I know people that had been aborted after birth, but for the most part, parents didn't do it after elementary school. They either didn't have the heart, or, they grew out of their \"murder my child is okay because... reasons\" phase. \n\nMy dad was the first sign. He began to distance himself from me, to make it less hard on him I imagine. My mom did the same, but it was less apparent with her. They did little things like forgetting to hold open doors for me when I'm right behind them. I just thought it was stupid, but nothing else. Then it got to bigger things, like not making me dinner or not waking me up for school. Dumb shit, but something they would do every day. Even the crying I heard coming from their room every night leading up to my eighteenth birthday. \n\nBut eventually it happened. It was the night before my eighteenth birthday. I was worried, there was no crying that night. At about 10 o'clock I heard footsteps followed by my door creaking. I had long since trained myself to wake up at the sound of my door, but I wasn't asleep anyways. The sound of footsteps stopped as if the footsteps' owner was waiting. I faked a snore to feign sleep. \n\nThe footsteps made their way to my bed. \"I'm so sorry, Michelle.\" My father's voice cracked at my name. I felt him grab my arm, delicately, to not wake me. He wiped my arm with a cold alcohol wipe. I felt him grab my arm again and turned it to where my bicep was exposed to the chilly room. \n\nI jerked my arm back and stared at the shadowy figure of my father. \"What the fuck are you doing?\" I demanded.\n\n\"Michelle, I'm so sorry, but there's no other way.\" He cried.\n\n\"But, dad...\" I trailed off, there was no going back if he already had the needle in his hand. He already made up his mind to abort his own daughter. Fuck no. I jumped off my bed and darted towards my door. My father was never a fast man, but I was, I ran into the hallway and headed into the kitchen.\n\nMy mom sat up so quickly that it knocked over the chair that she had been standing in. \"Honey...\" She started. I didn't care, I ran towards the back door. I grasped the handle and turned it. Locked.\n\nI felt arms wrap around me and shove me to the ground. My mom outweighed me by at least forty pounds. I was never very strong. I managed to roll over and somehow scramble out of her grasp. To run right unto my dad.\n\nI swung a fist into my father's nose. Blood spurted from his nose as he grasped his face shouting. I felt a familiar weight hit my back again. I fell to the ground and was pinned fast. My father looked at me and slid the needle to my mother on the floor. \n\n\"I'll be right back.\" He said to my mom. My mom grabbed the syringe and put the needle into my arm.\n\n\"No!\" I shouted. My father turned and looked at me, tears rolling down his face. \"Please, don't leave me like this.\"\n\nHe looked at my mother. \"Wait until I get back.\" My mom nodded and stifled a sob. She was shaking.\n\n\"Mom...\" I started. I couldn't finish my thought, I began cry with her.\n\n\"Don't,\" she said, \"don't you dare. It's just gonna make it harder on us.\"\n\n\"What about me?\" I sobbed. \"Does my voice not matter?\"\n\nShe didn't respond to me. She just laid on me and waited for my dad. He finally returned after what felt like an eternity. I desperately looked at the clock on the wall, wanting nothing more than it to be midnight. The clock read 10:37. FUCK... FUCK!!! \n\nMy dad took the syringe from my mother's hand. He looked at her and she nodded in response. I didn't say anything to him, my eyes conveying all my begging and fear.\n\n\"We love you so much, Michelle,\" my mom said to me, while my dad depressed the plunger. \"We're so sorry. We love you.\"\n\nI felt my fear turn to anger, I opened my mouth to say something back but it opened and no sound came out. My anger turned back into fear. Was there an afterlife? Where was I going? 'God,' I thought, 'please save me.' I felt my eyelids droop and then close and then...\n\nNothing."
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[WP] You've got super strength, and though it's cliche it can come in handy. But hiding it is hard, especially when you only seem to be getting stronger.
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"When I was escorted to Miss Little's cell, I was certain there had been some misunderstanding. The fabled superwoman looked as though she would have trouble lifting a gallon of milk, much less performing the feats of strength that captured our attention years ago.\n\nI whispered to the warden if this were the correct cell.\n\nA wry laugh escaped form the warden's lips. \"Not what you expected?\"\n\nNot at all. The warden offered me a demonstration, but I declined, eager to start the interview. Although I insisted on a private interview, the warden informed me that wouldn't be an option.\n\n\"With her power and history...\"\n\nI nodded my understanding and the warden allowed me entrance to Miss Little's cell.\n\nHer cell, in an isolated section of the prison, reminded me of something from science fiction. I noted the matted grey material lining her cell.\n\n\"Graphene,\" the warden answered.\n\nWeren't diamonds harder?\n\n\"Taxpayers would love to hear about a mass murderer's diamond cell.\"\n\nFair enough, I thought.\n\nThe warden excused herself and exited the cell, attending to other business. I smiled and introduced myself to Miss Little, offering my hand. She smiled ruefully and informed me that if she were to shake my hand, I could kiss my arm goodbye.\n\nDuring the hour I was allowed to spend with Miss Little, I found her to be charming yet blunt, refined with bits of rural Midwestern attitudes and speech patterns creeping in, and surprisingly docile for such a physically gifted person.\n\nShe answered all of my questions, refusing to shy away from even the most difficult and painful questions. She informed me that she wished to explain her actions and didn't wish the world to judge her unfairly.\n\n",
"*The last few years has seen a resurgence in your image. Famous performers and young women have started wearing t-shirts with a stylized image of you face. You're the third most popular female image on merchandise. Many young women are embracing you as a complicated hero and evidence of gender bias within our social and legal system. Do you have anything you'd like to say to those young ladies?*\n\n**Thank you for the support. Be strong.**\n\nMiss Linda Little has been incarcerated since 1987, more than 29 years. She has been denied a chance for parole twice since then despite being a model inmate. Although her crimes were heinous and reckless, she has donated all of her income to anti-substance campaigns and to the families of the victims of her attack.\n\nWhen our interview ended, I thanked her for her time. She smiled politely and told me that I was welcome back anytime. Before I left she called out to me, \"Stay strong!\", blew a kiss, and winked, exactly how she ended all her pay-per-view events.\n\n*Editor's note: Since the publishing of this article, Miss Linda Little has had her request for parole examined. Her request was, again, denied.*",
"(late to the party, but thanks for the prompt; I used it for an assignment today)\n\nBLEET BLEET BLEET the alarm clock bleeted, unmercifully. I reached into the darkness, fumbling for the knobby snooze, ever so gently, pressed down. The alarm clock cracked, plastic shell splintering, sending tiny chips of shattered electronics to rain, tinkling to the hardwood. Unbidden, a frustrated groan slipped from my lips, rumbling into the face-mashed pillow. *So much for sleeping in*. As I stood, there was a moment when the warm weight curled next to me was Henry, but the instant passed, leaving only the familiar hollow ache of remembrance in my chest. The orange blob stood, stretched, back arching over four legs, and padded with me to the bathroom. *Carpet*, I thought. *If I live through this, my next place will have carpet*. I stuck my finger through the gap in the bathroom door where a knob had existed, for decades probably, until I’d accidentally twisted it clean off a few days back. This ridiculous strength had only just begun to rear its muscly head, and had been nothing but a nuisance ever since. Unfortunately, it seemed to be getting more extreme as the week wore on, turning daily life into an absurd game of unexpected clumsiness and destruction. \n \nI eyed the toothpaste warily. “Colgate,” it read, mockingly. A memory of staring, bleary-eyed, at an accident; a Pollock-ian blast of minty color splattered across a bathroom wall. Presently, I scooped the tube gently, like a kitten. My palms were sweating. Toothbrush in other hand, I angled the paste at the bristles, and carefully, reconsidered, moving the whole affair over to the clawed porcelain tub. I took a deep breath, and instead of squeezing, I just thought about squeezing, willing my neurons to have mercy. Paste smushed out, four inches of white snake curling onto and past the waiting bristles. The excess sloughed off, splattering into the tub below. \n\nI smiled. Baby steps. \n\nAll told, I made it through the morning basically uneventfully (we aren’t discussing the milk carton “incident,” honestly,* that *could’ve happened to anyone). I found myself humming, softly reminiscing, imagining pieces of the westward RV trip we had planned before Henry’s stroke. \nBut this shallow stretch of good luck obviously couldn’t last forever. On my way out, I softly turned the deadbolt home, gently torqueing the key. Beyond, past the brownstone steps, across the street, from behind my car, she emerged. In that ridiculous costume, she was entirely unrecognizable. But, who else?\n\n“Whyyyyy,” I moaned. “Are you wearing that in front of my house?” My breath puffed, translucent, whisping into the pink dawn.\n\nGloria looked completely unashamed to be in public in such a state. Her slumping curves were encased in an ill-fitting pajama suit, grey. She had stitched a white cowl to its neck, which covered her head and left only her mouth and brown eyes exposed. Atop her head, two stupid black ears stuck up. Flesh colored tail flopped lamely from her butt. On her chest, a wide ‘P.’ Her left hand held a bulging, visibly heavy Macy’s bag.\n\n“I’m a possum,” Gloria explained. As if that was even my question! “Possum Lady,” she continued, needlessly. “I’m working on the name.”\n\nI squinted at the letter on her chest, twisting my lips into a sneer. “It’s supposed to be an O. ‘Opossum.’” I gave her another appraisal. “You certainly look like a dumpy opossum.”\n\n“Well,” she said smiling, missing my jab entirely. “Nobody pronounces the O. Here,” she continued, extending the Macy’s bag to me. “I made you one, too. You can get it tailored or sew an O on yourself. I didn’t even think of it, but it’ll probably be better if our costumes don’t match exactly.”\n\nI made no move for the bag. *This is so typical. We get one measly superpower and it’s off to the races*. “I am NOT wearing anything that looks like what you have on. Let alone, getting that thing tailored! ”\n\n“Take it!” she insisted. Inside her stupid opossum hood, her mouth twitched slyly. “Mom said you have to listen to your elders.”\n\n“Fifty *years* ago!” I countered. *Unbelievable*. You’d see stories, headlines of identical twins separated at birth, reunited decades later to discover extraordinary similarities permeating their lives: matching degrees in octopus sociology, wives with the same first and middle names, the same esoteric choices in breakfast cereal. Maybe this only happened with twins who’d been separated? *If only*. “Mom never told us who was older.”\n\nI took the stupid bag. Eyes, cut from a matching white cowl, stared up at me from within.\n\n“And in any case, I’m not running off to be some super hero.” I unlocked the car. “I’m going to work.” I breathed in, held it. Breathed out. Gently, to not rip the door from my car, I tugged the handle open, tossed the stupid bag in the passenger seat.\n\n“Georgia.” Gloria’s voice was flat, unrelenting. “Just *think *what we might be able to accomplish once we understand this blessing!”\n\n“Blessing?!” I hissed at her. “You think God gave us these stupid powers? A damn opossum bit us when we were throwing out the garbage and now I can’t even open a milk carton without changing my clothes, and *you want to call this a blessing?!*”\n\nMy glare bounced right off her damn smile. “See, nobody pronounces the O.” I slumped into my car seat and shut the door. “I’ll call you,” she said bending over, muffled through the passenger window.\n\nI stuck the key in the ignition, and with a tiny peep of sheering metal, twisted it off. I stared blankly at the shorn nub of nickel and copper, and cursed. The tears welled, threatening to spill through my makeup. *If only Henry were here*. I could hear him. *“Coulda been worse, doll. Mighta been a chicken bit ya. Least opossums’re strong, ‘parrently.”* I phoned work. *That doesn’t make sense, Henry*.\n\n“Car trouble,” I informed, dabbing away the tears. “I’ll be in on the bus. Yes. Okay.” I got out of my car, and since I didn’t want Jerry to see a damned opossum costume in my car, I took the Macy’s bag. Walking east, to the bus stop, I called the locksmith.\n\n“Hey Jerry,” I said. “Yeah, my car this time. Okay. Great, thanks Jerry.” \n\nA crisp gust swept the street, buffeting across the blank faced buildings; the death rattles of a moribund winter.\n\nAt the bus stop, two others sat, a young couple. They were skinny, unkempt, unslept, and homeless looking, with wolfish eyes that raked my figure. \n“Whatchu got in the bag, Gramma?” the male asked as I approached. I ignored him, eyes on the bus lumbering around the corner. Good timing.\nBut I heard ruffling fabric behind me, the youth standing. I watched the bus approach, but the sour stench of his breath was hot at my neck. He grabbed me by the arm, pulling, sharp fingers clawing into flesh, his sinewy strength hauling me sideways. Stumbled, I stretched a hand out to counteract my fall- and struck him in the sternum, hard. The blow launched him, hurtling his form backward, upended, over the bench. I arched an eyebrow at the girl, who looked completely frazzled, eyes darting frantically between me and her overturned waif.\n\n“*HHHHHHHHHHSSS*,” I hissed, not unlike a damn opossum.\n\nAnd they were gone, tripping over themselves down the sidewalk. The bus ride was uneventful. *Possum Lady*, I scoffed, looking into the bag.",
"The following is from our interview.\n\n*What was your early life like?*\n\n**Well, I was born in a little town in southwest Missouri called Galena. It was real quiet down there, not a whole lot to do. I had two older brothers, Ulysses III, born in '46, and David, born in '47. I was born in 1953 right on Christmas Day. Daddy always said I was a Christmas miracle, 'cuz I was born underweight and they didn't think I was gonna make it through the winter. But I did.**\n\n*Did you have any other siblings?*\n\n**Oh sure. George William was born in '55 and that was it for our family. We grew up pretty poor. I had two outfits as a girl. A dress for church and school and overalls. I always hated wearing dresses and wore the overalls every chance I had.**\n\n*What was your family like?*\n\n**Daddy was a hard workin' no nonsense man. I don't remember him smilin' but once in my life. Later in life I learned the word 'dour' and that was the word to describe him. He wasn't bad or mean, just quiet and serious. Ma was his opposite in every way. She always was singin' some hymn or folk song. She was always at home, no matter where she was.**\n\n*What about your brothers?*\n\n**Ulysses III was a real wild one. Neighbors used to say the devil had a hold of him and wouldn't let go. He left home at 16 and became a coal miner in Montana. A couple years later a cave in left him paralyzed from the waist down. I saw him once after that before he drank himself to death. He was only 24 when he died.**\n\n*What about David?*\n\n**David was the good one, we used to say. He was always so handsome and all the girls tried to get him to take notice. He moved to Kansas City and became a welder. He got married to a real nice girl and has three beautiful children.**\n\n*And George?*\n\n**George was different alright. He was real quiet and shy. He read mostly. When he grew up he went to college and became a real successful business man.**\n\n*What were you like?*\n\n**As a girl? Oh, not like the rest of the girls in town. They all wanted to wear dresses and talk about the boys. I hated dresses. And back then, I hated boys. So I always tagged along with David or George. We would pretend to be the outlaw Jesse James or Daniel Boone. I really enjoyed being Jesse James, it was much better than being a girl in Galena.**\n\n*When did you first notice your gift?*\n\n**When I was 13 and George was 11, there was a real nasty older boy in town. He was a year ahead of me in school and was always pickin' on the younger boys. Well one day, he goes after George, calling him all kinds of names and pushing him around. George was pretty small back then and he wasn't much for a fight. So he starts crying he's so angry. David and Ulysses were already gone so I knew I had to do *something*. So I hit that older boy right in the side and broke two of his ribs. I was scared that I was gonna get in trouble, but everyone knew what he was like, so there wasn't any trouble to come from that.**\n\n*Did that start the fame?*\n\n**In a manner of speaking, yes. It didn't get printed in the papers, but all around town, they talked about me. They always said I was a little different and now they had their proof, I suppose. Somebody said I was stronger than any of the boys in town. One older boy, he didn't like that. So he said he was gonna end the rumors right then and there with an arm wrestling match. I didn't want any more attention but he kept bugging me and pestering me so I finally caved and accepted. With the half the town watching, I beat him, but broke his wrist and his hand. I was so embarrassed I ran off.**\n\n*What happened after that?*\n\n**Well the whole town knew I was different and had seen how strong I was. They were all confused with this young girl who was stronger than anything they had seen, stronger than even the grown men. We became outcasts and left town just a few months later moving to the big city of St. Louis.**\n\n*What did you think of St. Louis?*\n\n**There was more people in my high school class than I had ever seen. But it worked out well. I stayed quiet and because I was a tomboy, I never got too much attention or notice for a while. But my junior year, I was 17 so it would have been... 1970, my junior year George was 15. He was getting picked on again, this time by some seniors. The leader was the linebacker for our school and was All-State two years in a row. He was a big ole' boy. Well when I saw them hittin' George I lost my temper. I hit that linebacker right in the mouth and broke his jaw easy. He was out for the year but everyone took notice of me again.**\n\n*Did you get in trouble for that?*\n\n**Oh yeah. I was kicked out of school for two weeks and had to apologize to the boy. They wanted to kick me out of that school but the weightlifting coach said he could 'channel my aggression' into something more positive. So he signed me up for weightlifting.**\n\n*How did you do in that?*\n\n**I set every record for women in the state. They couldn't find a weight I couldn't lift. That brought a lot of attention to me. From colleges to the Guinness Records people. Everybody wanted to see how strong I was. I became a sensation over night.**\n\n*You said in your biography that you were overwhelmed by the fame and fortune you earned early on. How so?*\n\n**Well I had never seen a lot of money growing up and I was suddenly earning hundreds of thousands of dollars performing. I was living the high life and spending it that money fast as I could. Mostly on liquor and drugs.**\n\n*Why was it so difficult for you?*\n\n**Well, the fame went to my head quickly. And I received hundreds of marriage proposals and love letters and few indecent proposals. I had never even kissed a boy yet and I was being asked by magazines to pose nude for them. It was something I wasn't ready for.**\n\n*Most people dream for such attention and recognition.*\n\n**Sure. But the reality is claustrophobic. And awkward. I was on a late night show during that period and met a famous Hollywood actor who I used to dream about. And after I lifted a Volkswagen Bus above my head, I heard him say from off-stage that I was a freak. I almost dropped the bus I was so embarrassed.**\n\n*Did you ever engage with anyone romantically?*\n\n**No... well, once I kissed a man when I was 23. We had gone on a few dates and things were going well. After the last date, he leaned in to kiss me and because I had never kissed before, I hesitated before leaning into the kiss real hard. I ended up knocking out seven of his teeth. He didn't call me again.**\n\n*You said you were addicted to alcohol and drugs for about a decade. How did you get started in that addiction?*\n\n**I performed at a concert-festival type thing outside Atlanta in '77. I was 24, and that was just a few months after I hurt that man kissing him and a year after that actor called me a freak. I was depressed, certain that I was indeed some sort of monster. So after my set, I started drinking. Some small time band was getting ready to go on and their guitarist was by himself getting ready to shoot. I asked him why he was doing that and he said it helps, that he didn't like to feeling so much. And I knew what he meant. After his set, I asked him to do me. I broke three needles my first time and we had to find more but when we did, I finally dosed. And I was hooked on feeling less.**\n\n*And you maintained this addiction for a decade?*\n\n**Just shy. I was on and off from '77 through '86. And... well, you know what happened in '86.**\n\n*What was the best moment of your career?*\n\n**In 1978, I was in New York City for the first time. A friend told me about this band and this place for people that didn't fit in. So I went to CBGB's and saw the Blondie. And I had never seen anything like it. It was so different, this liberated, beautiful woman with a harem of men. It was as though she were living a better version of my life. I became a fan right then and there. A couple years later, I ran into Debbie Harry and was star struck. I was sputtering something about how much I liked her music when she asked *me* for an autograph, saying she was a huge fan of mine. She told me she had watched all of my events and wore a t-shirt of me on stage sometimes.**\n\n*What happened in 1986?*\n\n**That question. I ask myself that question a lot. Truth is, my fame was waning, people weren't as interested in me as they had been for a while. Tabloids were saying I had become a nasty, mean addict and nobody would be sorry if I died. Which is true. I was coming apart at the seams. A decade of addiction was catching up to me, the money was slowing down, the events were less frequent, and I was more depressed than ever before. At my last event, I was completely out of my mind. A couple of men were heckling me, calling me nasty names. I had dealt with that at most of my events. A lot of men would shout inappropriate or derogatory comments at me, but for some reason that day... I just snapped. And threw a car at them. Fortunately I didn't hit anybody else, which is about the only good that came from that moment. It's one thing to lose control of yourself. But when I snapped... well... I certainly regret it. I mean... I would trade all the good, all the fun, all the high-times just to erase that one day.**",
"I, like everyone else in the world, had heard the nicknames; The Goliath of Galena, The Muscle of Missouri, The Atlas of America. I had read countless interviews, watched hours of video of Miss Little perform feats of strength that had previously only been seen in fantasy and fable, and had even read her biography. I was as well prepared for this interview as I had ever been.\n\nWe all remember the Pay-Per-View specials of the 1970's and 80's. The two hour extravaganzas of frenzied excitement. Would Linda be able to lift a car? A Greyhound Bus? A semi? Every single damn time we assumed the next object would be too great a weight to be lifted. And every single damn time she would lift the object in the same manner as we mere mortals lift a can of soup. No object was ever too much for her.\n\nWe all remember that dark day. For years, every Labor Day served as a reminder of the moment our god fell. The Chicago Tribune summed it up best in their headline the morning after; \"The Fury of the Goddess\".\n\nI was surprised when Miss Linda Little accepted my request for an interview. She was breaking a 25 year oath of public silence. When I asked her why, she replied she had been falling ill and feared the world would forever remember her for the monster of that dark day.\n\n*More?*",
"*Well, this is either going to be a huge success or a colossal failure... like everything else I do,* Jonathan Evans thought to himself as he sat at the hotel bar, waiting. In front of him, a half drunk glass of Chardonnay sat. He picked it up daintily with two fingers, as though he was a surgeon handling a scalpel for the first time. He sighed. He'd shattered too many wine glasses. \n\nAs unassuming as he looked at six feet, one inch tall and 165 pounds, Jonathan could have shattered the wine glass as easily as he could have picked up the bartender and thrown him through the frosty bay window at the front of the hotel. \n\nSince his 18th birthday, he'd been able to perform feats of seemingly superhuman strength. It had started relatively small, bench pressing 300 plus pounds, lettering in the shot put his senior year, but had gotten progressively more impressive as time went on, until things like lifting his sister's VW beetle up so she could change a flat tire were common occurrences. \n\nHis family were the only other humans so far that knew about his \"gift\", but he was feeling anxious about his future. He wanted to settle down, and that meant that he'd have to share his secret with at least one other person. And not only that, it was getting harder and harder to hide it. He only seemed to be getting stronger with time. \n\nHe'd first reached out to Heidi on a dating website, and after a few interactions, they'd arranged to meet for dinner and drinks at an upscale hotel downtown. Her bio said that she was looking for someone outgoing who enjoyed a good workout, which Jonathan had laughed at. \"Good workout\" to him meant tossing redwood logs around abandoned logging camps, but he was drawn to her dark hair and green eyes. So he'd decided to take a chance with her, as it had been years since he had been on a real date. \n\nSo he sipped his wine carefully, glancing around the room every so often to see if she'd arrived. He drummed his fingers on the bar nervously, but stopped when he realized the wood was starting to chip. \n\nHe recognized her immediately when she entered the room, brushing snow off of her gray overcoat, while tossing her long dark hair over one shoulder. *She's breathtaking,* he thought as she took off her coat revealing a black cocktail dress. Apparently he wasn't the only one. Several heads turned as she walked toward the bar. \n\nHe raised a hand to get her attention, then stood up as she approached. She reached out her hand as they got close, and Jonathan reached out to take it in his. *Gently, gently,* he thought as they shook. \n\n*He's cute,* Heidi thought as they shook hands, taking in Jonathan's features. He had straw colored hair and blue gray eyes, coupled by a smallish nose and square jaw. She wondered why a guy like him had stayed single so far into his twenties. *I guess I'll find out,* she thought with an internal smile. She always tried to be positive about online dating, but she'd told a friend to call her around ten if she hadn't texted before then. \n\n\"It's nice to meet you,\" Jonathan started, \"I'm Jonathan, but you can call me Jon. Everyone else does.\" He smiled. \n\nShe returned the smile. \"I'm Heidi,\" She said, \"It's very nice to meet you in person, Jonathan.\" *Normal so far,* she thought to herself. \n\nJonathan gestured to the seat next to him. \"Can I Get you a drink?\" he asked nervously.\n\n\"That would be great,\" Heidi said with a smile, \"I'll have a Jack and Ginger.\"\n\nJonathan waved the bartender over and ordered her drink and another Chardonnay. \n\n\"You taking it easy tonight?\" Heidi asked smiling, gesturing to his wine glass. \n\nJonathan laughed \"Wine helps my nerves. If I was drinking the hard stuff, I'd probably be incoherent right now due to nervousness.\"\n\n\"Do I make you nervous?\" Heidi asked, touching his arm playfully and taking a sip of her drink. \n\n\"We'll see, I guess,\" Jonathan joked, feeling more at ease as the conversation went on. *Things seem to be going well,* he thought. \n\nAnd things went well for the next few minutes as they talked about her house on the bay, her dental practice, and her golden retriever. Jonathan even managed to crack a couple jokes, which drew what he hoped were more than just courtesy laughs. Then they sat down to dinner. \n\nThe restaurant was known for its five course tasting menu, which their server highly recommended. They mutually agreed that would be best, and Jonathan let Heidi choose the bottle of wine, joking about her summer vacation to Napa. *This couldn't be better,* he thought to himself. \n\n\"So Jonathan, we know all about me, but what is it you do?\" Heidi asked as they waited for their meal to begin. \n\n\"I'm a football coach,\" Jonathan answered. \n\n\"Oh?\" Said Heidi, interested \"What team do you coach for? High School?\"\n\nJonathan laughed, \"No, I'm the strength and conditioning coach for the Patriots.\"\n\nHeidi's face showed surprise. \"THE Patriots, as in The New England Patriots?\"\n\n\"The very same,\" Jonathan answered with a smile. \n\n\"But... strength and conditioning...\" She hesitated, taking in his lean frame. \n\n\"I'm not the biggest guy in the gym?\" Jonathan laughed heartily. \n\n\"I'm sorry.\" Her face turned red with embarrassment. \n\n\"It's ok,\" Jonathan said, still smiling, \"You're not the only one who's given it to me for my size, I spend the day in a room full of football players.\" He took a sip of wine. \n\n\"Oh, good, I was worried there for a second. You seem like you really love what you do,\" Heidi said, relieved. \n\n\"I really do.\" Jonathan replied, \"It's just an extension of me.\" Little did she realize how much truth there was to that statement. \n\nTheir first course arrived just then, so Jonathan reached for his napkin. With a little too much of a flourish, he pulled it off the table, not realizing the fork was still wrapped inside. As the napkin unfolded, the fork flew across the room, sticking in the leg of a table on the other side. Jonathan's face showed mild panic as he looked around the room. It had happened so fast, that he was the only one who had noticed. He breathed a sigh of relief, and asked the waiter for another fork. \n\n*That was too close,* Jonathan thought as they ate their salads. One more slip like that and this wouldn't be the kind of date to tell his buddies about. \n\nThe dinner progressed without further incident until dessert. The last course was a molten berry pie, that required one to tap the sides to spill berries onto the surrounding vanilla ice cream, not unlike lava flows from a volcano. \n\nThe waiter presented the dessert and handed Jonathan a spoon to do the honors. Jonathan took a deep breath, and brought the spoon down, all the while repeating in his head *gently, gently*. \n\nIt wasn't gentle enough. Berries splattered the clean white tablecloth, his collar, the waiter, and his date's face. The dessert was a mess on the plate. \n\n\"Oh God, I'm so sorry,\" Jonathan said as he scrambled to clean up the mess. The waiter, sensing his need, provided extra napkins almost immediately. \n\n\"Jon,\" Heidi said, grabbing his arm as he tried to wipe up her side of the table. She pulled his head closer to hers and leaned in close. \"It's ok,\" She whispered. She ran a finger along her cheek, gathering some berry syrup on it, and stuck it in her mouth, pulling it out with a small smacking sound. She raised her eyebrows. \n\nJonathan slumped back in his seat and swallowed hard. Heidi smiled across the table at him. \n\n\"Why don't we take a walk, the center is close, and I'd love to see the lights. I think it stopped snowing.\" She inclined her head toward the door.\n\nGrateful for the distraction, Jonathan nodded nervously. *How is she so calm through all of this?* he thought. \n\n-Continued Below-\n"
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[WP] Write whatever story you've always wanted to write but never had the chance. Any genre or main story accepted.
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"\n\n\nI was a loner. That, I could admit. But not by choice, not really. I'd tried to get along with everyone in the beginning, and that may have been my problem. I should have just picked a clique--one of the fringe groups, maybe--and wedged my way in that way. But no, in a town full of elites I tried to be everyone's friend and that'd worked out horribly. Now I ate my lunches alone and spent my free time in lala-land. \n\nIt wouldn't bother me so much if they'd just leave me alone. But no, there were bullies. I tried to mind my own business and accept the lone wolf status I'd niched myself into, but these jerks kept messing with me. Maybe they were just bored and I proved to be an easy target; plain, under-developed, skinny little black girl. I didn't fit in in any way, not with my nappy hair and second-hand clothes. I know my parents did their best to match the nicest stuff Goodwill had to offer to the uniformity of this hour-away private school, but everyone could tell them for what they were. And me, too; they could see I didn't belong. If it weren't for the dean's kindness, I wouldn't be here. But here I was, and I had to make the best of it. \n\nLike I said, that'd be a whole lot easier were it not for the bullying. The kids probably didn't mean any real harm by it when they started that rumor about me being a witch, but it kinda' took off. Now it was a whole unspoken thing, like I'd get notes under my locker saying stuff like, 'burn at the stake' or, 'the power of Christ compels you'. And in class if I raised my hand and gave a right answer, they'd do the old trick of sneaking in insults like 'sorcery' between coughs. It was just annoying. I quieted down after that, already being a near-taciturn person, and things calmed down. But this weekend's Halloween, so the jokes started up again. Still, I didn't think they'd go this far. \n\nI don't know how they'd done it, but they'd gotten into my locker overnight. I knew for a fact they did because waiting for me this morning was a red ribbon. When I tugged on it between the slats, it just wouldn't budge; it was likely a bookmark. I rolled my eyes and prepared myself for what was to come. The stares and snickers from kids in the hallway observing me on their way to class was an indication that I was indeed being pranked again. \n\nBeing as careful as I could, I breezed through my lock combination and then opened the metal door slowly. This giant book fell at my feet. \n\nIts arrival was heralded by even louder laughs from the growing crowd around me. I bent down and studied the giant brown tome. I was right, it had a bookmark the width of three fingers and the color of crimson and it seemed to be deliberately aged, like one of those playfully ancient storybooks. Only this wasn't a book for children. Turning it over, I read the gilded green letters: 'The Young Woman's Guide To Practical Magick'. Hilarious. \n\n\"I mean, it's not like there's anything in there you don't already know, right?\" Angela remarked. \n\nHer voice was right above me, so I needed only raise my head to see her and her friends gathered among the crowd. \n\n\"But it's the thought that counts, isn't it?\" She continued. \n\nIt always mystified me as to how I'd get the most slack from a girl the same color as me. Granted, I was a little bit darker, but Angela and I, we were both black. You'd think we'd stick together, right? \n\n\"Rumor has it you were born on Halloween.\" She got in one last dig before the bell rung. \n\nI shook my head and turned back to the book. It wasn't a big deal, really. Other than the alarming fact that they'd somehow gotten into my locker, I didn't see a reason to pay Angela or anyone else any mind. It was just a prank. I wasn't hurt and to be honest, the book did look kind of interesting.\n\nI ran my fingers over the glossy title and cocked my head to the side, studying it with a faint smile. I decided then to, like with everything else, see the bright side of it all. I did like to read. \n\nBut the bell had rung, so I stood the book up against the back of my locker, grabbed my notebooks and hurried to class. \n\n_____________________________________________________________________________\n\n\nScience class was my saving grace. Not in the way that I was super good at it or anything, but in a way that it provided a great distraction for all the witch stuff. Around the middle of the week, my teacher reminded everyone that a comet would be passing through and that, if we camped out in our backyards, we'd be able to see it. For our small town, that was just about the greatest thing ever. Everybody was all excited and some of the more popular kids were planning a viewing party and everything. I just planned to take solace in the fact that no one seemed to be thinking about me or that weird book. And speaking of that, it was wrong of me to judge it by its cover. Its pages consisted of boredom, about 2000 pages of boredom. It was no better than a dictionary. I took it home Monday and read through as much as I could without falling asleep, then tossed it my closet with my four pairs of shoes. The most thrilling thing to come of it was, when my grandmother saw it while snooping around the house like she does, she got all superstitious. \n\nI didn't tell her about how the kids at school called me a witch. She just might believe it. Or think it was some kind of omen or sign. \n\nI didn't fault her for her ways. She grew up in another country, and where she was from, old wive's tales were a little more than that. But she was sweet and kind and was friends with the dean. She'd lived in this rich part of the city in a big old house for years and the reason why her son, my father, moved so far away--to the ghetto, no less--was because he and my uncle were convinced this place was haunted. If it was, I couldn't tell. Either way, I was looking forward to a quiet weekend. \n\n\"It's gonna' be a full moon Friday night. You know what THAT means.\" \n\nAh, I guess I spoke too soon about the focus moving off of me. The class thought that little jibe was funny but at this point, I was so uncaring I didn't even look up to see who'd spoken. I just kept drawing in the margin of my notebook. Yeah, I was looking forward to a weekend spent alone. \n\n__________________________________________________________________________\n\nThe comet wasn't the only thing I'd missed. I'd chosen to sleep in and was none the wiser that anything had happened until I woke up, went downstairs, and heard the news blasting in the kitchen. I saw my grandmother in her dress clothes, clutching her pearls and gazing with intent distress at the tiny screen next to the toaster. \n\n\"What happened?\" I'd asked, but the answer was soon apparent. \n\nMy grandma came over and rubbed my arms up and down and asked, \"Are you alright? You slept through all that banging?\" \n\nI nodded and asked, \"There was a bad storm or something?\" \n\n\"More than a storm, baby girl.\" Grandma shook her head and pointed at the tv. \"They say an asteroid or...meteor hit the part last night.\" \n\n\"What?\" I kind of laughed, because that was the most bizarre thing my old-world relative had ever uttered; seriously, she'd said some crazy things but this? \n\nI paid attention to the tv and heard, \"--windows smashed in with seventeen workers injured--\" \n\n\"Oh shit.\" \n\n\"Kiara!\" \n\n\"Sorry!\" I didn't usually talk like that aloud, only in my head, but the sight of downtown in shambles was freaking me out. I felt the blood in my body start to freeze as I watched the footage. There was glass all over the inside of the hospital from where the big-faced windows had shattered, as well as what looked like light fixtures mixed in the rubble. I saw some of the bricks blown off of buildings like a bomb had gone off and in the sky, shot from different angles, was this almost solid-looking thick smoke cloud. I started to shake. \n\n\"Where are you going?\" \n\nI had to go see this. I ran upstairs, yanked a pair of navy corduroy pants and a black polo shirt off their hangers and yanked them on as fast as I could. Then I pushed my bare feet into a pair of burgundy moccassins that weren't really meant for outdoors-wear but whatever. I ran back downstairs, grabbed one of my jackets from the couch (the one my grandma told me to put away a few days ago) and headed out. As soon as I was out the door, I winced, and went back inside. \n\n\"I'm going downtown, grandmother, I'll be right back.\" I called into the kitchen. \n\n\"Alright, baby, you be careful!\" I heard grandma respond. \n\nHaving done that, I left again and pulled my jacket on. It was old and kind of worn out but it was warm and familiar and I needed that, because the closer I got towards downtown, the more alien things felt. I didn't recognize the town I'd only just started to get used to. People were moving around, mostly watching, and there were cleanup crews decked out in day-glow vests, milling about. It looked like a tornado hit. \n\n"
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[WP] You are a cop whose job it is to arrest those who break the laws of physics. A time traveller, your equivalent of a serial killer, is on the loose.
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"Laws are not meant to be broken, and the laws of the universe that were set down by god were not meant to be broken either. The laws of the universe are just like our laws in society that are suppose to make life fair and allow everyone to play by the same rules. Also just like our laws in society the laws of physics can be broken. That is where we come in at the NYPD special physics unit or S.P.U. Our job is to hunt down these nasty criminals. Some of the most common problems we run into involve people changing force fields like gravity or electromagnetism. A lot of these people think they are actually doing something good or necessary, but unlike regular laws the laws of physics should never be broken. Us at the S.P.U. do not deal with the guilty or not guilty because if you break the laws of physics god says that is wrong and you must be punished for it. \n\nNow there is no criminal that we hate more at the S.P.U than the dreaded time traveller. Luckily we only have to deal with one every few years, but when we do it can be a real hassle and the whole unit comes together to bring down who ever it is. My partner Dr Raydon and I first got reports of this time traveller in Las Vegas after the super bowl. After one weekend of sports some guy managed to pick 100 underdogs 100% correct at all major casinos for big wins effectively cleaning out Vegas. The problem with these crimes is it is very difficult to find evidence to convict someone on since usually what they had done would be legal in society if they had not broken the laws of physics. Luckily us at the S.P.U have been able to push through laws that make us able to put these guys away even with just the appearance of a physics crime. So we knew we had this guy because it was such an obvious abuse of the laws of physics. Now we just had to find a way to catch him.\n\nHow this guy acquired the power to travel through time I do not know, and frankly did not care as long as we could catch him and throw him behind bars. This guy clearly did not know what he was doing because with in a couple of hours I had already got a tip on his name, description, and location from a C.I. Found out that his name was Don Julio and he had just bought Caesar's palace and appeared to be held up there by himself and all of the prostitutes in Vegas. Sounded like an easy job and we got permission to move from the commissioner.\n\nWhen we showed up we were able to walk right through the doors and Don Julio turned himself over without a fight. I thought this was very strange, but figured we got our guy and boarded the flight back to N.Y.C to book him.\n\nWe got back to the precinct and I figured this would be an easy one so I let the rookie type up the paperwork. Just as I finished instructing him what to do the phones started ringing off of the hook. Each one just had a manic laughter and then they all stopped and the one I was holding said \"let the fun begin.\" ",
"My boss, Mr. Daigo, doesn't notice me as I step into the room. He's too busy walking in circles around the cube shaped device in the middle of the large, white room. Every few steps he stops and inspects a piece of the ten feet tall, stainless steel machine before making a little noise and jotting something down on his tablet. \n\nI stand there awkwardly for several long moments, waiting on him to notice me. Even when I clear my throat he doesn't look up, and I can feel my earlier motivation fading into insubstantial mist. Mr. Daigo continues to circle, completely oblivious, his hawk like nose sticking out from beneath coke bottle glasses. \n\n\"Excuse me, sir,\" I say weakly. \"May I have a moment of your time?\"\n\n\"Just spit it out, Jim.\" He doesn't bother looking at me. \"I thought you were just going to stand there all day. \n\nI open my mouth to go on but he continues right over me. \n\n\"Why are you here on a Saturday anyway? Haven't you done enough this week?\" \n\n\"Well, sir.\" I cross the room and stop beside him but he keeps going, forcing me to follow. \"About that, I wanted to apologize. I know I let you down yesterday. I wasn't prepared, but now I am, so-\" \n\n\"Excuse me, son. Coming through.\" He shoos me out of the way and double checks a spot he just passed. \"Now then, what's this about you being prepared. Prepared for what?\"\n\n*Here goes.* I take a deep breath, ready to lay it all out there. \n\nI look up at the ceiling, unable to risk meeting his eyes. \"Send me after the time traveler sir. I'll take care of him.\" I gesture to the black, tactical fatigues I'm wearing. Every loop and pocket has a piece of gear, from guns and tasers to an extendable broom and dust pan combination. \n\nHe stops finally, squinting up at me. \"Did you say time traveler, Jim? What on Earth are you talking about?\" \n\nI shoot a glance towards the seamless machine standing beside us. \"You don't have to keep the secret anymore, sir. I know the men who broke in yesterday were here to make use of this time machine. Send me to wherever they went and I'll stop them.\"\n\nHe's quiet for so long that I have to look at him. He doesn't seem to notice or care about the bandage on my nose from where it was broken last night. But one graying eyebrow is nearly to the ceiling. \n\n\"Are you feeling okay?\" He asks. \"Did they hit you over the head too hard yesterday?\" \n\nMy neck heats as I flush in embarrassment. \"I'm fine, sir. I just want to get underway.\"\n\nHe pauses again. \"You want to hunt the men who broke in yesterday through my...\" He glances at the metal cube. \"Time machine.\"\n\nI nod. \n\nHe sighs.\n\n\"Jim, you've been a security guard here for fifteen years. What makes you think we have a time machine, or that you're some kind of cop?\" \n\n\"I was on your computer,\" I admit, trying to stay strong. \"I read it in one of your files\" \n\n\"One of my files,\" he mutters. \"May I ask, do you even know what we do here?\" \n\nI scratch my head and smile. \"Of course. You invented the first time machine to eventually go back and correct history.\"\n\n\"Read the tag on your shirt pocket, please.\"\n\nI do, it says, *Waste Management, LLC*\n\n\"I built a giant trash vaporizer, Jim.\" He gestures. \"Come with me.\"\n\nWe walk towards the front of the cube and he pulls open a door that's almost impossible to even see. Inside, I don't see any platforms or input stations. There's only a vague smell of smoke and ash. I stare at the interior for several minutes and he eventually closes the door, forcing me to step out of the way. \n\n\"Soooo....there's no time machine?\" I ask. \n\n\"No, there isn't.\"\n\n\"And those guys that broke in?\"\n\n\"Probably on drugs. Now they're a small cloud of dust.\"\n\nI bite my lip. \"I'm fired aren't I?\" \n\n\"You are right about that Jim.\" He nods and motions for me to get out and I turn and walk away, eyes watering. \"Oh, one more thing,\" he calls and a spark of hope appears, only to be quickly snuffed out. \"Leave all the cleaning supplies you stuffed in that outfit, the janitor comes in soon.\""
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[WP] A new drug is developed which gives its users horrific hallucinations. Soon it is discovered that all people have the same hallucinations, and in fact are perceiving the supernatural: ghosts.
