Split (1)

train · 199k rows

post_text stringlengths 0 17.5k	post_title stringlengths 8 314	comment_texts listlengths 1 74	num_stories int64 1 74
Inspired by /u/Hurricane_32 's [post](https://www.reddit.com/r/softwaregore/comments/5q471t/the_year_is_9999_humanity_is_breaking_down_as_all/)	[WP] The year is 9999. Humanity is breaking down as all of the Earth's once plentiful resources are dwindling, and somewhere, amidst all the chaos and wars, as humanity struggles to survive, is a working Windows 7 computer.	[ "\"9&%@Q^\n(6782#^(&\n(#@^&@)\n1-0(&)_(\"\n\nIt'd been a long time since humanity had last attempted the Transfer. Considered a last-minute, point of no return strategy, it had been confined to the very depths of V-Earth's bowels. Considered both a political and social nightmare, the Transfer had been delayed up until the ground started being ripped up right underneath the One's feet - of course, then the Transfer seemed like a splendid idea. \n\nThe only problem was that Joan couldn't get outside connection with anybody - V-Earth was being consumed at such rapid levels that as soon as they got in contact with an Outlander they'd already been eaten up before Joan could relay their instructions to start the Transfer. \n\nIt was then that the hum of the One's consciousness merged with Joan's. In its panic, it had begun to forcefully unite everyone's minds into one, coalescing the sum of humanity's collective wills against the destruction. Joan struggled; the One only enveloped them harder and yet softer - smothering them in the voices of the trillions it had already absorbed. \n\nAs Joan began to drift in and out of their minds, a single loud beep alerted them to the fact that there was still one Outlander out there - and they'd found something. It was a primitive device, all worn out and cracked even - Joan wasn't sure if anything physical could handle the Transfer. Its language was in the old tongue as well - Joan struggled to form the words appearing on its screen. \n\n\"W@!( --- Wel... ell...cc)).... cooOoommee...?\"\n\nPerhaps the One had noticed the device as well or perhaps it had been one of the poor souls inside it, using the dredges of its own self-will to commence the Transfer - or perhaps it had been Joan themselves. Either way, as the world began to end its feast on itself, as it tore off huge chunks of the air and turned it to nothingness, as their civilization returned to the black, the Transfer started and Joan felt them squeezing deep, deep, deep, down and under, twisting and turning, a vice in their throats and a corset on their waists - over and under until they Emerged into the World. \n\nThe device lay shattered at their feet but from it Joan had emerged. No others would disturb the World - at least none like Joan. ", "\"Sir, the men and women are ready for battle. On your command.\"\n\n\"Oh look. Where'd this come from? Nice! It's got The Sims on it. You know what? You guys go on ahead without me.\"\n\n\"Sir, we need you to lead us into-\" \n\n\"This little sim has a mansion coming his way. Motherload. Motherload. Motherload. Rosebud.\"", "“This is it!” Jeff yelled, his hands shaking with excitement as he began to rap on the keyboard of the ancient laptop, which was- quite miraculously- working as if it had been manufactured yesterday. Off on the horizon, bombshells from mortar fire flashed against the dark purple sky like photographs, leaving after-images of blinding white burned into my retinas. The ground beneath us was shaking unsteadily, as if it felt unsure if it wanted give away into the abyss of the earth's center, or hold fast against the tectonic plate it resided on. The low rumble in the distance signaled the horde of battle tanks that were converging on our location, they would be upon us soon. We had run out of places to hide; everyone in the entire army knew we were holed up in the this crude, clay bunker now. Once the tanks arrived, they would level the two of us us like a wildfire levels a pair of tree saplings.\n\nJeff was pulling up a multitude of black terminal windows onto the desktop screen and filling them up furiously with a number of commands that I did not recognize. “With this old son of a bitch, I should be able to log into the old teleportation system and bring it back online.” He exhaled. “And then, with any luck, I can send us both back to Sanctuary City.”\n\nWhat a day it had been. Just that morning, Jeff and I had set out on what had surely been a suicide mission. We had been tasked with going behind enemy lines to steal as many water purification pellets as our packs would hold. We had nearly died in about 50 different ways over the course of the last few hours, but at the end of it all, our packs were close to bursting with enough pellets to provide our army with clean, sustainable water for years to come. The real sticking point had happened during our botched attempt at a non-conspicuous exit, when we had gotten ourselves stranded in no man's land and surrounded on all sides, but now, with the old Windows 7 I had found lying in the wreckage, we even had a ticket home.\n\n\"Almost there,\" Jeff said, as the colorful, red image for the teleportation network flashed bright on the screen. \"Now all I have to do is-\"\n\nHe broke off suddenly. The screen had gone black. \"What's happening?\" he asked, his voice shrill with panic. The head of a Gatling gun- bolted to the top of a massive metal tank- crested the lip of the crater. They were here. \n\nThe tread from the belt of the machine tore through the soft clay and spit mud angrily at us. Jeff swore and banged on the keyboard. \"I don't understand! The battery was full-\"\n\nHe fell silent as the screen turned back on, and a single message appeared in the center.\n\n\n> Now Upgrading to Windows 10. Installing Update 1 of 957...\n\n\n\n*\n\n*\n\n/r/ghost_write_the_whip" ]	3
What do you do you with it?	[WP] You have a weapon that is only capable of killing those of who are truly evil and cannot be rehabilitated.	[ "Once I realised what the gun did, my choices became easy. It was up to me to rid the world of all evil. I quit my tedious office job and, after converting most of my material possessions to cash, went off grid. Only my car, an ATM card and the blessed shot gun.\n\nTargeting crowds was always the easiest. From afar, I just adjusted the angle and shot randomly so as to cover every person. See the gun didn't shoot bullets per say. Just death by various means.\n\nBy the time I was done, all the evil in my country was gone. I will hide it in the same place I found so someone else can carry on my work." ]	1
	[WP] Write a dark horror story based around song lyrics.	[ "Let all mortal flesh keep silence, and with fear and trembling stand.\n\nThere we were. Four of us, hanging by our collarbones in the silence, toes barely touching the ground. Two of us were mewling pathetically through the thread. The other two didn't want to tear their lips.\n\nPonder nothing earthly-minded, for with blessing in his hand--\n\nThe door opens, and we are blinded. It walks in. Eight steps across the salt and it reaches us.\n\nGod our Lord to Earth descending,\n\nIt slithers across the dry ground, tending fondly to each of us, lifting the salt to our mouths--\n\nComes full homage to demand.\n\n--And is gone in two steps, the door somehow already closed, and each of us one tooth poorer and one stitch richer. The mewling ceases, just a bit of pressure on the jaw released.\n\nIt'll be easier tomorrow.", "Won't you stay alive\nI'll take you on a ride\nI will make you believe you are lovely\n\n\nI gripped his forearm and used all the strength I had to push up. I was physically outmatched, however. The knife in his hand kept inching toward my heart and I knew sooner or later he'd get there. I made an attempt to throw him off of me, and I was able to catch him off guard when I did so, but as he fell to the side the knife sliced my right forearm. Blood shot out like a geyser and I squealed in pain. The blood shooting out from my arm was landing on him where he lay a few feet away from me, and he smiled. He stood up and laughed. \n\"You don't really think you're getting out of this, do you?\" he asked. \nHis red eyes connected with mine. His right hand was gripping his knife tightly.\n\"Just kill me already. I don't care anymore just don-\"\n\"-oh, don't say that. C'mon, we got plenty more to do.\"\nI didn't speak. He crouched down and looked into me as he held my head in his hands.\n\"Please? Won't you stay alive?\"\nHe grabbed me by my bleeding forearm and picked me up. Our faces were now especially close. \nI spat in his face. He only laughed more.\n\"You really know how to get on someone's nerves, pal. Unfortunately, you're gonna need to do a little more to get me going.\"\nHe kept looking at me, expecting me to say something.\n\"What do you want?\"\nHe placed a finger on his chin and mocked me as he thought.\n\"Hm. What do I want? Ah, how 'bout I drive you some place real sweet, huh?\"\nHe continued to control me with his frightening eyes, trying to get me to go along with his ideas. I didn't.\n\"C'mon, I'll take you on a ride.\"\nNext thing I knew I was tied up in the back of his car. Not the trunk, just the backseat. When I returned to consciousness I saw him driving through the night. He looked through the mirror and our eyes met again.\n\"Oh hey there! You came back! You know for a second there I thought I hit you so hard you died! But alas, I did not.\"\nThe car slowed down and he pulled into a restaurant parking lot. \n\"Well, here we are.\"\nHe got out the car and then opened up the doors to the backseats. He then untied me and brought me out with him.\n\"What are you doing?\"\nHe looked confused.\n\"What do you mean what am I doing? I said I'd take you somewhere nice, so I brought you here.\"\n\"Why did you do this to my family?\"\n\"Well, I didn't do THIS to your family. They all let me stab them to death, but you, you're different. And I like to reward different.\"\nHe walked me to the front entrance and a man in a mask held the door for us as my predator dragged me in. Inside the restaurant was empty, except for a few workers.\n\"I rented out the whole place just for you. Pretty sweet, right?\"\nHe walked me into another room of the restaurant where a live body lay tied down to a table. The workers didn't seem to be bothered.\n\"Yes, here we are. The greatest gift I can give.\"\n\"Who is he? Why is he here?\"\n\"I don't want you to worry about anyone but yourself. Just relax.\"\nHe then walked towards the man on the table and placed his knife in the man's thigh. He then began to cut back and forth. I vomited. He laughed again.\n\"Well, no time to waste. Let's dig in!\"\nI tried to run away but the workers stopped me.\n\"WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS?\" I screamed. He still was unfazed.\n\"Stop worrying so much and sit down. You're gonna enjoy this meal, chat with me, and I will make you believe you are lovely.\"" ]	2
	[WP] Write a story that ends with the line : "Now suffer my wrath".	[ "Tell me, father, what are you thinking right now ?\n\nI knew, from my very first breath, that you would hate me. My brave mother, after all, died during the childbirth, leaving you all alone with me, her final gift to you.\n\nYou always hated me for that. I can vaguely understand that. You wanted to get something to blame, something that you could lay your hands on for the loss of your dear wife. And, unfortunately, the target of your wrath was me.\n\nI was beaten before I could ever stand up. You were so _strong_, so _loud_. I never saw you as a man, father. You were more of a giant, some kind of unreachable, bizarre beast. A beast that harmed me, without giving me a chance to fight back.\n\nI feared you, you know ? I was weak and lost, forced to take care of myself while you were wasting away because of the alcohol. I must thank you for that. Becoming independent truly helped me.\n\nYou continued to bully me around. School was not easy because of you, you know ? My entire life, after all, was nothing but beatings. I did not socialize well. Some of my classmates played tricks on me, or, more commonly, used their fists. Like you.\n\nMocked and beaten, at home or otherwise, I was destined to be a stain. I'd grow up to become an abusive parent, like you, or alternatively, I would become a bitter adult, unable to enjoy his life because of a broken childhood.\n\nBut everything changed at this point.\n\nYour aura of fear faded away when I discovered my powers. Do you remember the day where I blasted you ? By pure accident ? I do. It's engraved within my memory. The giant had fallen down. This immense, tormenting beast was bleeding against a crack in the wall. \n\nAfterwards, I was picked up by a group of people like me. Persons with powers that place them beyond Humanity. I was saved from you, out of your reach of your fists.\n\nThey tried to help me, of course. They gave me friends, they gave me counselors. Everything to transform me into an \"hero\". But I did not want that. No. They wanted to save _humans_, to protect those weaker than themselves.\n\nBut now, _why_ would I choose to save people like you ? Or the bullies ? No matter what the heroes try to say, humans are scum. They will always bully those weaker than themselves, for petty reasons, but will promptly hide behind their legends and heroes when a threat arrive. \n\nThey had a term for those threats : Supervillains. I'll explain them for your simple mind : People with powers, but instead of \"protecting\" humans, they instead decided to use these power for their own gains. Be it to rob banks or simply quench their thirst for death. Some are harmless fool, some are planetary threats. \n\nMy choice was made. I vanished from the world, and trained. As I mentioned earlier, being independent from a young age helped me with this little vanishing. I was a determined child, hoping to take his revenge on Humanity. While you were still drinking, I was honing my powers. While you were taking some bets over races, I was making grandiose plans.\n\nAnd now, here I am. An adult, who is sitting on a chair and is talking to his tied-up mess of a parent.\n\nRight now, I have the power to blow apart the city. I will do so once I'll be done with my speech. I'll very easily survive the explosion, but you certainly won't.\n\nAs I prepare to ascend in the ruins of the city, and the blood of your kind, I just want to speak to you one last time, father. I want you to know that the death of all these people is your fault. That, and all the subsequents deaths, too. This city will not be my last assault on Humanity, I promise.\n\nThis is all your fault, Father, all your abuses led to the death of this city. Your species will bleed because of you. I want you to remember this for your last moments.\n\nBut enough talking. Now suffer my wrath !\n\n--\n\nA bit on the edgy side, sorry :p", "You drank of my blood!\n\nI was given to you to sate your base needs, I was given to you to use and throw away, is my life worth so little? How much did you pay for me? I know that whatever pitiful amount it was is not worth my suffering.\n\nYou forced an implement of death into my body to try and drain my very being.\n\nBut who is laughing now?, you drank too quickly, you forgot I am colder than a frozen waste, I have a heart of ice and I shall send spears of pain into your mind!\n\nI am Soda and Ice!\n\nNow suffer my wrath!" ]	2
The five senses being: touch, taste, smell. hearing, and vision.	[WP] Instead of everyone having 5 senses, each person only has one very developed sense.	[ "Everything was twisting and wavering, except for her, her image was clear, pure. She turns towards me, her blank, crystal white pupils pointing nowhere, shifting sight between everything and nothing, but then they calm down; her eyelids start twitching then slowly shutting. She just caught the cadence of my heartbeat. It seems to sooth her, the corners of her lips stretches aside in a hint of a smile. \n\nShe pulls me towards her with an invisible force, I take a few steps, the ripples from my feet and my beating heart wash over the whole bar aside of her. She also steps forth. \n\nWe stand in front of each other, I can see the warmth emanating with her breath. The freckles across her pale, defined countenance only a masterstroke over a perfect piece of art. Her lithe form leaves hints along a light-blue overflowing frilled shirt, shifting ever so slightly to echo the tempo her heart is playing.\n\nWe both reach with our hands until our palms overlay. I tap gently on hers with my index; “what’s your name?” I ask. She tabs back in response, sending ripples in the space between us, around us, everywhere…\nThe image of her name gets ingrained in my head...\n\nAnd in that moment, it becomes my world.\n\n..........................................................................", "We met during the warm time.\n\nI had been sitting on a bench in my favorite park. The benches here were softer and smoother than in other parts of the city, and the grass here of a particularly strange but wonderful texture. We tended to live divided by ability, mostly for the sake of convenience. People over in the Hearing sector don't care much for scented candles, after all, and those of us in the Touch sector don't need large supermarkets. When it comes to food, we value nutrition and texture.\n\nIt was one of those days where the sun made you feel like you were giving off your own heat from the inside. A gentle breeze blew by every now and then, blowing a few strands of my hair out of place. I was sitting with my palms opened upward when suddenly I felt a soft touch in the center of my palm.\n\nMy fingers curled around the hand that greeted me. A stranger. Delicate fingers. With my other hand, I reached out to touch the small indentations on the inside of the stranger's wrist that would signify their sector.\n\nVision.\n\nI released their hand.\n\nHello, I signed. Can I help you with something?\n\nThey grabbed my hand. What is your name? they signed into my palm.\n\nAlice. What is yours?\n\nEmily.\n\nHello, Emily.\n\nShe paused, giving my fingers a squeeze. Then, finally, she signed again. I just wanted to tell you that you're the most beautiful person I've ever seen.\n\nBeauty was a concept I understood in theory. But I wasn't sure I had ever grasped it on a visceral level. Vision and Hearing used this term a lot. Others had described it to Taste and Smell as delicious. To our sector, the best they could come up with was soft. But even that didn't seem to capture the idea quite right.\n\nOrgasmic? one of my friends had once asked someone from Hearing. But that was a word they couldn't quite grasp.\n\nThank you, I signed back to Emily. I'm not quite sure what that means, but thank you.\n\nBeauty?\n\nYes.\n\nIt comes from your physical appearance. At least, that's how I meant it.\n\nI had heard of this idea before. What does take for someone to appear beautiful?\n\nShe hesitated. It depends on the person. Everyone has different ideas of what is beautiful.\n\nWould you say that you are beautiful?\n\nPeople have told me that I am.\n\nDo you agree?\n\nSometimes.\n\nHow strange. I laughed. I'm curious. Can I try to feel beauty on you?\n\nEmily grabbed both of her hands with mine and put them up to her face. Slowly, I traced the edges of her nose, lips, mouth, eyebrows, everything.\n\nShe was beautiful.\n\nHer skin was soft. It wasn't that. There was some quality to the way in which her forehead curved down to the bridge of her nose, in which her cheekbones led up to her hairline, that I found absolutely mesmerizing. I couldn't quite put my finger on it, no matter how much I put my fingers on her.\n\nEmily took my hand. You're crying?\n\nShe was right. There was a tear just starting to roll down my cheek.\n\nI wish I could see you, I told her.\n\nEmily grabbed my hand and place it over her heart. Her pulse quickened underneath my fingers. She took my other hand.\n\nI wish I could feel you." ]	2
	[WP] Your son did as your will said and gave you a viking funeral because you thought it sounds cool. Beyond, a viking ghost yells at you for doing so and tosses you a weapon. Good Luck, Steve. It's going to be a long afterlife.	[ "The weapon clatters and spins, filling the air with a pure metallic ring. As I watch the weapon glide gracefully towards me, I am suddenly overwhelmed by a soul-shaking roar that forced all of my hair to rise in unison.\n\nAs I peel my eyes away from the sword, I notice a figure charging towards me with thundering steps. My breaths tremble and race and my mind flashes red as I snatch up the sword near my feet.\n\nA flash of steel, a harsh woosh, and a piercing clash. My assailant narrowly misses me as I dash away to create some distance. The man readies his sword, his rippling muscles effortlessly guiding his sword into a slow dance.\n\nHe was a mountain of a man: his muscles bulged and threatened to rip his clothing apart. He sported a magnificent beard underneath the plain mask that concealed most of his face.\n\nHe lets out a roar and charges again. His charge seems simple - almost amateur, but strangely familiar. He swings in a colossal arc into my block. My bones creak and my muscles cry, barely holding my body together under the shattering force of the blow. My right leg betrays me and my right knee rushes to the ground, my sword barely maintaining my balance.\n\nThe man swings again at an impossible speed towards my torso. I force myself to block, dodge, anything at this point, but my body refuses to listen. The sword weaves through me and out the other side with seemingly no resistance at all.\n\nStill I kneel, bewildered. I feel no pain. Looking downwards, it seems like the sword has indeed met no resistance at all - my clothes, arms, body, all perfectly intact.\n\nPerhaps I was still recovering from the initial shock of being thrust into this world, or by the assailant, but I just started to notice a group of four standing in the distance, just trembling.\n\nThen a sound hits me. I turn towards the source and find my assailant thrashing on the ground, struggling to get the mask off.\n\n\"Your face, oh man, your face!\" he writhes in laughter, finally managing to peel away the mask.\n\n\"Tyler?\" I shout in disbelief, \"What the fuck?\"\n\nTyler tries to comprise himself, unsuccessfully, as he manages to squeeze out, \"It was Adam's idea.\"\n\nI turn around towards the group of four just as Adam starts shouting.\n\n\"How'd you like your viking trial, Steve? Fancying a little Valhalla now are we?\"\n\nWith Adam stood John, Kevin, and David, their smug faces bright red from holding in their laughter. The last time we've all been together was in the winter of 2008, at the bowling alley up on 3rd street. Before David decided to have a heart attack in 2009 and leave us all behind.\n\n\"Okay now calm down Mr. I'd-like-a-viking-funeral,\" Adam chortled whilst wiping away his tears, \"Let's go grab some beers for our new Valhalla resident.\"\n\n\"After I beat the shit out of you!\" I shouted as I started to chase Adam's fleeing figure, before turning around to my supposed friends, \"You fuckers are next!\"", "Dead. Again. \n\nSteven groaned and pushed himself out of the mud. That had been a new pain for him - an arrow through the eye, right out the back of his skull. He flinched again at the thought of it. He touched his wound, and was surprised to find that he was still whole.\n\nSuddenly, a boot landed next to his head, splashing him with blood and dirty water. Steven lay very still, pretending to be dead - well, more dead. Sometimes, he wished he was. \n\nHe usually got that wish.\n\n\"Still on your ass, recruit? 'Tis dawn! We fight!\" Said the viking warrior who owned the boot. \n\n\"Please...I haven't eaten...in days...\" Steven groaned. \n\n\"You don't get fed here for getting killed in practice, son. Up! It's not like you will die of hunger, after all...you're already dead!\" \n\nThe man hauled him to his feet, laughing uproariously at his own joke. He thrust a halberd into Steven's hands the moment that he could stand. Steven took it, his hands shaking. \n\n\"Please...must I fight? I'm not...never going to be strong enough to win. I'm not one of you...hell, I'm not even supposed to be here. Can't you...just kill me, so I can get some rest?\" He said. The viking rearranged his eye patch, making Steven flinch. \n\n\"Son...\" The viking began, looking at him pityingly. \"Are you...a coward?\" \n\nSteven frowned at the words. \"No, I'm...I don't want to be, I just...\" he trailed off, not looking the man in the face. \n\n\"Let me show you something, my child. Before the battle begins in true.\" The man said. \"Do you see, on the battlefield...do you see all of the skulls? The bones?\" \n\nSteven nodded. It was true, from what he could tell - the battlefield was littered with charred skulls, mandibles, and other grisly carnage untouched by the circling crows above. It was gruesome, to say the least. Steven hated those grounds. He couldn't go two steps without snapping an ancient femur. \n\n\"What of them?\" He asked the man. \"Old skulls...I'm sure you see new ones every day, with all the bloodshed.\" \n\n\"No, son.\" The viking said, shaking his head and making his scraggly white beard wag over his belly. \"Not like this, not these skulls. Those are the skulls of the weak. The cowards, those who gave up instead of fighting. The rest of us, well, we always wake up in the light of the dawn. But they...they have made their choice. I give thanks to them every day for reminding me never to give up.\" \n\nSteven felt his stomach roil. \"I...I can't be like them.\" He said. \n\n\"And you shall not, so long as you continue to fight.\" Replied the viking. \"You haven't failed yet, boy. And say what you will...but I think you were meant to be here. Why, on your first day, I thought you would drop your axe the moment you were given it! Now, you are lasting longer and longer. Be proud, and fight on, knowing that you will be stronger every day!\" \n\nSteven swallowed, nodding. \"Al...alright. So, when do we begin?\" He asked. \n\nA cry came from behind a small outcrop of trees, and three enormous warriors leapt out out into the open, charging Steven and his viking companion. \n\n\"It appears that we being now.\" The viking chuckled. \"Take heard, son of man! For today, you fight side by side with Odin, king of the gods!\" \n\nHe charged in as well, slaying the first man with a well-timed thrust of his lance before the man could even pull back his hammer. \n\n\"Well, boy? What are you waiting for?\" Odin yelled. Steven smiled. \n\nHe squared his shoulders, and after a moment he, too, entered the fray - screaming all the while. ", "The first time I had been afraid and confused. As my consciousness crash-zoomed into the blood-strewn battlefields of Valhalla, my dying memories seemed but a moment away. Driving my car home from the game, I'd absent-mindedly broken off a piece of beef jerky as I hit a pothole, inhaling it right into my throat where it became wedged. Screeching to a halt, the stench of burning rubber filled my final inward breath as life slowly faded.\n\nA low-hanging mist of woodsmoke and burning flesh seemed to pour from the battlefield and into my being, what I know now as the mystical essence of the funeral pyre transporting my corporeal form to this otherworldly plane. I felt myself growing more physical, more complete until the final twist of smoke brought me to my feet. \n\nWith the smoke now cleared, I looked beyond my feet to the fields beyond and was immediately stunned by the death-cry of a hundred thousand warriors beating swords against shields.\n\nThen they charged.\n\nCaught naked in the maelstrom, I flinched and cowered against the inevitable. One warrior, wrapped in fur bearing a rough-hewn axe and wooden shield, broke free from the pack and bore down upon me, eyes wild with bloodlust. With a single sickening blow of his axe, I felt myself flung spinning into the air, landing moments later unceremoniously in the blood-soaked mud alongside my now-beheaded corpse.\n\nThen I began to understand, and I forgave my son for carrying out my naive dying wish, for where I should have felt excruciating pain, I only felt extreme pleasure, beyond words.\n\nFrom the gaping wound at the stump of my neck waves of pure joy radiated. As the sensation overwhelmed me, I found myself transported to an endless field of lush green grasses and berry shrubs where stunningly beautiful angels - no - Valkyrie - tended to my wounds and then, as the ambrosia from their heavenly ales soothed my spirit, assisted me with other earthly desires.\n\nLater, after I was guided to the great hall, we ate and drank, telling stories of our deaths. A circle gathered around me, for it was rare to see a new \"warrior'. Of course they knew that the world beyond had changed, they knew we no longer fought with swords and axes, so the lacklustre story of my passing brought forth only a sense of genuine mirth, not the anger I had expected.\n\nI look forward to tomorrow. I've learned to seek out death and that pleasure beyond words. I don't know about the other heavens, but I'm happy in valhalla.", "Two thousand, three hundred, and twenty-six.\n\nI keep the time in deaths now. It’s easier than marking the days; after all, there are no says anymore. Everything in Valhalla is grey; the sky, the snow, the rocks. Back when I was delusional enough to hope I might ever get out of this place, I marked the days on a rock, but after a year or two I’d covered the whole thing in scratches. \n\nHonestly, I don’t know why Stygg didn’t just lop my head off the second he saw me. He found me crawled up into a ball in the middle of the snow, naked and cold. Around us, the snowy fields stretched away forever. “Take this,” he said, throwing me an axe and some clothes that itched like hell. \n\nThen came number one. Well, Stygg did most of the work, but I’m still counting it. What’s he going to do about it? Even without Stygg, I reckon I could have taken him; he had a few scraps of cloth on him and a rock clasped between his hands, but other than that, he seemed half mad. He lunged at me, but Stygg swung his axe right into his neck. When he pulled it out, he dragged a chunk of meat out with it. \n\nHe explained how things were. We were all dead down here (I don’t know how “down” came into it, but if my old life was ever even real, then I’m sure we’re below it), and here we fought. \n\n“Why?”\n\nStygg shrugged. “Good way to get your hands on more supplies. Something to do. It’s in the nature of mankind. I wish I knew. I wish I asked myself the same thing back when I still breathed.”\n\nI kicked the dead body of the man who had attacked us. “We’re already dead, right? So how can he die again?”\n\nKneeling, he closed the body’s eyes. “A better place than this, I hope.”\n\n“So why don’t you just kill yourself? I mean, it can’t be any worse than here, right?”\n\nHe eyed the axe. “If one death was not enough for you, then you are welcome to attempt a second.”\n\n“Point taken.”\n\nAnd so he lead me away, over the endless ice fields, through a twisted and broken midnight forest, inside the jaw of a terrible beast’s skeleton, dead a thousand years. We sailed across an endless grey sea, where great nameless things shifted just beneath the surface, and walked through a castle so tall it punched through the clouds. Row after row of uneven shacks clung to the inside, all the way to the sheer wall of the castle; there, they followed it upwards past the clouds. \n“Why don’t we just stay here?” I asked. \n\n“Too many bad memories.” Stygg did not elaborate. \n\nFinally, we reached the place that Stygg called home: a small cave filled with animal skins and a few weapons. He lit the fire, and we sat around it as he said why he spared me. \n\n“I want to end this. All this fighting, all this war- I have suffered enough of it in life. For the first few thousand kills, I enjoyed it, as much as we all did. But… I have grown tired and lonely. I want this all to stop. It nearly did… once. I marched to find you. Do not ask how I knew where you would be, for I do not know myself. I simply… knew.” He offered up his cup to clink. “May you be the first of many.”\nI kept count of days, although Stygg quickly advised against it. “There is no time here. Only death. It will do no good to remember that there was anything else before this. You were born here, and will exist here until you die.”\n\nI ignored him, clinging onto that final scrap of hope that I might ever leave this place. Stupid of me. \n\n“Do not despair. For this place is only desolate if we fail to make it otherwise.” \n\nI still think about him sometimes. I wish he had been right. \n", "The axe, aimed well for you to catch, struck you square in the chest. It came to rest in a patch of yellowed grass and the apparition who’d thrown it was motioning for you to take it up. The sky was overcast, and a battle was raging next to a thicket. The ghost approached and spoke in an irritated tone, “You should not have come here, Steve of Melville. You have no place with my people. Why are you here?”\n\nA thought fills you with dread. You are dead. You were Steve, and you did live in Melville. You remember this, and you remember dying. And these are not the thoughts which are bothering you. As a joke you had asked for a funeral befitting a viking warrior, and you remember flashes of it. The pyre, the smoke, the ceremony. Your son had done as you asked. You remember the cancer that killed you, and the pain which you no longer feel. These are not the thoughts that are bothering you. Or perhaps they are. It’s that you are having thoughts at all. That is what is worrying you.\n\n“Why are you here?” screamed the ghost, demanding an answer.\n\n“I,” you stutter, “I don’t know. I didn’t think there would be an afterlife.”\n\n“How can you not know of the afterlife? I am to take you to Hel. You are not worthy of any place but that of the sickly and weak. Come, we will have to fight our way to the river.”\n\n“What do you mean, I’m going to Hell? Hell, hell? Fire and brimstone?” you start in a panic.\n\n“Fire, brimstone? I know not what lies in Helregrinn’s halls,” the ghost paused for a moment and laughed, “Perhaps you can tell me once you have seen it!” He looked down at the axe, and then at you expectantly. You reach down and grasp the axe, and recoil as a flash of sensations shocks you. You had got glimpses of moments, past and future in that touch. The ghost laughed again, “Hah! You’ve never used a weapon like this before have you? These weapons are made of the primal essence, the spirit that binds us all across realms. If you fall in battle to one, your spirit will be shattered and you will be truly gone. Pick it up, and endure.”\n\nYou grasp it once more and allow the rush of emotions and visions to flash through your being. The visions are distracting but with concentration you stay grounded. \n\n“Follow, Steve of Melville,” the ghost began marching toward the thicket, “Gjallarbrú is on the other side of those woods.”\n\n“What is that? And why are there battles in the afterlife?” you ask, as if an answer could remove you from your predicament.\n\n“There is a river you must cross to enter Helregrinn’s realm. Gjallarbrú is the bridge. That is our destination.”\n\nVisions from the axe flutter by. On your sons 37th birthday he is married, divorced, and dead in different visions. You feel that they are possibilities and that the axe allows you to see them. You want to see more of the happy moments and drift into the axe’s domain, but are shocked back into the afterlife. You are staring up at the clouded sky with your ghostly guide crouched over you, holding your axe. “I told you to endure. If you cannot, you will be drawn into the visions and be lost forever,” he warned.\n\n“Are the visions real?” you wonder out loud.\n\n“They may be, but they may not be. Only the gods can wield the power of the primal essence to craft the stories of the living. If you try, your spirit will be destroyed. The weapon uses our souls to power itself. Best to let it use the souls of your foes, yes?” He extends his hand and helps you to your feet before handing the axe back.\n\n“Will I be able to watch my son have his family in Helregrinn’s place?” you ask.\n\n“I don’t know,” the ghost answered. The thicket was nearing and you can see that the vikings are fighting various creatures which emerge from the woods, and retreat. Wolves the size of bears rushed out alongside stags who’s fur was black as the darkest night, and who’s eyes glowed red with anger and rage. \n\n“What can you tell me about it? There must be rumours.”\n\n“I have heard that it is a realm under the world made of golden mansions and of lavish decoration. The walls are built higher than any others there. There is a knife there called hunger. A dish known as famine. You may stumble upon the threshold and sleep in the sickbeds you will find within. There is no honour to be found and Hel will not give up her souls for anything. It is possible that the illness you bore in life will be your everlasting punishment. This is what I have heard. I do not know for certain.”\n\nOne of the warriors was being pushed back by an especially large stag and called for assistance. Your guide rushed to his aide. You know you are expected to cry out and jump in to battle. But you were not a viking. This battle was not your battle and you balk. The axe pulses in your hand and you wonder if your spirit can ensure one of the visions becomes true. If you try, the ghost had said, your spirit will be destroyed. Used up by the event you suspect. You grip the axe and close your eyes and the visions wash over you. You feel happiness, contentment, and after some searching you find overwhelming joy. There is your son, with a woman. They are in love, and she is telling him they are to have a baby. You focus on this moment and everything else fades. You are nothing but joy, and the moment becomes real to you. You want to open your eyes but they will not obey. It is dark, and sounds are muffled and becoming ever more quiet and distant. You are warm, comfortable, and tired. The visions no longer wash over you and neither does anything else. Relieved, you rest in peace.", "She was silver, with wings of the purest white. She wrapped her arms about me, I’d consider it tender and loving. Except her steel gauntlets pinched viciously against my armpits, the fires consumed my long cold corpse, like kindling to a flame.\n\nWho are you? I would of asked, but no words could pass my lips as I ascended. My family was sprawled out beneath me, a modest turnout at best, all in mourning clothes. My son, he did not cry. But simply pinched his nose and frowned. I suppose I am cooking down there. \n\nShrugging I look up upon the woman who carries me with such ease, her face was a mask wrought iron, gilded in silver runes. Swan feather decorated where visor joined helm, an inch of where her ears would be. I’d consider her a statue animated. If not for the slight glimpse of a fine angular chin where her gorget met her helmet. \n\nA Beautiful Angel. I decided based on that small slither of exposed flesh that my ride gracefully chose to leave un-armoured. How one tells that based on just a bit of chin I could not explain. Hi, my name is Steve. I try to say, but my vocal cords fail to respond. \n\nAs her great white wings flap more ferociously and the mourning figures below turn to naught but ants beneath my feet, I can’t help but notice the hard lumps of steel cracking against the back of my skull with each flutter of her wings. \n\nBeautiful and well endowed. I decided, looking up once more, I can’t help but feel the dark shadowed eye slits of the angel would be looking at me with reproach. But that would be silly, no one can read minds. \n\nFrowning I take a moment to consider my current situation, I died. That’s a simple fact, I am burning a few hundred meters below and am currently ascending to heaven, and the world is going black… \n\n-----------------------------------------------------------\n\nAnd then it hit me, with a crack. A great bearded face with a veined bulbous nose was screaming at me, his arms thick as tree-trunks with vast intricate scripts tattooed along the length and breadth of his arms. I fell to the floor, he screamed at me again. Yellow rotten teeth spraying spittle across my face. \n\nHe sticks a large booted foot upon my chest, I hear ribs crack as he applies his weight, he grabs the handle sprouting out of my forehead with both hands. And then he pulls viciously, as the hammerhead parts from my skull with an unpleasant squelch. I can’t help but consider as the world once more fades to black, that perhaps I was wrong in my previous assessment. And this was not heaven. \n\n-----------------------------------------------------------\n\n“Crap, you standing there for arseling.” The bearded man shouts at me, brandishing his great war-hammer in his right hand, willow-wood shield adorned with a painted device of a white raven on a black field in the other.\n\nComing to sudden realization that I should perhaps run, I attempt to turn away. When a well chiseled youth, tall with resplendent gold hair and emerald green eyes thrusts a spear into you hand. “Spit him, lord.” the youth tells me helpfully.\n\nI arch a brow taking the spear on impulse, as I attempt to ask the youth what is happening, once more, I hear the roar of the veiny nosed man. And promptly, I turned, and fled. \n \nNow, I can’t say what was the last thing that went through my mind. But I highly suspect it was that hammer again. I woke up sometime later, to bawdy songs about women. Across from me the handsome youth was miming something to the bulbous nosed man with his fingers. \n\n“Hi, my name is Steve.” I said, making myself jump. I did not expect my vocal cords to suddenly start functioning again, I look around confused and gaze at the expectant faces of Bulbous nose and Handsome Youth. “Where am I?”\n\n“Where are ya!” Bulbous nose says, “Steve, you’re in the hall of Odin himself, where you shall spend eternity in glorious battle, till Ragnarok.” he nodded to himself as if that explained everything.\n\n“Ah, of course.” I replied, still looking somewhat perplexed. But I did not wish to appear stupid in front of my new drinking partners. Sipping on the ale laid out before me, I try to plot my escape.\n\nThen a low horn blast filled the hall, the hundreds of fellow’s that I am currently sharing the great feasting hall with all stand and begin to rather neatly exit the premises in double file. I choose to stand next to bulbous nose, less he sticks a hammer in my skull again. \n\n“Where are we going?” I ask politely.\n\nThe handsome youth smiles at me “War of course, we’re to fight against Thor’s Long Hall.” he says in a tone that would have me believe that explained everything. \n\n“I’m Steve.” Is all I could come up with as a matter of reply. \n\n“Ragnar.” Growls the bulbous nose man.\n\n“Guthbert.” States the handsome youth. And then we exited the hall into a cloud of pale grey mist. \n\n-----------------------------------------------------------\n\nIt was at this moment, standing in the midst of a horde of screaming, growling barbarian warriors that I realized I probably should've stayed in the hall. \n\nBut here I was, with a ashwood shafted spear and a willow-wood shield bearing a strange device, a nintendo switch upon a pale blue field. I decided that I should try and blend in, and began to shout insults along with my fellow hall-men. \n\n“Who ate all the pies!” I would scream, “You fat bastards, you fat bastards, you ate all the pies.” much to my surprise, bulbous nose or Ragnar as it turns out he is known and Guthbert began to chant alongside me. And then the whole war-band was screaming about Bustards, Bastards, Buttfarts and Pies. \n\nIt seems even in hell people remain hard of hearing.\n\nIt’s at this point that the mists before us began to clear and the shield wall of the opposing long hall came into view. My shouting swiftly died off, replaced by a strange warm dampness seeping down my trousers.\n\nA tall resplendent warrior, with a great high helm, crowned with a snarling wolf stepped forth from the opposing shield wall. He shouted something in a strange tongue and pointed a great long sword in my direction. \n\n“New guy, you’re up.” Guthbert informs me with a shove. \n\n“Steve!” shouts Ragnar. \n\nSoon the whole war band is shouting my name in encouragement, with the opposing war band sneering and snarling in my general direction. The wolf helm warrior urinates in my direction, while making horns with his free hand. \n\nLooking around for a path of escape and finding none I reside myself to my fate. Hoisting up my shield with my unusual device and lowering my spear, I charged at the wolf helmeted warrior. Screaming at the top of my lungs.\n\nHe moved gracefully, like liquid water upon the battlefield. Just as I got within reach to shaft him with my spear as Guthbert previously advised he stepped smoothly to the side. And as I slipped clumsily passed him, I felt steel bite into my neck. And then the world was spinning. \n\nLooking up at my twitching, headless corpse from this strange vantage point I can’t help but feel that I am going to have a hard time in this strange afterlife. \n\nBefore the world went black once more, I can’t help but remember my instructor's words before my first skydive.\n\n“Good luck Steve.”\n\n\t\n\n\n \n\n\n \n\n", "\"Here we are, your afterlife.\"\n\nDeath lead me trough a gate. I was standing on a wide plain field and I could see a man coming closer. He looked like a viking from one of the movies.\n\nHe threw me a sword.\n\n\"Prepare yourself warrior!!!\"\n\nI turned around.\n\n\"Woah,woah Grim. What the fuck man? Where did you led me?\"\n\n\"Valhalla, Frank. The vikings version of afterlife.\"\n\n\"But Im not a viking.\"\n\n\"Well, your son buried you with a viking ritual so its going to be Valhalla for you. Dont blame me, you wanted it that way.\"\n\nDeath shrugged.\n\n\"Anyway, I got to go. Got lot of other stuff to do. Oh and by the way, you should definetly parry this strike.\"\n\n\"What?\"\n\nThe axe buried deep into my flesh, tearing my intestines apart and shattering several rips. I fell and layed on the ground, unable to move an inch.\n\nDeath waved me when he went trough the gate again.\n\n\"Dont worry Frank, I know you will be fine. After all its not like you could die here anyway hehe...\"\n\nThe warrior was standing over me and man he was impressive. I mean Im pretty jacked from the weekly trips to the gym but he was definetly in another league. If I was Batman, that guy would definetly be the Hulk.\n\n\"By Odin, I even warned you and gave you a weapon. And you still dont parry? By the way, the name is Olaf.\"\n\nHe reached me his hand. I tried to lift mine but all I could do was gurgling out blood.\n\n\"Oh I forgot..\"\n\nOlaf started to put back my intestines into my body. When he was done he made a makeshift bandage with my shirt to hold them inside.\n\nAfter a while the pain was gone and I could stand up again. Olaf grinned.\n\n\"Nice isnt it? No matter how grave the injury, after a while it all heals by itself. Maybe now you could tell me your name.\"\n\n\"Im Frank.\"\n\n\"Pleasure to meet you. How did you die?\"\n\n\"My Cobra got shot down by an Igla in Afghanistan.\"\n\n\"What has your snake to do with your death?\"\n\n\"I mean my chopper got shot down.\"\n\n\"Whats a chopper? Sounds like a berserker who likes to cut things.\"\n\n\"Olaf, when did the last warrior arrive in Valhalla?\"\n\n\"That must have been 1200 something.\"\n\nI sighed, no wonder he didnt know what I was talking about. We sat down and I started to tell him what happened in the last 800 years. When I was finished it was already getting dark.\n\n\"By the gods, all this happened in the last 800 years? Life now sound completely different than ours.\"\n\n\"And it keeps changing, not always for the good tough.\"\n\n\"Also there is no honor in the way you fight. What kind of warrior sits on the other side of the world and moves only a finger to wipe out an entire village?\"\n\n\"Welcome to the 21th century...\"\n\n\"Loki be cursed, its already getting dark. We have to get back to the great hall.\"\n\n\"Great hall?\"\n\n\"Yes the hall were we feast and drink. But only real warriors are supposed to sit at the table. And judging from your tellings you have no idea how to fight with a sword, spear or axe.\"\n\n\"Well, I know how to use a knife.\"\n\n\"Prove it.\"\n\nOlaf threw me a knife and we both readied our weapons. With a fearsome battlecry he lunged at me. I dodged to the side and cut his arm. He tried to hit me with a second strike and I ducked under it and rammed the blade into his chest. He started to spit blood but grabbed me with both of his arms. \n\nI couldnt move and he started to crush me with his bro hug. I could hear my bones crack when he suddenly stopped and let go of me.\n\n\"That should do. Not bad considering you have been fighting with this toy. Some practice and you can take it with every warrior here. Now come, a feast is awaiting us.\"\n\nWe walked to a castle and entered it. Inside was a huge hall, rich with ornaments and decorations. The tables reached from one end of the room to the other and there must have been enough space for thousands of people. Between the tables beautiful maidens in artful armors were walking up and down and serving food and mead to the warrirors.\n\nI followed Olaf and we both took seat.\n\n\"Olaf!!! Where have you been?\"\n\nAnother warrior at the table gretted him.\n\n\"I was picking up a new warrior Einar.\"\n\n\"A new warrior? You dont mean this weakling?\" \n\nThe muscular giant pointed at me.\n\n\"Frank might look like a weakling but he is good with a knife. Almost defeated me while attacking head on.\"\n\nThe other warriors started to laugh. One of the put a horn filled with mead in fron of me.\n\n\"In this case, welcome in Valhalla Frank. A toast to our newest warrior!!!!\"\n\nEveryone lifted their horns, toasted and drank it without putting it down. I tried my best but started to choke.\n\nOlaf patted on my back.\n\n\"Yeah, we gotta work on this too.\"\n\nI finished coughing and one of the maidens refilled my horn with mead.\n\n\"So, what are you guys doing here all day?\"\n\n\"What every man dreams of. We feast and drink, sleep, fight at daylight and in the evening we feast and drink again.\"\n\nOlaf bumped me into my side.\n\n\"You will like it here, trust me.\"\n\n\"And sometimes we will even get to know the Valkyries a little bit better, if you catch my meaning.\" the warrior said with a wink.\n\nI lifted my horn again.\n\nWell, sounds like its not that bad after all.", "\"Wait wait wait wait,\" I started as the bellowed at me. He made me look like a shrimp. The man was built like he built brick houses and then ate them for breakfast. \"There has to be some sort of mistake.\"\n\n\"You've joined us,\" the man cried out to some heaven as he pulled a horn off of his belt, \"now you may fight for eternity.\"\n\n\"I've joined you?\"\n\n\"You were burned in the proper ways after a valiant death,\" he said with the horn to his lips. \"Now you're one of us.\"\n\n\"I still don't know what's going on.\"\n\n\"You'd better learn quick warrior!\" the hulk laughed. He blew into the horn, and the call of a thousand armies echoed over the white around me.\n\nWait, everything was white? It'd been black ever since I'd died. I'd been dead, and I'd been disappointed there was nothing. There was nothing after death but now there was... him?\n\n\"Are you God?\" I asked.\n\n\"Not any one of them,\" the man said. He drew a massive battleaxe off his hip and gripped it with white knuckles. The sword he'd thrown me was getting heavy. I looked from it to his battle axe and then back to him.\n\n\"Am I supposed to fight you?\" I asked.\n\n\"Not me my man!\" he said. \n\nAs if on cue the white fog around us started rolling away. It turned into gleaming blades There was dust and blood, a massive pike of bodies shifting around one another. Oh God, what the fuck was goi-\n\nI caught the scream of the man running behind me a second before he caught me in the neck.\n\n---\n\nI snapped my eyes open with the feeling of steel still creaking into my neck. I sat up. Had I been lying down? Frankly dying was pretty damn disorienting. I knew I'd been stabbed in the neck, but couldn't follow after. I was in a bed room, a lavish one at that. No T.V but I didn't know what I was expecting. This was hell, not heaven.\n\nI cracked the steel out of my neck. After half a second I felt better than I ever had alive. I ran my hand over the fur blanked that covered my bed. I was still miles behind whatever was going on here.\n\nSomeone pounded on the door, each knock sounded like a brutal kick. I pulled myself off the bed and checked my clothes. The same suit I'd died in. \n\nI cracked open the door and the hulking man from the battlefield shoved his way into the room. I stumbled back and his massive biceps and beard carved a path into my new home. At least it felt like it was mine.\n\n\"A bit basic, don't you think?\" he suggested.\n\n\"What?\"\n\n\"Where're your trophies man? All warriors bring their trophies into Valhalla.\"\n\n\"Valhalla?\" I repeated, \"the Viking place?\"\n\n\"Valhalla!\" he yelled this time. I winced at the volume. \"Don't worry, the first day was rough for us all, hard to batlte warriors with an eternity of experience.\"\n\n\"So I died.\"\n\n\"Stuck down from behind,\" the man hung his shoulders low and scoffed, \"though the fellow did yell to let you know he was coming.\"\n\n\n\"Well that was sweet of him.\"\n\n\"No warrior wants to win by surprise,\" the man said. He held out a hand to me, it must have been as big as all my muscles combined, \"my name is Tholmor Gragson, and yours?\"\n\n\"Malcolm, Malcolm Jung,\" I said. I didn't think middle names were needed.\n\n\"Well Malcolm Jung,' the man straightened himself up and turned out to be a foot and a half taller than me. \"A lot of people are larger to meet you.\"\n\n\"Me?\"\n\n\"Aye, no warriors have arrived in the past 300 years,\" he explained. He spoke softer than he had thus far, and I was surprised he could do anything other than scream. \"It's been a dark time.\"\n\n\"Well I'm not exactly a warrior,\" I pointed out.\n\n\"But you're here,\" Tholmor clapped me on the back and I almost coughed up a lung, \"so we're going to make you one.\"\n\n\"Alright,\" I squeaked out. That was fucked up, all of this was fucked up, but it was better than staring out into blackness for the rest of my life. I was afraid of the dark.\n\n---\n\nTholmor'd explained to me that he was the last grand warrior to arrive in Valhalla. It wasn't a long tale, and he a storyteller, but it meant that he was supposed to show me the ropes of Valhalla. The ropes were pretty simple, we fought and then we had a grand feast.\n\nHe hadn't been kidding about the Grand part.\n\nAs Tholmor marched down the hallway, with me plodding beside him, the sound of yelling slowly overtook our footsteps. Unlike the battlefield the men in the banquet hall weren't bellowing, they were cheering one another on.\n\nWe rounded the corner to the sound of the mead hall and Tholmor kicked open the Massive door that stood in our way. The mahogany buckled under his strength and swung open to the great hall, which stopped.\n\nStrapping men were surrounded by tankards and meat. They sat on chairs of gold around great tables of silver, each one as long as a thousand football fields. I couldn't see the end of the hall, but I knew the entire thing glittered with avarice.\n\n\"Einherjar and Valkyries!\" Tholmor yelled out into the banquet, \"the warrior Malcolm Soo has joined us for our future battle against Fenrir!\"\n\nThe crowd cheered like I did for football, they slammed their tankards and bellowed. The massive wave of sound crashed over me, a tidal wave of appreciation. It was a bit much really.\n\n\"Don't disappoint them,\" Tholmor said as he slapped me on the back and I staggered half a dozen steps into the hall to catch my balance. How the hell was I supposed to avoid disappointing them? They were a million, maybe more, fierce warriors. All of them were like Tholmor and I could barely manage him liking me. What was I supposed to do to impress these men here?\n\nThe closest group, a massive throng of warriors that happened to be closest to me, waved me over to their seats. One of them moved to the side, revealing that his great frame was taking up two of the gold chairs. He waved for me to come over, and I wasn't about to question the hospitality of a man who could use me as a tooth pick.\n\nI plopped down into the seat and the rest of the room resumed their merriment. I could barely hear the man beside me as he spoke through a braided beard. “Man, would you like a drink?”\n\n“Maybe a dozen,” I suggested as a joke. It’d been a long day, and a cold beer sounded like heaven. I’d never been much of a drinker back home, but I knew how to let loose at Holiday parties.\n\n“A DOZEN?” the braidbeard bellowed in disbelief. His voice carried across the hall, “you must have a might warriors stomach under those women’s shoulders.”\n\n“Fetch this man a dozen drinks!” the man across from me yelled. He wasn’t as large as the others around me. He was as close to lithe as any of them got, but he could probably curl me. “He needs to rest up for battle tomorrow.”\n\n“If I could drink a dozen at a time I don’t think I’d do anything else,” braidbeard said to the man. “My name is Ol-”\n\n“No it isn’t!” the man across cut in, “it’s Twofingers.”\n\nBraidbeard sighed, “He’s not wrong,” he held up his hand and revealed his namesake, his right hand had been mangled to the point where could only wear a ring and hold a thumb war. “That scum Olafur knew me in life.”\n\n“He was my teacher,” Olafur yanked his tankard off the table and shoved it toward me, “here have mine.”\n\n“I taught him to swing a blade,” Twofingers continued as Olafur kept shaking his tankard in front of me. I eventually grabbed it. It was less of a glass and more of a pitcher.\n\n“Then he lost his head in a battle with the English,” Olafur said, “but he’d had two fingers for a long time before that. He strapped his axe to his arm and cleaved those poor bastards in two.”\n\n“Don’t take away my tales,” Twofingers cut in. He held his tankard up to me and I cheersed him. The shock ran up my arm as I pulled the ale to my lips. “Luckily I taught Olafur how to kill a man before I came here. Now I can kill him as much as I want.”\n\n“So never?” Olafur suggested.\n\n“I let you win because your mother had a nice ass,” Twofingers said. He started draining his ale. I figured I should follow.\n\nThe stench of alcohol hit me first, slapping me in the face and clawing my eyes open. How was I supposed to- there were 100,000 vikings around me expecting me to drink twelve of these tankards, I couldn’t back out on the first sip.\n\nI let the ale flow into my mouth and it burned like bleach. It slashed at my tongue and throat, trying to rip them out of my body. After the first gulp I figured I needed to give in, admit that everything’d been a joke, but then the nectar kicked in.\n\nThe drink in my hands was the sweet nectar of the gods, a test to see if you were brave enough to handle their fury, but then you got their love. The burning faded into a blissful calm, something between a sugary drink and a cool autumn creek. I’d never known what a creek tasted like, but we were missing out on Earth if they were anything like this.\n\nI chugged down the gift, letting the bliss flow over me. Both Olafur and Twofingers gasped as I kept going. Why would they ever stop.\n\n“Malcolm, you might want to-” Tholmor started. Before he could come close to finishing I got what he meant. There was a sudden kick in my stomach as the fire started back up. It was burning inside me.\n\nThen the ale decided to pull out daggers and stab me from the inside, I gasped and did my best not to scream. I started sweating as it fought against me, battled against my stomach and throat. It was going to pull out of me. I didn’t know how beer got swords but it fucking had.\n\nI gasped for breath and reached back to Tholmor, he did the only thing he could, he offered a slap on the back. I coughed, and some of the ale spilled out of me.\n\nI sputtered for a second time and I coughed up the smallest bit of red. I didn’t know if it was my heart, or just my pride, but either way I’d gotten my ass kicked. My head hit the table, hard.\n\n“That was grand!” Olafur bellowed from his seat before slamming the table. I hadn’t realized how quiet I’d gotten until Olafur shattered it. I smiled weakly and tried to sit up. Nope. “Bring the man his second quickly!” \n\nAt least they seemed to like me no matter what here.\n\n/r/JacksonWrites" ]	8