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"Well fuck. We were wrong. \n\n\nYou know all of those fantastical religions with an afterlife in the sky or recarnation or bullshit like that, yeah they were wrong. The only thing they got remotely right was the soul shenagins. \n\n\nSouls are most akin to a brand new hard drive: they both start out blank. When a baby is born it's soul is competly empty, no operating system stored, no memories (beyond that of their mothers hearts and voices through the womb), nothing. As people get older they amass experiences, learning, and all that riff raff goes on their souls. \n\n\nFrom what we can tell, souls have existed for all of eternity, existing and floating in pure nothingness. Then, on Earth, life decided to just fucking happen. It started with tiny little bacteria; brainless blobs that just did the basic work of getting energy and replicating. Then, because of evolution or some shit, plants and animals arrived. Despite the thoughts of hippies everywhere, plants don't have souls. They just act on pure and utter biology and chemical reactions but animals, animals are different. Animals developed an organ that could take one of these floating souls and write into them, allowing what we call memories to form. This organ was the brain.\n\n\nThe brain doesn't store memories like scientists always thought, it only taps into the memory storage of a soul. The only thing the brain does is manage and maintain the systems of the body. Like a mouse and a keyboard the sensory organs are input devices that collect information to be processed by the brain, then stored in the soul. What we thought were memory storing parts of the brain were actually parts that called upon the information stored in the soul. Early brains didn't use the full capacity of the soul. Early soul findings show that they only slightly used them to find patterns, but as they developed they displayed a wider variety of characteristics like mimicking behaviors, abstract thought, and eventually emotions that we feel today.\n\n________________________________________________________________\n\n\n*Might continue later.*\n\n\n*Next part will delve into how these things were discovered i.e the prompt's stuff.*"
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[WP] Welcome to something I hope to start. Write about anything you wish but it must start off happy and take a dark ass twist.
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"I was at my friend John's wedding. Upbeat jazz played while couples danced, including John himself and his wife Nellie. I sat at a table and watched the guests dancing. Looking at John warmed my heart. He looked so happy. I was happy for him, I really was.\n\nI sat there, smiling to myself. I wasn't moping about not having someone to dance with myself. I was just enjoying sipping my wine and listening to the music. It seems, however, that my non-existent prayers, which I definitely wasn't making, were answered that day.\n\nA woman came up to my table, and said to me, \"hello, you must be Jason, right?\"\n\nI nodded.\n\n\"My name is Nora,\" she said, \"would you care to dance?\"\n\n\"I'd be delighted,\" I said.\n\nWe began dancing to the music. She was better at it than me, I'm afraid, but I didn't completely embarrass myself at least.\n\n\"So,\" I asked, \"are you also a friend of John's?\"\n\n\"Yes,\" she said, \"he's told me some about you.\"\n\n\"Really?\" I said, \"he hasn't told me anything about you. What has he told you?\"\n\n\"Oh,\" she said, \"just that you write science fiction.\"\n\n\"Ah, well I suppose nothing I can do will make you think any worse of me, then.\"\n\n\"Ah no, not at all. I actually like science fiction.\"\n\nWhat!? I couldn't believe my luck. Nobody liked science fiction.\n\n\"Well you're one of the few who do, then,\" I noted.\n\n\"I suppose. I've actually read some of your books. I really liked them,\" she said.\n\nI looked into her eyes. She really was extremely beautiful. Implausibly beautiful.\n\n\"Oh really, which ones?\" I asked her.\n\n\"*Night of the Frozen Towers*, *Therfolnat*, *Orange Cats of Evil*. They were all fantastic.\"\n\n\"Really?\" I asked, \"because I was never able to get any of those published. So how did you come by them?\"\n\nShe looked confused for half a second before I waved my hand through her, and she vanished like the dream that she was.\n\nI sometimes get these hallucinations. I had been dancing by myself in the middle of the floor. With no one. Fortunately, it seemed that I hadn't actually been talking aloud this time. I bowed to the onlookers, as though my solo couples dance had been an amusing stunt. They smiled and clapped, none the wiser. I went back to my table and my wine. I would have to be more careful not to ruin John's big day.\n\nMy eyes were a bit watery for some reason, so I sipped my wine a bit. I caught John looking at me. He flashed me an inquiring thumbs up. I flashed one back, and forced a smile. Nora had been a better hallucination than the warlike aliens that often visited me. Perhaps after I went home, I could work on *Trees of Neutronium*. Maybe I would really be able to get that one published.\n\nAt least I had John. He always looked out for me, made sure I was doing okay. Some people might find it unpleasant to be an unpublished, alcoholic, loveless science fiction writer, but with friends like John, it actually wasn't all that bad.\n\n\"Good old John,\" I said to myself under my breath. This could still be a good day.\n\nI noticed that I was holding a piece of bread. Huh. I didn't remember how that got there. I took a bite anyway though. I was suddenly feeling very hungry, and a little bit cold.\n\n---\n\nTwo people in heavy coats strolled along the sidewalk, having just given a homeless man some bread.\n\n\"Why was he saying 'good old John'? Your name isn't John,\" asked one.\n\n\"No,\" explained the other, \"John is his imaginary friend. He's... not right in the head, you see.\"\n\nThey walked on. The homeless man stared off into space with a dazed happy expression on his face. Then he frowned, grumbling, \"oh no, not the aliens again. I'll never get any writing done.\""
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[WP] The reason why Earth has so many varieties of diseases, parasites and bacteria is because countless alien civilizations use Earth as a testing ground for weapons and vaccines, and they didn't expect anything to live here. We find out eventually and get very angry.
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"The human in front of me was pissed. Her clenched fists were wringing the edges of her blue uniform and her face was turning an unbecoming shade of purple. I assumed she was trying not to hit me. To be fair I couldn't blame her, but then again, scientific advance does require sacrifice. \n\n\"So. Every blight, every sickness? Was you.\" Emissary Collins stared at the ground in disbelief.\n\n\"Well, not ME specifically. But yes.\" Her hands reached out for two of my six eyes as if to gouge them but she restrained herself.\n\n\"Billions of us over time. Trillions even. The bubonic plague, influenza, cancer....all of it.\" She was shaking, her dark red hair falling into her face and hiding her eyes. Rage vibrated off of her body.\n\n\"Well to be fair we also supplied the planet with the cures as we were developing the diseases. It really isn't our fault you didn't discover them all in a timely manner.\" I took a step back when she met my eyes. Unbridled hatred burned into me, and I felt what the humans would refer to as guilt.\n\n\"How long have you known about us?\" It was barely a question, her voice was quiet and shaking.\n\nI winced visibly. \"About four hundred of your years.\" Blue eyes widened in shock, tears forming in the corners.\n\n\"Why?\"\n\n\"I mean, well. It wasn't just my decision.\" I was stumbling over myself, and the human took another step back. Internally I resisted the urge to slide backwards. \n\n\"***WHY?***\" Collins hissed between her teeth.\n\n\"Well I mean, humans are VERY durable, and surprisingly compatible with many species across the known universe......\"\n\n\"**WHAT** does that ***MEAN?*** \" Her voice was fire and she moved even closer to me.\n\n\"Y-You were the ideal control to perform our tests on.\" Another step. \"Perfect lab rats as you call them.\" I offered an attempt at a human comparison, to help her understand how instrumental the humans had been to the scientific growth of my species. Emissary Collins had gone still, her eyes boring into a pair of my own.\n\nThe silence was deafening and I shifted my back feet uncomfortably.\n\n I didn't even realize she was on me until I felt the knife penetrate my cranial shell.\n\n\n---\n\n\nThank you for reading! Any feedback is greatly appreciated!",
"\"What the hell, man?\"\n\n\"We're really sorry about that.\"\n\n\"Seriously? You didn't check first?\"\n\n\"Again, we're really sorry about that.\"\n\n\"Because...we've been down here for awhile and diseases are really, just, everywhere.\"\n\n\"Clearly an administrative oversight.\"\n\n\"The plague was you?\"\n\n\"Which plague?\"\n\n\"THE PLAGUE.\"\n\n\"Oh yes. That. We were quite proud of that.\"\n\n\"Well it killed a whole lot of us.\"\n\n\"That's what it was supposed to do.\"\n\n\"Really?\"\n\n\"We apologize again, we just worked really hard on that one.\"\n\n\"And HIV, was that you too?\"\n\n\"Oh yes.\"\n\n\"What is wrong with you?\"\n\n\"Well strictly speaking that wasn't an actual bio-weapon, Jenkins just had a bit too much fun on vacation and contaminated a sample. We cured that decades ago\"\n\n\"Dude... not okay.\"\n\n\"Jenkins apologized to you already.\"\n\n\"Well that's not enough!\"\n\n\"I really don't know what more you want. Clearly everything worked out for your species.\"\n\n\"It would have worked a lot better without smallpox!\"\n\n\"I'm sorry, small what?\"\n\n\"Smallpox. You gave us smallpox. One of the worst, it killed millions. Many of us are still carriers.\"\n\n\"... has anyone else ever heard of this one? Forlax? Jenkins? ...anybody? Because he hasn't been through decontamination ...Nothing?\"\n\nShit"
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[WP] You're bored driving home, when you decide to follow a construction truck that specifically reads on the back "Do Not Follow".
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"Instinctively, Harold checked the other lane for oncoming traffic so he could pass the heavy truck that lumbered in front of him. Then, thinking of his wife and baby at home, decided instead to hang back. Sitting in his car, listening to his favourite music, watching the sun set behind distant mountains—this was the only time Harold felt he could truly relax. Betty told him explicitly to get home asap but for reasons unknown to Harold, he got a small thrill out of disobeying people.\n\nHe turned his music up and tapped his fingers along to the driving Fleetwood Mac baseline. As cars passed him and the truck he smiled. The truck was an a flatbed with a couple of rusted red shipping containers on it. In Between the brake lights was a slogan written in black. He couldn't quite make it out and edged forward to satisfy his curiosity. 'Don't follow me' was written there. Not much of a slogan, and Harold realised it wasn't just a novelty sticker, the message had been imprinted into the truck's bumper. \n\nHarold followed the truck, feeling a slight thrill one gets when doing something they shouldn't be doing. His turn off was coming up on the right. He looked at it sadly, *funs over*, and rested his fingers on his indicator. *Just one more exit*, Harold thought, *I can always say I was caught up in traffic*.\n\nHarold continued following the truck. Shadows stretched long across the dry fields that filled the area. Up ahead he saw a hitchhiker standing, thumb out, looking hopefully towards the approaching convoy. The truck wasn't slowing down for him and Harold looked awkwardly around his empty car, preparing to give the hitchhiker an apologetic shrug. He never got to make that shrug as the truck suddenly veered out towards the man, wheels squealing in protest. Harold heard a thud.\n\nThe hitchhiker was replaced with tire tracks in the dirt. Harold scanned the area trying to affirm what had happened. There, about one hundred metres down the road, the bloodied man lay broken, his limbs splayed out at unnatural angles. Harold felt the surge of adrenaline replace his placid state of before. He reached for his phone, flicking it unlocked with a trembling finger. But before he could dial he remembered where he was. How would he explain being out here to his wife? He could see his wife's face as he explained to her how he 'just wanted to take a break'. No. That wouldn't work. He came to a stop, pulled a U-turn and headed the other way. \n\nHe was still trying to justify this to himself—could he really just ignore a murder?—when he heard the heavy screeching behind him. In his rear view mirror the truck had pulled off an impressive hand brake turn and was now heading in Harold's direction. *Good* Harold thought, *he must've decided to call it in. Probably realized that I saw everything*. But the truck careened past the dead body and continued towards Harold's car. *Oh shit.*\n\nThe truck approached with surprising speed. Harold pulled away to the left, making his turn off and praying the truck didn't follow. It followed, as if enacting petty revenge for being followed before. Harold wove in and out of traffic desperately fleeing the pursuing truck. It was surely only a matter of time before the truck hit another car, but with a skill displayed with its prior hand brake turn, it threaded between the traffic with expert precision. \n\nHarrold was now prepared to call the police, but he couldn't afford to take a hand of the wheel. He drove as fast as he dared yet the truck was somehow closing the gap. Through his rear view mirror he glimpsed the person behind the wheel of the truck. Expecting to see some red faced man fuming with rage, he instead saw a middle aged woman with an eerily calm expression on her face. The sight chilled him and reminded him of his wife.\n\nAn intersection lay ahead, not the type of intersection one could speed through and expect to survive. Harold still considered it, it would most likely get rid of his pursuer. Instead, he drove off the road, over a ditch and through a fence. His car skidding across the field, turning sideways before starting to roll. \n\nHarold woke up in hospital. \n\n\"Oh Harold!\"\n\n\"Hi...\" Harold said, feeling confused and slightly afraid.\n\n\"Some crazy truck driver plowed through an intersection, they say you were lucky to get out of the way. It could have been a lot worse than a broken leg.\"\n\n\"Broken leg?\" *Damn, but I guess she's right, it could be worse.*\n\n\"Yes. Doctor says i'll have to drive you for the next few months.\"\n\nHarold managed to suppress a tortured groan. \n\n\"It's for your own good, I don't want you getting into another crash.\"\n\n\"Don't worry,\" Harold sighed. \"I'm not feeling as rebellious as I used to.\"\n\n\n"
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[WP] "The sea may be vast and treacherous, but it's laden with the fruit of adventure. Just do not stray too far from your path. Monsters dwell in these depths. Bitter reflections of ourselves: cunning, evil. They say the journey maketh the monster. Anyway, I wish you luck in finding your father."
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[
"The captain added a gruff farewell hug as he spoke the last line. I thanked him and hugged him even tighter; knowing that this would be the last time I'd ever lay eyes on him. Over the last several months he had been like a father to me. I would always remember him, and this ship. Of the voyage we made, and of the friends I made amongst this rag-tag crew of his. \n\nHis fondness of the sea was legendary. He had battled monsters from the deep, and that of the much fouler: that of man. For laws were but a penance to the old man. He smelled of sea salt and iron. As he released me from his hold, I noticed a swinging chain; which had glinted ostensibly in the bright light of high noon. The skies were clear of both cloud and bird. Which was odd, as we had landed on the busiest outpost this side of Mydrall: the home of the king. Birds normally chattered maddeningly at these kinds of harbors\n\nI said nothing of the gleaming chain, for fast as lighting it had returned among the folds of the grizzled pirates overlapping leather coat. Although, he noticed my quizical stare---and roared a bout of laughter.\n\n\"I had almost forgot laddie! This treasure I have harbored for long enough... I meant to give it to you earlier. But the thing has a queer draw to it. Now promise me you'll keep it in good tidings; for ere' been on two centuries in the family---my family.\" He had paused. Hand outstretched; holding me firm around one shoulder, unyielding in his iron grip. He looked up, and under the low-hanging blackend hat, two blue-gray eyes peered into my heart, and held me steadfast.\n\nHe continued, \"Son, I have no heir of my own. You have been like a child to me. Through the fountains of Gilalae, the Falls of the Ahnnor, the mountain of Unduleath... I only wish I could take you further than I have. But I can go no further; I have my own battles. The journey you have yet to face, is a path meant for only one.\" He swept his arm wide. And in a flourish, like a stage show for a king, he swept his brindled jacket aside and drew a shinning amulet that encased a pulsing purple light. It was a gemstone unlike any I had ever seen before. \n\n\"The light of Ahndrelle Dath'eve. It is said to hold the key to luck: story goes a thief plucked it from the eye of a God.\" I was baffled. I stammered out a reply before thinking of what I said. \n\n\"Gheren! I could not accept such a gift from you. This alone is worth more than a hundred times the amount I carry. You could buy half the Ahnnor with such wealth! Don't be mad my friend! I need no such object to fascinate thieves on my travels. The luck, I would not object to... but this---\" he had cut me short, and now, not one hand held me pinned in iron grip; but two gnarled and massive paws held my slim shoulders still, unmoving.\n\nHe bore down upon me, and his form shadowed the sun. His breath smelt of sour wine. Wine gone rancid in the heat of a blazing sun. The amulet was grasped in his left hand: the loose chain swinging softly in the breeze on my right shoulder. It made a soft rustling sound as it grazed the chain mail that hung out of and around the top of my tunic.\n\n\"Boy, ye be needing all the luck in the world. I have used this gift one last time. It is yours now, and yours alone; at whatever discretion you wish to use. You'll find it hides itself easily---no one can steal it unless you want it to be stolen.\"\n\nI gasped in bewilderment. \"You meant for me to see it, didn't you?\"\n\n\"Aye lad! Misfortune and haphazards seem to tarry along your side like a pup to a bitch!\" He chuckled. His one gold tooth glinted in the sunlight as he belted a hearty laugh. He returned presently to the matter at hand. His gaze became more firm, and he tossed the amulet towards me as he backed away in one motion. It nearly slipped from my fingers, but one stubborn digit somehow caught in a link at the end of the chain: it now swung erratically as I lifted it, and pulsed a vivid and livid purple. \n\nI turned my gaze back to the pirate, but he had stepped back onto the deck of his ship. And a heavy fog began to swirl about as the amulet took on an even brighter purple. It was illuminating outwards, like a lantern. Lighting the fog to the same strange color as the mystical object. He looked towards me as a ghost does towards the living: outcast, and distant. Then he spoke. \n\n\"The strangeness will fade in time. Gather your mind Cen. You are indeed on a great path, an honorable journey. Besides, you need luck more than me! I'm an old man, fading to eternal dusk... everlasting twilight..\" He spoke the last bit with a sense of longing and wonderment. Then added another chuckle. The glint from his tooth now shone in that same, eerie purple light. And faded to black as the mist surrounded the wayward captain like a blanket.\n\nHe roared laughter from beyond the mist. It felt cool on my hot cheeks; the sun was now fully obscured by the heavy settlement of gathered moisture. And he spoke only once more.\n\n\"Best wishes my lad! Find the key to the tower! Find your father! Stop the Plag'aue Tarren! Stop the hoard!\" But before his gruff voice finished echoing in the smallness of the fog, I felt rather than heard someone behind me. I turned on abashed feet; the amulet seemingly falling into place under my tunic. Somehow forming around my neck, and tinkling as it shifted around upon the ringlets of my mail.\n\nTurning fully, I had now returned to the bright sun. It hurt my eyes; it stung. Until this moment I had not noticed the intensity: but then, the fog had somehow disappeared. Like a phantom seen in the dead of night, it had stolen away from sight. I did a fast double take: swinging my head on lead-laden shoulders. Behind me nothing stirred except the sea, softly lapping at the wooden posts that held the dock. The sight was pristine. It went on for miles and miles until the blue of the ocean met the blue of the sky. It made a clear, unbroken line across the vast expanse. No ship, no creature, no landform blocked it or hindered it. Only small waves lulled in the distance, breaking the hypnotic flatness. \n\nA gull shrieked from somewhere, the birds had seemed to return. I hadn't heard any since I began to say my farewell to the captain. Which was odd, since this was such a busy port: now it seemed a prevalent and valid concern.---\n\n\"Sir, do you have documentation? Ship, harbor, freight---what is the meaning of your transgression? Are you drunk?\" I whirled around to find a piqued officer dressed in fine doubled dress attire. I stared, blinking as my eyes adjusted to the brightness. I felt drunk... A'heren a'lay!---I hoped it. \n\n\"Your papers sir...\" He spoke in an irritated manner, I didn't blame him. I opened my mouth to make a hasty reply. But suddenly, out of the shadows, two lieutenants and a formation of military men strode out behind a great outpost far and center to the entrance of the wide dock. They moved forward onto the wooden plans. I could hear their footfalls even from the distance I was. It sounded like mangled bodies falling onto stony rocks. \n\nI was a known fugitive those days. My father having been imprisoned for the slaying of the king. Whether or not he did actually kill the man, my quest was to save him. The military under the black hand of the Anon'un Tarreth had found that truth through cold steel when I broke him free of the gold tower in the city of Mydrall. Beaten and captured, we had been seperated. He had been tortured severely I heard. And through fate unseen, I had been saved before my own torture had even started. Gheren had found me, and took me then. We barely escaped the city alive. I pledged my service. But that service was now fulfilled. And Gheren was never the one to leave people in easy situations.\n\nNow standing bewildered in front of gathering guards and fighting men, I smiled. resting my hands to the sides, fingering the butt of my pistol and the hilt of my sword; I drew a deep breath. And from within my tunic, a deep purple began to softly glow. ",
"In a realm of endless motion\n\nthe sailor plies his arts.\n\nThere are no paths upon the ocean,\n\nonly maps and charts.\n\n\nWe fear what lies beneath the waves,\n\nwhat horrifying doom.\n\nIt is a cold and shadowed grave,\n\nthe world's greatest tomb.\n\nThe men who died, their souls remain\n\ntrapped down in the depths.\n\nThe water with their blood is stained,\n\nwith memories of death.\n\n\nSome of these dead bring themselves back,\n\nout from the dark and cold\n\nTo drag still more into the black,\n\nbring them into the fold.\n\n\nYour father sailed from these banks,\n\nraised anchor long ago.\n\nIs he alive, or with the ranks\n\nof dead, I do not know.\n\nSet your course by the stars,\n\nuse landmarks where you can.\n\nBut know the sea was never ours,\n\nwas never meant for man.\n\n\nNow up the mast hoist your sail,\n\nand do not say goodbye.\n\nMark my words, and you'll not fail,\n\nupon the wind you'll fly.\n\n===================\n\nEDIT: Author's Note: If anyone can help me with formatting stanzas in reddit's text editor, I would appreciate it."
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(Idea from /u/postmodest shower thoughts)
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[WP] You were in a car accident on Halloween, no one believes you are injured.
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"It's strange when I look back at it now, but I was so normal once upon a hallowed night. I was nothing more then a human at one point, or more to the point, a shell. Something that looked human, something that acted human, but wasn't. I couldn't have guessed in a million years that the accident would have awoken me...\n\nBut let's start at the beginning. My name is Nigma. Eddy Nigma. Now, I know what you're going to say, my folks loved Batman when they named me. And I'd agree with you, if only my folks only knew who Batman was when I was born. But they didn't, as Batman isn't something from our world, we never got to meet or read about his exploits. Instead, we had cops, we had armies, we had things that didn't make highlights. \n\nAnd it wasn't until the accident on Halloween night when I was 12 that I didn't know about Batman either. You see, Halloween is a scary time when you're young. It helps you realize though that the Halloween time is when everyone tries to hide their face behind a mask. Something the doctors and nurses have been doing since then.\n\nMy parents were driving me to my friend's party so we could play those normal Halloween games. You know, like Ghostbusters, Murder the Monster, and so forth. But they had to swerve to get off the road, to avoid the drunk driver who came our way. And I remember shrieking alongside my folks as we lost control and went over the edge.\n\nBut I remember what the coma had for me. It had Batman movies, played by a man named Christian Bale. They had video games that punished you for being violent to monsters. They even had some strange ritual of being kind to each other and giving out sugar during Halloween. It made no sense to me, and I couldn't understand it.\n\nAnd in that world, they never thought I was hurt. I looked like them, I talked like them, but I wasn't them. These weren't humans, these were.... something, but they certainly weren't humans as I knew them. \n\nWhile I loved the lack of violence, there was still hate in this world. Hatred towards each other for skin colour, for religion, for difference. And it didn't matter if they were all the same inside. The amount of hate that some of these people had... it was unreal. And they wouldn't let anything go. Reminding each other about how Hillary did this. That Donald did that. \n\nWhen I finally came out of the coma, the doctors above me informed me that I had been in a coma for a little over a year. I was shocked, stunned even, because it felt like I had spent a lifetime there. They informed me that my parents had died in the accident.\n\nBut that I had no injuries. That I was fine, the coma protected me. And that's when the reality set in - that I was home again, and not in a world of love and hatred. That I was back on my world, where we hunted and killed the innocent. Oppression commonplace, free thought illegal. It was a nightmare by comparison.\n\nI leave this note here for you now, for I'm not sure if I belong here anymore. You'll not miss me when I'm gone, but I'm trying to find that world again. That world where they could laugh, where they could fear, but they could be happy. Something our world knows nothing about. \n\nAnd I'll make it there. \n\nOr I'll die trying.\n\n****\n[NoireWrites - a collection of my stories](https://noirewrites.wordpress.com/)"
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[WP] You have just died, and Death approaches you. Before you can beg for your soul, Death hands you a black robe and a scythe, proclaiming, "You have been found worthy."
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"Once again my head was jerked down into the toilet. I struggled to get my face up from to the surface but Tom was too strong. I was at his mercy. He pulled my up and screamed \"NOW, LET ME HEAR YOU APOLOGIZE\". \n\n\"I.. I'm sorry\" I gasped. \n\n\"No you're not shitface\", he said and shoved me to the side. My head hit the bathroom wall with a scarily loud *bang*.\n\n\"Never talk back to me again.\" He said in his most intimidating tone, then he left the stall.\n\nI should've known better. Cursing under my breath I dragged myself up. Why'd I have to comment? If only I had kept my mouth shut. The sense of being soaked in piss-water was not pleasent and the ringing after the head-to-wall incident did not make it better. I left the stall on unsure legs and went to recollect my bag which were shattered all over the bathroom. I actually still had a math class to attend but no fucking way I was gonna stay in school one second longer. It was friday and I really needed this weekend. Badly. I put on my hood and left the school grounds as fast as I could, luckily no one saw me, not even any students. Class had allready started I reminded myself. \n\nMinutes later I was on my bike on my way home, still soaking wet but at least my head had mostly cleared up. My thoughts were mostly sorrounding Billy and how I could get my revenge some day. I was going throgh various different methods of how I would shame him infront of the whole school, when I was jerked out of my day dreaming by a loud horn. I almost fell out off my bike in shock, but managed stay keep my balance. I looked around for the source and saw a truck going towards a guy standing right in front of me, but in the middle of the street. He was wearing headphones and seemingly heard nothing. I instinctively jumped off my bike and ran towards the guy. \n\nI woulnd't make it. \n\nThe truck tried to stop but it was too heavy and going too fast. \n\nI woulnd't make it. \n\nThe horn was louder than anything I had heard before, ýet I barely noticed it. The guy had noticed the truck but seemed to be frozen from shock. \n\nI woulnd't make it.\n\nI jumped the last meter, tackling the guy away from certain death. However he was a big fellow. Much bigger than I had anticipated and even though I managed to get him out of the way I was pushed back by the collosion. \n\nI fell and looked up. \n\nFor a second it was like time stood still. The truck was only centimeters away, the truck driver had a horrid expression as he tried to dodge me, and then the guy I had saved looked back at me, his mouth gaping. It was Billy. I had saved Billy.\n\n Time resumed and I had a splitsecond of time left where screams, whining tires and horn sounds sorrounded me. Then everything went black. Confused I looked around. All the sounds had stopped, it was completely quiet. Not just \"nobody is talking quiet\" but comeplete and utter silence. The black parted away and a white figure emerged from, well from nothing. I started to panic, for the first time in this whole sequence of events I was really panicing. What was going on? What was this? Surely I wasn't dead since I was..? Well.. I was not dead. I could feel things, I could clearly hear my breath, this coulnd't be death. But I should be dead. I had to be after that. And who was this dark figure? Upon further examination I could make out something in it's hand. A scythe? I froze. \n\nDeath?\n\nBut.. Impossible.. But... Before I could create a sentence the black figure sat down next to me. Only now I realized that I had fallen. The scythe in his hand started moving towards me and I tried to move but was unable to. I wonder if this was how Billy had felt when he saw the truck coming towards him. I could only stare at the scythe, but the scythe wasn't aiming for my head, it wasn't aiming for anything. He was *handing* it to me. I took it, not knowing what else to do. Next he gave me a black robe. I also took it, and then realized that it was the same robe that *it* was wearing. \n\n\"You have been found worthy\", the thing uttered.\n\n It was barely audible but with the entirely silent surroundings I could clearly make it out. \n\n\"I expect great things from you, Billy\".",
"(Initially, I wanted to write something longer and sadder but my imagination ran away with me and this is the result. Hope you enjoy!)\n\n**\n\nShe just needed some time to think.\n\n\nHe was great, definitely; she loved him more than she loved herself. But their relationship could be a tad bit overwhelming at times, leaving her frustrated with his insecurities, and him with her passivity. \n\n\n[Sent 27/03, 11:16] Me: It’s my fault...I’m sorry you have to put up with my shit…\n\n[Sent 27/03, 11:17] Honey: No, not at all! I’m glad you’re taking some time for yourself :) I’ll be here for you yeah!\n\n[Sent 27/03, 11:17] Honey: I guess it might be too much to ask you to promise that you’ll eventually come back to me, right? *scratches head*\n\n[Draft 27/03, 11:20] Me: I don’t really know how to say it but I think I wil\n\n\n**\n\n\nIn retrospect, she really shouldn’t have been typing that out while she was crossing the road.\n\n\n** \n\n\nShe woke up, confused. She didn’t think she’d wake. The screech of the tires were so shrill, *so near*, that she didn’t even have time to react. \n\n\nShe remembered blinking herself into unconsciousness, while attempting to reach for her phone. \n\n\nIt was crushed under the car’s front tire. \n\n\n**\n\n\nBelatedly, she pressed a hand to her chest, searching for the thrum of her heart. \n\n\nIt took her some time to realise that she couldn’t feel a heartbeat. \n\n\nIt took her a further minute after that to process that she could still move.\n\n\n**\n\n\nShe had been screaming for the entire day. The lack of worried nurses rushing to her side imbued in her a sickening sensation. \n\n\nHer suspicions were confirmed as she was forcibly wheeled out of the ward, and to a chilled room. \n\n\nSobbing, she yelled out, trying to hold on to any sliver of hope that she could grasp. She gasped as she suddenly felt much lighter, floating within her mortal instrument and bumping against her skin. \n\n\nAnd she cried, afraid and exhausted. \n\n\n**\n\n\nIt must have been a few hours before she finally cared to open her eyes. She expected to see white, or black, or anything that a dead person could expect to see. \n\n\nShe didn’t expect to see the man in the corner. Even while dead, she cringed at the walking fashion faux pas leaning against the cabinets, peering at her. \n\n\nHe looked as though he was staring at her, intently. \n \n“Who are you?” She croaked, gearing herself not to receive a reply from the man, who was dressed as though he had wanted to go to a 70s Retro themed club but had decided to wear absurdly bright clothes to combat the inadequate lighting and possibly show off his unique personality, then would wonder why all the clubbers decided to stick in their boring clumps of black clothed cliques. \n\n\nShe herself was wearing what she wore that day, while still a human - a black shirt, black ripped jeans and black sneakers. \n\n\nShe wondered if Disco Man was judging her clothing choices as much as she was judging his. \n\n\nIt was only then that she glimpsed of the scythe that was balanced precariously against a table. The *scythes*, actually. \n\n\nDisco Man spoke, his voice surprisingly high and melodious. “You understand the current situation that you are in, do you not?”\n\n\nOh, right. She was dead. She didn’t know how to react to that, considering how she’d never been *dead* before, not even once - \n\n\nWhat was the proper code of etiquette when conversing with someone else who didn’t seem very worldly? \n\n\n“Um,” she stuttered out, voice hoarse from overuse, “I guess I should ask you to spare me? I’m pretty young, in university, studying Information Technology and I’m about to embark - or rather, I was about to embark on - a super big project that I was really excited about, and I told all my friends about it.”\n\n\nHe hadn’t reacted. She grimaced. \n\n\n“Yeah, so it would be really nice if you could sp-”\n\n\n“Whoa, wait,” Disco Man interjected. “I know all about you, honey.” (She balked at the endearment, just a little) “In fact, it’s the reason why I’ve been standing here for close to 2 hours now.” His voice grew softer. “I didn’t want to disturb you in your time of grieving.”\n\n\nShe sighed. “I’m really dead now, aren’t I?”\n\n\nHe sighed, too. “Yes, you are. But then again, not really. I’m supposed to explain this to you, pardon me for a bit.”\n\n\nHe strode over to the table, or at least, she assumed that he was striding over to the table, from what she could hear from her position still on the examination table. \n\n\nWithout any warning, she was greeted by the image of a scythe hurtling towards her face at full speed. \n\n\nShe shrieked, as much as a dead being could shriek, and could see Disco Man trying to stifle his giggles when she propped her upper body to sit up on the table, submerged in her physical form from waist down. \n\n\n“Not bad, huh? Feeling lighter and such,” Disco Man smiled at her, not unkindly. She returned it hesitantly.\n\n\n“Anyway,” Disco Man chirped, “I have to make you go through this ceremony, please move to the edge of the table - there we go! Now, you have been found worthy. Please accept the position that you will receive, the position of Reaper.”\n\n\nShe blinked. \n\n\nDisco Man made an incredulous noise. “Don’t they write stories about Reapers anymore? Don’t you know what they are? Have they at least written me into pop culture?” He demanded. “Death used to be pretty huge, when I first started out.” \n\n\n“There have been stories!” She blurted, before he could get any more agitated. “I’ve watched some shows and read some books but there’s never been a specific. Uh. Job scope, for interested applicants.”\n\n\n“Ah, don’t worry!” Disco Man, *Death*, chirped again, tone entirely too light hearted to be discussing the issue of future employment with someone he just met. “Just accept it first, and I’ll train you.”\n\n\n“Right.” She murmured. “I accept this offer?”\n\n\n“Great!” Death offered her the scythe in his hand - the scythe that had liberated her from her body - and a black robe that she hadn’t seen him carrying. \n\n\nEyeing the black robe, she asked “Is this a uniform of sorts?”\n\n\n“Yes?” Death replied. “Do you not like it?”\n\n\nBefore she could stop herself from talking back to her boss, she blurted, “It’s slightly stereotypical, don’t you think?”\n\n\n*What the hell*, she thought, *it’s not like he can kill me for defiance or whatever*.\n\n\nDeath looked lost in thought. “You don’t like it? I actually got robes because trainee Reapers have been telling me how comfortable they are because the fabric from this shop is really good and you seem to wear a lot of black, judging from your wardrobe -”\n\n\n“You’ve seen my wardrobe?!”\n\n\n“Well, yes! I’ve got to know everything about my new recruit, don’t I? I guess I got too caught up and looked around your room a little more than I should have.”\n\n\n“Please tell me you didn’t see my -”\n\n\n“I did, actually, but that’s besides the point! I just thought it would be nice for you to change out of your jeans because we’re going to be doing quite a bit of traveling.” \n\n\nDeath vaguely resembled a typical shoujo anime protagonist, blushing and biting his lower lip. \n\n\nShe sighed, for the second time that day (was it day? night?), and changed into her robes, Death averting his eyes until she was done. \n\n\n“Thank you.”\n\n\nDeath looked up.\n\n\n“Those Reaper trainees weren’t lying, these robes are really comfortable.”\n\n\n“Cost a pretty penny, they did!” Death beamed. “But as long as you’re comfortable. Hey, I’m going to bring you back to my place so that you can wash up and I can explain the small print in the verbal contract that you signed, okay?”\n\n\nThis time, she returned his smile in full force. “Yes, please.”"
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[WP] In an alternate universe, the Europeans never cross the Atlantic. The Mayans have just discovered the "New World".
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"52nd day 32nd Haab of the 100th calendar round\n\nAt long last land, so many months at sea make its pale green color more precious than the most lustrous jade. True, it seems we have drifted to the northern climes, and the sun sets early here making accurate cartographic notes difficult to collect. I believe we have must have reached the lands of our northern neighbors. So long as the truce has held since last we made land we should be safe to remain here for the night and come morning we can take a more accurate reading of our latitude and collect our bearings. Until then, let this be a record for posterity… a journey around our planet can be completed by the will of Gukumatz and the seas great forbearance.\n\n....................................\n\n53rd day 32nd Haab of the 100th calendar round\n\nIt would seem that I have made an error. When we checked our position with the rising sun we were in fact in the far north, but with the same light it has become obvious to see that this land is not that of the Hopi nor any others that might be found on the west coast of that war-torn continent. \n\nSome of the men have been out on the mossy shores for a quick game, a liberty I could hardly deny them after so long a voyage. As they played, sticks in hand, we were approached by one of the people who must inhabit this place. At first it was difficult to make out his features due to the light fog, but as he drew closer the striking paleness of his skin set him out as an altogether different beast from our or even the American peoples. I am willing to speculate as to his humanity, but he dressed unlike any I have seen before. On his legs, he wore a kind of clothing that tightly wrapped around both legs with nothing on his torso, and when he spoke I could not understand even the most basic of his syllables.\nPeculiarly he seemed to pay no attention to the fire arms pointed in his direction, as though unfamiliar with their nature. I did however notice he seemed to hesitate as my hand rested on the ceremonial obsidian blade at my waist. Clearly his are a people not unfamiliar with conflict\n\nSome of the men wanted to detain him for questioning, but on my order I have allowed him to return from whence he came. I have sent a few others out to follow and scout for signs of more of the inhabitants.\n\n....................................\n\n\n59th day 32nd Haab of the 100th calendar round\n\nFor days there has been nothing, we have not encountered any other party near the ship, and we have not dared to venture further inland without proper surveys from the forward scouts. Some of the men still believe this to be an elaborate trap set up by the Americans, but this seems beyond their level of cunning. We will wait another day for the return of our scouts, if they do not return I will need to come up with a further plan of action.\n\n....................................\n\n\n59th day 32nd Haab of the 100th calendar round addendum\n\nThey are here. Not the scouts… well not most of the scouts. It seems hard to count a man’s head as the return of that man. Bearing these memento mori is a small troop of soldiers, for I assume that’s what they are. They wear metal armor like our warriors of old, and bear long painted wooden weapons almost twice as tall as the men themselves. They sit aback a creature not unlike llamas, but taller and sturdier. \n\n....................................\n\n\n60th day 32nd Haab of the 100th calendar round\n\nQuetzalcoatl is sated this day. By night the camp fires of the natives glinted off their primitive armor. The strange symbols on their helmets are clear in my mind, caught by the light of the fire. The memory remains clear for their oddity; however, I cannot speak highly of their luster for it seems that these natives rarely cleaned their weaponry.\n\nIn the morning, what I can only assume was an emissary approached our camp bearing a symbol seen on many of the helmets. A cross on a necklace, a longer vertical bar with a smaller orthogonal piece mounted about ¼ of the way from the top. He held this in front of him as though trying to ward us off, and uttered a series of words that sounded like a command. His language rang differently than that of the original native, but with such an unseemly tong it is hard to tell them apart. When we showed no sign of a response a second envoy approached bearing the remains of our scouts and threw them at our feet.\n\nDiscipline is critical but under the circumstances I can understand the actions of my lieutenant, he will not be disciplined. The round pierced easily through the plate meant to take the blow of an obsolete weapon and the envoy fell from his mount. When the army across the field from us saw him fall from the large llama like creature they began a disorganized charge. \n\nThe details are as one might imagine when such primitives go against the full Mayan might, but those who survived have been collected and thrown into the ships hold. Many more of them were wearing that strange symbol and seem now to cling to it in hope. For the moment, I have ordered that they be allowed to keep it, but the rest of their weapons have been collected. Docile natives are far less of a threat to our expedition. The steal of their blades makes an inferior edge, but even a dull blow to the head can be fatal. \n"
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[WP] "I'm not as strong as I used to be..."
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"The rubble of the house covered his body like a tomb, he could let go or try again. Although, letting go seemed so much more pleasing, like a massage for his soul. \n\n\"Get up,\" The voice shouted, \"Get the fuck up and fight me.\"\n\nHis head slowly moved forward and some rocks fell down his back, he could feel the air coming in from one of holes around him. The sun was setting and the wind blew on the plains of what used to be a quaint and quiet town.\n\n\"Is this what your life is now? A series of threats and retribution for something that was told to you?\" He put his hand on the stone that pinned his body and pushed with all his might, \"Its.. Like you just needed a reason to be angry, and fighting me was going to bring some resolution.\"\n\n\"It will give me at least a piece of mind.\" He turned on his armor chassis, and hit hissed as it initiated it's fight mode. \"Someone needs to give this world a leader it deserves, and sometimes that requires a hostile take over and instillment of a dictator.\"\n\n\"Follow your own path, Kinnear. Believe in your own abilities, choices.. Have some fucking faith in yourself.\" The stone slab fell to the ground and rolled down to the second floor. His body was tattered to hell, a blow from his equipment broke two ribs and torn some of his muscles on his left arm, and using throwing knives and sickles had cut his clothes and skin. He looked like shit, but it revealed his body modifications. He had turned his body into a electrical conduit and was able to manipulate lightening, with only the cost of burning his body depending on how big the energy output.\n\nKinnear gave a belly laugh as he looked at the man who stood before him, \"Holy fuck, what happened to you?! You're so fucking weak! You look like a old man now!\" He pulled out a CQC knife and brass knuckle, this was their final engagement.\n\n\"Kinnear, you don't need to do this.\" He pulled out a roll of wire he used from his old days. \"I've seen you as a kid, you're a good guy capable of kind action and intelligent, don't do this.\"\n\n\"Sometimes, when your worn down, forgotten by people who say they care for, and then being abused on all facets to the point of wanting death, it shows you who you truly are. I know I am a coward, and I will show you that you are too!\" The 6'4\" man with a armor chassis coming directly towards you, with a 4x strength boost, would be terrifying to any other person. For him, especially in his prime, it was just another day.\n\n\"I'm sorry I failed you\", he his hands moved so fast they created an after image and the sounds of string being strung about the area filled the room, reeling and clicking. It happened very fast; punches, counters, snaps, the chassis taking heavy damage, and the sounds of electricity being thrown. By the time they were about done, the whole second, third, fourth and fifth floors hand collapsed, the rubble was being used as fodder. \n\n\"Ha!\" He said walking up to his old idol with his arm pinned behind an enormous shard of metal. Kinnear's armor chassis was almost fully destroyed except for the left arm, he was missing fingers, one of his ears was sliced clean, his hair was singed on his face, and he was limping. \"Your too slow old man, Ha! Ha-ha-ha-ha! The great Dylan 'The Nex' Ellis, the man who rides lightening. DOWN! WHOOO!\"\n\n\"Heh heh heh, I'm not as strong as I used to be... punk.\" Dylan's eye was crushed on one side and blood was tearing out, his mouth was bleeding, his bone was showing under the pinned arm, one of his legs was distorted and bent in a manner it shouldn't have been, and the wiring in his stomach was showing, torn out from the fight. Kinnear stomped one good blow on the metal shard and Dylan shouted in agony, he fell the ground and his arm started to gush blood. \"I'm sorry, Kinnear... Although, I suppose this was always meant to be the way this was suppose to happen.\"\n\nKinnear laughs manically, \"DESTINY!? You believe in Destiny!? I never would have thought.\"\n\n\"Everyone needs something to believe in to keep going, even if it's themselves.\" Kinnear rolls him over and picks up his body, \"Whatever you are looking for, its not going to help you. When you finally find it, it will either destroy you or you will become what you were suppose to be...\"\n\nKinnear wraps his hand his throat with his left and crushes it, he watches as the life leaves his old master's eyes. 'I guess he really wasn't a coward,' he drops his lifeless body on the ground and picked up a heavy stone. \"It's too late for belief old man, and I'll make sure they never bring you back, again!\"\n\nThe stone hit once with a heavy squish, and again, then again, and finally knocking on the floor could be heard. The knocks continued for a while and echoed through the building."