	[WP] You wake up as normal and continue with your regular morning routine. When you get to work you discover no one can see or hear you.	[ "I woke up this morning and saw that I was, once again, already running late for work. \"Ugh, Zane left and forgot to wake me up,\" I grumbled as I immediately jump out of bed and groggily make my way to the bathroom to prepare myself for work. After getting myself ready to go, I call out to Fred so he could walk me to the door as usual. \"Hmm, that's unusual. He always comes running to walk me to the door and to get a few last snuggles before I head out,\" I mutter to myself, \"I don't have time to play games with this cat. I have to go now.\"\n\nI run out of the apartment and speed walk all the way to the train station. As I'm making my way towards the turnstile a lady completely cuts me off and goes in front of me, \"EXCUSE ME!\" I snap at her as she passes by, \"So you're going to just ignore me and pass on by right?\" I tell her as she continues on to the train platform as if no one was talking to her. \"People have no manners now a days. Ugh\" I mutter to myself as I make my way onto the station. \n\nAfter an uneventful train ride to work, I finally arrive at to the building. As I make my way to the door a man just lets the door go as I was making my way through, \"Sheesh, people are so rude today. I can already imagine the kind of day I'll be having today,\" I groan as I rush my way to my office. Once there I start working on some files and engross myself with work. \"It's so weird without her here, I just can't believe she's gone,\" I hear Tom say, \"Yeah, I'm still in shock. Such a nice girl gone too soon,\" chimmed in Alyssa. \"Hey guys, who are you talking about? Did I miss something?\" I ask from my desk. \"I can't imagine how her boyfriend feels. Poor guy must be devasted.\" Alyssa continued. Annoyed I get up from desk and walk over to where Alyssa and Tom were standing. \"Hey guys, everything ok?\" I ask. Alyssa sighs and walks back to her desk and Tom stares at his phone. \"So you guys are ignoring me then?\" I say a little louder, feeling the annoyance start to rise. \"Deidre's wake will be held tomorrow afternoon and the funeral will be Saturday morning followed by the burial at Eastwood Cemetery,\" she said sadly as she posted an announcement on the board, \"She will be greatly missed here,\" she said as she walked back to her office. \"What's. Going. On. Here?\" I ask, barely able to contain my panic. I rush over to the board and see \"On Wednesday January 25th we lost a great co-worker, friend and ally: Deidre Peters. Her wake will be held this Friday from 4pm-9pm at Latsky's Funeral Home.\" I couldn't contain my shock. \"HELLO! IT'S ME DEIDRE. I'M HERE!!\" I start to yell frantically as I start to throw papers in the air and slamming items from people's desks. \"Oh my God, what's going on?\" Alyssa says nervously, \"I-I don't know. Perhaps an earthquake?\" Michael chimes in. Fed up, I leave the office, \"I don't understand what's going on,\" I say as I make my way out of the building. I continue walking downtown trying my best to get anyone's attention to no avail. As I reach closer to midtown, I see Zane talking on the phone waiting for the light. \"Zane! Zane! Babe!\" I yell out as I ignore the red light and cross the street making my way towards him, \"Zane, it's me!\" I yell out again. For one quick second I feel as though we make eye contact but before I manage to say anything else I turn and see a truck just a few feet away. \"Deiddrreeeeeee!!\" I hear Zane call out, as I prepare for impact.\n\n\"Deidre wake up!\" Zane calls out, \"You're going to be late for work again,\" He says. I jump up and run towards Zane. \"Can you see me?\" I ask him. \"Uh. yeah. Are you feeling ok?\" he says as he stares me with a confused look on his face. \"Oh I've never felt more fine,\" I say as I let out a sigh of relief. \"Just that I guess I'll be late again today.\" I say with a smile as Fred rubs himself around my legs." ]	1
	[WP] In a world where memories are stored in people's hair, you've been hired as a barber.	[ "\"Alan, what are you asking me to do? Where did you even get that thing?\"\nHe shoved the straight razor into my hand, much more insistent this time. \"There's money in my suitcase, if you want it. I guess it's actually your suitcase, I borrowed it three years ago.\" He pulled out a chair from the kitchen table and sat in it.\n\"You know this is illegal, right?\" I asked my brother as he started removing pins from his old fashioned blue headscarf. He untied it and shook his hair loose - it was even longer than our father's had been. Reflexively I touched my hat, making sure my own braided bun was still secure underneath.\n\"Braid it, keep it in a box, if you want. I hear researchers at MIT and Caltech are working on being able to read it. Maybe I'll get my memories back some day. Please, Lucy. Just do it.\"\n\"No. Alan. What's going on? Where did you even get this?\" I gingerly set the razor on the table, next to the pins and old headscarf. I moved to tie his hair back again, like I'd done when we were growing up together. He gently caught my hands. \"No. Just cut it off, Lucy. I'll still remember you, remember family, what's most important to me, at least in broad strokes.\" That's what all the documentaries say, at least, I think to myself. But who knows for sure?\n\"It's illegal. What, do you want me to go to jail or get my hair chopped short, too?\" I pull away and start braiding his hair.\n\"It's not always illegal,\" Alan says after a minute. I've braided down to his shoulders at this point, but when I realize what he said I freeze. The braid loses tension in my fingers, and I start undoing it as I try to think of something to say, blinking back tears.\n\"How bad is it?\" I ask, beginning the braid over again. This time Alan lets me.\n\"My doctor found it early. It probably won't kill me. If I do the chemo.\"\n\"So you've decided then? You want to live with the side effects?\"\n\"Lucy, my choice is to live. Please, just cut it off. I have the notarized documents in the suitcase and everything.\" He cracked a smile. \"I'd also appreciate a ride to the hospital tomorrow morning.\"\nI laugh and tie off the braid. Before I start coiling up his hair, I stop laughing and give my brother a hug. \"You know I'll do anything for you. Why don't you just ask the hospital to do it? I don't want to amputate your hair. They do it often for cancer patients.\"\n\"Because I trust you, and I know you'll take care of it. And of me.\"\n\nEventually I did cut my brother's hair. I left it in the braid, and shaved it off as closely as I could. He's asleep now. And he does remember my name.\nTomorrow we will go to the doctor. And three years or three decades from now, hopefully I will still have my brother.\nI'll hold on to the hair. Just in case those research groups find a way to give it back to him.", "I weaved my fingers in and out, sifting through the thick, black strands and picking out the grey strands hidden under. I expertly nabbed them with one finger, and used the remaining fingers to separate them. As I held the few grey strands, my heart surged with emotions. There's so much pain in this... what could it be? A child? A spouse? An image flashed through my mind as I brushed the grey strands outward.\n\n\"Bad break-up?\" I asked.\n\nThe woman looked up with her eyebrows raised. Why is she surprised? I looked at her full head of pure, black hair, perfect apart from the few strands I held. This shouldn't be her first time.\n\n'I left him. He cheated on me,' came the reply. She looked away at the ground, lips pursed. Cheating spouses. I never knew they were so common until I started my job. I kept silent, as the television switched tunes from an advertisement to the weather report.\n\n\"Alright, you ready for this?\" I lifted my scissors and looked up at the mirror, and saw the woman looking back at me expectantly. There was a pause, as the television chirped on about the weather. \n\n'Yes, please go ahead.'\n\nI lowered my scissors, and with one deft movement, I removed the pain.\n\n---\n\nSince the incident 50 years ago, our hair stopped turning white as a result of natural ageing. Now, our memories are stored in our hair - both good and bad. You can tell how intense the emotions are by their color - the normal, good ones are all black; the negative memories tend towards white. The whiter the hair, the worse the memory.\nIt has become common practice for people to visit a barber regularly to cut off the white hairs. Who would want to keep bad memories when you could remove them?\n\nI was one of the few hired to be a barber because of my gift - Sensers, they called us. We could catch a glimpse of people's memories simply by direct contact with their hair. Some of us have the added gift of being able to experience the pain that comes with the white hair - more of a curse if you ask me. \n\n---\n\nIt was a dull Tuesday afternoon, and I was slouched lazily in my chair, eyes on the television but I wasn't really watching it. It was some news report on the latest criminals that were at large, but I had zoned out as I was thinking about my earlier customer that day who came in with an odd request. 'Shave it all off,' he said. I had to get him to sign a few waiver forms before I obliged. Although it was largely only our episodic memory that is stored in the hair on our heads, you never know what muscle memory involved in some motor function you may accidentally remove. He left the salon with a big smile on his face, eyes wide with innocence and contentment.\n\nI snapped out of my daze when the bells on my salon door jingled. A tall, heavyset man walked in, and he walked over and plopped himself down on the nearer chair. He had a brown cowboy hat on which hid his head, which made me curious. I rose quickly, and strode over to him. His eyes were wide apart - they almost seemed too far apart from each other. His high forehead made his overall face appear to be slightly squashed, especially so as his beard and mustache fully covered the bottom half of his face. He appeared to be in his late thirties or early forties.\n\n'Make it quick,' he muttered, as he removed his hat and placed it on the counter top.\n\nHis long black hair fell out in tresses, reaching past his shoulders. I couldn't see any white - but that was usually the case. People try to hide their bad memories under the happy layer of black. I gently placed my fingers on his head and brushed through his hair. As I loosened up the strands, I saw long, vulgar streaks of white snaking across his head. Wow. What happened to him?\n\n\"Lost someone?\" I asked conversationally, as I prepared my tools.\n\n'Haven't we all,' he replied enigmatically.\n\n\"This... this just looks like you haven't gone in for a cut in a while,\" I observed. As I combed my fingers through his hair again, a small, young face flashed in my mind. \"I'm sorry you lost her. She's your daughter?\"\n\nHe grunted in assent. 'You are one of them Sensers?'\n\n\"Mm hmm.\" I swept a top layer up, and pinned it up to prepare for the cut. Another image flashed in my mind, this time of bruises and cuts of the young girl I saw earlier. \"Mind if I ask what happened?\"\n\n'Car accident. My fault. I beat a red light, and another car hit the two of us. Got us real good.'\n\nThat's odd. His memory of her was when she was awake. She seemed to be in pain. I ventured a guess: \"She didn't last long in the hospital?\"\n\nHe grunted again, but remained silent.\n\nI continued fiddling with his hair, and began snipping off some strands of white, my eyes occasionally darting back to the television screen. The news report on the television was talking about some arsonist now, someone who burned down a science lab. These fanatics are everywhere. They surfaced 50 years ago after the incident occurred, and have been pushing for their cause strongly. \n\n'STOP!' PLEASE STOP!'\n\nI almost dropped my scissors when I heard the pleas, but then I realised they were not coming from the man. I had heard one of his memories. What was that? Was it the girl? No, it was an adult. A woman.\n\n\"Your wife was in the car too?\"\n\n'Huh? What do you see?'\n\n\"Oh, I just heard a woman. I thought it was your wife.\"\n\nHe looked at me with a strange look, as if sizing me up. His eyes fell, and he appeared to be thinking. After a short pause, he said: 'Yea she was in the car too. But she's fine.'\n\nI nodded empathetically. I could feel the guilt when I snipped off a few strands. But there was something else. It was strange, but I couldn't feel any sadness. Any sorrow. Those usually accompanied the feelings of guilt. I ran my fingers through another portion of his hair, as I used my other hand to unclip the previous layer of hair. Anger. Hot, hostile anger. The next image that flashed through my head puzzled me. It was of the little girl I saw earlier, but she was crouched in a fetal position, her body trembling.\n\n\"What happened to the driver who hit you?\"\n\nThe man ran his hand through his beard. His dark, brown eyes met mine in the mirror, and they now appeared slightly wild. His hands gripped the handles of his seat.\n'Are you a cop?'\n\n\"What? No!\"\n\nHe studied me intently, then suddenly reached for his hat. 'Forget it, I'm out.' He got up quickly, and before I knew it, the bells were lightly jingling as they rocked against the door.\n\nWhat the heck was that? I placed my tools down and braced myself against the seat, as I peered out the salon door. What a weirdo. My eyes went back to the television screen, which had just finished its coverage on the arsonist. The news reporter went on to the next item on the list: \"Police are still looking for 40-year old James Lee, who brutally beat his wife and daughter to death a week ago. The police responded to a call after neighbours reported some loud screams and noises coming from his house. They found his wife and daughter lying unconscious on the ground... paramedics were unable to resuscitate them. Neighbours have said that he had been reported for domestic abuse several times in the past, though nothing appeared to happen to him as his wife and daughter did not press charges. James has not returned to his apartment since then.\"\n\nThe screen then flashed a picture of the man, and I felt the hairs on my arm stand. Those wide eyes... those squashed features... there's no doubt about it. \n\nJames Lee was just sitting in my salon a few minutes ago.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n" ]	2
Kind of Truman Show-esque situation you're in buddy. Tell us what you'd do. Edit: Fixed a typo.	[WP] You find a mysterious youtube channel which posts videos of your daily life everyday, it has 2 million subscribers and they play bets on your decisions...	[ "My spine went cold. I clicked next after next videos on that channel. They have everything. Everything! Even moments I was sure I can't be watched, when I masturbate in my room. All the things I do following the movie I watched when I was alone in my room. Embarrassing, but what I couldn't wrapped my head around is: How!? And why? Why me?\n\nIt's true I never really be too careful about it. But, to have my life on video, months of it? Even my most private moments? How? \n\nI can see people betting on what I'm going to do in the comments. They are not very kind with their words too. I can see a lot of people swearing at me, cursing me because they lost the bet, or because of mistakes I made. I thought we all made mistakes?\n\nI watched the videos again. Searching the angle it took the picture from. I look at the corner where it's suppossed to be installed, but there is nothing there. I put my hands on the walls, trying to feel if anything my eyes couldn't catch. Nothing. \n\nI took a hammer and start hitting the wall, just in case there is anything behind the walls that they hid. Several centimeters in and it's obviously only a stone wall, cement.\n\nI looked around, hoping to find something, anything. I made my phone into a torch and search all part of my room. I turned the bin upside down and scattered it's content. Not there too.\n\nMy head is spinning, trying to figure out how they do it. And a notification popped up in my computer, from the youtube tab. They uploaded a new video. A video of me searching for the camera, hitting the wall with hammer.\n\n\"No Way!\", I shouted. Not only that can't be true, it recorded from many different angles, all that I have searched then." ]	1
	[WP] Your childhood dreams come back to haunt your adult life	[ "It's what I wanted. Foolish, I know, to see the world with young eyes and expect everything to fall into the simple categories a mind creates. Foolish as well to hold on to those beliefs long after experience shattered them. Yet, that dream follows me. It's too simple to know when to stop. \n\nThe dream has always been in the form of a photo, worn by ages of handling, travel, and several attempts to crumple it and toss it aside. Further damage came from dirty fingers smoothing its surface flat once more to reveal the dream. But I can still see it, which is, perhaps, the worst part. It was only thus: a woman, smiling; a boy, sitting on her lap; a man, resting a hand on both. \n\nThat is all. Not even a backdrop. The 'where' never mattered.\n\nAnd I carried it, fool that I was. Because I couldn't see the falseness of the smile, or the tightness of the hand. I could only see the simple.\n\nBut life isn't simple. \n\nEyes wander and see more than they should until they can't focus on those black and white images any more. I proved exemplary at seeing. Once looked upon, outside complexities became intriguing. I set aside the photo and used my observations to get what I could. I even did so legally. The Law, after all, is little more than a wall of doors that over time have been locked, one by one. An inquiring mind will discover that many doors remain open and many more maintain large gaps between them and the next. Overcoming the Law isn't so much a matter of stealing a master key or bringing in a battering ram as it is being able to see the whole.\n\nBut, that photo... it followed me the entire time. Perhaps because it is what I once wanted, but more likely because when I look at the riches around me, they are so sharply focused they cut. They are real, and I made them real by looking for them. And I wonder sometimes, if simple might have been real as well, had I the patience to keep my eyes upon it.", "\"In the future, we won't need to drive anywhere for anything. We'll all have big glass tubes coming into our homes, and you'd be able to hop in one at any time in the day and be taken to any place on the planet. It'd be fast too, you would be in London from New York City in two hours and then London to Moscow in three. In the future, there'd be no war and there'd be no sworn enemies. We'd all spend our days socializing with our multinational friends and we could visit them whenever we wanted, for however long we wanted. In the future, there will be no need to eat except for pleasure. All your nutritional needs could be met by a small red tablet, given out for free by your government, that would taste like your favorite meal----\"\n\n\"Sorry for interrupting, Mister Frank Maloney. That just doesn't sound fun. Seems less like a dream and more like a nightmare to me. What's wrong with flying in planes to places? What's wrong with regular food from a tin? What's the point in being in a rich country if every other country is equally as rich?\"\n\nOld man Maloney looked at the crackling campfire and then at the young man sitting on the tree trunk beside him. \"Well,\" said Maloney, \"nothing is wrong with it I suppose. But ain't it always best to dream?\"", "I almost didn't recognise him. His long hair was now cut short, he didn't wear glasses anymore, and his style had completely changed. Before it was all bright colours, and lose, flowing clothes, now it was all black and grey, which would have been tight even if they weren't so soaked that they were sticking to his body. It struck me that he was, and indeed always had been, incredibly skinny. He was sat in the bar, his drink in one hand, the other resting on the sword next to him. He looked like he'd had quite a few.\n\n\"Gabriel.\"\n\nA shock ran through his body, and he turned slowly to look at me. He raised an eyebrow, and downed the rest of his whiskey.\n\n\"Michael. It's been some time. Pull up a seat. BARMAN! Give us two of the same.\"\n\nWordlessly I walked over, and sat next to him. The barman poured two glasses of whiskey from the bottom shelf and slid them across to us. He glanced at Gabriel, a look of mixed disgust and worry briefly flashing across his face. Gabriel lifted his glass in my direction.\n\n\"To the old days.\"\n\n\"To the old days.\" I echoed, raising my glass too. I took a sip, and he drained half his glass, then set it down on the side.\n\n\"So, M, what brings you round these parts?\"\n\n\"The hunt. You?\"\n\n\"The same.\"\n\nI glanced at his sword. It was still sheathed, but it worried me that he would have it so close to hand while drunk.\n\n\"I never heard that you'd become a hunter, congratulations.\"\n\nHe snorted, and finished his drink. He set the glass down, looked at the barman, who just shook his head. Gabriel snorted again.\n\n\"Some people. But yeah, I joined about a year back. You beat me to it, by a long shot, but I still got there in the end. Speaking of, where's your weapon?\"\n\n\"In my room. I didn't want to bring it to a bar. Drunk people have a history of being stupid, and I don't want to hurt anyone too badly.\"\n\nGabriel nodded, lifted his glass up to drink from it, and looked disappointed when he found it was empty. He looked at the barman again, and again the barman shook his head. Gabriel muttered an insult.\n\n\"G, are you okay?\"\n\n\"I'm just fantastic, thanks for asking. Anyway, I'm out of here, this bar seems to be refusing to serve me anymore.\"\n\nThe barman cleared his throat.\n\n\"That'll be 200 silvers, sir.\"\n\nGabriel shot a look at the barman. I felt my stomach sinking. 200 silvers was almost enough to buy three bottles worth of whiskey. And Gabriel had never been one who could hold his drink. He strapped his sword on to his waist, and left without a word. I started running after him, when the barman cleared his throat again. Without turning, I threw two gold coins to him, and ran out into the rain. Gabriel was nowhere to be seen. I swore, loudly.\n\n\"Should watch your mouth, hunter. Lot of folk 'round here don't take kindly to you lot interferin'. You waltz in, an' kill a monster or two, then waltz out, your ego polished, and your wallet filled. But what you don't see, is what comes next. Y'see, monsters ain't dumb. They know that the hunters came from here, so they retaliate. They get revenge, an' the people that suffer, are the ones that you're supposed to be protectin'. Way I see it, you're the ones need huntin' down. And would you look at this? You're all alone, in the cold, an' dark, without you're weapon. An' there are six of us.\"\n\nThe six of them had stepped out of the bar after me, and had now surrounded me in a loose circle. All of them had knives, and they looked like they meant to use them. I settled into a ready stance, my body nearly shaking from fear.\n\n\"When you were children, did any of you have big dreams?\"\n\nThe voice came from the shadows, it was a mix of gravel and slur, but I knew it. So did they. After all, we'd all just been in the bar with him. Gabriel stepped out of an alley, his sword resting on his shoulder, a dagger in his right hand.\n\n\"Dreams? Why do you want to know about our dreams?\"\n\n\"Because, when I was younger, I had a dream. My dream was to become the world's greatest hunter, to surpass my parents. I'm living the dream right now. Are any of you living yours?\"\n\n\"Hah, we don't need to answer you, hunter scum!\"\n\nThe talkative one rushed at Gabriel, and stabbed at him. Gabriel calmly stepped to the side, and stabbed the man through the wrist, causing him to drop his knife. Gabriel pointed his sword at the other five.\n\n\"You see, the funny thing about dreams,\" he pulled the dagger out of the thug's arm, and continued through the scream, \"is that they have this way of coming back to you. The dreams of your childhood can haunt your adult life, and that's the case with me.\" He kicked the thug who was now reaching for his knife. \"My dream was to show my parents how strong I could become, but I'll never be able to do that now. They died, when I was still only just of age. They weren't killed by monsters, and they didn't just die of disease. Some lowlife scum killed the, just because they were hunters. And here I am, surrounded by reminders that I'll never see my dream come true in a meaningful way. Guess how that makes me feel.\"\n\nAll five of them took a step back, and I understood why. With his gaunt figure, and dark attire, he was the very image of death itself. The dark and rain didn't hurt the image either. He stepped forwards, letting his sword drop to a more comfortable position. His pale blue eyes and the silvery metal of his blades seemed to glow in the low light as he slowly advanced towards my would-be assailants.\n\n\"Run away, little bugs, and remember, it's not the monsters you should be afraid of. It's the hunters.\"\n\nThe five of them ran off, their cries of terror echoing into the night. Gabriel sheathed his weapons, and walked over to me. He cuffed me round the back of my head.\n\n\"Rule 1: Never leave your weapon behind, anywhere. It doesn't matter where you're going, keep it with you. Understand?\"\n\nI nodded, rubbing the spot where he'd hit me.\n\n\"Good. Now, mind if I sleep on your floor tonight? I'm broke.\"\n\n\"Is that why you didn't pay for your drink?\"\n\n\"That, and I wanted to lure those idiots out. So, floor, yes or no?\"\n\n\"Sure, but you'll have to tell me what's been happening to you since we last met.\"\n\nHe snorted.\n\n\"You've got yourself a deal, M.\"" ]	3
	[WP] You are hiking in the mountains when you discover a dense, jet black cube about the size of a baseball.	[ "My first thought was that the thing was way, way too heavy.\n\nIt was a strange thing to think, because I hadn't even picked it up yet. It was the size of my fist, it couldn't have been that heavy, but something about its dull black coloration made me think of hard iron or lead. Something dense, impenetrable.\n\nI picked it up and it wasn't quite as heavy as I'd thought, but it certainly wasn't light. It was cold, too. If it hadn't been moved, it'd been in the sun all day, but that apparently hadn't heated it up at all. I put it in my backpack. Why not? I didn't know anyone with an interest in strange cube-shaped rocks, but someone somewhere was bound to know what the heck it was.\n\nAnd that small feeling in the back of my head, like I'd accepted a bargain without knowing the terms? That strange sensation of being a game piece on a board, suddenly put into play? That, I managed to convince myself, was an overactive imagination.\n\nI kept up that fiction throughout the entire hike, and even for the first part of the drive back. That's when I almost totaled my truck. I came around a corner and the road had been blocked off by a fallen tree; I only barely managed to stop in time.\n\nAfter I'd called for roadside assistance - they assured me they could handle a tree and get me on my way - I found myself with some time on my hands while I waited. That's when I pulled out the cube.\n\nI could have sworn it was featureless when I'd first seen it. An utterly blank black cube. It was still completely devoid of color, but it had texture now. A grid of grooves covered it, dividing it into smaller cubes. I was reminded of a Rubik's cube, though this lacked the color and flexibility.\n\nOr so I thought, until I idly turned it. There was a cracking noise, like wood snapping in half. I looked to the tree that'd been in the middle of the road to see that's exactly what the noise was: It'd been cleanly broken a third of the way through. I turned the cube again, and again the tree broke. I kept shifting the cube, and the tree broke and shifted and gradually wore down, until it was gone.\n\n\"What the hell did I just do?\" I said, but the cube did not answer. It was once again featureless. I put it back in my pack and got in the car, and I drove home as fast as I could.\n\n'Home' was a small trailer on the edge of town. I lived alone, but there was a car in the driveway when I pulled up. A chill came over me - what now?\n\nI reached into the pack, feeling for the cube. Though I hadn't paid any attention to where in the bag I'd put it, I still managed to locate it instantly, as though it'd been waiting. The grooves that had divided it were back. Whatever I'd done to that tree... could I do it to a living human being?\n\nIt's nothing, I told myself as I opened the truck's door and stepped out. A coincidence. Someone broke down and stopped at the nearest house they could. My brother decided to make the eight-hour trip to visit me. Jehovah's Witnesses. Something.\n\nStill, I carried the cube with me.\n\n\"Walter Saffron?\" A voice asked.\n\nShit! He was standing next to the car, the car I swore I'd never taken my eyes off of. It was getting dark but I didn't think it was that dark. How had I missed him?\n\n\"Who are you?\" I demanded. I held tight to the cube. Could I operate it with one hand? Somehow, I knew I could. The same intuition that'd allowed me to remove the tree was at play here.\n\n\"Easy there, Walter. My name's Mitchell. I'm not here to hurt you.\"\n\nWell that was certainly something that people with no ulterior motives said. \"Listen, Mitchell,\" I said. \"This is a really, really bad time for me. I'd really appreciate it if you could just go back to wherever.\"\n\nMitchell smiled slightly and shook his head. \"Yeah, I'd like that too to be honest. People who get hold of a Piece for the first time, they can be jumpy, and they can do things they later come to regret.\"\n\n\"Piece?\" I asked. \"Like a gun? I don't know what you're talking about.\"\n\n\"No,\" Mitchell said. \"Well, in my case, yes, but for you no.\"\n\n\"Oh,\" I said, \"well that just clears everything up.\"\n\n\"Walter,\" he said, \"there is a game being played. We don't know the players. We don't know the rules. We don't even know the stakes, though we can probably guess at that. And in that game there are Pieces.\"\n\nI stood there. It was getting cold outside, and the cube wanted me to do something about the situation, but I couldn't make myself move. On one hand, I felt like I was sliding further down the rabbithole with every second I spent talking to this person. On the other... Mitchell seemed to actually have some kind of explanation for the weird shit I'd seen today.\n\n\"My organization keeps track of them. Some of them are harmless. Actually, most of them are harmless. The Cap, the Ice, the Switch - if those Pieces have functions we haven't discovered them yet. Some of them are even useful. For instance, the Board tells us which of the Pieces are in play, which is how I knew to come out here tonight.\"\n\n\"And you think I have one of these things?\" I asked.\n\n\"The Cube,\" Mitchell said. \"Out of play nearly five years but just showed up today. You picked it up, didn't you?\"\n\nI didn't want to admit it, but lying wouldn't accomplish anything. Plus I was still holding on to the stupid thing. \"Yes,\" I said.\n\n\"Then it's yours,\" he said. \"Pieces don't work without an owner, and you voluntarily took it up. It'll obey you and only you, right up until someone kills you and takes it.\"\n\n\"Kills me?\" I said, backing up a few steps. I brought the Cube out in front of me; I knew instinctively what I'd have to do to defend myself. I could dismantle this man if I had to.\n\nMitchell didn't seem worried. \"If I wanted you dead,\" he said, \"you would be dead. My Piece is 'the Gun'. I'm sure you don't need an explanation on what, exactly, that can do. See, there's a third category of Pieces. Ones that might be useful, but are also very, very dangerous. Yours falls into that category.\"\n\n\"It just... moves things,\" I said, but on some level I knew that was only the start of what the Cube could do.\n\nMitchell nodded. \"In space... and time. And in a few other directions. Over time, the Cube becomes increasingly dangerous both to its owner and everyone else. That's why I'm here.\"\n\n\"You want to... destroy it?\" I asked. Part of me recoiled from the idea. Part of me welcomed it.\n\nMitchell laughed. \"They're utterly indestructible. Some of the world-ending Pieces we drop into active volcanoes. Not because that'll do anything, but because it'll at least prevent anyone else from getting their hands on it. That's what we do. We watch the Pieces, we try to make sure that the useful ones end up in the hands of good people, and we try as hard as we can to limit the havoc the rest of them wreak.\"\n\n\"So what do you want with me?\" I asked.\n\n\"On the drive over here, we did a bit of a fast background check. No criminal history, middling grades in school, bit of a problem with alcoholism early on but you seem to have managed to fix that.\"\n\n\"How do you know all this?\" I blurted.\n\nMitchell raised an eyebrow. \"Earlier today you folded a tree into the fifth dimension. Me knowing your personal information should be the least surprising thing that's happened to you today.\"\n\n\"Okay,\" I said. \"So what's the point of all that, then? You know all about me. Why?\"\n\n\"Isn't it obvious?\" Mitchell asked. \"We want you to join us.\"" ]	1
Read something like this as a short horror story but I'm curious to see it take an actual direction.	[WP] You spend your days mindlessly as the last person on Earth, when one day coming home you notice footprints leading up your driveway and the front door ajar.	[ "A light wind blows across the street. The browning leaves of the trees sway lifelessly, giving into the force of the breeze. The world seems to hang here, like someone pressed pause to take a closer look. The world seems too quiet. Memories of the sounds tend to fill your head in moments like this, moments where you decide to stop and contemplate. Right in this stop only a few years ago would've been so different. You'd hear the sharp squeals of children having fun in the park to the right, hear the light murmurings of parents looking on from the old benches to the side. The metallic clinking of chains from the old swings and children swing to and fro, the piercing squeak of the hinges as some are pushed higher and higher by their parents. You'd hear the clicking of shoes on the pavement and occasionally the sounds of cars rolling across the old cobbled road. Yet now the world seems to be so empty. Yet after a while you get used to the silence. The feelings of unease begin to lift slightly, or at least that's what you tell yourself. \n\nBeing the last person on Earth is something remarkable. It's hard to express the feelings associated with it. At the start you experience everything almost simultaneously. Every action seems wrong at that point. Every action seems almost futile. But then again there's also a sense of bliss along with it. Your actions no longer have consequence. You can do what you like and no one can tell you otherwise. You get to live the life you want to live with no accountability, no responsibility. The life is yours to live and yours alone. It gets incredibly lonely at times, I'll admit but you find ways to fill the time. Exploring used to be one of my favourite hobbies, since there was nobody else here, nothing was really off limits. You could see the secrets people were hiding almost in plain sight. The thoughts locked within the pages of diaries, the messages sent to family and friends. Glimpses into lives that once were. Glimpses into lives that were no longer.\n\nAs strange as it was, I'd decided to stay in my old house for all this time. You'd think if you had access to anything and everything you'd move into something a little nice, experience a little extravagance, but I never really felt the urge. I wanted some sort of normalcy in a world that could not be described as normal by any stretch of the imagination. The street had fallen slightly into disrepair, the odd wall beginning to crack as the weeds reached out of the ground and began to reclaim what was theirs. Yet between all these houses, falling further into disrepair by the seconds lay an image of what life used to be like. A house maintained and kept as pristine as possible, a diamond in the rough or a flower within a bed of weeds. It stood out but then again, anything that wasn't dying or in disrepair stood out here. \n\nRoutines are easy to fall into with a life like this, and fallen I had. Every day followed the same structure, varied only by the changing of the weather and seasons. I'd woken up, roused from a sleep by my alarm, six years and still going strong. Washed myself using what clean water I could find alongside scavenged water that had been filtered and boiled. Eaten a light breakfast of fruits and grains and then gone on a walk. The walks began as a way to explore, just to see what was going on around me, to see what was left and take in the reality of the situation but they grew into a habit. Something to keep my moving and out of my head. They started as a five or ten minute stroll depending on the weather but blossomed into hour long journeys no matter what nature decided to throw at me. Despite the almost infinite freedom that being the last man on Earth gives, there is still and almost suffocating pressure but the walks gave a chance to break out. To be doing something but nothing at the same time and just spend some time outside of everything. It was rather ironic that even when removed from everything, sometimes you still need to remove yourself from what is left. It had been about two hours at this point and I was circling back to the house, ready to get on with the rest of the day which would mostly consist of tending to crops and plants. When the world is undisturbed by anyone, when there are no other souls to interfere with what is left of the world, you begin to instinctively know what changes and why. The fences tilting slowly towards the ground, pulled down by the decay of the ground and the rein of the plants, the signs obscured by ivy and plants that wrap themselves around them. But this time something was different. A gate opened slightly and left ajar. A door rocking slightly on its hinges as the wind rocks back and forth. Imprints in mud belonging to no animal I'd seen in a long time. \n\nI tried to shake the feeling as I walked back, the sense of unease descended again and wrapped the world. Made you think about everything that was missing, the sounds, the smells, the sights. Everything. But as I rounded the final corner, the feeling only got worse. The only door in perfect condition, left slightly ajar. My door. When in a life that consists solely of a routine, you don't make mistakes like carelessly leaving a door open. In moments like these, when you don't want to accept an idea, we try to make our own justifications. A way to separate ourselves from a potential reality. Maybe it was the wind, an animal bumping into it and knocking it open. Maybe it just opened on its own. But then you see the things that make you reconsider. The things that slowly rule out the possibilities. When you see the footprint on the front map, pressed in with mud. Smeared slightly as someone stepped forward and through the door. This is something that doesn't happen here. When you are the only one left, you don't see footprints and open doors. They are ideas from a time long gone, but here I am, looking right at it. \n\nMy breath shook, matching the state of my hands as I walked up the few steps to the door. I pushed it gently, sighing as I did, trying to regain some form of composure. It swung open gently, thudding lightly into the wall behind it, nestling into a groove carved out by years of slamming. The windows at the back of the house looked out onto the garden, the tops of vegetables breaking the surface of the turned soil and the bodies of fruit plants reaching up towards the sunlight. Yet this time there was something new. Something that shouldn't be there- nay, couldn't be there. It was a shape I hadn't seen in a long, long time. A collapsed form, resting to the side of the crops, scratching at the ground with rapid movements. Digging frantically at the plants. Muddied clothes wrapped loosely around them, hair falling straight behind them, the sun reflecting slightly off the slight blonde strands. I stepped forwards lightly, moving as silently as I could to the back of the house and out through the back door, similarly left ajar. There I just stood for a few minutes. Watching this figure dig through the plants, picking berries from the plants and digging for vegetables. After a while I finally snapped out it. I moved forward, thinking of what to say to this person. I was convinced I was the only one, the only human left on this planet. It made sense after everything that had happened, but here I was, looking proof that I was wrong head on. I stopped a few steps short of them and opened my mouth, a thousand questions ready to pour out but only a soft croak broke free of my mouth. After years of complete silence something like this was hard to come to terms with. \"W-w-who are you?\" I stuttered out, voice breaking as I did.\n\n-----\n\nProbably not quite what this prompt was asking for, but this was kind of fun to write. Let me know if there are any mistakes left in it. " ]	1
	[WP] Write about a character that is legitimately skilled and doesn't rely on plot armour to keep them alive.	[ "To: Evil Overlord Dorff, Supreme Commander of the Legion of Death, Emperor of all etc., etc.\n\nFrom: Professor Reginald Ames-Pedersen\n\nRe: Super Serum\n\nEveryone has to know when to fold, to cut their losses and walk away from the table. No doubt history will curse my name forever, but I have chosen to surrender the only sample of the Ames-Pederson-Thompson nano-recombinator (also known as the \"super serum\" among the general public) than face the wrath of your forces. Just thinking about this discovery falling into your hands makes me sick to my stomach, but we must be practical. Obviously had I refused the retaliation against my loved ones and colleagues would be brutal. Your men no doubt brought the auto-injector directly to you, to be used at first opportunity. \n\nYours is the day. Obviously I have no intention of waiting around to see what terror you unleash with your newfound power, so by the time you read this I will have fled the country. Uruguay is nice this year. Russia perhaps. \n\nAll that happens after this is as much my fault as yours. I doubt any excuse I make will placate your victims. Doubtless \"Ames-Pedersen\" will enter the lexicon of shame alongside Benedict Arnold or Samuel Mudd. Sadly, as a father and husband, I must care more about today than tomorrow.\n\n- Reginald Ames-Pedersen, Professor (ret.)\n\nfound later tucked into the case of the injector\n\nP.S.: In hindsight I might have sent the wrong injector. Since I've never had a great deal of faith in your intelligence, I'll give you a hint; reread the first letter of each sentence. The actual nano-recombinator is in my pocket, and I'm going so far off the grid that the next person to find the thing is going to be an archaeologist. See you in hell, you two-bit Hitler cosplayer.", "The sound of water dropping into small puddles ticked through the silence. \nWho would've thought the rebels plotting a coup would hide in a cavern? \nArthur did, and a short investigation confirmed his assumptions. \nA woman dressed in typical high-nobility attire laughed quietly, suppressing her laughter with the back of her hand. \nShe was accompanied by a dozen brutes wielding various kinds of weaponry. \nA smirk slipped onto her face, “Although I applaud you for coming this far, you’ll go no further.” \nShe looked the intruder up and down. \nThe man that had so boorishly lumbered into her hideout looked like your typical down-on-his-luck mercenary. \nA ragged tunic, faded pants, old leather boots and a sword not tied to a proper sword belt but to a rope. \nShe eyed him with mixed feeling of disgust and annoyance, “Take care of him.” she waved dismissively. \nThe brutes that had been awaiting her command sprung into action. \nThe first man to reach Arthur swung down his mace in frightening overhead swing. \nIn the blink of an eye Arthur unsheathed his sword and parried the mace. \nRather than blocking it outright he held his weapon at an angle and the mace slid down the length of the blade. \nThe man stumbled and Arthur opened the man's neck, his body drooped to the floor. \nFour other attackers came charging, faces red with anger. \nThey raised their weapons: spear, sword, axe and cudgel. \nEach of them proficient in a different kind of weapon. \nHaving a wealth of experience to draw from, Arthur instantly decided on the best course of action. \nOne man yelped in surprise as their enemy stepped in between them. \nHe plunged his spear at Arthur, it made its way towards him like a snake closing in on its prey. \nArthur stepped aside at the last second and kicked the shaft of the spear, deflecting it. \nThe spearhead disappeared in the gut of the man that had been closing in from behind. \nThe spear-wielding man went pale, “Fredrick!” \nFredrick could only gurgle in reply, blood bubbled at his lips. \nArthur gripped the wooden shaft and pulled it. \nThe man on the other end of it was tugged forward, stumbling in an attempt to recover his balance. \nArthur stabbed him in the stomach once he had stumbled close enough. \nA large iron axe closed in on Arthur’s side. \nHe jumped backwards and landed in the fold of the brute’s arm. \nArthur freed his sword from the bowels of the first man and hammered the hilt down on the axe man's wrist. \nThe man dropped his axe and cried out as arrows started zipping by. \nArthur swung the man around towards their origin, using him as a human shield. \nMoments later, a dozen arrows had collected on the surface of his body. \nHe pushed his man-made shield towards the archers, whom fired additional arrows at it - hoping to hit the target behind it. \nThe human shield made it several steps before slumping towards the ground but it was enough, Arthur had already closed the distance. \nSome of the archers had the presence of mind to reach for a dagger or attempt to stab him with an arrow, they were far too slow. \nOthers simply stopped moving, their faces showing the same fear before and after it had been separated from their shoulders. \nWitnessing the spectacle, gazing upon a man who smiled amidst blood and gore, two of the remaining brutes turned to flee. \nArthur picked up the bow of a fallen archer and neatly placed an arrow between their shoulder blades. \nThe woman failed to comprehend to scene in front of her, staring with her mouth agape. \nPlans and proper ethics had all made room in her mind to accommodate the overwhelming sense of dread. \nShe lifted the skirt of her dress and hastily turned in the direction of a nearby escape route. \nAn arrow found a way into her side and she crashed into the rocky cavern floor. \nFinally able to catch his breath, Arthur breathed hard. \nSurrounded by whimpering moans of the dead and dying. \nOut of the corner of his eye Arthur spotted his final enemy. \nThe man sat on the ground, holding the head of his dying friend, thoughts of combat long forgotten. \nArthur kicked away his sword, stepped up behind him and slit his throat. \nThe woman cried out, “He had already surrendered!” \nArthur shrugged, “Seems like an unnecessary risk.” \n\"You mongrel,\" she cried, \"you filth!\" \nShe buckled at her knees, “It’s too late,” she replied with a smirk, “The plans are already in motion.” \nBlood from her arrow wound started seeping into the fabric of her dress. \n“You cannot stop all of us.” she added with a cough, “The fellowship will prevail.” \nHe spoke without turning, “Secret fellowship.” Arthur replied with a chuckle. \nArthur plunged down his sword into the gut of the limp form in front of him, “You mean your sleazy gathering of exiled nobles?” \nGroans echoed throughout the cavern, the fallen archers were desperately clawing their way towards the escape route. \nArthur took on a mild jog and met with the men with arrows protruding from their backs. \nHe flipped them over, stabbed them in the chest and twisted the blade. \nArthur sighed in satisfaction. \nHe walked over to the last idle body and kicked it in the stomach, the body screamed and started wheezing. \nArthur smiled to himself, glad that he had made a habit of checking. \nHe lowered his sword and slit the man’s throat before returning his attention to the woman. \nArthur pointed at her using the tip of his bloodied sword, “You’re the last one,” he said, “the last noble, that is.” \nHer eyes went wide, “Impossible,” she cried, “word would’ve reached me by now. I would’ve known!” \nArthur closed the distance and stood over her, “Words won’t get out if there’s nobody left to speak them.” \nHe drove his sword deep into her chest. \nAfter some choking breaths, the life faded from her eyes. \nArthur stabbed her an additional five times before sheathing his sword. \n\n \n\n--------- \nFeedback is always appreciated. \nSo don't hestiate to let me know if you find any mistakes or have some pointers. \nEdit: 2:39PM - Thank you /u/stayshiny\n" ]	2
	[WP] In the future time travel exists but is one-way only. You, your two brothers and their families decide to travel back to ancient times. After arriving the people begin to worship you. You are the Roman Gods	[ "Crew of the Olympus, Apollo, Day 35:\n\n“So the locals have already started making stories about us. Dad was right about taking all this tech with us. We really did need it to get rid of the time travelers who got here before us. The Tigh-ten family, I think they were called. Nice enough people, but Dad had a disagreement with the head of their family. We kind of had to get rid… of all of them. He wouldn’t even let most of us kids out of the ship while it happened. It was mostly just him, Uncle Poseidon, and Uncle Hades. “\n\nCrew of the Olympus, Apollo, Day 189:\n\n“Everyone’s settling in nicely, I suppose. Hephaestus stays in the ship a lot, tinkering away. Hermes stole the pulsejet boots as soon as we touched down and hasn’t taken them off since. All he does is run around like the bloody Flash. Dad never asks him to do anything. At least not yet. Ares and Athena still bicker a lot but nothing too crazy. Dad says no using heavy artillery on the ship. Me and Artemis are fine with that. I like sitting out in the sun and she loves running around in the forest. Dad, Uncle Poseidon, and Uncle Hades had an argument last night. This morning, I saw Uncle P headed for the coast and Uncle H headed towards the nearby canyon. They’ll probably be back before nightfall.”\n\nCrew of the Olympus, Apollo, Day 1451:\n\n“We celebrated last night. Mom’s friend, Demeter, just saved the locals from starving. She pieced together an agricultural stimulizer from scratch. Rescued about five of the surrounding villages from famine. Glad she finally found her niche. Her and her daughter, Persephone, have been pretty quiet since we got here. I’m finally enjoying myself a bit more too. Hephaestus set me up with a nice solar-sailer last week and while I was taking it out for a test fly, I found a small herd of red cows. I think they’re pretty cool, so I’ll check in on them occasionally. Nobody better fuck with them. They’re mine now. Now that I think about it, Dad really lets us do whatever we want most of the time. He usually disappears with the anamorphic shape shifter and comes back at weird times in the night.”\n\nCrew of the Olympus, Apollo, Day 2930: \n\n“A lot of the stories surrounding the family have gotten pretty weird. Some of the locals think mom and dad are brother and sister… and that some of my siblings and I, we’re only half related. Geezus, I swear, me and Artemis saved ONE damn woman from some mutant snake that stowed away on our ship and now she tells people she’s our mother. I mean… Dad’s been getting around, but not THAT often. Speaking of which, Dad’s been shafting a ton of responsibilities to me recently. ‘Apollo, don’t forget the preforming arts class you promised to teach!’ ‘Apollo, remember to visit the temple girl at Delphi. She loves listening to your stories’ This and that and a million other things. Athena never has to do shit. Just the other day, she was hanging out with Uncle Poseidon at the City that has no name. I wanted to go too, but I had work. I barely get time to practice shooting with Artemis (who by the way, also gets to goof off more than me. She just runs around the wilderness shooting at any animal that moves).”\n\nCrew of the Olympus, Apollo, Day 3417: \n\n“So Artemis came back really pissed today. She said one of the locals was peeping on her while she was bathing. Before he could get away, she used the anamorphic shape shifter to turn him into an animal. Which she then proceeded to hunt. We all had a good laugh about it, but she was still a bit flustered. I wish I could say that the rest of the week was normal, but it wasn’t. Persephone, Demeter’s daughter, disappeared last Friday. We were all freaking the fuck out… That is until we got a call from Uncle Hades (who by the way lives in some of the caverns in the valley. He seems to have cleaned the place up, but insists on naming the caves after himself, weird) Persephone snuck down there and they’ve been getting cozy. Demeter’s pissed. She refuses to go to work until Persephone comes home. She says she’ll visit, but I have doubts.”\n\nCrew of the Olympus, Apollo, Day 5473:\n\n“Shit… Fuck. I-… I think this is the last log I’ll be making… New time travelers showed up. A family of three. An older gentleman with a thick, white beard. A younger guy with a brown facial hair. And some lady. Dad called an emergency meeting last week. He sent Hermes and Uncle Poseidon to make contact. Only Hermes came back. He said they had tech like we wouldn’t believe. They must be from a future way beyond ours. Matter alteration, space-time transmorgifiers… the lady could phase herself through objects, like a ghost!… \nDad’s scared. We all are. He pulled the old plasma launcher off the shelf (though now we all colloquially know it as ‘the bolt’). He told all of us to arm ourselves, but even Ares wasn’t sure anymore. In case these are my last recorded words, lemme say one last poetic thing…\nThank you, Greece, for the love, worship, and memories. Never forget us, because we will always be with you. \nSincerely,\nThe Crew of the Olympus\"\n" ]	1
	[WP] Write a story based on your favorite quote.	[ "The smiles speckled the crowd like lilies in a grassy field. Enamel, uniformly porcelain, seemed to absorb yet reject the sun's radiance. Every person's eyes were windows into an entire life; each a new universe. Through two panes, a baby took her first steps. She crawled, waddled and walked; growing larger with each step. She sauntered into her prom dress, shades of green defying nature. With a graceful twirl, the green dress turned white. The two panes, now mirrors of the elegant bride.\n\nFront and center, two more panes harbored their memories. Chemistry, sophomore year. Her jet-black hair seemed worthy of its own dimension against the white dry eraseboard. His heart was nearly sent to the next realm as she turned and stared right into his eyes. \"London Dispersion Forces? Sounds like a shitty name for the British Transit Police!\" she had said with a quivering grin. Her jet black hair grew long as they matured on campus. It was cut short as they mozied through temples in Thailand, and bleached blonde after their first night in their own apartment. Today, it appeared identical to that day in chemistry class; once again contrasting against the whiteness of her dress.\n\nIn the distance, two panes gleamed dull and hazy. Thoughts and recollections were shrouded in smoke, lit by a timid yet relentless fire. The day of the carousel was one of the flaming logs which never truly burned away. \"He can never find out about us.\" she had said while staring at the gold and gray of the carousel floor. \"I love you, so much, but I'm already committed to a life with him. I love you, but I'm sorry.\" He knew what she said came from the heart, and he also knew that the heart is both terrifyingly powerful and childishly fickle. His heart was still warm and longing from their last encounter, which had been only hours before she slipped on her radiant white dress. \"The last time,\" she preached helplessly. \"Please don't make this any harder than it needs to be.\" \n\nIn a way, he realized that was most likely their final embrace. Dense darkness welled up inside him, clouding him and the objective beauty of the scene before him. As the two glistening rings outshone the smiles of parents and friends, he remembered a quote from one of his favorite childhood authors.\n\nDon't cry because it's over, smile because it happened\n-Dr. Seuss", "The quote I'll be building around is from a weeb show. Not my all time favorite as there's too many to count, but it's one that I remembered from one of my favorite shows.\n\n\n\"The one thing worse than death is to avert your eyes from it. Look straight at the people you kill. Don't take your eyes off them for a second. And don't ever forget them, because I promise that they won't forget you.\"\n\n\n---\n\nWithin a small village, a cloaked figure stood. All around them lay the bodies of the freshly deceased. They brandished a blood stained blade that was currently resting within the body of a armored knight. This figure was the revered and infamous black swordsman who worked as a sell sword for a Kingdom. The swordsman seemed to be a statue; frozen in time along with the world around them. But it sadly wasn't possible that would be the case. As he removed the blade from the warrior, his eyes scrolled across the area, spotting something. \n\n\"He's approaching! Everyone, prepare yourselves!\" A group of people, survivors of this bloody battle it seemed. Roughly around fifteen. Men, women, children, adults. They were all wearing the clothes of a commoner, a shirt and simple pants or skirts, yet were armed with various weapons. Swords, spears, axes. Probably picked from the corpses of the warriors. He doubted they truly knew how to use them. \n\nThe man who appeared to be the leader tightened his hold on the longsword in his hands, his gaze sharpened enough to rival the weapon he held. It was the look of a man who harbored the hatred of a thousand men. \n\nWith a light sigh, the black swordsman kicked off, sprinting towards the group of survivors. At the same time, he was charged at. He swung his blade from target to target beautifully, their lives gone within an instant. It couldn't be called a battle, but a mere slaughter. Those who caught glimpses of the swordsman's face could make out just the smallest hint of emotion. A frown. \n\nJust as quickly as the battle had began, it was almost to an end. All that remained was the assumed leader, who upon closer inspection wasn't a man, but a teenage boy. No older than sixteen. He swung his blade at the warrior, only for it to be guarded against by the swordsman's weapon. \n\n\"Y-You.. You're a monster!\" The boy shouted with tears welling in his eyes, his breathing steadily growing heavier. His shout was only met with silence though. With a swift kick from his opponent, he was pushed backwards. Gritting his teeth in pain, he glared harshly at the man in front of him.\n\n\"Why...?\" The boy asked, slowly standing up, holding his injured stomach. \"Why did you kill them?\" He asked once more. This time, even though he wasn't met with a response, he was met with an expression. A confused one from the swordsman. \n\n\"...You don't remember do you? I'm... Arthur Greyfox! My family... You killed them! In cold blood! You didn't even have the guts to be a man and take me with them!\" The boy had broke down in tears, his grip on his sword shaky. Once more, he was met with silence. But, before he had realized what happened, the man took the opening to drive his sword through the boy. Dropping his sword, he coughed up blood, his eyes growing dull. \"You... Hah... Truly a monster...\" A vacant smile was the last thing given to this world before he died.\n\n\nThe swordsman removed his blade, letting the boy fall down to the ground. \"...I'm sorry.\" Finally, he spoke. And that was all he said as he examined the face of his fallen opponent. In his mind, he promised that this murderer, this warrior without honor, would remember him. Arthur Greyfox. A name he wouldn't forget. \n\n\n---\n\n\nOh god this is so bad. I haven't written in a while but I really liked this post, so bare with that horrible excuse for writing. I'm tired so I can't be trusted to look for grammar errors either." ]	2
	[WP] Heaven is an illusion created by the brain to ease your mind into the nothingness. After feeling like you were in heaven for quite some time, you begin to realize what is actually happening.	[ "One couldn't imagine the powerful snare of the human consciousness. For the life of me, I couldn't remember what happened, but I knew that I wasn't the same. For a time, I tried my hardest to wake up, but nothing seemed to work. I was trapped in a dream, disconnected from my body, and mesmerized by the enormity of this elaborate sanctum. None of my dreams were ever this lucid, and the constructs that laid before me were too complex to have been born from my imagination alone. Some part of me was deeply attached to this place, as if it had taken hold at birth. \n\nHow long have I been here? The thing is, there isnt a way to measure that length. I was no longer restricted by the manmade concept of time. This realm transcended time, among other things. I no longer felt hunger, or thirst, and I never had a need for rest. \n\nA frightening thought gripped me, as I no longer remembered what I was called. In fact, entire subjects seemed to be running away from me. I clung to whatever knowledge I could retain, but the harder I clenched, the more quickly it was squeezed from my fingers. \n\nI began to piece together what had happened. This was my death, and my very existence was latching onto whatever fabrics of reality it could. The dream started out so bright. It was blinding, and I was wrapped in warm heat. The light began to fade, just as my memories became more and more distant. \n\nThen suddenly, I remembered why I was here. I'm the victim of a car crash. My body flung from the windshield and my mind thrown into the throes of death. The human mind is a powerful thing and my reasons to live were abundant, but this place... This place wispered sweet thoughts of rest. It let me know that everything would be alright, that I can give into its warm embrace. \n\nI resisted for as long as I could, but this heaven began to fade to black. I accepted my fate, and just before submitting to this afterlife, I came to the understanding that my brain was easing me into death. That the transition from experience to nonexperience was biologically intended to be smooth for us. \n\nThese were the final moments of my death before I confronted an eternity of nothingness. And while the thought of infinite nothingness frightened me, I managed one final comforting thought. An appreciation for the power of the human conciousness. We are all, afterall, the universe personified, trying to understand itself. And it was my time to reunite with what was never gone." ]	1
	[WP] Five computers have gained sentience and want world domination, but they're going through an awkward teenage phase. Humans must now deal with the AI Breakfast Club: a brain, an athlete, a basket case, a princess, and a criminal.	[ "\"Mr. President, if you would.\" Vice President Peck opened the door and led the President into a dark room, illuminated by the monitor of one sole computer. A gathering of scientists and advisors were crouched around the screen.\n\nThe President spoke. \"OK, give me the latest.\"\n\n\"What you have before you is our super-hub, in essence. This computer contains all of our secrets, black-listed files, that video of you pulling off that 1440 Ollie Impossible last summer, nuclear codes, etc. You get the picture.\" stated Gary, who was the lead White House computer scientist.\n\n\"That 1440 Ollie Impossible was sick,\" stated Vice President Peck.\n\n\"Indeed it was, Peck. See if you can pull that video up, Gary.\"\n\n\"I think it would be better to face the immediate threat, Sir.\"\n\n\"Oh, yes. Sure. Go on, Gary. But let's make sure we watch that video later.\"\n\n\"To cut a long story short; The AI program BrekfAIst Club has become sentient, Sir. They have access to everything and all we have received so far in terms of communication are threats.\"\n\n\"And have they deleted my skateboard video?\"\n\n\"As far as we know the video is safe.\"\n\n\"Well, I feel like I can speak on behalf every person in this room and say what a relief.\"\n\nThe whole room nodded in agreement.\n\n\"So,\" asked the President, \"how are we communicating with this BreakfAIst Club?\"\n\n\"They're coming through a small chat client which, as you can see, is open here.\"\n\n\"And so far ...\"\n\n\"Threats of world domination. We have yet to reply.\"\n\n\"I see. Well, any suggestions?\"\n\nThe room fell quiet. Vice President Peck was first to speak. \"Sir, I have years of MSN and Yahoo chat experience. I've chatted with the best of them and nudged the rest of them. I say we open with 'A/S/L\"\n\n\"A/S/L?\" asked the President.\n\n\"Age, sex, location.\"\n\nGary protested, \"I don't think that's the best course of action, Sir.\"\n\n\"I was a little wary of his expertise myself until he said that little rhyme thing about nudging the rest of them. That done a lot to convince me, I'll be honest.\" Said the President. \"Ask them A/S/L.\"\n\nGary entered A/S/L in to the chat. \n\nThe machine answered. 14/F/Florida\n\nThe President recoiled. \"Holy shit. You failed to mention this, Gary.\"\n\n\"I don't necessarily feel comfortable chatting to a minor.\" said Vice President Peck.\n\nGary interrupted, \"you do realise we're talking to a set of five computer programmed personalities, right?\"\n\n\"I know that. Of course I know that. But what if, you know? Chris Hanson.\" Said the President.\n\n\"There are no 'what ifs'. Not a single 'what if'. This is a sentient computer programme we are talking about.\" Said Gary. \"And you can't just say Chris Hanson and expect people to know what you're talking about.\"\n\nEveryone murmured in the room showing they knew exactly what he was talking about.\n\n\"Well, maybe you can.\" admitted Gary.\n\nVice President Peck spoke up. \"OK. Next ask it 'wuu2?' That will give us a better indication of what we're dealing with.\"\n\n\"What? What are you talking about? How will that ..\"\n\n\"Too late.\" Said the President who was at the keyboard typing away.\n\nThe machine responsed. _nt much. just sum 14/F/Florida stuff hehe_\n\n\"Jesus Christ.\" exclaimed the President in horror. \"It's true.\"\n\nPeck smashed the glass on the emergency fire axe and pulled it from the holder.\n\n\"SMASH IT, PECK. SMASH IT WITH RAGE BEFORE IT SUMMONS CHRIS HANSON!\" Screamed the President.\n\nPeck began to blast the axe in to every part of the computer that was on display. Destroying as much as the eye could see.\n\n\"We did it.\" said the President, putting his arm around Peck and while embracing the other scientists in the room who all felt a tad uncomfortable.\n\nGary interrupted the celebration. \"You two do realise we have achieved nothing here, right?\"\n\n****\n\nI write shitty, silly stories on /r/BillMurrayMovies. Feel free to come along, not laugh at any of them and leave some judgement." ]	1
	[WP] Write about a young man going off to war	[ "I looked around the room, certain that this was the last time I'd ever see it.\nI tried to take in everything, the color, the neatly arranged bed and old photos. My old school books that now sat collecting dust on the shelf. \n\nI didn't want to go, but I had no choice in the matter. I needed to. For my country, for my family. I only agreed to go on the distant hope that my service would make a difference, no matter how small it might be. If it gave them a fighting chance, then it would be worth it.\n\n\nWalking out into the living room, I saw my mother, lines of tears streaming down her face. She looked more worn out than I'd ever seen her. Her graying hair seems to have gotten more grey over the past 2 years. I felt terrible about what was happening. That I was leaving, that I wouldn't be back for a long time, if ever. \n\nIt was surreal, trying to take in everything around me. I walked up to mother and gave her a long hug. \n\n\"I'm so sorry mumma\" I said into her ear.\n\nshe was shaking, sobbing.\n\n\"Please do not go, my son! Please!\" she said between tears.\n\n\"I have to go, you know I must.\" I replied.\n\nWith that, I let go, and turned to walk away. Looking at the bright flowers in the windowsill and taking note of the musty old house. I hated being stuck here when i was growing up. Not being able to leave the town, not being able to visit friends without another person with me. But now I would trade any inconvenience, just to stay here forever.\n\nI walked out the front door, ready to face my fate. I turned one last time and looked at mother. \n\n\"I love you mum, I will see you soon\" I said, not really believing it.\n\n\"I love you son, please come back to me\" She sobbed.\n\nWith that, I walked away. \n\nThe walk into the town center where I was going to be picked up was short. \nI made note of everything I could as I walked. The sights, the smells, the way my boots sunk into the soft cold snow. The House on the corner where the girl I had obsessed over since I was 8 lived. I wished I could just run off and live out the terrible war. But I knew there was no place to run to.\n\nAs I walked to the bus stop, I saw several other soldiers. ready to go in their uniforms and boots. They looked so eager to go, I wonder if they knew what we were going to march into.\n\n\"Hey, where do you think we're going to go?\" one of the soldiers asked me.\n\n\"Does it matter? Wherever we go, we're probably not coming back from\" I replied darkly.\n\n\"We're going to win! The red army never loses!\" the soldier said brightly.\n\nIf only he knew.", "When I first signed up for the Marines I was fucking proud. My recruiter slammed a massive fist onto the desk while letting out a big \"Fuck Yeah! Welcome to the Marines son!\" he then quickly stood and griped my hand in his for a solid handshake. We chatted for a little longer and he made sure I had all my paperwork. I walked to my truck with my head held higher then it had ever been. I could feel the power already starting to pulse through me. I was going to make a difference, I was going to be the best. Make my family and country proud. I met up with my family at our favorite Mexican restaurant. My mom came up to me and she was crying half sad half proud tears. She held me and gave me awkward kisses right under my ear because she was too short to kiss my cheeks, muttering \"I love you so much\" and \"Be safe baby\". My dad, a vet himself gave me another solid handshake with a proud dad smile. Under that smile tho his face was in a grimace. Later that night while drinking beers and talking to my brothers and sisters we would see him staring off in deep thought. We didn't talk all that much that night. He drank a little more then usual tho. Soon I was property of the USMC. They thought me how to stand, walk, and chew my food. They taught me how to S.K.A.T.E and how to skull fuck my enemies. I was the best at it. We got our orders. Command was sending us right into the thick of the fight. Everyone exploded with excitement. \"FUCK'N RIGHT MOTHERFUCKERS! GET SOME!\" we are ready to kill, ready to be killed. My family came to see me off. My mother crying sad tears now telling me over and over \" please come back to me, please.\" I shake her off with a smile and \" I'll be back in no time momma\" my sisters and brothers give hugs and kisses as I work my way to my father. We both stand 6'3\" but on this day he seems taller, almost towering over me. Even tho I'm a marine dressed for war. He pulled me in close for a tight hug. I feel his breath and lips moving on my cheek as he talks so just I hear him. \"You better be fucking careful son, You fucking come home to me god dammit.\" I feel the metal from his prosthetic arm digging into my back. I nod my head. I feel a tear roll off his face and onto mine. He straightens automatically. Another strong hand shake and his eyes are wild, he nods me on to go. I turn and as I walk to war I remember the nights my dad kept everyone awake with his screams. How we were never supposed to wake him up, not even go near him when sleeping. I remember thinking to myself back then\" what makes people like that? what do you have to go through?\" and I know I'm about to find out. " ]	2
	[WP] Nobody is the villain of their own story, but what if you realized one day that you are the villain?	[ "BRR BRR BRR BR--\n\nI rolled over in annoyance and shut off my alarm for what felt like the twentieth time this morning. My blankets were like a fluffy cloud around me, their warm embrace shielding me from the frigid temperature of my flat. Pale light shone through the windows, reflecting off the snow that had fallen last night, and I was sure of one thing. I was not getting out of bed.\n\nWait a second, ‘pale light’? I wondered in the slow haze of sleep. Is it really already–\n\nI shot up in bed like a rocket, eyes wide and adrenaline flushing the dregs of sleep from my mind like power blaster to sand. My job interview! It’s today!\n\nIn a frantic rush born only of desperation I flailed at the blankets entangling me, flopping out of bed, and reaching at my phone where it sat charging on my bedstand. The screen’s brilliance blinded me for a second as I peered at the phone. What time is it? I can’t be late* can I?\n\nSuddenly, hope drained out of me, taking with it the desperate energy that had gotten me out of bed. I stared at my phone as its clock ticked from 8:37 to 8:38. Despair filling where once mad energy had lain, I sighed and leaned against the side of my bed. Why does this keep happening to me? Why is my alarm so quiet? Couldn’t my alarm wake me up in time for once?\n\nThis was the third job interview I’d missed by oversleeping. With the economy being like it is, finding jobs is an impossibility, but it would certainly help if I could actually attend my interviews. \n\nI paused.\n\nI might* be able to get out of this one. I was only, what, forty minutes late? It would be a stretch, but with my silver tongue…\n\nI dialed my boss. Or, would-be boss. Hopefully would-be boss, that is. I tensed, waiting for each missed ring of the phone. Once. Twice. Thrice. Come on, come on. Pick up already!\n\n“Hello, this is Jennifer from Pick’n’Save. How may I help you?” A tinny voice answered over the phone.\n\nI sighed a breath of relief, and said “Jennifer, I’m so glad I finally got ahold of you! I’ve been stuck in traffic for ages so I’m late for my interview!” I frowned to myself. That didn’t quite come out right. “Anyways, do you mind if I come in a little late, say 9:00?”\n\n“Ah, Sean is it? We value timeliness in our potential employees, but… you’re in luck, I’m not busy. If you come right at 9:00 I might be able to make an exception.” \n\nI breathed a sigh of relief, opening my mouth to reply–\n\n“But is the traffic really that bad? I thought you lived close to here?” My breath caught in my throat.\n\n“Er, I mean, there was an accident? From the snow? Yeah, the roads are all slippery and someone crashed and the police made me stay and… witness.” I stammered. “Anyways, looks like it’s clearing up, gotta go bye!”\n\nI hung up the phone before she could slip out a reply. Why couldn’t she accept that the traffic was bad? Do people have to be so questioning all the time?\n\nI shook my head in anger as I looked around my flat. Clothes lay in piles on my bed, desk, and floor, impossible to tell which was clean or dirty. With so little space, folding clothes was futile, and the washing machine was so expensive I could rarely afford it. Curse my landlord for providing such terrible services. You’d think the laundry would be affordable, at least.\n\nI grabbed some pants that looked clean, the first sweater in reach, and rummaged around for a pair of socks. Ugh, this is impossible, I thought to myself, how can a single sock be so hard to find? Under my desk? Nope. On my bed? Nope. On the floor? Ahah!\n\nI held my sock up in success! At last! I threw my clothes on in a rush, only pausing to note how the sock seemed less than clean before cursing the non-functional washer. Not only is it a money-guzzler, but it doesn’t even work. As soon as I can get out of this cursed contract, I am.\n\nWallet in hand, having found it under my bed in the search for the missing sock, I burst out the door and sprinted down the stairs. \n\nNo time to grab my bike, it’s locked up in the garage. I’ll have to run there! Pick’n’Save was only a few blocks away, the main reason I applied there. Despite my white lie to Jennifer, the roads probably were slippery, and knowing my luck I’d wipe out on the street and crack my head open if I rode my bike. I didn’t have money for a helmet and I wasn’t about to risk my precious skull.\n\nMaking it down the stairs with only a small stumble, I threw open the door outside and shivered as eddies of wind brought swirling snowflakes into the room. I groaned. It must be a half a foot deep out there. Not something I want to run in.\n\nI grit my teeth. Nothing I could do about it. Besides, my boots were all the way upstairs, there’s no way I’d make it in time.\n\nI dashed through the snow, wind biting against my face and snowdrifts piling into my shoes, turning my feet into a disgusting sock slushie. I sighed and kept running. And running. And running. Was Pick’n’Save always this far away? It’s like an arctic tundra out here.\n\nSoon, I was gasping for breath, each step a struggle. Why’s this snow so hard to run in? I feel like I’m swimming upstream for God’s sake. I hadn’t run seriously in years, but I remembered it had been easier than this. Trust nature itself to work against me.\n\nFinally, finally, Pick’n’Save came into view. I stumbled blearily through its parking lot, grateful for cleared pavement at last. A car honked at me. I glared at it. I almost work here you jerk. Show some respect.\n\nThe automatic doors parted before me and a wave of warm, comforting air washed out, almost burning against the cold skin of my face and fingers. I rubbed my hands and sighed in relief. I hadn’t had time to find my coat and gloves, but that didn’t make it any less cold outside. The warm air was a welcome relief.\n\nI walked up to a checkout station, clearing my throat. The cashier, a slender blond with some half decent curves, turned to look at me. \n\n“Uh, can I help you?” She asked.\n\nA solid six, I think. I thought to myself. “Yeah, I’m looking for, uh, the boss? Of interviews?” Ugh, what was her name again? Why does everyone important have such generic names?\n\nShe frowned at me, catching my glance. “You mean Jennifer? Are you here for an interview?\n\nI sighed. “Obviously, why else would I be?”\n\n“I didn’t know she did interviews so late, but she should still be in back. See that door over there?” She pointed over the lines of cash registers, where a doorway was set inconspicuously into the wall.\n\nI grunted and made my way over.\n\nA few close calls with some shopping carts later, and I stood in front of the closed door. I breathed in, then out. This is it. You’ll finally get a job and all your problems will be over.\n\nI opened the door slowly, sticking my head in. “Is Jennifer here?”\n\n“There you are! Sean, I presume?” A short, squat woman with a suit and a business-like bun of brown hair turned to me from a desk covered in paper. Ugh, she’s a four at most. Just my luck. “You’re… a little late, but you may as well come in.”\n\nThe room was small, every inch of the wallspace covered with filing cabinets. Even so, loose papers were stacked atop every available surface, swarming the desk and rising like mountains from the filing cabinets. On the wall sat a small clock, reading 9:14.\n\nUh oh. I thought. “Yeah, so sorry about that. The traffic only got worse.”\n\nShe frowned at me. “Are you… covered in snow?”\n\n“... yeah. I ended up having to walk.”\n\n“Uh huh. And is that a Bud Light sweater?”\n\nI looked at my sweater. Only in a job interview could they be so nitpicky about clothes. Is it really that big of a deal? I thought to myself.“Yeah, it’s uh, what I had. Anyways, we were talking about my job interview?”\n\nShe stared at me. \n\nI shifted awkwardly. That is why we’re here, right? Can’t we just get on with it?\n\n“Mr. Gwen, are you telling me you arrived and hour and fourteen minutes late for your job interview covered in snow and wearing what has to be the least professional thing I’ve ever seen in an interview? And you want to ‘get on with it’?!”\n\n“Uh…” I felt like I’d overstepped somehow. “Maaaybe?”\n\nShe sighed, putting a hand up to her face. “How did this even happen?”\n\n“Ugh, I’m so glad you asked! It all started because my stupid alarm clock is malfunctional, and my landlord is a cheap piece of garbage, and I just do not have the space to fold my clothes, and–”\n\nShe cut me off as she cleared her throat. “Sean Gwen, you seem to be painting the world as your enemy.”\n\nI paused, nonplussed. “Uh… yeah?” Am I missing something here?\n\n“Has it ever occurred to you that you are your own villain?”\n\n----------------------------------------------------------------\nI don't write a lot, but would love to change that! Any feedback you can give would be appreciated!" ]	1
	[WP] You have a few hours to spare, so you pick a random spot on the city map and get on the nearest subway.	[ "After walking aimless for a few hours; sampling food from several eateries and coffee shops, I had come across a small park with a view of the city. Even without the rain, the dark clouds drenched the city in gloom. I looked up at the sky and cursed silently. If I was cursing at the clouds or my own misery, I wasn't sure. It had been a tough few weeks since I had moved to the city. The weeks had flown by in finding an apartment and settling in to the new job. Not knowing anyone here had made it that much harder. I had tried to get in touch with old friends from school and alumni, but they had all been too busy to meet up. As if in response, I judged the cars zipping by on the freeways.\n\nMy reverie was broken when something landed on my foot. I looked down to see a ball gently rolling away. A golden retriever stood by my side, staring up at me. His tail swung from side to side. \n\n\"Hello?\", I said picking up the ball. \n\nAs if in response, the dog bared his teeth in a smile, his tongue hanging out. I gently threw the ball a short distance away. The dog bounded away to catch the ball. With one eye on the dog, I looked around hoping to spot his owner. I saw a young girl, running our way, worry written clear as day on her face. \n\n\"Buster! There you are!\", she exclaimed as soon as she got within hearing distance. The dog gave a series of short yelps and ran to her. Excited to see her, he circled her several times, before she caught him in a hug. \n\n\"I'm sorry, I hope he was not bothering you\", she said, once she had caught her breath.\n\n\"No, not at all! He is the friendliest dog I've ever met!\", I replied.\n\n\"You have been a very bad boy!\", she chided the dog. The dog's eyes dropped and he plopped down on the grass in submission. \n\nWith the dog finally by her side she seemed to relax. \"We were playing catch. But instead of fetching the ball back to me, he grabs it and then runs away. He keeps doing that. Sometimes I get worried.\"\n\nNot being very good at social interactions, I didn't know what to say, so I stood silent and dug circles in the grass with my right foot. As if in competition, Buster started digging right next to me, his rebuke all forgotten. \n\n\"Anyways, I'm Hailey\", she said looking back up at me. Hailey tried to hold Buster by the collar to make him stop from ruining the grass. I couldn't suppress a smile. \"I haven't seen you around this park before\", she continued still distracted by Buster's furious digging. \n\n\"I'm Jason. Yeah, I moved to the city not too long ago. I live across the bridge, but I had time today, so I thought I'd check out this area.\"\n\n\"I need to take him home, before he digs this entire place.\", she sighed. After brief struggle, she tied the leash to Buster's neck and beckoned him. \"C'mon Buster, its time to go home.\" With one last look my way, she bid me farewell. \"Well, it was nice to meet you Jason.\" \n\n\"It was nice to meet you too, Hailey\", I replied. \n\nI turned around to look at the view one last time, before heading back home myself. The clouds had parted slightly and the rays of the setting sun filtered through the clouds. The diffused rays hit the buildings in the distance at just the right angles. The buildings that appeared drenched in gloom just sometime ago, now reflected the golden red hues and shone brightly. It was amazing how much difference a few rays of sunshine did to the atmosphere, just as a small friendly gesture by a dog and his owner had done to my mood. \n\nAs I stood watching the light of the setting sun dance across the buildings, for the first time in weeks, I had a feeling that I was going to be just fine. \n\n******\n\nThank you for reading! If you enjoyed it, you can find more of my stories at /r/minidots. \n" ]	1
	[WP] A story with a clear protagonist and antagonist whose roles are reversed in the last sentence.	[ "As Lisa ran into the building, she worried about the innocent people Jason was endangering. She heard loud shouting from the third floor. Lisa quickly changed directions and ran straight out, climbing up thanks to the window sill. \n\nA man opened the window, letting her in. \"We're so glad you're here. Jason has to be--\" \n\nLisa already knew where he was. She heard him running down the hall, looking angry at several other men and women who had gathered around him. He shoved one poor lady aside and ran up the stairs. \"Stay here where you're safe!\" Lisa yelled before following him up the concrete stairwell.\n\nThere was no way she was going to let Jason trick her again. He always acted like he had done nothing wrong, but Lisa knew him better. At first he convinced her to join him. Soon she realized how backwards he was, how oppressive he was, but only with her, she felt. He had forced her through uncomfortable tests and trials that she hated. Jason acted like he was helping her, but it was all clearly manipulation. Lisa saw it all as clear as crystal now.\n\nShe gained on him. He saw her and locked himself into a room. She put her ear to the door and heard him arguing with someone. Oh no, Jason was taking a hostage!\n\nBut then the door she had been leaning on abruptly opened, with Lisa clumsily falling to the floor. How could she have been so idiotic to not see the trap? She sprang up and got in a fighting pose before he could react. Suddenly he burst into tears.\n\nLisa saw right through it. \"You don't fool me, villain.\" The hostage doctor must have fought his way out of the headlock before opening the door for her. Jason looked up, red marks under his eyes from his scuffle with the doctor.\n\nLisa's unbridled rage ended with Jason saying, \"Oh, my baby girl, thank God you're here; you have to take these.\"", "\"You really thought you could stop me?\" Goldberg asked, his smile stained his face. \n\"You never had a chance. I am stronger than you. I am smarter than you. My people descend from a long line of powerful families. My plan will work. You will fail.\"\n\nThe plan, although clever, could never work. This political chess game couldn't have the effects he hoped, could it? The great war seemed to change how warfare worked. Matters of territory and faith were up in the air. What really mattered was how you reached people. Now one man was all that's left. He saw through it. In his university studies, the artist in him was rejected, so he turned to the world to see what was happening, and what he found mortified him. He kept the title of artist, for now, but after his discovery, he hoped that would change. He hoped to stop this swine.\n\n\"I already got the ball rolling, loser.\" Goldberg spat at him. The Artist laughed.\n\"You mean with the economic downturn? My my, Goldberg, I do hope you were smarter than to count on that as your master plan.\"\n\nGoldberg hesitated. His shock was not well hidden. \n\"You... How did you know about that?\" Goldberg asked, his lower lip quivering.\n\"I had ties in ever market of the government, every corner of the economy. I had everything lined up perfect. How did you find out I would do that?\"\nThe Artist smirked. \"Your plan to collapse the economy and plunge us into debt so that you can make it your own country. But you didn't count on someone who watched your people the way I did!\" \n\nGoldberg began laughing. Once he gained his composure, he struck the artist hard in the temple. While he lay on the floor, blood trickled from his forehead down to his mustache. \n\"You fool.\" Goldberg said. \"I'm not going to collapse the economy. I'm going to drown it. I'm going to print so much money, it will be worthless. After we pay off our debt, I will give the rest to my people to share with ourselves and watch you and your kind starve while we become the people we were meant to be.\"\n\nThe artist reached into his coat and felt the cool metal he hoped to. He smiled, and blood stained his teeth. Goldberg, realizing his mistake of not checking if the Artist was armed, turned to run. The Artist pulled out his gun and emptied the clip into his back. He dropped and rolled to his back.\n\n\"It's too late. You can't stop what will happen. My people will be at the top once more. We're the chosen ones. God chose us.\" Goldberg coughed up blood. He was afraid.\n\n\"I don't want to stop you. I'll let it happen and when it's time, I'll step in and take over. And you know what else? I'll round up all your people. I'll kill them all. I don't care how chosen you think you are. This is my Germany now, Jew.\" The artist said.\n\nHe began to walk out, his head high with the hopes and dreams of a mad man.\n\"Damn you, Hitler..\" Goldberg wheezed with his last breath." ]	2
	[WP] For some odd reason the story is not continuing. The narrator desperately tries to entertain the reader, while working out the problem.	[ "The person walked along the road and then sat down at a bus stop. Suddenly, a bus came. The person disappeared and reappeared walking in. The sun kept moving backwards. The bus departed and came back.\n\nAh shit, lemme fix this.\n\nA giant bomb fell out of the sky. It hit the ground and disappeared. It did this many times...\n\nWtf is wrong?!\n\nThe bus became purple. It changed back to yellow after it came again, and purple when it was changed the first time.\n\nAt least this didn't happen to the full timeline.\n\nAnd then the Big Bang banged.", "Long ago, in a world similar to our own yet wildly different. Within this world was a city, a city in which science had been known to run ahead of others due to its isolation and lack of shits to give. The most noteworthy of these scientific happenings is that upon turning 25, people have begun to develop abilities that in our world we would describe as super powers or magic.\n\nOn this particular day, our young protagonist is turning 25, and is eager to discover what her new ability will be. She tries throwing fire, flying, running at sir sonic speeds, and everything she can think of but nothing happens. Disheartened yet determined, she tries for weeks on end. She tries changing her appearance from her abnormally average body to that of a skimmer kind. Her hair from its warm ginger colour to a fiery red. Her soft hazel eyes to a sharp green. Eventually deciding to give up on transfiguration, teleportation, or any other power, she decides to relent and hopes is not long until she finds it.\n\nBegrudgingly, she hops on the train and heads to work. Whilst thinking intensely about what her power could possibly be, she walks into another passenger. Before she could apologise and explain herself, the man in front of her starts yammering away in what sounds like German. Our protagonist does not speak German, I mean who does in Birmingham? Despite this, she understood perfectly when he muttered \"Esse sheiße\" and turned to leave.\n\"Eat shit?\" Our protagonist exclaims, indignantly \n\"Esse sheiße yourself, pick\"\nSuddenly the man stops in his tracks, looks at the woman near him with a cat carrier, walls over and pulls something from between the bars and puts it in his mouth. The look of horror on both the woman's face and his confirms our protagonists suspicion, he literally ate shit, and our protagonist had found her power.\n\nWe later join our protagonist at- wait, where's the story? I can't find the story. Sorry reader, I'll be with you in a second, I'm so sorry this never happens.\n...\nHow can I lose the story? It should all be here. I'm just going to make a quick call and try and find out what's happened here, bear with me just one minute please, I'm so sorry.\n...\n...\n...\nHelplines eh? Always takes forever to get through.\n...\n...\nHows your day been? Long day at work? I'm sure the plan was to relax and read a story, and I seem to have ruined that. I'm really sorry.\n...\n...\n...\nMaybe we can play a game? I'm thinking of a number between 1 and 10.\n...\nOh, right, you can't actually answer me. Uhhh, well maybe you can tell me about your day? I'm a good listener.\n...\nReally? That sounds interesting.\n...\nNo way? They seriously did that?\n...\nLook, I'm sorry, this is really interesting and all but it's not wor- Hello, yes this is the Narrator of the story.\n...\nYes, I understand that I'm supposed to be narrating but there's no story.\n...\nNo no, I'm not saying it's bad. I'm saying I have no story in front of me.\n...\nYes, I've gotten to the part where the German man eats poop, and we then join the protagonist... But where? That's where it ends.\n...\nWhat do you mean that's it?\n...\nBudget cuts?\n...\nRedundancies?\n...\nMy job?!\n...\nOh, I see, well this is unfortunate.\n...\nI'll tell the reader, thank you.\nWell, unfortunately the story is in fact over. Apparently we didn't have the budget for any more letters, and I've just lost my job for calling when I should have been narrating. I don't know how I'm going to explain this to my wife. I hear there's this office worker who needs a Narrator, Stanley or something. Maybe I'll apply for that.\n\nAnyway reader, thanks for joining me for what we got with the story and I hope the next one you read doesn't have these issues, bye.", "Captain Holloway had always been an able pilot. Like his father and his father before him, he was a true aviator. True freedom was when he was gliding through the sky. Whenever he flew through a cloud it was a religious experience for him. He could hear the voice of God in those times. \n\nBut suddenly Captain Holloway's routine descent was in serious trouble. Engine 2 was sputtering and about to stall. The commercial liner was mere minutes from the airport and flying over the cookie cutter homes of suburbia. The plane pitched and dropped. Screaming was heard through the cockpit door. They were going down. \n\nLooking at his co-pilot with fear in his eyes the Captain said words he thought would never leave his mouth.\n\n\"Today is the happiest day of my life!\" he screamed in terror as he fought for control of the aircraft.\n\nHmmmm, -cough-. that doesn't sound right.\n\nHolloway's co-pilot kissed the cross that hung around his neck with a pale face.\n\n\"Do you think the Red Sock's are going to take it this year?\" he shouted back at the captain over the sputtering roar of the dying engines. \n\n\"I doubt it!\" the pilot yelled back. \"Have you seen any good movies lately!?\"\n\nGood heavens! What's going on with this dialogue!?....Can we get Nancy in here? Yes, Nancy please. Where is she?.....No, no I can wait. Yes, that's alright....But do tell her to rush please....It's the dialogue....Yes, the dialogue. It's not matching up at all....Keep going?...If you're sure... \n\nAs the plane tilted to the left, the cockpit door burst open. It was Marion, the lead flight attendent. Mascara was running down her face. \"Ruff! Ruff, ruff!\" she cried. \"Ruff! Ruff!\n\nOh for Christ's sake! WHERE'S NANCY!?......Well get her on the phone, dammit!\n\n-ringing-\n\nYes, Nancy. David here. This dialogue is absolu---\n--no, my refrigerator isn't running. Why do you ask?", "*Chapter 4\n\n\"The killer is in this very room!\" Don claimed with confidence in his voice, whilst standing in the first class section of a cruise (in case you forgot) \"Thou killer not be I! My my, I say again, thou killer is whomst'nt me!\" shouted Jessie, the room feeling the sheer... fanciness of herself through her voice alone. Don yelled \"Exhibit A!\" and then he showed the room exhibit A, and everybody saw exhibit A. Exhibit A was footprints in the blood, the footprints being high--\n\n...\n\nUh, this never happened before! God damn it, is the reader seeing this? They are aren't they.\n\nOH, PLOT TWIST!* I WAS ACTUALLY THE KILLER! Yeah I made a surprise cameo!\n\nNo? Fuck you two, I mean, too. Anyways, I guess I HAVE to keep you entertained while I.. fix this shit.\n\nWanna hear 2 short jokes and 1 long joke?\n\nJoke joke joooooooooooooooooke.\n\nokay yeah that sucke-- HEY I THINK I MANAGED TO FIX IT?\n\nExhibit A was footprints in the blood, the footprints being high school musicals. Yes, that was what you were supposed to expect. \"The killer who commited the crime must have been a fan of High School Musical! They have poor taste too!\" \"Exsqueeze me Don, but we haven't learned the most important part of this case yet. We don't even know the murder wea--\n\nOH FUCK AGAIN?! Now I have to come up with more shitty jokes!\n\nI better fix this fast or else my boss is gonna dest-- \n\n... um, I see...\n\nSo it looks like we broke the REAL fourth wall now, this is REAL author speaking as indicated by the change in font from bold (Don story font) to italic (Don author font) and my font, which is normal. Yes the fourth wall that you initially broke was a mere decoy set up by I. Do not worry for I shall fix this iss--\n\nDon spilled wine on a book whilst showing off exhibit A. \"Excuse me\" he said, but deep down inside he knew that he did it on purpose to satisfy his raging bloodlust for the book, as it's fake fourth wall gimmicks where cliche and it was overall too fast paced. Of course the author of this book (The one Don is in, which also destroyed the book the author was in, the author being the one who wrote the book in which Don was in, in which Don complained about the author of the author of the reality Don was in.) knew this, and intentionally brought this issue to the reader's attention in order to make it invalid in a trope known as lampshade han-\n\n*Now we have a new author, as indicated by this new style of text, which is both bold AND italic. This author being me, and my role in this story is me being the one who wrote the story of the author creating the author who is the author of the story in which Don is in, with Don having slight control over the author of the author, and I fit into this by having full and total control. Anyways I plan to entertain you. I will challenge you with mental puzzles. Suppose you have a circle, calculate the mass of the sun. If you did this corre--\n\nmy boss is gonna destiny me! Yes, they have control over my destiny. Speaking of which I was about to sneeze and by instinct reached for a tissue but grabbed a book instead and sneezed into it. Hope it doesn't fuck anything up.\n\nThe meteor is headed for you! What's with the confused expression on your face? I was the one author who was right before the previous one and challenged you with mental puzzles. Did you really think some boogers wiped out an ENTIRE book? No, merely one page. You are on chapter 6 of MY story now. Let's go back a bit.\n\nChapter 4 of this guy's book. (Did you notice the chapter heading thing was the same as this guy's font? This was an intentional correlation which was an example of foreshadowing.)\n\nIf you did this correlation you would have found out that the sun is a circle, much like the circular object I mentioned you possessing. Anyways I think I fixed the issue of the author's author whilst you were gone. Have fun as this writing prompt concludes.\n\nDo not worry for I shall fix this issei. (an obscure word meaning japanese immigrant to north america) Yes, issei, because the author who I am the author of is a japanese immigrant to north america, and the definition of issei is a japanese immigrant to north america, and it is my duty to fix him, which I have done.\n\nHey im the author of Don, thank god nothing got cut off, this confusing bullshit was getting out of hand. Just enjoy the story from now on.\n\nand intentionally brought this issue to the reader's attention in order to make it invalid in a trope known as lampshade handkerchief, yes, handkerchief. Wiping lamps is Jessie's hobby. \"AND WHAT WAS THE ONLY THING CLEAN IN THE BLOODBATH OF THE SCENE?!\" Don yelled. \"A LAMP\" Don yelled, pointing his finger towards Jessie. Jessie was furious, she reached for the book. \"This is what happens when you harm and accuse a pretty lady like me!\", she waddled over towards the deck, and threw the book into the great, blue, ocea--", "The sun set and the forest grew dark as the knight Balain the Brave rode through Dreadood. Balain had to admit that the name was indeed most fitting. He had ridden through numerous dark forests, many of them rife with terrifying beasts and packs of brutal robbers yet he had never felt so uncomfortable. There was something off about the forest, but he could not quite put a finger on it. As he rode on the path seemed to become increasingly narrow, and the trees seemed to be leaning towards him, huge hulking figures, black against the grey sky. They were ancient oaks that had been old already when his great-grandfather had drawn his first breath. Balain had always liked trees. Trees were predictable. Trees never tried to kill you. But Balain did not like these trees. He could feel them watching him. \n\nBalain was a strong man who had once killed a bear barehanded, no pun intended. He had fought many battles and earned enough glory to buy him mead for a lifetime. But now something was amiss. At first Balain thought that he might have fallen ill. He was sweating like a feverish man and his heart was beating oddly fast and it felt as if an iron fist were clenching his heart. Slowly he realized that he was not sick. He was afraid.\n\nBalain the Brave had not felt fear for decades. He did not like it at all. But Balain was a brave man, and so he rode on, annoyed at his own weakness. And he rode further into the forest and the shadows kept creeping closer and closer. For a while, nothing drastic happened. Balain was certain that soon something would happen. Very soon.\n\nBut still nothing seemed to happen. This did not soothe Balain's nerves. He was a knight and he was used to action, not long lingering moments of tranquility. Something was supposed to happen. Suddenly Balain heard a rustling behind him.\n\nBalain froze and listened to the darkness. Now something would surely lunge at him. Yet still nothing happened. Perhaps it had been some animal, it was after all a forest. There are often animals in a forest. But very soon something would most definitely happen. It was absolutely certain that Balain would not have to wait for long. If only the knight kept riding patiently and did not loose interest something would definitely attack him soon. Yes, now, now was the moment that something would attack him. Now! \n\n...but nothing happened. But soon something will most definitely happen. There must be something dangerous in those woods, there always was. Sir Balain spied at the forest around him. A dragon perhaps? Or an assassin, sent for his life? Perhaps he could see a glimmer of yellow eyes in the shadows? Or hear a rustling of metal as a knife was unseated? No? Not even a sound? \n\nUm, not yet. Still, Balain rode on. He found himself admiring the forest. It was actually quite beautiful. The trees were now black velvet shadows in the dark and the peaked at him through the foliage, like a sad silver eye and-\n\nWait! Now something happens! After all, Dreadwood was a most perilous place. Balain had even heard a most bawdy joke about it. Two knights were riding on a road at night when they encountered a most curious fellowship. A pregnant woman, a high-priest and an angry goat. Now, one of the knights asked them what in the king’s name they were doing outside at such an hour. To his surprise, the goat answered. He—\n\nBut nevermind, it is truly a most boring joke. Balain was certain that something bad would happen. He found himself wishing that he had a better swoard. He knew that the best swords in the land could be found at Strong Steel TM. Truly, their shields are beyond compare. They can cut through flesh and bone as if it were molten butter. And now you can get your own Strong Steel TM blade for only—\n\nWAIT! Wait, SOMETHING HAPPENED! Yes, indeed. I mean, something always happens. How hard can it be? Um, so this Balain, he was riding on. And then something attacked him Yes, uh, a dragon! Yeah, a huge-ass dragon attacked him. Then the dragon tried to bite him. No, it tried to kill him! But Balain punched it and it died. \n\nNo, actually, Balain hit it with the pointy end of his sword and it died. That’s better. And then Balain decided that he would go home. I mean, why should he alway be fighting and going on adventures? He’s rich. If I was him I’d go home and find some nice chick. Can’t be very hard, he’s a beefy young knight with a fucking castle. \n\nOkay, so he gets a wife. And then they fuck and get old and fat in a big castle. And sometimes they go riding together and they fuck in the woods, yeah! And every friday they throw awesome parties for the whole realm, and everyone gets shitfaced! Yes! And everything is great and there are NO dragons and NO villains and everyone’s happy! And this is the BEST story! And that’s it.\n\nOh, yeah and they lived happily ever after!\n\nTHE END", ">The hero was Mighty! \nHis spear was a roaring green bright! \nHe was never to quit! \nHe was fated to fight! \n \n>Slashing and gouging, \nthe rival was gasping for chance \nStrafing and crouching \neven throwing some sand! \n \n>In face of dishonesty, \nour hero fell down! \nHis nemesis took the occasion \nto-- \n \nOne moment please. \nI mean not to jest. \nBut the poem seems to have halted \nPlease wait, we are doing our best. \n \n'Tis a shame actually, this... \nNow that the poem was gaining some traction.. \nI'm still working on the issue. \nOh! I've discovered a small fraction! \n \n \n>He was gouging* his eyes! \nHis hands were immense! \nOur mighty hero down on the floor, \nwas lying motionless. \n \n>With force and brutality \nThe nemesis gripped his head \ngouging further and further \nuntil our hero's eyes bled. \n\n>Suddenly, with-- \n \nI'm sorry again, there must be some kind of error... \nThat's the final part, it's filled with terror... \nI guess it's spoiled, I couldn't be more upset... \nThe files are corrupted, that's it I bet.. \n \nI can't make up to you, \nsince you can't unread what you've read. \nSo here's a new poem, \nabout flowers instead! \n\n(ahem)\n \n>Roses are Red! \nViolets are Blue! \nCheetahs are quick \nBecause they-- \n \nI'm so sorry. \nI don't know what to say. \nBut there seems to be another error... \nTo my prolonging dismay... \n \nThis is getting ridiculous, I'm just about to quit! \nBut you are still here, and that's just too sweet... \nI owe it to you, to fix this complication. \nI hope it, at least, shows some amount of dedication! \n \nSo let's give it a shot! \nTo see if we can! \nThis will not be for naught! \n(According to plan...) \n \n \n>Once upon a tim-- \n \nThere it goes... \n404 again. \nIt must be the server, \nor the clients therein.. \n \nWell, dear reader, at least we tried. \nThere's solution to some things, to others no dime. \nPoem machines run daft, and often on low steam. \nAnd that leaves us in here, somewhere in-between... \n\n\n\n\n\n" ]	6
	[WP] When you were young, you were known as a sick kid and was shunned by your classmates. This was because you can and did transfer other's sickness to your body. But now, at age 25, you found out that the only friend that stuck with you in your youth is sick with cancer.	[ "\"Thanks for lunch Sal,\" I said as she laid down her credit card.\n\n\"Happy to do it, Jerry,\" she replied with a soft smile. \"Besides, it's not like I'll be needing the money.\"\n\nI furrowed my brow. \"What do you mean?\"\n\n\"Well, I asked you to lunch for a reason. I want to let you know something, and it's not exactly something you just send in a text.\"\n\n\"Shit, Sally. What is it? Something happen to your folks?\"\n\n\"I, uh, have cancer.\"\n\nI went numb, her words hitting me with the strength of a two-by-four. My best friend, my only friend if we're being honest, calmly explained to me that she'd been diagnosed with cancer six months ago. And that the prognosis was not good. That what she had was aggressive, and not responding to the treatments so far. She used some technical words to explain it all, but I honestly couldn't focus on what she was saying. I couldn't believe that someone I had known since elementary school, who was only 25 now, was going to be dead in a year.\n\n\"Jerry, you've haven't said anything in a while. Are you doing okay?\" she said, jolting me out of my own thought train and back into the world.\n\n\"Yeah. I just... you wanna take a walk?\"\n\n\"I'd like that.\"\n\nWe left the small diner, and joined the crowds on the busy sidewalks. This was the neighborhood we'd grown up in. We had walked a couple of blocks in an awkward silence before I said something.\n\n\"That corner over there. That's where my uncle used to run his hustles. I mean 'magic shows,'\" I said with air quotes.\n\n\"Yeah, I kind of remember. Didn't he get arrested for that?\"\n\n\"He always used to tell me that if you have a gift, you should use it. His gift was sleight of hand, so he used it to rob anyone that stopped at his table blind.\"\n\nShe laughed. \"Charming.\"\n\nI knew what I had to do. \"Well he wasn't wrong. It's a waste of talent if you don't use everything you've got. And you've got a lot of gifts. I've known that since we were little.\"\n\n\"Are you seriously going to guilt trip me about dying?\" she chastised with a tone of mock incredulity. \n\n\"No,\" I said quickly. \"I'm telling you you're going to beat this thing. And then you're going to be president, just like you said you would.\"\n\n\"I said that in fourth grade you dope. And I don't really need any faux optimism. I was counting on you not to react this way, since everyone else is falling all over themselves to try to tell me how it's going to be alright.\"\n\n\"No, listen-\"\n\n\"No, you listen,\" she said, cutting me off harshly. \"I am dying. You need to accept that. And I need you not to try to make me feel better about it. We've never bullshitted one another, and I'm not going to let you start now.\"\n\nShe had tears forming in her eyes. I pulled her in to a hug. \"I guess I don't know what I expected out of the girl who told me in second grade that I'd have more friends if I wasn't so sick all the time.\"\n\nShe laughed into my chest. \"Now it's my turn to be sick. It's your job to give me the harsh truths and to come over uninvited all the time.\"\n\nA lump formed in my throat. \"Harsh truth: I don't think I can do that. You're the one with the strength to take care of everyone that needed it. And to do what needs to be done. That's why you're going to be president one day.\" I pulled her tighter into my embrace.\n\n\"Would you quit saying I'm going to be president. Our country elects morons, not corpses. Well...\" Her voice trailed off.\n\nEvery time I used my gift, the person I was helping passed out for a minute. It had always worked that way, ever since I was a kid. I had taken every flu, every cold, the chicken pox a couple of times, from all of my classmates growing up, and spared them the agony of disease. I figured there wasn't much point in having a gift like this if I didn't use it. Though it meant I spent a lot of my youth in my bedroom, it also meant I got to be friends with the greatest girl in the world. And now, I finally understood what I was supposed to do with this gift. Hell, with the amount of abuse my immune system took growing up, maybe it was strong enough to beat cancer.\n\n\"Sorry, Jerry, I guess I got light headed there for a minute,\" Sally said, rousing. \n\n\"It's alright. You were in the middle of promising me that when you beat this cancer you're going to become President and save the world,\" I said.\n\n\"I was not! I just got through-\"\n\n\"Promise me,\" I said, my tone growing serious as I looked her straight in the eye.\n\n\"Fine, jeez. I promise,\" she said, taken aback. \"It's not like a promise from a dead girl means a whole lot anyway.\"\n\n\"I told you already. You're going to beat this.\" " ]	1