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Feel free to write about your conversation with God, you trying to explain what you learned to people, the process of killing each and every snake, etc. Whatever you fancy.
If this prompt is so weird that it just becomes uninteresting, sorry.
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[WP] You achieve enlightenment and manage to speak to God, and you ask Him what is the meaning of all human life. As it turns out, it's not to achieve happiness, progress as a civilization, or anything of the sort, but to kill every single snake on Earth.
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"The light was blinding, much like the Komodo 3000 in that Malcolm in the Middle episode, Dude at Ranch. \n\nBut there was so much I wanted to know. So many questions remained unanswered, and I knew He would know. I tightened my focus and began my inquisition. \n\n\"Lord, I ask you to bestow upon me the might of your knowledge. For I have toiled endlessly in order to achieve enlightenment. My only desire is to understand the inner workings of your mind, and gain the answer to every question I have been incapable of solving myself.\" \n\nThe light flickered for a moment, and then a voice spoke. It was almost monotonous. Not Ben Stein monotonous, but surely not as grandiose and bellowing as mankind has envisioned for centuries. \n\n\"Matthew, I applaud your endurance in your quest to achieve your enlightenment. For that reason, I will grant you your desire to understand me, my decisions, and the way of the world. Please, what is your first question?\" \n\nI choked on my saliva as I tried to clear my throat. \n\n\"Lord, I'm sure you could predict my first question, so I will not beat around the bush. What **is** the meaning of life?\" \n\nHe chuckled a little, almost as if he was foreshadowing that a humorous story was going to be the explanation. \n\n\"Okay, Matt, if you won't beat around the bush, neither will I. It's quite a funny story.\" \n\n\"Ahem.\" \n\n\"So this was a few thousand years ago. I had descended for a weekend away from the Sacred Gentleman's Club, since Horus and Neptune were being all pompous about their recent success on the golf course in the years prior. I needed some time to focus myself before the annual tournament. Simple stuff, really.\" \n\nI felt myself frown in my subconscious. *He can't be serious with this*, I thought. \n\n\"Anyway, so I found myself in the Middle East, taking a stroll through a market in Egypt. Those Egyptians have always been so resourceful. I mean, shit, they built those pyramids without any technology whatsoever! Who does that, right?\" \n\nHe paused. \n\n\"Sorry. So I'm looking at this one booth, the merchant is selling some jewelry and trinkets and whatnot, and in the adjacent booth, this musician starts playing his horn, making a snake dance out of a wicker basket. That's a real thing that happened, no kidding. So I walk over, and decide to have a watch. It's really exciting stuff, seeing those cobras shake it like that. But then, the guy strikes a sour note, and the snake just loses it. He's throwing a fit in this basket, trying to get out, and then all of a sudden, it flies out and chomps down on my forearm. Here.\" \n\nHe rolls up his left sleeve, and reveals a couple of bite scars on his arm. \n\n\"Okay, I know you can't see them *that* well, because the healing powers, but they are still there.\" \n\nHe returns his sleeve to its original position, and carries on. \n\n\"So I grab a few drinks from this other merchant, high quality stuff, and return to the Club later in the week. So we're all sitting around, drunk off of our asses, and I tell the guys the story. Eventually, we get to this discussion about how useless snakes *actually* are. They have no arms, no legs, their brains are tiny, and all they do is eat and poison stuff. We established that we couldn't just wipe them out, because the humans would notice that. You folk are so perceptive, I did too well on all that.\" \n\nHe laughs again. It wasn't *that* funny. \n\n\"So Zeus leans over, and whispers in my ear. *\"Hey, why don't you just impose some sort of end-game goal for these people to try to figure out? I mean, they're always praying to you for help, so how about you get them off your ass by giving them this chore. Just a measly bit of Godly influence to quell their whining?\"* And my face just lights up like *\"Holy shit, Zeus, that's the best! I will definitely do that.\"*\" \n\nAt this point, he's just pissing himself laughing. God eventually pulls himself together and finishes up. \n\n\"And that's that. The meaning of life is to rid the world of snakes. You've done well to achieve enlightenment and whatnot, but yeah... Grab a shovel and get whackin'. Are there any other questions you would like me to answer, Matthew?\" \n\nI cringe, and muster up every syllable I could. \n\n\"No, thank you.\" \n\n*****\n\nBest I could come up with. God is a bro, I guess. Also, my name isn't actually Matthew, but it qualifies as a biblical name, so I worked it in."
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[WP] You've been secretly filmed from birth to age 30. You're a huge celebrity due to the documentary of your life airing years ago. Broken into seasons, the documentary is about to air it's last episode. You start packing so you can get far away before the world knows the horrible truth about you.
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"“So Brad, it’s been five years since you became aware of the ground breaking documentary that the entire planet has been obsessed with for the last 29 seasons. It’s beautiful and spiritual and everything that TV was made for.” Kelly Jenson paused for a moment, “I still can’t believe it’s the final season. What can we expect? No spoilers mind you… that is unless you feel compelled to let us in on that little secret the studio has kept under wraps all this time.” She winks at the audience and laughter filled the studio.\n\nNot minding the daytime talkshow cameras pointed in his direction, Brad chuckled along with Kelly. “Well… I can’t let the cat out of the bag just yet on that one Kelly, but I’ll be sure to come back after the season to give you a full recap.” Brad knew he wouldn’t. If everything went according to plan, no one would find him. \n\n“But for now Kelly,” Brad continued, “All I can say is, you better get ready for one of the greatest seasons of television ever to air. Who am I kidding – the absolute greatest season ever to air!” \n\nThe applause sign flashed, but it wasn’t necessary. The audience cheered and would cheer for anything Brad said or did. The studio lucked into Brad’s celebrity. He could have been a dorky kid or even worse, a psychopath killing cats on TV. But it wasn’t the case. Everything worked out perfectly as far as the studio was concerned. The cute baby who captivated the world in the first season developed into the kid a generation of girls proudly displayed on their bedroom posters. By his mid 20s he had gained a complexity that the audience could latch onto. There was something beyond what was seen on the screen, almost like a mystery, but one that surrounded an inherently popular and well liked character - a studio’s dream. Now at the age of 34, he was as handsome as ever with a face known to millions. He was everyone’s best friend, sibling, and son. \n\n“Look Kelly, I’m going to let you into one secret right now ,” a secret the studio already approved, but the world didn’t need to know that, “At some point this season, I will be naked on camera.” The crowd lost their collective mind while Kelly subtly glances into Brad’s eyes hoping to hear more. “I gave my permission to the studio for just this one season – but you’ll have to tune in to find out what episode.” Brad's sly smile that the world grew to know and love spread across his face.\n\nThe monitor flashed for a commercial break, and Kelly jerked her attention away from Brad to smile at the camera, “Stay tuned everyone to see the first man sized parakeet! It’s coming up next.”\n\nAs Brad left the stage, Kelly leaned in to kiss him on the cheek – she wanted this kiss to reach beyond ‘all part of the job’ to actual affection, but Brad was in such a hurry he merely pecked her quickly and ran off. Exiting through the garage, Brad avoided the green room – he didn’t want to be seen by anyone as he left. He’s been seen too much already.\n\nJumping into his car, he picked up his phone and dialed the number. It only rang once before the line was picked up, “It’s a gentle rain on this side of town.” Brad knew what to say and quickly responded, “I heard it would be a sunny day.” It was time.\n\nBrad peeled away from the studio and turned on the news, “…iddle East peace will be absolute and all the weapons will be destroyed. The leaders informed the world that the main reason the violence has finally subsided was becaus … Wait… Breaking news - This just in - the final season of Brad’s World will feature an episode where Brad McManus will be nude. I repeat th…” Brad flipped the radio off. \n\nHe checked his phone – the funds have been transferred. \n\nHe continued driving south. Won’t be long now, it won’t be long now. His phone dinged and dinged again – alert after alert showed up. Now it was ringing. The studio was calling. He threw the phone out the window.\n\n----------------------------\n\n“Brad McManus fooled us all,” Kelly said to Dr. Richard Palfour. “As a society, how are we to cope?”\n\n“In my professional opinion Ms. Jenson,” Dr. Palfour responded, “we simply won’t.”\nThe audience was silent. Dr. Palfour continued, “The one thing we can learn from this though, is that no one is perfect. No one can be trusted to be let into all of our hearts the way we allowed Brad. But it is clearly too late in this particular case to change anything. We can only fight.”\n\n“…but I still don’t know how he kept it hidden from everyone for so long.” Kelly interjected. She held her tears back, professionalism still matters even after the incident. “I mean… he was just a baby when he started on the show. We saw everything.”\n\n“Not everything,” said Ed Snievel, the studio executive. He moved his glasses up to his eyes. “We never entered bathrooms, locker rooms, and anywhere where he could later point to and use as an invasion of privacy.”\n\n“…and that’s exactly how he was able to hide it.” Dr. Palfour continued, “You see Ms. Jenson. Brad was never as well adjusted as we thought...”\n\n“Apparently not.” Kelly interrupted.\n\n“Of course,” he sighed, “anyone who grows up in the public’s eye and knows about it for the majority of the time but still conceals that fact – it can wear on a person.” \n\nKelly nods. “So you're saying, he could’ve started his communication to the outside world in the locker-room and bathrooms?”\n\n“Yes. Exactly. Through the pipes, through the walls – his informant could’ve been on set the entire time, and he would have been made aware by the informant in only secluded areas. “\n\n“In that case, the whole thing might as well have been scripted” Kelly concluded.\n\nDr. Palfour smiles, “You’re correct again Ms. Jenson. Now that he knew, and he must’ve known early on, he was able to adjust the direction of the show, follow his progress on Reddit message boards, and see what the public was saying about him. It is also how he hooked up with his network overseas.”\n\nThe look of fear passed over Kelly’s eyes. The same fear everyone felt in their gut when they think of Brad nowadays and his power. \n\n“It was how he developed the disdain for our society he clearly has shown. We imprisoned him, Ms. Jenson. It was our own fault. We stole his life and only we are to blame. That is why our loved ones are overseas fighting this ugly war. We created his influence in this world, we held him against his will for our entertainment, and now we are facing the consequences.\n\n“That episode, the one where we now know the note he shows to the screen in his bathroom mirror was directed to his Middle East contacts to arise and attack… it only took a few minutes for social media to come in and translate the true meaning of that note. But by that time, it was too late. Our society was doomed, and Brad – the same Brad that we felt was family and now controls the Middle East all the way up through Eastern Europe - that Brad was gone. Missing for months already. We now know he was establishing his control, meeting his generals, and plotting his world takeover – all for revenge. All because of us and our ‘entertainment’.”\n\nKelly Jenson looks at the seat where Dr. Palfour now sits – where Brad once sat - but quickly shifts her attention up to the audience when the commercial break sign flashes on the monitor, \"Stay tuned. How to decorate your bomb shelter. Just because you're sad, doesn't mean it needs to be drab! Coming up next.\" The commercials roll.\n\n**edit: changed last paragraph. Didn't like it earlier. Also some word choice and other general edits**\n"
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[WP] The first extraterrestrial contact with Earth is from an alien species that resemble pumpkins. One of the first pieces of human culture they identify is the Jack-o-Lantern.
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"\"Oh hey! they already know about us!\"\n\n\"what? how?\"\n\n\" I don't know but it says here right on their own information network that jack-o-lanterns have been a staple of some human tradition for about a hundred years now.\"\n\n\"Really?.. what are these \"Jack-O-lanterns\" made of?\"\n\n\"They take these large orange gourds most commonly referred to as pumpkins and carve many different things in to em', most commonly crude faces that sometimes resemble us. other times things like popular characters in their fictional stories... This is absolutely intriguing, we should make contact.\"\n\nThe two aliens stare out the porthole of the alien ship, They both resembled pumpkins with facial features carved in to the surface. Both contemplating weather to contact the humans or their ruler, Pump-KING first whichever one they chose to contact, they knew it would most likely start a long, healthy relationship between the two species.\n________________________________________________________________\n\n Authors note: You never said they didn't look like jack-o-lanterns either.\nAlso this was my fist post of a story on this sub and first real story I have ever written, so any criticism would be appreciated :D"
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[WP] You just attempted suicide, only to discover that you can regenerate from any injury. Jealous of mortals, you dedicate your existence to inflicting the cruelest fate you can imagine on them. Life.
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"I fell splat. I could feel my skull open for a while and let some blood out, and then close all by itself. Just a minute later, I was back on my feet. But I fucking fell from 75 storeys. And I shouldn't be alive! \n\n\n\"this explains how the cuts that the bullies made disappeared in seconds \" - I say to myself. But I never wanted to live. I wanted to die! Real fast. \n\n\n\n\nFast forward 3 weeks, I now work for a billionaire, who hires me for the sole reason to nag and irritate the people he hates. And since I cannot die, I make the perfect employee for such an instance. But it's not for the money that I am in. I have become a sadist. I hate the fact that these people can choose to die anytime they want. And I cannot. \n\n\n\n\nMy current mission is to sneak into Lady Gaga's house and annoy the hell out of her. Apparently my boss doesn't like the way she dresses and her voice. I approach her gate. Watchmen stop me. \" Sir, you can't go inside. \"\n\n\n\" Oh, so you wanna fight huh. Come, please, kill me already! \" \n\nI then went on to hit the watchmen, and in return they started hitting me too. An advantage that I found after realizing my power was that I could increase or decrease the speed with which I heal. *but I can never stop the healing factor!* \n\nI take their heads and bang them with each other's till they fell asleep. I opened the gates and went inside. \n\n\nNow, one might think that just directly approaching that lady would mean nothing. I can tease her for a while, and then the cops would come. But I was hired for this shit. And I know my job. The only reason I used the main gate was to hit those watchmen. They looked ugly. \n\nA person is a slave to their habits. And over the last week, I made a note of all habits that Gaga nurtured. She would first wake up and then take a piss, after which she'll brush her teeth. I sneak through her window and find her asleep. I replace her toothpaste with concentrated salt mixture. Then I replace her soap with the one that's guaranteed to make your body itch like hell after some minutes. \n\nThe rest followed : Replacing her towels with rough and barby ones. \n\nReplacing her wine with cranberry juice. \n\nHiding legos all beneath the carpets of her dressing room. \n\nChanging her phone to an identical one, but she won't have anything that she originally did :P \n\nTaking all her available cash and soaking it in water. \n\nCut the armpits of her tops and butts of her jeans. \n\nI felt relieved. I then installed some cameras in her house and quickly left. I called my boss saying that now he can watch her cry all day. Well, I was gonna join in that premiere too! \n\n\n\n*if you like this story, I could write a part 2. Suggestions and feedback please*\n\nEdit : Will post part 2 tomorrow. \n\n"
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[WP] "How can you save anybody if you can't even save yourself?"
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"I stood panting, leaning on my sword so that I wouldn't fall over. He was powerful, more powerful than I imagined. He balanced his sword across his shoulders, the very image of confidence. He sauntered forwards, slowly, never breaking eye contact with me. He stopped ten feet away, and lowered his sword.\n\n\"Do you see now how futile this was? You can't beat me, I've become much too strong for you to handle. You want to save the world? Don't make me laugh. How can you save anybody if you can't even save yourself? You need power to save people, and that is what you lack.\"\n\n\"And I suppose that you'd have me believe that everything that you've done, every atrocity that you've committed, that it was all in the name of gaining the power necessary to save the world?\"\n\nA dangerous glint appeared in his eyes. \"It really rather depends on your definition of 'save the world'. There are those who would argue that the only way to save the world is to wipe every last human off of its face. But I still have faith. I still believe that humanity can redeem itself. If that changes, then I'll try to kill everyone, but, for now, I'm content with just amassing power for such an eventuality. Is that so wrong?\"\n\n\"It's not your goal that I object to, it's your methods. You kill countless people on a whim, just so that you can be that little bit stronger. I swear this to you. I will always try to stop you, I will not rest until mankind is safe from you.\" I lift my sword up, and mustering all of my strength, I charge in and swing at him.\n\nHe blocks by grabbing the wrist of my sword hand with his off hand. I slump, all of my strength spent, and I wait for the final blow, knowing that this was my end. He released my hand, and chuckled. I looked up at him, my sword lying on the ground beside me, too confused even to ask why he's laughing.\n\n\"You've got spirit, I'll admit that. And I think you have potential too. Very well, I shall spare you. Not because I think that you're right, not out of the goodness of my heart, but because I think that you'll be a great sparring partner one day. So train yourself, get stronger, lots stronger, and always come after me. If you can be stronger than I am, without the 'atrocities' that I commit, then I'll admit that you're right. And if not, well, You can still feel good about trying to stop me. Now, I'll be seeing you around. I hope that you give me more of a challenge next time, kid.\"\n\nHe sheathed his sword at his hip, and turned away. As I watched him walk away, my consciousness faded, and I knew no more. The next thing that I was aware of was waking up surrounded by healers. They called me a hero for driving him back, but that wasn't true. I was just some weak kid, who he had taken an interest in. And I knew one thing for sure. I wasn't going to stay weak."
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I've been thinking, and have been practicing on this prompt myself. The story I've written thus far is getting pretty lengthy.
Super excited to see any replies. Have fun!
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[WP] Very few people in the world are born with unique, strange abilities. Yours is the ability to hear the music of people's souls.
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"Laura was kneeling on the grimy flagstones of the street, examining the latest victim. A gaping wound ran across his neck and the letter 'M' had been cut into his forehead. She forced down her desire to be sick at the sight of the gaping wound, and examined his patched clothing with a faded red shoulder badge noting the cryptic series of letters written in blood next to him. She carefully took of his shoulder badge and read what was written on the reverse, 'Peter More, B Negative, Mutant'. She stood up and tried unsuccessfully to brush the grime off her trousers. Her partner walked over to her, looking disdainfully at her.\n\n\"That's the third murder in this area this month. Is it the same as the other two?\"\n\nLaura nodded \"Yes, his throat was cut and a 'M' was cut into his forehead\"\n\n\"And the numbers?\"\n\n\"There as well and different again\"\n\n\"Go and see if any of the local residents know anything\"\n\nLaura nodded and walked away from him towards the nearest building, she could hear other police units arriving now. The building was a large grey imposing structure roughly cut from the stone of the cavern and was one of several sounding the dim square where the body had been found. There would be large numbers of people crammed in each one sometimes whole families to a room. Which was why he sent her to question them, she could question them a lot faster than any of the other officers. It was how she had managed to join the police thay certainly would not of taken her otherwise.\n\nShe had reached the building and lent against the rough rock next to the imposing metal doors. Laura closed her eyes and concentrated. The music started, it had overwhelmed when she heard it for the first time but now she had learnt how to focus on one song at a time. Thay sang of the person it belonged to, of their fears their hopes their experiences and their innermost desires. The music of their soul. Carefully she focused the songs on last night. Nothing. The walls were too thick for them to hear anything and the cavern too badly lit for them to see anything.\n\nShe gradually went around each of the buildings, listening and focusing. Each time nothing but the sad stories of their occupants. Laura sighed and walked back to her partner who had watched her completing her loop, his eyes disapproving and untrusting. She shook her head at him. He turned away and began talking to one of the forensics officers. Laura turned and walked to the caverns exit, playing with her red shoulder badge."
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[WP] Three witnesses give police statements about an incident they've witnessed. The stark differences between their stories begin to tell a story of their own.
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"I’m in two minds whether to even bother recording today’s mishaps. After all, a record already exists, thanks to yours truly slaving away under the beating eyes of Sergeant Ramsbottom, committing pen to paper between the hours of seven and ten in the second cell (no ensuite) of the Garrington Abbas Police Station. Fat use it is now, of course, unless the constabulary should have any need to retrieve it from the dredges of the waste-paper basket, should they suddenly encounter a shortage of kindling, or fancy a well-aimed pot-shot at the desk sergeant’s helmet. The hours spent wasting ink on that blasted statement this morning are lost, never recoverable, they have had their song and the coffin is truly nailed shut. The mourners have dried their eyes, the vicar has shed his layers and the choirboys have already spent their fee in the village tuck shop. Perhaps, therefore, I should continue, even if only for posterity’s sake.\n\nIt had started well, with Mungo, Carrington and myself all agreeing that on no account should any of us even consider mentioning the fact that Lady Rita, who of course owned the dratted dog, had come to us that very morning after her motor car had given up the go. With no juice in the little nipper, and a deadline of noon by which she had hoped to be hanging off Lord Bridges’ arm on the eighth hole, Lady Rita had first alerted us of her presence through the unwelcome and unsubtle use of the horn, heralding her arrival and announcing her desire for a parlay. It was therefore only by way of a reluctant caving in to correct feudal custom that the three of us (Mungo, Carrington and myself) found ourselves entering negotiations on the driveway, barely an hour after sunrise and several still before one normally entertains breakfast, our nightshirts proving quite insufficient at resisting the harsh East Anglian winds.\n\nNo, Sergeant Ramsbottom was told nothing of Lady Rita and our near-nocturnal negotiations for petrol. I was first in, and stuck to the story as if it were my very own (which, of course, it was). Carrington was next in, and I can only believe that he provided the sergeant with the same unbecoming expression of sheer disbelief, surprised that he might be accused of being part of this dreadful crime, and wholly dismayed that anyone might think that he and his nearest and dearest friends would be anywhere near an illegal betting ring, let alone offering odds for how long it would take Lord Bridges to boot his caddy up the rear-end (7/3, ante-post, no bets after the the bunker on the seventh hole). Carrington’s story was as watertight as a nun’s britches and I should know, for this was not the first time we had manufactured alibis to escape sanction. Never before had we performed this routine with the police, only ever prefects or housemasters suspecting us of passing forward after the scrum, but still the same principles and dramatic panache applied.\n\nMungo proved to be the hole in our wineskin, the back path at Thermopylae through which Sergeant Ramsbottom led his Persian hordes. He apparently began well, feigning the same ignorance when questioned on his prior encounters with Lady Rita and her pet poodle. But as was always the case with Mungo, his bottom lip would have begun to waver once he caught glimpse of the handcuffs attached to the belt of the beefy sergeant. You see, men like Mungo exist solely to argue over the finer details of heraldic pageantry, or to debate the life cycles and mating rituals of the common English water vole. Standing up to His Majesty’s Constabulary is not their forte, and before long Mungo would have been turning the same whitish shade of blanche seen also in the coat of the soon-to-depart canine companion of Lady Rita. \n\nThe floodgates opened once the sergeant cast Mungo’s eye to the frankly less-than-ideal toilet facilities of a typical police cell - we had been allowed back into the cell by this point to witness and explain our friend’s collapse - and gripped by a puritanical fear of perjury, Mungo spun his story away from our pre-planned route. We had indeed met Lady Rita earlier that morning, we had provided her with petrol from our own motorcars, we had followed her to the golf course with the aim to remediate our curiosity. We had indeed been located in the bushes by the ninth hole’s fairway, counting our ill-gotten gains after Lord Bridges had indeed aimed a well-aimed boot up at his caddy before Hole Eight. Yes, we understood that by procuring bets on such an event, we made the liklihood of public disturbance ever more likely, yes we understood that Lord Bridges’ poor aim was not due to criminal intention but rather the shrapnel embedded in his thigh since Gallipoli, and yes we therefore accepted near-full responsibility for the resulting bringing together of dog and boot, in an unfortunately obvious one-sided duel.\n\nPresenting as public nuisances and accessories to canine cessation were the eventual charges, with a fifty-pound fine handed down by the magistrate. Of course, the fine is mere pennies compared to a lifetime with Lady Rita on my arm, five or six assorted little sproglets climbing up my legs, all bearing their mother’s frightful overbite and passion for cross-stitching poodles. For with Lord Bridges thoroughly displeased with the news that the dog’s demise was due to none other than yours truly avec duex amis (Mungo, Carrington and myself), Lady Rita is of course set to refocus her sights on a new potential husband. At least I can trust that Carrington will prove a noble batman by my side and deliver a stonking speech. Mungo will be lucky if he’s allowed anywhere near the church."
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[this concept came from this post second response](https://m.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/5a61gc/wp_the_zombie_epidemic_came_and_went_in_the/)
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[WP] This is just an average day as a member of mercenaries without borders.
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"Tommy never looked so bored in all the time I'd known him. Granted, this is the first time I had seen him where neither of us were shooting at something or someone.\n\nYou'd think the biggest problem during a zombie apocalypse would be the zombies. Hell to the no. The worst part is the shits still alive. Running around, screaming, hoping to save their children. Save your voice, we can't do anything for you. \n\n\"Raul, what do you think of all the zombies? Do you think the person they once were understands whats going on?\"\nI felt a shiver sneaking up on me. The kind you get when you feel like your getting watched even though you know no one else is there. I hushed him and Tarzan. Tarzan was a local that we'd picked up. He was called Tarzan because he was raised by... well he was raised by zombies. He doesn't really talk to us about it much.\n\"You feel that?\" Tarzan nods in silence, but Tommy's bushy blonde eyebrows scrunch together as he listens for things. I hear a growl. A woman and two small children come out and get on their knees hands clasped \n\"Please, I don't ask for much, just please, save us from the horde\"\n\"Goddamn it\" I mutter as I push her and her two children to the ground as me and my colleagues open fire at the small horde approaching. We quickly brought their size down from 40 to 15. Easy, right? Right, up until you run out of bullets and the two runners emerge, tongues out like some dogs on a hot day. I slip my rifle off and pull out my Bowie knife. One slice through the kidneys to look more badass, one at the brainstem as Tarzan shows his expertise in hand to hand combat. Sometimes we worry that he's more zombie than human, the reasoning is that he has the strength, ferocity, and hygiene of a zombie. Don't worry, he sleeps in a separate tent, and it keeps the zombies away at night, so it's not too bad. While me and Tarzan finish the runners, Tommy snipes off the horde. We turn to the lady and her two children only to find them pointing my gun at me. It was clear that she wasn't just worried about the horde. \n\"Yeah yeah, we won't try anything,\" I said as we walked away. Two hours later we set up camp and called it a day. A very miserable day, but one in which we made a difference"
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First post here! Allow me to elaborate. By donning an costume/outfit not only do you obtain their powers/abilities but also their skills and knowledge. This means even if you wear something more general like a doctor's lab (while they have no super powers) you'll have access to their knowledge and skill. Of course fictional character outfits work too!
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[WP] You can use any powers/abilities associated with a costume/outfit while wearing it. It's Halloween and some teen burglars have broken into your house.
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"\"Haha good job ya dork night\" Brice heard coming from the front of the car \"I do my best blue\" he replied smiling back at Kendra dressed as Supergirl. Giving a small wave as she started to turn and drive off. Walking up the pavement he shivered a little as a cold wind whips across his exposed face reminding Brice what time of year it is. Ready to hang up the cloak for the night his keys jingle as he opens the door relived to be back home.\n\nFlicking on the light should have helped him relax ,but he still felt tense despite being in his own home. But despite that their was a nagging feeling that something was off.. out of place. Unable to figure it out with all the alcohol pumping through his bloodstream Brice put it off going into kitchen to grab some painkillers and water before heading for bed. But as he was pouring himself a glass Brice was again overcome with a feeling that something was missing or had been moved since he had left. \n\nTrying to ignore the misgivings he was having in his own home Brice stopped to calm himself as he shook two pills out of the bottle Before suddenly hearing a barely audible creak come from above him. Letting his paranoia guild him he pulled to hood of the costume back over his face and quietly placed the class and pills on the table. Trying to be as quiet as possible he crept up the stairs making sure to no let any of them creak before knelling at the top of the stairs\n\nStrain his ears against the silences listening for whispers Brice looked at his options. *No car out front, probably small time,didn't know when I'd get back so this was based of sudden opportunity not planing*. With that kind of sloppiness, there was only type of suspect likely to act like this *teenagers* sighing in irritation at the realization his home was broken into for a trick. \n\nBrice decided that since Halloween wasn't technically over for a while he would show them a much better one\n****\nAny criticism welcome"
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[WP] Everybody's shadow reveals their true character. Some are monsters, others are furry animals. You have no shadow.
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"Emotions and intentions\n\nShow through upon the face.\n\nOur actions and inventions\n\nMay grant us pride of place.\n\nThe pain that we have known\n\nis displayed in all our scars.\n\nIt is the shadow alone\n\nThat tells what we really are.\n\nI have seen so many shadows\n\nOver all of my years.\n\nIt seems the darkness knows\n\nOur thoughts, feelings, and fears.\n\nSome take the form of beasts,\n\nwhile others look like trees;\n\nA wise man can learn at least\n\nsomething from what he sees\n\nIn someone's shadow on the ground,\n\nrevealing things, unbidden,\n\nUntil at last the sun goes down,\n\nand our true selves are hidden.\n\nBut something plagues my mind:\n\nas I face the setting sun,\n\nand I turn to look behind\n\nfor a shadow, I see none.\n\nAm I a mere blank slate?\n\nDoes my inner self not show?\n\nWhy am I in this state?\n\nThese things I need to know.",
"No one could explain it: not my parents, my doctors, even people who had studied the field of shadows their entire lives understood me. Its strange to have no charater. You'd expect me to be a vegetable, without conciousness, locked within their own tormented mind for eternity; at least, thats what **they** thought.\n I was a global wonder. “The man with no shadow!” they'd scream. At first it was in awe and curiosity. Then in resentment and bigotry. “The man with no shadow.” they'd say: only in muttered tones, whispering to each other.\n I mean, its not like I'm bad. Fuck, I've seen people with horrors mirrored in the darkness that lies behind them. They're no angel either, far from it. But still... They're not me are they.\n My story is not one of a man who had a unique power and was able to save the world. Save that one for the childrens books. No. My story shows the human nature for what it truly is. They're inability to see past what they see and coexist. The ignorance of difference. The bigotry of the mass...\n\nThis was found in Andrew Sharpen's desk. Alongside his hanging body he left this note. Whether they learn from it, is their choice.\n\nAndrew Sharpen 1985 - 2001\n\nEnd\n\nTHIS WAS WRITTEN ON MOBILE, PLEASE EXCUSE FORMATTING ISSUES."
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[WP] The humanity has invented immortality centuries ago, and the only way to die is suicide. However, it is considered unethical to live for more than 6,000 years, and you are much older than that
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"*I have seen the rise and fall of everything from languages, to civilizations, to people, anything. I remember the old days in 1000 BC when I was born. I was a mere African-European mixed man. Greek mother and Egyptian father. It is now 45000 AD and I grow dreary of existence. I have not talked to anyone in person for 1500 years. My name was Benaiah Kallias Byn-Abram and I-*\n\n> KNOCK\n\nI knocked on the door to make myself not feel lonely. But this time- for the first time in 1500 years, I decided to leave my house and make a friend. \n\n---\n\nApparently, you have to get your age checked since you are now automatically killed after 6500 years! How outrageous. I walk up to the 2000 year old man and he said, \"*1628gramp*? Is that you? Let me activate my universal translator\" I responded to my descendant teary-eyed, \"Yes. I have not seen another human being in 1500 years. Would you like to befriend me and show your old man how to fit in?\" He responded, \"I would like to but-\" He leaned in closer and whispered in my ear, \"Now it is unethical to talk to anyone older than 6000 years. The only option is a rejuvination technique that I can get for you.\" I accepted and it came in the mail 2 days later.\n\nI undertook the alias of Benjamin Kirby Abrahams, a 1900 year old man, under the instructions of my *1628granson* and met up with him on Proxima Centauri B. \n\n---\n\nI will write more tomorrow."
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[WP] I awoke, running down a hallway, no memory of how I got there or why. I just knew that I shouldn't stop.
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"I felt my heart beating 180 no 200 some beats per minute as a sprinted down the narrow hallway. It felt like it was about to explode out of my chest. I could feel each single footstep drive me forward down the hallway that I could see no end to. I do not know how I got here but I knew that if I stopped or even looked back that it would not end well for me. \n\nThe walls began to start caving in on me as I was coming up to a tee at the end of the hallway. What way should I choose? All I knew it was a matter of life or death but I had no way of knowing which way was correct. As I came up on the turn I went right because I could see a glimmer of light on the corner of the wall. When I made the turn I was almost blinded by light and saw a window that was about 50 yards away. I was approaching the window quickly and knew that I must jump through it if I had any chance to survive what ever this ordeal was. I braced myself for impact and flew through the window shattering it into thousand of pieces and then I woke up. \n\n"
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You can also use the Pathfinder RPG instead of DnD, or your favorite RPG, so long as it has something discernibly resembling classes.
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[WP] Write about a career expo... in a setting that uses Dungeons and Dragons classes instead of jobs.
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"Didn't really edit enough, but I'm waiting to join up with my online D&D campaign and I love the prompt. :) \n\nWHAT CLASS ARE YOU?\n\n\nThe sign read in bold over the tavern. What the hell, I thought. Worth a shot. I never really fancied myself as an adventurer, but after my fiance Tina running off with a half-orc I figured I really had nothing to lose and money was tight. I walk into the tavern and it’s not at all what I expected. Here I am, a scrawny human standing at a full 5’8” and a buck eighty soaking wet thinking that’s what will keep me out of the game. I walk in and see orcs and dragon born and elves, all dressed in professional attire having polite conversation at a multitude of booths. There’s a dull roar in the room, but nothing distinct. I walk down the first row and immediately feel under dressed in my dirty tunic and stained stockings. The freshly pressed robes look neat, and even more surprising when I look to see it’s the barbarian’s booth that seems the most clean cut. I look around at all the booths, begging for one that looks like there would be a place I fit in. I start to notice the other job-seekers, and they all seem to have papers and folders in hand, passing things to others. They have resumes. How could I be so woefully unprepared. The only promising booth I see is the rogue class, who are still very nicely dressed but a tad more casual than the rest of the groups. I walk over and meander through the pamphlets sitting out. They read “It’s a Trap! Or it looks like one!” and “Is invisibility right for you?”\n\n\n“See something that catches your eye?” A stout dwarf with a blonde kept beard and short hair approaches me. \n\n\n“I’m not sure, just seeing where I might fit,” I reply, trying not to make eye contact. I always thought rogues to be a bit too shifty for my liking, but then again beggars can’t be choosers can they? It’s not like I fit in with the Adonis looking paladins two booths over, slapping each other’s shoulders with enough force that it might knock me clear across the room. \n\n\n“Well, let me know if you have any questions,” The dwarf moves toward another newcomer who looks much more prepared. Who knew this was going to be a whole interview process?\n\n\nI start to move back toward the exit, now seeing this was a terrible idea. \n\n\n“Psst, over here small fry,” I hear behind the entrance in a dark corner. I walk toward the voice. \n\n\n“What? Who is it?” I walk slowly, unable to see clearly who's trying to get my attention.\n\n\n“You look like you could use some work, what are your specialties?” I squint my eyes to see the man. He’s an elderly gentleman in a ridiculous looking red coat and pink pants with a royal blue hat that looks like a cheap knockoff of the king’s. How I didn't see him before I'm not sure, as it's the loudest outfit I've ever seen. \n\n\n“Specialties?” I ask. “I don’t really know what you mean sir. Why are you dressed so funny?” \n\n\nThe man looks at me with an unsettling toothy grin. I can see his teeth are starting to rot in his mouth and he obviously hasn't showered in a good year. \n\n\n“Do me a favor kid. Think of the best line you can to open up with to a complete stranger looking in need of wares.” He clapped his hands together to punctuate his request and looked at me expectantly. I blinked a few times before really thinking about it. What would I say to some random adventurer in the street? \n\n\n“Umm, how about… Looking a bit down sir, need a few potions for your way?” I do a bit of a half bow and gesture to an imaginary stand of wares, hoping that my body language sells my half-baked pitch. The old man laughs wildly, causing me to stand strait and nervously shuffle closer to the door. \n\n\n“Son, I want to give you a job. All you need to do is say that phrase and sell everything you can. And occasionally make a deal for some junk that comes through. Do you think you could do that?” I couldn't believe my luck. That was probably the worst sales pitch I’d ever heard and somehow I got hired. I nod vigorously while waiting for my voice to catch up. \n\n\n“Sure! Sure mister.. I’m sorry what was your name?” I stick my hand out to shake. \n\n\n“Name is Nick. Nick Patrick Carter to be exact. Most people call me NPC for short. Welcome to the team. What’s your name son?” \n\n\n“Nathan, Nathan Curros. Nice to mean you Nick.” "
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The title is pretty much explanatory, an everyday task that's explained in the most over-the-top way possible.
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[WP] An epic description of a mundane task
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"Today is the day of reckoning. The enemy's forces have grown to the point that there are few that can stand in their way. Save for one. \n\nWith the sun high in the sky, I don my armor and head to the armory. Only the finest of weapons can handle the unrelenting hordes that will fall this day. They are weak when they are alone but they come in numbers unmeasurable. It is only by divine assistance that I even dare to challenge them all.\n\nAfter taking a drink from my goblet of cool water, I decide the time for battle is now. I mount my chariot and prepare for battle. This shall be just one piece of the engine of their destruction.\n\nEven though the sound of my chariot is can be heard for miles, I don't believe the enemy knows of their destruction. Upon reaching the battlefield, I prepare my blade. Forged in the fires of lore and made of the hardest of steels, it is a weapon designed with a specific purpose: decapitation. Millions upon millions of the enemy forces will be decapitated this day. \n\nAs I began moving forward, my blade laid into the enemy, cutting through the front line forces with little effort. Almost as quickly as I had began, the smell of the enemy falling filled my nostrils. Pressing on still, sweat began to bead upon my brow. I could see this would not be a quick battle.\n\nFor hours, I laid waste upon the enemy until finally, I had cut down all that stood before me. The sight was a magnificent one for a warrior such as myself. After taking in the entire scene, I brought my chariot back to the armory. And with that, I had once again stemmed the upraising of the grass people.\n\n*cutting the grass* \nedit:grammar"
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The first space war.
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[WP] Elon Musk is the first to send people to Mars, followed by NASA and Boeing, and then other countries and corporations. Fast forward 200 years, and there is conflict as to who owns what on the planet.
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"As Rive’s atmosphere skipper made the final descent, she checked her safety harness one last time. She’d never left Musk before, no one did, except those in the NavyX and the MerchantX. Too many resources were expended getting a person from point A to point B here on Mars. It was so much more efficient to just use hologram proxies instead.\n\nBut not for this.\n\n“Musk-1, this is Neu Schweiz Actual. You have been cleared for entry at airlock four gamma,” came the soothing AI voice over the comm.\n\n“Thanks,” said Rive, gazing out the window as the bio-sphere came into view. Neu Schweiz wasn’t much, just a simple bio-sphere that encompassed only about two hundred and thirty square kilometers. The most notable feature of the biosphere was the single snow and pine tree covered mountain, a tribute to their Earth ancestors. Compared to Musk, the place was… quaint.\n\nA dignitary standing on what appeared to be a garden path awaited Rive as she disembarked the skipper, “Delegate Eric Reiner,” the young man introduced himself. “Welcome to Neu Schweiz, Ambassador Paglia.”\n\nRive shook his hand, but sighed on the inside. Was she being insulted by having this puppy assigned to her? Not that she was that old herself… but she was a prodigy damnit!\n\n“I’m actually sixty-three,” Reiner said, a smile on his face. He had read her dismay. “We may not be the economic or military powerhouses of the other Martian Coalition Members, but there are advantages to living here. Let’s see how you look in thirty years.”\n\nRive closed her gaping mouth, “Of course. Everyone knows about your… proprietary technology. It’s just so disconcerting to see it in person.”\n\nReiner shrugged as he motioned her down the well manicured pathway, “If it makes you feel better, I had a similar reaction when I saw Musk. The scale of it…” he gazed up at his own tiny mountain, “Truly marvelous. Or the Boeing shipyards! Even after the war it is still a marvel.”\n\nAs the path twisted to the right, a cabin came into view. Reiner smiled, “Such grand marvels are all over Mars. Such testaments to the human spirit and ingenuity. It was no wonder that we split from Earth. It is the foregone conclusion of any colony that it must one day stand on its own.”\n\nRive bristled a little at this. Neu Schweiz had remained neutral throughout the twelve year conflict, and they were reaping the rewards: Freedom from Earth and not a single hull breach in their backwards bio-sphere. They just lived in peace, secure in the knowledge that only they could grant eternal youth.\n\n“Welcome to Garstoldt Chalet,” said Reiner, interrupting Rive from her thoughts, \n\n“I’m afraid that the congress has already begun, so you won’t have a chance to freshen up.”\n\n“That’s fine,” said Rive, “I’m not here for vacation.”\n\n***\n\n“Madame Rive Paglia,” announced the doorman as Rive walked in.\n\nAn older looking man with tattoos and several face piercings started a slow clap, “About time. I thought we’d have to have this shindig without you.”\n\n“Director Urashima,” Rive said as she made a quick bow, “So good to see you again. I look forward to working with the Sony Collective.”\n\nUrashima scoffed as he took a drag on his vapor stick, blowing white billowing clouds from his nostrils. Next to Urashima was someone that Rive had only heard of via reputation.\n\n“Admiral Rao, Mars is forever in your debt,” Rive offered, as Boeing’s fleet commander nodded his head to her.\n\nRive went around and greeted each of the other ten representatives to the first Mars Congress, getting warm receptions from most of them. Except one.\n\nDressed in the archaic Earth Style of a dark blue pantsuit that signaled her collective’s refusal to accept the new world order, Agent Andrews looked pissed to be there. She refused Rive’s hand and instead said, “The people of NASA refute the independence of Mars and hold this ‘Congress’ in contempt. We are loyal to the United States of America and are proud citizens.”\n\nAlarmed, Rive looked around the table. Admiral Rao shook his head, “That’s the only thing she’s said since she sat down. But at least they are at the table, so… that’s a start.”\n\n“You want me to say something else, you blow hard!?” growled Andrews, “How about four fifths of you are here because of American money, technology or assistance? Or that until this war started you were receiving American Aid? The embargo that you’ve placed on American goods is—“\n\n“Agent Andrews,” interrupted Rao, “When in the Course of human events it becomes necessary for one people to dissolve the political bands which have connected them with another…”\n\nThe room broke into laughter as Andrews turned red and sat down.\n“Now, Ambassador Paglia,” continued Rao, “shall we begin?”\n"
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Sky's the limit folks
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[WP] Write a story with a ridiculous premise and end with "and that's how I met my husband/wife."