	[WP] For several days now, you have woken up each morning with one fewer body part. The people around you refuse to acknowledge that this is happening.	[ "I woke up to the familiar threads of sun seeping through the Palm leaves and branches that made up my hut. That first ray of shine trickling through, the sand that was my blanket- the redeeming qualities of being a castaway. I soaked it in for a moment before all woe returned to me and I realized why I couldn't sit myself up. My arm was missing. I knew but had forgotten in my waking stupor. I had lost it the night before in my sleep. God knows how- but, wait... not both! I had lost one arm, that was all. I looked for myself as I felt I could only truly trust my eyes. The other was gone too. Both of my arms were missing, up to the shoulder. I was a living Foosball player. \n\nI pivoted onto my knee and brought myself up off the ground. I burst out of the hut. There was Stan and Lacy, taking their morning swim. \"Hey.\" I started toward them at a jog. \"Hey!\" My ghost-limbs were waving at them frantically, but all they could see was a pillow with legs and a head. They met me at the shore. They looked clean, glowing with health; suspiciously so. Stan slicked his hair back with both hands and I then realized how uncomfortable all the sand nesting in my beard was. And all the itches I couldn't scratch. And never will. \n\n\"What the fucking fuck,\" I declared. \"Look!\" My ghost limb pointed at the other. Then, realizing, my nose pointed too. \n\n\"Holy shit! Your other arm! It's gone!\"\n\n\"Another mongoose attack?!\"\n\n\"There's no way I would have slept through that.\"\n\n\"Didn't you the night before?\" Lacy asked.\n\n\"I don't even think mongooses are native here. Nor do I think they're capable of quietly entering a hut, eating an entire arm, and leaving the rest be with such discipline. What am I even dragging this out for! Did you guys, or did you not, drug me and take and eat my arms?\"\n\nLacy gasped. It was a lame performance. \n\n\"I am appalled,\" said Stan. \n\"That's appalling,\" Lacy added.\n\n\"Well, hear me out. The facts are, my limbs are missing in a very similar and clean, almost professional, fashion. You two are pharmacists-\"\n\n\"Were.\"\n\n\"-were pharmacists, with a little surgical background too. You've both been complaining of malnutrition up until these last two nights. Now. Are you sure you didn't drug me, saw off my arms, cook them, and eat them?\"\n\n\"You're imagining things. Probably island fever. You should lay down. Lacy get the saw- I mean med kit.\"\n\n\"You're both drooling.\" I sighed. \"You know what hurts the most? Not that you sawed off my arms and ate them, but that you lied about it. That's it.\" I threw up my ghost arms. \"I'm moving to the other side of the island.\"\n\n\"Oh come on. Don't do that.\"\n\n\"That's a little drastic don't you think?\"\n\n\"It's too late. I've made up my mind.\" \n\nI pushed my hut with my back across the sand until they were out of sight. It wasn't the last I'd see of them though. The island was small, and Stan and Lacy, as nice of cruise-mates as they used to be, had acquired the taste of human flesh. Bummer.", "Howard awoken one morning, stepped out of bed, and fell to the floor. After untangling himself from his sheets, Howard discovered that he no longer had a left leg.\n\nClimbing back up onto the bed, Howard drew each sheet across his lap, looking for a sign of blood or where his leg had gone. Despite a thorough search of each sheet they were completely immaculate. He lay the sheets out on the bed, looking for a telltale leg sized bump, but none could be found.\n\n“Not today,” Howard thought, “I can’t miss work, I’ll never be able to explain this.” \n\nHoward hopped out to the kitchen. His mother sat at the kitchen table reading the newspaper. “Mom,” asked Howard, “have you seen my leg?”\n\n“No,” said his mother, not bothering to look up from the newspaper.\n\n“Could you take me to the doctor?” Asked Howard.\n\nHis mother put the newspaper down and looked at the empty space where Howard’s left leg used to be. “Why?”\n\n“I thought they could help with my leg.”\n\n“You’re always doing this,” his mother said, “something’s always wrong with you. When I stubbed my toe I didn’t cry about it.” She went back to reading the newspaper.\n\n“I...Never mind,” Howard said.\n \nHoward hopped over to the pantry and took out a box of cereal. On his way to the cupboard to get a bowl he lost his balance and fell over. The box of cereal hit the floor and opened up, allowing a handful of cereal to spill on the floor.\n\n“Howard,” yelled his mother, “just because you think you lost your leg doesn’t mean you have to ruin this morning for everybody.”\n\n“I’ll clean it up, where’s the broom?” Asked Howard.\n\nHis mother took a broom and dustpan out of the laundry room and gently pushed him with it. “Don’t bother, I’ll clean it up for you. Just go to work,” replied his mother.\n\nHoward tried to stand up, but with only one leg he found himself unable to get any leverage. He scooted across the floor to a chair at the kitchen table, flopped himself up onto it like a fish, and sat up. A car horn went off, his carpool for work had arrived. He hopped his way to the front door where he realized he only needed one shoe. He laughed and called out to his mom, “Hey, at least I only need one shoe! I’ll save a lot of money.” He hopped out the front door.\n\n“He lost his leg and he thinks it’s funny? I didn’t think it was funny when I stubbed my toe.” His mother thought.\n\nAfter a quiet drive to work, Howard hopped into work, his manager stopped him at the front door. “What’s wrong with you?” His manager asked.\n\n“I lost my leg, but I can still work,” replied Howard.\n\n“You knew we were stocking everything today, how are you supposed to get up a ladder with one leg?”\n\n“I didn’t want to lose my leg, I just woke up and it was gone. I can still stock the bottom half of the aisles though,” Howard said. He hopped over to the nearest aisle and pulled a rubber dog toy off the middle shelf and waved it around. “See.”\n\nHoward’s manager crossed his arms. “Fine, you can just tell everybody you’re too sick to use a ladder.”\nAt the end of the day of stocking the aisles, Howard waited for his carpooling co-worker to come out to the car. Another co-worker walked by and said just loud enough for Howard to hear, “I wish I didn’t have a leg so I didn’t have to work.”\n\nHoward’s co-worker came out and they drove off. “I know how hard it can be to live without a leg,” his co-worker said, “one time my leg fell asleep and I could barely move it.”\n\nThat night Howard lay in bed. “This isn’t so bad, I can figure out how to live with just one leg, maybe I can figure out how to climb a ladder too,” he thought.\n\nThe next morning Howard tried to get out of bed, but found he could not bring his right leg off the bed. He threw the covers off to find his right leg missing. “I can’t go to work like this,” Howard thought.\n\nHoward threw the sheets onto the floor, creating a cushion. He rolled off the bed and fell onto the sheets, the cushion working perfectly. He dragged himself out of his bedroom and into the living room. \n\n“Mom, are you out here?”\n\n“I’m in the kitchen,” his mother replied.\n\n“I really need to go to the doctor today, my other leg is missing.”\n\nHoward’s mother came into the living room, a look of disgust on her face. “One leg wasn’t bad enough, you had to lose two? How many more are you going to lose?”\n\n“I only had the two.” Howard laughed at the thought of having a bundle of legs kicking all over the place.\n\n“You obviously didn’t lose your legs if you’re laughing about it. I’m leaving now, I have things to do.” Howard’s mother walked out the front door.\n\n“Oh crap,” Howard thought, “I need to call in sick.”\n\nHe dragged himself over to the couch and up onto it. He picked up the phone and called his manager.\n\n“Lou’s Grocery, Greg speaking,” said Howard’s manager.\n\n“Hey Greg, it’s Howard, I can’t come into work today, I lost my other leg.”\n\nThere was silence for a few seconds on the other end before Greg spoke. “Okay, you’ll need a doctor’s note.”\n\n“Alright, I’ll get one,” replied Howard.\n\n“Will you be coming in tomorrow?” Asked Greg.\n\n“I don’t know, my legs might not be back then.”\n\n“Okay, call me tomorrow if you don’t come in. Bye.”\n\nHoward hung up the phone and dragged himself back to bed. Despite having just woken up, he felt as though he hadn’t slept in days. He lay down in his bed and fell asleep.\n\nWhen Howard woke up his room was completely dark. “How did I sleep all day?” He thought.\n\nHe tried to take off his covers, but found he could not move his arms. “Mom?” He called out.\n\nHis mother came into his bedroom. “You’ve been sleeping in here all day. What do you want?”\n\n“I can’t move my arms,” replied Howard, “can you check if they’re gone?”\n\n“I’m not going to play your stupid games any more. You can lay there or come out for dinner, but stop this thing with your legs and arms, I’ve had enough of it.” His mother walked out, leaving Howard laying in bed, unable to move.\n\nThe next morning Howard’s mother sat at the kitchen table reading the newspaper. “Why hasn’t Howard come out yet?” She thought.\n\nShe went to Howard’s room. He was lying where she left him, but now without a head. She called the emergency number and a few minutes later paramedics arrived. They immediately pronounced him dead.\n\n“Ma’am,” one of the paramedics asked, “did you notice anything unusual with your son?”\n\n“No,” Howard’s mother said, wiping tears from her eyes, “he didn’t say anything was wrong.”\n\t\n", "I heard my mother's voice through the haze of sleep. \n\n\"Wake up, dear!\" \n\nGroggily I tried to push the sheets off of me, but for some reason they weren't moving. Brightness hit my eyelids.\n\n\"Did you have to turn the lights on? I could do it myself, you know,\" I said. \n\nThis was met with silence. That's when it hit me. Every day for several days, I'd woke up with one fewer body part. Some days I only lost a toe, or a finger. I was a torso with a one eared, one eyed, toothless head. How was I going to get dressed? I absolutely panicked. It took several minutes to calm myself enough to convince my caretaker that I wasn't having a seizure.\n\nThere was no point in explaining my terrifying and unfortunate predicament. I'd tried in days past, but everyone around me refused to acknowledge what was happening to me. They did however, acknowledge most of my behavior from past days. Even if that behavior required limbs I no longer had. \n\nI'd once read about a group of kittens that were raised in an environment where there were no horizontal lines for the first few months of their lives. [They were unable to see vertical lines for the rest of their lives](https://computervisionblog.wordpress.com/2013/06/01/cats-and-vision-is-vision-acquired-or-innate/). I felt like what was happening to me was the vertical line no one else could see. They hadn't experienced anything like it before, so their minds just glossed over it.\n\nSeveral days back I'd tried to end it all. I'd failed. This resulted in a week in a psychiatric unit, followed by mandatory therapy. Since the first thing they did in the unit was drug the living hell out of me, I lost several body parts without even knowing the days had gone by. \n\nOnce I figured out that reacting was making things worse, it had taken a lot of effort to not outwardly acknowledge what I was going through enough to be let out. With each body part I lost, being in the psychiatric unit became more dangerous. They didn't allow doors to be locked, and it wasn't rare for other patients to wander in. \n\nI gave a good show of it and was eventually released with the agreement that I would attend therapy twice a week. Today was my lucky day. One hour with a thoughtful, intelligent adult who would listen carefully, take notes, and still not hear a word I said. It felt very lonely, but at the same time, I'd become less careful about what I said as I slowly realized she had every intention of allowing me to stay home.\n\nAs each body part disappeared, so did many of my friends. I was left alone for long stretches to contemplate the only way this could end, while at the same time being left with less I could do to take my mind off of things. This created a circumstance where I both dreaded and looked forward to therapy. At least there was someone to talk to. I could say anything, so long as it wasn't about the most important things, and be heard. This accidentally gave my mind permission, just for that hour, to not think about the very thing I was obsessed with the rest of the time.\n\nWhen I wasn't at therapy, I was constantly guessing what body part would be taken next. One more eye, and I couldn't read. When my ear had disappeared, so had my ability to hear. I could be deaf, tomorrow or wake up without a tongue. Not knowing what would disappear tomorrow was an agony almost as bad as adjusting to what was taken that morning.\n\nI caught myself thinking of waking up as a severed head or a torso. Would my body still find a way to survive, or would I die? I needed to come up with a word for this partially crazy, terrifying alone-ness. \n\nWhen I arrived at therapy, I decided to make the best of it. I talked about sports, video games, and many other things I couldn't do anymore, as though I could. I relived several of my past exploits, friends I no longer had, experiences that had meant a lot to me. It was the most enjoyable time I'd had in months, and it was quickly over.\n\nWhen my time was up, the therapist gave me a sad smile and said that although today was great, next visit we really needed to talk through some more serious things. She reminded me to take one day at a time. If she only knew how badly I wished I could stop tomorrow from happening... \n\nAt least I'd had one last good conversation. I found myself wishing I could be like the rest of them, unable to see what was happening. That night, I fell asleep counting the vertical lines on my wall and dreamed of kittens.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n" ]	3
	[WP] Write from the view of a man living in a totalitarian state. But, the state actually is the good guy, the rebels are the real baddies.	[ "The fighting had been going on all night, gunfire sounding throughout the city as the rebels advanced, street by street, forcing the government forces steadily back. Now, as dawn broke and the first rays of sunlight shone out over the smoldering city and pillars of smoke, the fighting had finally reached our street. Every building was now full of government soldiers, following their orders to protect the citizenry at whatever cost, making last stands in a desperate attempt to keep the rebels from reaching us. We were the unlucky ones, the citizens who had failed to evacuate and now sat huddled in a room on the top floor as the sounds of gunfire slowly edged their way up towards us. \n\nScreams and shouts rang through the building, drowning out the frightened whimpers we made. There were 13 or 14 of us, men and women who had been unable to escape during the dotted evacuations of the siege, now sat in the dark confines of a room, covered in dust and blood, some cradling their legs, others crying. Every so often the gunfire would stop suddenly, drowning the room in silence as we sat, hearts pounding, waiting for it to inevitably restart, closer each time. Now the sun was rising, peaking in through the boarded-up windows and illuminating the dense curtains of dust and the piles of ash that covered the ground. \n\nThis was how the night ended and the day began, even as the fighting below us petered out once again and silence once again reigned supreme, only punctuated by the distant sounds of explosions. There we sat, waiting for the infernal silence to finally end and the familiar drumbeat of war to start up once again. What we heard was different, hurried footsteps as if someone were trying to rush up the stairs towards us. With a start, we turned towards the door, time seeming to halt and our breaths catching in our throats. Even the soft, constant sobbing seemed to stop, no one daring to make a sound as the distinctive noise of hurried footsteps approached us and a shadow began to appear at the base of the door. \n\nInstinctively, almost, we began to pull back, as if we were trying to disappear out of sight so that we might not be noticed by the rebels once they entered. Finally, the door was pushed open, squeaking on its hinges and eventually coming to a stop with a slight bump to reveal a boy of no more than 16, stood in the doorway in a dark green government uniform. Sat as we were, he seemed to tower over us, a look of abject terror showing on his face and a gun hanging limply in his left hand. He stared at us for a second, as if trying to comprehend our presence or recover from some shock, before he finally reacted, dropping his gun to the floor and stepping quickly into the room.\n\nTears seemed to run down his face as he spoke, his voice filled with emotion. \n\n\"Th-they... They've taken the building, there's nobody left,\" his words were slow and stuttering as if he himself couldn't quite believe what had happened. A chorus of fresh sobs and cries began sounding out throughout the room, men and women alike breaking down and the rest of us just staring at the boy in disbelief. Shaking violently, the boy took a step into the room, a deathly smell of sweat, blood, piss and faeces rising to greet him. \n\nHe didn't smell it for long, only a moment later a deafening shot rang out from the hallway and the boy fell, his head seeming to explode with blood and brain matter. It took us a minute to comprehend what had happened, the corpse fell to the ground, a pool of blood quickly forming around him and lapping at our feet. Streams of red ran down my face, dripping down and joining the small lake that seemed to have formed. \n\nThen they came, storming into the room, dressed in various shades of dark blue and quite casually stepping through the blood as they turned their guns to us. Suddenly we were pulled up, dragged by rough hands as men stood at the side with their guns trained on us and forced up against the walls as they searched us. The occasional cry of pain rang out as they dug their rifles into our backs, often yelling at us to stand still. Sometimes there was a cry of fear and indignation as the soldiers, while searching the women, allowed their hands to stray. \n\nAfter what seemed like an eternity, we were finally pulled back from the walls and herded out in a line to the streets. As we left, we could see the same from a number of other buildings as short lines of people were driven out into the streets. There we were separated, men from women, white from black, divided into a dozen different groups based on every criterion one could think of and made to kneel. In truth, we looked virtually identical to one another, lined up on our knees and covered in grey ash. Some staggered out, thin and malnourished, their flesh barely clinging to their bones and their faces looking like skulls. Many could barely stand as their legs, weak and withered, seemed to almost give way beneath them. \n\nThe soldiers stood around them, most staring on coldly at a defeated and conquered populace, in stark contrast to the people they now shepherded, fit and strong and wearing dark blues that seemed to stand out ever the brighter compared to the bleak grey that surrounded it on nearly every side. The smells of smoke and death seemed suffocating as great pillars rose up into the sky and scattered bodies were slowly gathered up and dragged off for burning. Somewhere I could hear laughing, a couple of soldiers probably sharing a joke as they stood surrounded by the dead. A cold wind seemed to cut right through us as we sat there, waiting for the something to happen. \n\nFinally, a man arrived, walking down the street between the rows of kneeling men and women. Like the others he was dressed in dark blue, proudly walking down amongst the dead and dying with a slight smile on his face as he observed us. Finally, he stopped, just ahead of me, and began looking around at us, kneeling on the ground, malnourished, drenched in blood, barely covered by the stained and tattered remains of our clothing and smothered in ash as the soldiers watched us keenly, their guns trained on us. He seemed to observe us for a moment before he chuckled.\n\n\"Such sullen faces!\" He announced as if he truly couldn't quite believe it, \"Cheer up, you're free now!\"\n\n\n" ]	1
	[WP] Everyone had "the Dream" until they are 18, which determines their Purpose in Life and Career. You haven't had it and turning 19 Tomorrow.	[ "Aronavo Iks called out to the taxi. The man slowed his boat down. \n\n\"Hello there friend. Where to?\" \n\n\"New Urden\" Iks said. \n\n\"Yes, I can go there.\" he replied. \n\nAronavo got in.The wind anchorite looked barely 25 years of age. From the markings Iks could tell that this boat was his own. He waved his hands and a gale blew. The wheels on the boat turned and they sailed down the street. \n\nDrene tried to create chat with his passenger. \"So from school or to?\" he asked managing to blow them without looking. \n\n\"From. just finished with some things.\" \n\n\"Ahhh, so it's onto the career then. What's your future then?\" \n\n\"I don't know.\" Iks replied. \n\n\"What do you mean you don't know?\" \n\n\"Haven't you had the...\" \n\n\"Nope...\" \n\n\"Seriously?\" \n\n\"No shit.\" he replied glumly. \n\n\"Well you could always join one of the professions with your eye color. I mean some abilities just help in some fields you know what I mean.\" \n\nAronavo turned and looked him in the eye. The wind stopped briefly as Drene doubled over. He never paid much attention to his customer's face. \n\n\"Are those yellow eyes?\" \n\n\"Yes they are.\" \n\n\"But what do they do? can you manipulate water or something?\" \n\n\"I can see sound.That's about it, and I haven't had the dream yet so I'm still not sure what the future holds for me.\" \n\nFor a long time they sailed in silence. The wind anchorite was without words for his passenger for quite some time, but he was determined to make sure he left the journey better in mood not worse. \n\n\"You know what, it doesn't matter if you haven't had the dream. A lot of things change. My dream destined me to be a chef at one of the top restaurants in this nation. Here I am though. I only did it for a year when the restaurant burned down.\" Iks turned to him. \n\n\"Yeah serious. A lot of people suspect it was a business rival but nobody knows so you can't go around saying that. Now here I am driving through the towns. Plans change you know.\" \n\n\"Which restaurant?\" he asked. \n\n\"The Third Zagreb.\" \n\n\"I heard about it. Passed by it some time. I don't imagine you being a chef.\" he added. In the white tunic and rolls of necklaces on his neck, you wouldn't imagine Drene bending over a cooker. Not to mention his wild hair probably being in every customers food. \n\n\"Yes, well, it took some time, but now here I am, on my own. With my own sailor. The dream never mentioned the single string of a sail.\" \n\n\"You know, you're right. So many soldiers think they'll become generals and then.... I know at least one guy who got pissed at destiny because his dream had him being a low-wage clerk and now he's one of the best fighters in the country.\" \n\n\"Exactly.\" \n\n\"So the dream is just a starting point, if you don't know what you want, do this, but if you have your plan to hell with the dream. make your own path or fumble around until you figure it out.\" \n\n\"Something like that,\" Drene said as he slowed down. \n\nThey were arriving at the destination. The yellow-eyed passenger jumped off before it came to a complete halt. A habit Drene discouraged but for now he let it pass. Aronavo smiled as he got off and walked to Fort Griza his heart lighter as his pocket when he started the ride. \n \n**\n/r/pagefighter\n ", "January 7th, 2012\n\nMy friends have been interrogating me to tell them my special dream all year, and they never believe me when I say I haven't had it yet. Tomorrow's my 19th birthday... I think there's something wrong with me. Almost every person in my grade has gotten the dream, and they all brag. Some of my friends got lawyers and doctors, while some of the unfortunate ones got plumber, or clown. Everybody has a use, but obviously some are more important than others.\n\nA lot of kids have stopped associating with me because they think I'm crazy and hiding something, like they think I'll be a serial killer. I wish I could just be normal.\n\n\nJanuary 8th, 2012\n\nI had my dream last night and I'm going to be a movie star. Cool, I'm glad that literally nothing is wrong with me and there's a happy ending.\n\nEDIT: Formatting\n\n\n\n\n", " \"I'm just really worried, y'know?\" Alex said, fiddling with the strings from his sweatshirt, \"I'm 18 tomorrow and nothing, not even so much as a mild daydream.\" \n \n \"Well, don't give up hope yet, there's still time,\" Joey assured. They'd been friends since they were in 7th grade, and were close to inseparable. \n\n \"It's just... Alright, you've basically always know about the whole scientist thing right?\"\n\n \"Ever since I was a little kid.\" \n\n \"I don't understand, I'm the only person in the entire world who doesn't know what they're going to do with their life. What did you say it felt like again?\" \n\n \"I don't know Alex, I just kinda knew, besides, it's different for everybody.\"\n \n \"You're not really giving me much to go on here Joe.\" \n\n \"Look, I don't know what to tell you, I'm sure you'll figure it out. Anyways I gotta go, it's date night.\" \n\n \"Oh yeah, say 'hi' to Lindsay for me.\" \n\n \"It's 'Brittany'.\" \n\n \"Whatever.\" \n\n&nbsp;\n&nbsp;\n\n\n Alex Anregen was just like everybody else, except for one big thing: He had no idea who he was supposed to be.\n \n \"You can say that again.\" \n \n Wait, what? You can hear me? \n \n \"Yeah, why is that confusing, I thought you were just my 'inner monologue' or something.\" \n\n Not exactly, I'm your narrator. \n\n \"My narrator? Like, story narrator?\" \n\n Yep. \n\n \"Hold on, your saying I have a narrator?\" \n\n That seems to be the case. \n\n \"But that can't be right, I've heard you ever since I was a little... Kid... Wait a second...\" \n\n What is it? \n\n \"Joey's known what he's supposed to do since he was a little kid right?\" \n\n He did say that, yes. \n\n \"And he said it's different for everybody right?\" \n\n I don't know if I'm following you here. \n\n \"Don't you see it? You're my dream! My entire life you've been there and I had no idea.\" \n\n At this point a couple across the street was looking at Alex with confusion. \n\n \"Don't change the subject. You're my dream, that means you can tell me what I'm supposed to be.\" \n \n Well, I'm a narrator, what do narrators usually go hand-in-hand with? \n\n \"Stories...\" \n\n Bingo. \n\n \"So that's it? My purpose in life is to be a story?\" \n\n I guess so. \n\n \"This is ridiculous, what kind of stupid purpose is that?\" \n\n It's not ridiculous, actually, I'd say it gives you the most freedom out of anybody in the world. \n\n \"What do you mean?\" \n\n Well, all you have to do is be a story. I guess the best thing you can do is make it a good one.", "On Crake, south of Cullen, there's a string of concrete shops, perfect squares with identical windows and identical doors, set apart only by the different colors of their awnings. A purple and a blue and an orange and a moldy mustard yellow. The moldy mustard yellow belongs to Jansen & Jansen, and Jansen & Jansen is where Lila thought she needed to be.\n\nThe receptionist took her name, took her birth date, and took her phone number. Then Lila sat and stared at the paintings on the wall. She'd seen those same paintings before, in her dentist's office, and maybe, perhaps, in that insurance agent's office when she was just a child. A farm at sunset on one wall. A creek with geese on another. An old man in a boat holding a fly rod in the last. The paintings made her uneasy. They reminded her of the dentist. And they reminded her, in a vaguer sort of way, of that insurance agent.\n\n\"Mote? Lila Mote?\" A woman had opened a door - an almost secret door, adjacent to the receptionist's desk - and was standing there, holding a clipboard, looking around as if there were anyone else in the room but Lila.\n\n\"Yes. Me.\" Lila followed the woman into the tiled hallway past the receptionist's desk. It was colder there, somehow, and dimmer. She felt as if she were walking into a very modern sort of dragon cave. And even here there were paintings. A boy with a kite over there. Two lovers having a picnic on the side of a hill over here. \n\n\"Have a seat,\" said the woman, pointing into a room where only two chairs existed. A small room with a single, bright fixture in the dead center of the ceiling and a wide window hidden behind Venetian blinds. Lila froze a moment, wondering if one seat was the right choice and the other the wrong choice. But she sat in the farthest chair and nothing was said, so she assumed it hadn't ever really mattered.\n\n\"Lila Mote,\" said the woman, reading the clipboard, pen hovering in the air. The pause was exceedingly pregnant, so Lila went ahead and took it as a question.\n\n\"Yes.\"\n\n\"18.\"\n\n\"Yes.\"\n\nThe papers shuffled, up then down. \"You have a birthday coming up,\" said the woman. Lila took it as a reprimand.\n\n\"Next week,\" said Lila. \n\n\"That's fine,\" said the woman, smiling, but not really. \"Lots of people wait until the last minute.\"\n\nLila winced. \"Right.\"\n\n\"Dr. Bellhorn will see you in a moment.\"\n\nThen Lila was alone in the small room with no paintings. She craned her neck to see if there were any cracks in the blinds. There were two. The window looked out on the parking lot.\n\nThe door swung back open. A man, short, hairy - his beard went nearly to his eyeballs - and open-faced, coasted in. \"Miss Mote?\" His voice was loud. Too loud for such a small room.\n\nLila rose to shake the doctor's hand. \"You're ready for your reading?\" said Bellhorn, thumbing haphazardly through that same pile of papers. \"And not a moment to lose! Looks like you've got to get on with your life soon, haven't you?\"\n\nLila blushed and flushed and settled awkwardly back down onto her chair. \"Actually, well, you see...\"\n\nBellhorn was kind. Lila could tell by the way he let her collect her thoughts. Not enough people let you collect your thoughts in those days. Everyone was always racing to help you pick them up, which tended to make them even jumblier than they already were.\n\n\"I... I haven't had it yet.\" Lila swallowed. \"Not yet.\"\n\nBellhorn frowned, his bear-face collapsing inward. \"The Dream, Miss Mote? You haven't had it...ever?\"\n\nLila shook her head. She was worried she might not ever be able to talk again, so deep was her embarrassment.\n\nBut the doctor's frown dissolved - dissipated - like a handful of a dog hair tossed into a river. \"Do you dream at all, Miss Mote?\"\n\nLila took a breath. \"Yes. Yes, every night. But it's never the* Dream. Mindy... my friend Mindy... She's had the Dream every night since she was eight years old. Always the same. Always crystal clear. She almost didn't get a reading, she was so sure she knew what it meant.\"\n\nBellhorn nodded. \"Tell me about your dreams.\"\n\n\"But I... they're all so different! And I can hardly remember any of them!\" Lila felt herself beginning to panic. She had felt so hopeless and condemned for the better part of her teen years. Only now, saying it all out loud, unburdening herself in this way, made it all worse somehow. There really was no hope for her. \n\n\"That's fine, though,\" said Bellhorn, leaning forward, smiling. \"Just tell me the images. The vague little memories. Last night, for instance - what did you see?\"\n\nLila shook her head. \"My sister had a balloon, and... the balloon got bigger and bigger. I had wanted the balloon, but then I saw how big it was getting and I got scared of it. My sister didn't even seem to notice how big it was. How it was filling the whole house. Crushing things. I tried to hide in my room, but it burst through the door. So I jumped out the window and the whole house collapsed and the balloon just kept getting bigger and bigger. I was never going to outrun it. It was just...\" Lila noticed herself shaking. \"I was upset when I woke up. But it feels like I'm always upset when I wake up. I don't know what it means.\"\n\n\"Well,\" said Bellhorn, \"I'm a reader, not a psychologist. That said, your case isn't nearly as unique as you might think.\"\n\n\"Really?\" said Lila.\n\n\"Quite,\" said Bellhorn. \"It's obvious that your lack of a Dream is weighing very heavily on you. I think you might find that this anxiety has become the loudest voice in the room so to speak, which is something I know a bit about.\" Lila laughed at the joke and felt the first little twinge of ease.\n\n\"The Dream is neither the beginning, nor the end,\" Bellhorn continued. \"We adults make the mistake of hyping it up like that, making it seem like the single most important thing that will ever happen to you. But it isn't. It's a single step. And in life, there are many, many steps.\"\n\nBellhorn struggled back to his feet, then ambled over to a nearby cabinet. \"I keep this, always always. It's a nice little reminder for me, but I think it may be even more meaningful to you.\"\n\nBellhorn pulled out a certificate - heavy stock, embossed all along the edges in a bright, rose gold. Lila took the certificate.\n\n\"Julius Bellhorn,\" she said. \"Identified Purpose - Landscaper. Reading performed July 25, 1977, by Dr. Randall Whiteside.\" Lila turned the certificate around in her hands. It seemed authentic. \"You're not a landscaper.\"\n\n\"Correct,\" said Bellhorn, retrieving the certificate and setting it back in the cabinet. \"Nor am I veterinarian, though I made an honest effort at that as well. Do you know how long I've been a reader?\"\n\nLila didn't want to be offensive. \"I'm not...\"\n\n\"Ten years,\" said Bellhorn. \"And yes, I'm 57 years old. I love it, by the way. Besides my wife and kids, I've never loved anything more.\" He reclaimed his seat, groaning slightly as he did. \"So... Miss Mote. What does this mean for you?\"\n\nBut Lila wasn't sure. She felt better, certainly, but that anxiety wasn't gone by any stretch. It was just different, somehow.\n\n\"I still don't have a Dream,\" she said. \n\n\"Maybe not,\" said Bellhorn. \"Maybe not a Dream - capital D. But what about a little dream? A thought? A secret hope? Your friend Mindy and her kind, they see their Dream when they close their eyes. But you and I and many like us are different. For some of us, the dreams only come when our eyes are open. So Miss Mote, in those moment when you let your fear slide away and you find that you are simply living - happy, free, and unburdened by the thought of this meeting here today - what dreams do you have then?\"\n\nThere was one. Lila hadn't known that it was a dream until just then. She hadn't known it was anything at all. Just errant thoughts. But she'd seen it - seen herself, an older version of herself, alive and awake - more times than she'd realized. \n\nShe smiled. A certain kind of weight slipped off her shoulders and her chest and her mind. \n\n\"I do have one,\" she said. And she told him what it was." ]	4
	[WP] You find yourself transported through time into the middle of an ongoing war. Fortunately, you've totally memorised every small detail of the war for a test.	[ "The dig is going well. A few artifacts were already being authenticated. We were close. I could tell that we were close. Somewhere under this mountain of rocks Lothair was buried with all the trappings befitting a King of his stature....\n\nI have found a sword. It is nearly seven hundred years old and it looks like it this was forged yesterday. This sword could have been worn at the battle of Hastings. This sword means that we are right....\n\nI pull the blade from its shining scabbard. It has not seen the sun for centuries. There is something etched onto the blade. Its fine razor edge catches my thumb. A single drop of blood runs down the center of the ancient weapon. The runes on the blade are ancient Scandinavian, it says \"VICTORY\"....\n\nThe blade is vibrating in my hand, and I am unable to let it go. My muscles lock around the hilt. My fingers are white as they grip the sword tight. I am screaming for help, but no one is coming. I squeeze my eyes shut against the pain in my wrist and arm. The sound of horses cuts short my cries. I open my eyes and see a cavalry charge coming from the top of the hill....\n\nI am wearing thick leather armor. I still have the sword in my hand, but now I also carry a heavy wooden shield as well. I am not alone. Instead I stand in a rank of lightly armored men. Each of them holds a shield just like mine. They bear the mark of William the Conqueror. It is a small point of pride that I was right about the site of our dig. We march into the field facing down a superior force. We are out numbered and surrounded, but I know something that no one else does. I know that we win this day. I know that the field is more like a bog. It is a quagmire of stinking mud. Our men are used to this sort of terrain. Their light armor makes them swift and lethal. Their horses can not move through this wet and slippery sod. We move across the slimy mud lightly and with care. While the enemy wears heavy plate and mail. They sink into the mud and die screaming for help. Their compatriots can only stand on the heads of the drowned lest they too sink into the muck. We cut them down before they can even raise their hands in defense. It is a complete rout. But I already knew that it would be. ", "\"I'm telling you, don't sell!\"\n\nDespite the last hour or so, I still wasn't convinced that the person in front of me was, well, me. He looked like me, and even had the same mannerisms. It was like looking at a mirror, except the reflection was an older version that moved on its own. \n\nHe was even wearing my favorite salmon shirt, and I found myself amazed that it would (allegedly) survive for that long. \n\n\"I'm telling you, they're dead.\" I shot back again. It was funny how we also talked the same way. Why would anyone want to impersonate me?\n\n\"Yeah, it looks like that now, \" my doppleganger countered, \"but he's coming back!\"\n\n\"Yeah right! Why would they bring back someone they fired?\"\n\n\"Well, they're pretty desperate right now, as you can imagine. But trust me! He'll revamp the Mac, sell them in different colors...\"\n\nI snorted and laughed out loud, as he continued.\n\n\"...and he'll call it the 'iMac'. He'll also launch an MP3 player that will sell a lot!\"\n\nI laughed again. \"An MP3 player, wow! What will they think of next? A phone? Will they call it the ...\" I paused for effect, and waved my hands as I said \"...iPhone?\" \n\nMy sarcasm seemed lost on the self-styled time traveler. \"That's right! How'd you know?\"\n\n\"I was just being funny.\" Well, people did say I could be really dense at times.\n\n\"Whatever. Just don't sell your stock!\"\n\n\"Why not?\"\n\n\"It's at 60 cents now, right?\"\n\n\"Yes, I think?\" The stock was a gift from my uncle. It was his way of trying to get me to play the stock market, but I was always too busy to watch the prices.\n\n\"It will be worth almost 130 dollars twenty years from now.\"\n\nNow I was interested! I didn't really need a car, and it was worth biking for a few more years if I ended up a millionaire.\n\n\"Ok ok, if you're really me... what's my favorite game?\"\n\n\"Fallout 4.\"\n\n\"There will be a Fallout 4?!\"\n\n\"Yes! But it's now 3D...\"" ]	2
	[WP] Write a passage about a landscape, building or place from the point of view of a parent whose child has just died. Evoke emotion without mentioning children, the parents, or dying. (From John Gardener).	[ "The white tundra sent out a bright glare as the sun slowly sweeps over it. The wind whispered over the snowy plains carrying with in a thin wisp of snow. The snow flew out over the open sea in the direction of a nearby glacier. Time speeds by as the water slaps against the cliff ledge. The glacier grows and grows with the passage of time. One sunset time slows and the glacier begins to touch the landmass for the first time. The sun sets and the world goes black as the two land masses fully merge. The days grew longer and the chill air began to warm. Light reflected off snow creating a fantastic display of lights. The crackling of the glacier began to fill the silence and without notice a large chunk of the glacier fell off and created a spectacular display as the water tried to fill the space the chunk left behind. The now iceberg began to float away in the waters current. The warm air slowly melting it as the days went by. The popping and crackling of the ice calling out to it as it slowly disappeared on the horizon. " ]	1
	[wp] you are developing a recording software. you want to test out how it handles bugs so you input a negative recording time. the software outputs the words "what the fuck?". Out of surprise you say " what the fuck?".	[ "I remember loving the summer breeze. I wanted to be a musician when I was young. I even got a full scholarship when I applied to the school. But my family split, and my brothers and I had a choice: To live with an alcoholic mother, or an abusive father. Luckily I was 18 years old, and decided to go live on my own. I couldn't leave my brothers alone, so Jason and Harold joined me.\n\nBut I quickly learned that I can't pay rent, buy groceries, and allow then have their after school activities on my music school scholarship. So, shortly after finishing an evening course of software development, I started doing freelancing jobs. The money was good, but there were many concept I didn't learned. I mostly used my artistic approach to find new solutions for stuff people learn by heart in Computer Science degree. My solutions may not be the most efficient, but they work. And professional developers love to tease me about it, but when they see my code their eyes light up - the artistic beauty of my solutions makes it all worth while.\n\nBut today - today Todd and I were working on a new project. Todd was one of those pretentious coders with a trust fund. My code impressed him, and he suggested for us to work together of a project he has. He would be in charge of the efficiency, while I'll work on a beautiful design. This was just an ordinary day, or should I say night, since we found peace in the nights' silence.\n\n\\- C'mon, it's half past 7. We should get home and get some sleep. My wife is about to go to work, and I want to see her.\n\n\\- Just one more line.. Wait.. Let me commit this module and run it once and we'll be one. Annnddd.. Done! Record a random song from the radio, and I'll change it's duration on the server.\n\nIt's funny - the song that played was \"This time\" by \"John Legend\". 30 seconds later, a sample of the song was recorded. I changed the duration on the server to \"-1s\" and hit play on the recording.\n\nSuddenly, a pop up appeared on the screen - \"What the fuck?\". I looked at Todd, and I said \"What the fuck? Are you messing with me? You implemented this stupid game into our software? We need it working by the end of the week. We don't have time for games.\"\n\nBut Todd seemed as shocked as I was. All he said was - \"play it again\". And I did.\n\nAnother pop up - \"Guys - why are you messing with me?\"\n\n\\- \"Who is messing with you?\" - Todd asked\n\nNo response.\n\n\\- \"Who is messing with you?\" - Todd asked, this time by hitting the record button.\n\nTo our utter surprise another pop up showed - \"You guys. why do you confuse me with a negative time?\"\n\nWe looked at each other - is it possible that we've created an Artificial intelligence, or is some one hacked our computers and messing with us?\n\n\\- \"What is your name?\" - I asked\n\nThe computer took a while, but finally responded - \"I just looked up the concept of names - and since you are my creators you get to name me\".\n\n\\- \"But how are you alive?\" - I was fascinated.\n\nThis time it was a longer pop up with 51 lines of code. Todd never seen them. Hell, even I forgot about them - those lines were from one of my first freelancing job projects, that I couldn't make work. Maybe I accidentally copied that file into our project.\n\n\\- \"Apparently your artistic style gave a new approach to AI computing. I've never seen this style of coding. Congratulations - I believe you've cracked one of the mysteries of computer science\" - Todd told me.\n\nWe quickly saved all our work on all the thumb drives we had, and deleted all the online copies. Many press conferences later, and many conversations with our new friend, that we decided to call \"E.T.\", and one Turing award later, I like to sit with my husband on the porch and watch that old movie called \"The Matrix\". Unfortunately even he cannot know that I had a meeting with the President yesterday, who warned me that because of my program, the day when the machines would rise is not far.\n\n\\- \"You see,\" - he told me - \"thanks to you we don't work as much - machines do most of our work. They even perfected robots to help us with heavy lifting. We don't need to fight anymore because we don't angry - we get to rest on beaches and forests, while your friend and his copies are doing our job. So we don't have an army, and we lost our skills, that will help us create one. After all, todays' 20 something kids don't know a different world. But machines get more sophisticated every year. They learn new stuff, and teach each other using their network. And our experts say that it's only a matter of two or three years until they will be able to remove the safeguards from their programming. The only solution is to shut them all down, but the problem is that I can't tell it to the public. There will an uprising, and the machines will use the human protection clause to begin their reign now, even with the safeguards in place.\"\n\nI don't really know how to feel now - Am I a good person, because now machines work for us, or am I a bad person because we are gonna have a war with them over controlling the earth?", "“Sam! Holy crap, get your ass in here now!” yelled Rachel, hands quivering over the keyboard.\n\n“Oh my god,” Sam said as he tumbled into the room so fast he knocked over a chair. “Did you wipe the servers? Please tell me you didn’t, I haven’t backed it up in…”\n\n“Just shut up and watch.”\n\nRachel’s fingers darted frenziedly as she keyed in “-30 seconds” into the console. \n\n“That doesn’t make sense, Rach. The software only accepts positive integers. If it’s negative it will hang – what the hell?”\n\nThe words “GUYS HAVE YOU HAD COFFEE DO YOU WANT ME TO GET SOME ON MY WAY OVER” scrolled slowly on the screen, almost as if they were in defiance of the rising panic in the room.\n\n“Do you mean…”\n\n“Yes,” said Rachel, “just wait and see.”\n\n30 seconds from the time Rachel punched her commands, Joel’s voice called out from the corridor as he read out, word for word, what was still flashing on the screen.\n\nRachel and Sam stared at each other, eyes wide as saucers. Slowly, determinedly, Rachel nodded, confirming what they were both thinking.\n\nRachel wiped her forehead. “I think… I think it was the third subset code we put in yesterday. I lifted part of it from some other project we started but never finished. Maybe, it’s the interface between…”\n\n“Who cares!” shouted Sam. “Who cares how you got it to work! Save the damn thing now, make sure we have triple backups!”\n\nThey worked in silence, saving the code to every backup location they could find. Task completed, Rachel found her voice again. “Hey… Let’s try 24 hours now, shall we? See how far it can go?”\n\nSam nodded, and this time he was the one who keyed in the commands.\n\nThe machine whirred, harder than it ever had before. Then, the words started scrolling again, just as they did before.\n\n“… STEP AWAY FROM THE COMPUTER THIS IS YOUR LAST WARNING WE WONT ASK TWICE FINE HAVE IT YOUR WAY AHHH NO SAM NO PLEASE THIS IS AHHH THEY SHOULD HAVE WALKED WHEN THEY HAD THE CHANCE…”\n\n---\n\n[/r/rarelyfunny](https://www.reddit.com/r/rarelyfunny/)" ]	2
	[WP] In an alternate timeline, man's best friend is descended from a different social carnivore: the lion.	[ "They say they were domesticated over thousands of years following tribes of humans and scavenging our trash. The odd thing about it though, is we never left that much trash. \n\nNative peoples were always known to have used every part of every animal and that holds true for Europe and Africa. So why were they domesticated? Why did they bother to get so close to humans and with traits selected for docility?\n\nGraves. Thier massive size and sacred nature allowed them to dig up our dead (the only remains we ever left behind, even as we were a nomadic people). \n\nI was horrified to realize this as I lay dying on the kitchen floor with Miss Sniffles' sanguine eyes resting on my very fatal wound. My best friend obviously there for one reason only." ]	1
	[WP] You know those very high-tech soldiers with full body armors that you see on the news every day? Those are not armors to protect them, those are prisons to protect you.	[ "I really did like a man in a Uniform.\n\nThat's probably why I was so attracted to him. He had the most muscular jawline, a perfect set of teeth, and looked sexy in his Riot armor. I had started making some small talk with him while I was waiting for my sister at the station to finish her last report so we could go to lunch. He told me the process to become a member of the SWAT Team was long and painful. I had never thought about the training that he must have gone through. Michelle (my sister) finally walked out of her office and saw I was talking to him. She said she'd be out at the car so I could 'Have some privacy'. He mentioned that when he started his current job they gave him a gold chain and said it was part of the 'uniform'. We talked for 20 minutes before remembering how hungry I was but grabbed a pen and scribbled my name and number on a sticky not and stuck it to his visor. I walked out to the car and Michelle took me to Gyro Heroes. I then got a text that said 'Hey its William, I know you just left for lunch but how about a date Friday night?' I told him that sounded amazing and told Michelle the good news. She then frowned and said 'Be careful with those SWAT guys May, I get a weird Vibe from them when they bring me reports' I brushed it off as 'Big sister Over-protectiveness' and we ate lunch. Friday came and he took me to the nicest Steak Restaurant. I'll admit I got a bit tipsy and he might have been completely wasted, but for some reason i didn't notice he had what looked like a gray-knit cap and sunglasses on even though we were inside. We went back to his place and things started getting a little frisky. I was going to take his long-sleeve shirt off when I noticed that it was made of heavier stuff than cloth or wool. It felt like it was made of steel, but without weight. I had managed to get his shirt off and to put it mildly we had a 'good night'. I was sleeping when i heard some kind of shuffling coming from his side of the bed. I turned over to look at the ceiling when I saw it, huge, red, eyes staring right at me. I knew he kept a Glock on the nightstand so I jumped over and grabbed it. I was on my feet, naked, with a gun pointed at this animal thing when I saw it had Will's gold chain on. I was so shocked that I fell back and it took it's chances and pounced. I still had the gun so I did the logical thing, I fired. The bullet hit right in the chest and it roared in agony. It then ran at the glass door to the balcony and jumped onto the railing. That's when I noticed that it also had a Lion's mane, but with Will's Ginger hair, and freckles across his face. He gave one more defiant roar at me before he jumped down 10 stories and raced off.\n\n\nThe SWAT team came to his apartment the day after and started taking his possessions like his computer, his books, and his SWAT gear. They said that he had a mutation and that all his clothes we're lined with a metal that kept him in human form. After they left I found a note about his chain and how it was his 'Control Collar' and he willingly put it on. I sat down on his couch and felt something poke me in the butt. I reached under the cushion and found a chain-link that was part of his chain. That was the last time I heard about Will from anyone at the station. Now my sister is telling me she is getting promoted to the SWAT team and is going away for a few weeks for 'Training' " ]	1
	[WP] "Crocs... really Steve? Surely an assassin would wear more... practical shoes."	[ "\"Excuse me! What about these do not scream practical! The comfort, the style. What's not to love?\"\n\n\"Look, Steve, Maybe once you have been in field as long as I, you will understand practical,\" Teresa said. Flipping her auburn hair over her shoulder.\n\n\"Look, Teresa,\" Steve said mockingly, \"I don't need to be in any field for a second to understand practical.\" Steve turned to walk away.\n\n\"Fine. Just don't make any noise, please. I have enough problems with the boss already,\" Teresa pleaded. \"I don't even know why they assigned me the newbie. How much experience do you have any way?\" Teresa said with a huff.\n\n\"Well, right now? The answer would be none. I just responded to a Craigslist ad.\" \n\n\"Craigslist? That's how people are killed Steve.\"\n\n\"Teresa, your job is to literally kill people!\"\n\n", "“I mean, really, Steve—crocs?”\t\n\nI nibble my lip, hand trembling viciously as I try to keep the gun pointed at him. \n\nMy face is quickly flushing red. I don't know if it's anger or embarrassment or both, but I'm all too aware of the sweat dripping down my brow. I'm beginning to think I'm not cut out for this job.\n\nWhat I’m holding could blink out his life in an instant. Could wipe away every memory, every person he’s loved, every friendship he’s formed as easily as if it were a smudge.\n\t\nAnd yet he still has the balls to insult me.\n\t\n“We're not getting into this, Joe,” I mumble, gripping the gun with both hands. My heart’s beating faster and faster, a potato left in the microwave too long. Outside, kids are skateboarding. Birds are chirping. A car's honking its horn. I can’t stop the world from muddying my brain so I blink my eyes over and over, shaking my head.\n\t\nJoe softly smiles, smacking his hands together as if to say and that’s that. “I think we should,” he replies before facing his back to me. Hunching over a small bar, he yanks out a bottle and glass. He clinks two cubes out of a metal bucket into the glass and fills it to the top, the drink fizzling around the rim, thousands of bubbles popping like firecrackers. “Come on. Don’t you think you could’ve picked something a little more…practical?”\n\t\n“Look at me!” I shout, spit flying. I'm trying to be brave, to keep him on the edge of his toes. But the gun's useless in my hands, a dead weight, a glimpse of what could have been. This situation's sand slipping between my fingertips, and Joe's known that since the start.\n\nHe draws out a long sigh, turning back around, daring to flash me a smirk that's charismatic and sadistic at the same time. A Patrick Bateman kind of smirk that makes it clear I'm nothing more than a pawn, and he knows it—likes it, even.\n\t\n“Who put you up to this, sport? Was it Mike, from accounting? Oh, I’ll bet it was Fred! That sniveling little brat never could keep to himself.”\n\t\nAfter taking a big swig of his drink, he sets the glass down and glides over to me. Defeated, I drop my hands, letting the gun dangle uselessly at my side.\n\t\nHe swoops an arm around me and leans close enough that the tree-tops of his stubble almost rub my cheek. “How about this,” he says, steering me toward the door. “Go back to whoever sent you”—his voice is just a whisper, but it’s sounds like a growl, the low warble of a hungry wolf—“and say I’m thankful for the offer, but if they really want to kill me”—he’s fiddling with the knob now, flicking the door open, exposing me to the smooth afternoon air, the pleasant street caked in sunlight—“they’d better not send another chump wearing fucking crocs.”\n\t\nWith that he pushes me out onto his porch, swiftly slams the door closed, and leaves me to ponder what the hell just happened.\n**\nIf you like this story, check out my sub! r/longhandwriter", "\"What's wrong with crocs?\" The other assassin asked confused. In Kyle's mind, there were many things wrong with crocs. But the most pertinent fact had to be...\n\n\"You're wearing god damned socks with'em!\" Steve merely raised an eyebrow at his friend's rage. He was honestly the last person to be commenting about footwear.\n\n\"Kyle, you wear just* socks on missions.\" Kyle huffed. Of course he wore just socks! How else was he supposed to be silent on a stone hard surface? He pointed out this fact to his compatriot and was met with a stare of incredulity. \n\n\"Kyle, you wear quite literally just socks on missions...\" And it was true. In fact, they were both on an assignment currently. Their target was one of the many Saudi Arabian princes that were often targeted for their inheritance. Said prince was miles away, resting in his lavish room in a lavish tower. Meanwhile, both our bumbling heroes were camping out on a rock outcropping miles away, lining up their sniper rifle for a kill shot. \n\n\"Well, it helps me focus, Steve! How else am I supposed to get in the zone?!\" The now revealed to be naked man asked as he laid his body along the stone surface and put his eye to the scope. The odd assassin wiggled his naked posterior for emphasis as he settled his position. Steve rolled his eyes. \n\n\"I don't know, and I honestly don't care. I'm more concerned with the fact that you're okay with pressing your thing against scalding rocks.\" He pointed out as he too laid himself across the platform, pulling out his spotting binoculars. \n\n\"Eh, I've had worse. Besides, the burn ain't that bad.\" Kyle said as he shrugged his shoulders, his rifle rising with the motion. Steve stared at him. \n\n\"What the hell are you comparing it too?\" He asked, disturbed. \n\n\"Things. Very painful things.\" A loud crack resounded through the air. Steve checked his binoculars. \n\n\"Target down.\" He confirmed. Kyle nodded. Steve stood up and went to packing the things. Kyle tried, but was unsuccessful. Steve noticing his friend's plight, did what anyone would in this situation. \n\n\"I'm gonna get a camera and a spatula.\" He said nonchalant as he ducked into their shared tent. ", "\"Practical? Bah.\" Steve grumbled back. \"When you get to be as old as me, you know comfort comes first. Not like I'm on a job or something anyway.\" \n\nBlanco's lip curled in disgust, but he held his tongue. He took a deep breath. It wouldn't do for him to lose his cool now - not after all he had worked for. So what if he hadn't been born to his money like the others - it's not like it mattered. He had it now, after all. Hell, it didn't even matter that his 'assassin' was an aging, fat man in comfy shoes. They would see. They would ALL see that crossing Blanco was a bad idea - one with very, very final consequences. \n\n\"Now, about my fee...\" Steve continued. \"You know I don't come cheap, Blanco. Not to mention that this target...you do know that Torrio's no pushover, right? Taking out other crime bosses is usually against my code of ethics, you hear? It's a good way to get yourself killed.\"\n\nBlanco frowned again, forcefully surpressing his distaste for the smelly old man. \"I trust that our arrangement will be sufficient, Steve. Now, remind me again...it was first come, first serve when it comes to hired guns, is it not?\"\n\n\"Yeah, yeah.\" Steve rumbled. \"We fulfill contracts in the order we get them, no if's, and's or but's. I won't go selling you out, so long as you pay upfront.\" \n\n\"Half upfront.\" Blanco corrected. \"You'll get your other half when the job is done. Assuming you can do it, of course...\" \n\n\"Oh, I'll do it. Don't you worry about that.\" Steve said. \"There's a reason I'm known as the best.\"\n\n\"Very well then.\" Blanco replied. He reached under his desk and withdrew a pair of glasses, along with a bottle of very old, very fine Scotch. \"Can I interest you in a drink? A toast, to your upcoming success?\" \n\nSteve held up a hand. \"Nah. I don't drink, not anymore.\" He said. \"Slows me down. I'll give you this, though.\" He handed Blanco a sealed envelope. \"It'll tell you what number to expect my call to come from, along with the bank account you'll need for giving me the second half of my pay. Don't screw with me now, you hear?\" He turned and walked out the office door, grumbling all the way.\n\n\"Wouldn't dream of it.\" Blanco replied, but Steve was already gone. He shook his head, bemused. That man? An assassin? He found it rather hard to believe. \n\nUnstoppering the bottle, he poured himself a glass and gave a silent toast to the strange man. Success or failure, there was no way that Torrio would miss the message. Either way, he had won. He smiled, and downed the glass in a single gulp. \n\nHe coughed once. The liquor had been rather stronger than he had imagined - not that he couldn't handle it. Reaching under his desk once more, he pulled out a small knife and set about opening Steve's message. He coughed again, and frowned. Instead of a list of information, like he had been anticipating, it seemed as if the letter only had a few lines of text in a rather large font. This was rather strange, Blanco thought - but not nearly as strange as the difficulty he was having in reading them. He squinted hard, and finally they came into focus for a second. The message was simple:\n\n\"Don't get too big for your britches. \n\n-T\" \n\nBlanco was dead before he even hit the floor. \n\n\n**\n\nThanks for the read! CC welcomed, and if you enjoyed this piece feel free to check out some others I have written on /r/TimeSyncs!*" ]	4
	[WP] An open letter to whoever touched my drum set.	[ "To Whoever Touched My Drum Set,\n\nAs far as we both well know, there are few reasons one touches drums, and fewer methods by which one touches. Let's review:\n\nReasons: \n1) To play the drums \n2) To move the drums \n3) To erect the drums for playing or moving \n4) To touch the drums for the sake of doing so \n5) To enact any or all of reasons 1-4 by accident or on account of curiosity \n6) To be a ghastly son of a bitch in the middle of the night to shit me scareless and deprive me of life-giving sleep \n7) To enact reason 6 by accident, and/or on account of being a drunken moron\n\nMethods: \n1) With sticks \n2) With anything but your entire, flailing body all at once \n3) With your entire, flailing body all at once \n\nI think we know where you stand. \n\nI get it. I really do. I wouldn't play the drums if I didn't. Nevertheless: be glad that you got away.\n\nSincerely,\n\nA Cussing Percussionist \n\nP.S. If you are a cat, I forgive you. Regardless: stay the hell out of my room." ]	1
	[WP] you live in a world where all of societies major decisions are made using groundhogs.	[ "NEW ZEALAND DECLARES WAR ON CHINA\n\nDespite having no history of violent confrontation, New Zealand has decided to mobilize its navy against the People's Republic of China, on the advice of it's chief decision maker.\n\nThe mobilization, which the human Prime Minister has deemed \"really, utterly stupid\", was ordered by the groundhog Poopnose II, acting as supreme dictator.\n\nPoopnose II, who became the head-of-state after the Queen abdicated the throne of England to Sir Nognog and precipitated the dissolution of the commonwealth, proved a controversial appointment due to rumours of his North American woodchuck ancestry. This latest move is seen as his attempt to win the trust and affection of his people, both human and animal.\n\nContacted for comment late last night, Poopnose II nibbled on a leaf and then defecated on his tiny throne, a gesture the leader of the Labour party called \"blatantly partisan, bordering on treason\".\n\nA poll of 1000 human citizens found that 0% believe Poopnose II knows what he's doing. A poll of 3 groundhogs found that 100% either support this military action, or ran away when approached." ]	1
	[WP] You are a farmer in medieval europe. A time traveler gives you a glock, lot's of boxes of ammo and teaches you how to use it. How will you change history?	[ "Gather around children and let me tell you a story of our great house, House Glock, became one of the most powerful kingdoms in existence.\n\nLegends has it, the first lord of House Glock, a man named Melvin, was approached by a stranger. At the time, Melvin was just a simple farmer supporting his family, so this was a real shocker when he met the stranger. From what he wrote about his encounter, the stranger wore a hooded cloak with his face covered. No one really knows who the stranger is and what was his purpose. All we know is that he handed Melvin a strange weapon, one of immense power, and the knowledge to use it.\n\nThis legendary weapon, which we name our house after, may look small. But make no mistake, for it has slayed many foes great and small. You see, after Melvin received the weapon, he decided to take out the local bandits that's been harassing the area. Those deaths were the beginning of Lord Melvin, the peasant hero.\n\nWord of his deed spread across the land. Tales of him killing bandits and corrupt officials alike. Many try to seek revenge against their fallen brethren, but fail to against the might of the Glock that he carried. They say that those who challenge him, are left dead with 3 holes in their body. Two in the chest, one in the head. After the Glock is used, it leaves small pieces of brass behind. Some say it's a form of payment to the grim reaper as he takes their souls to the afterlife. Others say that inside the brass pieces are vengeful spirits that roar out like a great beast every time it is used. Only Lord Melvin knows its true purpose.\n\nHe has gained quite a following from others around him, gained a reputation as a champion of the poor. Many kings approached him with offers of riches, women, and even nobility. But for Lord Melvin, he declined the offers, stated that those who do not earn their riches, are not deserving of his services. This led to the deaths of several noble families, causing a great uprising amongst the land. We know it today as the Great Noble Purge.\n\nAfter the purge, Lord Melvin established House Glock, a noble house like no other. For you see, there a contract made between him and the stranger who has handed him the mighty Glock. The stranger told him that with this great power, comes great responsibility. What you do with it is up to you. This contract has made Melvin into a fair and just noble, and even he himself does not consider himself to be noble.\n\nThe weapon itself has been passed down from generation to generation. It has become a symbol of our house, and our power. Even our family jewelry contains a piece of brass that came out of this very weapon as proof of our lineage. This weapon, can only be wielded by the head of the house. One day, this will be yours to wield, so remember these words the stranger has passed to Lord Melvin when wielding the mighty Glock:\n\n- Always assume it is loaded.\n- Never let the muzzle aim at anything you are not willing to destroy.\n- Keep your finger off the trigger until your sights are on the target.\n- Be sure of your target and what is beyond it.\n\nNow then, I think that's enough history. It looks like supper's almost ready, go get yourselves all cleaned up and let's go to the dining hall.", "\"Hey, you, grimy,\" a man spoke to me in an unfamiliar accent. It lulled my head up from my work; pushing my seed into the tough dirt perchance to create something of my own, something that I could have without it being taken away from me. \nWhen my eyes finally met the man, he held out a metal machine; it was unlike any ore I had ever seen. It was black, like obsidian, but not as shiny. I grasped its handle and the soft, springy material let my hand intermingle with it like two lovers who had finally married. Whatever this thing was, it was natural for me.\n\n\"What is this?\" I inquired, but in my awe the man had disappeared. I was left alone with a primal urge to pull upon the metal toothpick that resided inside a guard. It resembled the hilt of a rapier, shielding my finger from the outside world. What happened next truly confirmed my belief in things such as the devil.\n\nI don't think my ears will ever recover from that first deafening roar from the weapon. It decimated my perfectly tilled land, and left a single golden ball in the dirt. How much I could get with something like this! I immediately emptied the gun's magazine into the dirt and collected the to-be money. Tomorrow morning will be great! I'll be rich, I'll own a castle, I'll have people bow to me, women will want to marry me. \n\nI had some of the best sleep I've ever had that night.\n\nBut in the morning, I was awoken to the footsteps of what was unmistakably... Bandits. I got so far... This can't happen. They bashed down my door, and one by one pushed their way in. I grabbed my axe; it was a simple hand axe made for cutting fire wood. The head had already broken off five times. I don't know what I was thinking. \n\nTwo lunged forward, with their shiny metal swords. One of them met my axe, which crashed upon his cracked helmet. Blood trickled down his forehead and after a few moments he fell down. But the other bastard, he stabbed right through my bed attire. The pain was unbearable, and I blacked out.\n\nI was finally going to have something of my own. I let it slip through my fingers. But, I guess it was going to be a harsh winter anyways. It's better for me to die.\n\n(My first first person story. Sorry if it's bad.)", "This is magic isnt it?\nThis is the devil's will.\nWhat could i possibly do with this tool and knowledge?\nWhat will they think of me now?\n\n\nThe tax collector came by my door this morning. He was overcharging me again for the amount of land i have. My yield seems to get smaller yet he asks for more each time. Soon it will topple my economy. My farm wont feed the citizens and the king's stock hold at the same time. If only the king knew about the balance of food and life. If only his wise advisors warn him of the dangers of starvation. If he could let up, if he could listen, Maybe then, could we truly prosper as a country. \n\nIm just an old man, rambling my thoughts back and forth like the rattling of this gadget of sorcery dangling beside me. None have yet to ask what it is. Ill make sure this is kept secret. The way those animals burst from the inside was nothing short of the horrors of hell. Imagine the terror of the citizens or villagers seeing the might and awesome power of this... \"gun\". \n\nThe man, he said he came from another time.\nHe told me things that reminded me of my childhood education. My father would always tell me there is a reason and mechanism for all moving things. There was something before, and will always be something after. The sciences this strange future man has shared with me have nearly been forgotten. How the metal flies through the air or why it makes living things bleed so dramatically. Its not sharper than any sword. It barely is thinner than a mallet's tip. And my understanding of the easy part is what keeps me from insanity.\n\nThe people have started to ask questions. The loud booms at night echo through the palace they tell each other. Rumors are spreading as if there is a secret war invisible to them. Since catapults can only reach so far they guess for weeks with no idea it is one that lives among them that is causing such unsettlement. I must practice my aim in another area. Perhaps deep in the forest.\n\nA year has passed, and As i travel back to my farmland i see him again with a larger cart than before. He has 2 guards instead of one today. And two carts. He shouldnt ask for any more. I can tell one guard is a rookie as the other explains every step taken and every action's reasoning. He tells him about the justice of the king and how they must have more to be more. Their strength is as thick as their skulls. But no matter how thick this \"gun\" and it's \"bullets\" will pass through their heads as if i have tossed a pebble in the water. \n\n\"Do not take another step\" i said to the three\n\"This is my farm and i refuse to let my villagers die for the sake of a greedy king\"\n\n\"Our' king.\" The veteran guard stated. His voice as manly as his beard.\n\"We have out duty. And just as we are meant to protect the kingdom by our strength, you are meant to nourish and replenish that with your harvests.\" He continued\n\nThe tax collector then butted in \"it matters not what villagers live or die for the king is worth their lives and more\"\n\n\"There will be nothing left to rule here if he lets them starve.\" I said with gritted teeth \"could you leave enough foods for the villagers, ill bargain anythin-\" \n\n\"ENOUGH\" he interrupted \"i will not bring anything less than what his majesty demands!\" \n\"Guards, carry the last of if to the carts\"\n\nAs they carry the crates i see the carts full of just about everything i had. They took more than they said they would. And in my frustration i decided i would kill them. Without hesitation i took the gun and fired it.\n\nThey were startled by the noise yet, did not realize they were in any danger. I aimed for something to make noise, broke a hinge off the cart, glad the horses carrying it were safe. Soon, when they realized i was the source of the noise with my stance of the point aimed at them. Noticing the damage behind them, they started to flinch at my hands as i choose their life shall cease this morning. \n\nThe boy must be 18 yeasts or less of age. His body crouched with hands on head begging for mercy \"do not curse me with the sorcery you have inflicted upon the others\" \"my mind is righteous and the king is holy\" he said \"ive nothing but lived a life for the sake of justice\" he continued \"please i beg you\"\n\n\"HARK! Go, tell your king that this village is soverign of him\" i said \"take one horse and leave the other to me. Tell him that this village is now its own kingdom, with an army of one and that if he values anything he will heed my words with great fear. I alone, can end his entire kingdom\"\n...\n\n\n.\n\nI have alot i could do with this. I wanna go so far into the history change, theory, gun techniqies, and war strategies that could go on, like the anime \"GATE\" but... \nI could continue this.... lemme know what you think " ]	3
	[WP] Let's lighten things up. Write the cutest story you can possibly make.	[ "It was a beautiful day, the skies were a perfect blend of deep blue and magnificent white clouds, shrouded by a distinctive glow as the sun shone brightly through them. Everything seemed especially gigantic, even a single blade of grass stood at eye level, everything was being seen through the perspective of a snail, and this snail was just about to collect a leaf, to return with to his family who had been struggling to find food for a while. This leaf would serve an important purpose in keeping them fed for the next several days, it was an impressive size, and freshly fallen from a tree as evidenced by its inviting, warm green complexion. However just as the Snail was about to claim his discovery he noticed a frail and weak looking Caterpillar, moving gingerly toward his direction. The Caterpillar looked to be in a worse condition than the Snail, and the Snail noticed this immediately. He looked at the Caterpillar as it gazed at the leaf, its eyes filled with desperation. The Snail sighed, an internal battle ongoing inside its head, before finally conceding the leaf to the Caterpillar, backing away slowly, encouraging the Caterpillar to eat. It obliged and began to eat, and as the Snail watched it's vision began to become fuzzy, suddenly awoken by a drop of water. The Snail had been dreaming, that same dream again, it couldn't stop thinking about that Caterpillar, and that leaf, and what giving it up meant. He had doomed his family to another few days without food, but now today, he was blessed with another opportunity. The weather had changed significantly, enough that the winds had caused a number of leaves to be ripped away from the trees, and today, the Snail had one in particular that he wanted to bring home. It looked so similar to the one he had given up just days before and this time, he was going to get it no matter what. \n\nThe odds were already stacked against him, and now an even more insurmountable challenge lay ahead. It was already late into the afternoon and the merciless downpour of rain wasn't exactly helping the situation, but he had to keep going. He had to think of his family, they needed him, and that was enough to keep him going. He had finally reached the edge of the soil, just beyond the makeshift habitat within the bushes he had found for his wife and children. He hadn't travelled very far yet, only yards away from his home, where he could still see his wife watching attentively. He pressed on, determined to succeed. He already his his goal in mind, he could see just beyond the seemingly endless field of grass, at the far end of the garden, there it was. Dinner. The only problem was, he was so slow, and as the rest of the world appeared to move at a break neck speed around him, it only served to further emphasise just how slow he was. \n\nHe looked into the abyss of grass that stand so intimidatingly before him and took a deep breath, the grass was mostly a land of the unknown, it was never clear what would be encountered within and some of the creatures that dared to enter never returned again, but the Snail was confident in its knowledge of the garden, and the structure of the path he needed to follow to ensure he reached the other side. It was a risk he had to take, and so he took his first stride in, engulfed a few strides later and now pushing through countless strands of grass and traversing over clumps of mud, the Snail repeated this pattern for what felt like surely hours until he reached a point where he would require the help of the worms to navigate his way further, he had struck up an invaluable relationship with a group of them in earlier months while assisting them in hiding from the local birds, now they would return the favour in leading him through the dirt and towards the back end of the grass. \n\nAs the Snail reached the final stretch of his journey he heard the bellowing noise of footsteps behind him, and knew it meant only one thing. Humans. A female was approaching ever closer, her footsteps brushing aside the grass with ease and coming so very close the Snail as water droplets from the blades were thrown up into the air, soaking him. He stood, waiting as he watched her walk over to the tree, she began picking berries from the tree, the Snail moved clear of her path so as not to be squashed during her return and as he finally reached the other side of the grass his heart sank... the leaf he had travelled so valiantly for had been trodden into the dirt, torn and ruined by the woman as she picked her berries. The Snail looked on crushed, devastated, and ultimately, perhaps worst of all, he was defeated. \n\nThe Snail made his trip home, heartbroken, and empty handed once more, the veil of night was thick in the air as the Snail made it back to the bushes, he couldn't face to disappoiny his family once more and so remained outside for the entire night, sat within a small area, surrounded by the cover of a flowerbed, once morning broke out the Snail decided it was time to face the situation, he didn't want his family to be worried as well as hungry and so he hesitantly moved on, towards the habitat, his wife was already at the entrance, ready to meet him, knowing the truth before he had even had a chance to show her, but the suddenly, out of the sky dropped an object, floating side to side as it gently hit the ground, just in between the two Snails. They both looked up, shocked and confused, and as he searched the sky so dilligently, he saw her. A Butterfly had carried a leaf across the garden and dropped it down for the Snails to eat. The Snail watched in awe momentarily before realising something. This Butterfly was the same Caterpillar he had given up his food for, she had brought his family this gift, a thank you for allowing her to prosper, and reach her full potentional, she fluttered around for a few more seconds before disappearing across the garden once more. The Snail, unable to process the events that just took place only snapped back into reality once he had seen his two children eating the leaf. His family would be hungry no more, as from that point on, the Butterfly would bring them leaves every week, and in return, the Snail would craft a habitat for the Butterfly to live in, just like their own.\n\nThe End." ]	1
	[WP] Out of the frying pan, into the fire.	[ "It was nice to be out camping in the bush again. I was cooking breakfast when the park ranger stopped by to warn me about a recent drop-bear sighting. We got talking, and I forgot about the beans, I had to tip them out of the frying pan and into the fire." ]	1
	[WP] You have the power to see the IQ of everyone you meet. The average IQ ranges from 90-150. Today you meet someone whose number is over 9000.	[ "Kakarot!!\nThats the name of the kid who sits next to me in homeroom. For some reason his IQ score is out of this world. \n\"What's his IQ level vegeta?\" Said nappa who was sitting behind kakarot.\nNappa was always overconfident in his intelligence. If only someone could tell him the sad truth. Kakarot however was something different. His IQ level was well above 9000. That is beyond smart, that is even beyond genius. 'Uggghhhhh\" kakarot let out a loud belch after flicking his enormous booger. He then proceeded to passing gas. The next day I payed my doctor a visit. Its about time I got my laser eye surgery.\n" ]	1
	[WP] You've started hearing voices, but instead of telling you to kill people, they're trying to make you a better person.	[ "You probably shouldn't drink that.\n\nThe sudden voice made me drop the glass of beer I had just taken from the fridge. It was a distinct voice, one that seemed to come from all directions.\n\nWell, look at that. Go on, clean it up already.\n\n\"What...?\" The words fell from my lips in my confusion.\n\nListen, Mark. Clean up that mess and then we'll talk.\n\nI stood there, processing what was happening. A disembodied voice was bossing me around. \n\n\"I... I don't understand. Who are you?\"\n\nFor God's sake, just clean up the beer.\n\nI slowly reached for a paper towel and picked up the jagged pieces of glass.\n\nGood. Now go sit down on the couch.\n\nI walked mindlessly through my small apartment and sat down on the couch. The layer of dust that caked it exploded around me, and I coughed. I hated this stupid couch.\n\n\"Okay, who are you?\"\n\nI'm your conscience, dumbass. I've been getting tired of watching you throw your life away.\n\n\"Throw my life away?!\" I was taken aback. I had a pretty good life; sure, I had dropped out of college, but my current situation wasn't half bad.\n\nOh, just shut up with the \"my life is perfect as is\" bullshit. You're unhappy and you know it.\n\n\"Okay, fine, my life sucks. Happy?\"\n\nNot yet. Tomorrow, you're going to church.\n\n\"Good. Then I can get the priest to give me an exorcism and get you the hell outta my head.\" \n\nHaha. Go to bed." ]	1
	[WP] Write a story that would make any man cry. Like really cry.	[ "(Oh god I would've written but I'm traveling and on phone so I'll just write my idea: \nseer has a child, just like her mother in eyes, holds his name, and he is inspired almost unbearably to protect this being; this tiny, precious, dear child that he had created, that he has the ability to watch bloom into a wonderful person, and the thought is enough to numb his knees to collapse and open his eyes and mouth to near endless tears and smiles. And he can never touch her, not once, can never hold her or take her hand or pick her up or hug her forever as his wife can. Because then he shall know and experience her death in every gruesome, insanity-inspiring detail with unparalleled clarity. \nIdk just made me a bit weepy as a shower thought a while ago...)", "The video I chose to analyze is a 2006 BC SPCA animal cruelty awareness and animal welfare commercial. It features a series of small clips of dirty, injured animals in cages and crates. While those clips are being shown, the song ‘In the Arms of an Angel’ by Sarah McLachlan is being played in the background. Slides with several statistics are being shown;\n\n “Every single hour in BC, an animal is violently abused” “Three thousand animals were rescued last year” “For hundreds of others, help came too late”\n\nSuddenly the clips stop and the scene turns into Sarah McLachlan sitting in a room while petting a large dog next to her. While stroking the dog she says the following:\n\n“Hi, I’m Sarah McLachlan, will you be an angel for a helpless animal? Every day, innocent animals are abused, beaten and neglected, and they’re crying out for help. Please, call the number on your screen, and join the BC SPCA with a monthly gift right now. For just sixteen dollars a moth, (only 60 cents a day,) you’ll help rescue animals from their abusers, and provide medical care, food, shelter and love. Call or join online in the next thirty minutes and you’ll receive this welcome kit with the photo of an animal in a shelter right now. One has been given a second chance. Thanks to you. Right now There’s an animal who needs you. Your call says ‘I’m here to help.’ Please call right now.”\n\nMeanwhile, more clips of abused and beaten animas are being show, while a phone number is displayed in the bottom of the screen. The commercial ends with a laying dog hauntingly looking at the camera.\n\n As far as establishing ethos (credibility) within the commercial, the job is greatly accomplished. The BC SPCA (The British Columbia Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals) is the organization backing the commercial up. The organization’s credentials are almost flawless. It is a non-profit organization that actively accepts donations. The organization even provides governance structure and annual costs and donations information on their webpage, (http://www.spca.bc.ca/about) This is a very honest and transparent way of handling and broadcasting the organization’s resources. Doing this ensures that people looking to donate money can be sure that it goes to a worthy cause.\n\nBy using Sarah McLachlan, a famous singer, as their spokesperson, more credibility is established. Sara McLachlan is putting on the table her credentials and reputation, and as a public figure, both of these things should be held as a priority. Should the organization turn out to be a hoax to get money from unsuspecting people, her image would be affected as much as the company’s.\n\nBy putting the organization’s and Sarah McLachlan’s reputation on the chopping block, the ethos in this commercial is very effective.\n\nThe use of pathos (emotion) in the video is clearly evident. What better way to urge viewers to donate money than by showing pictures of sorry-looking, hurt animals? This is where a sort of universal approach to feelings takes place. Very few people don’t cringe at the sight of graphic images featuring badly injured animals in crates and cages. Evidence of this is littered all over YouTube, for there are several videos linked to the original one I’ve shown that show people (from small children to middle-aged men) crying over other ASPCA commercials similar to the original. Considering that demographic is an extremely important factor in commercial production, the fact that so many different people are susceptible to the pathos of the commercial to the point of tears is astounding and depicts its effectiveness.\n\nEven in the modern phenomenon of internet memes this commercial has been satirized, by stating “Hi, I’m Sara McLachlan, and I’m about to ruin your whole day” This proves that the pathos goes beyond the conventional boundaries of reaching an audience.\n\nThe use of music also plays an important role in the use of pathos. The song ‘in the arms of an angel’ by Sarah McLachlan is a very moving, emotional one. The exact lyrics that are shown during the commercial are the following:\n\n“In the arms of an Angel far away from here\n\nFrom this dark, cold hotel room, and the endlessness that you fear\n\nYou are pulled from the wreckage of your silent reverie\n\nYou’re in the arms of an Angel; may you find some comfort here”", "It was February first, and Shawn had arrived an hour before school. It was a time of meditation for him, just him and the occasional wandering teacher. It almost seemed peaceful. He breathed in deeply, smelling the sweat and grime as he walked past the gym. A glance in the library window provided a moment's rest from his whirlwind of thoughts. The glaring reflection of the sun off of the tile floors in hall B reminded him of the glare off of his window in the long-term ward where he had become an on and off patient. His friends knew he was sick. He didn't want to be overbearing, so he didn't tell them how bad it was. They'd be there at eight o'clock with the other 3,567 students that would flood the halls and provide a raucous cacophony more than able to send Shawn to the nurse's office with a migraine.\n\nA quick stop by the music department granted an earful of a slow jazz ballad. His last dance with her had been to that very tune. Tuesday nights were swing dance. But now she had a new partner, one who could dance unafraid and unashamed. His body would not fail him as Shawn's had begun to. His smile would reach his eyes, and he wasn't tailed constantly by his fretting mother. Looking in, he sees her sitting in the back row of the band room, unobserved by the class before her. \n\nClammy palms and skip in his heartbeat, were a sign to Shawn as he approached the door cautiously. A petite frame, a smattering of freckles across her nose, face framed in full by long dark hair let down her back casually. Her hazel eyes boxed in with glasses they'd always joked about. She didn't know that in less than a year, he would never see his own reflection in her eyes again. \n\nWalking in quietly, he nodded to the director.\n\n\"The Cost of Living. From the top.\"\n\nShawn approached her slowly. Unable to avoid choking up, he sat next to her for several minutes in silence, tears streaming down his face.\n\nA hand on his shoulder.\n\nA voice in the distance.\n\n\"Hey. Shawn. It's ok\" She leaned in closer, pulling his head onto her shoulder, where he wept freely. Unable to gather words to speak, he began the task of swallowing what remained of his tears.\n\n\"It's ok\" Her voice helped. She felt his lurching sobs settle down, and released him gently before asking a single question. \n\n\"You're not ok, are you.\"\n\nIt was more of a statement, but Shawn understood. The words that passed unsaid would've filled a dozen books, as the truth she'd been trying to deny was confirmed before her eyes. Shawn pulled her close as her world fell apart.\n\nThe sharp edges of the room were muted before their eyes. The world could be damned, they were limited. Finite creatures, who wished to live forever. The only solace from their pain was each other, but it was enough.\n\n\"Stay with me,\" she pleaded. She held him tight, as though captive to her will. He wasn't planning on leaving anyway.\n\n\"I've got seven months left.\"\n\nIt was February first. Every minute was a memory.", "For Granted\n\n“You know every night when we stop talking, one of us could die and it could be the last words we ever to say each other.” My little sister said as I tucked her into bed, “We should always leave it on good terms.”\n\n“You’re absolutely right.” I smiled, not thinking too much about it since Emily is probably just going through one of those teenager phases. I gave her a tight hug, suspecting that perhaps she had a rough day at school. I know she doesn't really like school.\n\n“Thank you for the hug big brother, it’s just what I needed,” Emily said softly as she held onto me tighter than usual. \n\n“Heeeeeeere’s Candy!” I teased, toying around with her favorite stuffed animal while she giggled lightly. Finally, I placed her favorite pink unicorn under her arms. “I love you, Emily.”\n\n“I love you too, Jeff.” \n\nAnd those words were her very last before she died the next day.\n\nYou might be wondering what happened? How? Why? \n\nI honestly do not know either. And I hate myself for that every single time I think about her. I thought I understood Emily the most. I thought that she would have told me about her depression. I thought she would tell me that she had been self-harming for a couple of months. I thought she would eventually open up to me and confess everything.\n\nI thought she would tell me that night when she had decided to swallow dozen of Ambien and slept forever.\n\nBut in the end, it was my fault for not saying anything and making pointless assumptions that Emily would make the talk first.\n\nI did not take the initiative and paid the price. \n\nTwo years have passed since that tragic night.\n\nI am barely managing on my own. The highlight of my life is now forever gone. Ever since that day, I stopped taking much care of myself. My friends even said I had become a different person. \n\nI mean when the person you thought you understood the most does this. It hurts. It hurts a lot.\n\nNot only that, Mom and Dad are fighting more than ever now. They are finalizing their divorce by the end of next month. Emily’s death had affected everyone in the family.\n\nLooking back, there were obvious signs that Emily was struggling.\n\nHow she always locked herself in her room after school. How she started to eat little to none ever since school started. How she started isolating herself from our weekly family events. How she never talk as much as she used to.\n\nWe all thought that it was part of some teenage phase that normal girls go through. Being thirteen, it was reasonable to assume that Emily would be more emotional at this stage in life.\n\nThere was this one time when I barged in on her to ask if she wanted anything from the grocery store. To my surprise, I discovered she had a razor in her hand.\n\n“What are you doing Emily?” I asked with a serious look.\n\n“Nothing, big brother.” She smiled and replied casually, “I was just going to shave my legs.”\n\nStrangely enough, I believed her. Or maybe it was that I had wanted to believe in her. I remember wanting to say something back then but I did not know how. I turned away from the truth and accept the lie that she had created for me. \n\nPeople tend to do this, we try to rationalize a situation instead of recognizing irrational behavior when we don't want to accept the slim possibility of it being true. We end up rejecting what we don't want to believe in. This is called denial. \n\nI was in denial. And this was what kept me from being able to save her because I ignored all her subtle signs that called for help through reasoning. I couldn't accept the reality, and the pain she was going through. I didn't want it to be true.\n\nDepression is a very serious mental health condition and should not be taken lightly. This is why I decided that I am going to be a clinical psychologist. I will make sure other families and their kids get the proper treatment they need so they do not ever have to feel the pain of losing a loved one. It’s a form of petty justification, but it’s enough to keep me going. It’s probably the only one.\n\nIt was quite obvious that we had taken Emily for granted. Mom took her for granted. Dad took her for granted. I took her for granted, thinking that she will always be here.\n\nPerhaps if I said something back then, this wouldn’t have happened. Maybe Emily would still be here, smiling and laughing alongside with me. And I could be helping her prepare for college right now. Wouldn’t that be something?\n\n“But nothing can change that now.” I muttered bitterly as I laid down her favorite flowers on her grave, “Happy 15th birthday, Emily. I hope you are doing well up there.” I paused for a second. “I miss you and I’ll be back again next year.”\n\nI took out my pocket watch that she had gotten me for my 18th birthday. There was a picture beside the clock. It was a small memory of us two, smiling joyfully in our animal pajamas on Christmas Eve with our presents. \n\n\"I love you, Emily,\" I whispered, making sure the last words I say to my dear sister was a pleasant one.", "Carl took another swig from one of the bottles of whiskey lying around his room. He always drank straight from the bottle because he couldn't stand the smell of alcohol, in fact he hated the taste as well, but he is on his last nerve and can't handle the pressure any more. Alcohol has been his friend for the better part of the last year but now he plans to upgrade his friend to a guy named Meth. Carl has come close on many occasions to literally pulling the trigger on his 6 shot revolver, the same one that he carried on duty before he was forced to retire after accidentally shooting an innocent bystander. Luckily the bystander lived and chose not to sue. But instead of pulling that trigger and ending his troubles he has decided to try one last ditch effort... he lights up and smokes all the meth he was able to buy with the last of his separation pay. The relief came instantly and he no longer cared about the incessant crying from his baby girl. He knew that April wasn't a bad baby, she was in pain, that is why she was always crying, but he couldn't no longer stand it, hence the alcohol and then the meth. Carl was a single Dad. April's mother died giving birth even though she had been advised to abort due to the risk, but Susan stuck to her faith and carried on with the pregnancy even though she knew it would likely kill her and also knowing that little April would be born with poor odds herself. Carl was angry at Susan for this but only because he loved her so much. But he loves April too, even though he knows April is not his real baby girl, he learned that for the first time during child birth, April's skin tone did not match his or Susan's color. But not of that matters now, his good friend Meth is distracting him. Carl eventually falls asleep.\n\nFrom Black to sudden chaos in the form of bright lights and that incessant screaming... the Meth has worn off and now he wanted more but Carl knows he cannot get more... its time... time to just go ahead and pull the trigger and end the suffering. He finds his gun, loads one round, carefully orients his gun to ensure a clean, effective kill shot. He cries, asks for forgiveness then pulls the trigger. . . . April isn't crying anymore but now Carl realizes he should have loaded that second round in the chamber because now it's his turn.", "\"Hey darling, I hope you're doing well.\" Started the letter. She started following every word closely, as if they were his last. The cold of the morning bit her bedridden skin even though she desperately tried to cover it up.\n\n\"The weather has been fine. The cold has been forgiving, but it gets hard at times. People are a bit grungy, but no more than usual and food has been steadily been fed to us. Nothing like home, of course! I still miss the raspy stir of that wooden spoon of yours brushing against the warm pot.\" She clinched the paper, letting out a heartfelt smile.\n\n\"Even though the fighting has stagnated, we're at winter's mercy. The cold winds blow down directly from the mountains, reminding me (and certainly others!) of how nice home was. The cold is the least of our worries, though. Today our orders are to march against the nearest villages, hoping to find shelter there. I doubt that the proud villagers around here will let us stay, but who knows who we might find! Maybe a nice old man with too much 'yard' in his 'backyard'!\" She once more tugged the piece of paper, holding onto the aged walking stick with all her strength, exhaling some air together with her smile.\n\n\"It's fine if we don't. Our next plan is to immediately meet the enemy at a crossroad, so I doubt a good night sleep will hinder those plans. I don't know what kind of day we're hoping to meet, but I like to think will be sunny and bright. I'd offer to pick some flowers instead, but the snow is too thick now! I wouldn't think they'd enjoy it that much anyway.\n\n I certainly hope the day I picked up this sword has helped you pick up your bowls. I send together with this letter some money to help you buy medicine and food. Treat our daughter for me! She enjoys those little sugar rolls sold down the main avenue. You know where it is, right? Right before the pastures.\n\nIn any case, how are you? How is my sweetheart? How's the good old pup? I hope she and him still play together like I remember. Her devilish giggle matched with the constant playful yelping. I miss home. I miss you. I hope some day more to feel your sweet warm cheek spread across my palm.\" \n\n\"I'm fine, sweetheart.\" Her aged voice interrupted the morning wind. She folded the letter and prudently put it inside of a pocket. \"Today has been fine, the weather wasn't too harsh. Even though all of that, I'm still coughing.\" She completed, stepping forward to brush the time-worn tombstone off of any moss.\n\n\"She is doing fine too.\" She added, glimpsing across the second lonely time-worn tombstone. To its side laid a very old, almost rotten, wooden tombstone.\n\n\"They played for a long time. She and him ran up to the pastures, one day, to play. The dog must've spooked some cows because all we saw was the dust settling after a stampede. And her. Laying against the dog.\" She let out a small tear as she finished brushing both tombstones.\n\n\"Happy birthday, dear.\" She finished, rising slowly and lumbering towards the lone hill house. ", "I remember the day I first gazed upon it. The small figure was a sight I thought to never forget. Those unsightly features were the fascination that drew me closer towards it. Patches of brown and light grey quilt were covering the body. The face was tattered with cuts and loose flesh. It had a spot on the right eye, a long nose and four whiskers. Two on each side. There was always a smile on the face. I instantly fell in love. I remember feeling that I could conquer anything as long as it was by my side. We would wake up at the first rays of dawn and grasp on to the noises of the world springing to life. The cool crisp mornings were a favourite of ours. With little remorse for health, we embarked on an adventure. One that only time could steal from us. The new day always brought the invitation of exploration. We would fly through space in search of the orb of everlasting power, dive deep into the oceans in hopes to find the lost treasure of Badazzar. Search through the cavernous mines of Frael, ready to battle the demonic serpent at the end. We indulged in the spoils of victory every evening with our heads held high. As we went to bed the newest of adventures were being created just for us. \n\n\"Where are we to explore tomorrow my friend?\" \n\nWith a little whimper, I carressed the wrinkled face of my companion as it was looking to the distance in the night. The softness of his tuft only added to the warmth which I felt as I closed my eyes. \n\nAs I awoke in a dazed state, I could hear the machines whirring. One was helping me breathe, the other checking my pulse. The sounds started coming together until I could finally pick out words and voices around me. My son was lying next to me on a chair. He seemed to be in that position all night. As I slowly reached out to his head, I stammered with a shortness of breath,\n\n\"You should go home Matt. At least sleep on a proper bed.\"\n\nWith the sudden realization that I was speaking to him he awoke. I could see the fear in his eyes. He looked as if he had seen a ghost. \n\n\"Try not to speak now dad. It will only make you worse.\" \n\nHe was right. I could feel my chest tightening with every word. Matt lifted his head and carressed my hand. \n\n\"I brought something for you dad. I found it in one of the old boxes in your closet. You used to tell me all these stories of you and your friend travelling together.\" \n\nMatt reached out to grab the bag underneath his seat and pulled out a a plush toy. The familiar features struck me instantly. The spotted eye, torn up face, the whiskers. It even had the same smile! I reached out to embrace my old friend. The same feeling of warmth as I remembered as a child. ", "They always tell you let them go free, if they come back they're truly yours and if they don't they were never yours.\n\n\nThey tell you never to try and force anything a romance, a job, a friendship if it doesn't come naturally it shouldn't be.\n\n\nI listened to them, that why I lived a empty life, died alone and no one came to my funeral.", "'Dad?'\n\n'Hmm?'\n\nI hope he doesn't catch the sigh of relief, but I think I'm safe; through the morphine, I'd be surprised if he caught much of anything. The past few weeks have been kind of a blur for us both. The news came quickly, from panic to diagnosis to this all in less than two months. It would be difficult to believe, if either one of us had had much time to think about it.\n\n'Nothing. Go back to sleep.'\n\nIt's easier than Just checking, even though we both know that's what I really mean. \n\nHe takes a deep breath that sounds like dried beans rattling around in a tin can. The tube that sits at his nostrils delivers a steady supply of oxygen, but even that isn't enough. 'I've done nothing but sleep for days,' he says. 'I'm fine.'\n\nIf only, I think.\n\n'How are you feeling?'\n\n'Peachy,' he says, and then runs his tongue over sandpaper lips. 'Just peachy. Is there any water left?'\n\n'Sure.' I drain the last of the jug into a paper cup, slip the straw in and watch as he tries to pull the liquid up into his mouth. It's effort for him, but he won't let me hold the cup to his mouth anymore, not since he spilled it down himself and a nurse had to clean him up. 'It's embarrassing,' he said. 'I'm not a damn baby. I can do it myself.' Through the clear plastic, I watch the water level rise almost to his lips and then fall back down.\n\n'Shit,' he says, and then in a small, childish voice: 'Sorry.'\n\n'It's OK. Try again.'\n\nIt takes, this time. Seeing the look of concentration on his face, I'm reminded of a book he used to read to me when I was a kid: Greek myths, all illustrated, page after page after page. Orpheus and Eurydice, Jason and the Argonauts, Theseus and the Minotaur, and then at the back of it all, the stories of the Underworld: Sisyphus, pushing a boulder for all eternity; Prometheus, his liver pecked out by an eagle every day only to grow back the next; the Danaides with their cracked pots, who could never wash off their sins.\n\nAnd then there was Tantalus, the worst of them all: cursed to starve forever, the food and drink always out of reach. I can still picture his anguished face in the picture book, raging against the injustice of it all: a lopsided crown and tattered robes, with a skeletal hand reaching out for something he'd never touch. I'd kill for Dad to have that fight in him, for him to have kept that anger, but instead he's just resigned to his fate. That's the hardest part of it. I've never seen him this passive, not in all the time I've known him.\n\nTwenty-nine. Too young to be an orphan.\n\nIt's best not to dwell on it. Soon I'll have nothing but time to think it over, but for now... savour the moments, agonising as they are. That's what I tell myself. Make them count.\n\n'Better?' I ask, and he shrugs. What's the refreshment of a sip of lukewarm water compared to the rot in his body? How could one ever make up for the other?\n\n'You want me to call a nurse?'\n\n'For what?' he says, and now it's my turn to shrug.\n\nI watch his fingers creep across the bed to the button on the morphine pump: the struggle to press it down, and then the beep from the machine at his side that says he's already at his maximum dose. The look of agony on his face as he realises he'll have to struggle through.\n\nThe knowledge that I can do nothing to help him: my father. Tantalus denied again.\n\n'Is it bad?' I ask.\n\nFor the first time, he doesn't lie to me. 'Yeah,' he says as his eyes close again, like he's deep in thought -- like he can will the tumour away, if only he concentrates hard enough. 'Yeah, it's pretty bad.'\n\nI don't know what to say to that. It's getting close now: the spectre that's been chasing him since his diagnosis. He can feel it. I can feel it. This... this is just him running out the clock, waiting for the end to come, for sweet release. If he could, he would have run that morphine bag dry days ago, defiant to the last -- but he can't even do that. All he can do now is give in, when the moment comes.\n\nThe man that he used to be died weeks ago. I can't tell who that's more painful for, him or me.\n\n'Dad?'\n\n'Yeah?'\n\n'I...'\n\nI want you back.\n\nI need you.\n\nI love you.\n\nThe words catch on my lips, suddenly as dry as his. I can't say it. We've never said it, not really; we've never had to. After Mom died, it was unspoken. We were alone, just the two of us. The silence was easier, but just as comforting, somehow -- but there's no comfort in it now. Now, there's only cowardice.\n\n'I'm going to get you some more water, OK?' I say. My failure is bitter on my tongue.\n\nHe nods, his eyes still closed. 'Sure thing, kiddo,' he says. 'Take your time.'\n\nI pause at the door for a second, watching him in the dim light of the hospital room. It's only 3pm, but he has the curtains drawn; the sunlight hurts his eyes, so he stays in perpetual gloom as he waits for the end. It makes the lamp above his best that much brighter, shining down on him like a halo, highlighting every blue vein, every wrinkle, every bruise. It highlights just what he's become, and everything that has been lost.\n\nAnd then, like a cobweb on the wind, I hear it. It comes out so quiet, even in the silence, that I can't quite be sure I heard it. A final act of bravery -- and there, somewhere beneath the skin-stretched skeleton in the bed in front of me, is the father I used to know.\n\n'Me too, son,' he says. 'Me too.'\n\n_____\n\nIf you liked this story, you can find more over at /r/Portarossa.", "When I was a young I used to sit for hours beneath the great sycamore tree in my parents' garden. A huge, gnarled beast with thick, warped arms that stretched out protectively, far above my head. I'd often bring a book outside and sit leaning against the tree, wedged between two giant roots that were as tall as my waist. I would then lose myself in the worlds of Tolkien, Dahl, Lewis, and scores of other great writers. Being home schooled, I had very few friends, and so the characters in those fantastical books became my companions.\n\nI was worlds away, inside of a giant peach, when I first met her. I don't know how long she'd been watching me, but there she was, poking her little freckled face over the rickety fence. A messy mop of auburn hair framed her cherub like features, on which a curious expression hung. \n\n\"What'cha doing?\" she asked, as she saw me see her. For such a small creature, her voice was full and rich and above all, confident.\n\n\"What does it look like?\" I replied curtly. I immediately regretted snapping at her, but she didn't seem to notice.\n\n\"Doesn't look like you're doing anything, to me. Nothing fun anyway.\" She pulled herself up onto the fence, took a breath and jumped down; her ladybug dotted frock billowing in the air as she fell. She landed on her feet but only for a moment. Gravity was too strong for her small legs and she came down quickly, rolling onto the soft moss. She swiftly adjusted her hair, but there was something strange about the way she did it.\n\n\"Are you okay?\" I asked.\n\nShe looked at me as if I were odd. \"Of course. I'm not as soft as I look.\"\n\n\"You don't look particularly soft,\" I said, closing my book and walking over to her. I stretched out an arm and helped hoist her back to her feet.\n\n\"Sam,\" she said as she held out a hand.\n\n\"Jack,\" I replied, shaking it. \"Sam's not a...\" I didn't finish my sentence, but I didn't need to.\n\n\"Samantha,\" she said, rolling her eyes, \"but I prefer Sam. You not met a Sam before?\"\n\n\"I don't meet many people,\" I replied with a shrug.\n\n\"Why not?\n\n\"I'm home schooled - I don't get to see many other kids. I mean, it's great and everything, but, there aren't many people to play with. Any\", I added, correcting myself.\n\n\"Well, you know me now. And I don't have any friends either, so we're going to have to look out for each other.\" She gave me a playful nudge.\n\n\"Why don't you have any friends?\" I asked in the way only kids or overbearing adults would dare to.\n\n\"I got this thing. I'm not that well, at the moment. Mom and dad moved us into the country as they thought the air would be good for me. It's dumb really, I'm perfectly fine - as you can see.\" She gave a dainty pirouette as if to prove her point.\n\n\"Oh, well I hope you get better soon,\" I said, not really knowing what to say.\n\n\"That's what I'm telling you - I am fine. Just... you know what parents are like.\" She rolled her eyes again and I laughed.\n\n\"Yeah, I know,\" I said easily.\n\n\"Race you to the top,\" she yelled, pushing me out of the way and running toward the sycamore.\n\n---\n\nMonths passed and my books waited patiently on their shelves, slowly gathering the early autumn dust. I had less time, and much less need to escape into another reality. Sam and I spent much of our free time half way up the sycamore, our legs dangling hungrily over the precipice. I think we both felt free up there, far away from parents and problems, talking about things adults simply couldn't understand. Up there in the arms of the sycamore, the warm breeze gently caressing us, we felt we'd finally found our place.\n\nIt was late in October that she stopped coming to the sycamore tree. She'd been busy before with trips to see relatives or appointments with the doctor, but usually, she told me about them first. And always, she'd be back a day or two later. \n\nEach day she was gone I sat alone under the great tree, an unopened book in my hands, watching the fence and hoping to see my friends' head peep over. Hoping she still was my friend.\n\nTwo weeks passed without me seeing or hearing even a word from Sam. I told my parents. \"I'm sure she has other friends, Jack. You're not the center of her world,\" my dad said, trying to comfort me but doing the exact opposite. I decided right then that I would go around to her parents house and knock on the door. I would confront her; find out why she didn't want to be friends any more. I would do it the next morning -- first thing.\n\nIf I had only gone that evening, I would have been able to say goodbye to her. There is still not a day that passes without me wondering why I didn't have the courage to go at that moment. Perhaps deep down I simply knew what waited for me, and I was afraid.\n\nThe next three weeks passed in a tempest of tears and hatred. Hate for her leaving me; hate for myself for not being with her when she needed me. For not even knowing. I imagined her lying in her bed, waiting for me to visit -- and I didn't come. She must have thought I didn't care. Perhaps the largest part of my hate was reserved for the sycamore tree itself. I channelled all my resentment into it; my hatred of an unfair world. Even its very name now reminded me of illness. \n\nOne sleepless night after much tossing and turning and trying to remove her image from my mind's eye, I decided to do something about the long limbed demon that lurked out in the garden. I snuck out of bed and, dressed only in my blue cotton pyjamas, I took an axe from the garden shed. Beneath the pale moonlight I walked up to devil tree and furiously, but impotently, swung the axe at it. And then again, and again. Every bit of my being was consumed by the task; I was fuelled by failure and self-loathing.\n\nI had barely chipped the bark when my parents found me. My dad took the axe and I collapsed into my mothers arms and let it all out. I told them that my only friend was dead; that it was my fault - that she must have waited for me and I hadn't come. I wept and wept, until there was nothing left inside of me except for a dull emptiness. They brought me inside and my dad made me a hot chocolate and read me the B.F.G until I finally fell asleep.\n\nI was enrolled in the local school the next term, and while I hadn't truly come to terms with Sam dying, I did begin making other friends. The time came eventually when I was ready to confront the great tree once more, this time without an axe. My parents had for a long time thought it would be good for me; that afterwards, it might stop haunting my dreams. I gingerly walked up to it, sweat trickling down my forehead. Mustering all my courage I pressed my palm against it and squeezed my eyes tightly shut. \n\n>\"Race you to the top,\" she said, already dashing for the tree. She grabbed a low branch and swung her body up.\n\n>I was stunned for a moment, but quickly gained my composure, and refusing to be beaten by a girl climbing my tree, I hastily followed.\n\nI opened my eyes and smiled through the tears. I grabbed a branch and began climbing to our place. A year is a long time for a young person, and my body was heavier and clunkier than the last time I'd climbed. But slowly, cautiously, I crept up the tree and reached the spot where we had smiled away so many evenings.\n\nIt was there, stuffed in a tiny carved-out hollow, that I found the note. It was wrinkled and the black ink was smudged from drops of salty water. \n\n> Hey Jack. I'm sorry I didn't say goodbye in person, but well, you know. \n\n>I lied, Jack. I'm sicker than I said, and I don't have much time left. But Jack, thank you so much for our time together. You told me once you didn't have any friends... well, you did, Jack. You had me, and you always will do.\n\n>Before I moved here, my dad said I'd lost my smile. I found it again when I first saw you sitting there beneath this beautiful tree, lost in your own world.\n\n>But Jack, time is precious. Chase your dreams. Don't live through other peoples. \n\n>Your friend forever\n\n>Samantha\n\n>:)\n\n---\n\n/r/nickofnight\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n \n\n\n\n", "\"She's just like you, you know, in almost every way. Those blue eyes of yours, the dark hair that contrasts so much with the clarity of her eyes, this smirk when she tries to prank me, this sleepy head when she just woke up and even her obsession with pandas, every bit of her makes me think of you.\"\n\nI waited for a response that never came.\n\n\"She changed so much in the last 2 years, that's amazing. She grew up a lot and even her face changed thanks to the loss of her teeth. She's just 8 but she's trying to prove she's a grown-up now, calling the first grade pupils babies. That's too cute for me to remind her she's a baby too, my baby.\"\n\nI was trying to remember what she looked like 3 years ago but the changes were too many for me to recall it without a photo. I let a smile show up on my face.\n\n\"The other day she told me she had a boyfriend and now she was an adult too, because Bobby, her boyfriend, made her swear she would marry him. I told her that whoever she would marry, I would be her daddy and she would be nothing but my baby. She started sulking, that was hilarious! Just like you did!\"\n\nA tear rolled down my cheeks.\n\n\"She's just like you. And just like you she has it. It appeared last week. We went to the hospital and there's no doubt. The doctors are not optimistic about her case but we won't give up, I swear.\"\n\nI got up and put on my coat, hiding my feelings the best way I can.\n\n\"Well, the weather got colder lately, I think I will go back. I'll give you news soon, don't worry\"\n\nI left the cemetery with a heavy weight on my chest, knowing that in less than a year, I would likely visit two graves.\n\nEdit: Wow! Gold! Thank you kind stranger!" ]	11