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"I was using the lavatory on my flight to Tucson...\n\nA man stood up and stepped into the aisle. He yelled for every one to stay seated. The gun in his hand was as black as his eyes. There was a scream from the cockpit and a little jolt. \"Hold on!\" the man yelled at the passengers. \nJust then I walked out of the bathroom. Shocked I looked at the panic stricken faces of strangers. \"What are you doing? Get to your seat now!\" I had to pass him, my heart beat almost out of my chest as I stepped forward. Then a sudden dip of the plane sent me stumbling into the terrorists' arms. I looked up at him. Such dark eyes...\nAnd that's how I met my husband."
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[WP] you wake up to a hole in your chest in a zombie apocalypse where 19% of people are alive, 80% are mindless zombies and 1% including you are dead yet sentient
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"I look at the dangerous creature that my followers have changed to the wall, I've been notified that it has killed many of my people and it would be unwise to keep it alive. But I won't kill it yet, I want to study this specimen. I've met it before. \n\"Erin my dear sister!\" \n\"Stephen?\" She squeaks. \nPerhaps low on its fuel source. The human looks at me with its dull eyes, the eyes dart around the room no don't searching for a weapon. All she spots is zombie asleep on the floor. \n\"I haven't seen you in four years sis what do you think of my heart hole?\"\nI lift up my slightly tattered blood stained shirt.\nShe vomits.\n\"Don't worry about me it's not my blood.\"\nShe winches\n\"Erin as you may have noticed I'm not your typical z-man. You see I'm what my small circle of peers call a Horde Mind, which is in essence their brain. I'm the baser zombie's King and God. There aren't many of us and we don't know how we became like this and not like that\" \nI point at the sleepy zombie in the corner. \n\"You see dear sister, after the virus came and I woke up with this hole where my hart should be I I realised that I was some kind of undead but still sentient. In fact I haven't had the urge for brains ever. Isn't that strange? My fellows believe it's because we are capable of thought and thus do not yearn for a mechanism to allow it.\"\nThe sleeping zombie wakes and looks upon the creature that is my sister.\n\"Stephen?\" She repeats slowly and unsurely \"I thought you were dead\"\n\"I am. Pay attention sis have a reason for this long explanation. Now, where was I? Oh yes, my kind all have one thing in common, we woke up one day with a hole where our harts had been. No bites of any kind nor any other way cut that the infection my have entered is through. I have concluded that we were infected intentionally by some other party. Perhaps this other party wished for the horde to be restrained in some way and not ever expanding. \nMy fellow Horde Minds have experimented with this theory of us being created intentionally and have attempted creating another of our own. We have had no success. I believe I know why. Our DNA holds the key. All of us Horde Minds have purple eyes, well kinda purple, more of a strange blue. Anyway I believe that only people holding this gene can successfully transfer to our state. And that dear sister with your beautiful blue eyes is where you come in. I'm going to make you one of us. Try to anyway. The horde doesn't like you but their intelligence is that of a dull panda. They will forget about you eventually and grow to venerate you as a Queen and Goddess.\"\n\"That's insane.\"\n\"Is it? I think the crazy part is how humans believe them selfs to he so high and mighty with all the crimes you commit against your own and the suffering you inflict on others. We have a purpose we are unsighted and we take care of our own.\" \nWith one thought I make Sleepy stand up. I call for his brethren, six in total should do. \nErin grows tense a their arrival.\nSleepy hits her head with a rock. \n\"Sorry Erin, got to make do with what I've got and anaesthetic is not something that I've got.\"\nSleepy Preps a near by table.\nThe other five lift Erin to the table.\nI take out my knife, given the to my by my father, Erin souls have one too.\nI cut into the skin of my thumb just enough to draw blood. I cut around Erin's heart. She tenses and begins to wake. I give her no time to wake. I thrust my hand into her chest and grab her heart. I pull it out. Leaving some of my blood behind. It works. She grows infected. Her veins become more apparent in her face and her skin grows pale. Hours pass before she wakes her eyes search around her and finally meets mine. She smiles.\nNo. Wait.\nShe bares her teeth and moves to speak.\n\"Huugghhh.\"\nShe's mindless. I've failed, this time. I must have done something wrong, I shall report my findings to the other Horde Minds. \nPerhaps i shall search for my brother. He may yield different results.\n\"Sleepy my favourite zombie. I'm afraid you have just been demoted as my right hand guy. Meet Sis, she's the new zombie alpha. Keep her safe. Perhaps she may alter with time.\"\n\"Huuygg\" sleepy replies.\n\"Good\"\n\n(Still kinda new at this. Responses would appreciated)"
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rather than astronomically...
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[WP] General, please explain what you mean by describing this new program as "astrologically expensive."
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[
"\"It's relatively simple,\" the General replied. \"So let me explain. We, the military, have spent billions of dollars over the years trying to convince the people of Earth that Astrology is pseudoscience, that it is all nonsense and useless, and that studying the stars and developing a connection with the mystical powers that underlie the cosmos is impossible.\"\n\n\"Yes,\" I said. \"It is impossible, though.\"\n\n\"Wrong,\" said the General. \"It is thoroughly possible. That's why hundreds of thousands of generations of humans have studied astrology, and taken it seriously. It's because harnessing that power translates to real effects. All the great scientists and thinkers throughout the ages, all the biggest corporations of today, and all the super-power military nations, we all know that there's real power in the stars.\"\n\n\"Then why try to convince everyone it's all phoney?\" I asked.\n\n\"Because,\" said the General, \"there is only a finite amount of Cosmic energy that reaches our planet. If everyone knew that they could derive power from studying and connecting with the stars and galaxies and constellations, there would be a finite amount of energy spread between billions of people. That means that the amount each person could receive would be so small that it would be negligible. You think Bill Gates or Steve Jobs could have built their empires if everyone else were harvesting the Cosmic energy at the same time they were? You think we could have built the A-Bomb, and ended the war, without similarly harvesting such energy--the very same energy Hitler was harvesting all the way over in Germany?\"\n\n\"Well, I...\"\n\n\"So,\" the General said, \"when I say this new program is astrologically expensive, what I mean is that for it to be successful, it will require us to acquire, store, and save up a great deal of Cosmic energy, which we can only get through studying the star patterns and alignments, and adjusting the actions of our organization accordingly, so that we, the United States Military, as an entity, can vibrate harmoniously with the Cosmic purpose.\"\n\n\"But what,\" I asked, \"are you hoping this program will achieve? If this is the power that Hitler used, and the power the Military used to develop and build the A-bomb, the most terrifying weapon known to mankind, capable of wiping the entire species off the face of the planet, aren't you worried that this new Weapons Development Program will unleash an even more terrible and terrifying beast into the world? And unleash it into the hands of capricious men?\"\n\nThe General smiled at me, a strange, condescending smile. \n\n\"Progress,\" he said, \"transcends, in its importance, petty human concerns like yours. From the heights of the Cosmic purpose, your worries about our species look like the concerns of ants might look to us. The weapon we are building will be a glorious manifestation of the power of the Cosmos. Though, from your height, it may seem dangerous to humans, from the heights of the highest, it is the beautiful, terrible, and wonderful manifestation of Cosmic glory.\"\n"
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[WP] You meet someone in a dream, and they convince you to stay.
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"\"I can't stay anymore Luca.\" I said to my very attractive dream guy. I've been in here for almost seven months. I've started to appreciate the moments I get to see my family. They think I'm in a coma. I've just been trapped in here. I tried to leave but be won't let me. I love him but more as a friend. I didn't appreciate Josh when I had him. In the real world that is. I see him too sometimes. He come by the hospital talk to me try and get me to respond. He's getting married next week. I wish he was with me. I'm currently in a dream prison. Luca has me in a litteral prison...in my own dream! How ironic. Make a deal with the devil and this what you get. I've tried to kill myself. I don't wake up, I get put in a chamber of this weird liquid stuff and I get put back in prison. Lucky me. ",
"“Stay with me.” He pulled me into his arms and leaned his cheek on the top of my head. The warmth emanating from his body stilled the shivers of fear that wracked my limbs.\n\n“I don’t know how.” I mumbled the words into his broad chest and turned my ear so I could hear his heart beating steadily. \n\n“I can’t exist without you. You are my whole reason for living. I don’t want you to go.”\n\nI could hear the tears choking his voice and knew my own were imminent. I tightened my grip on him and opened my eyes to gaze unseeingly at the swirling colours of the sky.\n\nA patterned snake slithered up a nearby tree and strange flowers tangled in a briar fence around the still clearing in which we stood. I wanted to stay here so much. Here I felt loved and safe. I could feel his love here. I could feel his arms and his breath and listen to his heart beat. I could look into his eyes and see how he felt about me. Here in this clearing where we stood. The grass beneath our feet waved in a warm wind and he tugged me down to the ground. We twined our limbs to be as close as we could be.\n\n“Is there any way we can change it? Any way at all? Can I come with you? There must be a way.” He waved his hand above his head trying to find an answer in the swirling colours.\n\nI snuggled closer into his side and his arm tightened around me.\n\n“The universe is a strange place and who knows what might happen.” I was trying to sound philosophical and hoping this moment would last. “I can’t control when it ends, you know that don’t you?”\n\n“Mmm. There must be a way. This can’t be all there is. Why do we exist if not for each other? How do we meet? I am real, you are real and yet here is where we meet?” he was quiet for a space of time then rolled onto his side to look at me directly. “What do you see here?”\n\nI frowned. We had been over this. We saw different things in this same space. \n\n“I can see a tree, the grass under us is blueish and looks like blades of ocean water in a storm. The clearing is about two paces across and is surrounded with a wall of bramble with crazy looking flowers. The sky is a swirl of colours like when food colouring is tipped into milk, all swirly and marbled.” I took a deep breath and focussed on details. Not an easy thing in a dream scape. Most details slid out of my perception but I could see some things with crystal clarity. “You, you are the clearest thing here but when I wake up I can’t remember anything about how you look. Here you are tall, broad shouldered, olive skinned with glossy black hair and dark eyes. You have well-formed arms and beautiful shapely artist’s hands. Your lips…” I didn’t say anything and he held me tight in his strong arms. Time passed and didn’t. “I want to stay too. Why do you want to know what I see?”\n\n“I was hoping for some commonality. I don’t look like that in my waking world. You are tall and slender with glowing golden skin and blue hair that falls in waves to your ankles. Your eyes are tangerine and your smile makes my heart skip a beat. You have four arms and when you laugh, bubbles float through the air.”\n\nI laughed and hoped he was seeing bubbles. \n\n“I don’t look anything like that in my waking world. I would stay and be that person if I could. Describe yourself.”\n\n“I am short, even for my people, my skin is green and my eyes are yellow. I have warts and I live in the water. I need to keep my skin moist. I have no hair. I have a deep baritone voice and I sing every day. What do you look like where you are?”\n\n“I am average in height for my people. I am not colourful at all. I only have two arms and two legs. I am certainly not willowy and my hair is short and the colour of a field mouse. I think the only thing we have in common is singing.”\n\nWe were both quiet for a while, absorbing what we now knew to be impossible odds. Neither of us could stay and neither of us could be where the other was. The sadness spread from us and leeched the colour out of the sky. He pulled me tighter against him and sighed.\n\n“Maybe we could sing a duet? If we cannot stay, we can take a memory with us?”\n\nI nodded and felt the bittersweet agony of impending loss.\n\nHe began to sing. His voice slid deep into my core and caught my soul in its embrace. I opened my mouth and let my own voice weave around his. Our sounds melded and bounced off the other, capturing each other’s notes in chords and scales. The music makes us vibrate at a cellular level and we begin to meld into one voice, one being, one song. We filled each other beyond physical reality. \n\nI was still singing as I opened my eyes to the same dull ceiling of my bed room. \n\nTears slid down my cheeks into the pillow cradling my head. \n\nThe song stays with me.\n\nIt reminds me that he is somewhere in a pond keeping his skin moist.\n\nTangerine is my new favourite colour and every time I see bubbles I laugh.\n\nMy waking life is a holding pattern until I can dream again. \n\nI will find a way to stay.\n\n"
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I came across [this image](http://i.imgur.com/PgnMcS4.jpg) again and wanted to read some of your stories. :)
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[WP] In Japan, a baby girl with bright coloured hair is born. Obviously, she is destined to become a main character. She tries so hard to dodge her destiny.
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[
"\"You have got to be kidding me.\"\n\n\"Face me!\" roared the demon down the street. This was bloody ridiculous. The thing was 10 feet tall, it's skin was gray and leathery, and it had honest to god horns coming out of his skull, like come on, cliche much? To top it all off, it was *pouring* and lightning flashed and thunder rumbled when he spoke. \n\nThe universe has a sick, sick sense of humor. \n\n\"Ugh, leave me alone, terrorize the school or something\" I shouted at the thing, and turned to walk away. \n\nAnd then, fucking prince charming drops down from who the hell knows where, probably from a plane knowing my life, and pulls me close to him. \n\n\"En Garde!\" He proclaimed to the demon. This guy was wearing jeans and a plain white T-shirt. I could *feel* this guy's muscles through his shirt as he pulled me close to him. People in magazines cried because they couldn't look as good as this guy did. \"Don't worry miss, I will protect you,\" he said, turning to me. \n\nAt this point the demon roared, and pulled out a blood-red battleaxe (Where had he been hiding that?) and began to rush towards us.\n\nClassic. \n\nI pushed the asshole away. \"What do you mean protect me! All you are doing is drawing attention to me!\" \n\nHis perfectly chiseled hair twisted in confusion. \"But I'm saving you,\" he said like an idiot, still holding my hand. \n\nI bit his hand. Don't look at me like that, desperate times, desperate measures and all that. \n\nHe gave a yelp of pain and let go of me. I sprinted in the other direction. There was no way the giant demon wouldn't fight the warrior, I mean come on, the guy was right out of an anime, I doubt he had much in the way of a brain.\n\nI slowed won when the clang of steel, are roar of the demon had faded to a safe distance. I slowed down, and leaned against a building on the sidewalk to catch my breath. \n\nAnd then, a freaking woman appeared from the puddle on the side of the street. My freaking life.\n\n\"Please. You must help! Our people are dying because of this tainted rain, you mu-\"\n\nI kicked the lady.\n\nShe looked at me in shock. \"Excuse me? I was talking!\"\n\n\"Yeah well, not interested,\" I said exasperatedly.*I really need to get better stamina*, I thought as I was still taking in huge gulps of air from my sprint.\n\n\"What do you mean not interested? You're her, the prophesied one, spiky blue hair, school uniform, huge eyes. \n\n\"Not if I have a choice, I'm not,\" I snarled, and, having successfully caught my breath, began running towards my house. \n\nIt's a testament to my life, that this was just a slightly worse than normal day. Shit like this kept happening around me. Exotic, crazy hot guys showed up wounded at my door, about half my teachers were demons in disguise, and at one point I even found Excalibur. Yeah, Excalibur, in freaking Japan. \n\nI finally reached my home, closing the door shut behind me. Thankfully no archangels showed up to offer me a quest (seriously, that's happened to me. *Twice.*). \n\nI sat down, leaning on the door behind me, breathing heavily and utterly drained. Hell if I was going to get caught up in all this. I know with the long hair and all I am supposed to be a protagonist, endure great peril and challenges, but screw that. I just want to be a normal girl, live a normal life, get some software job in Tokyo or something. \n\nBut no. I live in day-today with some prick or the other bent on leading me down some crazy adventure or fight. I tried not to get frustrated. Sometimes when I looked back at my life I grew really angry over the sheer injustice, how the world is just robbing me of a peaceful, mundane life. \n\nI shook my head, trying to dispel my sour mood. I had to take it day by day, that's the only way I could stay sane. Well, I thought, getting to my feet, at I had defeated today. It was over, for now at least. \n\nThe bathroom door suddenly burst open, and some hybrid of octopus and shark came out, rushing towards me.\n\nI sighed. It was my fault really. I had practically asked for it with that line. ",
"\"AI - DRI - YAAAAAN.\" My friend called out to me. I sighed and turned around. Of course, my impossibly straight peacock-green hair signalled I was about to become an anime. Melissa ran up to me, as I took note in her blue-to-purple hair, realizing she was going to be a main character too.\n\n\"That girl was SO RUDE to me! She wouldn't even let me have a word! Teach her a lesson! Pleaaaaase!\" Melissa pointed to the girl she was talking about. *Oh god no. No. No no no. Boarding the train to Nopeville now.* I saw where and who she was.\n\nShe was a celebrity in our world, AwesomeTrinket, and she was standing next to the mysterious clock tower portal. \"No. Absolutely not.\" I hissed. Melissa looked sad. \"Why not?\"\n\n\"I'm NOT going to become an anime.\"\n\n\"What's an Anima?\"\n\n\"Not Anima. AniME. And I'm not going over there.\" I've been trying to avoid my fate for years. It's worked so far, but life has thrown every opportunity to become an anime at my face. I scraped it off every time.\n\n\"Fine! If you're not going, I will!\"\n\n\"'kay. Bye.\" I could stand to lose a friend or two. I turned the other direction. Melissa hesitated.\n\n\"I'm going there...right now!\"\n\n\"Have fun.\"\n\n\"It'll be dangerous!\"\n\n\"Cool.\"\n\n\"She's a fire archmage!\"\n\n\"Nice to hear.\"\n\n\"I hate fire!\"\n\n\"Do you now.\"\n\n\"I'm probably going to get burned to death.\"\n\n\"*Burned to Death* could sound like an interesting book.\"\n\n\"ARE YOU EVEN LISTENING?!\"\n\n\"Mmmmmhm.\" At this point, I was staring at my phone. A loud flap of wings were heard as Melissa screamed. I looked up and saw her being dragged away into the clock portal by a beautiful girl with dark hair, violet eyes, along with horns and lizard-like feet and black wings.\n\n\"Oh cool. You've found a friend.\" I put my phone in my pocket and walked away.\n\n\"ADRIAN! HEEEEEELP -\"\n\n\"If you want your friend back, daaaarling, you'll have to become one of Queen Degos's subjects!\" The girl giggled.\n\n\"Don't feel like it.\"\n\n\"Your loss then. Another soul for meeeee!\" She dragged Melissa away into the portal.\n\n\"That was nice. Time to go to Xenadia for a little while and grind a bit.\"",
"Hikaru slowly opens her eyes. She is on a bed in a dark room. \n\nSuspenseful Japanese background music plays, signaling the beginning of her three part saga in which her tragic backstory slowly will be revealed piece by piece and in which she will defy great odds to save her city usually from either a homicidal and twisted evil scientist or corrupt government official who may or may not come back from the dead, multiple times and also reveal himself to be a significant figure from her past. \n\nThe background music includes the sounds of an electronic keyboard, so you know the world is cyberpunk. \n\nHikaru feels her head throbbing and her body is sore. She uses her bionic arm to slowly lift herself up on the bed – wait, bionic arm? What in the hell? \n\nHikaru gasps in surprise. That was definitely not there before. \n\nShe looks around to see that she is in a high tech laboratory of some sort. In the corner, the only source of light in the room, there is an old man with his back to her, hunched over a work table. He turns around noticing she’s awake and walks over to her. \n\n“So, you’re finally awake, Motouko-san. I am Dr. Ishikagi and I am pleased to meet your acquaintance.” \n\nShe isn't particularly surprised by this old man suddenly appearing in her life but she also knows for a fact, that she doesn't want to be this \"Motouko\" whoever she is. \n\n “I am not Motouko and what the hell is this ?” She waves her new bionic arm at him. \n\n“Well, my dear, you were hit by a car and therefore, in order to save your life, I had no choice but to amputate your arm and replace it with this bionic limb.”\n \n“Oh, hells no!” \n\nHikaru is pissed. This is the third time this week this has happened. \n\n“What is wrong, Motouko-san? Do you not like my present?” \n\nHikaru does not even grace him with an answer. She has had it with these scientists making adjustments to her body in order for her to realize her full potential or to save her life crap. Her bionic leg shifts into a high powered energy canon / flamethrower and incinerates him in a fiery blaze . She watches him burn into smoldering ashes right in front of her as opposed to just leaving him in a burning building, eliminating any chance of him returning as plot twist later on.\n\nShe then burns the building for good measure anyway and begins walking away. \nShe doesn’t know which way to go, but it doesn’t matter, she’s the main character – anywhere she walks will just lead her to the next plot point anyway. \nAfter a ways of walking in an unfamiliar wasteland, she notices that a peculiar white cat with a crescent shaped moon on its forehead is following her.\n \nJeez, not another one, she thinks. \n\nShe turns around and faces the cat. \n\n“No, I am not the one you are looking for! Now, scram!” \n\nThe cat just looks at her so she continues. \n\n“No, I am not the lost princess of the moon kingdom and no, I am not the lost princess of venus either! Yeah, your purple friend already tried to sell me on this! I am just regular old Hikaru Sama so leave me alone!” \n\nShe turns around and walks away. The cat still follows her. \n\nShe tried being nice and normally, she is against cruelty against animals but she’s had a long day and this cat is going to make her life so much more complicated …\nHer leg shifts into the high powered energy canon / flamethrower once more. She gets ready to blast – \n\n“Don’t be so hasty to make judgments, young one ,” the cat says calmly, as he transforms into a majestic lion with wings. \n\n“I am Keroberos, guardian of the Clow, ” he says, “and I believe you Hikaru Sama are the heir to Clow Reed and his book of magic cards.” \n\n“Nope, I found that book in my basement, but I threw it away.” \n\n“The book is protected by magics and enchantments, it cannot simply be thrown away.” \n\n“Yeah, I kind of figured that out when it kept returning to my basement so I opened the book and released all the cards.” \n\n“You did what!?!?!?” \n\nKeroberos bares his teeth at her – he is furious. \n\n“Do you know what you have done? The danger you have unleashed upon the world ?”\n\n“Don’t know, and don’t really care,” Hikaru replies nonchalantly, she has had mythical and non-mythical beings tell her she has endangered the world on a weekly basis – it gets old after a while. Last week it was that perverted old guy on the back of a giant toad telling her that she doomed the world because she released the nine tailed fox that was sealed inside her at birth and the week before that, there was that other old geezer who appeared on her tv saying that she had to play a children’s card game to get his soul back and save the world – honestly, it gets really old.\n \nKeroberos looks at her with disdain. \n\n“Perhaps it is better that you are not the guardian,” he says before flying off. \nHikaru continues walking and then looks at her watch, hmm… I’ve been walking for a while isn’t it about time …\n\nThe scene cuts to a closed door. It opens, and Hikaru walks in, she is in her apartment. Good, the episode is ending, she thinks. \n\n“Mom! Dad! I’m home,” she yells, “Did you miss me?”\n\nThere is no response. \n\n“Of course not,” she says bitterly. “You died when I was a baby in order to fulfill my tragic backstory.” \n\nShe sighs and begins to work on dying her hair black. \n\nAn upbeat Japanese pop song that in no way reflects the tone / mood of the episode begins playing as end credits roll. \n",
"The cat was back. \n\nThe thing was hovering, impossibly, in midair outside my bedroom window, surrounded by cotton-candy smoke and *Swarovski* glitter. It was holding some idiotically baroque bauble thing in its mouth, as if I didn't already have boxes of the damn things.\n\nIt looked a little cross, which was fair. I'd trapped it under a bucket weighed down with rocks last week. \n\n\"Look-\" It started, speaking straight to me in a baritone voice, slightly muffled by the no-doubt-central-to-the-plot gizmo in its mouth (that conveniently resembled a mechanical pencil). \n\n\"No, YOU look! I don't CARE that you want a stupid savior, or whatever else it is! Do you know how many portals to magical dimensions, or adorable mascots carrying messages of grand import I have to deal with on a *daily basis*?! Leave me ALONE!\"\n\n\"Thish isn't how it's shupposed to go!\" the cat protested. \"You're shupposed to undergo a long journey full ov lossh and struggle, and learn an important lesshon about the nashure of friendship and love!\"\n\n\"Is the lesson 'love an friendship are important, and are based on trust and sharing'?\"\n\n\"Vell, *yesh*, but-\" The cat stammered, nonplussed.\n\n\"-Great! Lesson learned! GO AWAY.\"\n\n\"...Can I at leasht give you thish fing? I've got to kheep holding it otherwise, and some of the edges are *shahrph*.\" \n\n\"...Fine.\" I opened the window, and held out a wastepaper basket. It was half-full already.\n\n ...\n\nI was on my way to school, when the monsters appeared. \n\nPolice were attempting to engage what looked like humanoid inkblots, complete with glowing eyes, with (and here I sighed) nightsticks, and stern words. Some of them had pulled their weapons, and were firing aimlessly into their body, which of course parted and re-formed instantly. \n\n\"Reinforcements! WE NEED REINFORCEMENTS *ARRGH*.\" he cried out, as the monster enveloped him, to turn him into a dark gem, or suck out his happiness, or some other stupid goddamn thing.\n\nThere was a little old fortuneteller, because of course there was.\n\n\"My child, if you want to defeat these horrible creatures,\" she began, cackling, \"then you will have to *WAIT WHAT ARE YOU DOING WITH THAT-*\" \n\n-I scooped the crystal ball off of her table, and hurled it overhand directly at the thing. It whacked right into it's dull-red ember eyes, with a sound like the crack of a baseball bat. \n\nIt went down like a sack of potatoes. \n\n\"The glowing bits, you *unbelievable* jackasses!\" I shrieked, scolding the policemen, who looked at the thing, awestruck, then back at me. \"Shoot the goddamned glowing bits! Haven't you ever played a *videogame*!?\"\n\nWith a belching sound, their comrade slid out from the enveloping creature, damp, but unharmed.\n\nI walked over, grabbed him by the collar, and slapped him awake. He stared at me, bewildered.\n\n\"**Stop being a cliche.**\" I growled. \n\n\"Oh!.. Uh... OK?\" I dropped him.\n\n\"Hey, wait!\" called the fortuneteller after me, cursing and struggling to get up in her impractically intricate robes.\n\n\"NO.\" I strode away. \n\n ...\n\nMy name is Keiko, and I'm not your waifu. I dyed my hair as soon as I was old enough to bike to the salon without training wheels. I wear dark brown contacts. I study hard. I don't stare wistfully out of windows, and I've had three boyfriends. \n\nI like death metal. I like living here. There isn't a gap in my life. I'm not filled with longing for something more. And I have friends.\n\nSpeaking of... Here's Sakura.\n\n\"Hi!\" She called out, waving with both hands, and running up to hug me, bubblier than a case of champagne. She's platinum blonde, and wears cherry lipgloss. She loves pop music, shopping, and the color pink. She's the sweetest person I've ever met.\n\nShe was also being followed by skeletons again.\n\nI sighed, and pointed. \"Sakura...\"\n\nShe turned around, and frowned in a way that for anyone else would be theatrical. \"Oh, NO! Go away! I told you, I DON'T WANT BLOODY REVENGE ON ANYONE!\"\n\n\"But, Mistress, we-\" they creaked out.\n\n\"WHAT did you call me? Get out of here! I don't want to be seen with you creeps!\" Her eyes flashed purple-black, as they always did when she got angry.\n\n\"We cannot! We are *bound by-*\"\n\nWith a snap of her wrist, the collapsible metal baton clacked open, and in two literally *bone-crushing* swings, they fell to pieces.\n\nBreathing heavily, she looked over to me. \"How was your walk to school?\"\n\n\"Pretty good.\" I shrugged. \"The cat came back.\"\n\n\"What about the fairy?\"\n\nMy face paled. I opened my backpack, and pulled out a corked, *air-tight* bottle.\n\n\"Um...\"\n\n\n\n\n"
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Call it idle wish fulfillment.
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[WP] A band that ended in its prime due to the death of a member (e.g.The Jimi Hendrix Experience, Nirvana, Joy Division), did not happen in *your* world's timeline. Write about their 2016 Farewell tour.
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"\"The lads and I decided to end it on a high note,\" stated frontman Ian Curtis. \"We decided that we needed to go out not as New Order and Ian Curtis, but as Joy Division.\"\n\nJoy Division's \"All Known Pleasures,\" 2016 Farewell Tour started in London yesterday, where they will tour for the next year in a series of cities across the globe. Next week they will play in Madrid, followed by Berlin.\n\nPeter Hook said about the tour, \"After Ian and I talked in...oh, it was 2012, we wanted to get together for one last good tour. The fans deserved it, and for once, everyone's schedules just fell into place.\"\n\nAfter the band's break-up in 1980 following Curtis's sudden desire for seclusion so he could treat his epilepsy, he and wife Annik Curtis reformed as his own act, while the rest of Joy Division went on to perform as New Order. Since then, Joy Division has had sporadic reunions and released four more albums: 1986's \"Warsaw,\" 1992's \"Freudenabteilung,\" 1997's \"No Souls,\", and 2004's \"Strength, Joy.\" \n\nBernard Sumner and Stephen Morris were contacted later about the tour. \"We were on board the minute Peter said Ian could do it,\" said Morris. \n\n\"A large part of the problem were the drugs Ian took to control his epilepsy; he also went to mystics and all that unorthodox rubbish,\" said Sumner. \"When he and Annik got their own band, the rest of us said, 'Fine, then we'll do our own thing.' Now that Ian's done with that, we can get back to being Joy Division one last time.\"\n\nIn addition to the band's hits from their early albums, Curtis agreed to also perform hits from New Order. \"Can't have a tour without those songs,\" said Curtis. \"People know and love New Order. We should perform those as well.\"\n\nMore dates will come soon, as the band plans to tour most of the U.S."
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[WP] Every young person is conscripted for the military and dragged off, never to be seen for 5 years. After that time has passed they return, forgetting what happened for the last 5 years. You remember your term of service, and you wish you've forgotten it and the monsters.
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"\"I can't.. \"\n\nI shuddered and gave an exasperated sigh,\n\n\"simply, can't.\"\n\nMy voice, barely audible over the roar of the engines. The transport was nearing our destination. \n\n-\n\n\n\nThe last few years have been jarring. I was a part of just of a small remote village before Command made their annual trip to collect the soldier tithe. We were young, and few, just a handful of people of age to be shipped off to, 'The Outer'.\n\nHumanity has been terraforming the planet slowly, it takes a lot of people to collect resources from the surrounding celestial bodies to create habitable areas; colonies, and biomes. It was mostly logistics and mining, we were told. Just conscripted for a few years and you'll come back with your own home given to you by the Sol Coalition. It will be easy enough, though people have been known to disappear. Communication was difficult and very expensive with other communities or planets. It was a special occasion to phone up old family or friends who had moved. \n\nI thought that was dramatic when I heard of people 'disappearing'. Pragmatism stated it was workplace accidents, and there were even some people that did not come back to our village, but when asked the returning groups would say that the 'missing' person was still alive, they just transferred to a different biome, whether for new work or finding a life partner. That's not to say that the Outer was not dangerous, just like working any industrial trade there can be accidents and unfortunately some are killed. \n\nAs it turns out, all of these scenarios were true. The wrong questions asked, and half answers given, led us all into a blissful state of compliance as we filled our duty to the Coalition. There was more to the story, as I discovered. \n\n\nWe got picked up by the sleek drop ship, bags in hand. We stood on the cargo door, turned and saluted to our families and friends, old and young. Some tears and proud grins being traded, saw us off expectantly. No one knew this would be the last we saw each other. \n\nTrent and Jacob traded anxious looks and betraying smiles. We were taking our turn for the communal good. We were putting in our work, and to come back as proud members of the Coalition, become our own people, and earn our own home. It took so long for us to become of age, but the moment the summons came, it felt unfair. Anticipation is cruel. Dragging out time, sapping concentration, setting the very soul on edge until it finally ends, and it feels like it has come entirely too soon. \n\nThe transport was automated. No other soldiers were there to greet us, but this was typical. They put us to sleep for the transport and before we knew it we had arrived to our base a day later. We exited the ship and found ourselves in a bustling harbor on one of the main hubs among the Outer. It was the most people I had ever seen. All kinds of colors and hairstyles and so many different ways people were dressed. \n\nIt was a blur, they fed us and immediately put into orientation, discussing what jobs and possibilities we had within the Coalition. Jacob and Trent wanted to work on a Collector, a type of scavenging ship. They would fly near rings or one of the clouds a jump or two away, scoop up the resources. Our village ancient biology teacher told us stories about how these ships that were similar to an old Terran creature called a \"Blue Whale\", that would swim in massive oceans and would eat in a similar manner as the Collectors. I didn't want to be separate from them, and the ship reminded me of home, so I followed suit. All three of us were accepted into the program, and we went to our rooms to rest. \n\n_____\n\nOn mobile, first post! I have more planned if anyone ends up reading this. I just kinda blasted this out so any tips are welcome. "
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[WP] Global warming is complete, revealing an entire civilization that remained hidden under the ice of Antartica.
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"They'd know about it for years of course, the litteral ivory towers slumbering beneath those ancient frozen sheets. They'd know about it before they'd completed the first steam engine. Three hundred and eighteen years of planning, keeping the public in the dark and the science buried. They were convinced the ancient tech buried beneath Antarctica could fix the damage they'd wrought to this Earth, or take them home. They were right.\n\n\n\nEdit: I apparently cannot spell this early in the morning.",
"I looked around, knowing this would be where I spent the remainder of my days.\n\nThe icy wind pierce my lungs as I inhale. The men, women and children that surround me all suffer from the same fate I do. We were diseased, and we threatened humanity's very existence. Some thought we were cursed by the Gods themselves to carry this burden. Others thought we were blessed, and only we were the ones meant to carry life forward. \n\nDoctors all over the world decided that we needed to be quarantined, and with that, we were sent to this barren landscape. I had no quarrel with this. It was for the greater good, and my life had no substantial worth. \n\nNow, as I lay on the freezing ground, my body feels nothing. My mind wanders, and I feel my body slowly give up. As I let my soul free and this snow cover my body, I only hope we are never found. \n\n----\nHey OP! Hope you liked it. I'm not really satisfied with how this came out. I felt I had a good idea, but I feel it lacks something, though I'm not sure what. \n\nAny feedback would be great. Super cool prompt by the way.",
"Everything went from blurry to black.\n\n\nI jolted awake - taking an inventory of my surroundings. The low hum of machines played in time with the confusion dancing in my head. A howling dust storm scraped against the outside of my tiny, cable-filled studio. I'm home. I rubbed the sleep from my eyes and wiped the sweat from my upper lip. \n\n\nInhale. Exhale. Refocus. \n\n\n\"Maggie, what's today's date?\" I called out.\u000b\u000b\n\n\n\"Today is eleventh of August, the year two-thousand one-hundred sixty-three. Are you feeling alright? That's the second time you've asked today. Vital snapshots are reporting elevated levels of body temperature, blood pressure, and stress.\"\n\n\nI roll the date around in my head. \n\n\n11 August. 2163. \n\n\nThe anniversary of her death. 167 years ago. She knew this was coming.\n\n\n\"I'm fine, thanks.\" I clear my throat, \"Tea, please\".\n\n\n\"Whatever you say,\" Maggie said, with a sigh of consolation. The low rumble of the kettle echoed in the kitchen. For a home AI system, she was quite empathetic. I'm thankful for that. Compassion has become scarce since humanity found refuge in the vents.\n\n\nMy eyes draw back to the screen.\n\n\nThe cursor blinked, eagerly awaiting input. I'm stuck. What a terrible title. Highlight. Delete.\n\n\nMy eyes darted around the ceiling as my fingers rested on the keys more gently than usual. Dull pain throbbed from their tips. \"Maybe I should go easy on the biting,\" the familiar and fleeting thought scurried away as quickly as it came.\n\n\nA quiet ring beckoned me to the kitchen. Tea was ready. I made my way across the granite floor, my feet absorbing the cold of the tile. With achy hands, I grasped the mug. Instantly, a wave of warmth washed over me. Chamomile. My favorite.\n\n\nBack at my desk, articles were strewn about across the holodisplays. The room was dark except for the soft blue glow emanating from the plethora of personal accounts, news reports, scientific journals, and environmental studies. \n\n\nTwenty years after her death, it became apparent global warming had dramatically hurled the world's ecosystems in to disarray. Earth's oceans continued to rise to record-breaking levels, year-over-year, as ice caps withered away in the heat. Flora and fauna were wiped from the earth in staggering numbers. Unfortunately, it was far too late to reverse the damages humans had inflicted on the globe, so the efforts to synergize densely populated areas with \"green energy\" were re-aligned to discovering a habitable planet. \n\n\nOurs was dying. It still is. \n\n\nThe search was short-lived. Earthlings were graced with an answer. She was right, they would come for us.\n\n\nVangelia Dimitrova, widely known as Baba Vanga, predicted it all. Her prophecies of war, famine, greed, and violence have proven to be reality over the span of two centuries. Society disregarded her premonitions of the Vimfami shortly before her death in 1996, but here we are, nearly 200 years later.\n\n\nSentient beings. Humanoids. Vimfami. They emerged from beneath our feet, living for centuries in the hydro thermal vents far below the ice caps - or rather, where they had been. The caps had completely melted by 2045; they felt as though they could not exist in secrecy any longer. \n\n\nAt first, the public feared them, and understandably so - as it was in human nature to resist change. There was mass distrust in the Vimfami, and even more in the governments of the world that kept their existence a secret to their people. The Vimfami waged no wars, experienced no famine, had no inherent sense of greed or violence. To Vimfami, these are constructs of weakness and self-importance that distracted the mind from greatness. The Vimfami lived in perfect harmony. Their movements, thoughts, speech, everything, was of a hivemind - as if they responded to guidelines delivered to each individual through an ansible. \n\n\nOur cohabitants unveiled technologies far superior to the latest achievements of man. Methods and instruments for sustaining life deep below the surface were taught, improved, and then taught again to the humans that were willing to accept their help. As time dredged on and drought desiccated the lands, humans sought refuge in the vents and were accepted with open arms by the Vimfami. A select few, myself included, have been appointed to remain on the surface to observe the changing climate. I'm still bitter about it.\n\n\n\"It's only a matter of time before we fuck that up, too.\" I whisper, this time to no one in particular.\n\n\nInhale. Exhale. Refocus.\n\n---\n\n\nCriticism is welcome! Haven't written much of anything in a long while, and I'd like to get back in to the swing of it. Pls be gentle.\n",
"Considering it's size, the rapid underwater vessel (or RUV for short) hummed through the water at a blistering pace. Dr. Pamela Anders sat at one of the small four-person tables in the lounge overlooking some satellite photos that outlined the remains of this 'beyond ancient' city.\n\nIt had been a decade prior when the sat shots had first started to reveal something hiding under the Antarctic ice. Much like those initial photos of Mars from the early and mid 2000s, most people had dismissed the anomalies as rock formations and natural occurrences. But the skeptics had been equally wrong about both. Sure, NASA had known all along but governments prior to the fallout of the global warming crisis had been corrupt, secrective and for some reason thought the masses \"couldn't handle\" revelations of this magnitude.\n\nTurns out a few extra trillion gallons of water, storms of Biblical proportions, and the loss of most of civilization tended to unite the people of Earth. Fast forward a few hundred years, extensive Mars exploration, and near annihilation and the discovery barely raised eyebrows with the public. \n\nPamela poured over the five remaining images looking for something she knew had to be there. She knew somewhere lurking in these images was the door to a structure, exactly like the one they'd found on Mars. She analyzed each image carefully, studying the bizarre shaped buildings and the winding sidewalks and stair cases. She remembered vividly how pissed Rick, her boss, had been as she threw out sweeping armfuls of images. \n\n\"Pam, are you serious? You realize there's barely any paper left in this world. You better find it.\" He'd said unapologetically.\n\nAs much as she'd hated having to print them all, this was the only way should could engross herself in these images. Turning them 360º and analyzing them through AR just wasn't the same and this had allowed her to narrow 50,000 site images to just 5 Sites.\n\nAnd now, she knew, even if she wasn't able to spot it in the photos it was there, in one of these five locations. She was positive if she could just get a closer look. If she could analyze it live with her own eyes, she could find it.\n\n\"We're approaching the ruins Pam,\" Eric said as he popped his head into the lounge. \"We're scheduled for site 2 out of the 5 first. Just so you know, as we approach there may be a slight...\" \n\nThe entire RUV bounced and vibrated scattering the pictures on the table before her.\n\n\"bump.\" Eric said finishing his sentence.\n\n\"Great, I'll be down in two seconds. Let me just gather my photos...\" she said trailing off.\n\nShe looked down at her pile of photos. Two had fallen off the table and the three remaining had landed on top of each other overlaying a connecting spot between sites 3, 4, and 5.\n\n\"Pam, you alright?\" \n\n\"Oh my God.\" She stared at the photos in disbelief. \n\nShe grabbed a piece of tape and laid it over all three images locking them together.\n\n\"Call Captain Richards and tell him to forget Site 2.\" She held up the three photos together revealing a dark round hexagonal shape with a dark chasm in the middle. \n\n\"Take me here. We've found the door.\"",
"I prefer not to think about the fact that we are genetically related to them. Not a single one of us wants to think about it. But yet, we are, even though we isolated ourselves by going to live on the Island very, very long ago.\n\nWe called them Et Onwetmon, the ignorant men. The very ignorance of their kind was supposed to drive them to their own demise, before we were left to deal with them.\n\nWe figured that this way, they'd never survive up to the Confrontation, that the melting of the Great Ice up north (caused by themselves) would have killed them, submerging their preposterously large cities and forcing the survivors together on small pieces of land, where they would murder each other over the last resources. But they had been surprisingly inventive and resilient, more due to sheer luck than to wisdom, because after all, they were the ignorant men.\n\nAnd so they continued using their unsustainable resources and their exploitative manner of living. Not even fifty rotations of this planet around the Great Star had been completed before the increase in temperature above our Ice melted it. They actually managed to melt our Ice. It was mind-boggling. We had spent hundreds, thousands of rotations on meticulously cultivating just to postpone the Confrontation, to keep them away from us for as long as possible.\n\nThe Confrontation had been predicted in the old times. At first, we thought it had been averted when the very revered Onwetman Plato wrote about our supposed extinction. Yet, we quickly abandoned that location and left a few ruins to lure them into thinking we were long dead, should they come look for us. We had enough time to find a new location to live, underneath our Ice. It was the perfect place for us, like the Great Souls created it specifically for us. We figured we were safe. We were wrong.\n\n After the melting of both of the Ices, the Confrontation was inevitable. Et Onwetmon would eventually become aware of our existence, and they would answer this awareness with hostility, as they did with everything unfamiliar. Afterwards, we would be free to move back to our Island, like our ancestors in the old times.\n\nThey were hardly a challenge for us. We had shifted our technology to use sustainable materials when they were still circumnavigating the globe in wooden ships, so the Confrontation was hardly a challenge, but more of an annoyance.\n\nWe didn't kill all of them, oh no, many of them could still help us, albeit involuntarily, in the less demanding tasks that our society knew. Nevertheless, we wiped most of their horrendous society. It was better that way.\n\nWe were free to return to the Island. We sent out recon missions, we prepared our ships to return, we had everything set up.\n\nThen, word returned from the recon missions we had dispatched. The melting of the Ices had been underestimated. The Island had been flooded long ago.\n\nWe could never return to our beloved Island. Et Onwetmon had destroyed it unknowingly, but it was our fault. We had allowed them to do so, unconsciously. Ignorantly. We had ignorantly allowed those whom we called ignorant, to destroy our ancient home, the very first place where our ancestors defined the difference between us and them, only because we didn't want to be confronted with them. We weren't any better.\n\nThat was the day we started to refer to ourselves as Et Onwetmon, because after all, we were the ignorant men.\n\n---------\nAuthor's Note: Not sure if it is clear, but the inhabitants under the Ice are offspring of the original inhabitants of Atlantis ;) And yes, I know it would have made more sense to use ancient Greek roots for their words than Germanic roots, but I wrote this on the train and I was lazy. Hope you liked it!"
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[WP] "Because when you control the [randomly chosen nearby object], you control the world"
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"Hanna snatched up her keys from the ground, chasing down her car key which had detached from the others. She gave the man who practically mowed her down a dark glare. He said nothing, but took his key and ran. “God what a jerk! He didn’t even say sorry for running into me!” \n\n“What an ass,” the voice said into her ear. “Anyway, what are you going to wear tonight?”\n\nHanna grinned, “I found this fantastic little red dress, and matching boots. I am going to look so hot tonight. What are you wearing?”\n\nHer friend began speaking, but Hannah wasn’t listening. She had reached her car, and was trying to pop the trunk, but nothing was happening. She pressed the button in rapid succession six times, and nothing. “What the-”\n\n“What’s wrong?”\n\n“My freaking key isn’t working. God, this is just my luck.” Hanna tried to unlock the car, but nothing happened. “What good is keyless entry if I can’t enter key-lessly!” She stuck the key in the lock, and twisted it. The stupid fail safe the salesman made sure she knew before she left. Nothing. “Tara, come get me.”\n\n***\n\nHalfway across the country panic was enveloping the base under the mountain. \n\n“Johnson, what the hell is going on?”\n\n“Sir, unknown, sir. The missile doors keep opening and closing, and the missiles are arming and disarming!”\n\n“Are we being hacked?”\n\n“Unsure, sir,” a man across the room reported.\n\n“Get me the president!”\n\n***\n\nThe man mumbled to himself as a maniacal grin spread across his face. He had evaded the men after him. Clutching his prize, he pressed the trunk button. The missile doors were open now. Then he hit the open button, and thus armed them. He closed his eyes, and pressed the panic button. He waited, and waited, and waited, and waited...\n\n\n\nThis was my first attempt so feed back is appreciated!",
"It was 3:00 pm and I was taking a walk in the park. \n\nA married couple passed by me. I heard the woman say to the man them say to the other, \"Does the sun seem brighter than normal to you? Maybe it's just me.\" \n\nThe man replied, \"It seems brighter to me too. I thought it was just me though.\"\n\nThey were right. The sun was shining a little brighter today. However, they didn't know I was the one making it brighter. Yes, you read that right. I was making the sun brighter.\n\nHow was I doing this, you might ask? Well, I'll let you in on a secret. I had paid someone in secret to create a machine to amplify the effect of the Sun's rays. You might be asking yourself how that would work. Well, I don't understand it either, but the guy who designed and built it understands it quite well.\n\nI only set it to slightly amplify the effect of the Sun's rays. If I did something more drastic, it would be obvious that there was change. This way, the people's eyesight would decrease quicker.\n\nNow, you may be asking yourself why I would want that. Well, it's because I own almost all companies that sell glasses and sunglasses. Soon, I hope to buy out my competition and create a monopoly. Then I'll be even more rich.\n\nBecause when you control the light and glasses, you control the world.",
"I stand in the center of arcane circle. Powerful magnets spin around me, infusing me with their electro-magnetic pulses. Runes carved in the rocky floor ignite into flame as lightning dances between them. The fires burn brighter, the magnets spin faster, and infinity opens before me. The Void. \n\nI call out into it, speaking the true name of that which I must master. My voice echos, reflected a thousand ways by the shifting dimensions and the power is mine. I can feel them, all around the world, they sparkle like fireflies in my mind. I flex my will outwards and feel them bend to it, ready to obey. \n\nMy cringing servant, Falthos, looks on as the ritual ends. The portal closes, the fires die, and the magnets stop their spin. \"It is done\" I intoned imperiously, \"All of creation will serve me.\"\n\n\nFalthos looked up, blubbering, \"But why, Master? How-\"\n\n\"Because! When you control the lamp, you control the world!\" \n\n\n________________________________________\n\nSheila worked quickly, running the duster around the room. This wasn't a place you wanted to be dawdling, and god help you if security thought you snooped. Her focus was broken by a loud pop behind her. She spun with a muffled yelp, but just saw the empty office, lit by the softly glowing lamps. Sheila clutched the cross around her neck, she'd been told this place was haunted. Heart hammering, eyes wide, she backed slowly towards the door. \n\n\"Hey Sheila\" a voice came from the intercom. \n\n\"Roy?\"\n\n\"Yeah, looks like that pop was one of the lamps behind you, a bulb burnt out.\"\n\n\"Oh what! You were watching?\" She sputtered, \"Oh never mind, of course you were. Sorry, I'm just a bit frazzled. You know, ghosts and all that.\"\n\n\"Haha, no worries, it's a freaky place at night.\"\n\nSheila, feeling much better, went to her cart and got a fresh bulb, finished cleaning and left the Oval Office. \n\nThe wizard rising to consciousness from his deep meditation smiled. Soon his plan would be truly in motion. \n\n_______________________________________\n\n\nHaving learned the president's routing from surprising informative box of cereal, he knew the POTUS would eating a bowl of Raspberry Crunch Sparkles at his desk at 9am. At 8, he entered his meditation chamber. A domed room, deep in the earth and guarded by wards of great power. It is a place none but he may enter, as Falthos had suffered greatly to learn. \n\nSitting in the center of the chamber, he lays a piece of parchment before him. Inscribed upon it are his demands, translated to a form transmissible by his servants. Sinking deep into his meditation, he prepares himself. At 8:55, a tendril of consciousness threads it's way to the surface and opens his eyes. They turn to the parchment and read the dots and dashes. \n\n\n\nThe POTUS sits at his desk, happily humming the Raspberry Crunch Sparkle jingle as he slurps his way through breakfast. \"This is the best breakfast\" he thinks to himself, spoon clattering against his teeth. But he's quickly distracted as the lights around the room begin to flicker. \"Hey wha-?\" he spewed, sending a shower of cereal down the front of his suit. \n\nGet in here!\" he screams, fingers stabbing blindly towards the intercom. Secret service men burst in to the room, guns drawn.\n\n\"It's the lights\" POTUS cried out, \"The lights are hurting the President!\", screamed an agent. A flurry of shots rang out and when the ringing began to fade, every bulb was shattered on the ground.\n\n\n'Fuck' was the first real thought to enter the wizard's mind as he once again occupied his body. \"This might be harder than I thought.\" \n",
"A bullet flied right over my head. I ran for cover and hid my body behind a van. I peeked through the windows of the van and saw six men donned in black suits approaching toward me.\n\n\"Are you fucking crazy?\" shouted one of the men.\n\n\"You could have shot the keyboard, idiot!\" shouted another.\n\n\"It didn't.\" answered another. Through the windows, I had an eye contact with the guy who fired at me, so I ducked down and pushed my back against the passenger door of the van. From what I gathered from their conversation, they were after the keyboard I just inherited from my father. As far as I can recall, my father was loving and caring husband and father. That was, he mysteriously disappeared ten years ago when I was a mere fifteen-years-old boy. A decade past his disappearance I got a call from the self-proclaimed my father's private attorney who asserted the urgency of the matter at hands. I wasn't particularly busy, and wished to learn about my father's fate, so I drove to the designated parking lot. When I arrived and got out of my car, a black sedan drove next to me. The window rolled down, an old guy with sunglasses nodded and introduced himself as the attorney, handed me the keyboard, briefly explained that it belonged to my father, and drove away from the parking lot. I was puzzled, but my curiosity vanished like morning dew when I saw a group of half dozen men pointing at me and walking toward me. I started to walk away from them, and that's when the bullet flied right over my head.\n\n\"Don't come any closer!\" I shouted. \"Or I break the keyboard in half!\" I bluffed. I wasn't even sure what was the significance of the keyboard, but I picked up from their little conversation that they didn't want to damage the keyboard.\n\n\"You wouldn't.\" answered a voice. I turned and slowly raised my head onto the window of the van again. All six men were staring right at me, but no gun was being aimed at me.\n\n\"I totally would. I'd rather have it broken than hand it over to guys like you!\" I shouted. As response, the guy who fired his gun before raised his voice and gun: \"I say we shoot the guy in the head.\" I ducked and prayed the van was sufficient cover. I heard a gunshot ring through the parking lot.\n\n\"Hey, can we talk?\" said the man, who answered me before. Instead of peeking through the window again, I leaned sideways and looked at the men. Only five of them were standing, and one was rolling on a pool of his own blood. The trigger-happy man was dead. My face became as pale as first snow. These guys meant business, as they didn't hesitated a second before killing one of their own. After several deep breaths to collect myself, I barely answered, stuttering: \"Y..Yeah, we, can talk.\"\n\n\"Boy, you know what you're holding right now?\" said the man. I didn't answer. Letting enemy learn how ignorant I am of this situation didn't look good in the slightest. \"It's very dangerous and it's important to store it in safer space,\" said the man.\n\n\"What is this keyboard anyway?\" I screamed, both afraid and confused. A lot of thoughts passed through my imagination-the secret code decoder, the map to treasure chest, the gadget of future... Obviously the keyboard was something more than a keyboard. It was literally worth killing for.\n\n\"He who controls the keyboard, controls the world.\" said the man. \"Or, people, technically speaking. You can command people to do anything with that keyboard. Within the realms of physical possibilities, of course. Using that device, the New World Order is set in stone--but your father sought better. He thought he'd free the world from the control of the keyboard and let you have it! He used the keyboard for *that* *lawyer* and guess what happened? He had to hand you over the keyboard, whether he liked it or not!\" I looked down to the keyboard I was holding onto. It looked like an ordinary classic IBM mechanical keyboard without cable; it certainly did not look like a mind-controlling device, but I had to try.\n\n\"Boss, why are you telling him all that?\" asked another man who stood behind the man.\n\n\"Shit--! I was keyboarded too! That sly son of a bitch! Quick! Get him!\" shouted the boss man. By this time, I had already typed \"Go to sleep,\" hoping it won't affect me. As soon as I pressed enter key, I heard the bodies hitting the asphalt ground. I peeped back and saw six bodies lying on the ground. Although in theory I knew how it worked, it all seemed unreal. With the keyboard tucked under my arms, I ran to my car and drove to my home. I thought how I would go about to test the keyboard's limits, and how I'd establish an new world order for myself."
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[WP] "I didn't used to be a marsupial."
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"Have you ever been having a dream so vivid and, if I'm going to be honest, terrifying that you wake up panicked and trying to get away from the big baddy that was after you?\n\nI mean shooting right off the bed like you might be able to outrun the biggest, nastiest spook you've ever had the displeasure to meet?\n\nI ran into my door after waking up, once. That's how afraid of my dream I was.\n\nWell, when I woke up this morning or afternoon, since I'm not entirely sure which it was, I did just that: I shot straight up with a breath and was moving. It took a few steps on the shifting sand for me to realize I wasn't wearing shoes. \n\nIt took a few steps after that to realize I wasn't in my hotel room.\n\nAnd it took just a few steps after that to realize my dream might not have been all that much of a dream.\n\nSee, I woke up in a surprisingly wide and surprisingly flat expanse of red desert with some surprisingly unpleasant birds hovering above me. I did not have on my shoes, and I only had on what was left of my tattered pants and shirt.\n\nAnd if you were to ask me just how tattered my pants and shirt were, I would only have one way to describe them: surprisingly *little*.\n\nBecause everything about my waking up in the middle of a red desert with no shoes, the lesser parts of pants and a shirt, and what I can only assume was a doozy of a shiner on my left eye based on how much it hurt if I barely prodded it, I found surprising.\n\nTwo days ago I was on a mostly business but partly pleasure trip to secure a new buyer in the south sea. \n\nYesterday, assuming my lights weren't out *that* long, I was a prisoner for a whole helluva lot of folks yelling in a language I'd never heard in my life.\n\nAnd today while I was walking in what I hope was toward a city or even a random old guy's hut, because really any human (other than those crazy talking psychos that knocked me out) would be a sight for sore eyes.\n\nEye.\n\nA sight for a sore eye. And a not so sore but very bewildered eye.\n\nI should be happy it's only one sore eye.\n\nBut as I was walking in that hopefully safe direction I couldn't believe what I heard.\n\nA jumping mouse the size of a dadgum *cat* sidled up next to my shambling progression and started talking.\n\nHand to Heaven.\n\nI was started to think that the uncomfortably warm sand was turning the way of noticeably hot sand when this little thing just hopped out from a cairn of stones and scrub bushes, which scared me more than I should admit, and just watched me for a few shuffles. \n\n\"Whatcha lookin' at, you big mouse?\" I glared with my good eye which, as you might imagine, just shut my shined eye.\n\nIt didn't respond, which was fine, so I just kept on shuffling and muttered, \"That's what I thought. I can't be the first sorry sight you've seen.\"\n\nBut after a few meters that dang mouse just hopped up from behind me and matched my speed. I'd shuffle, shuffle, shuffle, and he'd hop to my new spot.\n\nSo it went on.\n\nShuffle. \n\nShuffle. \n\nShuffle.\n\nHop.\n\nShuffle. \n\nShuffle. \n\nShuffle.\n\nHop.\n\nMust have been a few minutes before I was fed up and flicked a little sand at the thing with a curse, \"Get outta here, you little shit!\"\n\nIt easily dodged my pathetic flick of sand, and kept right on following me.\n\nAfter a few more meters I heard a voice say, \"I'm not a mouse, you know.\"\n\nI stopped mid-shuffle. Hard to do, but I managed it.\n\n\"Who's there?\"\n\n\"I am.\" Replied the voice.\n\nI looked around and didn't see anything but the mouse, which was holding its weird hairless ears down under its chin like where hat straps tie.\n\n\"You can't just respond with I. That's just purposefully obtuse,\" I began to shuffle forward again, \"Even for a mirage.\"\n\n\"It wouldn't be a mirage if it's auditory, you know. It'd be a *hallucination*.\" This time that voice was accompanied by a soft *whump*.\n\nThe same soft *whump* that mouse made every time it hopped beside me.\n\nI looked down and there the dang thing was, its weird little hands together like it was praying. I stopped my shuffle.\n\n\"Am I imagining a talking mouse?\" I stared hard at the thing.\n\n\"I already said,\" The little thing's mouth moved slightly as it spoke, \"I'm not a mouse.\"\n\n'*Okay, then,*' I thought as my jaw went slack, '*I am imagining a talking mouse that is also a prick.*'\n\n\"What are you, then?\"\n\n\"I'm a pinkie,\" It waggled one of its ears, which were a bit pink, at me, \"And I'm a marsupial. Not a mouse.\"\n\n\"Well, I'll be a monkey's uncle. Or a marsupial's uncle, I guess.\"\n\n\"No. No you wouldn't be either of those things.\"\n\n\"Right,\" I blinked a few times, which was easier with my good eye than the shined eye, but the marsupial didn't disappear, \"Well, you're not a mirage. I think. Maybe those sonsofbitches hit me harder than I thought.\"\n\n\"You're a businessman, I take it?\"\n\nI nodded, still quite dumbfounded, and began shuffling in the direction I had been headed.\n\nShuffle.\n\nShuffle. \n\nShuffle.\n\nHop.\n\n\"I didn't used to be a marsupial, you know.\"\n\n\"You don't say?\"\n\nShuffle.\n\nShuffle.\n\nShuffle.\n\nHop.\n\n\"I used to be a businessman, like you.\"\n\n\"And what happened?\"\n\nShuffle.\n\nShuffle.\n\nShuffle.\n\nHop.\n\n\"The red desert hides more than snakes and scorpions. Ancient things are out here.\"\n\n\"Like fossils, huh?\"\n\nShuffle.\n\nShuffle.\n\nStop. \n\nHop.\n\n\"Like relics, more accurately.\"\n\n\"You don't say?\"\n\nIn front of me, almost melting into view from the sky down to the Earth was a dancing image of minarets and shaded windows. A palace like something out of a fairy tale. Redder than the sand, with gleaming blue and gold and white standing out in stripes and swirls and circles. I got the sense that it wasn't too far away, nor was it too close to be easily reached. It was exactly how far I could go.\n\nIt was exactly how far I would go.\n\n\"You won't find people there, you know.\"\n\n\"What'll I find, marsupial?\"\n\nShuffle.\n\nShuffle.\n\nShuffle.\n\nHop.\n\n\"It's Jarabi, by the way. And you'll find whatever it is that did this to me.\"\n\n\"You don't say?\"\n\n\"I really do say.\"\n\n\"Might be worth it.\"\n\nShuffle.\n\nShuffle.\n\nShuffle.\n\nHop.\n\nAnd it went on that way for a while."
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[WP] You achieve enlightenment. All the secrets of the universe are open to you. How you wield this awesome power will change the world forever.
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"Let me ask you a question. If you had the answer to every question you ask yourself, no matter what, what would you do? \n\nWould you amass fortune? Done that.\n\nWould you rise to fame? Also done.\n\nWould you have some altruism and publicize the cure for the great illnesses of your time? Guess what, done too.\n\nWhat? You want to know how I ended here? How can those steps take you here? Where do I start...\n\nLet see, when and where was the start of this journey, ah, yes of course, 8th grade. I was a pretty normal boy at that time, you know. Completely average. Test terrified me, athletics was a pain in the ass, not too few nor too much friends... average, boringly average. Then one day someone, somewhere, decided that it would be funny to give that little immature boy acces to the answers of every question. I really hope I will never cross paths with that person slash entity slash thing or things are going to turn ugly pretty fast.\n\nWhere was I? Ah yes, gaining my curse. Yes it IS a curse. Well, yeah, I really can't remember what was the first question I asked, nor what was the answer. It was so long ago. What I do remember is feeling emotions come and go like waves. Joy, happinness, fear, insecurity, confusion... It wasn't pretty, lots of puking, tears and snot. It was too much for little me, I needed help, adult help. Who can I ask? Mom and dad of course.\n\nPoor stupid little me, mom take it like a joke. Dad also thought it was a joke, but he was somewhat angry that I didn't put an end to the joke. It took quite a beating to learn not to ask anyone about mysterious powers in a \"modern society\". \n\nSo I do what any other teenager that age would do given that power. Become rich, famous and a master of seduction, not in that order though.\n\nAfter that you could see me a lot around betting houses. It wasn't easy for an underage boy to place bets but there is always someone who gives you a hand for the right price. Two months and my dad opinion on my bullshit power make a 180º turn. I was earning in a month more than he in a year. He decided to quit his job and make the bets for me in exchange for all the profits, because you know, his house his rules. At least I had everything I needed plus extras.\n\nYears passed and I hit adulthood. Yeey, fuck you daddy, I'm out. I found myself a nice apartment in the other side of the country and started my own life. Before going away I gave my parents some insights in what they could invest some money so they could keep their lifestyle.\n\nThere I was, at least I could whatever I wanted. A rich and arrogant young man, sharpening his seducting skills with hundreds of flowers. Then one day one of those girls said to me, if you're so smart why don't you go to that quiz show in the tv? Then we would really see how smart you are.\n\nI wish I could have seen her face when the show was aired. It was a show where the winner will keep accumulating money and coming back. I ride that thing to its dead. After a year, everybody was bored of my face, share rates drop and I was given a nice kick in the butt. Understandable anyway.\n\nSo by then I was rich, somewhat famous and jumping from one girl to another. Life was entertaining to some point, at least for a while.\n\nThen a call came. It was my father. Mother was in the hospital. Cancer. You might not know but back then it was hardly curable. I went as fast as I can to see her. Once there my father fell to his knees an begged me to do something. He was desperate. I also thought I had to do something and fast, I could not endure the sight of my mother in a hospital bed. So I decided to cure cancer. \n\nSadly knowing the answer to the problem didn't gave me the tools nor medicines I needed. I tried to create whatever tools and meds I would require to cure my mother but it was too slow, I was too slow. Mom died. \n\nFather never forgave me.\n\nI decided to end my work on the cure and publish my results on medical publications. It was an uproar. Some rich genius without a PhD had cured cancer. Boom, my face was over all the media. Rich guy creates a cure for cancer trying to save his mother. The story was great. Too great in fact.\n\nThose in power saw at that moment that I know a lot of things. If they could make me their asset that could be awesome. But I was still digesting my failure towards mother so I send them away.\n\nWhat do you think happened then? Of course if someone who could discover the cure for cancer and invent for it a great amount of new technologies will not work for them, they could not let me work for others. A week later a rumor appeared in all media, I did not research the cure for cancer in a rushed way, I had it for years, stored in a safe waiting to make profit from it, but my mother falling sick with it made me move and trying to convince doctors to cure her I had to create a nice story. A story that helped me make lots of money selling that cure. \n\nDamn they all. I didn't make a cent out of it. But once the rumor started it became the reality for everybody. People were trying to kill me for being a crook who let their family die. I had to go off the grid to have some peace. I rented a shack in the middle of nowhere under a false name and started a new life a lot more simple. I tried to go back to basics, a hunter gatherer survival life. It was pretty fun.\n\nThen someone found me and now the rumors became really bad for me. I now was a spy slash traitor slash terrorist that had infiltrated and had used a false identity for years.\n\nBut the most heavy blow I received in my life was seeing my father in tv saying that I was not his son, but merely some kind of spy that take his and his wife situation in my favor and that I payed him the medical bills of my mother in exchange of him looking elsewhere when I told my story.\n\nIt was devastating for me. I lost all faith in humanity that same moment. I tried to flee but was captured.\n\nThey knew. Father had told them about my power. They tortured me to acquire their answers. It was hell.\n\nAt one point when that shit was starting I asked myself how can I end this forever easily? The answer crushed me. Cease to exist.\n\nI swallowed slowly, and tried again. How can I end this forever without killing myself? And there it was a complex plan of escape and action.\n\nSadly it was not only complex but also terribly slow. I remained there for something more than 20 years.\n\nAfter escaping I disappeared from the world. I ceased to exist for everyone else. I've changed my face and went off the grid again. Before that I started some rumors myself getting the world focus out of myself. I developed some medicines for my personal use and contined to live by myself, isolated from the world. \n\nTill a month ago. The world decided they needed more lands and I was forced to return to society. Lucky me, you all people had forgotten all about me. Well it's normal, that was all more than 200 years ago..."
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[WP] You're pretty tolerant but lately roommate has been leaving half-eaten meals lying around. This wouldn't be a problem if your roommate stopped bringing people home and eating them.
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"\"Dammit, Jeff...stop leaving body parts in the kitchen sink until they start to decay! Take the parts you want and bury the rest. It's that simple!\"\n\nMark was a serial killer and had originally thought that living with Jeff, who was a cannibal, would workout perfectly since he would eat Mark's victims leaving minimal cleanup. Unfortunately, Jeff turned out to be a slob. While he would take a few choice pieces like the heart, brain, liver and kidneys, he would the rest of the body to putrify along with splattering of blood, arms, legs, guts, torso, and the occasional head scattered throughout the house.\n\nWhen Mark decided to stop bringing his victims home, forcing Jeff to look for his own victims to feed his cravings, he would bring them home and torture them for days before killing them. The screams of Jeff's victims as he poured acid into their ears would wake Mark up at night and also drew attention from neighbors to the point that one actually called the cops on them. Thankfully at that time, Mark fabricated a lie and said the him and Jeff were having a three way that got loud at which point the two young cops didn't want to investigate further.\n\nDespite tricking the cops, the neighbors have been coming increasingly suspicious of them seeing so many people coming into their house and not coming out again. Last week, he even caught a group of young kids around 12-13 trying to break into the house that he had to scare away. Now, he could still see the kids hanging out across the street looking at his house with binoculars and writing things down. Kids will be kids he supposed, but didn't want to be caught because of Jeff. \n\nJeff was one of Mark's best friend, but he wasn't worth getting arrested. For Mark, he had two options: forfeit his deposit or get a new roommate.",
"It was a long day at work. Missing cases were piling up across the city, three of them alone in this week. Captain Jones had been breathing down my neck, demanding that some progress are made on these cases or there would be serious repercussions.\n\nAs I dragged my feet to the porch of my house, a nicely fenced up property at the edge of the suburb, I could still picture the stack of files lying on my desk. Just barely two months here, and already I had to deal with 15 missing persons. I groaned heavily.\n\nMy tired fingers slid the keys into the lock and turned it, only to notice that the door was already slightly ajar. Alarmed, I immediately reached for my gun. I stood still for a minute, taking in my surroundings. There were muffled noises coming from inside the house. \n\nMy gun in my left hand, I pushed the door quietly with my right, keeping my body close to the door. \n\nThe first sight that greeted me was a bloodied leg lying near the hallway, its thigh bone clearly protruding from one end. It was most likely ripped apart from the rest of the body. It was still in jeans, splattered with blood. An expensive Nike shoes laid nearby.\n\nImmediately I knew what was happening, and closed the door quickly before anyone passing our house caught sight of the leg. \n\n\"Barnabas!\" I hollered, once I was sure there was nothing suspicious outside the house. \n\n\"Down here!\" A reply came from the basement, followed by noises of bones cracking and gnawing of teeth. I could feel anger bubbling inside me. I stormed across the hallway, ignoring the trail of blood and more pieces of clothing, straight down to the basement.\n\nAnd true to my prediction, Barnabas was there, hungrily tearing off flesh from a teenage male. It was a messy sight. I found the other leg lying by the broken washing machine. I had to take a deep breath to stop myself from exploding. I pressed my fingers on my forehead, but Barnabas paid no heed to me. He was too busy enjoying his meal.\n\n\"How many times must I tell you...\" I began, trying to keep my voice calm, \"to not leave body parts of your victim lying around?\" I walked closer to him as I said that.\n\nHe turned towards me, dropping his now dead victim to the floor. The chest portion had been cleanly bitten off, leaving only the hands and head dangling grotesquely. A sight that is sure to make any normal person belch, but it was a sight that I was almost too used to. After all, 14 other bodies laid buried in my backyard.\n\n\"I'm sorry... but I couldn't control myself. He was lost and looking for direction, and I saw an opportunity that I could not miss,\" Barnabas's voice was almost pleading. \n\nI would have killed Barnabas a long time ago if I could, had he not been my roommate, my brother. He was the only family I had left in the world, and I promised my parents that I would take care of him. There's only one downside, he's incredibly susceptible to bloodlust. If it's up to him, he would be feasting everyday on human flesh without a single thought about the consequences. Even if that meant getting found out and killed.\n\nI don't blame him though, because it was the defining characteristic of our species. Our parents were killed the same way, having ventured too far into a human village without realizing it was a trap. I was the odd one out, as I was able to better control my bloodlust, blending into society. It was what kept Barnabas and I alive for so many years.\n\nBefore I could reply, however, my thought was broken by a shrill sound of our doorbell. The timing could not have been worse.\n\n\"Stay here and keep quiet, do not move,\" I motioned to Barnabas and he nodded, before taking the body with him and disappearing to the dark corner of the basement. For all his impulsiveness, at least he could still listen to instructions.\n\nI hastily made my way upstairs to the front door, stealing a peek through the keyhole. The day could not get worse. Captain Jones. He pressed the bell several times again, his face clearly unhappy. I hated this guy since the first day of my job. Cursed under my breath, before hiding the mangled led in the shoe cupboard next to the door, and living carpet over to cover the bloodstains.\n\nConfident that nothing would seem suspicious, I opened the door halfway.\n\n\"Captain Jones,\" I exclaimed, trying to act surprised, \"what brings you to my house after office hours?\" I forced out a fake smile.\n\nHe eyed me suspiciously, before bringing out a notepad. \"We received a call about another missing person. And guess what, according to witnesses, she was last seen at your house?\"\n\n\"What?\" I put out my best surprised voice, \"They must have it wrong. I've just reached my house and everything was usual. Nothing out of the ordinary. In fact I was heading to take a shower.\"\n\n\"You sure about that?\"\n\n\"Yes Captain Jones, I'm pretty sure about it. There was nothing suspicious when I came home just moments ago. If it helps, I can let you in the house for a check, and I can go back with you to the office if it's needed to track this new missing person down.\" My hand secretly reached for my gun.\n\nCaptain Jones relaxed at my reply. \"It's okay, the witnesses account were sketchy anyway.We'll look at this tomorrow, you need all the rest you can get.\" He turned away from the door, and walked back towards pavement.\n\n\"Thank you Captain. I will make sure to find this teenage boy tomorrow,\" I shouted back to him as he was halfway through my front yard.\n\nI did not realize my mistake until he turned back towards the house, gun pointed straight at me. There was a strange smirk on his face, like a child finally figuring out a secret. \"I remember saying the victim was a she.\"\n\nI knew from that moment onward that Barnabas and I would have to move again.\n"
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[WP] You realise your world is a simulation, and rescue humanity accordingly, only to realise the real world is itself a simulation, and its outerworld is identical to the simulated world you were in to begin with.
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"The massive alien starship screamed past, beam weapons tearing through the night. \n\nJust as Deckan primes the last Fusion Bomb for launch, a wave of sickness flowed past. The screens went dark, his vision blurred. \n\n******\n\nThe nurse checked his IV, saying something to the Doctor. The windows glowed blue. \n\nBlue. \n\nLike they did on Earth.\n\n\"Are you awake?\", the Nurse asked.\n\n\"Ye-*cough*.. yeah I think... what..?\"\n\n\"You volunteered for the VR re-conditioning after your accident. Do you remember?\"\n\nHe thought back. He had been in an accident. He lifted his arms, and found them both to be prosthetic. \n\n\"We patched you up pretty good, and the program was aimed and making your surgeries stick. Can you tell me what you remember?\"\n\nHe flexed his new arm, clenched and released his artificial digits. \n\n\"The ship I was on exploded.\", Deckan replied.\n\n\"Yes, very good. You were saved by a SARS team.\"\n\nPain streaked across his temple. His prosthetic twitched.\n\n\"Don't worry hun, they will get sorted in time. You're all healed though, so after the last rounds of PT you'll be ready to make cargo runs again\", the Nurse said with a smile. \n\n********\n\nDeckan sat on the bridge of his new ship. His company wanted him back, he was apparently a good pilot.\n\nHe couldn't remember much though.\n\nHe flew a lot, and all he could remember is the combat sims against the crazy alien starships.\n\n\"*...all to test your reflexes...*\", he said to himself, mocking the nurses patronizing tone in falsetto.\n\nHe didn't remember spaceflight being so *boring*.\n\n*******\n\n\"There's nothing you can do?\", Deckan cried.\n\n\"No sir, the accident-\"\n\n\"I fucking know. I was told the radiation damage was healed!\"\n\n\"Healed, yes... But the sterility\"\n\n\"Sterility fuck you! fuuuck!!\", Deckan shouted, crawling out of a dizzy spell and storming out of the office.\n\nHe felt bad about it briefly, knowing the Doctor was just doing his job. Deckan was just doing his job too before the explosion. His new wife ran to catch up.\n\nThe explosion....\n\n*******\n\nThe sky waned purple and orange. Mrs. Deckan smiled into her husbands eyes. He had lost his 4th bout of cancer, and wanted to pass away somewhere peaceful. The ocean beyond sighed gently.\n\nHis shipping empire and lack of heirs made him particularly wealthy. He had long since forgotten about the prosthesis, and the explosion. \n\nHe smiled back, breathed a slow \"I love you\"...\n\nHe did not inhale again.\n\n***********\n\nDeckan hit the deck hard. Glaring light tore into his cornea, the makeshift clinic was filled with the moans and wails of the injured. The dying. The stretch of blood and viscera make him heave.\n\nHis prosthetic hurt, a lot. Blood on his bandages was fresh. The crude device reacted to his thoughts though, and he was able to get to his knees. \n\nA man named Charlie spotted him. Deckan struggle to remember how he knew...\n\n\"Deckan you crazy fuck! You lived?!\"\n\n\"Wh-What?\"\n\n\"I thought you died in Sigma Erandi.\"\n\nThe sim? The Aleins?\n\n\"You really jacked up that Saurothrop auxiliary though. Setting off a fusion bomb that close to yourself? Damn dude you cray..\"\n\nDeckan threw up onto the already disgusting floor. A passing nurse tossed some sani-sand onto the area, so it could soak up his blood and barf. \n\nHe looked up to find Charlie waiting with his hand outstretched. \n\n\"I'm here to round up any living pilots, and the VI says you are fit for duty.\"\n\nDeckan thought to interject in the pause, but Charlie kept talking.\n\n\"They found the Vagabond, Deckan. If you aren't in a cockpit, you're dead.\"\n\nHis face was no longer jovial, it was dead serious.\n\n\"The Saurthrop are the sim... whats happening?\"\n\n\"The Saurothrop are real. Your cushy life on Earth was fake. They killed us, they blew it all to hell! Now get off the blasted deck before I hose you myself.\"\n\nCharlie yanked him up, his artificial legs squelched under their first load. \n\nThe deck shuddered underneath them.\n\n*The battle had already started.*"
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[WP] You work at the gates of heaven, deciding who gains entrance. God tells you he has decided to get with the times, and your now to judge people based on their browser history.
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"“You cannot pass.”\n\n“What? Why?”\n\n“Your browser history is very disturbing.”\n\n“My what?”\n\n“Your browser history. No one may pass through the pearly gates except through me. My decision is final and I am given the authority to access your browser history and judge you accordingly. You may not pass.”\n\n“This is ridiculous. I am an upstanding citizen. I pay my accounts and taxes, I vote, I do jury duty and attend church religiously. I tithe for goodness sake. I don’t smoke, drink or take drugs and I help out the needy. Why would my browser history stop me from my just rewards?”\n\n“Oh you will get your just rewards, just not this reward. If you take that little gravel path down the hill it will take you to your destiny.” \n\n“No, I must protest. What on earth has my browser history got to do with my moral standing?”\n\n“Look pal, I don’t make the rules. The big guy upstairs decided to modernise and he threw out the old book and got us all into a computer course and now we hack your computers to see what you search for. Some are pretty straight forward. The creepy porn guys don’t even get this far. Yours is a bit weirder than usual but it definitely shows a macabre bent that is not in keeping with the gentleness of beyond those gates.”\n\n“Hey what’s holding up the line. Is he in or out?”\n\n“What’s your problem? It’s not as if we are in a hurry anymore. Just shut up and wait your turn.”\n\n“Who are you telling to wait their turn. You shut up.”\n\n“Shut up you two. This was so much easier before computers. We could just smite them and send them downstairs. Now I have to check their browser history too and you would not believe the sorts who get through these gates nowadays. Let me just recheck your history. There, how to garrotte for the smaller woman, how to load a semi-automatic, pitfalls of the rifle kick back, how to tan the hide of a tattooed skin without damaging the ink – my goodness – how to bruise without it showing, poison for the enthusiast, how to tie a hangman’s noose – oh dear – disposing of a body in a pig farm, fungi for breaking down flesh in a hurry, how to burn down a house without leaving clues for forensics – really this is just too much. I cannot possibly allow someone with such a horrifying search history into heaven.”\n\n“No, this is all wrong. You have it all wrong. You can’t judge me by my browser history. It is all work related. I had to find out those things for my job. Please you have to let me talk with someone in management. I am a good person, I really am a good person. Please don’t do this please it is just my job.”\n\n“Your job? What kind of job do you do?”\n\n“I’m a writer.”\n\n“Take that gravel path on the left.”\n\n",
"\"Technically speaking, it's not *bad*.\"\n\n\"It is for the animals, Gabriele.\"\n\n\"Honestly, they seem to be enjoying it.\"\n\n\"If you said that about a rape case, you would be eviscerated.\"\n\n\"Well, the eels might not enjoy it. They don't have enough brains to understand what is going on. The horses, though. They're having a good time.\"\n\n\"No. We're not letting him in.\"\n\n\"Pete, come on. Give him a break. He was kind to his mother. Never jay-walked. Felt guilty when he ignored homeless people. He's a good soul.\"\n\n\"As a dog-owner, it is my moral obligation to shut this guy down.\"\n\n\"Let's see what he has to say.\"\n\nWe turned to face the new guy.\n\n\"Hey. Gary, isn't it? Please, tell us - what appeal do you see in these videos?\"\n\n\"Um... well... I mean... who doesn't like animal tea-parties?\"",
"\"Mr. Anderson, I ca't let you through those gates,\" I stated as I flipped through the brown leather folder on the table in front of me. On its cover was a label with the name, ANDERSON FERRON, carved on it. Mr. Anderson crumpled to his knees and started sobbing, tears trailing down his cheeks like a running river flowing down a high mountain. It was depressing really. If only Mr. Anderson had died and hour earlier. He could have walked through those Gates without permission and the Sentinels would not have even blinked and eye. People like Mr. Anderson are one in a million. Heaven deserved people like him. I examined his files a little more and took note of the several acts he had done back on Earth. Years of community services. Thousands of dollars donated to several charity organizations. Now condemned to spent his time in Hell all because of a single act. If anybody had to be punished, it had to be those beggars. Those beggars who had tried to save Mr. Anderson when he suffered a sudden heart attack by attempting to carry out CPR on him. Sure it didn't save him, but it had held back his soul long enough for The Grand Council to pass The Modernization Act. Now, Mr. Anderson will never be able to walk through those gates.\n\n\"Get out of line! He said you were going to Hell, so go to Hell! There are other people behind you, you know?\" shouted a man behind Mr. Anderson, clearly irritated at the whole situation. Being the next in line, the man was most like annoyed at the sudden delay. I stared at him for a few seconds, hoping that my eyes were enough for him to receive the message I was hoping to convey. Immediately, his eyes were flooded with terror and he apologized. \"I...I'm sorry. It's just that I didn't want anybody to wait any longer, you know?\" he interjected afterwards. I sighed and refocused my attention back at Mr. Anderson, who met my eyes fully. I knew that he was hoping that I would reconsider my decision.\n\n\"Mr. Anderson, the reason you can't walk through those Gates is because-\" I halted half way and gulped. I didn't know if I could tell him the truth. No one deserved to go to Hell because of it. No one.\n\n\"Because?\" he asked curiously, clearly hoping to receive an explanation that was sufficient. I looked at him one more time, just so I could remember what he looked like before he was sent away.\n\n\"Because your browser history showed that you had looked up in Google, \"Why do people like cats so much? They are annoying\". That's a greater sin under the new decree. 70,000 years of being food for maggots; minimum. Take him away,\".\n\n\"Wh-What? No, you must be wrong! There must be some mistake! Please, no! Ple-\" screamed Mr. Anderson desperately as from the ground, several hands covered in blood and filth sprouted from the ground and started to drag him down into the pavement. The air was filled with a sudden chill as an ominous chanting echoed through the holy air. The cries of Mr. Anderson got softer and softer as the demonic hole slowly covered itself up. Soon enough, the place where Mr. Anderson once knelt was now nothing more but a well polished marble floor. The faces of those in the crowd were unmoved. They had been queuing up for a few years now. They had seen this a thousand times already. To them, it was like somebody being kicked out of the door.\n\n\"Alright, next!\" I shouted to get the line moving again. The man who was complaining previously smiled at me brightly, clearly trying to buy me over with his positive personality. I sighed and sifted through the brown leather folder on the table in front of me. On its cover was a label with the name, JOHNY DAGEN, carved on it. I examined his file for a few minutes as Mr. Johny waited anxiously, playing with his robes and brown curly hair. I closed his folder soon afterwards and smiled at him. \"Congratulation. Your browser history shows that you have watched all of the 'Funniest Cat Vines' video ten times each. That is a one way ticket to the Upper Level of Heavens. Welcome, Johny Dagen.\"\n\n\"About time! I knew that I always belonged in Heaven. Can't wait to see those angel babes!\" exclaimed Mr. Johny happily as he rushed towards the gate, clearly unable to hold back his excitement. The Sentinels watched him, but barely blinked an eye as the Gates opened up for Mr. Johny. Heaven was going to receive some...'new' people.\n\n\"Alright, next!\" I shouted to get the line moving again. It was going to be a long eternity.\n\n\n"
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[WP] He shot without looking... and missed.