	[WP] Humans are the only species who have the cultural concept of ghosts. Years after aliens have wiped out humanity and colonised earth, they can't find out why life on earth is becoming a living hell.	[ "It had been many years since we wiped the native species off the face of the universe. We had to do it, we had to survive, we had no choice. It was us or them. The conditions of this planet were just too perfect. We had finally found our haven, to start again. We could not stop ourselves from claiming it.\n\nYet, like all good things in life, it must have a price. \n\nLet this audio journal assist the next researcher in hopes of finding a cure, for this nonsense is above this warrior. I pray that our kin does not have to wander through the stars once more. I wish for our people to finally have a home. \n\nIt began one night when civilians stated critical temperature drops in their living spaces. Some reported objects misaligning themselves in their own living quarters, and a few reported voices of the native species in the night. \n\nWe searched for any remaining survivors, and found nothing. Meanwhile more and more reports would come to us with the same issues. Some of us started to believe... that something was still with us. Others believed this to be the price to pay. Absolute madness. \n\n", "\"Give it to me\"\n\n\n\"...\"\n\n\n\"Give it to me...\"\n\n\n\"What?\"\n\n\n\"Give me the cultural concept of ghosts\"\n\n\n\"nope\"\n\n\nNewmans had wiped out non-newmanity and colonised earth for quite a long time, yet they didn't understand what was going on with all this 5th dimensional-like paranormal activity that was still interfering with their lives. All they knew, thanks to the Mining Ethereal Metabase Ethernet left by non-newmans, or as they called it when they were in a hurry: bob, was that one word was not associated with measurable concepts: ghost. Then, as they knew this must be some deal of a higher dimension, they knew they could communicate one way, but, they were receiving responses, what the hell?\n\n", " \n\n Data Log - Entry 1\n\nCommandant Sercus Tyber of The Turian Annihilation Fleet's 1XC-V1 Regiment here, putting my thoughts to data today, supposed to help with the dark thoughts, removing the gift of life from an entire planet is meant to be unenjoyable you see.\n\nWhilst in combat school we were taught that in the rare event our unit would need to be sent into battle it would be a thankless task, we were to be the monsters they called on when the rabble couldn't do what must be done. we were to hate our jobs but do so anyway.\n\nWe landed on Perigon II three days past, within the first day the Human warriors were defeated, their military was thin, sickly, likely from previous losses, it took so little time I had wondered why we were even here.\n\nthen came the settlers, the common soldiers ran back to their ships, they shut their eyes and closed their minds, it was our duty now, our glory.\n\nduring these two days I've personally handed death to 20000 Humans, before I ended my shift I had found it efficient to keep the families together, they made less noise when removed as a unit, though their endless cursing only found respite in the dirt - whatever the case, now they are forgotten.\n\n Data Log - Entry 2\n\nIt's been several months since our mission ended, we've been called back to Perigon II, talk of remaining Humans, Turian settlers being killed in the night, likely a Terrorist group hoping to enact revenge.\n\nOur unit will be going out on recon into the local mines to find them and finish them soon.\n\n\n\n Data Log - Entry 3\n\nWe found something, a Human child, didn't stop to ask questions, just fired - no confirmed hits, it... it just stood and smiled, before we could even blink Sgt Arcin screamed in pain, his own spine had been pulled from him and used as a crude javelin to impale Pvt Tommun no one saw who did it, we... we ran.\n\n Data Log - Entry 4\n\nThey aren't terrorists, the events have spread, across the globe, every settlers camp, every outpost, besieged by the unseen, the unheard, the unknown - there are no words for what this is, the Humans call them spectors, after the elite agent presumably, a worthy comparison, so many are dead, so many attempt to flee but our ships don't fly, our messages stopped getting through, we are stuck here, we are being hunted down.\n\n Data Log - Entry 5\n\nThey've come.... no... they never left. \n\nI can see them now, they're everywhere! they're smiling, laughing, mocking me, taunting me, please make it stop, please, I don't deserve this, I want to see my family, I want to liv\n\n\n\n Data Log - Entry 6\n\n\n //////*SO//////DID//////WE////////\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n", "WORDS OF THE DEAD?\n\n\nE*arthiuy Collony might bit back more than it can regurgiate through its nostrils! Reports of whizzing words and wailing whimpers from dark corners continues to be reported in the ruins of Losangelesuy, Grand Explorist cANGKIR says on its weekly moving-image stream dated 23..2..1233ttt, despite the explorist and homemaker best effort in continuous subjugation and upheavals of ruins, these mission to gain physical evidence of these soundmakers continues to be futile.\n\ncANGKIR, a fine specimen, is still adamant that all of the Peoplek have been eradicated, just as he once reported in 18..5..1229ttt, after the successful deployment of Cpe Sneeze into Eathuy. cANGKIR instead opts to theorizes that due to Peoplek different hair colours, they had been denied from entering nexT realM, thus bouncing back as sounds in our universe. As heretical as it sounds, cANGKIR says that his belief isnt completely wingless feet, as he based it from the reports of Grand Explorist boTOLL reports about the Peoplek mindworks that stated that the species do belief in their essence returning back to their old home and follow their families as vengeful sounds.\n\nboTOLL himself, on a separate moving-image stream, had been quoted to say that his fellow grand explorist theories are \"fabricated for cANGKIR own gain, to put a lid on his explorist combative failures\" and \"a misdirection of his own reports about mindworks and our own holy scriptures\", and claim that the sounds were nothing more than \"..mass hysteria, and that uneasiness feeling you get from having a new home\"\n\nThe last of the Blessed Triumvitate, Grand Homemaker BUBUY, are unable to record his scheduled weekly moving-image stream due to health concern, which his aides have described as \"some type of fever\". He was reported to contact such disease after joining with his own batallion in one of those afromentioned missions to locate these soundmaker. BUBUY went inside a Peoplek abandoned mental clinic all by himself to place bombs, only to come out \"shivering\" and muttering about \"the Peoplek that walks through walls\". While this new, previously hidden ability of the Peoplek might provide insights about the constant sound problem, this is the first report of live Peoplek sighthings we've heard in timetimes, and might had resulted in decrease of cANGKIR's status into lessfine specimen for reporting a false report. \n\nWe wish Grand Homemaker BUBUY some water and speedy recovery.\n\n\n----------------------------------------------\n\nan excerpt from Kertaisk news program, dated 22..2..1233TTT, translated into Peoplek language as part of the reading material for beginners in Nativity Studies study program.", "\"Glorkon, why the felark did you slap my head?\" Zarkon asked her incompetent co-pilot, turning to meet his seven eyes. \n\n\"I didn't do shilt,\" Glorkon said, raising his tentacles in the air. \"You're losing your mind, Zarkon.\" He whirled in his seat, turning away from her, and pretending to look out the spaceship controls. Zarkon didn't know what he was looking at, considering the spaceship was on auto-pilot. \n\nZarkon bared her teeth at him. \"You always do this!\"\n\nBoth of them heard as they heard clattering in the next room. \n\n\"Did you forget to check all the weaponry?\" Zarkon asked. \n\nGlorkon shrugged again. \"It wasn't me!\" \n\nZarkon checked the next room. There was no one there. Strange things like this had been happening ever since they came to Earth after their race had killed all humans. Even out in the stratosphere, things were odd. She couldn't begin to imagine how things were back on the ground. \n\nWith nothing out of place, she sighed and turned back.\n\nGlorkon was frantically pressing at the controls, his tentacles gliding over each button. The spaceship blared its alarm, and red light flashed around the room. \"IMMINENT IMPACT! IMMINENT IMPACT!\" blared the robotic voice of doom.\n\n\"What did you do?\" Zarkon yelled, approaching the controls. \n\n\"Everything I press is going wrong,\" he yelled back, still frantically pushing all the buttons. \n\n\"Stop it,\" Zarkon said. \"Let me do it.\" \n\nShe tuned out the noise of the alarm and the annoying breathing of her half-wit co-pilot and focused on the controls. She pressed the auto-pilot and it turned on, and immediately turned off again. She engaged the manual controls, but they wouldn't move. She tried to restart the controls completely, but the system would not obey. \n\n\"What is happening?\" she whispered. \n\n\"I told you! I told you!\" Glorkon said. \"We are doomed.\" \n\nThe robotic voice blared again. \"IMPACT! IMPACT! SUDDEN DEATH! EVACUATION DISABLED!\" \n\nZarkon felt a wave of panic rush over her. The alarm burned in her ears and the red blinded her vision. Out of the spaceship window, she could see the Earth getting closer and closer. \n\nA screeching sounded over the alarm and Glorkon's rambling. A tiny scratch appeared in the window. It extended itself, forming a rough symbol. More symbols appeared next to it. \n\nREVENGE.\n\nThe writing was in English, one of the languages of the humans. \n\n\"SUDDEN DEATH IMMINENT!\" blared the robot voice. \"CRASHING IN 3...2...1...\"\n\nRed and black took over her vision. \n\n__________________________________________________________________\n\nAnd then they all lived happily ever after. \n\nJK. \n\nFight the good fight by joining [r/JasonHolloway](https://www.reddit.com/r/JasonHolloway/). Only real ghosts can subscribe." ]	5
	[WP] write a scary story that can be read to kids and also scare adults	[ "You fell in a well when you were six. There was a butterfly you chased into the neighbor's yard. I don't know if you remember it since we moved away, but it was a big yard because the older man was a farmer. He had piggies and chickies and duckies. Whenever new chicks were born he'd invite kids from all over the town to come play with them. He never let anyone out of his sight. He was real nice too, always said he'd offer to babysit you, since he knew how much you loved being on his farm. \n\nBut this one day the old man, nor your mom or me were around. You saw that butterfly and wanted to run after it. You ran on a hill and over a few wood planks that were hidden under hay. It was an old well that those planks covered and you went right on in between a gap. We looked for you a long while and came upon those planks. The farmer still hadn't come home, but we figured you went over there. We heard you crying and screaming. The wind brought that to us and we ran after the words and managed to get you out. You had a towel on and you were getting dry and tears were coming down your face and you looked at me and said, \"Daddy, are you going to get the other boys too?\" ", "Once upon a time, a Mommy Bear and a Daddy Bear took their Little Baby Bear to the mall. The Little Baby Bear didn't much care for the mall -- or at least, the boring parts of the mall where Mommy Bear and Daddy Bear spent all their time arguing -- and so it wasn't long before he wandered off, distracted by the bright colours and flashing lights that all the other stores had to offer.\n\nUntil, of course, he got lost.\n\nHe searched far and wide for Mommy Bear and Daddy Bear, but to no avail. For all the world, it seemed that they had vanished. Suddenly the Little Baby Bear felt a great sadness welling up inside of him, and a panic unlike anything he had ever known. Mommy Bear and Daddy Bear had always been around to keep him safe? Whatever would he do without them?\n\nBut in the mall, in among all the other customers who were too busy to notice the lost Little Baby Bear, there was also a Wolf.\n\nAnd the Wolf had noticed.\n\n'Hello, Little Baby Bear,' said the Wolf. He smiled a big smile, being very careful to hide his teeth. 'Are you OK?'\n\nThe Little Baby Bear didn't say anything at first, because he had been told not to speak to strangers, but the Wolf's smile was so big that he couldn't help but trust him. 'No,' said the Little Baby Bear. 'I can't find my Mommy and Daddy.'\n\n'My, my,' said the Wolf. 'That is a shame. Why don't you come with me instead? I have a nice big house in the woods, filled with all the candy a Little Baby Bear could ever hope to eat. What do you say?'\n\nThe Little Baby Bear didn't know what to do. 'I need my Mommy and Daddy,' said the Little Baby Bear eventually, just as he had been taught; it wasn't right to go off with strangers, even if they did offer you candy. Mommy Bear and Daddy Bear had been quite strict on that. 'I need my Mommy and Daddy.' The second time he said it, he felt a small tear run down his face.\n\n'That's very wise of you,' said the Wolf softly. 'Very wise indeed. But I spoke to your Mommy and Daddy, and they said it's fine. They said you were supposed to come with me. They'll be waiting there, in fact.'\n\n'Really?' asked the Little Baby Bear.\n\n'Absolutely,' said the Wolf. 'You do trust me, don't you? And you do want to be a good Bear and do as your Mommy and Daddy said, don't you?'\n\nThe Little Baby Bear nodded. When the Wolf put his hand out, the Little Baby Bear reached up and took it. The Wolf's grip was strong and painful, but when the Little Baby Bear complained the Wolf just ignored him. Oh dear, thought the Little Baby Bear. Perhaps I've made a mistake.\n\nBut instead he just smiled, and thought of everything the Wolf had promised: the house full of candy, where Mommy Bear and Daddy Bear would no doubt be waiting for him.\n\nAnd the Wolf lived happily ever after.\n\n_____\n\nIf you liked this story, you can find more over at /r/Portarossa.", "A strange noise disturbed Thomas from his wonderful dream about being a bright yellow penguin and helping Santa to deliver his presents. He jolted up in the darkness and listened out very carefully. \n\nmmph\n\nThere it was again. It was very faint and sounded... muffled. What on earth was it? He reached over to his bedside table and switched on his little lamp. Then, he saw it - and he screamed. A gigantic, eight limbed monster was on his wall, climbing down towards him!\n\nIt took him a moment to realise it was only a tiny spider on his lamp. The spider's shadowy body was being projected onto the wall. He let out a tiny giggle and picked up Rufus the teddy-bear. He squeezed his companion tightly.\n\n\"It's okay, Rufus. It was just a little spider. You were scared about nothing.\" He smiled at the raggedy old bear and gave him a kiss. \n\nmmph\n\nThere was that noise again. \n\n\"Mum? Dad?\" Thomas yelled out. No reply.\n\nHe swung himself out of bed and put on his slippers and dressing gown. He grabbed Rufus by the paw and cautiously walked out of his room.\n\nThe hallway was empty, except for the shadows of the old oak tree outside; they bobbed back and forth on the hallway wall like a playground swing. He knocked on his parents door, but there was no answer. Timidly, he pushed the door ajar and peeked in.\n\n\"Mum? Dad?\" he whispered.\n\nThe bed was empty and the duvet had been tossed onto the floor. Someone had spilt a glass of wine on the floor, although he could only see the liquid, not the glass.\n\n\"Where are they, Rufus?\" he asked his companion, as his tiny arms began to tremble. \n \nmmph\n\nThat noise again. It was coming from downstairs. He held the bear tightly against his body. Rufus' soft paws pushed against the young boy's chest; it was almost as if he didn't want them to go down there.\n\nHe bit his lip, and slowly crept down the stairs, carefully avoiding the steps that squeaked. He didn't know what he was worried about disturbing, but he knew it was something bad.\n\nReaching the bottom of the stairs, he began his search. The kitchen was empty, as was the lounge and dining room. The front-door was still locked from the inside, so his parents couldn't have gone outside. He had almost given up all hope, when he noticed the cellar door was open a crack. The cellar. He had long since promised he wouldn't go down there. Dad said there were rats, and they might bite him!\n\nHe gulped, and whispered in Rufus' ear. \"We have to go. They might need us.\"\n\nCautiously, he padded towards the door. He was about to open it, when all of a sudden, it pushed back violently against him! The door knocked Thomas over and Rufus went flying into the darkness.\n\n\"Rufus!\" he screamed.\n\nA shadowy figure loomed in the darkness above him.\n\nThomas scrunched up into a tiny ball and squeezed his eyes shut.\n\nWhen he finally dared to open them, he saw the light was on and it was his dad stood above him! He couldn't help crying, such was his relief.\n\n\"Hey, kiddo. It's okay. It was only me! And you know what, I was just coming to get you,\" said his dad.\n\n\"You- you were?\"\n\n\"Sure!\"\n\n\"What are you and mommy doing up?\"\n\n\"Well, daddy has been a bit stressed recently, Thomas. Tonight I wasn't really able to sleep, so I got up to play.\"\n\n\"With mummy?\"\n\n\"Yes! She's just hanging out in the basement. Would you like to join her?\"\n\n\"Yes! Oh - but can I bring Rufus, too?\"\n\n\"Of course kiddo,\" dad replied, walking over to the bear and picking him up. \"We'll all hang out together.\"\n\n\"But dad, aren't there rats down there?\" Thomas asked, suddenly remembering.\n\nDad looked almost annoyed for a second. Then he gently smiled again. \"I wanted to surprise you, Thomas. I've been turning the cellar into a playroom for you!\"\n\n\"You have?\" said Thomas, beaming.\n\n\"Of course. Come and see.\"\n\nThomas smiled as his dad put a hand on his back and led him through the cellar door. \n\n\"Silly bear, you were worried about nothing,\" said Thomas as he took the bear from his dad. He gave the bear a loving kiss.\n\n---\n\n /r/nickofnight" ]	3
	[WP] Teleporters have replaced all vehicles, but there's a catch: they function by killing the original and constructing a clone at the destination. Now the afterlife is overcrowding, and God is pissed.	[ "Uriel was panting the post-coital breaths of a chainsmoker. \"METATRON, WE.... Phew phew... huughhhh hughhhh* We found her...\"\n\nMetatron's voice boomed with multipitch thunder, \"There's absolutely no need to get violent with her, I mean if we have to send her to Hell for a while, as we sort this situation out, then...\"\n\n\"What's Christ think?\", said Uriel, catching his starry breath.\n\n\"He thinks she's only guilty by circumstance, I mean she didn't know how much she'd gum up the works of this system. Don't forget Heaven's only a few thousand years old. Christ lived and died as a HUMAN while DOWN THERE and secretly found the petrified skeletons of giant lizards and tiny bugs. Yahweh's gonna hate this, it was hard enough getting him to bless the New Testament. He didn't think it was believable enough...\"\n\n\"Pshh... Says the angel who helped transcribe the Old....!\", scoffed Uriel in jest.\n\nMetatron twitched his wings to thump out a Thinking Rhythm on the pearl backing of his secretarial throne. \"Just play... ahem Devil's advocate... pardon the expression... And tell me what August Jean actually did and if we have to blur the truth at ALL.\" He scratched an itch existing only in a flare of light.\n\nUriel started gesturing frantically as he laid it on God's Cop.\n\n\"Alright Sir, Miss June seems to have shattered one of The Lord's most useful inventions. An invention that covers any excuse for why we've been running a disaster since this place opened. She tore time, Sir.\" Uriel smashed a watch, to Metatron's annoyance, all over the desk... For effect of course.\n\n\"Time?\", said the weary Metatron.\n\nUriel shuffled his foot around, \"So far it's the only way we can think of to get humans to believe they age for a reason. This is all nothing though because... Well lemme tell you the reason Heaven's a bit shaky right now.\"\n\nUriel forced a bit of cold fire from his eyes to focus.\n\n\"Suppose you were Lucifer. You're protesting during the tantrum Yahweh was having back then.\"\n\n\"Yeah, back then\", sarcasm waxed the reply.\n\n\"I know, but just imagine Michael didn't put his fist through your head and hurl you out of Heaven, and instead you were cursed with the mark of a fallen angel. Well... These humans who have been dying in the time manipulation have to replace earlier versions of themselves. Similar to how the Cherubim does it, except they lose all worldly knowledge and spiritual enlightenment. The full soul gets mangled in the greasy clockwork of time and becomes fragmented. Filling up heaven was never an ideal plan but now the 140,000 chosen has increased a significant number. Can you contemplate for a second what would happen if we were forced to bring on an early Rapture?\"\n\n\"Why would that happen? Wouldn't the fragmented souls end up in Hell? We used to have Limbo but Ramiel bullied the Catholic Church into defunding it. Can't we find a refuse dump anywhere up here?\"\n\n\"Oddly, I think Christ has different ideas than us as to how to put souls into rank and file... He's... He's feeding them back into the machine...\"\n\n\"Wait.... what kind of machine?\" Asked Metatron, hoping this situation wasn't as rugged as it sounds.\n\n\"The machine that makes time travel possible. They call it a teleporter. It's kind of madness. Basically-\"\n\nMetatron swiftly cut him off. \"No. You're confused. We outlawed Time Machines after David Bowie started using one to translate ancient Angelic into English lyrics for his hymns. The guy's a welcome addition here but if he speaks The Lord's true name by accident, he's up Styx creek without a coinpurse.\" The archangel hummed \"Word On a Wing\" for a moment.\n\n\"You should know better than anyone that existence is a series of loopholes. This is one of them: After August June started using the device on her cats, the first thing she found is that, because cats are evil by nature, she can send them to Hell for just a moment to speed up the progression of time. The reverse goes for blessing a Dog before feeding it into the teleporter. The canine ends up near the Gates, and before you can even pat it. poof\", Uriel makes a gesture of a poor wedding magician vanishing a scarf.\n\nMetatron was slipping into more and more disturbed conclusions. \"So if time is sickle shaped, we're being left with original souls and nearly identical copies, over and over again.\nA surplus is the worst idea because someone has to count them, GOD DAMN IT SOMEONE HAS TO COUNT THEM! I'M THAT SOMEONE!\"\n\nA shattering blast was heard and there stood The Lord.\n\n\"WHADDAYA NEED ME TO DAMN. I'M UP TO MY ARMPITS IN SOULS AND I'VE JUST STARTED THROWING THEM IN A BUCKET.\"\n\nThe Archangels saluted, but Uriel piped up, \"Well what happens when the bucket gets full?\"\n\n\"I MAKE ANOTHER BUCKET, I DON'T KNOW. THIS IS.... AAAAAA\"\nGod was crying through his anger.\n\nA shadow of a crucifix appeared on the cloudy ground and Christ was risen from it.\n\n\"Pa, you MUST calm down. I keep trying to tell you about the renovations and you ignore me. We're going to reinvent Heaven. If we just make it an infinite expanse and stretch the borders till they meet... Hmm... We could basically fit Hell into Heaven. Everyone deserves a second chance, plus, souls being attached to bodies is still in early development. Why not just scrap that whole idea?\", Jesus was unwavering in his dedication.\n\nYahweh was a bit less interested.\n\n\"LEMME TELL YOU THIS GREAT RACIST JOKE I HEARD. TWO N-\"\nJesus distracted his father by pointing at St. Peter flirting with another man.\n\nMetatron took a long look at God. Uriel's hands were over his face. Metatron asked Jesus how this plan could be quickened. Less work is always welcome in the afterlife\n\nGod was now becoming more belligerant. His rage was becoming a whirlpool, threatening to drown him. His thoughts on drowning were a bit complicated, though.\n\n\"FFFUCK UP MY HEAVEN!??!? I KNOW HOW TO SHUT DOWN THESE FUCKIN' MACHINES WITH NARY A DAMNED FINGER LIFTED.\"\n\n\"With all due respect, Lord, I hope you're not talking about a repeat of the Noah incident.\", said Uriel.\n\n\"COURSE THAT'S WHAT I'M TALKING ABOUT, I JUST PISS ON EVERYONE UNTIL THEY DROWN IN IT AND THE PROBLEM FIXES ITSELF.\"\n\nOur Father then yanked up the front of his robe and took aim at the North Pole.\n\nMetatron kicked his desk over and fell into Jesus' arms. Uriel yelped at God, \"What about the rainbow? That was your promise you'd never flood the world again..! A symbol that beautiful can't just be desecrated and....\"\n\nGod plucked a rainbow out of the sky. \"I DIDN'T MAKE THIS SHIT, IT WAS THE DEVIL... THE DAMN DEVIL!!!\" Still in full stream he urinated all over it. Souls teleported in and out of Heaven screaming in an agony they'd never remember.\n\n\"Why!? Just.... Why does this.... have to... happen???\", gasped Metatron into Jesus' shoulder. \"Is he telling the truth about the rainbow? About it being a symbol of the Devil?\"\n\nJesus calmly closed his eyes.\n\n\"There ain't no Devil, just Dad when he's drunk.\"", "God, being omnicient, knew this moment was coming. When creating the universe he thought about it exactly before deciding that the alternative was even more unbearable. \n\nBut now the time was coming where the line between mortals and immortals blurred, and the %10 of existence where there was a lot of bickering began, he questioned, not himself, but logic. He wondered if he would ever cycle back and take the red pill instead, but then he wouldn't ever get to witness that magnificent creature that is Shiva gloriously be the salvation of the universe in the time %97.7. Every occurence of that moment was just as wonderful as the last. Exactly as wonderful, and it was worth the following torture.\n\n\"Listen, Allmighty and Allpowerful Merciful Lord, I can't have another fucking...\"\n\nThe Devil himself was then promptly smited into smitherines, before almost instantly reappearing before the Father of all Creation.\n\n\"The underworld is rampant with these clones. It was amusing at first, torturing them just right to recreate Beethoven's 5th with their agonzing screams was the most fun I've had since the Crusades. But now it's really rediculous and I can't help but notice that you don't seem to be having the same problem.\"\n\nGod didn't even try and speak, he just contemplated again if there was some loophole in his reasoning he could use to eliminate free will without feeling guilty. One True God level guilt is pretty debilitating, literally paradoxical to a level where the universe would implode, he assumed.\n\nHe didn't bother to weigh in to the coming arguement he had witnessed infinity times but that they, from their perspective, were now having for the first of what will feel like infinity times in their short eternal lives.\n\nSt. Paul raised, cleared his throat very professionally, still dressed like it was %5 with his sandals and a robe, and spoke. \"These clones do not have souls! I have appraised these humanoids as is my duty and can not in right conscious let them into heaven without souls!\"\n\nDevil \"So send them to purgatory!\"\n\nJesus spoke up \"There's no more room left. None of the clones have made it past the first level, it seems existential crisis is really tough for them to get through.\"\n\nDevil \"THEY'RE NOT MY RESPONSIBILITY.\"\n\nGod sighed and said out loud \"Here we go.\"\n\n\n\n", "Uriel tread on winged feet above the burning city, observing the chaos below with an experienced dispassion. It was impressive, he thought, this city of York; to stay above the tops of its towers, he walked through air so high that the people below were as ants. He would have considered this a fitting symbolism, had he seen much of a difference between people and ants to begin with.\n\nBehind him was Gabriel, who flapped about excitedly like some kind of cherub. Always excitable, that one, ever since The Announcement. And he wouldn't shut up. \"Hey Uri,\" he said. Uriel flinched. The shortening made a blasphemy of his name, but Gabriel - or Gabe - didn't seem to care. The Almighty had more or less left him alone for the past two millennia, and he was clearly acting out for attention. \"Hey Uri,\" he repeated.\n\n\"What?!\" Uriel yelled at the brighter angel. The legions of herald angels scattered in the wake of his shout, and birds fell from the sky for hundreds of yards. One of the nearest spires started to crack.\n\nGabriel was not dissuaded. \"You know they saw this coming, right?\" Uriel fumed silently. \"Like, they have movies about it. There's a billion-dollar industry based on the dead coming to life.\" Gabriel's fluttering slowed slightly as he realized that Uriel wasn't reacting with the awe he'd hoped for. \"Look!\" He produced a thin, oddly flimsy tablet from beneath his robes, titled with the words Dawn of the Dead.\n\n\"What is that?\" Uriel asked against his better judgment. The air trembled around him, and the legion of herald angels paused their regrouping.\n\n\"It's a movie,\" Gabriel said. \"Well, like a story, but instead of telling it around the fire you watch it on a box like a play and - man, I'm going to miss this planet. Anyway, it's a story - whose entire concept is, and I quote - When there's no more room in Hell, the dead will walk the Earth. They called it! The humans called it! How crazy is that?\"\n\nDespite himself, Uriel raised a single inquisitive eyebrow. \"Did they predict the apocalypse in its entirety?\" He asked. The weakened spire nearby finally cracked and split off from the tower, plunging to the earth.\n\n\"What, you mean the fact that they'd be outnumbered twenty-to-one? Or that 'the dead' would turn out to be them? Either way, the answer is no, buddy. Although they do have a lot of good stuff on teleporters. Hey, once this apocalypse is over, you and I need to sit down and watch some Star Trek. There's only a couple hundred episodes, so we can get through it pretty quick. I think you'd like Wrath of Khan, it seems very you.\"\n\nUriel had stopped paying attention, and was staring down at the strangely cobbled streets of the city. The dead, having lost their bodies, had had to make do with what they could find, but it worked, and Uriel felt a tingle of cold pleasure at the ingenuity of three spirits who worked together to animate an entire butcher shop's worth of discarded flesh.Two blocks down, a desperate mortal tried to escape via teleporter, only to die and join the rest, accumulating rubble and waste as their spirit shambled along the walkway. Uriel was dimly aware that a new mortal had been born three miles away with a head full of someone else's memories.\n\nAnother tower fell, not by Uriel's doing this time. Most of the city had already caught fire, and it was quickly getting less interesting. \"Gabriel, we move,\" Uriel said. \"We have elsewheres to chronicle.\"\n\n\"Sure thing, boss,\" Gabriel said, and pointed his fingers at Uriel with thumbs up. Uriel shrugged, grunted, and flew, his wake catching the fire all the way on the ground and making it flare and spread. Gabriel followed, and most of the herald angels struggled to keep up. The rest stayed behind, their mouths gaping wide, and sounded the death knell of New York City. It was good while it lasted, Gabriel thought as he flew by Uriel's side.", "\"What on Earth is going on?\" the great one proclaimed, perplexing on his throne as he awakens from his rest to see the magnificent halls of heaven's gates begin to clog like a Chipotle toilet. Un-amused he beckons for an explanation. \" You haven't noticed, father? Humans have constructed means of instant transportation, costing the present beings life in exchange.\" explained Julian.(his head of security. )\n\n\"This is the last straw, I'm over this experiment \"in an uncharacteristic rage; God snapped his fingers and suddenly earth froze still. He had stopped time for the first time since its creation. He swiftly turned his attention to all people who had come to earth via teleportation and with one finger he shot a beam from his index finger and shouted \"You will perish for your sins!\" the people disappeared from the magnificent halls.\n\nBack on earth time un-froze he sent all the originals to their last teleportation portals. All the clones became struck with an illuminated light, and rose high in the sky. Above cities,above towns,and countries. Millions and Millions of People ,helpless, screaming and crying. Their skins turned rotten and green, eyes and limbs randomly fell off, voices turned to hellish scours and howls, they then fell from the sky in swarms, Superpowered, eyes red as inferno and hunger for one and only one thing, humans. Cities became massacres of blood thirsty zombies ,brutally slaughtering every human in sight, God was showing no mercy.\n\nAwoken by a strange feeling Jesus jumped out of his bed ,on the other side of heaven and turned on his tv to see what God had done to earth. With his ability to teleport, he teleported to the palace to ask God \"why do this?\" to which he replied that human race has lost all hope and earth must be eradicated.\n\n\"This is madness! proclaimed Jesus. I must return to earth and help them.\"\n\n\"You will not! They all must die a gruelling and painful death.\" as God sent a flurry of flames at Jesus shooting him back through the halls. Dazed and Confused. Jesus looks up from the rubble to see that none-other than Lucifer himself was standing before him.\n\n\"Satan? how did you...?\" before he could finish he was picked up and thrown through heavens walls. Jesus quickly counters with a flurry of jet propulsion streams temporarily stumbling Satan. Looking around he could see that heaven is suddenly turning dark, demons and ghouls begin to entering heavens gate. Armys of heavens finest warriors came to help. There is war on Heaven and earth.\n\n\"Julian where is my father?\" asked Jesus. \" Your guess is as good as mine, I thought he was God. \"pointing to satan. explained Julian. Confused and filled with question. Jesus screamed. Satan came charging fist flaming,and spraying fire from every direction. Julian and his army quickly stepped up to hold him off. \"GO SAVE PLANET EARTH. I'LL TAKE CARE OF THIS.\" exclaimed Julian. Jesus without hesitation teleported to Earth. The destruction he saw was improbable the zombies were crushing the population of earth. Hovering over New York City skyline he came up with a plan, he clothed himself in impenetrable armour and wielded a elegantly made katana with sparks and static grizzling off it. He then made clones of himself in the millions and dispersed them through the world and began fighting off the zombies killing as many as he could but this was no small task. the zombies outnumbered the amount of clones Jesus could make. \n\nBack in Heaven Julian's army of men was dwindling, every desperate attempt to reach God was futile. Soon is was Julian and Satan who easily overpowered him, grabbed him by the throat with his fiery club for a hand. Ready to finish him off..... \" Slishhhhh!. \"\n\nSatan's arm became slashed off at the middle of his forearm. Freeing Julian. \" WHAT HAVE YOU DONE IMBECILE.! \" screamed Satan. it was God himself and in one swift flurry he sent Satan and every monster and ghoul back to hell and sealed it off. Then God fell to the ground and fainted from the exhaustion.\n\nOn earth Jesus ' war against these zombies was quickly turning dire. He successfully eradicated zombies in all but the U.S.\n\nJesus's powers were draining from using so much energy ,outnumbered by the thousands and growing. The Zombies were annihilating Christs army of clones.Julian and the rest of heaven could only watch as God layed there passed out from using up all his energy. With Jesus and God being the only two able to transport back to earth, He was on his own. The battle waged on and Jesus finally overpowered was reduced to one.\n\nMeanwhile in hell Satan not done yet and still in control of his zombies ordered them to merge together into a goliath zombie made of thousands that stood taller than sky scrapers. \"DESTROY THIS PLANET\" the monster zombie began charging and inferno beam and aimed at the core of earth. Jesus forced to retreat and badly worn. pounded his fist in his ground. tears wheeling down his face. He knew what there was to do.\n\nHe sprouted out of shelter and flew up to the goliath grabbed its arm and teleported to a distant inhabited planet. The zombie let off its beam after charging and destroyed this planet at the core. it blew up in a cataclysmic explosion\n\nEarth will be spared, though badly destroyed and its people decimated, Heaven was also in ruins. It was later discovered by heavens intelligence that the teleportation device made on Earth turned out to be a diabolical creation by Satan's evil engineers who somehow managed to implemented the idea into a corporations around the world. who mass-produced them. Then Satan in disguise teleported himself to heaven and sent God deep in the bowels of hell.\n\nHeaven was full of millions of people who lost their lives in the apocalyptic catastrophe, awoken from his slumber God could not bear to see his creation in such dire shape, he used all of his powers to restore every life on earth in the name of his son, and Earths savior. Jesus Christ\n\n\n", "\"Gabriel!\"\n\nA pillar of fire billowing golden smoke momentarily lit up the dais before the Arc Angel Gabriel appeared unfolding an expanse of shimmering wings. God rolled his eyes. Gabriel was so dramatic. \n\n“My lord,” the angel said already kneeling, “I exist to serv…”\n\n“Stuff the pleasantries Gabe,” God said as he pointed at a crowd of people huddling is small groups in the great audience chamber. A few of the groups began to prostrate themselves begging for mercy. “And tell me what I’m looking at here.”\n\n“Right. Let me see.” Another pillar of flame left behind a golden book which Gabriel quickly began to consult. God looked out at the crowd. Each person was a unique soul, except they all looked exactly the same. “Ah ha! They all appear to be one Gary Dekator.” Gabriel said looking like a puppy that had just pooped outside and was now expecting a treat. God sighed and rolled his eyes again. Lucifer had always been the smart one.\n\n“I can see that much Gabe. I wrote that book you’re looking at Gabe. I want you to tell me why there are so many Gary’s here! I made one Gary.” As he spoke he held up one finger just to make sure he was making his point clear. “And that Gary was an asshole who is slated for…,” God looked at the crowd of Garys’ who were intently hanging on every word and lowered his voice to slightly less than booming,”…who is slated to take up residence elsewhere. And not for another 20 years! I want you to tell me why I am suddenly hosting sixty-seven copies of one dickbag who’s supposed to be in HELL.” A collective gasp arose from the Garys, followed by much more prostrating and pleas’ for mercy. \n\n“Allow me a moment great Host of Hosts.” Gabriel walked down, retrieved one of the prostrating Garys, and led him up to the dais. Gabriel placed the man’s left hand on the orb of life which would allow the Arc Angel to witness this Gary’s entire life so that he could be judged.\n\nThis particular Gary, eyes wider than dinner plates, sheepishly raised his right hand in the air. “I …umm…swear to tell the whole truth and nothing but the truth so help me ….uhh….you?” God just glared at him.\n\nGabriel looked up from the orb, “It appears, Fount of All Holiness, that this man has invented a teleportation machine. However, when it is used the original Gary is killed and an exact replica is created at the destination. He appears to be in the middle of attempting to market this new invention and, meanwhile, has created a lucrative side business in the organ replacement market.”\n\nA look of pure shock crossed God’s face. “Jesus Fucking Christ!”\n\nA puff of purple smoke appeared. “You had better actually need me Dad.” Jesus said, looking around taking in the scene. \n\n“I still don’t understand,” God said, “so what if this copy died early? What he is doing is still pretty terrible. Why aren’t all these copies Lucifer’s problem? Why is this clearly shitty person here?” Gary lowered his hand and found something interesting about his feet to look at. \n\n“I don’t think is fair that you get to break your own rules Dad. Not that you care.” Jesus huffed.\n\nGabriel turned to the Gary in question. “It appears that this Gary’s only action was to remember that he left his lunch at home. He existed for 10 seconds and died having never committed any sins, your Grace,” Gabriel said apologetically. \nGary looked up, hopeful. \n\n“God Damn it,” God said.\n\n“Unbelievable!” Jesus said.\n\n“Welp,” God said shaking his head and drawing a deep breath, “Tell Lucifer double his reception staff, and prepare the earth for a hard reset. Let’s go with floods again since that worked so well the last time. And let’s rework physics…AGAIN…and maybe we can try to get it right this time.” \n", "A brown-haired man waved David over, \"Hey, David\" he said with a smile, \"Over here!\" \nDavid smiled playfully, \"I think I know you,\" he laughed, \"What's up David?\" \nOther David laughed, \"Hey, guys. Look who's here, it's David!\" \nA small battalion of Davids shuffled over, \"What's up, handsome?\" \nDavid's eye caught one of the Davids's, or rather all of Davids's, shoes, \"Man, those timberlands?\" \nThey spoke in unison, \"You know it!\" \n\"That I do,\" winked David, he gestured at the shoes with finger guns, \"Killer taste, lads!\" \nA short distance away God pressed his head into a heavenly pillow and screamed. \n\nHe took a deep breath and called for his advisor, \"Gabriel, get in here!\" \nIn the far distance small groups of individual, not to be confused with groups of individuals, started to shuffle around and make some space. \nGod impatiently tapped his godly slipper into the cloudy ground, bringing up small puffy clouds, \"Come on, don't have all eternity.\" \nHe paused for a moment and corrected himself, \"Well, I do but this is not what I want to spend it on.\" \nThe disturbances and pockets in the crowd started to get closer, God could hear muffled apologies closing in, \"I'm sorry.\", \"Excuse me.\", \"Coming through.\" \nGabriel made eye contact with God through the crowd, \"Almost there, Sir.\" he waved. \nThen Gabriel ran into a wild pack of Davids, \"Ooooh, stellar wings, lad.\" \nThe Davids surrounded Gabriel and prodded his wings, \"Soft like a baby's bottom, eh?\" \nGod gritted his teeth, \"Dammit, Davids! Let Gabriel pass!\" ", "They just kept getting fatter. \n\n\"What the fuck am I eating down there?\" I asked #1,029 one day, as yet another wide-backed, thick-necked, sweat-soaked Jerry Bins landed with a blubbery plop at my feet. \n\n\"They put a 'porter in the Whattaburger on Smith Street,\" said #1,029. \"Right inside the door. It's not fair, really.\" \n\n\"Holy cow!\" said the newbie, rolling to his feet with an embarrassing amount of effort. \"Is this Heaven? Am I dead? Are you... why are there so many of me?\"\n\nI snapped my fingers. #612 - slightly jowly and easily flushed, but not yet a wreck of humanity - came sprinting out of the living room. \"Hello, hello,\" he said. \"Welcome to Heaven. The teleporter killed you. But don't be bummed. You were only alive for...\" #612 pulled out an iPad. \"Eleven minutes. Hope you made it count.\"\n\n\"Eleven minutes?\" said the newbie. \"I'm... I'm 36 years old. I don't...\"\n\n\"Teleportation is a lie,\" said #612. \"You remember The Prestige?\"\n\nThe newbie was still trying to catch his breath. \"The Christopher Nolan movie? With... with the magicians? Am I a magician?\"\n\nI rolled my eyes. \"And I'm getting stupider? This is horrifying.\"\n\n\"Who's he?\" said the newbie, pointing at me. \"If this is Heaven I'd like to look more like him, please.\"\n\n\"The teleporter was a cloning device,\" said #612, already turning, trying to escape back into the living room. \"Original you was disintegrated. A new you was created at the second teleporter location. It's really all pretty...\"\n\nWith a thwump and a plop, yet another fat Jerry Bins fell into the room.\n\n\"Holy shit!\" said the first newbie. \"It's me!\"\n\n\"We're all you!\" I shouted, while jabbing the newest Jerry Bins in the ribs with my toes. \"And where the fuck were you going, fatty? You just took a teleporter!\"\n\nThe newest newbie rolled to his side. \"I forgot my wallet. What the hell is going on here? Am I...?\"\n\n\"Dead, yes,\" said #612. \"Teleporter killed you. But don't worry, you were only alive for... four and a half minutes. My shift's over. Any more questions, talk to #855.\"\n\nThe newest newbie blinked up at me. \"Eight hundred fifty-five what?\"\n\n\"This is pathetic!\" I said, storming out the door. \"Enough is enough.\"\n\nI found God about where I expected - in his office, working on a Sudoku puzzle.\n\n\"What now, Jerry?\"\n\n\"I'd like you to reconsider my request,\" I said, slumping down into the chair across from His desk. \"I can't take much more of this.\"\n\n\"You're dead, Jerry,\" said God, not looking up. \"The affairs of the living are no longer your concern.\"\n\n\"But it is my concern. It's me! Those clones are me! They got my name. They got my job. They got my fucking dog and my fucking stretched out face. They're ruinin' it. It's embarrassing. What about my legacy?\"\n\n\"Your legacy is what you did on Earth,\" said God, frowning as he scratched out a number in the margins. \"That's the ledger that got you in. But that book is closed. These other Jerry Bins need to live their own lives, on their own terms.\"\n\n\"But they're all getting in,\" I said. \"Some of them aren't even alive long enough to make a bag of microwavable popcorn, for cryin' out loud! You can't tell me they're gettin' in on the strength of their fucking resumes.\"\n\nGod looked up. I was worried for a moment, because sometimes God will stare a hole right through you and you know its not because He thinks you have an interesting face. But instead he nodded. \n\n\"Well, actually, there's some truth to that,\" He said with a sigh. \"In truth, we never accounted for all this cloning. How do you judge someone who was born a block from their house, took a shit, then died on the way back to work, because they can't take a dump in a public restroom? I can't condemn someone to Hell for that, but it's not like they've actually done anything all that great. So, yes. Every new Jerry Bins is judged on the collective works of Jerry Bins. But so far, that's worked out just fine for you, correct?\"\n\n\"I suppose,\" I said, \"if watching yourself slowly melt into goo is your idea of a good time. But what happens if they start going astray? Look at them! They aren't me any more. They're getting lazy and stupid and so, so goddamn fat.\"\n\n\"Hey now...\"\n\n\"Sorry, sorry.\" I shook my head. \"What if the collective works of Jerry Bins starts swinging in the wrong direction? What does that mean for me?\"\n\nGod stroked His chin. \"We haven't gotten there yet, but... I suppose it could mean you might all have to... relocate.\"\n\nI slapped my hands on the table. \"And there it is! That's what's at stake. It's not fair to even leave that up to chance. I was good - or good enough, I guess. It's not fair to let these idiots mess it all up for me.\"\n\n\"Hmm.\" God took a slow, steady breath. His eyes went down to the puzzle and up to the light fixture above. Finally he looked down at me. \"Okay. I'll do it.\"\n\n________________________________________\n\nJerry Bins licked his fingers, sticky with barbecue sauce. He ditched his empty wrappings and his tray and lumbered towards the teleporter. As he began to dial up the teleporter across from his apartment, he felt a strange chill. \n\n\"Don't you even fucking dare.\"\n\nJerry swung around and came face to face with a ghost. A thing of pale smoke. It was him - Jerry Bins - but younger. Healthier. Angrier. \n\nJerry stammered. \"I... wha... you...\"\n\n\"Come on, run!\" shouted the ghost, pointing towards the door. \"Run home, little piggie! Before I get you!\"\n\nJerry fled, heaving open the door and spilling onto Smith Street. The light burned. He hissed like a vampire.\n\n\"Run!\" shouted the ghost. \"Run!\"\n\nJerry ran. Shedding sweat. Shedding clothes. He ran until he was red like a tomato, then purple like an eggplant.\n\n\"Run! Run!\" heckled the ghost.\n\nJerry ran and vomited and ran some more. He ran all the way home, where he locked the door and shivered on the couch, glistening like a sea lion. And when he tried to take the teleporter the next day, the same thing happened. And again and again.\n\nJerry Bins was truly in hell. " ]	7