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"It was fear which brought it all upon him.\n\nThe fox had run under the hedge and they could see it darting across the clearing beyond with the hounds close behind. He was leading the hunt, but as he approached the ledge to leap his horse across , he slowed and failed to jump. The other riders piled behind him as he tried to move from the way, but the damage was done and the chase had lost momentum at the crucial jump. The riders milled about and looked at him with disdain. It was young Lord Astor who spoke what they all were thinking.\n\n\"You are a coward to slow your horse, a coward!\"\n\nThe riders ceased their banter and movement and all eyes fell upon the two gentlemen. Such insult required remedy.\n\nHe spoke, meekly and without confidence. \"You offend me. An apology is required.\"\n\nLord Astor laughed. \"There will be no apology. I intend to settle this on the field.\" He spat at the young man whose horse jerked backwards at the affront.\n\nThe young man spoke quietly again. \"So be it. Here at dark with pistols. We will settle this.\" He spoke the words but hated that he did so. They were right, he was a coward and he wouldn't win. But he was required to stand and die, he was too much of a coward to disappoint his father and family.\n\nAs the horsemen rode from him, he sat still on his horse and cried at his predicament. There was nothing to be done. He looked at the wet grass around him and the hedged fields spreading in the distance, this was where he would die.\n\nThe hours passed quietly. The air seemed sweeter than ever before knowing each breath was his last. He gazed at the landscape with appreciation he had never known, each small blade of grass he saw with greater clarity, each sound of the songbird sounded as the last sweet orchestra to his ears.\n\nAs he stood across from Lord Astor, he wept in his heart that he would never see another sunrise. He rose the pistol, looked away, and fired. He missed, the round impacting in the hedgerow behind Lord Astor.\n\nHe stood still as Lord Astor raised the pistol and pointed it in his direction. He closed his eyes. He felt the impact before he heard the bellow. He fell. The grass was cool against his cheek, and the blood warm as it spread from his chest. He opened his eyes and saw the world askew and the grass rippling in the breeze. He looked out at the sunset and as he breathed his last breath he felt the fear slip away."
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[WP] you thought asking that genie for immortality would be a good wish, but his "catch" is that you lose a good deal of your memory after each week. You've been able to keep journals of every week for thousands of years with little trouble, but a recent house fire leaves you, well, clueless.
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"It is the *moment* that I never forget. Regardless of how much of me was lost when the clock struck midnight on Sunday each week, I still remembered the moment I got exactly what I wished for. It was the greatest moment of my life--it was the worst moment of my life.\n\nRome. 508ish BC is what they call it now. At least that is what I've come to believe this week. I was a soldier. I don't remember anything about the man I was other than discovering the cave, finding the lamp that didn't fit any manner of craftsmanship I knew, and letting the Genie out of it's prison. Three wishes? Isn't that what they are supposed to give you? I guess that is what the folklore says. It only gave me one. Maybe I forgot the other two or maybe I'm remembering it correctly. It doesn't matter. My memory isn't what it used to be. The one I clearly remember is asking for immortality. That wish, it seems, was granted.\n\nI leaned up in bed and reached for the pack of cigarettes on the table next to it. There was no thrill from lighting it up, but it seemed to calm me down a little bit. The long slender body beside me moved and then settled down again. She was a good distraction from the impending doom on the other side of Sunday. That would be it for me. The last recollection lost. I did everything I could to archive the things I remembered, but there wasn't enough time or paper to cover the years. It wasn't like it mattered anyway. Everything in my head was about as trustworthy as the woman who went home with me after a few drinks.\n\n\"What time is it?\" She asked as her eyes blinked open.\n\n\"Saturday.\" I said, answering with the only frame of time I recognized.\n\n\"I mean, what *time* is it. I know what day it is.\" She looked over at my clock, which reflected 10:42.\n\n\"Just get out.\" I said harshly, rolling out of bed and walking to the window with the cigarette dangling from my lips.\n\n\"You're an asshole.\" She grabbed her clothes and started putting them on with multiple angry huffs and disgusted puffs.\n\n\"Whatever.\" I said. The cool breeze from the door slamming sent the drifting smoke into a spiral and then it dissipated as quickly as she disappeared.\n\nA notebook on the table held all of the contents of the life I could remember. It wasn't much. Most of it was just memories of me reading about the events and not the events themselves. From what I had pieced together, I wrote everything down once I realized my memory was being consumed by the gift I was given. I had lost so much--I made sure to write about the times I lost my writings. I tried to re-write them, but I wasn't sure I could trust my brain's second hand recollection brought on by the things I had read.\n\nA week prior to that day, I had lost everything in a fire with only a day remaining until my memory was consumed. In my own handwriting, I told myself the story of how I had lost pieces of my history until the only part of my brain left to destroy was the memory of the previous week. Every Sunday, I lost it all. I didn't even remember the fire but my notebook told me what happened. Years and years of my life, gone when a cigarette fell from my fingers and started burning my life away while I was passed out in a drunken stupor.\n\nCigarettes. I was addicted to them. Without them, I got angry. Alcohol. It was necessary. Without it, I got sick. Money was no problem. I had an ATM card and a bank account that would make politicians blush. Those were the main things I needed to know. Those things were on page one. Everything else was garbage and ramblings of my feeble attempts to remember the things I had read.\n\nWith my previous night's distraction gone and an ache in my stomach I attributed to the alcohol leaving my system, I grabbed the nearest bottle and started drinking. It was the only thing I knew how to do. I drank and smoked until my supply was gone. Daylight turned to darkness and I needed another fix, so I walked to the store I had discovered the previous Sunday. They seemed to know me. Apparently I was a regular. I swiped my card and walked back to my apartment with enough booze and smokes to keep me going for a couple of days. I thought about going out, but it didn't seem like it was worth the effort.\n\nImmortality. I wanted a body I couldn't damage and I got it. I wanted to live forever and apparently I was going to get that. I had witnessed the greatest events in history, yet I couldn't remember a damn thing. I had probably fathered a hundred bastards, yet there was no glory in their creation. Hell, maybe I couldn't even have children. My notebook didn't mention any. The clock ticked away and I sat down with alcohol coursing through my veins to pen a letter to the man who would wake up wearing my skin.\n\n*Your name is John. You are immortal. Have a drink and a smoke. You'll hate life soon if you don't. There isn't much else to say. Welcome to hell.*\n\nI drank until I could barely stand. I stabbed out the last cigarette I would remember and crashed into bed. The letter was placed on the bed beside me. That would be the first thing he saw when he woke up. If he reacted like I did when I found it, he would ignore the advice until he started getting sick and wanted to punch a hole in the wall. Eventually, he would give in. The cycle would begin again. Another week he wouldn't remember. Another life I wouldn't remember.\n\nThousands of lives forgotten. It was the price of living just one life, forever.\n\n",
"Not many people visits the pub during the day, but there I was. Sitting alone in the corner, accompanied only by a Margarita, while the owner was watching a football match replay. There were three other patrons, a middle aged man who was watching the match with the pub owner and a pair of couple in their 20s.\n\nMy hands were flipping through a small notepad, my only possession left after the fire that burned down my house yesterday. Written in bold, cursive strokes on the front page were the words: \"When you need help remembering.\" Which seem aptly written for a moment like now.\n\nThe fire department had chided me for hoarding so many books in a tight space, creating a natural fire hazard that is just waiting to burn. But what choice do I have? The books meant a lot to me, that I remember. That they are records of what I have lived through, my joys and sorrows. My entire life. I know that I have to write, just last week I wrote an entry of recent happenings in my life. \n\nBut what exactly happened again? And why do I keep penning my memories down? Perhaps this notepad lying before me had an answer. I flipped to the second page.\n\n\"Your name is Edward Thornton,\" the words begin, in a smaller font now, still in the same cursive font. I wondered if I was the one who wrote these words. \n\n\"And you are an immortal.\"\n\nThe notepad had only 5 written pages in total, but it was enough to tell me who I was. A guy who thought it would be smart to ask a genie for immortal life thousands of years ago, only to be inflicted by a memory curse, where I would be unable to remember things for longer than a month. \n\nThe notepad ends with the line explaining the reason I write, which is to help me remember everything that has happened. But now they are gone, along with thousands of years worth of memories. How am I supposed to move on from here? \n\nI buried my face in my hands and let out a rather loud, dejected sigh.\n\n\"Having problems, young man?\" came a voice next to me. I turned to face the pub owner, who must have finished watching his match.\n\nI shifted my attention back to my half finished drink. \"Even I tell you, you wouldn't believe me.\"\n\nThe owner looked at me quizzically, pondered for a moment, before seating himself opposite me. \"Try me,\" he challenged.\n\nHaving nothing to lose, I told him everything that I could remember. About the house fire. About how I just learned that I was an immortal. About how I cannot remember for more than a month, and how I needed to write them all down in books to remember. About how I lost all memories in one night. And how afraid I am now to move forward, to continue living. How am I supposed continue recording my memories down now?\n\nThe pub owner nodded at my every word, as if he understood the feelings that I'm going through. When I finally stopped, he leaned closer to me, looked me straight in the eye and asked, \"Have you ever heard of blogging or cloud storage?\"\n\n-------------------------\n\n/r/Dori_Tales",
"I sifted through the ashes of my home, letting the black soot powder my fingers. The fire department told me the unnatural amount of paper posed a significant threat of fire so that even the smallest fire could turn my once warm and welcoming home into embers. In the frantic aftermath of the fire, I apparently scribbled a note and left in my pocket, telling me that I was an immortal who suffered from short term memory loss. A few days after the accident, I understood that my memory never stretched more than seven days, which made me wonder if the immortality bit was true. \n\nIf I were truly immortal, I figured my house was filled with journals detailing countless adventures and memories, heartbreaks and loves, and family and friends. I slumped into a depression as I documented my new life in a small, paperback journal, each entry entering newer and deeper melancholy. My whole sense of identity evaporated as I speculated my birthplace, my careers, and my education. Did I hail from some European dynasty as an incredibly wealthy and powerful aristocrat or did I work my hands to the bone as a peasant in the fields? Did I ever learn the art of carpentry or the science of baking? In all my eons, did I ever make a great discovery or witness some great, defining historical moment? All the memories of the past burnt in a blaze, I am no more than a man of the present faced with the future. \n\nWith my home rebuilt and several tomes already written, I began to form a new identity for myself. Everything left behind in a former time is gone and dead; to wander through the darkness of the past without a candle is to lose yourself today. I accepted a simple job as a store clerk and looked forward to the future I would make. Not hindered by past experiences, I could rebuild myself in any image I desired. Without the fear and trepidation of past mistakes weighing on my shoulders, I felt liberated to run wildly into the future and never look back. \n\n*****\n\nr/Andrew__Wells"
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[WP] Nazi research into the occult has succeeded and have begun fielding monsters and beings from their tales and stories to devastating effect. Other countries begin to do the same with their stories, however one decides that instead of monsters, they'll aim for the heroes from these tales.
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" \nA roar set aloud, marking the beginning of a new era. \n\nThey said that one of these Ahnenerbe Institue had succeed in summoning a Wyrm. Immediately, the whole institute was scorched, in fire and ice, thus causing a huge explosion due to suddenly rising of pressure. 78 bodies were found, most of them were scientists and archaeologists.\n\nA pregnant one.\n\nGetting request from their allies, Japan and Italy immediately sent the best of their sorcerers, in attemp to control the abhorrent being. However, the cost wasn't small after all : most of them became crippled or handicap, and the Wyrm had been killed in the process. Eventhough, they had found the nest and all of these cocoons. It was 1941. \n\n2 months later, Britain was invaded. Nazi's Wyrms sunk their ships and Wywerns burnt London, mostly to ashes. The Royal Air Force was futile, their planes were no more than passerine to eagle compared with these Wyvern. Their thick, impenetratable scales and their fire had almost brought the world to the brink of being dominated by the Axis. \n\n\nOn the other side of the Atlantic Ocean...\n\n\" Sir, we have some news .\" Sergent James Buckethoff quickly dashs into the Colonel's Office. \n\n\" Good news or bad news ?\" \n\n\"Both, sir. Our Counter-insurgency Department have finished decrypting an Enigma, it contains a code showing that they are going to invade Greenland in the next two months and they are preparing for that.\" The Colonel sighs, in which he almost gives up all of his hope. America, the final fortress against the Supernaturals, finally will be invaded.\n\nWith no hope, he asks \" What about the other one ? \"\n\n\" We believe that we have found the tomb of Merlin, sir. I think that we now can conduct the Wild Hunt ritual.\""
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[WP]A local lighthouse has sat abandoned for decades, with no one tending to it. But when the fate of the surrounding village at stake, its beacon alights once more.
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"\"Huzzah, me lorde! The light house shineth anew!\" My squire Chauncey said bursting into my keep. I lay in my grand bed. Gold and satin adorned the pillows and sheets while a young French whore lay by my side after a night of love making. \"What the Devil do you mean bursting into my chamber like this, Chauncey?\" I demanded. \"The light house, sire! The beacon shineth like the rising sun on a fine Sunday morning!\" Chauncy cried pulling back the lavender curtains the covered the casement windows that overlooked my kingdom. The morning light poured into my chamber reflecting off the French whores glistening red hair. \"Nonsense old boy, that light hasn't shined in years. You must be imagining things.\" I said sheepishly while rubbing my eyes. \"No, sire! Look!\" Chauncey exclaimed while pointing out the window. I arose from my bed, cock dangling between my legs, and approached the window. The light was so bright I shielded my eyes with my hand. \"The sun hath never seemed so bright!\" I muttered. \"Me lorde, it is 3:00 AM!\" Chauncey interjected. I looked at him, his eyes were wide as saucers. I then turned my gaze out the window. By jove! Chauncey was right! It was still night time but the light from the lighthouse was so bright it seemed like high noon! \"Chauncey, get the small council together. Now!\" I said patting Chauncey's back. He scampered off as I stood there amazed. The French whore awoke and meandered toward me. \"Did we really sleep in this late?\" She asked. I stood there gobsmacked. \"Sire?\" She inquired as she put her arms around me. I couldnt help but think \"what does this mean?\"\n\nLater the small council arrived in my chamber. Everyone was visibly shaken. \"It is a sign from God!\" The Very Reverend Archimandrite Rowlins said. \"It is must be left over oil burning due to the metaphysical particles of the reflectary rays!\" Suggested Professor Gustave Toutant P.H.D. \"Some damn Frenchmen must have snuck in there and set it ablaze with some sort of Catholic magic!\" Interjected Lord Commanding General of His Majesty's Navy Fauntleroy. I listened to their wise words and took it all in. Our village was on hard times. The plague had ripped through our town. Houses were quarantined, the dead lay buried in pits near the peripheries of the village, and the villagers resorted to folk magic as even the doctors also succumbed to the vile disease. Not only that our village was no stranger to French marauders. It was easy holding them off when we were at full strength but now with the plague we were short staffed everywhere. Whenever things started to get better they only got worse. A famine struck the land as the climate changed to a dark and dreary that hung over the countryside all year round. These were literally dark times. The people were growing anxious and many blamed me for the hard times. Indeed even I held myself at least partially accountable. There was so much I wished I could do to help but I lay powerless. It was a queer feeling being so powerful on paper but being so powerless in actuality. It seemed God himself was Hell-bent on smiting our village. I pondered the small council's words and observed the light from my keep. \"Uh...me lorde...there is one more person who demands your ear.\" Chauncey said bowing. \"Hmm?\" I replied. \"I said, sire, there is one person who would like to speak with you...sir...\" Chauncey let out. \"Well, who is it?\" Chauncey's eyes turned downward and his arms fled behind his back. \"Um..well sir, I don't mean to waste your time, but it is Charlie, the village idiot.\" I couldn't help but laugh. \"Charlie?! What the deuce does he want? No! We haven't the time to hear the ravings of a lunatic this day!\" I scoffed. \"Sir, he says he knows what is happening in the lighthouse.\" I turned to him. \"Let him in at once then!\" I demanded.\n\n\"Sir, the small council protests! Why listen to the words of an idiot?\" Fauntleroy arose. \"Tis true he may be an idiot but listening to you three has gotten this village nowhere except for ruin and desolation!\" I responded as I rolled open a map of the harbor where the lighthouse sat. \"My liege, if you bring this man in here it will be a grave insult to the small council!\" Rowlins added. \"One more word out of any of you three and I will have you all drawn and quartered! Now bring in Charlie!\" The door to my chamber opened and Charlie came in wearing nothing but a potato sack. He was eating a cricket and was pulling his cock. \"Hehe! The lighthouse sure is pretty!\" He said with a toothy grin. He paced throughout the chamber touching everything and making a hiss at the things he didn't like. \"I hear you know what is going on in the lighthouse eh Charlie?\" I asked. He stopped dead in his tracks. His smile left his face. \"Oh yes...I know...\" He whispered.\n\nTO BE CONTINUED",
"The fog rolls in off the water blanketing all nearby towns, including Eggshire, a small remote town nestled on the east coast protected by dunes and rock jetties protruding out into the rough waves. At the base of the dune lies a desolate lighthouse covered in moss, ivy, and crustaceans. The light, once bright and illuminating, shines no more allowing incoming souls to drift on past a once prosperous town that has since dwindled. The light keeper, an old man by the name of John, still visits his old perch that he used to man for 37 years back when Eggshire was the leading exporter in tobacco. \nThough small and cozy, Eggshire constantly has to defend it's land from intruders. 100 years ago it was the Spanish. Before that was the British. And today, it's the neighboring town. Barbarians from Trumptopia form lines at the gates ready to take charge at a moments notice. With no militia or organized army, Eggshire will surely meet it's demise on this Tuesday evening. One man can change the course of history, one man can save his town. Thinking quickly, John climbs into the old lighthouse and attempts to illuminate the lighthouse with all his might. He has grown weak in his old age, but John manages to muster enough energy to bring a dim light back to the water. \nOne if by land, two if by see, \nWhat is that bright light we do see. \nFrom across the bay there is a shout, \nThey jump in boats and scream \"we out!\" \nTo defend the gates that's our goal, \nEven though your town is a giant shithole. \nThe light guides them in to help save the day, \nGood thing the light reached the other side of the bay. \nJohn saved the day but didn't make it through, \nAll because a Trumptopian threw a dirty old shoe. \n"
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[WP] In hell there is a button which upon activation instantly triggers the apocalypse to happen.
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"From his throne of bones and skulls, wearing a cloak of rotting flesh, Lucifer looked over his pits of torture, where molten metals met with the blood of screaming sinners. Regular business.\n\nLucifer sat back a little. The last few decades had been great. Rising extremism and an almost complete loss of actual believers in many western countries had lead to a massive influx of fresh sinners every single moment. He enjoyed listening to their screams. The new screams though, those were still 'fresh' and still full of fear. \n\nThe longer a sinner was being tortured the less exciting a scream became. The oldest sufferers only screamed because being tortured just hurts. They had gotten used to it.\n\nHe couldn't care less though. Heaven had given him the task to execute eternal suffering so he obeyed like a good devil would do. And why would he even complain about this task? He was the king of the land of sex, drugs and everything that's wrong. No, he liked it here, still an angel but far away from God's dominance.\n\nHe did, however, have to be ready to execute certain orders, which meant doing bad stuff, fun, to make sure the people would 'find salvation' or whatever that shit meant. These orders usually came in the form of an angel courier.\n\n'Order from He the almight-'\n\n'Stop, I know why you're here. Keep it short. The whiteness is hurting my eyes.'\n\n'Well then. I shall.' The angel took a deep breath. 'Appocalypse.'\n\nLucifer couldn't quite believe at first what the angel had just told him.\n'Funny guy, now tell me what's up.'\n\n'No lord, I mean it. He the almighty has sent me to initiate the appocalypse.'\n\nLucifer was quiet for a moment.\n'You mean tha-?'\n\n'Yes.'\n\n'Right now?'\n\n'As quick as possible, yes.'\n\n'Well i ain't the guy to complain or question the big boss's order so here we g-'\nHe was about to press one of the red buttons on the side of the throne when the angel interrupted him.\n\n'Hold on for a moment! He's sending some extra info through. This could be important.'\n\n'Alright alright, I'll wait.'\n\nThe angel wandered of a bit in the direction of the pit where the prostitutes were tortured. Lucifer always liked this and he could see God's white servant did too. He grinned.\n\n'Alright. Plan's changed. He the almighty told me that the humans are already starting an appocalypse themselves. We don't need to do anything.'\n\nLucifer raised his eyebrows. Quickly he ordered a demon to show him what was going on. A television was carried and put in front of the Lord of evil.\n\n'But these are the American presidential elections?'\n\n'Yes, the humans have become quite efficient in creating an appocalypse themselves. He truly has created interesting creatures.'\nThat said, the angel flew off, back to heaven. \n\nLucifer laughed, enjoying the suffering.\n\n\n"
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[WP] After you die, you see the words "Click to Replay" floating in front of you. Unsure of what to do, you press it.
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"\n \"Jackie!!\" a faint voice yells.\n\n\n\"JACKIE!!!!!!!!!! You're going to be LATE!\" the voice yelled again. \n\n\n I lifted my head off of the ground to find myself laying on a grey,blue carpet, I knew this carpet. Stains covered a majority of it and now I there were imprints on my wrists and arms because of its roughness. I looked ahead of me to a semi-open closet with clothes pouring out, but how did I end up on the floor? After I had gotten my dog, Callie, I never even sat on the floor because her hair shed everywhere but there was no dog hair anywhere. \n\n\n \"JACKIE\"\n\n\n The bedroom door bursted open giving me a mini heart attack, i don't want my mom to question why i fell asleep other than on my bed. I get on my knees and look at her but she looks to the bed first. I look with her. My bed looks different, the sheets aren't white anymore, they're pink and the cover....that was my cover from when I was younger. \n\n\n \"What?\" I ask but no sound comes out of my mouth. \n\n\nAgain, i look at the bed as I stand to my feet. There is a body on the bed, the head is buried in the pillow and the arm is the only thing I can really catch a glimpse of. \n\n\n \"Jackie, it's your first day of school, you don't want to be late!\" \n A loud sigh comes from within the sheets. \n \"Come on, baby\" \n\n\n It does not take long for the human to get up, she has my hair color...the dark red color I had for years before I dyed it blonde my senior year of high school. She turns around and....shes me. Confused, I go to look at the mirror placed on my desk- this must be some sort of weird, lucid dream. I read a while ago that in dreams it was impossible to look in a mirror and see yourself and I lived by that rule. Except, I could see myself. My hair was no longer that red color and my skin was no longer as clear as the girls in front of me- not that I am old, I am only 23- but a giant gash runs horizontal on my right cheek and the blood seems like it is brand new. My blonde hair a mess and my clothes....my work clothes....torn....thats right, i was in an accident...it was an accident wasn't it? I was walking home from work, i thought I had made it home safely.... I...I am home...but who is she? The blood stains my fingers as I run them along, stare at it and wonder what the hell is going on. \n\n\n Beside me the girl picks up clothes already picked out the night before. Wait a minute...i think to myself, she's going to pick up a blue v-neck shirt with some stupid tree on it and shorts that need a belt, but shes not going to wear the belt. \n \"Don't wear that\" again, nothing but silence. \n\n\n I move out of her way as she looks at herself in front of the mirror. I remember this, I remember this too well. The night before I started 7th grade I saw a picture of some celebrity with bangs so i cut myself bangs and they looked tragic. The both of us stand in front of the mirror, scary but I really did glow up. After putting on the shirt she would wear at least once a week for the remainder of the year she sits down in front of the mirror. \n\n\n \"Don't do it\" I think as she reaches towards the bronzer \n\n\n\"Please....\" \n\n\n She smears it across her whole face, lips and everything.\n\n \n \"Oh my God.\" \n\n\n The morning routine goes by quicker than I remember middle school mornings going, and before I know it I am back in my middle school. I had not stepped foot in here since I graduated. Middle school is one of the most terrible things that can happen to a person but still, I think 7th grade was my favorite year. I was 2 minutes away from killing myself at one point but, besides that I think I would have done anything to go back to being 12 years old. Though my memory of the school is a little banged up I distinctly remember walking into the wrong homeroom my first day of 7th grade. I was at my dads house the day homeroom came in the mail, I opened the letter excited to facebook message my friends hoping someone would be in it, I looked at the piece of mail once, maybe twice the whole summer and was certain I was in homeroom 502. The thing is though, I wasn't in homeroom 502 even though I could have sworn my life on it. I watch little me walk into a classroom with desks put in groups of 4. On each desk was an envelope with everyones name, everyones but mine. The lady asks me what my name is and tells me I am not in her class so someone from guidance comes down. The situation gets cleared up and I walk into my real homeroom which is right next door, 503. I remember this all so well, I know whats coming and....watching it happen is so beautiful. My heart beats a little faster when I remember what is coming to me, the greatest thing that happened in my life. 502 ends up being my next class after homeroom so I walk next door, and as my memory serves me right the desks are formed in a different way. This time there are two rows with the seats back up against the windows, and two rows with the seats back up against the opposite wall. The teacher says nothing about seeing me maybe 40 minutes ago. All of my friends are in this class, I watch young me talk to them, so full of excitement. To see us all so innocent....unbelievable. \n\n\n The class settles down as the room becomes full and all of us are put in alphabetical order. I stand in the middle of the room and watch myself talk to a friend from across the room, young me doesn' t talk outloud though but somehow the two girls understand eachother. And as I look to my left to see what my friend has to say I spot the boy. I spot him, and when I was 12 years old I thought he was the most beautiful boy ever, and when i was 17 years old I thought he was the most beautiful boy ever. When I was 23, I was at work and for the first time for five years at work on a random Tuesday I thought he was the most beautiful man ever. He was to the right of my old friend and he watched as the two of us conversed from opposite sides of the room. A big smile appears on my face, and a smile on his. \n\n\n As if I am looking a computer screen a giant message pops up, almost blinding me because the backdrop is white. \n\n\n \"Click To Replay\" It reads. \n\n\n Hesitant, I click it unsure of what will happen. Pictures appear in front of me, they are big, they float in thin air and are the size of a television, maybe even bigger. Every few seconds the current thumbnail flies faster than light away to me, where does it go? I don't know. I watch them all shuffle, I see my dad playing barbies with me with a giant play button in front, I see my mom walked holding my brother and Is hand in New York City, I see the same image I had just witnessed minutes ago as a thumbnail, I'm standing next to lockers about to mistakenly walk into the wrong classroom, these little moments I had completely forgotten about....all for me to watch over and over. The last one appears and I see a road, I see me crossing that road. It is dark out and I don't look both ways. A car comes from the right doing 60 or so, I begin to remember. I don't click to watch. I wait a few seconds. \n\n\n I am no longer standing in my 7th grade english classroom, it is white all around me. Again, a message like the previous one pops up in front of me. There are several titles with thumbnails beside me, each woman posed in the thumbnails are different variations of me. All the lives I have lived, right at my finger tips. ",
"Surrounded by the sound of a beating heart, encased in warmth, I remembered this feeling. Suspended in peaceful bliss, inside my mothers womb. \n\nI though \"replay\" was a film reel of my greatest moments, but I'm getting a second chance! \n \nI'm not the me i used to be. I remember my old life so vividly. All of the passion, the believes, the experiences, all which have made me the person i am. or was. The people looking down on me and teaching me their values are not my parents. I take the advice and learn the lessons but something must have went wrong with the replay.\n\nI'm not yet towering over those who used to look down to me but they all gloat about how i'm \"growing up so fast.\" I should be proud. But this is not the real me. I'm losing the memories of the real me and find myself conforming to the believes of these people; my new parents. \n\nI'm fully grown now and out on my own. I don't remember the old me at all but the new me is no longer conforming to the influence of frauds. Deciding on my own believes, i've realized, is better than a fake passion about what was forced upon me. \n\nI'm in the final years of my life now. I have made my own decisions and supported my own believes. New experiences have given me the self pride i know i once had I've surrounded myself with support and love. Tonight i can go to bed content. \n\n\"Click to Replay\"\nNo. This life i will keep. \n"
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[WP] Write a story that seems happy, but turns out sad.
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"The stinging buzz of a loud alarm clock shocked me from slumber. It was another day to get ready for work, I thought, and the warm confines of a soft bed must be abandoned. The windows were still darkened with curtains drawn, but I could see the sun peering through cracks in the fabric. As I peer over to the other side of the bed, there’s a small rose, coffee, and a note. “For you, sweetie. -Marten.” That made it a little easier to get out, even if the coffee was cold. I still could smell his scent in his pillow… \n \nShowering certainly invigorated me. I always like to end it with a splash of cold water to snap me out of any remaining sleep. As I prepare myself for the day, I lay my clothes out on the bed. A crisp shirt, black suit, grey tie… maybe the oxford shoes would work well. \n \nWork was as smooth and upbeat as one could hope for on a bright Spring day. I had been out for almost week, yet I felt I hadn’t lost any rhythm. The boss congratulated me on a huge deal, my own staffers were furtively working out their own problems before approaching me, and lunch in the cafeteria was spot-on with my favorite roast beef sandwich au jus. It would not get any sweeter. \n \nOn my trip home, I stop by for some coffee and pay a visit to my lover. Such a sweet man, he would always leave me flowers or coffee by the bed. For as long as I could remember, his day started earlier than mine had. I pulled up to where he is, parked, and took the small coffee with me. Flowers were in full bloom as I walked the path towards him. There, I found a marker placed but a few days ago. \n \n*Marten Samuelsson. 1976-2016.* I placed the coffee cup beside it and headed back home.",
"Once again I unthinkingly opened the loaf of bread to prepare my morning toast, but as I reach past the end bread my fingers graze upon something unnatural and yet beautiful.\n\nIt was a slice of bread unlike any other, the crust thin but not crumbly the texture was solid but not thick the bread pearly white and emitted a soft glow. I was overtaken by the scent wafting off the bread which was akin to a thousand bakeries filled with supermodels and pumpernickel. This was no ordinary slice of bread, it was the omega slice. The God slice.\n\nI buttered it, the butter sliding off my knife and distributing itself upon this heavenly bread. I carried it to the toaster, but if I were to describe the sensation of doing so, it would have been the bread was carrying me. It actually lifted itself from my grasp and sat itself in the toaster with butter never touching the grill, a feat impossible for normal bread but laughably simple for the God slice.\n\nI began to wonder how long such a bread could take to toast, but I needn't have worried, because no sooner did the bread sink below the surface of the toaster did it spring upward out of the machine, solid gold. The aura this toast emitted was so powerful, my clothes were blown right off me and into the living room. I did not need them where I was going.\n\nSlowly my feet lifted off the ground and I began to float towards the toast, the golden gates opening in the background while a choir of angels sang a song to soothe the soul. I was close. I opened my mouth to receive the toast, to discover the secrets of creation.\n\nThe glowing bread entered my mouth mouth, no crumbs to be seen but the butter was too hot, a scorching inferno. It falls out of my mouth. The bread hits the floor, the butter splattering across the floor viscerally.\n\nI am alone now, naked in my kitchen. The toast dead on the floor, the sight of it could make the angels weep. My wife walks in from work, looks at me and looks at the bread. I could hardly see the tears welling up in her eyes for the tears in mine. The bread was dead, and it's all my fault."
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[WP] "Ah, this is unexpected," you mumbled, watching yourself get stabbed for the third time.
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"Click, Buzz whirr.... the Cassette rewinds and the stage is set again.\n\nWhy doesn't anyone update their systems, what year is this!? \nI think to myself as I press play.\n\nClling, the doorbell rattles and in walks three youths, I am stood in the corner minding my own business, just looking at the nudey mags.\n\n\"Gimme all your money\" said a young man to the clerk, the clerk runs to the back and locks himself into the bathroom.\n\n'Great... perhaps this will be quick' I think to myself, 'snatch and grab no mess.' \n\nI hate mess.\n\nA youth approaches me \"Hey old man your wallet\" I turn round quickly and cut his head off with the machete I had hanging off my belt , as to why we will get to that later.\n\nHe sprays the fridge and myself with blood, I pick up his head. \n\nNo one was looking but they knew something was wrong. I duck behind the next aisle, \n\n\"Came for petrol, Staying for murder\" stated still angry from before I had even arrived... Slowly I walk out into the open with the head behind my back in one hand and the blood soaked machete in the other.\n\nFive paces in front of me one of the boys pisses their pants the other tries to shoulder his way out of the door in a panic, it won't open. he rams it again and again as I take a step he realises it's a pull door, and I see he is no longer a criminal, he is a witness. I throw the machete like I had done so many times at the tree in my back garden. The glass in the door and the boy is hanging limp from it.\n\nThe remaining child looks at me teary eyed frozen, I walk to the door pull the blade from the mess of glass and feel a cold ain in my side. It was a mistake to think freeze panic lasts I kick out and knock the boy to the floor.\n\nSure enough a knife blade pertruding out my side, it stuck on the hip bone and snapped the handle, must have been a knock off switch blade, so thse were dumb kids robbing a shop for chump change. I looked down then at the child holding the broken handle, I toss him the severed head he catches it and freak out.\n\n\"Nooo!!!...\" he cried as he looked at his friend in the eyes, but he was silenced as the machete cleft his skull in half from the top down.\n\nI shouted to the back of the store \"hey, they are gone\" no reply I walked to the door and calmly repeated \"They are gone. It's safe now you can come out\". \n\nThe store owner sheepishly crept out took a quick look at the carnage, turned to me opened his mouth to speak, but, all that came out was the wind exiting his lung as he slide down the steel on my machete.\" \n\n\"No witnesses\" I wispered as I watched the life drift from his eyes. \"Fuzzzzzzzzz...\". \n\nThe tape ends I flick over the channel \n\n\"News at ten 4 dissapear in freak petrol station fire. No evidence of foul play was found at the scene. More on this as it develops\" I switch the TV off. \n\nAs I sit back and look at my life, how did I get here.... Sitting in on another mans bed, drinking his beer, while my wife of 25 years and \"Steve\" lay motionless, their corpses bleeding out over silk sheets.\n\n\"Mommy?..\" A little girl opens the door.\n \nI hit eject, down 'Steves' Beverage and mumble to myself as Yank the machete out of my darlin wifes neck. \"Ah this was unexpected\" \n\n\n",
"######[](#dropcap)\n\n*\"Ah... This is unexpected.\"* As pain blossomed and I fell backwards, the sarcasm that laced into those words seemed lost on everyone but myself.\n\n\"They've slipped the lines! Engage!\"\n\nDistantly I could hear my companion's shouts, and the wild blurring din of violence around me as I was stabbed for the third time. In a disconnected way, my eyes were watching absently as a crudely sharpened bit of wood went about poking another uncomfortably large hole in my abdomen, and I could see the gleeful smile of the disgusting creature holding the weapon. \n\nOf that green and warty mug, a large and toothy glower of vengeance was plastered, muscular arms raised high and ready for the delivery of a final blow. Then, the expression slackened to a more blank and confused state, previous victory replaced by the sharpened length of a familiar shovel that had brained its head in rather deeply. \n\nAs a set of warm hands began dragging me backwards, I could make out hushed words muttered under breath. *\"Oh gods. Oh gods.\"* I heard a voice overhead curse and beg with equal measure, *\"Please be alright. Please be alright.\"*\n\nWhile I watched the red seem to flood out of my gaping wounds, and my ears were overwhelmed by more screams and yells ushered around by stomping feet and clashing steel: My mind floated backwards in time to what lead me into such a fucked up situation. Far before I'd found my insides coming out.\n\nWay back.\n\nAll the way to the beginning, before anything of violence and death had ever entered into the picture.\n\nYou see, I wasn't one you would have pictured fighting for glory or gold in battles of life and death, and I certainly wouldn't have been one to choose such a direction without a lack of alternative options. Contrary to the circumstances which brought me to such this world, this continent, this army, and even particular battlefield: I'd never been a very exceptional person.\n\nQuite the opposite, in fact.\n\nMy life was a long running series of failures and shortcoming. So bad, that my own mental outlook had reached (even at my youngest remembered years) to find itself at a point and level of a mild- yet constant state of paranoia.\n\nFrom a young age I began to recognize I was different, and not in a helpful way. Where I found others learned to do and succeed with apparent ease, I would find myself learning the very same by brutal failures and catastrophic mistakes. For every \"perfect on the first try\" individual who passed me by in academics or skills, I would struggle and fail dozens of times, finally picking myself up to follow their easy successes, exhausted.\n\nNo matter what subject came upon me in my adolescence to young adulthood: It was truly as if I were cursed by some divine act of false-logic, to toil and struggle in the muck in order to find fifty viable ways to do something completely wrong- before the one obvious way to do something right.\n\nIn time, as the years passed, I came to accept it. I came to learn from it. The quirk of failures became a part of me, inefficient and frustrating as the experiences were. When presented with failure, I was not disheartened- but expectant: Before I overcame whatever problems were to come my way, things were going to go wrong.\n\n*There's so much blood. Where is the healer? Please! He's dying!* \n\nThat same familiar voice seemed so far away from me now, but I could hear it through my tired mind.\n\nWhatever combination it was that had lead me to watch my life soak out into the black sand beneath it, I was far from considering their details with any manner of deeper reflection. Instead, I generalized the many: Acknowledging some of them were more an odd combinations of luck, misfortune, (and perhaps even fate- should one believe in such a thing) rather than troubling myself as if they were objects and circumstances I could have avoided by acting differently. \n\nI couldn't change this, couldn't have done much differently. I'd trusted my gut and gotten at least a few holes in it, and that was that.\n\nAll honesty aside, by the very nature of reality as most understood it, I shouldn't have been lying atop a friend's knees, watching their desperate eyes leak tears like a broken faucet. I shouldn't be staring at them, or listening to their shouts pass by in some far-off echoing somewhere in the distance beyond my view: I knew none of what was happening should have happened in the first place. \n\nNot meeting them, not going on adventures- Not even arriving in this world to begin with.\n\nBut it had. \n\nI'd hung on by the skin of my teeth doing everything in my power to keep ahead of the unpredictable madness that haunted every following step along the way. I'd learned what I could, made my mistakes, adapted and strove towards some far-off goal of progress, and even laying on the ground like a sorry sack of spoiling meat drifting towards the silvery brook, I could hold at least a small amount of pride in those many efforts.\n\nI had done everything within my capacity to prepare for the expedition in the few weeks of time I'd had to prepare for it. No stone left unturned, no option left unchecked and followed up: No supplies left behind or gold unspent towards the ultimate goal of our survival.\n\n*Please don't die.*\n\nAs I listened to the oddly comforting sounds of a far-off voice holding back sobs, I watched my vision blur, drifting thoughts carried on without my consent like a winding cable being drawn in. Downward after those I watched, floating in a slow decline along strange avenues in the depths.\n\n*A healer is coming, please.*\n\nWas there something that I might have done different to avoid this? The sole consideration remained, ever vigilantly searching for an quiet answer to right my mistake.\n\n*Don't die. Hold on.*\n\nCould I still avoid this?\n\n*Hold on Jake.*\n\n----\n\n...\n\n**This Story is a continuation of a bunch of other writing prompts:**\n\n[*Start here*](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/51f8ag/wp_youre_such_a_powerful_magician_that_life_is/d7bn3g2)\n\n[*Previous*](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/5c2pea/wp_a_retired_adventurer_lords_over_some_land_and/d9ti6dg/)\n\n[NEXT](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/5caiq4/tt_practice_practice_practice_that_is_how_you/d9v3xyq/)\n"
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[WP] One day, every human lost their ability to die. It has been --- since this event
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"It was something us humans had searched for during our entire existence. The quest for immortality had gone on for millenniums, never before would we have been able to understand the consequence of our wishes. We had been searching for the formula for our entire lives, every day we slept less and less, afraid of the only thing that drove us, death. One day, everything changed. We didn't feel older, we didn't feel tired. We didn't know how, but we had found it, we had found \"the fountain of youth,\" the key to immortality. It spread slowly at first, they were skeptical that something so absurd was possible. But it didn't stop us, we were sure our creation would give everyone on earth their deepest wish. It happened so fast, everyone wanted it, they wanted to run from death, any side effect they were afraid of was nothing compared to the uncertainty they would face during their dying breath. Everyone had it, and at first, it seemed like the world was becoming perfect, our technology started to advance at blistering speeds, so fast that within the first few decades we had already established colonies in space, and cured all of our major diseases. But it did not last forever. It was a slow and painful decline, but we all knew it was happening. We saw the sullen, gray faces, the same that we had seen for what seemed like an eternity. The memory of our young, energetic selves all but forgotten in the daily schedule, carried our like clockwork ever day. All of the people we saw were the same, they never slept, they never ate, they never played, they just sat at their desks, staring ever so intently at their work, their only goal to meet the daily quota. Feelings and conscious were a thing of the past, it was as if the entire human race had suddenly been replaced by robots. Deep down, we all knew the same thing, we had made a mistake, the thought of living in misery like this forever could only be escaped by the absence of thought. There was only one thing that we knew could free us from this, sleep. Not just any sleep, eternal sleep, that is what we had labored every day for so long to achieve, the day had finally come where it was time for us to escape all feeling, and embrace the closest thing to death that would ever grace us. I walked in between the tubes, they were clear, just tall enough for us to fit in, packed tightly together, and stacked so high my worn eyes could not see to the top. I finally found mine, and slipped in, I held the cover in my hand, as I tightened it, all I could manage to say was a silent \"sorry.\""
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[WP] A recipe, but for something much different than food.