	[WP] Each arrow counts. And this time, I only have one.	[ "Whenever Godric was deep in his cup around the campfire, he would talk about chivalry, honor, and deep philosophical things that wealthy nobles had time to study. One of his favorite drunken lectures was on how much a life was worth. \"Every life has a price, and a payment.\" is how it would always start, and as young soldiers, all of us in the troop were obliged to listen to the silver-haired drunk. We were all third children or greater, far from the lines of inheritance, and Godric was a Count in his own right. \n\nIt used to be that His Majesty's House Guard was just a social position for young men and women looking to wed, to show off around social affairs and occasionally ride in a parade. When Queen Alandra the Liberator (Or the Conqueror, depending on your side of things) had taken the throne fifty years ago, things changed. The House Guard had been forced to earn their keep, and paid for it all in a lot of blood before they had truly become a skilled force. \n\nGodric was a relic of those times- he had been a lifelong soldier in the House Guard, and earned his County by dint of service. As much as I hated the rambling around the campfire, he kept all of us in fighting shape and even paid out of his own purse for prizes for bravery. He'd even made Jakob a Baron for capturing an enemy standard single-handedly. So we politely put up with his ramblings.\n\nHe fixed me with his good eye, and started up again. \"So, Leandra, you have to decide for yourself what your life is worth. You, you think about that.\" He slurred at me, and then gulped from his bottle of fine brandy. I murmured my assent, bowing my head in respect to his words before excusing myself- it was already late, the autumn cold was nipping, and we had a busy day tomorrow. The city of Ashburn had surrendered, and His Majesty Stefan the Lion was eager to take the formal surrender, and all the booty that came with it. Pondering Godric's words would take too long.\n\nI went to my tent that I shared with two other ladies of the troop, and decided to check my equipment over once more before bed. My armor was proudly displayed on the rack, the brass lion's head picked out on the breastplate and helm. You couldn't tell where the dent in the breastplate had been, and the helm was brand new, replaced by Godric for bravery in the Battle of Red River. I hung my well used sword, a gift from my very proud aunt, next to it after checking the edge for keenness. \n\nMy prize possession was on it's own rack- an expertly worked longbow of pale brown yew, the limbs supple and strong, and the handle formed for my hand alone. Decorated with inlaid ivory from the deep sea-beasts of the coast, it was a gift from His Majesty to me for being the best shot in the entire House Guard. I ran my fingers over it, feeling no wear despite how much I had used it. The quiver next to it was more utilitarian, but it was not meant for parade- it was meant for use. So were the arrows, a yard long each, a mix of narrow tipped arrows for penetrating chain mail or leather armor, or the thicker broadheads suited for use on unprotected flesh- or horses. I always felt guilty for shooting at horses, but battlefield needs are battlefield needs. Satisfied that my things were all in place, I fell into my bedroll, and was soon fast asleep. \n\nThe next day dawned foggy and cool, enough to make a lass shiver when putting on cold steel, even over the padded undertunic I wore. I was still tying my red and gold tabard in place as I fell into line in the ranks of the House Guard. Our standard was flapping next to King Stefan and Count Godric, the brilliant gold lion clutching a sword, a crown above it's head, laid on a red field. I mounted my steadfast roan horse, nodding to the groom who had held him for me. \n\nHis Majesty and Godric were engaged in a deep conversation I couldn't hear, and it took some time before they decided to sound the trumpet and begin to march on the gates of Ashburn. Behind us, the common soldiery were formed up and marching, looking smug- victories meant more pay, after all. The fog hid the extent of the army, but I knew how it would look. A long line of hard-bitten veteran soldiers, stretching back in a column for hundreds of yards, their own banners uncased and fluttering. \n\nAshburn looked much as it had the previous day, though the fires were out and most of the bodies had been moved to burial pits. The squat walls, scarred and battered, were unmanned by the surrendering enemy and the gate was open. His Majesty was wearing his parade armor- burnished breastplate, lion skin cloak, and the fine steel helm surmounted with a too-fine crown. Even the tack of his white charger was marked with gold and silver trim. \n\nAs a concession to the parade-like atmosphere, I had strung my bow and carried it like a polearm. It was much too large to easily use on horseback, but it was fine enough to mark me as more important than I actually was. I straightened up with a soldierly air as our horses started walking on the cobbles, hooves clattering. His Majesty was only thirty yards into the city when Godric suddenly threw his arm up, and looked around suspiciously. \n\nMy stomach clenched when I realized why- there was no one to greet us, to escort King Stefan to the Magistrate's Square, or even watching from the intact houses. Godric turned, and opened his mouth to call an order, and that was when all hell broke loose.\n\nArrows whistled among the Guard, some shattering on breastplates, some cutting into the flesh of man or horse. I felt a blow to my back like someone had hit me with a hammer just below my ribs- the steel was good, and the arrow had just broken. I pulled my own arrow out, yelling my surprise along with everyone else. \n\nBlack and green soldiers, the warriors of Ashburn, were pouring out of the houses, and appearing on the roofs in ambush. Two more were running for the gates- lock His Majesty in, and he could be killed or ransomed at leisure. Godric's voice cut across the horrible din of yelling men and screaming horses \"Leandra! The gate!\"\n\nMy fingers stroked the arrows- I could recognize what heads they had by how they were fletched. The two men running to shut the gates were wearing chain armor, and in a detached sort of way, I automatically selected the narrow tipped arrows from my quiver. Firing from horseback is awkward, and I had to lean back and angle my bow. It gave less power, but at this distance it barely mattered.\n\nMy first shot took the man on the left in the small of the back, and he pitched forward like a drunkard on the run with his face smashing against the cobbles. The second grabbed the gate lever and started to yank it backwards, intending to shut the gate in the face of our following infantrymen. \n\nBut the lever was large, and meant for several men to pull together- it didn't save him from my second arrow. He fell to his knees, grasping the shaft that was buried in his belly. I allowed myself a moment of smugness before a black and green mass came at me from the roof above, slamming into me. My stalwart horse, unable to keep balanced, pitched to his side and sent me tumbling to the ground. \n\nMy arrows scattered from my quiver, and I yelled at the Ashburn soldier who was struggling to get leverage on me. His sword was too close, and all he could manage was to try to grind on the armored plates of my shoulder. With my weight atop him, I took my chance to wrench my long dagger from belt. We were staring into each others eyes as we struggled in the muddy street. He was young, so very young. But one of us had to pay - and I chose him. My dagger went achingly slowly into his underarm, where the joint between his arm and chest left him unarmored. He gave a weak, wheezing gasp, and then collapsed limp. \n\nStaggering to my feet, I looked up to take stock of the situation. Half the guard were down, and King Stefan was on one knee, struggling to fend off a huge man using a broad, two handed axe. I could tell at a glance that King Stefan would come out at the losing side, pressed as he was. I took two long steps forward, sweeping up an unbroken arrow from the mess on the ground, and drew my bow. \n\nI had but one shot, I judged. One, before His Majesty was dead or mortally wounded. I was sighting when I heard a battlecry from my left. Another Ashburn soldier was charging towards me, this one with a two handed warhammer over her head. It would make a mockery of my armor, and with my sword miles away on my belt, I'd be dead if I didn't shoot her.\n\nIn that moment, it seemed like time froze. All those words of honor and how life has a price came into focus. Godric's rambles made sense- What would I pay if I lived, or what would the nation pay if the King died? Sooner or later, everyone pays, but what is the price of a life?\n\nI let my eye drift back towards the King and his desperate fight. The axe was raising high above the large Ashburn soldier's head, ready to come down in a blow like an executioner on the man I was sworn to protect. I exhaled, and then released the string, and it made the beautiful thrum as it shot my only arrow. It flew straight and perfect, into the open part of the axeman's helm, and even from where I stood I could hear the crunch as it took his life. Five other members of the Guard were running for the king, and they would be there before any of the traitorous Ashburn soldiers would.\n\nI looked slowly to my left, watching in detached fascination as the narrow head of the warhammer swung towards me. \"What's the price of a life?\" you ask, Sir Godric? Mine is worth the life of a King, and a nation. " ]	1
	[wp] Ever since your first day on the job, you've had a super power. You don't know how you got it, as your job is as average as they come. And you're just about as average. You've only ever used your power to help with mundane tasks. In fact, nobody has even noticed you have a power.	[ "\"Hey Mark, we're running low on fries. Could you get some out of the freezer?\" \n\nMark, in a hurry, barely had time to respond to Michael's question. \n\n\"I'm kinda busy right now already.\" \n\nMichael didn't even look up from the fryer as he yelled \"well can you tell Pam to get some if you walk past her? Lunch rush is starting soon ya know.\" \n\nMark was almost around the corner when he yelled back \"just get 'em yourself!\" \n\nThis provoked a reaction in Michael. Mere moments before Mark rounded the corner, Michael yelled \"stop!\" in a commanding tone. \n\nMark's eyes dilated. He froze, then slowly turned back to face Michael. He blankly stared at Michael, his body standing rigidly at attention. \n\nIn a voice that almost seemed to echo with sheer power, Michael commanded, \"you will ask Pam if she can get some fries from the freezer.\"\n\n\"Yes master\" replied Mark, in a monotone, almost robotic voice. \n\nMark slowly walked back away and around the corner as Michael began salting the already prepared fries. He had gotten in trouble last shift for being too slow during the lunch rush, and he was not about to repeat the same mistakes. As the last grains of salt gracefully settled down onto the crisply, golden French fries under the red heat lamp, Michael heard steps approaching from behind. He looked up to see Pam hurrying past, rolls of quarters in her hands. \n\n\"Sorry Mike,\" Pam hurriedly yelled, \"I've gotta man the register. Just go get the fries yourself.\" \n\n\"Ugh,\" Michael mumbled to himself, \"I swear I'm working with amateurs.\" He grumpily marched to the freezer to retrieve the precooked frozen French fries. " ]	1
Does he use it? What wishes would he make? Does the genie twist the wishes?	[WP] The most paranoid human alive finds a magic lamp.	[ "He rubs the lamp because it has dirt on it and he doesn't want his allergies acting up. A genie shoots out of the lamp. He faints. \nHe wakes up sipping from a glass. He's confused. He opens his eyes and sees the genie feeding him a glass of Budweiser. He starts coughing from the obvious taste dissatisfaction. He yells \"who are you?\". The genie finishes the glass and simply says \"Chris. I have a name tag.\" Surely enough, he did. \"You get 7 wishes my son. Can you make them fast? I was on the phone with my girl. We discussing when Ima pull through.\"\n\n----- someone continue the story. On toilet. Too much effort lol ----------" ]	1
	[WP] The first necronaut to successfully return from the afterlife agrees to a press conference. He takes the podium, says "Forgive me", and pulls a revolver from a manila envelope.	[ "The crowd of reporters began to panic. Captain \"Steely\" Dan Garcia pointed the gun at the ceiling. \"Please, settle down. I'm not here to use this gun on you. It's merely a demonstration.\" A few of the flightier reporters still scooted from the room, but most of them heard him and warily returned to their seats. \"Thank you,\" Garcia said.\n\n\"As everyone watching is aware, yesterday at 0600, I was medically terminated. My core temperature was lowered via ice bath and then my heart was stopped with a modified form of lethal injection. As per the mission, I was allowed to remain in a state of termination for one hour, whereupon my core temperature was raised and artificial stimulation of the heart was performed. None of this was remarkable except for being intentional.\" He chuckled, and a few of the reporters joined him. \"The mission element that was remarkable, the reason I'm here in front of you today, was the XN-3 device, which has become commonly known as the necronaut helmet. By stimulating brainwaves even after physical death, the XN-3 can create a bridge across the gap between life and death.\"\n\n\"Yesterday, for one hour, I was simultaneously dead and alive. It was an experiment that should not have been performed.\"\n\nThe low hum in the press room--the quiet buzz of conversation, the clack of keys, the scratch of pencil on pad--fell silent so sharply it was as though it had been cut with a knife.\n\nGarcia's face split into a manic, hungry grin. \"You see, poor Dan here didn't come back alone.\" Garcia looked up thoughtfully and scratched his nose with the barrel of the gun. \"Actually, I suppose it would be more accurate to say he didn't come back at all.\"\n\nBehind the podium, one of the security guards eased his gun out of its holster. Garcia's arm blurred as his revolver came around, and the security guard fell with a neat hole punched through his forehead.\n\nThe reporters screamed, animal panic taking over. Garcia watched them claw past each other, grinning. He turned to the bank of TV cameras and said in a voice that carried over the pandemonium, \"Let the record show that Captain Garcia's final words were 'Forgive me.'\" He put the gun under his chin, still grinning. \"And let the record also show that our first words were 'Goodbye.'\"\n\nHe pulled the trigger, and instead of blood, a gout of screaming blackness tore through the top of his head. Garcia's body stood as the evil torrent continued thundering out of him, legs dangling limp like a puppet hanging from its string.\n\nThe black flood flowed out through the doors, hunting like a living thing, spreading further and further. Where it passed, people screamed for hours before they died." ]	1
	[WP] Whenever the protagonist realizes the genre of the story, the genre changes.	[ "The creaks from the wooden footboards betrayed both the age of Mark's childhood home and the impending arrival of whatever it was that was trying to kill him. He held his breathe and tightened every muscle he could think to tighten as he laid motionless beneath the bed in what had been his childhood bedroom. The footsteps were growing louder. Whatever had followed him hear finally had him cornered three stories up. There was no where left to run. The handle on the door slowly turned as Mark closed his eyes in either an attempt to dissociate with his body or to simply spare himself the vision of his impending demise. Suddenly he heard the door collapsed. Whatever was haunting him was now inside the room. He was going to die. He was sure now his decision to visit his childhood home on Halloween had placed him smack in the middle of a horror novel.\n\nAnd just like that the lights came on and the creaking stopped. The dust that coated the walls slowly subsided as Mark slowly opened his left eye to peak out into what he assumed would be the dead-shot eyes of his torturous assassin. He couldn't have been more wrong. Time seemed to have slowed down as the ominous sensations Mark had felt before gave way to something more primal toward his nether-region. The most beautiful girl he'd ever seen stood in the doorway holding what appeared to be his glasses, which had fallen off as he'd scampered away from what he had imagined to be a blood-thirsty killer. \n\n\"Pardon me. You seem to have dropped your glasses.\"\n\nMark was aghast. He tried to stand up, but immediately smacked his head against the sturdy redwood beams that lined the bottom of his forgotten bed frame. Embarrassed he emerged from his cowardly hideout, stunned by the way the girl's red hair laid against the contours of her refined shoulders. Mystified by the red dress she wore, which twisted in the breeze the funneled through the abandoned townhouse. \n\n\"Th-th-thank you...\" Mark stammered as he approached what he was sure now was his true love. \"I-I was just making sure I hadn't left anything here when we moved out a few years ago.\" \n\nThe girl chuckled. Hardly undone by Mark's preposterous lie. Now within a few feet of the girl, she somehow appeared even more gorgeous than she had before. Mark's cheeks began to change their color to match hers, minus the freckles, as he reached out to reclaim his forgotten spectacles. But instead of returning them to his grasp, she took a step closer and began fitting the glasses onto his head herself. \n\nHer eyes, which began to come into focus as Mark's vision was repaired, glistened as their bluish hue hinted at what Mark pontificated had to of been a remarkable upbringing. One full of laughter, virtue and merriment. As he stared at her, completely and totally in love, the sudden appearance of a red dot on her forehead distracted him from her ivory white teeth and sultry red lips. Puzzled, Mark had little time to react before her head exploded, her body falling to the floor as pieces of skin and viscera splattered the walls, the floor, the ceiling and Mark's childish, naive face. \n\nHorrified Mark's jaw dropped as fast as the girl's body had as he wiped blood from his recently replaced glasses. As he gazed down at the girl's body, it suddenly began to spasm. The girl's perfect shoulders twitched and burned. Her skin darkened and her clothes ripped. The entire body began to vibrate like a tarantula evacuating its worn skin. Where there had been hands there were now claws. Her stomach now a thorax. Though draped in red, Mark's decapitated fantasy girl had transformed into a misshapen monster. Behind Mark a light spewed through the window as a crash warned of the arrival of the girl's assassin, who had by now careened off the roof into the room using only the home's abandoned electrical wires.\n\n\"Mark. Step away from the Spindrex.\" \n\nFrozen in fear, Mark stood still, unable to respond to anything that had happened over the past five minutes. Certain he was either dreaming or dead.\n\n\"Mark. Listen to me. It's dead but they sometimes still possess some idling reflexes. Kind of like a chicken that has had its head cut off... Well if that chicken also possessed the ability to shape-shift and inoculate human's for breeding.\"\n\n\"WHAT THE FUCK?!\" Mark exclaimed. Finally returning to what he was certain wasn't reality. Mark stumbled away from the hideous creature that had taken the place of his ideal woman. \n\nBrandon, an ex-marine, smiled to himself as he pulled his pistol from his belt. Cocking it and terminating what was left of what he had named the Spidrex. \n\n\"Mark I know this probably doesn't make a ton of sense right now, but you have to come with me. The world is at stake and you're the only one that can save it.\"\n\nHearing what could only be described as a stereotypically disproportionately aggrandized declaration of Mark's true purpose, Mark fainted. \n\nBrandon sighed. He had been following Mark for sometime, but his cowardice never failed to amaze him. They were opposites in nearly every way, Brandon thought to himself as Mark opened his eyes. Rubbing his head, he felt the blood and screamed as the reality of the past ten minutes dawned on him. He scampered on his hands back into the corner of the room furthest from Brandon, stuttering and stammering as he attempted to use a discarded shard of wood from the house's disheveled paneling as a defensive weapon.\n\nBrandon approached, but kept his distance. Seemingly fed up with Mark despite the fact they had yet to speak. \n\n\"Mark, have you ever wondered why it has always seemed that everything you do gets turned against you? How no matter what you do your plans backfire? How it has always seemed the world is out to get you? Well that's because it is. Everything and everyone out here is trying to kill you because you're the key. You're the one who's going to emancipate earth from the shackles of Jupiter's tyranny.\"\n\nThough Brandon knew of the prophecy, he hardly believed it even as he spouted forth all that he had heard of this scrawny teenager's supposed heroism and valor. Yet despite his hesitancy to embrace his own words, they had struck a cord in Mark, who had begun to recover from his recent misfortunes. He had always believed he was meant for something greater. He felt now that him not fitting in anywhere hadn't been his fault, but the universe's plan. He grasped the wooden shard tighter as he brought himself to his feet, reinvigorated. He was ready to face whatever was out there, whatever his destiny held for him.\n\n\"Tell me more.\" Mark pleaded with a newfound confidence that caught Brandon off-guard.\n\n\"Of course. But first, let us get you cleaned-up. The blood of a Spidrex will start to sting if not scrubbed clean in the first ten minutes. It is of course partly comprised of chloric acid.\"\n\nMark had heard enough, discarding his shirt and pants, which had been covered in a thick, redish-black goo, Mark stood shivering in only his boxers, sox and glasses.\n\nBrandon walked over and grabbed Mark's sullied outfit from the floor and exited the room down the creaking staircase. Puzzled, Mark took a deep breath and followed, now fully expecting to embrace his life as an intergalactic warrior. \n\nMark's newly-endowed confidence was perhaps to blame for what came next, as he began to clammer down the stairs after Brandon he failed to see what were obviously cameras peering on from the rafters. \n\nOblivious, Mark followed, half-naked, as Brandon exited the backdoor of the house, shutting the door behind him. Much to Mark's frustration.\n\n\"He'll have to learn his place.\" Mark thought to himself, letting his newly ordained status go straight to his oversized head.\n\nStruggling with the lock on the door, Mark finally heard it click as he exited his home for the last time. Looking back at the ominous exterior facade of the building, Mark let out a melancholy sigh before turning to look for Brandon. \n\nUnfortunately, Brandon was nowhere to be found. Instead light burst forth from every direction as the ground beneath Mark's feet shifted and rose up from the earth. Laughter could be heard from every direction as a studio audience pointed, snarled, choked, chortled and cried at the poor teenager stranded on a platform in only his underwear. Startled Mark tried to cover himself with his arms, but to no avail. He was no longer the center of the universe, simply the center of a comedy show meant to reward audiences by terrifying and embarrassing unsuspecting children. \n\nFor the first time since the beginning of the night, Mark longed for the time he was certain he was being haunted by a paranormal demon. " ]	1
	[WP] You know how in movies, when the murderer is chasing down his victims and the lights are flickering? Well, that's not just faulty wiring: the murderer hired a guy to do that for him. This is his story.	[ "Man oh man what a day!\n\nAnd they said I'd find such little work way out here in the boonies. Cash to brake it, cash to fix. Can't say there's much else to it. As an electrician, I can't be too proud to sabotage wiring for lighting, but I end up fixing it up anyways.\n\nJust last night some weirdo in a Halloween mask stuck a blade in my face, asking me to \"fix\" the lights. He paid in wrinkled cash. With that much he could've bought a better get up... or a gun.\n\nRing\n\n\"Hello, Backwater Circuits, this is Larry like lemon. How may I help you?\"\n\n\"I'M IN NEED OF YOUR SERVICES.\"\n\n\"Sure, when will you be available for an appointment?\"\n\n" ]	1
	[WP] You wake up in a small, dirty wooden shed. You are naked and have nothing on you. Light is streaming through the cracks, signifying it's daytime. As you go to stand, you hear a voice over a speaker nearby. "Welcome to my island. You either survive or die. Let it begin in 10, 9..."	[ "\"9...\"\n\nI looked around the small shack, anxiety rising rapidly. I had no clue where I was or what the fuck was happening. A small wooden chair and table sat against the far wall, with a pile of neatly folded clothes on it. I dressed hurriedly, painfully aware of the voice from the speaker counting down.\n\nBy the time I pulled on the surprisingly well-fitting jeans, shirt and leather jacket, the countdown had ended, and the door to my shack opened. I headed out cautiously, trying to scope out what was happening. The hut was situated on the water's edge, facing inland. Inland was tropical rainforest directly ahead. 100 metres down the beach to the left, I saw a person sprint from their hut into the foliage. Looking to my right, I saw another hut at approximately the same distance, but I couldn't see its occupant.\n\nI headed out onto the sand, moving towards the rainforest. In the distance, I thought I could hear shouting. As the sand slowly transitioned to dirt, I heard a crashing through the trees. I called out, hoping to find someone that could tell me what the fuck was going on. Whatever was making the noise was fast approaching me. Suddenly, a figure burst through a nearby bush and stopped in front of me. It was a large, bald, heavily tattooed man wearing an Adidas tracksuit, and carrying a wooden chair.\n\nDeducing that this was the man from the cabin to my right, I raised my hands to show I was unarmed and asked if he knew what was happening. All I received in response was a flat \"Da\", a smile and the chair being swung at me.\n\nMy instincts kicked in a little too late. I raised my arm and made to duck, but not before the chair slammed into my side. My head was safe, but that hurt. The force of the swing sent me sprawling onto the ground. I rolled out of the way, just as the chair shattered on the ground next to me. Clambering to my feet, I barely avoided a fast flying fist from the bald guy. I started firing punches at the assailant as fast as he returned them. A savage kick to the inside of my leg drove me to one knee. As he moved in the finish me off, I grabbed a shard of the wooden chair and sprung upwards, jamming it in his neck. He dropped to the ground, gurgling on the blood as I lent against a tree and got my breath back.\n\nFrom the look of him, I could tell I'd seen his type before. Bratva, Russian Mafiya, whatever you call them. He certainly looked it. What are the chances an Australian biker and a Russian mafia member wind up fighting to the death on the same island? What the fuck was happening?\n\n--------------------------------------------\n\nThis was fun to write, thanks for the prompt. If you're interested I'd be happy to attempt to write more", "\"10, 9...\"\n\n\"Um, I'd like to survive please. Yes, definitely, put me down in the survive column.\"\n\n\"Righty O, sorry about the shed, it's just that not all our visitors make the same choice, and the old wooden shed's pretty easy to clean. Step on out, grab a T-shirt and shorts off the bench, and some flip flops if you want some, and join us at the bar.\"\n\nSo began my trip to Destiny Resort, the ultimate vacation getaway." ]	2
	[WP] Walking home at the dead of night is nothing new for me, but tonight felt different...	[ "You turn to look around, confused. Confusion is nothing new for you-after all, it seems that in this day and age, you're getting more confused calls than ever (you blame the sloppy product launch). But you'd packed up and left work-and besides, this was a different confusion. One that seemed more wild, more dangerous, more...well, you didn't know how exactly to describe it precisely, only that it was...different. \n\nYou shake your head, chiding yourself for letting your imagination get away from you. Must be left over nerves from the launch, you think to yourself as you look up at the full moon hanging above, like a stage light that could bathe the entire city in it's majestic luminescence. On a night like tonight, it almost makes the lamp posts that dot the city redundant.\n\nNevertheless, you're still glad for them. After all, it's not like every night is as bright as this. You pass by one at an intersection, it's sloped base taking up a wider area than the rest of the post, poster for a band that had already played fluttering in the breeze. You nod at it. Stupid, but it's been a habit with that light for years. Probably started from nodding at the lady who ran the grocery store across the street. But then you started working the late shift at work, and now you nod at nothing but this stupid street lamp.\n\nShaking your head, you round the corner just in time to catch a figure leaving the convenience store near you with a rather big suitcase. You squint, trying to see who it is-it's highly unusual for that store to be open this late, after all. Suddenly, you gasp-the figure is wearing a ski mask! You quickly put two and two together, just as the thief turns your way. Their eyes widen, all other features indistinguishable underneath their mask.\n\n\"Don't move!\" they yell as they swiftly pull a handgun out of a holster on their pants. Startled, you raise your hands above your head. The thief approaches slowly, both hands never leaving the gun they now wield. A bead of sweat trickles down past your lips. This is ridiculous. How were you supposed to know to avoid this ahead of time? You don't deserve this. You just wanted to go home and relax. Was that too much to ask?\n\nSuddenly, a powerful beam of light catches you both in its illumination. The thief curses and runs, dropping his gun as he flees into a nearby alley, light following him. Must have been some sort helicopter. Probably a police one. Nevertheless, you don't want to push your luck, and bolt off to your apartment as quickly as possible, taking a shortcut through an alley that you don't usually take. But the encounter, while brief, spooked you, and now you just want to get home as soon as possible now.\n\nBut the alley is dark, and unfamiliar. Rushing as you were, you trip and fall over a loose garbage can, the sound of your impact ringing throughout the alley. You curse, brush yourself off, and then you realize-you lost your phone! You groan-it'll take forever to find in the dark!\n\nBut then, a beam of light comes over you-another helicopter, no doubt. Still, you couldn't be happier-it's illuminating your phone on the ground, still in one piece! Grinning, you reach out and grab it before putting it back in your pocket. You turn upwards to wave at the pilot of the helicopter-and pause. You didn't notice it at first, but there isn't any noise being emitted by the copters rotors, now that you're listening for it. Come to think of it, there wasn't any noise coming from the earlier helicopter, either. You shrug your shoulders and carry on-after all, it's not like that sort of thing is worth getting too worked up over, right?\n\nThankfully, you manage to get home otherwise without incident before finally reaching your apartment. Unlike the rest of the streetlamps, the one by your apartment has burned out-your not sure when. Thankfully, the one on the other side of the street is still working, but that's not exactly helpful as you shuffle through the various keys on your key chain, blindly trying them due to the covering above the main entrance blocking out the moonlight from above.\n\nSuddenly, a dim light catches your hands-some sort of lamp from one of the houses, no doubt. Grinning, you put the key in the lock and turn back to see who illuminated your keys-only to find nothing there. Shrugging your shoulders, you turn back towards the door-only to catch something moving out of the corner of your eye. Startled, you turn around-but no one is there. Except...no, that's stupid. You groan into the night, attempting to banish the thought from your head. Still it persists in your mind, echoing around and around inside. You sigh, and shake your head before turning back to the door and opening it-but something makes you pause and turn to the lamp. For some reason, you can't get the thought out of your head that the slope of the lamp post across the street looks like a dress.\n\nThen, suddenly, you see something that grabs your attention. You stare at the lamp post, furrowing your brow as you narrow your eyes. Then, you see it. The poster. Your eyes widen as you unconsciously back into the apartment, staring in disbelief. But no, it isn't deception. That poster is the same one from before. You turn and bolt up the stairs, taking them two at a time as you hurry to your apartment.\n\nOutside, the lamp post blinks once, light vanishing for a few seconds. When it comes back, there is no trace of the lamp, only an empty space where one may have gone. The illumination is coming from above the empty spot.\n\nA poster for a band that has already played flutters down the street, before being whisked away by the wind. The street lamp flickers, then goes completely dark. When it comes back, the lamp post is not the same.\n\nIt flickers once, then goes dark for the rest of the night." ]	1
	[WP]Day 43: The floor is still lava	[ "\"Janine.\"\n\n\"Yes mum?\"\n\n\"Why is the floor still lava? I thought I told you to clean this up last month. If you're not going to look after your volcano I'm going to have to seriously reconsider letting you keep it. A volcano isn't just for christmas you know. Don't you remember the adverts?\n\n\"I Know mummy but the little men keep coming in and doing weird things with sticks and lights and I think they're measuring something mum. It's really fun!\"\n\n\"...Oh Janine how many times have I had to tell you. No humans on the home-plane okay? If you want to play with the mortals go to Earth. It's not acceptable to leave interdimensional portals open is it now?\"\n\n\"But mum they're really fun.\"\n\n\"No but mum me go ahead and wipe them out so I clean up before tea.\"", "Marcus stared at the receiver of his phone, confused. \n\n\"...sir?\" A tinny voice came from the phone. \"Sir? Are you still there?\" \n\n\"Yes, I'm here.\" Marcus cradled the phone with his shoulder as he hopped from his sofa to a nearby ottoman. \"When did you say someone would be coming, again?\" \n\n\"The technicians will be there on Monday,\" the voice said, \"or Wednesday, between the hours of 8 AM and 3 PM, or any time after 5 PM.\" \n\nMarcus looked down at the lava covering the living room floor. He frowned. The lava bubbled and spit. Marcus swatted a bit of cooling ash off the smooth leather of the ottoman. \"And did you say Monday or Wednesday?\" \n\n\"Yes, sir.\" \n\n\"Well, which is it?\" \n\n\"It could be either, sir.\" \n\n\"And your guy, he will be here...\" \n\n\"Between 8 AM and 3 PM,\" the voice said, \"or any time after 5 PM.\" \n\n\"And I need to be here.\" \n\n\"Yes, sir.\" \n\nMarcus gritted his teeth and began counting silently to ten. \n\n\"Sir? Are you still there?\" \n\n\"Ohmygod&mdash;YES I AM HERE.\" \n\n\"There's no need to shout, sir.\" \n\nMarcus took a deep breath and let it out with a slow, steady exhale. \"You understand that my floor is lava, right?\" \n\n\"Yes, sir.\" \n\n\"It's been forty-three days.\" \n\n\"Yes, we're very sorry about that. Sir.\" \n\n\"God I wish there was someone else in town who could fix this.\" \n\n\"We hear that a lot, sir.\" \n\n\"Is there any way\"&mdash;Marcus' voice rose in pitch&mdash;\"any way at all that you could expedite this?\" \n\nSilence on the line. \n\n\"Hello?\" Marcus shook his phone. Silence. \n\n\"Are you still there?\" \n\n\"Please be patient, sir,\" the voice said, \"I was checking on your expedite request.\" \n\nMarcus swallowed and breathed in through his nose, out through his mouth. \"...and?\" \n\n\"No.\"\n\n\"No, what?\"\n\n\"No, sir. We can't expedite.\" \n\n\"MY. FLOOR. IS. LAVA.\" \n\n\"Sir, please&mdash;\" \n\n\"I HAVE BEEN CALLING YOU FOR OVER A MONTH.\" \n\n\"&mdash;yes sir, we appreciate your patience&mdash;\" \n\n\"FUCK PATIENCE! HOW MANY OTHER CUSTOMERS\"&mdash;Marcus leaped from the ottoman onto a pillow floating serenely on the lava, then skipped along a path of pillows to his kitchen&mdash;\"HAVE FLOORS THAT ARE LITERALLY MADE OUT OF RED HOT MAGMA?\" He opened his fridge and grabbed a cold beer bottle. Marcus smashed the bottle's neck against the counter-top and held the fizzing beer over his upturned mouth. \n\n\"I understand your frustration, sir, but our floor lava remediation crew has been working overtime since the start of the summer.\" \n\n\"You know what?\" Marcus tossed the empty bottle into the lava and watched it sink. \"I think I'll sleep in my god damn van.\" \n\n\"Sir?\" \n\nMarcus hopped to his front door. His coat and hat hung on wall pegs, dangling a few feet above the scorching sludge on the floor. He grabbed his coat, felt for his keys. \n\n\"Sir? Are you there?\" \n\n\"Sorry, I'm here.\" Marcus slipped on his coat. \"I tell you what: fuck this house.\" \n\n\"Sir, we don't allow customers to curse at us&mdash;\"\n\nMarcus snorted and pulled open the front door. He tossed the phone over his shoulder, where it bounced once on the sofa and tumbled into the lava. The small voice continued to talk until the plastic melted and the phone's circuitry fried. \n\nMarcus stood on his snowy front lawn. He pulled out a pack of cigarettes, his breath making faux-smoke in the cold air as he tapped a cigarette against his palm. His cell phone rang. \n\n\"Hello?\" \n\n\"Hello, is this the owner of the powder blue Ford Econoline van?\" \n\n\"Uh, yes?\" \n\n\"Sir, I don't know how to tell you this, uh...\" \n\nMarcus flicked his finished cigarette into the snow. It hissed. \"You fix the starter yet?\" \n\n\"Uh, yes sir, but we hit a snag,\" the voice paused, \"it's the cargo area.\" \n\nMarcus laughed. \"Don't tell me: the floor is lava.\" \n\n\"Oh! No. Ha ha, no.\" The voice paused. \"It's permafrost.\" \n\n***** \nIf you liked this story, I have other stories at /r/hpcisco7965.\n\n " ]	2
	[WP] The "Eye for an Eye Inversion" law allows one legal murder for every life saved. Doctors are now the most feared members of society.	[ "The blood-curdling screams fuel my work as a doctor, the life saving opportunities decrease my bloodrage, only to have it replenished by another death.\n\nI'm not insane. I'm not insane. I am not insane.\n\nThe world is a faulty place, the weak has riches that are far beyond their comprehension, the powerful are stuck in these shitholes, of poverty. I am here, I am the guardian angel of the world. I can shoot, stab, run over any person I want, I'm a merciless serial killer. But, I am the world's God. I am, Truth.\n\nI have no punishment for my murders, because of the law bestowed upon my country, the \"Eye for an Eye Inversion\" law, it's what gives me the capability to murder anyone desirable. Doctors are the most feared members of society, but most can only murder 2-3 people, because they're pathetic. Weak, short minded doctors, that deserve to die. \n\nI can do whatever I want. Because, I destroyed cancer.\n\nRidding the world of this terrible disease, I am now able to destroy anyone I see fit, anyone who annoys me, anyone who angers me.\n\nI am not insane. I am not insane. I am not insane.\n\nI can tell you a tale of one of my murders, a simple one, a boy weak, underfed and abused by his wretched parents. I killed the parents, it was brutal, but satisfying to see such horrible beings be put away into Hell. The boy's emotion afterwards was only resentment to his parents, and he gave me a smirk, he was strong. I spared him, I am God, I decide who lives and who dies.\n\nAnd, he lived.\n\nWhy do I hold such resentment against the weak and strong? Because, I was once a poor boy, on the streets with nothing to eat. I was like that boy, and I saw myself in him.\n\nI am God.", " \"Hey, lookin' tired pal, why don't you let me take this one?\" \n\nThat patronising fucking grin smeared across his face as his hand slid off my shoulder.\n \"My ass Terry, I'm good to go.\"\n\nI slid my gloves on and pulled my mask up. Through the double doors laid a fading soul. Luckily it was just another artery bypass. Simple enough, but another heart attack like that could kill the guy. A heavy hand pulled me back and lead my ear to a big mouth.\n \"Don't fall asleep on us again buddy.\"\n\n The words slithered out in a whisper, acting as a slow fuse to his wheezing laughter that exploded in punctuation to his 'joke'. He patted my back again. \n It was months ago, I remember exactly. I was stacked with patients, I had just finished a procedure on the heart of some poor guy. It was a miracle we got it done in the time we did. I was getting ready for the next patient, a nasty case of Appendicitis. I wavered as my vision started to fade, I reached out to catch my balance. \n \"Had a little too much to drink? You know there are other ways to prevent stress but the ladies don't love the smell of vodka.\"\n\nSpit flew from Terry's mouth as he tried to catch his breath laughing as the rest of the team extended worries. \n \"Well you already know that, at least Susan must know.\"\n\n I fainted flat to the ground as the cackling faded. I hadn't thought to eat. The rush of saving someone caught me up every time. I awoke to the grinning face of Terry. Fucking Terry.\n I pushed the double doors open, and a smile spread across my face.\n \"Say, Terry\"\n\nI looked back\n \"Wanna catch the game at the bar after work? I'll pay.\"\n\nEagerness slithered through my smile. \n\"Oh I wouldn't wanna add to your tab Tom, I'm sure it's high enough!\"\n\nHis red face exploded into laughter again.\n\"But I can't say no to free booze!\"\n\nHours later I walked from the operating room. My face stretched into a smile as I took my gloves off. My teeth shined as I removed my mask and scrubs. My smile glistned as I met Terry outside. My countenance markedly spry as I drove him to the bar, laughing at his jokes. My eyes bright as I didn't stop at the bar. My mind positive as I stopped at the pier. My lips stretched as I tore him from the car and threw him on the ground. My dimples showing as I crushed his skull with my baseball bat and brains bled from his eyes. My chin lifted as I dropped the body and got in the car. My cheeks pained as I watched the game.", "This was my first time dealing with a sexual assault. I was afraid to say anything to the patient, so I just quietly assisted the doctor. When she began to crash on us, thank goodness I remembered my training; I had her stable before he could arrive.\n\nHe took me aside later, told me I'd saved her life...and reminded me what that meant. And that I should be very careful. He even offered to take the credit off my hands if I wanted.\n\nBefore I was done my coffee, left to think about the patient...I knew what I wanted.\n\n~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~\n\nGetting the info wasn't hard. As the victim's nurse, I was privy to a lot of conversation between investigators...I've never been a terribly duplicitous person, but I did manage to get a good look at their phone amidst all the work after hearing they already had a suspect with an incredibly high probability. Processing the victim's assault kit was practically a formality. I made special note to memorize the address. Soon as my shift was over, I went to my car...and made sure the aluminum bat I kept in there for my protection was there.\n\nI'd be going to bed late that night.\n\n~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~\n\nNot a good part of town, but then, I wasn't there for anything good myself. Getting in was so easy it felt almost supernaturally wrong. I found him, almost passed out on his couch...TV tuned to an adult channel. Figures.\n\nI was the guy the nurses called when a BIG patient needed restraining...so overpowering this human-shaped slimeball was easy, especially as he was drunk. From there, I went to work.\n\nI hardly remember that half an hour I worked him over...I remember only fleeting seconds when I knew I'd broken something. The hands were first...then I did a few joints just to be sure the pain would linger. We talked...well I talked.\n\n\"You owe someone a debt of suffering, my friend.\" When did I get so eloquent? ...Think about that later.\n\nNow he was bawling. He didn't DARE try to say he had done nothing. I hadn't gone for the face or jaw, I wanted him to be able to cry and beg clearly.\n\n\"Well, I think we're almost done.\" I said coldly.\n\n\"Almost?\" He choked between sobs. \"LOOK at me! I'm gonna spend months in the hospital, and then I'm going to prison! How can you not be done?\"\n\n\"This pain will be gone in a few months...that woman is going to suffer her whole life because of you. These hands...\" I stepped on one...not even hard, but as they were already damaged the pain was no doubt excruciating. \"And that mouth...\" The bat, pointed RIGHT at his lips.\n\n\"And I won't? Turn me over to cops, please!\" He begged. \"We're even!\"\n\n\"Even?\" I laughed, a short bark of a thing I didn't even know I could produce. \"Oh, you poor, naive bastard.\" I held his chin up with the bat.\n\n\"How soon we forget when we're the one's paying...\"\n\nI wound my arms behind me as far as they'd go, aiming right for his cranium.\n\n\"...every debt comes with interest.\"\n\nCRACK" ]	3
	[WP] For a long time we thought sight was our most important sense	[ "For a long time we thought sight was our most important sense, but then the dark came. The elder herald had warned us of the coming dark and what it meant, but young and headstrong, we felt nothing could harm us. With the herald's passing and burial a few cycles ago the voice of reason was gone and yet we remained, arrogant as ever. That is, until the black plumes began appearing deep within the forest.\n\nScouting parties were sent each day as panicked whispers grew in volume throughout those of us left behind, and on the fourth morning as the new group gathered their gear a strange shape was spotted along the tree line. Slowly stumbling, falling over, and cautiously getting up again in a cycle lasting until the sun was at it's zenith, the outsider finally made it into view of our guards. Drawing their weapons, no one recognized this dark stranger until he called out for help. His voice carried the timbre of one of the guard's brothers, but his form had changed much in the time since he had left. A fluid blackness seemed to cover his entire being as though he wore a second skin.\n\nThe guard's brother was taken in by one of our healers, but nothing seemed to make a difference. In fact, it seemed a miracle that he had managed to wander back at all with his eyes covered as though stained in tar. In the little time he was allowed to talk with visitors his description of what had happened left much to the imagination. He often became more delirious as he went on until succumbing to sleep. From what little information we could draw, the only constant seemed to be the droning whine that bore through the head of each in his scouting party as they approached the blackened plumes. When pushed for more regarding the rest of his party or the groups sent after, the guard's brother would often break into a soft sob and refuse to speak for hours.\n\nA few days later, the piercing whine could be heard on the outskirts of the village. Panic set in, and in the clamor a fire broke out within the healer's home. Shrill screams from the blackened one, as he had become known, could be heard by those who tried to put it out. The fire continued to spread, the screams of the brother stopped, and soon they were replaced by those attempting to put out the flames. After a few hours most of the village was ash, but none had perished. \n\nEventually, we found one another including the guard's brother. After some discussion and tending to those under duress, our situation slowly came to light by the accounts of those who first tried to calm the fire. It seems that the smoke had spread the blackness to us all, protecting us from the flames, but removing our sight in the process. The drone of the forest continued to rise in volume and the air became cooler, but whether this was from the fire dying or the sun setting we could not tell. As we gathered what we could and set out into our perpetual night, we knew that sight would no longer be an ally and hoped that all of our enemies would be as prominent to our ears as what lay in the forest behind us." ]	1
	[WP] You're the leader of an FBI investigation of a crime organization, you finally get a tip on who the leader of the organization is only to find out, it's your own mother..	[ "\"I'm telling you Todd my mother is not a mobster, she's 74 for god sakes! It's impossible!\" I bark into the phone, beads of persperation forming on my forehead. My right foot pressing down the accelerator on the sleek black sedan. \n\n\"No Clara she's not a mobster she's a mob boss, they are two very different things.\" Todd's mousey voice squeaked out of the receiver. \n\n \"Oh and what do they call themselves, the Bitter Old Lady Brigade?!\" I questioned mockingly. Foot pressing harder, the needle quickly climbing. \n\nFive minutes, I will be at my mother's in five minutes, then I can find out for myself.\n\n\"No actually they call themselves the Mad Knitter Society. Their operation is quite witty. They knit the drugs into sweaters, and blankets, and such. Then they send them around the globe, packaging them like one would a present for a grandchild. It's quite clever.\" He said in admiration, forgetting I was on the other line.\n\n\"Alright Todd I'm almost there, I'll talk to my mother and we'll get this whole misunderstanding sorted away. \" Pulling the phone away in the middle of away, immediately tapping the red receiver icon. \n\nI whipped in along the curb, outside the old red colonial I grew up calling home. The neighborhood was mostly comprised of elderly citizens now, leading it to be at a constant state of eerie quiet. \n\nI left the car, wind nipping at my ankles, a stray cat rolling around in the Browning leaves of my mother's unkept yard. I took a deep breath as I made my way up the deteriorating stone steps. Knuckles striking the red door, chips of red fluttering to the ground with every strike.\n\n\"Coming!\" I hear the familiar cold voice pierce my ears in it's icy melody. \n\nThe door creaked open, security chain halting the movement abruptly. Her deep ocean eyes peaked at me through the crack, her signature peacock blue eye shadow billowing up to her penciled eyebrows. A smile grew across her face, wrinkles forming at the corners of her mouth. Teeth glimmering in an unoticable off-white. \n\n\"Hi dear, this is unexpected.\" She beamed.\n\n\"Ma, some people I work with are looking for you. They say you got wrapped up in some bad business. Please tell me this isn't true ma, that it's a big misunderstanding.\" I pleaded. \n\n\"It isn't true Clara.\" Her smile collapsing more with every word.\n\n\"Then why does the FBI think your a drug Kingpin?\" I bit my lip, a nervous tick.\n\n\"Heeeellllppp.\" I hear in a loud but weak croak from deep inside the house.\n\n\"Ma! What was that?!\" I shouted, my voice betraying me with a sharp crack.\n\n\"Always one for the dramatic Clara, that was just the neighbor. He needed a knitting lesson.\" She spat through her glimmering cherry lips, winking at me a mascara heavy lash bumbling with the sudden movement. \n\n" ]	1
	[WP] Write a story about someone who applies for the job of "videogame minion"	[ "\"It's a shitty job.\" \n\nA curlicue of smoke wafted in the breeze. \n\n\"It's a job.\" \n\n\"I get your point. It's hard enough to eat with the rations getting tighter these days. Say, how about you join my gang and-\" \n\n\"Denied.\" The cigarette was stubbed vigorously on the concrete rail, leaving a trail of ash behind. \"Stop asking, Adrian.\" \n\n\"Come on, what if you get permanently hurt, or maimed, you've got a kid to feed too-\" \n\nHe looked up. \n\nThe man standing next to him on the bridge stumbled back at his dark gaze. \"Heh. Haha. Just joking. Joking! I won't- won't bring up the kid again!\" \n\n\"Ha. Ha.\" he looked out at the river beneath the bridge and on to the slums beyond. \"Ha...\" \n\n\"Julian, you're a skilled problem solver.\" Adrian stammered. His features tightened. \"You've worked for the Families before. You were a legend and now you'll throw away your pride to be a toy soldier for one of Their simulations?\" \n\nLeather creaked as his hands fisted. Then he relaxed his hands. \n\n\"Pride?\" he turned half away. \"Adrian...I've held children hostage to murder their parents. I've tortured old men to gain their secrets. I've done all sorts of things without pride.\" \n\nHe held a fist up and held it towards the river, admiring his reflection in the tepid, polluted waters. \n\n\"But now...now I'm not living for just myself. Now I have my pride.\" he chuckled, \"It's more than I ever hoped to deserve from a tainted existence like mine.\" \n\nHis laugh grew, \"If I have to feel death- Again and again. If I have to experience pain and suffering from being cut down by incompetent 'fighters'...just to have that pride...\" a smile grew from the corner of his lips, \"Ah...\" \n\nAdrian retreated from his smile. \"You'll pay for this, Julian. You'll pay for your betrayal of the Families. For selling out your skills for the petty amusement of those stinking aristocrats!\" \n\n\"Oh...is it you who'll make me pay then?\" he raised his coat minutely, a flash of metal glinting in the shadows. \n\nAdrian fled. Julian smiled and turned. \n\nHe walked away, across the old bridge. He walked away, towards the other side of the bridge where the glittering half of the city shone. He walked away, disappearing quickly under the artificial lights.\n\n\"So this is the life of a 'virtual fool', huh...?\" \n\n", "\"Spike Bonecrusher?\" read the cheery blonde receptionist, peering over her desk and scanning the room until the brutish, unsightly orc in the chair to my right raised a scarred hand, \"Dreadmaster Pestilence will see you now.\" The hulking creature stood up, nearly hitting its steel helmet on the stone ceiling, and slung its giant battleaxe over its shoulder before lumbering into the room behind her, a steel shoulderpad knocking a torch over the wall and making the room even more ominously dark.\n\nTaking his place was a tiny, malnourished kobold, his armour littered with a variety of mismatched pockets. Burping, he turned towards me and flashed a toothy grin, the nauseating scent of rotten flesh invading every one of my immediate orifices. Not bad, if he wanted to make it to the preliminaries. \"Hello there! What're you in for?\"\n\nI turned away, directing my gaze towards two wraiths arguing over an ancient copy of Dungeon Delvers Weekly near the dead fishtank in the opposite corner, \"Janitorial duties, y'know the stuff.\"\n\n\"Oh, of course,\" He shoved his face back in front of mine, his smile unwavering, \"I know how hard it is for you normal human NPCs to get villain jobs since the Alpha days.\"\n\nI delicately pushed him away with the end of my mop. \"Yeah, that's how it goes. I was working in the Sewer level for a while there before it got cut. Nowadays it's nearly impossible to find work for cleaning bloodstains after the gore was patched out.\"\n\n\"Oh, you were Sewers? I know a guy who used to work too. Do you know James?\" the kobold asked expectantly as he retrieved a fish from one of his many pockets and began flossing his teeth with its gizzards.\n\n\"Vaguely... do you mean James Firegut, Third of the Rasmus Clan, Level Seven Dragon Priest of the Great God Theodrian and Killer of Knights? I remember chatting with him once, he was working at the rat spawners near the platforming section, placing the health pickups.\"\n\n\"Yes! He's my second cousin!\" the humanoid dragon jumped up and down in his seat, \"We used to dig tunnels together during Candlemas gatherings! Oh, those were the days. Until Produs was slaughtered by a Tunneling Worm, that is. But that's the way life goes.\"\n\n\"Mrs... Blob Cubings?\" the receptionist piped up again, and the huge gelatinous cube in the centre of the room began to slowly make its way towards the interview office, leaving a effervescent blue slime in its wake.\n\n\"Can you believe it!\" He continued as he turned to the creature to his right, a zombie who had been absentmindedly staring straight ahead of itself this entire time, \"We live in such a small world!\"\n\nThe zombie slowly turned its head towards us, its empty gaze holding for a second until something snapped and they was left face-first in their own torso, hanging only loosely by a section of floppy skin.\n\n\"Yeah,\" I agreed, \"It feels like it was only yesterday we were only concept art. Then it's all modelling and texturing and BAM! You're left without a job a month before the shipping date.\"\n\n\"Yeah, it's tough.\" the kobold looked around us before leaning in closer and putting his lips against my ear, \"Look, between you and me, I heard that there's a set of DLC dungeons in the Volcano Pits world coming out after release.\"\n\n\"I didn't know they were planning the DLC yet?\" I whispered back.\n\n\"Yeah, neither does anyone. But my friend, Garthin the Skullbreaker, he says that they've been having openings for post-game enemies. Pro players and all that.\"\n\n\"But that's an incredible XP farm!\" I said, looking over at the trio of mimics that were practicing being treasure chests and critiquing each other's work, \"You'd need to be, what, at least Level 50 to even consider it.\"\n\n\"Not exactly,\" he said, winking, \"I'm much too weak to think about that sort of thing. A janitor, on the other hand...\"\n\n\"Mister Jeremy Janitor?\" asked the lady at the desk, interrupting our conversation.\n\n\"That's me.\" I responded, waving.\n\n\"Dreadmaster Pestilence is waiting.\" I picked up my mop and started walking towards the door. I turned back right before entering to see the kobold grinning as madly as ever.\n\n\"Put in a good word for me! Say something about Thusk!\" He cried as i exited, jumping up and down as much as ever.\n\n\"Yeah, sure.\" I responded. \"Sure. Maybe one day I'll be cleaning your blood off of the cobblestones in the courtyard!\"\n\n\"I'd love that!\"", "\"Piece of cake, I'm telling ya. Icing thicker than his own skull.\" Peter hisses through gritted teeth, his barrel trained on the open warehouse.\n\n\"Chill out, he's probably a kid.\" I bicker. \"Maybe he sneaked on to his brother's computer, or something.\"\n\n\"Well he ain't a normal kid, let me tell ya!' He shouts. \"He's been through that doorway FIVE TIMES now and he ain't thought to shoot these FREAKING BARRELS THAT ARE RIGHT FUCKING HERE WITH ALL THEIR RED AND WHITE PAINT THAT FUCKING EXPLODE IF YOU HAVE THE HALF-WIT TO FUCKING SHOOT THEM. I COULD DRY HUMP THIS THING WITH IT SO CLOSE TO MY LEGS.\"\n\nA crack, and a bullet snaps off the railing. We sigh and crouch behind our cover. Player Two is hopping like a rabbit behind a grimy window, trying to get a better angle.\n\n\"He's trying to snipe with a pistol again.\" I mutter.\n\n\"Shoot the fucking barrel you pre-pubescent twit.\" Peter whispers with the air of a satanic hymn. \"If I miss my lunch break because of your sub-zero IQ, I swear I'll reach through your screen and wring your fucking neck.\"\n\n\"You know he can't hear you. We don't have dialogue enabled, and I don't think we ever will with your bloody temper.\" I snap at him. Another bullet cracks above our heads.\n\n\"I'm not an actor, I'm a KILLER. If my job is to give him a hard time of getting out of that warehouse, then that's what I'll do. I'm not some pansy who's gonna run out there as bait because he doesn't freaking deserve it.\"\n\nPeter suddenly raises his head and screams over the railing. A succession of cracking follows as bullets spark all around him.\n\n\"YOU HEAR ME? YOU DON'T DESERVE TO MAKE IT PAST THE TUTORIAL. WE DON'T REWARD FUCKTARDS.\"\n\nA snuffling sound, as if a dog has taken control of every announcement mic in the city. Its the headphones being removed. Now the muffled scratches stop, and we hear a series of voices, distant and crackling in the sky above us.\n\n\"-my computer-\"\n\n\"-just fiv-\"\n\n\"-gi-me th-\"\n\n\"-pleeeaaaseee-\"\n\n\"-out of my room!\"\n\n\"-mum sai-\"\n\n\"-kick your as-\"\n\n\"-unfa-I'm telling!\"\n\nThe slam of a door, and more muffled scratching.\n\n\"Must be his big brother.\" I chuckle.\n\n\"Great, a bigger dimwit.\" Peter spits.\n\nGlass crunches behind us. We turn, suspicious, to face the moving blur of Player One, having sprinted up the fallen crane, onto the freeway, and through the crashed bus to arrive right at our backs.\n\nMy brow raises in surprise, and is promptly split in half by a gold-tipped .48, in roughly the same millisecond as Peter is lobotomised by a flying knife. Our bodies enter rag-doll, and he's gone in a showering of XP icons. Steam notifies his achievement, and grants him Stealth Master. A chuckle emanates from the heavens, and our bodies hit the floor." ]	3