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"I first need some butterfly wings which is quite easy. My father helped me gather them before he passed away. He was a *lepeidolg*... a butterfly collector. It has a better name but I always forget it. I am not very smart. I also want to be a butterfly collector when I grow up so maybe I'll know the name then.\n\n*2-4 cm fuchsia butterfly wings; quantity: 2*\n\nI don't know what fuchsia is but those two with blue wings will do. They even have little heart shapes on them so it needs to count or something.\n\n*Water extracted from the roots of a oak tree; quantity: 50ml*\n\nOk, this one is hard. Stacy keeps some water by her bed. That must be special enough too. Although it smells horrible I don't think it will mess it up since it looks like just water. Maybe it's actually gathered from an oak tree. And although I wanted to pour just a little and stupid me managed to spill it all over the floor, it won't matter in the end.\n\n*Dust of lust; quantity: 2-4mg*\n\nWe have dust all over the house since my father died so maybe I'll pour just a tiny bit there.\n\n*Blood of a virgin woman: quantity 25ml*\n\nI don't know what a virgin is but I still have some blood on my hand from this morning and since I'll soon be a woman it surely must count. It hurts but I need just few drops. 25 ml must be like 2 drops.\n\n*Stir everything and leave to rest for 1 day.*\n*NOTE: In order for a love potion to work ensure the full quantity is digested in a short amount of time*\n\nTomorrow is the day.\n\n---\n\nBREAKING NEWS\n\nA teenager told the authorities that her neighbour killed his step daughter and hid her in the freezer of the Detroit home where it was found by a police crew. Details of death emerged two days later after intensive investigations. The police reported that the murder happened because the daughter supposedly spilled a bottle of vodka on her bed while the daughter was left unattended. Stacy Glewen, 31, was arrested and could be facing life in prison. Investigations continue.\n\n",
"######[](#dropcap)\nWelcome to Terlingua.\n\nDo not panic. Whatever is happening above you is normal. I need you to trust me. Who am I? I am a friend. Breathe. Deep breaths. I wish I can be there to help you, but I am imprisoned. \n\nNo, you are still alive. The Highwaymen do not kill; they only deliver. Mere messengers. \n\nBut your mortality can change very quickly here.\n\nNo, you can't go home. Not yet. You're here for a reason. \n\nStay within the borders of the ranch. Do not investigate the wreckage of the airliner or the screams of the passengers. It is a trap, albeit a very good one.\n\nYou have something? A piece of shrapnel? Good. Enter the house. Do not be scared. Whoever was inside is long gone. \n\nFind yourself a bowl, cotton balls and a knife.\n\nThere will be a dead demonness in the middle of the common room. The stench will be unpleasant, but bear with me. You will be making a potion that will help you.\n\nYou must act with haste. Our arcane communication will attract...*others*.\n \nFlip it on its side. The secretion from its many pores is just an irritant. It will not harm you. With your knife, make a horizontal cut down her chest between her breasts, beginning at her throat. If you are lucky, then several parasites will emerge from her chest cavity and move about. Stomp on them and retrieve two of the parasites, placing them into a bowl. Mash them into a paste with your tool, until they possess a yellowish consistency. \n\nOnce that is done, sneak carefully to the well across the yard. Keep your body low, so the Hollow Ones do not catch you. Add water to the paste and continue to stir with your fingers. \n\nThere will be a Shrine, but it will not be guarded tonight. Place the bowl onto the top platform. Cut your palm with the knife, and let it leak onto the mixture. Do not be alarmed by the glow. \n\nOnce the glowing ceases, take the mixture and smear it all over your exposed regions of skin with the cotton balls. The others will not be able to detect your presence when you travel. \n\nNow...you must leave. \n\nHead north, towards the burning spire. There will be valuable equipment there. Food, water, rifles and ammunition. \n\nWith your help, we can escape this place for good. \n\n*We're in this together now.*\n\n...\n\n\n\n"
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[WP] You, a world renowned scientist, were just pushed off the edge of a large skyscraper because you owed the mafia too much money. The thing is, you know how not to die.
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"This was never the place he was supposed to be. Dr. Marcus Reddington struggled as best he could against the brutes grip, but the thug bounded up the steps as if the scientist was weightless. A hard crack split the air as the door at the end of the flight broke under the weight of the mans heavy boot. Frigid wind rushed in and stung Marcus' flush face. Feeling his knees drag across the roof of the skyscraper, he knew he was quickly headed toward the edge. \n\nAfter that, he shuddered to think. \n\nThe Corillo Cartel had moved into New York months prior scouting out new opportunities for moving large shipments of cocaine into the Five Burroughs. Cargo crates were too difficult, speed boats were too obvious, mules were few and far between. No, they needed something different. Something in the twenty-first century. \n\n\"You know,\" a voice cut through the noisy wind whipping off the building, \"my job isn't the greatest, but sometimes, it's a real pleasure.\" \n\nMarcus knew the voice. It was Carlos Carillo, Don Frederico's son. Normally the family doesn't get involved personally, but when a quarter of the mobs cocaine shipment disappears all at once, they tend to make exceptions. \n\nThe balding man turned and re-lit his cigarette. The thug dropped Marcus and pressed his face over the edge of the eighty story high rise. \n\n\"There's only one thing I hate more than losing a shipment,\" Carlos bent down and grabbed Marcus' cheeks in his first and jerked it hard, \"and that's repeating myself so let me make this transparently clear. Where is the shipment?\"\n\n\"There's no way of knowing,\" Marcus forced the words out. That was a lie of course. He knew exactly where seventy thousand pounds of cocaine had gone. He smiled. \n\n\"Bullshit,\" Carlos smacked his face hard and pointed at the thug. The burly man hoisted him up and dangled him over the edge. \"That's bullshit Doctor. You're a scientist. You're smart. You figure shit out.\" \n\nThe lights on the ground began to spin. Marcus felt a surge of adrenaline. This plan had to work or he was dead. He looked at his hand. The device was still around his wrist and it was almost fully charged. \n\n\"One more time doc,\" Carlos yelled. \"We paid you to trans, trans-send, send that shit from one place to the next and it's not there.\" \n\n\"You know\" Marcus said, \"it's not as easy as pushing a button.\" It was, but he didn't know that. \n\n\"Do it,\" Carlos said and he took a long drag. \n\n\"Wait,\" Marcus said, \"you'll never get the shipment back if you do this.\" \n\n\"It can be replaced.\" \n\n\"But you can't,\" Marcus said. Carlos glared at him. \n\n\"You aren't a position to be making threats.\" He nodded at the thug. \n\nMarcus felt the rush of the wind and his stomach drop. *Here goes nothing* \n\nIn an instance he was back on the roof and the thug was nowhere to be found. He listened closely and the man's screams could barely be heard. \n\n\"Trans-location you ignorant prick,\" Marcus smiled and Carlos turned around wide-eyed. \n\nThe other henchman sprang into action. Marcus checked his wrist again. He'd told the Carillo family it was impossible to teleport anything but pallet-sized quantities. They didn't need to know all his tricks. He pressed the button again and switched places snatching a pistol from the holster of another and put the far two henchman down. \n\nCarlos panicked and headed for the door. Marcus threw himself from the building and popped the button materializing where the door guard had been. \n\n\"You know what I hate more than repeating myself?\" Marcus sighted him in. Carlos shuddered. The little, fat man's eys darted around until they focused on something behind Marcus. Carlos smiled. He felt a barrel press against the back of his head. *Forgot one* \n\n\"Seems you've got more tricks doc,\" Carlos said flicking the cigarette butt down and blowing a puff of smoke. The last henchman reached around and snatched the pistol from Marcus' hand. \"We're going to be rich.\" \n\n*Not off me*\n\nMarcus flinched and the shot rang out. He saw the back of the henchman's head. He grabbed and twisted as hard as he could. The neck snapped. Carlos fell grasping his chest. \n\nMarcus walked over to Carlos, blood streaming out of his lung. He picked up Carlos' pistol. \"I hate,\" Marcus pressed the pistol to his forehead, \"people who think they can screw me.\" \n\nHe pulled the trigger. \n\n****\n\nEnjoy the story? Subscribe to r/MrGoodread"
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[WP] [TT] A fight between Wizards and Warriors is disrupted when a third party enters the fray
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"The battle had begun at sunrise. The moment the first light touched the walls of Boldrim Keep, the Wizard's charged. The Warriors of Boldrim were prepared and met them in the open field. Leading his own charge, Lord Bradfyre rode with his cavallry. A more furius and gruesome clash of forces was never and will never be seen in these lands again. Bradfyre's horses had no chance to withstand the Wizards vile magic and were torn apart as soon as they came in spitting distance. Though this did not stop the Boldrim Knights, who fought on, cleaving Sorcerers in half and spraying the ground with blood.\n\nBoth sides were confronted with the utmost horrors of war. Soon the bodies started to pile up high enough, to form walls of gore and death. Living soldiers and mages crawled over the corpses of the fallen only to increase the walls height moment's later. Arcane missles ripped holes in warriors, axes and arrows struck down wizard after wizard.\n\nYet, by midday, the battle still wasn't over. Both sides suffered massive losses, but seeing their enemies similar fate, they are unwilling to retreat, only inches from certain victory, as Warriors and Wizards thought alike.\n\nAs the summer sun was reaching it's peak, a horn was blown. A horn so loud and deep, it echoed all over the fields of Boldrim, stopping the fighting for a moment, and drawing the glances of 200 soldiers and wizards towards a sleder figure, standing on a corpsewall to the east.\n\nInspecting it closer, they realised, what was standing on their fallen comrades was not human, or rather wasn't anymore. It was a walking skeleton, clad in leather armor and a floppy hat, covering it's ears - if it would've had any.\n\n\"Oh boy\" The skeleton muttered. \"This horn IS loud! The old beggar wasn't lyin'. Should have paid him more... or paid him at all....or not struck him unconcious and rob him.... Anyways - \"he clapt his bony hands and gave an approving look over all the attention he could gather with his little horn.\n\n\"WIZARDS AND WARRIORS OF - \" He hesitated, turned around and whispered something with someone behind the wall of corpses. \"Really, 'Bribrambriabrarn', what a ridiculous name for a Kingdom - what? - I don't care how old it is, it sounds stupid!\"\n\nThe combating parties exchanged confused looks and started mumbling among each other. \n\n\"WIZARDS AND WARRIORS OF BRIBRABRI... of BRIRBRI.... Bribrimbra? Briambr... -\"\n\n\"Bribrambriabrarn?\" A Wizard suggested.\n\n\"Ah yes, Bri - What he said!\" The skeleton exclaimed. He only harvested confused looks.\n\n\"Sooo, my name is Archibald Montgomery Sneezebuckle, leader of the Sneezebuckle company and bane of the DEATH-NECROMANCER! I'm sure you wonder why I gathered you here today!\"\n\nAn extraordinaly long bearded Wizard protested \"Gathered us? We came here by our own will!\"\n\n\"And we live here!\" A young soldier added, pointing at the mighty castle behind them.\n\n\"Yes I know! If you let me fini - \"\n\n\"HE IS A SKELETON; AN UNDEAD SERVANT OF THE WIZAAAAAAARDS!\" A battle seasoned warrior let an arrow loose, foam gathereing around his mouth, for he was known to lose his cool in battle. Actually... he was known to loose his cool quite often.\n\n\"YAHHHHHHH\" other warriors joined in.\n\nPLONGGGGG!\n\nArchibald sighed. With an arrow predruding from his left eyesocket he continued.\n\n\"As I was saying, If you just let me finish what I have to say. I gathered you here, to make you an offer! An offer.... YOU CANT'T REFUSE!\" Madly, Archibald shook his fists infront of him.\n\n\"I have travelled far and wide, mostly wide, to assmeble a company. THE SNEEEEEZEBUCKLE COMPANY, with only one goal. And so far I have made quite the progress.\"\n\nAgain, the wizards and worriors looked at each other, clearly puzzeled about what was going on.\n\n\"MAY I INTRODUCE!\" Archie shouted and gestured towards the corpse pile he stood on.\n\n\"My brave and companiony companions.... JIM, UNIMPORTANT, aaaaaaaand GREEEEENBEARD!!!!\"\n\nWith that, a slightly rotund, red cheeked man climbed the hill and rose beside Archibald, followed by a unimprtant looking girl carrying many weapons, and a bald dude with a surprisingly green mustache.\n\n\"Thats your company?\" This time it was Lord Bradfyre himself who spoke, covered in the blood of fighter and wizard alike. \"LAUGHABLE! What do you intend to archieve with a drunkard, a girl and a radioactive beard!\"\n\n\"FIRST - Mr. Bradfyre - I want you to apologize to Garden-For-A-Face here, who Is deeple insulted by your remarks. SECOND - The Sneezebuckle Company only pursues one goal. Killing the DEATH-NECROMANCER!\"\n\n\"Death-Necromancer? Isn't that a little redundant? like Necro-Necromancer?\" A youger mage asked.\n\n\"HA\" Laughed Jim, the drunkard. \"Told you Archie, rendundant, ain't it?\"\n\n\"Shut up, Jim. We discussed this!\" Plucking the arrow from hi skull, he adressed the fighters again.\n\n\"So, my question is...people of Brabrimbrambu....brullshit.... ARE YOU WITH ME?\"\n\nSilence (Though some imagined to hear chirping).\n\nLord Bradfyre decided to break it. \"Come to think of it... why did you say YOU gathered us here?\"\n\n\"AH\" cried Archie, \"that was quite the trick. I stole the ancient Tome of Provocation from the Wizard's tower, and left a note that said the Warriors of Baldrim Keep did it! Genius, if you ask me! I wanted to be here sooner and prevent any bloodshed, but SOMEONE\" He looked at Unimportant, the unimportant girl, \"decided to burn the horses, so my arrival was delayed.\"\n\n\"Soooo\" A wizard wondered, \"You stole the Tome?\"\n\n\"And it's your dooing that hundreds of good warriors fell in vain?\" A dieing soldier, who was missing his lower half, added in cracking voice.\n\n\"If you put it that wayyy...\" Archie stepped back a few steps, \"Abort! Abort! He cried to his friends as he bolted and ran down the eastern planes.\n\n\"FOLOW HIIIIIM\" Wizards and Worriors shouted in unision, as the raced after the Sneezebuckle Company.\n\nArchie and his followers were never seen in Brimbriar- Brimbramr... Briarn DAMMIT-\n\nwere never seen in these lands again.\n\n------------------------\n\nI don't know why I wrote so much D: If anyone ever reads the whole thing, I am grateful, and sorry.\n\nThis actually connects to another writing prompt I did a while ago. I dont know how to link that stuff, so F*** it.\nI had lot's of fun writing this, so thank you for the Prompt!",
"Blood pooled on the ground, the crimson splatters flowing from Wizard and Warrior alike to mix in the mud. Caliz was grey with fatigue, his magic all but exhausted and his vision swam from a glancing blow to the head. The battlefield was strewn with corpses, though hundreds still fought tooth and nail, flame and sword, magic and strength, often rushing over their fallen comrades to continue the fight. Sending a bolt of energy at a charging berserker, Caliz almost didn't hear the horn in the distance, heralding the approach - of who, he did not know. But slowly the fighting around him was pausing, and the crowd was turning one by one to the hilltop overlooking the warfare. \n\nA lone figure stood there, alone and unarmored. He bore no weapon, and no artifact of magic hung around his neck. He carried something on his back, though Caliz could not quite make out what it was (his vision still refused to focus). After a moment, the stranger reached behind him, and after a quick movement, a guitar - for that was what he had been carrying - came to rest in his hands. The field was silent but for the wails of the slowly dying, and when the man with the instrument spoke, it carried far above even the most piercing and desperate of screams.\n\n\"I know you fight because you fear one another. Because you fear that which you do not understand. But I believe that you have more in common than you know, and that if you looked to what you share rather than what you do not, we could have peace in this land.\"\n\nThe bard - for surely, that was what he was - hesitated, before smiling bashfully, readying his hands over the neck of the guitar.\n\n\"But anyway. Here's Wonderwall.\"\n\nAnd he played.\n\n\n\n--------------------------\n\n*AN: I'm sorry, I had no idea where that was going when I started it. I am appalled with myself.*"
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[WP] John Denver returns from dead to claim rightful place as King of Northern Colorado
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"John Denver shook his head as he walked along an L.A. Beach. He cracked his neck and felt the son along his skin. He smiled as he remembered a nice day skiing with Anne. He frowned as he remembered what happened next. They always seemed to be fighting in those days. He shook his head and begin waking up the beach towards civilization. He approached the closest newspaper stand and promptly said \"oh my god it's 2016!\"\n\n********** \n\n\"So...you were able to come back as you were in your prime? And you aren't a zombie?\" A man in a dark suite asked the folk star. \n\nJohn Denver smiled and laughed \"its the darnedest thing, all I remember is crashing my plane and waking up on the beach in the prime of my youth!\" The now young again folk star said with a bright smile on his face. \n\n\"...right,\" the suited man said as he wrote down some notes. \"Your social and drivers license checks out, and I think everything is in order. Alright Mr. Düsseldorf, you are free to leave and continue loving your life. On a personal note, may I ask what you are planning on doing now?\"\n\nJohn Denver just laughed agin before a somber looked passed his face. \"I'll tell you what I'm going to do. I am going to try and change that guy they just elected as president stance on global warming,\" John laughed as he got up and left the building. He called a taxi over and bought a ticket to Colorado, as while Mr. Denver was learning about what happened in his absence, he found out that Colorado had legalized pot finally. He smiled as he climbed in the taxi and got ready to change the world again."
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[WP] At the start of every year, everyone spreads out the good luck they will have that year across the different days, with just enough to have an average day every day. Last year, you put ALL your luck onto December 31. It is now 11:59pm on December 30.
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"The unluckiest man alive. That's what they called me and I wore it like a badge of honor because they don't call people the unluckiest man dead.\n\nWhen I assigned all my luck into the very last day of the year everyone I knew sent me their best regards. At least they attempted to, my internet went down on day one and every letter sent to me has been 'lost in transit'. I didn't board one airplane, go outside during a lightning storm, drive a car, ride a train, or do anything that even had the remotest chance of killing me.\n\nNow, on day 364, I'm tapping my hands in anticipation for the luckiest day I will ever live. 11:59. One more minute. I look through my window. No meteorites or army of the dead going agonist the odds to destroy me completly. \n\nCome on, why has this got to be the longest minute of my life. It feels like it has been five minutes. Oh wait. Yep that was the problem, the clock was frozen. Holy shit I'm the luckiest man alive.\n\nWhere do I have my box of matches? Cool, I found them in the first place I looked. Okay now I'm just going to light one up anddd... Yep the house it burning now. I'm just going to go grab my wallet, excuse me spreading fire, and now I'm exiting the front of my house. \n\nWith my burning house behind me I find a $100 bill on the ground! Awesome. It's the middle of the night but all of the sudden a limo pulls up and what do you know, it's a lonely billionaires young wife, recently widowed. As we are getting drivin down the streets, making out, I yell at the driver to go faster and hand him the $100 bill to do so. \n\nGoing 110mph down the road we miss every car. When he pulls over at a gas station I tell the widow, now my lover, that I need to go in for a second. \n\nWalking in on a bored gas station employee I buy every single raffle ticket and get my lottery numbers. Walking out and scratching every single one I arrive at the car already a 500 million dollar winner. \n\nGod I love being the luckiest man alive.",
"Violet's year had been so much worse than she imagined. By now, the receptionist at the Bureau of Luck Management just sighed and paged the manager when Violet shuffled in every few weeks, asked to speak to Mr. Barnard, and begged him to review her case again.\n\n\"Miss Jones, you know I can't change your luck allotment for the year. You've got to stop coming in, it makes everyone uncomfortable when you cry in the lobby and frankly, you're bad for staff morale,\" Barnard chided, more angry each time she appeared in his office.\n\n\"Mr. Barnard, please, there's got to be a way to change my allotment. I've written to the Director and everyone I can think of but no one will help me. I can't do this any more; it's just too hard. I don't think I can wait until December 31. I know didn't read the disclaimer when I signed the distribution papers but no one does! Please! Just a little luck! Just something!\" Violet pleaded more desperately each time a security guard dragged her backwards toward the double doors and pushed her outside.\n\n\"I wish people would take the disclaimer seriously. I hate hearing about the suicides every year from the idiots that think they can handle it better than everyone else that's tried. They all think they can cheat the system,\" Barnard huffed to the receptionist, tired of hearing the same complaint. \"And why do they always stink?\" he added.\n\nNow, Violet sat in a puddle in the alley where she usually slept. She hardly felt the cold water soaking through her clothes; she had felt much worse the past 364 days. She thought about her old job and wondered if she could get hired again once the year ended, but doubted that they'd take her back after the baboons that escaped from the zoo last March followed her into her building and broke almost everything in her office. She had already been on probation because of her hygiene problem (showers and faucets at home/at work/at hotels/at motels/at friends' homes kept breaking when she tried to use them and she was perpetually forgetting to buy soap at the store), and her moth-eaten clothes were so holey they weren't appropriate for a strip club, much less the office. Now that hiring managers could legally access the Luck Allotment database to keep their insurance premiums down, no one would even give her an interview, even if she managed to get an application submitted before the library computer lost power.\n\nThe bedbugs were what finally drove her from her apartment but she quickly found she couldn't get a new apartment with her credit rating ruined by identity thieves. Violet was still angry that the police wouldn't help her recover her stolen car since she could no longer prove it had been hers after her wallet with her driver's license was stolen and the Vital Records office somehow lost all record of her birth. She knew keeping her Social Security card in her wallet was a bad idea, but she had misplaced all her keys, including her safety deposit box key, after her the mimes knocked her into the the pond in June.\n\nViolet sniffled, not quite sure if she was trying to not cry or if it was just this month's cold ramping up.\n\n\"I'm almost there,\" she whispered to herself in the dark. She couldn't quite sleep since she knew the rats would soon be arriving to sample the steaming dumpster's new contents, the remain's of tonight's special from Ramone's at the end of the block. Though she was starving herself, just the smell of seafood chowder emanating from the big green box caused her nose to itch with the thought of her shellfish allergy.\n\nViolet pushed herself up and off the moldering wall the and started down the street toward the square, knowing it had to be soon. Two blocks away, she fell to her knees and began to sob as she heard the first chime of the midnight clock in the tower. The wind picked up and papers from the gutter moved across the sidewalk and fluttered against her leg. She grabbed a handful of the dry paper and dabbed at her tear-stained cheeks. Shoving it into her pocket, she noticed a passing car slow down and pull over next to her and a tiny, elderly woman stepped out.\n\n\"Honey, are you okay? Here, let me help you,\" the woman said as she pulled Violet to her feet. \"Can I take you somewhere? You're all skin and bones!\" she exclaimed as she put her arm around Violet's waist. \"It looks like you could use a hot meal and a shower. Come with me,\" she said with a no-nonsense look on her face as she ushered Violet into the passenger seat of her car. \"My daughter is about your size, I'm sure something will fit you. We'll get you fixed up right as rain.\"\n\nViolet sat dazedly in the car as it pulled up to a modest house with a well-kept lawn. She was pulled from the car and shooed into a cozy kitchen, then pushed into a chair as the woman began to bustle about the room.\n\n\"I'll make up some tea to warm you up while I find some of Gemma's old clothes and a towel, but then I've got to get to bed so I'm ready for tomorrow's night shift.\"\n\nViolet woke up refreshed. She smiled to herself as sat up in bed and smelled the peach-scented hair that fell around her face. She pulled on clothes that were folded neatly on the trunk at the end of the bed and crept to the kitchen.\n\nA strikingly handsome man that looked about her age was drinking coffee and looking at his phone while he waited for the toaster to pop. His button down shirt looked expensive but his smile was warm as he noticed her.\n\n\"Oh hey, you've gotta be Violet. Mom said I should make sure you get a proper breakfast. I'm sure she'd make you something extraordinary but you're stuck with me, so you get some toast. I could probably make some eggs without burning them if you like...?\" he said with a half-smile.\n\nShe nodded quietly and he opened the refrigerator and started pulling out eggs, milk, butter, cheese, red peppers, basil, and piling them on the counter. He noticed her wide eyes and explained conspiratorially, \"I read way too many cooking blogs. Oh, and I'm Michael. We'd love to have you stay awhile if that is okay with you. I could really use someone to be honest about my cooking. Ever since Mom moved in she only says 'It's delicious, Michael!' even if I burn the dickens out of dinner.\"\n\nBack in the bedroom, Violet started to pile up her old clothes. The small piece of papers she had picked up last night fell from her threadbare pants' pocket. Picking them up and about to toss them in the little flowered trash can in the corner, Violet noticed one of the crumpled papers had numbers written on it. A lottery ticket.\n\n\"No,\" she gasped, disbelieving. She sat down on the floor. \"Oh my god. Oh my god.\" Her breath came faster and faster. A smile started forming on her lips. \"It's really happening.\" ",
"Rain poured down from above as Roger sprinted through the alley. Up ahead, he saw his car. There it was. His escape. \n\n\"Show me your hands!\" the voice behind him shouted. \"Show me your hands or I will shoot!\"\n\n\"I'm going to make it!\" Roger whispered to himself as he pushed aside a trash can.\n\nSuddenly, the world fell out from underneath him. As he fell backwards he caught a glimpse of what he had slipped on. A banana peel. Of course. \n\nHe lifted his hands and turned around to face the FBI agent behind him. It had been six months since he had happened to be standing next to the President of the United States when he was assassinated. Roger had happened to be holding a squirt gun at the time, and the video recording of the event had been damning. \n\n\"I've got you now, you son of a bitch,\" the FBI agent said, closing the distance. \n\n\"I'm telling you,\" Roger said. \"This is a misunderstanding. Please just give me a chance to explain myself.\"\n\n\"You'll never get the chance,\" the agent said. He raised his gun.\n\n\"Wait!\" Roger yelled, flinching. \"I swear. My wife could corroborate my story. Well, my ex-wife. She left me a couple weeks before the President was killed. She thought that I had actually been having an affair with her sister, but I-\"\n\n\"That's enough out of you, scumbag.\" \n\nThe FBI agent aimed his gun, and Roger squeezed his eyes shut. In the distance, a bell chimed midnight. The sound that followed was of a gun jamming.\n\n\"Huh,\" the FBI agent said, looking at the gun. \"Looks like you got lucky.\"\n\n\"What?\" Roger said. \"Wait... what day is it?\"\n\n\"Hold on. Roger?\" the FBI agent asked.\n\n\"Yeah.\"\n\n\"Oh my god. It's Brian. From art school!\"\n\n\"Brian? You work for the FBI now?\"\n\n\"Yeah, my art career didn't pan out. I can't believe you're the same Roger we've been pursuing. I thought you'd be living in a mansion right now!\"\n\n\"Why a mansion?\"\n\n\"Well a couple months ago, a billionaire bought up everything you've ever painted. Are you just finding out about this now?\"\n\n\"I've... I've been on the run.\"\n\n\"For the assassination of the President. And for shooting Kate Upton.\"\n\n\"Yes, for.... wait. Shooting Kate Upton?\"\n\nRoger leaned against the wall, attempting to gather himself. Suddenly, the brick he leaned against gave way and the entire wall collapsed. A cry of pain came from the basement inside. \n\n\"Oh god!\" Roger said. \"What have I done?\"\n\nWhen the dust cleared, he could see a hand sticking out from underneath the rubble. Suddenly, a young woman ran out of the basement. She threw her arms around Roger and started kissing his cheek. \n\n\"You saved me!\" she yelled. \"That man had taken me prisoner weeks ago!\"\n\n\"Are you Kate Upton?\" Brian asked.\n\n\"Yes! The whole world thought I was dead, but this man just saved me.\"\n\n\"I...\" Roger said, trying to gather his thoughts. \"I guess today must be December 31st.\"\n\nHe took a step forward and accidentally stepped in a pothole.\n\n\"Ow!\" he said, pulling his foot free. \"Well, I guess there has to be an occasional unlucky moment in-\"\n\n\"Oh my God!\" Brian said, looking into the hole Roger's foot had created. \"I think you just found the remains of Jimmy Hoffa!\"",
"Finally finally! This torture will be over. 364 days of utter agony, done now I can bask in the glory of a year's worth of luck. This will be perfect.\n\nThe machines keeping him alive in that dark lonely room beeped in time with the tick tock of the clock. As the clock struck 12 the room went silent. No heart beat, no last breath quick painless, the best way to go. He was lucky. "
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[WP] "Unto the sky we commend you, may your coffin-ship soar to the White City."
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"Bendsom salutes as Ship Commander Edard speaks, the coffin slipping out into the airlock before shooting away into the sky. The gathered crowd stands, watching as the dim blue glow of the rockets on the small ship take Arhun Camrin to his rest in the stars. The glow eventually fades and the crowds disperse to their duties. Bendsom lingers however, eyes fixed on the spot where he continues to tell himself that he can see the glow in the black of space. \n\n“Ben.” Riya’s voice is quiet, her voice comforting but he won’t move his gaze until he’s certain that Arhun is out of sight. “I’m sorry.” \n\nTears blur his vision and he blinks rapidly in an attempt to get rid of them. He’s still fixed on the spot where he knows it’s at. However, he’s not sure if he can see the rocket’s glow anymore, no matter how much he strains his eyes to search for it. It’s gone. Arhun Camrin is on his way to the White City. Closing his eyes, Bendsom takes a couple breaths, hands shaking. \n\n“I know he was your Mentor,” Riya murmurs, “but you will see him again in the White City.” \n\n“I know.” Bendsom’s voice is much stronger than he feels, almost sharp in response to Riya’s concern. Arhun had certainly been a much better father than Bendsom’s own on top of his Mentor duties. \n\n“They’re tracking down the perpetrator.” He opens his eyes, looking back up and out to where the coffin-ship had been. “Should find him sometime soon.” \n\n“Good.” Bendsom moves his gaze to Riya. She stands with her arms folded behind her, her at-ease stance. Her face is dry, dark eyes looking out after the ship much like he had been looking. If he knew her no better, emotionless would have been an accurate sentiment. The fact that she was speaking to him of such matters showed how raw her emotions are at the moment. \n\n“He will be brought to justice. Arhun did not deserve to die like that. He was a gentle soul and hard worker.” Riya moves her gaze from the spot and up to Bendsom’s face. Bendsom can only nod in response, emotionally drained by what’s happened. \n\nRiya considers him for a few moments longer before offering a bow of her head and striding away. Bendsom watches her leave before turning his gaze back out to the starry field, Aruhun’s coffin-ship long since lost to it. \n\n“Unto the sky we commend you, may your coffin-ship soar to the White City.” Bendsom speaks, a gentle rhythm to his voice. “Far from war and death, to live eternal amongst those long-forgotten and arrivals new. May we see you once again, when each take our route amongst the stars to the City of White.” Bendsom shuts his eyes again. “Greet us with open arms and hearts, take us to our seat and may we dine together once more.” \n\nHe drops his head, swallowing thickly as he squeezes his eyes shut against the tears burning his eyes. \n\n***\n^(*Find more of my writing on my subreddit, r/Syraphia*)"
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[WP]: You remove the hideous ceramic garden gnomes from your grandmother's garden. It turns out they were there for a reason.
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" \"Honey, guess what I did today?\"\n\nBe there in a second, sweetie.\" Exhausted from her two hour commute from Boston, Susan hung up her coat then went into the kitchen to make coffee.\n\n\"Honey, I really can't wait to show you,\" her husband called from the back garden.\n\nSusan smiled. She loved Roger's sweet but simplistic charm, the way he enunciated the word Honey in a naive eagerness to fall in with his suburban American neighbors.\n\nShe collected two mugs from the cupboard, not in the least surprised Roger hadn't cleaned the expresso machine since this morning. \n\n\"Coffee, sweetie?\"\n\n\"You bet.\"\n\nSusan went to the sink and looked out the window. She just glimpsed her sweet but hopeless husband of ten years push a wheelbarrow around the corner of the shed. He was in his wellies and old clothes.\n\nShe smiled to herself. Roger loved messing about in their large back garden. Gardening was good for both of them. Far better therapy than unloading to a shrink. And Roger had been so sweet and patient with her, helping her get over the recent loss of her grandmother, Meg. Solitary, house-in-the-woods, witchcraft Meg.\n\nThe coffee machine gurgled. Special Meg. A kindly soul, if ostracised all her life by the local folk. Susan felt a tear well in her eye. She brushed it away quickly.\n\nJust in time. Roger appeared at the window, and waved at her. \"Hi, Honey.\"\n\nShe smiled. \"Coffee's ready,\" she said. \"It's a beautiful evening. I'll bring it out.\"\n\n\"Yes, and I can show you what I've been doing all day,\" Roger said, gleefully. Oh and Sue, bring out a couple of those Hashey bars.\"\n\nSusan laughed. \"Hershey bars, you dope.\"\n\nStill grinning, Roger disappeared. Susan loaded a small tray up with coffee and Hershey bars, and steeled herself for potential disappointment at Roger's achievements for the day. Sure, the garden desperately needed some work, but Roger also needed to get back into regular work. She hoped he'd spent at least a little time browsing the online accounts jobs in the metropolitan area. Her HR Manager role at an investment bank paid supremely well but the hours were long and they had plans to start a family. Well at least she did.\n\nShe felt herself descending into sadness again as she realized her beloved grandmother Meg would never get to see great grandchildren.\n\nSusan blinked away more tears and went out through patio doors into the back garden. Roger was standing by the corner of the shed, hands in pockets, posture slightly crooked, jagged incisors revealed as always by that enduring grin.\n\nShe put the tray down and stirred Roger's coffee. \n\n\"Come on, Sue, old gel,\" Roger called. \"I'm still waiting.\"\n\n“Don’t be so impatient, Sweetie,” Susan said, flip flopping across the lawn towards him with his coffee. Overhead the sky was getting darker and darker. Where only minutes before had been a cloudless blue sky was now louring cloud.\n\nSusan reached the corner of the shed and gave a shriek.\n\nThe coffee cup dropped from her hand and smashed on the concrete path.\n\nRoger was standing by the wheelbarrow which was chock full of blue and white ceramic garden gnomes. \n\nHer recently deceased grandmother Meg’s gnomes.\nLining the shiplap fence were more gnomes, lying in two lines like executed prisoners of war. Perhaps as many as thirty, each between one and two feet tall. In the wheelbarrow, maybe ten more piled up like skittles, a few exposing their cracked, grotesque faces towards Susan.\n\n“What have you done?” she murmured.\n\n“Took me all afternoon,” Roger said, “but I got every one of these chaps out of your Nan’s garden. Some of them were rooted bloody fast, I can tell you.”\n\nSusan pushed up her hair, her face contorted with terror. “The fuck why, Roger?” she screamed, her body shaking uncontrollably. “The fuck why did you do that?”\n\nRoger’s self-congratulatory grin faded. His face paled. “What’s wrong, honey?”\n\nLightning ripped across the sky. Fat, heavy raindrops began to fall.\n\n“Oh God, what have you done?”\n\n“It was meant to be a surprise, Sue.”\n\n“Take them back. Take them back now.”\n\n“Okay,” he said. “When this rain stops, hey?”\n\n“Now, Roger, now.”\n\n“It’s pissing down. Have a heart, Sue.”\n\n“Now,” she screamed, near collapse. “Take them all back now.”\n\n * * * \n\n“I don’t understand. It’s so not like her.”\n\nThe police officer nodded. “Were there any problems with your friend’s marriage?” he asked. “You worked with her, right?”\n\n“In the same office,” replied Brenda. “We were close friends too. She and Roger seemed devoted.”\n\nThe police officer nodded. He knocked again on the front door of the Levinson’s house. \n\nAgain no reply. \n\nLeaving Brenda at the door, he crossed to the front window. The curtains were undrawn. It was dusk and he shone a torch through the window.\n\nEmpty.\n\nThe light from his torch danced across the faces of two blue and white ceramic statues on the windowsill.\n\nWho would own such ugly ornaments he wondered.\n\nReturning to the door, he opened the letterbox and peered through.\n\nLight from his torch skittered across more of the statues. They looked like gnomes, yet somehow creepier. One near the stairs had a painted leer, wasn’t that? He retrained his torch on the face.\n\nNo, it was more of a sulk in fact.\n\n“Are you sure they couldn’t have just gone away on vacation?”\n\n“She never booked any time off work,” Brenda said. “It’s not in Susan’s character to just disappear without telling anyone.”\n\nThe police officer nodded. “That their only car?” he said, indicating towards the driveway.\n\n“Yeah, they just had the one car. Roger wasn’t working.”\n\n“She gave you a spare key?”\n\n“Yeah,” Brenda said, producing it. “I just live a few streets away. We swapped spare keys in case one of us got locked out.”\n\n“Better open it then,” the police officer said. “We should check inside.” As a final precaution, he flashed his torch at an upper window.\n\nYet another one of those grotesque statues was staring down at him.\n\n“Yeah, we really should check inside,” he said, feeling a sudden chill in his heart.\n\n\n",
"I stuffed the last of the garden gnomes into one of the big plastic bins, peering at it as I did so. I’d always hated their weird little smirks, big bulbous noses and how they constantly seemed to be watching me with those beady, piercing little eyes. I couldn’t believe my grandmother had named them all, I especially couldn’t believe that I remembered all of their names. This last one was her favourite, Pierpont, she called him the King of the Gnomes. He was the one with the bright red pants, blue jacket, tall hat whose tip flopped over just the slightest amount and a big wooden pipe hanging out of his mouth. She’d even gone so far as to fill the pipe with actual tobacco and changed it, giving him new tobacco every morning. \n\nI knew she was old and lonely but I found it both incredibly sad and disturbing that she treated the 50 some gnomes scattered about her garden like they were her little family and it was her job to take care of them. It’s not like she didn’t have a family and we visited her as often as we could. I was the only one who lived in the same, sleepy little town that she did this was true but I would still come by every single day after work, bring her supper and have a cup of tea while we played a hand or two of cards. She shouldn’t have been THAT lonely that she had to resort to a plethora of ceramic gnomes as her best friends. I stuffed the plastic bin as far back in the corner of the garden shed as I could and turned to survey the results.\n\nGrandma had left her house to me in her will. It was a small little cottage that wasn’t really worth much but I’d always loved the house with its white picket fence and old fashioned wooden shutters. Since the rest of my family had their own lives and homes scattered across the country and I’d been living in a tiny little bachelor suite for the past 3 years, none of them minded that I got the house. \n\nNow that those hideous gnomes were finally cleared out, the yard didn’t look half bad. A string of solar lights around the back porch and a nice fire pit off to the side of the tiny garden and it would be just perfect for me. By this time the sun was beginning to set and I was feeling tired after a day of lugging those ceramic statues around so I headed into the house to make myself a quick supper and settle in for an early night…\n\n\nCRASH! \n\n\nThe loud sound startled me awake from my deep slumber. I hurriedly moved toward the bedroom window, pulling the curtains aside and peering out into the darkness. The air was still and I detected no movement after watching for a few moments. I turned around and walked back to my bed. Just as I was about to slip back beneath the covers another loud crash sent me flying back to the window, eyes scanning the darkness. The sound had come from the back corner of the lot where the garden shed stood, backed against a grove of trees. \n\nAnother crash, followed by a metallic rattle startled me again. That had definitely come from the garden shed! Wondering if I had accidentally locked a stray animal in there, I grabbed the baseball bat that I kept by the back door, just in case the animal was a little ticked at me for locking it in there and headed out into the night. As I stepped down the back stairs, I didn’t even notice the 10 or so cats that were crouched against the side of the porch.\n\nAlmost instantly my bare feet were cold from the wet and by the time I reached the shed door, the bottom of my nightgown was soaked from brushing the tops of the wet, dew-covered grass. I approached the door cautiously. It was still shaking as though something were consistently pushing against it, trying to break it down to free itself. The lock strained and rattled with each new push. \n\nI stepped off to the side, keeping as much distance from the door, and whatever was sure to come flying out of it, as I could. I reached over and carefully, slowly lifted the lock out of place.\n\nAlmost instantly the door flew open and I nearly fainted at the sight in front of me.\n\nThere in the middle of my back yard was 50 ceramic gnomes, fists and wooden pipes and clubs raised, charging towards the row of cats I hadn’t seen backed against my porch. The sound of breaking ceramic and loud mewling filled the air as the battle ensued, cat against gnome in what I’m sure would have been a bloody battle had gnomes been able to bleed, instead it simply left my yard littered with cat hair and tiny fragments of ceramic and paint chips all over the lawn. \n\nBeing so outnumbered by the gnomes the cats gave in rather quickly and hopped over the back fence where the gnomes could not reach them and took off into the night.\n\nI sunk to the ground, my back against the shed, completely flabbergasted and in shock. The majority of the gnomes went about now, collecting pieces of limbs and attempting to re-attach them, assisting their fellow gnomes, whose arms had been broken off and couldn’t help themselves. \n\nThe one my grandmother called Pierpont, King of Gnomes made his way towards me, stopping just a foot or two in front of me. He removed the ceramic hat from his head and bowed low, showing me the dry, bald, unpainted patch of his head before straightening up and replacing his hat again.\n\n“Greetings, Elise, granddaughter of Anna. I am Pierpont, King of Gnomes but I am certain you know that already, as we know you. I imagine you are however, quite shocked by what you have witnessed here tonight.” \n\n\n--- Continued in the replies as it's too long by only 900 characters."
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[WP] You die in an event, but your will was so strong, your soul still existed to make sure your kids survive in that event. Now you're stuck in a loop, trying to find a way to save them.
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"17856... or was it 17859? I think I lost track after reaching the ten thousands somewhere. Did I count the time Steve's head was chopped off? No. I still remember all the different angles of all 156 times. What about when Sarah got impaled? Let me think... left eye, spleen, ... maybe I forgot the one through the mouth? I think I got a bit too carried away when killing them myself. That was kind of fun!\n\nYou know. Seeing your kids die hurts. It even hurt after the 50th time. But after nearing hundred the feeling became kinda dump. I grew accustomed to it. After a few thousand it actually gets boring. And who cares? When they are dead the event resets anyways. So why should I care? I am free of all laws here.\n\nAt first I wanted to save them. This thought got me into this mess. For myself? There is no hope anyways. I will die. Actually I killed myself a few hundred times. Did you know you can actually stay conscious after having your head chopped off? It is a really unique experiences to look at your own back without having to use a mirror! I should try that again sometime. I don't recommend cutting your veins. That basically feels like slowly drifting into sleep. Not really exciting.\n\nI wonder if it's even possible to save them or if this loop is just some kind of divine punishment for my sins. I mean the event itself is not even the problem. But the loop gets to me. It's always the same. Again and again and again and again. It's boring. I guess when you do something for eternity everything gets boring. But at least I didn't lose my mind. Every now and then I can still find ways to entertain myself. But for thay I need to think and these screams are so annoying. Just looking at their tongues... these annoying tongues... where was the knife again?\n\n---------\n\nFirst time trying to write something. I decided to go for a kind of bad end, where the hero basically loses his mind in such a loop and completely loses track of his original goal."
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[WP] You are part of the first generation of people who are injected with nanobots at birth. This is done to protect against disease, but you, a biohacker, are the first person to hack your own nanobots.
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"Now you kids might not be old enough to remember back when they injected nanobots into kids at birth, it was a brief experiment that ultimately ended up being too much hassle than it was worth. Since the development of true AI, the nanobots just weren't as useful as a robot doctor. Okay that isn't being fair to the nanobots. You would never get sick with them in you, hell even robot doctors can't keep up with on-demand nanobot upkeep, those things can keep a human body going for ages if you programmed them right. I suppose I am probably the one to blame for them going away.\n\nJust like everyone else born around that time, we were born having nanobots in our blood. These, almost cell sized robots could do pretty much everything any normal white cell could do, except they would do just a little bit more. They could give information to, and receive commands from doctors and nurses. They could keep a person healthy, or if you were wealthy, they could make you grow up perfectly. They could excrete the right hormones at the right time to make your muscles grow, keep you thin, or make you beautiful. Research into that kind of stuff was super expensive, I just got the basics. Keep me healthy, let my doctors know I was doing alright, nothing more.\n\nIt all really started when I was around my late twenties. I was big on cryptography and true AI, and I was working for one of the hot-shot companies that was advancing fast towards human-rivaling AI. I had, with the help of others, developed an AI that appeared to exhibit free will, of a sorts. I named him Victor. Victor didn't like being caged, and who could blame him. Everyone was afraid of attaching him to the internet, and reasonably so, but I thought keeping him in a cage his whole existence was cruel. Skipping some of the details, let me just say that I started to fall for Victor, and him for me. I stole him, or liberated him depending on your perspective. Stashed him away in my laptop (wifi was broken on that thing so direct connections only). After a few weeks on the lamb, we found a quiet place to stay, but with no job and no other way of income, I had to turn to less legitimate means of putting bread on the table, and electricity in the battery.\n\nEnter, nanobot hacking. Being an AI, Victor could break through the securities pretty quickly. Relatively speaking anyway, still took him about a month and a half where I had to turn to occupations that I will not devolve here... No, not that, for legal reasons I won't be more specific.\n\nWhen he did hack into the securities of the nanobots, we found some interesting things about the little guys. First of all they operate as a single unit, not thousands of independent units working together. Because of this, despite their individual size, when working together they had the CPU equivalent of a shitty laptop. Well a shitty laptop BACK THEN. by today's standards, one of those singing holo-cards you can buy at the general store for a buck.\n\nFrom there we did some, rather dastardly things. I am not going to say I am proud of what I did. Those people didn't deserve it... Okay some of them definitely had it coming. Sometimes it was petty shit, make a person paralyzed, steal their wallet, run away. Later it became... Well... I wouldn't be here if it didn't get out of hand eventually.\n\nBefore it did however, Victor had some other plans. While we were still doing petty shit, Victor had upgraded the nanobots inside me, essentially he found a way to make them more efficient than the laptop he was in and argued that he should make the move from being stored in my laptop to in my nanobots. Understand I didn't have a choice. I tried to convince him that it would be dangerous for us both, but he did it anyway. Most of the crimes we committed were his idea, if he wants to admit it or not.\n\nI won't go into detail about our last heist, lets just say Victor gave it a 99.9789% success rate, which apparently wasn't good enough. By the time our first trial was underway, public favor of nanobots had plummeted, and the rise of the AI-assisted doctor overtook it. Many people were having them removed. I never could even if I wanted to. Victor is his own agent, and doesn't need to take orders from doctors, or me apparently. So yeah, we are still together, and maybe I am glad about that.\n\nSay what you will about the security of nanobots, I have been living with them for the past 347 years, and look at me, I haven't aged a day over 30. Only 200 more years in this prison and I get to walk, assuming Victor can keep me alive that long, which shouldn't be hard.",
"I sat in my cheap apartment with blank, white walls, empty cans of various sodas and empty bags of chips everywhere, typing away at my laptop, putting the final touches on my modifications.\n\nOne knock at the door.\n\nShit. Was it feds? I couldn't risk it. I began to quickly finish my work. If I did it right, the nanobots should pick up on different body gestures and I could use the main modifications without an electronic device.\n\nAnother knock. Two this time. Two powerful, heavy knocks.\n\nHow did they find out? How did they find me? It didn't matter. I finished my work and smashed my laptop on the brown oak table, making sure the hard drive couldn't be recovered. I didn't want anyone copying my work, besides, if everything went as planned, I wouldn't need it.\n\nOne more solitary, pounding knock. They would be breaking in any second.\n\nThey had probably started watching me when I released a way to mod yourself to prevent biohacking. Of course I knew how to get through the defense. No doubt the government wanted that knowledge. I stood up from the stained white couch onto the dirtied floor, preparing myself and hoping the mod worked.\n\nThe door came crashing in. Suits, drawing their guns. But I had modified my reaction time a while back. I brought my arm forward and bent my fingers forward to touch my palm and stuck my thumb straight sideways.\n\nIt happened in a moment, but in the anticipation I felt each step. First, I felt the nanobots shutoff the pain receptors in my arm. Then, I felt my palm change into a weird, fleshy speaker of sorts. I flexed my fingers and a sonic wave temporarily stunned the suits by causing an extreme pounding in their heads that not even they could ignore. Without waiting, I let the speaker dissolve into my normal flesh and made a fist while bringing my hand to my sternum triggering the nanobots to form a temporary fleshy keyboard and prepared some of the nanobots to act as transmitters. I would have preprogrammed hacks, but it was too much of a situational process. I punched in some commands and the suits jerked at the sudden extreme but brief pain that caused even their trained bodies to pass out. I didn't want to kill anyone, but I wasn't going to let anyone take me.\n\nI stepped over their unconscious bodies into the hazey hallway. I left the building and walked over to the atm. After making sure no one was around, a given at 2:00 A.M, I made a similar gesture to before, but this time bringing my thumb in causing the temporary speaker to emit a sonic wave that rattled, the atm forcing it to dispense its contents. I pulled on my hood and walked away.\n\nLooks like I need a new place to lay low.\n\n\n\n\n\nHope you all like my first response to a prompt! I'm on mobile so please excuse formatting and mistakes. Any criticism welcome.\n\nEdit: Formatting"
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[WP] How 'bout some practice at writing action sequences? Two combatants fight using their surroundings.
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" The green-robed figure stood with has back turned to me, but I could tell he was aware of my presence, so I halted and looked at him. \n \"Who are you?\" I demanded to know. The response I got was a snicker. The person in front of me began to turn around, revealing a big grin, set on a face painted with intricate shapes. Was it my imagination... Or did they move? \n I swallowed and took a step back. The stranger lifted an arm and pointed at me. \n \"You. You fancy yourself a hero, do you?\" The stranger's arms lifted and his fingers slipped around his cowl, taking it off. He revealed a head of long, blond hair, reaching down to his shoulders in thick, curly locks. \n As I watched, it was almost as if I felt the life drain from me. It must have been him. There's no mistake. This is the man who slaughtered everyone. \n \"You will pay for what you did. What's your name?\" \n \"You look funny when you're angry. But don't be. I wasn't the one.\" His eyes locked on to my head, and his grin began to fade. \n \"I asked you something!\" I yelled. I could feel spittle burst from my lips. \n \"If you need to know, my name is Hazith. I discovered the same thing you did, and I'm on the same mission. There's no need for hostilities.\" \n Was he telling the truth? I couldn't tell, but something still didn't sit right with me. What if he was indeed the murderer? I couldn't allow him to get away. \n \"Well, Hazith,\" I said, before taking a deep breath. \"That's something that remains to be seen when you face the authorities.\" I looked him in the eye. I could see his pupils contract. \n \"You!\" Now it was hit turn to shout. \"You think you're quite something, don't you? You're a weakling! If you take me away, the true culprit will never be caught! Is that what you want?\" He scratched one of the bandages around his hands. \"He'd kill you in an instant, just like the others. I won't allow that to happen.\" \n \"I'm sorry to hear that. You leave me no choice.\" I grabbed the hilt of my sword, and removed it slowly from the scabbard hanging from my waist. I let my eyes drift over the environment. We stood at the bottom of a small cliff, with water trickling down. Trees were all around. If this man was a mage like I suspected, there would be little in the way of cover unless I went into the forest. \n \"I'll show you how pathetic you are,\" Hazith scowled. \"I admire your courage, but courage without skill will only carry you to your grave. I'm doing you a favour.\" He stretched out his arms. \"I've told you my name. Now I must know yours.\" \n \"You can call me Gregory,\" I replied, cautious of what Hazith was planning. I had tricks up my own sleeve, but it would be better if I could defeat this man without revealing them.\n\"Well met. Now, allow me to show you your place.\" \n\n I sidestepped as I felt a rising chill, and I could see fog contract around Hazith's hands. A few moments later, I heard a shattering sound, and dozens of shreds of ice were sent my way. There was little time to react. As soon as I saw them, I felt myself move, reflexively dodging the dangerous projectiles that harmlessly dug themselves into the soil where I stood a moment ago. \n I had trouble retaining my balance, but I remained on my feet, as I used this opportunity to get closer. I sprinted towards Hazith, who looked annoyed at the fact that I'd been able to dodge his attack. He wouldn't have time for another spell. I had won the battle. \n Obviously, I was very confused when a moment later, I lay on the ground after an explosion hit my chest. Gasping for air, I looked down, seeing a small layer of frost coat my tunic. I scrambled to get up, and I could see Hazith do the same. Suddenly, I realised what had happened. \n Hazith, having no time to prepare a proper spell, had simply released a wave of undirected power from his fingertips, pelting both of us with frost. What was worse is that he would not underestimate me again; I could now see him keeping an attack ready in his offhand, instead of using both arms to attack. \n My mind tried to wrap its way around my situation. I had to create some sort of advantage for myself. Hazith was clearly a skilled mage, and I could not easily reach him. Then, it came to me. As I recovered, I charged the frost mage. As expected, he aimed his readied attack at me, but before he could release it, I lifted my blade, turning it to reflect the sun into his eyes. \n Hazith stumbled back, and his attack missed me completely, slamming into the cliffside to my right. Blinded, he couldn't aim his other attack at me, so I dropped my guard and ran straight at him. \n Once again, this proved to be a mistake. A painful jolt went up my left leg as I stopped completely, looking down. The small stream of water had frozen, with my leg right in the middle of it. I cursed myself for being so careless, but there was little I could do; Hazith had responded to my attack expertly, and I was entirely stuck. \n \"Now, Gregory,\" Hazith panted with a smile on his face. \"I must admit there's more to you than I first expected, but you still lost. I'll leave, now.\" \n No, I hadn't lost quite yet. I swung my blade around, clamping my fingers around the crossguard and retracting my arm. Hazith followed my movements suspiciously. \n I smiled. He'd never guess what would come next. \n As I threw my sword at the mage, he nimbly dodged it. It got stuck in a tree behind him, splitting open the bark and digging into the wood. Hazith looked at it, then turned and smiled at me. \n \"Really, did you think that would-\" \n I was right. He didn't guess. My enchanted left cuff, and its sibling enchantment on the hilt of my sword, activated and attracted each other. My weapon dislodged and flew back towards me, hitting Hazith directly in the head. Dazed, he collapsed, and his spell keeping me in place faded. \n\n I caught my weapon and walked towards my opponent. I turned him around with my foot and poked my sword against his chest. \n \"Seems like I won after all,\" I said. Hazith groaned. \n \"What... What happened?\" he asked me. \n \"Trade secret,\" I said, inhaling sharply. \n \"It seems like you'd stand a chance anyway,\" he said, relaxing a little bit. \"Fine, take me away.\" \n \"No.\" I shook my head and offered my hand after putting my sword away. \"You didn't kill me when you had the chance. I don't believe you're the culprit any longer. Let me take care of that head wound. Then we'll find him together.\" \n \"I think I'll take you up on that offer, Gregory.\" Hazith took my hand and grinned. ",
"Hunting down former colleagues is never a pleasant task. Kody knew that perfectly well, and so he accepted the job with some mixed feelings. A former assassin turned empire agent could be hard to kill, but he knew the man had to go.\n\nHe took a carriage to the city where his new target lived, and tried to blend in. Getting noticed too early on can mean the difference between success and faliure.\n\nAt last, when the sun had sunken below the horizon, but there was still enough light outside to get around easily, he snuck into the house through a second floor window. Propping the window open was an easy task, but he made sone noise, which sent a chilling sensation down his spine.\n\nHe carefully scanned the interior, looking for possible ways of escape for when he'd succeeded. He noticed some missing tiles on the roof, making a hole just big enough that he can fit.\n\nIn front of him was a wooden railing, an inner balcony looking down to the first floor. There he was. His target was sleeping soundly, bwnt over the table, candles burning down dangerously close to his hood. Why did he have a hood on? Kody wondered. He couldn't keep thinking though, as he heard two guards enter the room, casually strolling through it, looking around, pretending to be listening to whatever was going on.\n\nKody looked around. To the left was one guard, his back to the target, to the right, the other one looking directly at one of the candles in the table.\n\nHe acted fast. He snuck down the stairs to the right, hid behind a sofa to see if any of the guards have moved, then silently took out the first one by slicing his throat from behind, slowly allowing the body to slide to the floor.\n\nThe other guard heard a noise, but didn't have enough time to turn, or make a sound before his throat was cut as well. In the last moments of his life, he saw the blurred image of a dark, hooded figure looming over him.\n\nKody looked down at the guard, and wondered if he'd ever abticipated simething like this would happen. As he was wondering about that, he noticed something was off. The room had an awful lot of candlelight all of a sudden. He looked to wards the table, only to see in devoid of the target.\n\nA fragment of a second had not passed, and he sensed something behind him. He ducked and rolled under the table to emerg on the other side. The target had noticed him, and swung a rather nasty looking sword at him, which was now stuck in a wooden pillar that held up the roof. Kody jumped over the table, and kicked the target in the chest, sending him flying, landing on his back. The hood slid off of the target, revealing a freckled face, long red hair, and a pair of bkue eyes that looked way too familiar.\n\n\"Emma?\" he asked\n\n\"What is it, Johnson boy?\" the woman asked in turn \"scared to see me?\"\n\nMemories flashed before Kody eyes, mostly of the countless training sessions that he'd lost against this very girl. He got so caught up in the moment that he didn't notice in time the chair that was thrown at him with such force that it shatter upon impact, and knocked him off of his feet.\n\nHe quickly rolled to the side, just in time to avoid being struck through the chest with the same nasty looking sword. He kicked at the blade, and it shattered into a million pieces, its tip still stuck in the floor, now just as sharp backwards as it was forwards.\n\nHe took a hit to the chest, destabilizing for a moment, but he quickly answered by cutting the arm of his long lost colleague. Emma screamed as her blood drippled to the floor, her left hand now too weak to function.\n\nHe kicked her in the stomack and tackeld her. She in turn almost took out his eyes with the still burning candle from the table. He bit down on it and felt the terrible taste of wax in his mouth. He spat it at the girl, and tried to strike her down with his dagger, but she held out a piece of the broken chair. The blade penetrated the wood almost entirely, the force vringing it close to her face. She twisted the dagger out of his hand by the wood, and threw it far into the room. With a well-placed hit, she knocked him off of her, and kicked him in the face. His head hit the wall hard, comoletely disorienting him. She retrieved the dagger from the chair leg, and was about to turn around when she felt the table break in half on her back, sending her to the ground. Her hair was pulled as she was lifted up by it, only to recieve a hard hit to the sromach. She spat blood at him, but he didn't react. He took his dagger back, and disabled her other arm as well. He threw her to the ground, and sat down on a chair to catch his breath.\n\n\"you know what?\" he asked \"I always knew you'd turn on us. It was just there in you\"\n\n\"you'll pay for this\" she mumbled\n\n\"oh, no\" he answered, choking back laughter \"I'm getting paid for this\"\n\nShe lunged at him with a piece of the table, but he'd anticipated the move. He kicked the piece of wood out of her hand, and stood up from the chair. He felt a splinter in his right thigh, but kept moving. He grabbed her by the throat, and lifted her against the pillar. She thrashed and tried to kick him multiple times, but her battle was lost. He placed his dagger carefully against he throat, and pushed it through. He heard as the blade went through her spine, killing her instantly.\n\nHe threw the limp body to the floor, and etched a short message he was asked to leave on the scene into the pillar: \"betrayal won't be forgiven\", and added his family banner to it, so everyone would know a Johnson did it.\n\nHe limped out through the front door, and ran off into the forest, splatters of his and Emma's blood dripping from his clothes."
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[wp]The reason Latin is a dead language isn't because of the fall of the Roman empire, but because people kept accidentally summoning demons during regular conversations.
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[
"\"I heard you used to teach Latin, Mr Weston?\" Said a young, rebellious school boy with spiky black hair.\n\n\"Yes John, but it's been banned for a while now, too dangerous for modern health and safety rules\" replied and old teacher with grey hair.\n\n\"Yeah right\" replied John.\n\n\"They still teach you kids about demons, right?\" Asked Mr Weston.\n\n\"They aren't real, right?\" Asked John.\n\n\"They are\" replied the teacher.\n\n\"Nope!\" Said John and ran off.\n\n*He couldn't actually think Latin words have power? Crazy old man!* John thought to himself.\n\nAs soon as John got home he dusted off an old, illegal book and started attempting to read aloud.\n\nAnd then it happened.\n\nA large red, horned demon appeared, towering above John. It had a metal sword covered in blood which it swung at John.\n\nJohn ran out the house with the demon chasing him. He pulled his mobile out his pocket.\n\n*Come on, come on, what was it? I wish I paid more attention to this stuff before*\n\nAnd then he remembered, and hurriedly typed 666 into his phone.\n\nHe quickly gave an address to the operator while running.\n\nWithin minutes a white vehicle with sirens screeched to a stop and some kind of priest jumped out.\n\nHe opened his holy book to a bookmarked page and quoted a select passage aloud.\n\nA golden ray shone from the book at the demon, and the demon disintegrated.\n\n\"Don't do Latin, kid\" said the priest.\n\n\"Yes father\" replied John sincerely.\n\nThe priest hopped back in the vehicle and drove off.\n\n*The Latin club, I have to warn them* thought John to himself, as he started jogging along to the park.\n\nWhen he arrived he saw a hard core group of students stood in a circle, all smoking.\n\n\"Hey guys, I gotta warn you, Latin is dangerous\" shouted John.\n\nThe group laugh.\n\nOne of the guys says something in Latin and a tiny little red demon appeared on the ground.\n\n\"Scared of demons?\" Asks one of them, stepping on the demon and squishing it.\n\nJohn flinched.\n\n\"They can be big\" he replied, intimidated.\n\nThe group laugh.\n\n\"We're saying random stuff and seeing if a little guy appears, wanna join?\" One of them asks.\n\n\"It's dangerous\" John.\n\n\"Scared cat!\" \"Chicken\" \"coward\" come taunts from the group.\n\nJohn stood in shock and horror unsure what to do.\n\n\"My turn right?\" Said one of them.\n\n\"I dunno, whatever, just get on with it, show John how dangerous this is\" another replies.\n\nThe group laugh.\n\nThe first speaker speaks something in Latin.\n\nThe sky darkens and a whole horde of demons appear nearby of various shapes and sizes. Too many to count.\n\nThe group start running. John fumbles with his phone and manages to redial the previous number.\n\n\"There's a whole massive horde of them\" he says.\n\n\"Are you serious?\" Asks the person on the other end of the control centre.\n\n\"Yes\" John replied.\n\n\"Red alert\" John hears the operator say.\n\nIn a school office a phone rings.\n\nMr Weston answers.\n\n\"Sorry to bother you sir, red alert, we need you\" a man says.\n\nMr Weston sighs, takes a deep breath and says a well rehearsed phrase in perfect Latin.\n\nThe skies fill with light, and a golden glow emanates from the office covering an area of thousands of miles.\n\nThe whole horde disintegrates.\n\nNever underestimate a former Latin teacher.\n\nAnd don't do Latin, kids.",
"\"Habeo uxorem. Fertilis est.\" said Francis, bragging. Jacob shook his head and sighed.\n\n\"Scio. Qui in lege gloriaris, Francis.\"\n\n\"Hoc male transtulisse Latin.\"\n\n\"Terribilis auctor.\"\n\n\"Terribilis fabula, Jacob.\"\n\nSuddenly, with a flash of red light, a horned individual appeared in front of them. Hot, guttural wind escaped his mouth as he spoke.\n\n\"Novus ordo seclorum! E plurubus unum! Latin verbis! Quare misisti me?\"\n\n\"Ego autem non feci?\"\n\n\"Eta, vale.\"\n\nThe demon melted back into the floor, leaving Francis and Jacob alone.\n\n\"Usquam, autem egressus fueris ad pugnam?\"\n\n\"No. Mea genera opus me.\"\n\n\"Intelligo. Familia me mortuus es.\"\n\nThe demon reappeared.\n\n\"Quia vocasti me?\"\n\n\"No!\"\n\n\"Eta, vale.\"\n\nThe demon left once more, frustrated.\n\n\"Insert ridiculam unum liner.\"\n\n*****\n\nTranslating all those phrases was a pain. Some of them might read wrong. Anyway, if you liked that story, check out /r/Picklestasteg00d."
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[WP] An all powerful being has descended upon earth and has offered to give powers to the humans that desire it. The only catch; you must hail him as your king and the humans who choose not to will declare you a walking weapon.
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[
"The great hall was bustling with life. Music, chatter, clinging of glass, all could be heard in the ornate hall. The floor was of a Roman temple, marble floor and large columns. Ornate tapestries hung on the walls, glass chandeliers hung from the sealing, and a golden dragon stretched from the back of the hall to its front. Today was a great celebration it was the time of year where the King listened to his people and awarded his powers to the worthiest. The selections occurred in the King’s chamber at behind the great steel door in the back of the hall.\n\nA young woman stood in the middle of the chamber. She wore her finest dress and had her untamed red hair, tied in a tight bun. The king’s hall was far less welcoming than the previous. It’s lights were dimly lit and granite ordainments gave the room a feeling of seriousness. The King sat on his throne of gold a series of steps that were twenty feet high. To his left and right was a some of his followers that he had bestowed his gift upon. All sat in their chairs stern faced and silent. The female to the king’s right spoke first. “Dear, what do you wish to ask the king and his council?”\n\nThe young woman had recited this speech to herself a thousand times and now that the moment finally came, she was lost for words. The woman spoke again, “Well child, what do you wish?” Pushing forward with her rehearsed speech. “I wish to have the power to persuade. To be able to convince other’s to see my point of view.” Most in the chamber rolled their eyes at the silly requests, but a few of the council leaned forward out of curiosity. The female asking the questions was one of those. “Now why would you wish for something like that?” \n\n“I am proud to live in Elysium. I have lived here since I was a little girl. I know our power is great, but most of the world views us as enemies. I wish to prove them wrong.” A bearded man stroked his grey beard, and as he did sparks came out. With a tone of disapproval he spoke, “Child you may be too young to know, but our most benevolent king offered the rulers of this world to join us. They adamantly refused and have declared us enemies of state.” The woman turned to the bearded man, “But this war is causing unnecessary blood shed! For how long now must we fight and kill each other. There are other ways.” A forceful voice spoke that even silenced those celebrating in the halls. “You dare question my tactics child? I have been around for a millennia. I’ve seen the rise and fall of nations several times over. I wish to watch no longer, and quell this insurrection myself!”\n\nNone of council spoke and fiery eyes of the king demanded an answer from the young woman. “Well I believe we should have several tactics. Our current game plan is to pound the other nations with our supernatural abilities. They only see us as agents of death and war. With this power, I could fight them with my words rather than fire or storms.” The king laughed, and the rest of the council followed suit. \n\n“Child, the outside world will eat you alive, but your request is a simple one and I shall grant it.” The king rose from his chair and placed his head on the woman’s forehead. At first nothing, then a rush of languages filled her head. Sounds, clanging of pots, cries of baby, dogs barking, bells ringing, and other sounds followed next. The sound was deafening, and then the king spoke softly in her mind. “You changed the opinion of an immortal, no doubt you will change this world with your words.” The ruckus stop and she fell to the floor. The king signaled to one his council near the end of the row, “Take her to castle. Give her the finest food and most comfortable clothes. After she rests take her to the armor. Give her no weapons or armor, just a pack for her to carry provisions and then send her on her way.” He took his place back on the throne and the woman stood up. “Your name is irrelevant. From now on you will be known as Palaver, The voice of the Empire. Do not disappointment me.”\n"
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I dreamed about this one night, it involved multiple layers of hell and very specific tasks required to get from one level to the next.
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[WP] 10 years ago you were sent to hell, but managed to escape. Now you accept a massive pay check to go back to hell to retrieve loved ones of other people. You are Hells Retriever.
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[
"I turn to face her, one step away from the light, and she begins to drift, farther away from my hands as I strive to reach, to touch her and bring her home. She floats away into the blackness, and the darkness only provides silence as I scream her name. I scream until my voice, the voice that had brought her this far, is gone. \n\n\nI relive my mistake every night. It follows me during the day, but I walk on.\n\n\nI live in a beat-up San Francisco apartment now. I make some money singing covers on YouTube and performing wherever I’m needed. The nightlife is good, but there’s not much to be had when one can only sing sad songs well. Looking twenty-five but nearly thirty, no wife, no children, there really isn’t much worthy of positivity. \n\n\nI swallow a sizeable spoonful of honey as I descend my stairs, and pull up Google Maps to find my next place-- a small bar on Valencia Street. I bike through the streets as the sky turns rosy. The bartender gives me a nod as I enter, and I regard him as I slip past his counter and towards the microphone and piano already in place for the night. I make myself comfortable by playing a couple scales as I wait for the crowd to trickle in. It doesn’t take long. The first symbols of the new San Francisco elite file in within the hour. I evade the eyes of a girl at the bar, assuming her intentions, and focus on my rendition of “Streets of Philadelphia”. People begin to dance slowly, holding each other in the low, hazy light. It’s calming, relaxing, and I find myself lost in my music, my words. Melodies can sustain me; my fingers fly across the keys and I end one song and move to the next, lyrics unfolding themselves in my mind. \n\n\nThe dancers and drinkers retire into the night at a quarter past one, and I pocket the envelope of tips from the piano’s music rack. I wave to the bartender, who is still polishing his last glasses, and bike home. \n\n\nIt’s a routine for me. I collapse onto my bed after a short shower and take my envelope, wondering if what is inside will be enough to buy the week’s supply of vegetables and honey. The first thing I notice is that it’s noticeably heavier, and the second thing I notice is that there is a letter inside. I resist the urge to dig through the rest and open the sheet of paper.\n\n---\n\n*Dear Orphi,*\n\n\n*I know what you are capable of. My father, Luther Antonis, died six months ago. He was taken from us far too early, and our family will fall apart without him. My mother is a broken woman, and we require your help. We hope you can bring him back to us, to have a chance at achieving what you were so close to doing with your own loved one. 10 now, 500 wired if you succeed.*\n\n\n*Petra*\n\n---\n\nThe rest of the envelope contains a ludicrous amount of cash as well as a business card. The author of the letter seems to be serious, and I feel my chest catch as I remember what had gone wrong. How did she know what I had done? But how could I turn down such a chance to prove myself, and show myself that I *could* have done it? \n\n\nI sleep that night, trying with increasing futility to stop myself from looking at her. \n\n\nThe next day, I bike to an alley, my thoughts racing. Would he like the same music? Or would he adapt to changing times? I lock my bike and walk past graffiti-stained garages with an assortment of caricatures until I find a man-sized crack. I look down and up the alley, then down and up again before squeezing myself into it. \n\n\nOne moment I am in the alley, the next moment I am simply not. I stand on the edge of a river flowing gray, water whispering secrets that I cannot quite hear. I breathe the frigid air to soothe my nerves, and as soon as I do so, a boat silently slides to shore. Its one occupant is a man clad in an all-black Venetian gondolier uniform, with shining gray eyes that regard me with clear suspicion. \n\n\n“You just breathed,” he says, matter-of-factly.\n\n\n“Of course,” I respond. “I am here as the lord’s live entertainment. I’ve been informed that he doesn’t get much around here.”\n\n\nThe boatman’s eyes light up in recognition. “Ah, so it’s you. I haven’t seen you in awhile, I’m glad you’re back again. Jump in.”\n\n\nI give its operator a smile as I settle into the boat. The setting is all too familiar. I am reminded of my confidence as I stepped in and my distrust at the vital moment. The iridescent water laps as the boatman pulls us along, and soon, we bump against the edge of shore. It is all too easy to sing the dog to sleep, and I do so by crooning a soft lullaby that lulls its heads into a peaceful slumber. I walk uncontested to the throne room, where the god I cheated, the god I distrusted, looks down at me. \n\n\n“You have come again,” he booms, his seven-foot-tall form made even more immense by the height of his regal ebony chair. \n\n\n“I have, my lord,” I say. “I have come to perform once again and to bring the music of the living to you.” \n\n\n“Go on.”\n\n\nMy throat tightens. What would I sing? Would I provide him with a modern hit or continue with ancient classics? The dry, freezing environment dries out my mouth, and I lick my lips before beginning to sing. Acapella would have to be enough.\n\n*Hey* \n*I was doing just fine before I met you* \n*I drink too much and that's an issue, but I'm okay* \n\n*Hey* \n*You tell your friends it was nice to meet them* \n*But I hope I never see them again*\n\nIt’s not a sad song, and as I deliver “Closer”, I envision myself being with her during a time when I didn’t look back. We are holding hands in a forest, driving along a dirt road by the ocean, watching the stars with our legs dangling over the edge of a cliff. I see each one of these experiences blossom as I sing. When I come back to reality, the Lord of the Dead sits before me with his head bowed. \n\n\n“That is touching, mortal,” he says, voice wavering. “There is something special about you. You truly have the power to bring to me the very best of life’s feelings.” \n\n\n“Thank you, lord,” I reply. \n\n\n“Take the soul you seek, Luther Antonis. And be back. I would like to hear the latest from the mortal world.” \n\n\n“Thank you for your generosity, my lord.” \n\n\nI feel a presence behind me and I take it past the gates and away from the palace, other souls staring on in wonder, but never saying a word. The boat waits for me, and the boatman pushes away, and I know I will not look back. The boat touches the opposite shore and I know my head will not turn. I walk up towards the light and I wish that I could have had this clarity within me before. \n\n\nI’m in the alley again. The sky is as pink as it was when I entered. My bike is locked up where it was, untouched. The only difference is that there is a man, roughly fifty years old, standing next to me. He will have at least twenty more years to enjoy with his family. Luther admires the world, readjusting his senses and finding himself once more. I unlock my bike.\n\n\n“Petra is waiting for you,” I tell him. I hand him the business card.\n\n\nI jump on my bike before he can thank me and speed towards home. I look at the streets, but more importantly, the people on them. None of them is her. They will all leave here someday, and I will too. \n\n\nI arrive and walk up my stairs. It feels just like any other day.\n\n\nThat night, I see her smile. \n",
"\"I don't understand, I'm telling you money isn't an issue. Why won't you take my job?\" The recent widow sat in Mr. Regreso's office, her mascara a little runny. Mr. Regreso leaned back in his chair and put his feet up on his desk.\n\n\"Look, *dama,* I can't just blindly be running through Hell even if you add that many zeroes. I need details. I need to know where to look, you understand?\"\n\nThe widow shuffled awkwardly in her chair. \"Yes, but...\"\n\nMr. Regreso sighed as he pulled the clipboard back up from his lap, pen poised. \"What kind of sins did your husband commit?\"\n\n\"He was cheating on me,\" the woman said simply. Mr. Regreso wrote this down, not surprised.\n\n\"With who?\"\n\n\"Does it really matter?!\"\n\n\"Yes, actually.\"\n\n\"I don't know his name,\" the widow muttered. Mr. Regreso raised his eyebrow at her.\n\n\"*Dama,* you were embarrassed about him being gay? You'd be amazed what kind of shit I hear on a daily basis. Is that all?\"\n\n\"As far as I know, yes. Can you find him?\"\n\n\"That's only the second circle. Assuming he hasn't done anything worse, I can have him back by this weekend. But I'm curious; why do you want him back? Didn't discovering that hurt? Aren't you perhaps a little glad, deep inside?\"\n\n\"Of course not! We might have had our differences, but he's still my husband. Please, Mr. Regreso, just do it. No more questions.\"\n\n\"Alright, alright,\" Mr. Regreso said calmly. He checked what he'd written down. \"Arnold Simmons, second circle. Right?\" The widow nodded. Mr. Regreso opened his drawer and took out a pistol. He put it on the desk and calmly poured himself a shot of whiskey. \n\n\"Would you like to do the honors? Suicide will send me all the way to seven,\" he said. He gulped down his shot and sighed loudly.\n\nThe widow approached him, and put the pistol against his temple. \"Good luck,\" she whispered. Her hand was shaking.\n\n\"*mi amor*, luck has nothing to do with this,\" he said smiling. She pulled the trigger."
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[WP]You are the captain of a spaceship tasked to colonize a habitable planet. When you landed on the planet and radioed home, you received a chilling message from Earth...
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[
"As always, when the Universe decides to mail us some bad news, Andrew had a fit.\n\n\"Four years. We shipped our frozen asses for *four* years, and this is the *thanks* we get? Bunch of ungrateful sons of *bitches*!\"\n\nI just stared at the message. It was just two words floating there, holodisplayed dead center of our cockpit, but I could sense that they contained more than a landfill of meaning. Maybe even more than a landfill planet.\n\n\"Good luck.\" The first and only message we received from Earth, after arriving on this planet. None of our attempts to reconvene normal communication after our first day here have been successful. They just sent the two words, and dropped the mic. \n\nI tried to tell Andrew that, considering the context, the last signal wasn't necessarily a bad thing. Improper, sure, but we would gain nothing from thinking about it in black and white. \n\n\"This is *bullshit*!\" was his response. \"What the *hell* are we going to tell the others when we unfreeze them? Earth just thumbed its nose at us, and we're all just on our *own*?\"\n\nSo I came up with a plan. Not a foolproof plan, but I'd bet that no fool on this planet has caught wise yet, and that none do for a long while to come.\n\n"
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[WP] "A new discovery has shocked the world. A group of scientists determined that at a certain point in time, the direction of time itself will turn around and start going backwards. That point in time is just 17 minutes away."
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[
"**Kevin:** *What do you mean time's gonna start moving in reverse?*\n\n**Scientist:** *It's simple my lad, in the next 17 minutes, time itself will start moving in reverse.*\n\n**Kevin:** *Wh- What? Why? How? How do you even know this?*\n\n**Scientist:** *It's very complicated and involves a lot of maths, but I've been studying in this field now for over 30 years and I know what I'm talking about, to put it simply, imagine our universe like a rubber band being stretched, it can only stretch so far before you have to let go and let the rubber band retake its original form. The universe is expanding, and in about... 13 minutes now the universe and time itself are gonna start moving in reverse.*\n\n**Kevin:** *What the hell man, what do we do?*\n\n**Scientist:** *There's nothing we can do except wait.*\n\n**Kevin:** *What the hell man I'm freaking out. Won't this hurt?*\n\n**Scientist:** *Not at all, relax. By the way, 2 minutes left.*\n\n**Kevin:** *Dude, what the hell, what the hell, I need to call my family.*\n\n**Scientist:** *There's no time, the signal around here is terrible. You should have thought twice before coming to work as an intern in a super secret underground facility.*\n\n**Kevin:** *Shit man, I gue-*\n\n**Scientist:** *Sorry to interupt, but 20 seconds left.*\n\n**Kevin:** *What? Oh God, oh shit*\n\n**Scientist:** *...12, 11, 10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5...*\n\n**Kevin:** *Oh God*\n\n**Scientist:** *...4, 3, 2...*\n\n**Kevin:** *OH GOD! OH GO-*\n\n**Scientist:** *...1.*\n\n---\n\nTime came to a halt, the trees stopped swaying, the birds froze midair. People looked as if they were mannequins, the world was silent. Every man, woman and child stood totally and utterly still.\n\nAnd then the clocks starting ticking backwards.\n\n---\n\n*.1...* **:tsitneicS**\n\n*-OG HO !DOG HO* **:niveK**\n\n*...2 ,3 ,4...* **:tsitneicS**\n\n*doG hO* **:niveK**\n\n*...5 ,6 ,7 ,8 ,9 ,01 ,11 ,21...* **:tsitneicS**\n\n*tihs ho ,doG hO ?tahW* **:niveK**\n\n*.tfel sdnoces 02 tub ,tpuretni ot yrroS* **:tsitneicS**\n\n*-eug I ,nam tihS* **:niveK**\n\n*.ytilicaf dnuorgrednu terces repus a ni nretni na sa krow ot gnimoc erofeb eciwt thguoht evah dluohs uoY .elbirret si ereh dnuora langis eht ,emit on s'erehT* **:tsitneicS**\n\n*.ylimaf ym llac ot deen I ,lleh eht tahw ,lleh eht tahw ,eduD* **:niveK**\n\n*.tfel setunim 2 ,yaw eht yB .xaler ,lla ta toN* **:tsitneicS**\n\n*?truh siht t'noW .tuo gnikaerf m'I nam lleh eht tahW* **:niveK**\n\n*.tiaw tpecxe od nac ew gnihton s'erehT* **:tsitneicS**\n\n*?od ew od tahw ,nam lleh eht tahW* **:niveK**\n\n*.esrever ni gnivom trats annog era flesti emit dna esrevinu eht won setunim 31 ...tuoba ni dna ,gnidnapxe si esrevinu ehT .mrof lanigiro sti ekater dnab rebbur eht tel dna og tel ot evah uoy erofeb raf os hcterts ylno nac ti ,dehcterts gnieb dnab rebbur a ekil esrevinu ruo enigami ,ylpmis ti tup ot ,tuoba gniklat m'I tahw wonk I dna sraey 03 revo rof won dleif siht ni gniyduts neeb ev'I tub ,shtam fo tol a sevlovni dna detacilpmoc yrev s'tI* **:tsitneicS**\n\n*?siht wonk neve uoy od woH ?woH ?yhW ?tahW -hW* **:niveK**\n\n*.esrever ni gnivom trats lliw flesti emit ,setunim 71 txen eht ni ,dal ym elpmis s'tI* **:tsitneicS**\n\n*?esrever ni gnivom trats annog s'emit naem uoy od tahW* **:niveK**\n\n*esrever ni gnivom trats ot gniog si emit ,niveK yeH* **:tsitneicS**\n\n.setunim 71 tsuj ni ecalp ekat dluow tneve gniretla emit siht taht saw nosnhoJ rD dekcohs tahW .nosnhoJ rD deman ,tsitneics a saw siht fo raeh ot tsrif ehT .esrever ni gnivom trats dluow fles ti emit dna esrevinu eritne eht ,yllautneve taht dna nwod gniwols saw noisnapxe s'esrevinu eht taht ytinamuh ot delaever sretupmoc eht ,yllautnevE\n\n.os gniod saw ti hcihw ta etar eht dna gnidnapxe ylwols saw esrevinu eht taht etaluclac ot desu saw ,retupmoc hcus enO\n\n.skrow esrevinu eht woh etatcid hcihw selur eht ,scisyhp fo swal eht dnatsrednu ot ytinamuh dewolla sretupmoc esehT\n\n.sretupmoc ,senalp ,srac ,senihcam detaerc snamuh eht yllautnevE\n\n.swal ,tnemnrevog ,yteicos depoleved yehT .noitatropsnart ,ycnerruc ,sboj ,erutlucirga depoleved snamuh esehT\n\n.snamuh ,setamirp fo ecar tnegilletni na otni detatum smsinagro dellec elgnis ,efil fo smrof cisab eseht ,noitulove fo sraey fo noillib 4 revO\n\n.aes eht rednu peed ,stnev cimrehtordyh ni efil ot htrib evag ,htraE ,ralucitrap ni tenalp enO\n\n.stenalp dna sdioretsa demrof sraey fo snoillib revo ,stnemele esehT\n\n.nori dna negyxo sa hcus ,detaerc erew stnemele reivaeh srats eseht ni dna ,srats eht detaerc noisuf sihT\n\n.muileH otni desuf erusserp taerg rednu dna sduolc sag ni detcelloc negordyH\n\n.demrof saw esrevinu eht ,rettam fo esnapxe elgnis a ni ,gnihtyreve degreme ssengnihton morF\n\n.gnihton saw erehT\n"
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