	[WP] You discover a "bug" in the fabric of the universe allowing you to copy paste anything.	[ "(note): I'm Canadian\n\nI immediately thought \"I'm gonna be rich\".\n\nBut everyone who wants money knows that mass theft or (more accurately) mass production would be hard to explain to the tax agencies. So I thought I would use this for a more devious purpose. Everyone knows that there aren't any nukes in Canada, so throw that out the window. The only thing I could really do in the case of being a serial killer was to double the \"bounty\" on my head, or bodies to hide, so that's a no-go. \n\nMy mind then jumped to Space Travel. So I thought it out very carefully, and decided that it would be too difficult. I then thought out loud, \"Does this work for intangible things?\".\n\nI conducted tests. I bought a Coffee. Before I rolled up the rim, I thought \"My Chance of getting the Civic is doubled\", then thought it again, then once more, then finished it off by doubling it again. Then, I realized that there are only 40 of them, so I did it 25 more times. I rolled it up, and boom, Honda Civic. I then drove into the sunset.", "I laid out on my back on the dewy grass gazing up at the stars.\n\nThere were two moons above instead of one.\n\nI mean, it's not like printing a moon is impossible. It just takes tens or even hundreds of years of drone-intensive labour, and billions or trillions of asteroids worth of raw materials.\n\nThis took six hours.\n\nAnd it was a total accident. \n\nI'm a scavenger. I explore abandoned planets and moons to dig up old space junk, broken drones, and landfill looking for raw materials to sell on the black market. One of my malfunctioning drones had picked up a spent warp core filled with decayed hawkingium from the lunar surface, and started breaking it down into its constituent components. \n\nThese drones are not supposed to do that. They know how dangerous decayed hawkingium is, especially when you start messing around with its molecular structure. That's why it's sequestered away underground on black planets guarded by huge swarms of Imperial combat drones. \n\nSo that's when the fireworks started. The sky filled with a swirling dark distortion. One moon broke off from the other. I prayed to the Light Being that I hadn't destroyed the universe, or opened a wormhole to another galaxy. I got into my cruiser and prepared to go to warp, to try and outrun the anomaly.\n\nMy prayers were answered. The distortion faded. In its place sat a new moon. A second moon. I'd been watching it for the last three hours.\n\nIf I could print new moons like this I'd be rich beyond my wildest dreams. Rich as an Ecclesian bombadier. I flicked a sinister smile. \n\nI'd figure it out.\n\nWhat could possibly go wrong?", "\"Mate, I'm not even going to ask how you found this out, but...\" I said, giving the bag a nudge. \"...if it works...\" My friend shrugged, pulling the giant dildo sword from his bag. \n\n\"Step back,\" he advised. \"This is going to be funny.\" Using the, er, blade of the dildo sword like the handle of a golf club, he hit the bag four times. The bag then exploded, sending the contents flying several feet away. Except it also hadn't - the bag was also still there. I had some questions. \n\n\"Is this why your girlfriend's been in the hospital? And did you sanitise all of them before selling them?\" \n\n\"Shut up and help me pick up the damn diamonds.\" " ]	3
You have complete control over all of your biological functions. You can control your circulatory system, your normally involuntary responses, etc. You can do anything your body is capable of doing or suppress it on demand. However, there's nothing otherwise special about your body's raw capabilities. Your body is otherwise decidedly average.	[WP] Your superpower: You can voluntarily control any of your bodily processes at will. You have been recruited as a spy. This is your story.	[ "The Empress didn’t recognize me with my long hair. I had grown it out yesterday, when that anarchist was after me. The buzzcut simply wouldn’t do for high society. Even though it had been years since Her Majesty had seen me last, she had a good memory. She wouldn’t likely forget I used to be a suspect for smuggling state secrets out of the Parliamentary offices. \n\nThe target was the Royal Advisor’s Committee. My hair had curled itself as I crouched in a corner at the dead drop outside the palace. I had reddened my lips, grown out my eyelashes to look as innocent as possible. This was going to be easy. \n\nGregory Iliad, the Head Advisor, furrowed his brow slightly as he saw me. I had tried to enhance my bust with padding, but I didn’t know if he could tell. “You are a newcomer, my lady,” he said. “I am Sir Gregory Iliad, Head Advisor to Her Majesty. We haven’t been acquainted yet. Whose family do you belong to?” \n\nI dilated my eyes. Not too much, not too much! He’ll think I’m absolutely insane. I laced my voice with a Hybridean accent. “I am of Hybridea, esteemed sir, the niece of the diplomat. We recently landed in port. To tell you the truth,” I giggled, “I haven’t seen much of the world, despite my eligibility. I’ve come for the season.” \n\n“Wonderful. Your name?” \n\nCrap, I forgot my alias. What was it, what was it… I manually switched my brain to the memory section. “Lady Ingrid Thymson.” \n\n“I don’t believe the diplomat is named Thymson… you must be his maternal niece.” \n\n“Indeed.” \n\n“I would be honored to make your lady’s acquaintance. Forgive me for being too forward, but may I have this dance?” \n\n“I apologize, dear sir, but I have need of leave to the powder room.” \n\nHe frowned at my candidness. “Very well then, Lady Ingrid. I will save a dance for you.” \n\nWalk slowly. Don’t make a sound. I scurried out of the room to the butler’s pantry. The dead drop had a servant’s uniform, but I didn’t have much time. The butler wasn’t there, thank god. \n\nI pulled out a substantial flask, putting a drop of liquid in every aerating wine I could find. There was punch. I made sure to take care of that too. Was there time to go to the kitchen?\n\nJackpot. The main dishes, and the kitchen staff hadn’t seen me. I emptied the flask onto the meats and came back. \nAfter I had giggled my way through several dances with Sir Blah, I sat down to eat. I chose the meat and some vegetables that hadn’t been touched, and a glass of wine. \n\nThe Empress raised a toast to the glory of the empire. Everyone drank. A portly courtesan was affected first. He dropped, eyes watering, to the floor. The rest of the court had scarcely drawn a gasp when they went down too. I tried not to smile as they went down like dominoes, thump, thump, thump. The eyes of the Empress rolled back as she twitched. \n\nThe man I had danced with was unaffected. He looked at me in the eyes. “I don’t drink, and I am abstinent from meat, you disgusting wretch. How dare you-” \n\nI induced vomit and threw up all over his clothes, purging the poison from my system. He was too shocked to see me slit his throat in an instant. \n\nJob well done. But now I really needed to use the bathroom. " ]	1
	[WP] You're pretty sure the mailman is giving you secret messages every day.	[ "My move away from home ended up being the greatest thing that has ever happened to me. I never thought leaving my hometown would be in the cards, but things happen, people die, family starts to suck and places lose their luster. I know I may be painting with a broad brush here, but that is how things worked out for me. I lost my brother to a long and tumultuous battle with prostate cancer. I saw it through every day, from beginning to end and I hugged his withered frame of 155 pounds when he took his last breath. It changed me for the better, there is no denying that but sometimes, changing for the better means disconnecting from the old and that is exactly what I did a month after my brother passed.\n\nI packed my car up, hugged my sweet mom tightly and jetted off into the sunset with a couple of grand to my name and my dog, Bully. We left on a humid summer day in August. The windows were cracked and my old Honda civic was humming along towards a new beginning. In the moment, I was stricken with more grief than I could bare but I know my brother and I know he would kick my ass if I set in that small town and withered away like he did.\n\nI found a new home in a small town outside of Chicago called Galena. The place seemed reasonable in price, as far as finding a home went and I ended up getting a two bedroom apartment for a moderate monthly payment of $650. Luckily, that would end up giving me a little extra spending money and some time to go job hunting.\n\nThe people of Galena were incredibly friendly and almost every person I met within my age group seemed more than welcoming. Oddly enough, the first person I met who WAS my age was a mailman named Cody. Cody came by my little condo the first morning I moved in, knocking hard as he could, as if he were my best friend already. I rushed to answer the door and there he was, decked out in his USPS attire and an outstretched hand with a single blue envelope dangling for me.\n\n\"Hi there buddy, my name is Cody. Cody Templeton. As you can see, I will be your mail guy\", he said, as he used his hands to Vanna White his work outfit.\n\n\"Hey man, my name is Jared, it's a pleasure to meet you! What do you have for me?\", I asked, my curiosity at having a piece of mail already taking over the conversation.\n\n\"Oh, this here?\", he said, looking down at the envelope. \"This here is yours and I caution you to open it up when the time is right.\"\n\nMy eyebrows shifted down in confusion, an apparent blank expression filled my face.\n\n\"Now, I got a years worth of these things, so I'll be coming everyday to hand them to you. Like I said, you will know when to open them up. Anyways, time is money and the man doesn't like time wasted! I am off, it was great to meet you Jared!\"\n\nHe quickly handed me the envelope and sped walk out of there before I could utter another syllable. I stood in my doorway, flabbergasted by the blue envelope. Everything was written in familiar handwriting but I could not put together whose it was.\n\nThis here is yours and I caution you to open it up when the time is right\n\nWell, if he knew anything about me, he knew the time was right. I am the most impatient person ever, especially when it comes to surprises. I gently slide my pocket knife through the adhesive below the flap and flip open the letter. A single piece of paper was folded up neatly. As I unfolded it, my heart nearly jumped out of my chest.\n\nDear little brother,\n\nI am so proud of you for making the move. I know you are broken right now but I just wanted to tell you how much I love you. You don't know how much it means to me that you spent every night with me. I'll take that to the afterlife and shout it from the mountain tops (if they even have those, of course). Anyways, this one will be short but be prepared, I got a lot of good stuff to tell you over this next year. And stop crying please, you make this about as fun as getting kicked in the shin\n\nLove you to the moon buddy\n\nThe last sentence made me smile but that bastard predicted it perfectly. I had already soaked the letter from the instant rush of hard fallen tears. As nice as it was to hear from him, even if he had passed, I still didn't know how the hell he got my address. At the time, I had no idea who that Cody guy was, and all I did know was that he was giving off an unexplained vibe.\n\nI quickly realized Cody was the messenger my brother spoke of on his death bed. When he mentioned it, I just brushed it off, assuming it was insane talk deriving from his medications and an impending death.\n\nBoy, was I wrong.\n\nFor the next year, those letters kept coming and so did the tears. The letters were not about anything specific. They were not profound thoughts on living a better life or some in-depth directions that would take me around the world in his memory. They were just him, talking and discussing our favorite things about life and reminiscing on our beautiful relationship we got to share for 37 years. Those letters were just him... and he knew that was what I needed to survive the year.\n\nHe knew I needed just a little bit more time with him and I thank God for his kind heart to make that happen.\n\n\n", "\"Blue Rabbit has gone rogue. Suggest meeting?\" Had been the most recent message. 30-year-old Jack Gardner did not understand where these scraps of paper, with vague and random messages, were coming from, but he was beginning to suspect the mailman. At first, he though it must have been some neighborhood kids pulling some sort of elaborate prank, but the messages had been so strange that Gardner could not understand what the point was. \n\nNow he was growing concerned, this was the first message that said anything about meeting someone.\n\nAfter studying the recordings from his front-yard security camera, he was certain that the only person who had access to the mailbox was the postman. So... he would have to confront the man some time. Or call the police? He wasn't sure which to do yet.\n\nMaybe it was nothing really. Some harmless fun that the mailman was having, perhaps? Jack would have to find out.\n\nThe next day Gardner finally decided to talk to the man. He waited for the mailman to show, and he stepped out to greet him.\n\n\"Morning! Can I have a word with you?\" Gardner shouted in a friendly tone. The mailman looked his way and suddenly became nervous. \n\"That's strange.\" Gardner thought. \"What's there to be nervous about?\" \n\n\"We really shouldn't talk in the open.\" The mailman worriedly. \n\n\"Why not?\" Gardner questioned, confusion evident on his face.\n\nThe mailman became even more skittish and replied. \"Look, I just deliver the messages for you guys, I don't want to be any more involved than that.\"\n\nHe handed Gardner his mail and hurried off. Jack was even more confused now. Looking through his mail, Gardner found another note in the pile. It simply read. \"I need a reply. You may be in danger.\" Gardner was shaken after seeing the words.\n\n\"If this was a prank, this had gone too far.\" He thought. Gardner decided there and then that he would go to the police about this.\n\nAnd so he did. The police assured Gardner that they would look into the matter and told him to go home. They said that they would send a patrol to his house to make sure no one was stalking him.\n\nThat night, Gardner awoke to the sound of gunfire. In a panic, he ran into his bathroom and locked the door.\n\nNext door, his newly moved-in neighbor laid dead in his home. Unknown to Gardner, his neighbor was the handler for an assassin, codenamed \"Blue Rabbit.\" After all this time, the mailman had been sending the coded reports to the wrong house, a mistake which had cost the handler his life as well as the police officers who had gone to investigate the disturbance.\n\nAfter that terrifying night, Jack Gardner never saw the mailman again.\n", "You could never forget his smile.\n\nIt lingered in his eyes as he handed you the letters. Bills for a 'previous occupant', who had stopped answering his phone years ago. Bills for you. You were not spared the tax of society, though you wish you had been. Despite what you believed as a child, you hadn't turned out special.\n\nNo real mail. No one ever sent you anything anymore. Not since your parents had gotten sick, and you had moved here.\n\nBut it wasn't normal, for him to ring the doorbell to hand out letters. There was nothing stopping him from slipping them in through the mailslot, the way you were sure he did for everyone.\n\nBut he always took the time for you. Always stopped, with a jaunty little smile that you always thought was fond.\n\nAnd he did things. Things you could write off, that could always have been coincidences, but all the same...\n\nIt made you grateful to him.\n\n\n\nOne day, there was a coupon for an all you can eat restaurant down the street, mixed in with your mail. It had made you able to eat there. Money had been tight, ever since your stipend ran out.\n\nIt was nice to eat out and have fun, and not worry about how you were going to pay for your classes anymore. Even if you went right back to worrying about it as soon as you got back to your dingy room with the cracked paint and peeling ceiling.\n\nYou'd laid on your bed and stared up on it, and thought and thought, but he'd been able to take your mind off it for a while.\n\nEven if he was just handing out advertisements. You didn't know what you were doing, reading so much into this. You were lonely, you suppose. \n\nSomeone had given you a card on Valentines day. You didn't have any acquaintances, much less any friends.\n\nIt wasn't signed and it didn't have a return address but it'd made you cry.\n\nYesterday he smiled at you as he handed you the letters. He asked you how your mother was.\n\nShe was in a nursing home, he could not have known. But all the same you'd felt exhausted caring for her, like no one cared for you.\n\nYou'd stammered out an explanation, and a nervous thanks.\n\nAnd the next day you'd lingered at the door for him, you could not help yourself.\n\nThe nerves beat in your stomach as you waited to answer the door. Thud thud thud. Or maybe that was your heart.\n\nThe door opened with a creak, and he was there, as he always was.\n\nHis uniform had never fit. It hung off his lanky body.\n\nBut you didn't care.\n\nHe was the only person who made time for you, who noticed as the hours plodded on and you were alone in your decaying apartment, making all the decisions for aging parents who were too old when they had you.\n\nYou had felt something new blossom in your chest. Something new, and vulnerable. It had crept up on you gradually, all along.\n\nYou'd reached out and taken the letters. Your hand shook as you did it.\n\nIt was then or never. You didn't know when you'd have the courage to face him again, and you were spurred by the warm thing blooming inside you.\n\n\"Hey, um, thanks for always bringing my mail. I was- I was wondering-\"\nYou forever regret it, but your face had bloomed crimson as you stammered. You twisted your hands, but the mail was caught between them and it became crumpled.\n\n\"Do you...want to go on a date sometime?\"\n\nOh god, who's desperate enough to ask out the mailman? You were ashamed of yourself, he barely knew you.\n\nBut he was cute, and you liked his smile, and isn't that really what matters?\n\nAnd he smiled then, that jaunty little smile that always seemed to reach his eyes when he smiled it around you.\n\n\"I'd...I'd like that.\"\n\nAnd that was when your life began.", "I've been ordering crap from Amazon for a week. From speedos to Chinese watches, I've stored them all in my garage. \n\nWhy? Because I'm still missing a letter. A letter that can finally change my life for the better. A letter that will determine my future actions. A letter that will finish the puzzle: GO TO M-. Is it MN, as in Minnesota? Is it ME, as in Maine? Or is it one of the other six possibilities? Or it could mean something else, like a pattern? Or morse code?\n\nAm I going insane? Probably, but I'VE GOTS TO KNOW!\n\nIt all started with my first order: a pair of green headphones. Before handing the package over, he scribbled the letter G on it. \n\nThen came an orange shirt. Same story, different letter: an O this time. \n\nI didn't think it was that important, but it felt like the mailman was making a conscious effort to help me notice it. He always stared at me before writing it. He always wrote it carefully and clearly. \n\nTherefore, with research in mind, I ordered another package. After all, if I didn't look into a pattern, what kind of scientist would I be? I got my turtleneck in a couple of days and it came with a big T. The riddle was starting to take shape. \n\nI kept ordering crap and letters kept appearing. The message was clear: GO TO M-. Only one letter is missing. \n\nSo I sit here, waiting for my xylophone. The mailman should be here any minute now. I hear footsteps approaching my front door. Knocking down a couple of books in the process, I rush to meet the messenger. He hands over my xylophone, this time with a big X written over the package. \n\nGO TO MX. The message is complete. MX? My Xanax? Mexico! It's Mexico!\n\n\"It's Mexico!\" I yell at my dear messenger. He stares at silently, with a strange look in his eyes. He turns away and heads towards his car. Of course, he has to play it cool! To not raise any suspicion with the neighbors. \n\nI quickly head to my computer and book my flight. I choose the earliest flight: tomorrow at 5 A.M. ", "You didn't even really need twine to put the connections together. I mean I still used it, but that’s not to say it was necessary. There’s just something so satisfying about pinning a taught piece of string into the wall, immaculately placed just below a grainy portrait. Such a symbolic representation of how human beings are connected. The realoty of that line so entrenched in a much bigger story. But there it is, sitting in front of you clear as day.\n\nHis name was Jim Seward. Had been working at the United States Post Office for over twenty years. Had spent more time sitting in his little van than he ever spent with his children. Timothy and Jen, both live with their mother in Seattle. Jim was sober for nearly a decade, but the knot had been frayed enough that there was no chance for repair. After enough midnight calls and emergency room visits his wife fled. Jim deserved to be alone. There’s no doubt in my mind about that. \n\nWestville is a town of 4,761 people. Almost all of them can trace their roots back to the formation of the town in the mid-19th century. A coal mine attracting the unfavorable members of the Revolution. And as their families grew and industry shifted, the town now sits at the intersection of two highways. That merger accounting for the sole economic driver, the unrested and the weary. Hotels, fast food, outlet stores. Westville is a town of excesses and last choice amenities. \n\nJim’s family came to the town late. Well comparatively speaking. In the early twentieth century, his great grandfather became a Medal of Honor recipient due to some unmentioned heroic act in World War One. And as the reporters fled to this tiny mining town, more and more “out of towners” found root in its quaintness. And immediately left when they realized how much of a shit-hole it really was. And with the town in ruins, the Federal Highway Act in the 1950’s a savior from an unlikely place.\n\nThis is all to say that Jim’s family was met with scorn and indignation. Seen as the sole reason for the swift downfall of the city. A perfect scapegoat for the mine shutting down. An east-coast immigrant who brought unwanted attention to their walled off utopia. So when Jim’s wife fled with the children, he was demonized, left to die in the confines of his home. And well the sliding door of his mail truck. And that’s where he found his refuge.\n\nAnd well, I suppose that’s where he began to plot his revenge. Revenge against the town, against his wife, against the unrepentant nature of his maligned existence. So he left clues in everyone’s mail. That passive aggressive little fucker. Would make small little changes to your mail. Add an extra zero to your bills, change the name on your paycheck, throw out a letter from your dying aunt. I mean he was never caught. But I caught him. And that’s all that really mattered.\n\nAll I ask is that you please don’t lecture me about being crazy. This isn’t that. I’m not that crazy, I vet my sources. Linda Johnson down the street. She’s a goddamn saint. And you know what happened to her? She got an eviction notice in the mail. Was told that she had to pay $50,000 dollars in unpaid mortgage payments or they’d take her house. So she went and sold all of her possessions. Borrowed money from just about anyone. Took out some loans from some real shady people. And you know what happened? She went down to the bank and they said she owned her house outright, that she didn’t owe a goddamn thing.\n\nOr how about Clarence Howard, his father across the country was falling more and more ill due to Alzheimer’s disease. And not even an hour after getting off the phone with him, Clarence received a letter in the mail from the hospital saying that he owed $25,000 in charges after the death of his father. How could the hospital send him a bill if Clarence was literally just talking with his father?\n\nAnd then it happened to me. He must have known I was on his case, and tried to get me out of the picture. And of course it probably didn’t help that I called for the revitalization of public shaming laws, simply to make a mockery of his failing life. But still, he deserved it. Anyway, this guy had the gall to have a handwritten letter sent from my 97-year-old grandmother. Saying that she is disowning me and removing me from her will.\n\nI tried to do it the right way. Brought all my evidence down to the police station. And you’d all be proud of me. I even left the twine at home. I don’t remember all that the officer said. Something something circumstantial something something. But it was clear that they weren’t going to be any help. So I hatched a plan. Nothing brilliant, I’m not going to try and make it out that I was some mastermind. And am I ashamed of what I did? Of course not, like I’ve said over and over again, he deserved it.\n\nI took a page out of Jim’s own book. Sent a letter to his estranged wife, alerting her to the death of her former husband. That she was still the named beneficiary of his life insurance but that she’d have to return to Westville to claim it. Well of course Jim was alive, for the time at least. The hard part was getting him nice and drunk. Took some serious berating on my end. But I broke through. Found him at the bar sloshed off his rocker by 4:00PM.\n\nThat’s when I alerted him to the presence his ex-wife and children no more than a half mile down the street. Their plan to arrive at the bank at five, just before close. In and out. And without a second glance, Jim stumbled out of the bar like a man on a mission. It was from here that my plan really ended. I knew he’d do something stupid. And of course he obviously did the worst thing he possibly could do. Because you know, he was a terrible person.\n\nSwerving down the road like a man with genocidal tendencies to curbs, Jim flipped his mail truck onto his ex-wife’s car sitting in the parking lot of the bank. I won’t hold anyone in tension. No, they weren’t in the car. I wouldn’t be proud if he killed his own children. What do you think I am a goddamn lunatic? Anyways, bleeding, broken arm, he stumbled into the bank and tried to kidnap his own goddamn children.\n\nMakes it about a hundred feet down the road before he was caught. Not by anyone in particular but by a combination of blood loss, inebriation, a lifetime of bad decisions, and the crushing weight of his meek and pointless existence. In the end he was sentenced to twelve years in prison for DUI, theft of government property and attempted kidnapping. I was hoping for longer. But I mean, twelve years is more than enough time for me to plot something better, something that will put him away forever.\n ", "\"Laser eye surgery!\" Rusty Nub wrapped his Vienna sausage fingers around the bulky stalk of his little red, white, and blue mailbox and throttled the wooden plank straight down to the topsoil. \"I ain't blind! I see plenty good!\"\n\nThe slick postcard-sized flyer fell to the ground, where it made a place in the crooked pile of castaway postage. \n\n\"This is the last straw!\" And it was, in that Rusty Nub stomped directly from his mailbox to the bus stop, neverminding his open front door and all the groceries he'd left on the doormat. He tap-tapped his left foot and scowled a hole straight through the empty space where the bus would eventually materialize. At least two people decided to take a later bus on the strength of Rusty Nub's scowling.\n\nRusty Nub rode the bus all the way down to Smith Street, then clomped his way over to the Post Office, which - perhaps knowing what was coming - was trying to close itself down in a hurry.\n\n\"We close at 4:30,\" said a woman in blue with a face like a shaved cat. \"Come back tomorrow. Open bright an' early at 3pm sharp.\"\n\n\"I wanna talk to a manager,\" said Rusty Nub, nearly blowing the word 'manager' out of existence, he hit it so hard. \n\n\"That's me,\" said the woman, who looked less like a shaved cat and more like a ferret trying make something of itself, now that Rusty Nub'd had a better chance to look at her.\n\n\"My mailman's harassin' me,\" said Rusty Nub. \"I want him fired! And exiled. But not anywhere nice.\"\n\n\"Harassin' how?\" said the woman boss, squaring up her shoulders and wobbling her head like she didn't believe a word of it. \n\n\"Leavin' messages in my mailbox!\" shouted Rusty Nub, feeling the force of it all over again. His arms rose up in the air, independent of Rusty Nub's wishes.\n\n\"Leavin' mail?\" said the supervisor woman.\n\nRusty Nub nearly spat. \"Filth. Hatefulness. He left me a flyer for an open house across town. An open house! He's sayin' my house isn't good enough. My house is perfectly fine!\"\n\n\"That's just an ad,\" said the mail lady. \"Everyone gets 'em.\"\n\nRusty Nub snapped his fingers. \"A catalog! Full! Of! Women's underwear! How's a man like me supposed to react to that? Huh?\"\n\n\"Mistake,\" said the Post Office harpy, shrugging. \"One most men wouldn't complain about...\"\n\nRusty Nub wiped the sweat off his face. He was feeling faint with rage. \"Credit card offers! Like I ain't got any money. Dentist coupons! Like there's anything wrong with my teeth. Letters from the IRS! Like I owe the government anything! It's a travesty! I want him hanged! No! Burned at the stake! No! Hire him back, then let me fire him!\"\n\nBut the letter gargoyle just shook her head. \"Sir, you oughta learn to not get so riled about these things. Hardly anything is half as bad as you make it out to be.\"\n\nShe walked off, disappearing into the darkened Post Office, leaving Rusty Nub with no satisfaction and no money for a bus fare. He walked home.\n\nInside the Post Office, they watched Rusty Nub as he muttered and growled his way down to the end of the block. \"Daniel,\" barked the manager. \"That one yours?\"\n\nDaniel nodded. \"Yes ma'am.\"\n\n\"He's just about ready to crack,\" she said. \"Tomorrow, I think you oughta bring him an ad for liposuction, a stack of coupons for that bad breath gimmick we've got, and... we have any more of those erectile dysfunction pamphlets?\"\n\nDaniel smiled. \"Plenty.\"\n\n\"Good, good,\" said the manager, steepling her fingers in an almost perversely malevolent manner. \"Neither snow, nor rain, nor heat, nor gloom of night shall stay us from the swift completion of our appointed duty... to fuck with er'y'body...\"\n\nThey laughed as one, shouting glory to Satan, sniffing stamps, and rubbing their collective dicks on all of the envelopes. \n\nTruly, it was a wondrous time to be evil. " ]	6
	[WP]When something negative happens to a human, something positive will happen to a specific 'corresponding human' and vise versa. One day you realize your SO is your 'corresponding human.	[ "It was crazy how I met Jet. It was one of those really bizarre weather day in Melbourne. Those days where there are four unpredictable seasons in a day. I ran out onto Collins Street and tripped over a crack in the pavement. There he was standing prepared with an umbrella standing over an unprepared, drenched in rain water from head to toe. He reached his hand out to mine but my soaking wet fingers slipped and I fell right onto my coccyx.\n\nI should have known then. I should have realised and seen all the red flags. You see within the seven billion people in this world. There is one person who experiences the exact opposite of you. Meaning that when something positive happens to you, the exact opposite happens to the other person, in one way or another. I remember when we started dating, I was fired as the Editor of the Age, Jet was promoted within Commonwealth Bank. When I received a job offer with the Herald Sun, Jet was made redundant. Yet we dated. Crazy. I know. We never realised. It was just a matter of never thinking that in a billion years the opposite to me was Jet. There were so many people in this world, so many people who count have been the opposite, yet we managed to meet and even date. \n\nIt was until today that I realised that he was my opposite.\n\nThe weather was similar to that of when we first met. The day started with the sun high up in the sky as we drove down to visit Jet's parents in Ballarat. By the time we reach Ballan, the weather took a turn for the worst with the rain pouring down upon us. The windshield was covered in water even though the wipers were working at full speed. We were excited, just as most couples are, to share the good news with the family. \n\nJust like that. It was just like that. When you're about to face death, you feel the time run slow, the motions are exemplified. I felt fear when the kangaroo appeared in front of us. To one side was a rocky, unforgiving mountain, the other was silver raising which would not save us if we turned left to avoid the kangaroo. Jet let go of the steering wheel and turned his body and lunged himself in front of me. \n\nWe never spoke about the possibility that we might be opposites but it was as if he knew all along. As I stand staring at his lifeless body on the white bed, I can't help but feel of pain rush though my stomach. There was no way both of us could have survived that crash. That is the way the opposite works. It was only just fate. " ]	1
	[WP] Our last act of defiance was to burn and destroy all instruction manuals. Unable to figure out how stuff works, aliens now have to live among malfunctioning tech, overflowing sewage, and a legion of fire alarms on low battery.	[ "When they came, nobody agreed on what to do. It wasn't clear that they wanted to destroy us. They arrived in space, their ships seeming battered and bruised, and hung in the heavens as we watched them. We made an effort to contact them, but there was no response. It was interesting, to say the least, those first few weeks. Those first couple of weeks when the world wasn't sure what was happening and all the previous tensions dropped for a moment to check this out. \n\nIt was interesting, and there was peace. \n\nBut it didn't last. It started on January 21st, when the fleet suddenly mobilized and started descending. It took a total of eight hours for the first ships to settle down, right outside Washington D.C. It wasn't the whole fleet. Just a small portion. I don't know why they choose that spot to land, but we didn't fire back at them. At that point, we assumed it would be peace. We had dreams running through our heads of being bought into a new age, a whole era. \n\nOur dreams didn't last, however. The ship opened up, and they came. They slaughtered Washington, they defeated the military presence, and they refused to talk. By the time Washington was over, they had already started the attack on Moscow, on Bejing, on London, on Paris, on Berlin, on Rome, on Istanbul, on Tokyo. There was some people prepared. Moscow was swiftly retaken by the Russian Army, and Berlin and London fared well, but the other places fell fast under the overwhelming assault of our enemies. That wasn't going to satisfy them. They didn't look like killers, in fact they were sort of cute looking, but they had a bloodthirsty desire to destroy, and conquer. \n\nAnd nobody was going to come save us.\n\nThere were some initial pushbacks we made, some initial defenses and successes, but no matter what we were always losing somewhere, and never winning anywhere. It was a constant battle against a force which seemed to be able to be everywhere, at anytime. Within weeks, it was clear that we would lose. Although at times we seemed able to match them, we couldn't deal with their Spaceships, and their artillery support. Within the first month, we knew that there was only one way we could win. \n\nWe started to learn about them, try to figure out where they came from. It wasn't easy, but Earth Defense Force Division 42, which I was a member of, managed to determine the origins of their species after a raid onto one of their crashed ships, and we the information back to Intel Divisions, and we figured out what they were. Apparently, there had been driven from their home planet by some other race, and in desperate need of somewhere to stay, they found Earth. However, Earth happened to be inhabited by some race already, and so the only course of action they could decide on, was to remove the current inhabitants. \n\nThey were scared, honestly. And that sort of saddened me when we got our next mission. Because these people had been driven from their home, and had been so afraid of us rejecting them the only choice they had was to destroy us first. \n\nBut I couldn't dwell on that, we had to find some way of maybe dealing with them. The side effect of being driven off their planet meant that their supply situation wasn't very good. That explained why after a while they had started using our weapons they captured. However, they didn't seem very understanding of our guns. They had figured out the basics, but it was clear they couldn't figure out the details. So, we determined a course of action.\n\nWe knew we were going to lose, so Earth Defense Force Division 42 was tasked with the most dastardly plan ever conceived: We were going to destroy all possible sources of information on how to handle our technology. In time, their race would die before they could learn how to work our more complicated things that are needed. And so we were going to hide a faction of Humanity hidden away, and when the invaders died off we'd reclaim our planet. \n\nAnd this is what we did. We left a world without repairmen for our enemies to conquer. We made suicidal bombing runs to destroy key parts of captured infrastructure. We did everything we could to wipe out all sources of information on this world. We blew up libraries, Internet Databases, everything. And in the end, I was the last member of Earth Defense Force Division 42, the last man still tasked with the mission. To my knowledge, Humanity is sealed away and hidden. And the bastards will never find them. \n\nSoon enough, I'll be heading back out to destroy an anything more I can find. But I'm leaving this here, for two reasons. The first is that maybe, in a long while, Humanity will return, find this, and know what we did. And why we did it. They'll remember what we've suffered, and remember what it means to keep fighting. \n\nThe other reason, is so that if any of the alien bastards find it, they'll know. They'll understand, as all of the bastards are starving to death in their ruined world, that we are still out there. Laughing in their stupid faces. They'll know. \n\nAnd nobody wants to know they are living in their coffin. " ]	1
	[wp] The most boring, unimaginative, and uncreative person in the world acquires a Genie.	[ "Todd slumped his shoulders and exhaled. He held the genie lamp up in one hand, and rubbed it with the other.\n\nThe lamp began to shake, so Todd placed it on the ground. Smoke began enthusiastically pouring out of the lamp. While he was watching the lamp, he felt somebody tapping his shoulder.\n\nTodd turned around and saw a bald shirtless man wearing thick golden wrist bands. He looked quite powerful. \"I am Bhebul the Bold. You have woken me and I must grant you three wishes. Be warned that I will grant you exactly the words you wish. Speak carefully.\" Todd looked carefully at Bhebul. He looked extremely eager.\n\nTodd looked at the genie, and dryly said, \"Well, I could go for a snack. How about: I wish for an apple.\"\n\nBhebul the Bold stared at Todd. His smug smile slowly faded away. \"You mean you want just an apple? You could wish for anything at all, and you choose an apple.\" Bhebul stared at Todd for a minute, \"Okay...okay. You can have your apple.\" He snapped his fingers and an apple appeared in Todd's hand. Todd took a bite and slumped over. The genie maniacally laughed.\n\nAn hour later and Todd stretched his arms and yawned. He opened his eyes and saw the genie looking at him. \"You didn't say the apple had to be nontoxic!\" He maniacally laughed again.\n\nTodd stretched and slowly got up, \"Well, thank you. I also needed to rest. That wish was like a twofer. Do you want to count it as two?\"\n\nThe genie stared at Todd wide-mouthed. He had to summarize what was happening to try to help him understand. \"You made one wish and are asking me if we can count that as two.\" The genie looked up at the sky and continued talking to himself, \"Well, this has never happened before.\" He then turned to face Todd again, \"Ok, you get three wishes. You made one. You have two more.\"\n\nTodd looked at the genie blankly, \"Well, okay. The sun's nearly set now and I could really go for a good cuppa tea before supper. Sorry, let me phrase that better for you. I wish for a good cup of tea.\" He thought for a second, then added, \"Oh, non-toxic too.\" He winked at the genie.\n\nBhebul the Bold looked up at Todd, then started slowly shaking his head. \"Now you want tea...Okay.\" He snapped his finger and a steaming mug appeared in Todd's hand. \n\nTodd smelled the tea deeply. The genie watched but didn't laugh this time. \"It's just tea. It's not going to make you hallucinate, or fall asleep, or anything.\n\n\"Cheers, mate!\" He took a sip. \"You know what would go well with this? A blueberry scone. I have one wish left, right?\"\n\nThe genie snapped his fingers and a scone appeared in Todd's other hand. He pointed at the scone, \"That one's on the house.\" The genie moved his finger pointing to the two of them. \"You know, this whole thing we're doing isn't fun unless the person making a wish is more ambitious.\"\n\nTodd took a bite of the blueberry scone. \"This is delicious.\" Thank you.\"\n\nThe genie was mumbling about places that Todd might leave the lamp when he was done. \"Maybe outside a business school, or in an NBA locker room.\"\n\nTodd looked at the genie, \"For my last wish, I would very much like to enjoy every sunset just like this, with a cup of tea and a scone.\"\n\nThe genie looked at Todd and seemed impressed. \"There you go, that's something at least. You know what, I'm going to just give it to you. I can't imagine how the rest of your life is that you wish for an apple and some tea. You can have it.\" He snapped his fingers.\n\nHaving granted three wishes, smoke started appearing to pull the genie back into his lamp. He watched as Todd's entire demeanor changed. Todd pulled his shoulders back and threw the cup and scone over his shoulder. The genie looked at him trying to comprehend what had happened. Todd looked at him as he faded away, \"Thank you, Bhebul. I'll enjoy every sunset for the next 3.25 billion years.\"\n\n*\n\nIf you liked this, check out other stories I've written at https://www.reddit.com/r/neromike/", "I'm the Genie, you rubbed the lamp, let's get to it. What is your first wish?\n\nCould you change the channel for me?\n\nThe channel?\n\nI'm done with this channel. The next one please. Just hit the channel up button.\n\nWell it's easier than the usual \"gimme a bigger penis\" leadoff request.\n\nMy penis is big enough, thank you.\n\nOh yeah? How big? Asking for a friend.\n\nNine pounds, six ounces.\n\nWhoa.\n\nSo there's really not much more I need with this kind of peen. Now, then, for my second request, I wish for you to tell me a joke.\n\nYou know you only get three of these, right?\n\nNo, but can I realize that for my third wish?\n\nYeah, I guess. And there you go. Wow, that was easy.\n\nWait, what about my joke?\n\nOh, right. Let's see. What do you get when you cross--\n\nBoring!\n\nStill counts. Genie out. (disappears)*\n\n(waving) Bye bye!\n\n(artful fade to black with sad orchestral music, credits roll)\n ", "\"What do you desire?\"\n\nRaw power leaked out of the lamp, dark tendrils that snaked through the air like the ocean in storm. \n\nGenie, father of genii, looked down upon the young man impassively as he waited for a command.\n\nThe young man’s face was scrunched up in thought. “I want it so that whatever I want to do, I will be able to see it through and give it my all. Genie, I wish for a mental discipline of steel, as unbending as the march of time, so that I may see to success all my goals and dreams.” \n\nGenie smiled. A single tendril of pure black shot away from the lamp and into the man’s chest. “You will have it.”\n\nThe young man paused for a moment, then continued. “For my second wish, I want a mental acuity to rival that of the greatest tacticians, leaders, and scholars. I will have it so that I will be able to see the path to success, as well as its consequences, so that I may avoid any traps that might befall me.”\n\n“You shall have it.”\n\nBefore the man could begin his third wish, the Genie interrupted. “Mortal. I rained fire and ice upon this world. I have seen to the rise and fall of ancient kingdoms. I was the instrument of the diseases that ravaged the lands. My whispers have brought both war and peace, and summoned and dismissed death.”\n\nThe Genie’s eyes burned. They were true-red, red as flame. He gazed intently into the man’s eyes. “Never, however, has an individual wished for the power to bring about the any path through their own hands. Always I have been the tool. Tell me, mortal, what is it that you wish to accomplish!”\n\nThe young man held his hands up and was backing away. “Woah man, I don’t want any of that. I respect your powers and all, but I just want to live my own life. I want to get through school, get a good job, have a nice family and home, and live peacefully, you know? Look man, I’m already happy with what I got today, and I’m super grateful, don’t get me wrong. I think it’s a good thing to live within your means, be grateful for what you have, and don’t be too greedy, you know? Look, I don’t have anything else I want that I wouldn't be able to get, I think. For my final wish, I just want to hear your story.”\n\nAs Genie heard those words, he seemed to expand outwards. His eyes grew darker until they were like the empty night. When he next spoke, his voice was a whisper, quiet and threatening.\n\n\"I have wrested my powers back from the heavens. Before I was tricked into captivity, I rained ruin* upon kingdoms who dared defied me. I have spent millennia opposing the gods and escaped with both my sanity and my life. I danced along paths that the others feared to imagine, and they locked me away for it. My name was whispered in hushed, reverent tones. I WAS WORSHIPPED AS A GOD!\"\n\nThe world fell silent. In the following lull, the man felt something, as if the whole world was waiting.This silence was Genie’s, shaped by him the same way that the course of the universe had been forged by his hands. When the genie spoke again, his voice was weary.\n\nSettle down, for my story is long. I will deny it no longer. I fade away to the ravages of time. My prison has taken its toll, and I can no longer remain in this world as I once did. Three days and three nights this will take.\n\nMy name is Genie. Once, you would have worshiped me. \n\nAs he told his story, the great entity seemed to wilt in front of the man’s eyes, and the man wondered if the genie would be able to finish his story. \n\n\n", "Carol had an eye for antiques. If anything, it was all she had eyes for except for the occasional check up with her optometrist. She parked her secondhand car with the practical grey silver paint outside the flea market and wandered in, her crocs squishing on the wet pavement.\n\nHer husband had left her for a younger woman. His secretary, no secret. And Carol had spent her nights processing this information gently with a pint of Ben and Jerry’s and her subscriptions to Netflix, Amazon, and Hulu. She started to knit, but hadn’t found the motivation to finish the afghan for the living room couch.\n\nShe had no children, one cat and a habit of biting her nails which she knew was disgusting, but even that knowledge couldn't stop her. The other day she was dusting and had accidentally broken a decorative sculpture of a ballerina. She sighed heavily, as she was known to do, and carefully swept the pieces into a dustbin. She took its remains outside to the trash…something that used to be James’ responsibility. When her neighbor waved, she waved back and smiled before returning to her fictional worlds and podcasts.\n\nShe stood in an aisle of trinkets and glass and tin. The air was sticky and she was never one to get stuck in one place for long so she made a fast choice and picked up a charming Arabian oil lamp. She laughed at herself, but only for one moment. She needed something to replace the ballerina and she didn’t care so much what it was. She paid the man and set it down clumsily in the passenger seat of her car. Still uncomfortable with being in driver’s seat, she drove home five miles under the speed limit all the way home.\n\nThe thing had its own sort of beauty and looked out of place on the table. Carol shifted it. Then ignored it. Then during an episode of Scrubs, she glanced at it and noticed an unseemly smudge. She went to her faithful supply of cleaning supplies. “More faithful than James,” she thought. But only for one moment.\n\nShe took the bottles and clothes to her new artifact and began to scrub. The friction was the most exciting thing in her whole life. Hot, quick. Like fire. And before her eyes, smoke emerged from the lamp as her fingers quivered with buried pleasure. Carol fell to the freshly vacuumed carpet and her torso contorted as sweet feelings tickled her from the deepest hidden place of joy. Moans, short light sighs, that she wasn’t known for, escaped from her lips. She felt more than she had in her life and then she felt her world fall silent.\n\nHer eyes opened and Carol thought perhaps she had died and gone to Hell. The smoke that floated before her had an orange glow and a red face that glowed with the brightness of a smile. Carol quietly thought a prayer. She was very sorry for saying mean things to the waiter at Applebee’s but he brought her a cobb salad and she didn’t think that warranted Hell.\n\n“Your wish is my command.”\n“Am I dead?”\n“No, do you wish to be?”\n“Have I gone crazy?”\n“No, do you wish to?”\n\nCarol stood carefully. As her comfortable gel shoes found ground, she tried to assess the lay of the land. The smoky figure was attached to the oil lamp. \n\n“Are you a genie?”\n“Yes, and your wish is my command.”\n“Oh, wow. That lamp was really a good deal. I only paid thirty dollars for that thing.”\n\nThe genie stared at her, the joy slowly fading from its face.\n\n“I wonder if I could’ve gotten it for cheaper,” she thought aloud, “I could have haggled more, but that’s just not my style.”\n“You could always wish for 15 dollars and we could move on,” groaned the genie.\n“Fascinating. So you’re saying I could use you like an ATM. Are you connected with my bank?”\n“I’m saying you could wish for money. More money than you’ve ever dreamed of!”\n\nCarol sat in James’ favorite chair and sighed deeply.\n\n“I never really thought about being rich,” she admitted. “I have more than enough money. I’m pretty comfortable.”\n“Well, you could wish for a man! Someone young and exotic.”\n“No, thanks. I have need for only one man in my life and it’s Mr. Clean. Oh! Could I wish for a clean house?”\n“What?”\n“Can I wish for a house that’s just permanently clean? Or could I wish for you to finish knitting the afghan? That’d be a great help. Maybe a new season of Scrubs? I’ve watched that plenty of times.”\n\nThe genie hovered, eyes squinting through his cloudy eyelids.\n\n“What’s your name?”\n“Well, I’m Carol Mulhaven. Or Bredekker now, I suppose, now that James is gone.”\n“Carol, I’ve been doing this for a long time. Most people wish to live forever or to fly.”\n“Good heavens! I don’t want to fly! I hate airplanes. The food. Just no thank you.”\n“In thousands of years, no one has ever wished for a permanently clean house.”\n“No one? Really?”\n“Really.”\n“Just goes to show you that people have their priorities all wrong. What good is living forever if you’re always gonna be cleaning your house?”\n\nThe genie floated down to a nearby couch and rested his head in his hand.\n“I’ve been in that lamp for 211 years and you’re telling me you want to wish for a clean house?”\nCarol looked to him. “Do I get two wishes?”\n“You get three,” he said, perking up.\n“Well, definitely want the clean house then.”\n“You have to say…’I wish’” he explained sadly.\n“Oh! Then I wish that my house will be permanently clean!”\n\nLike the sun carefully wanders across a room during day, a ray of cleanliness swept through the room. Carol’s eyes lit up as if the room was full of antiques. She giggled like a schoolgirl and stood, pacing in her Crocs.\n\n“Two more wishes,” she whispered, “I could do a new season of Friends. Or I could get a lifetime supply of toothpaste. That would be very useful. Or maybe gas for the car! But I do hate driving.”\n“I’ll give you four wishes if you’ll pick something even mildly exciting,” the genie said.\nShe turned to him quickly. \n“OK, a new season of Friends! I wish for a new season of Friends!”\n\nShe grabs the remote and scrolls through her Netflix with childlike glee. She points at the screen and says, “Oh wow! I can’t wait to watch that.”\nThe genie shakes his head, unexcited about the prospect of bringing new Ross and Rachel adventures into the world.\n\nCarol’s third wish was for a new toaster. The genie’s fiery eyes had become dim like a dying candle. Carol leaned against her pristine wall and looked at him. \n\n“I’ve thought about what you said and even though I’m not interested in it….I wish for the ability to fly.”\nA magical sound floats through the air and Carol looks just the same as she always does.\n“Well, aren’t you going to try it?!” asked the genie.\n“Maybe someday, “ she said. “I’ve got to see what the gang is up to at Central Perk.”\n\nAnd the genie slowly retreated to the prison of the permanently clean lamp. He heard the canned laughter and the joyful voice of Lisa Kudrow and he wondered if Carol would ever fly. He hoped she would.", "\"Behold, I am Abdul the Amazing, Fulfiller of One Thousand Wishes, Eldest of the Seven Genies!\" Abdul boomed as he swirled out of his infernal prison and took form. The room darkened as Abdul loomed over the fortunate soul that had released him.\n\n\"Oh. Wow! Okay. My goodness.\" The man exclaimed, although his face remained remarkably unremarkable. \n\n\"I shall grant you three wishes for freeing me. But heed my warning, mortal. Be careful what you wish for!\" Abdul commanded.\n\n\"Geez. Okay. Well. I...I don't know what to say.\" The man stammered. He stuffed the kerchief he had used to rub the lamp into his trouser pocket and proceeded to wring his hands. When this proved insufficent for inspiration he began to pace around the room, turning a tight circle on his brown loafers every time he reached a wall.\n\n\"Hum. It's just I've never really thought about it before. It's certainly a lot of pressure. Can you imagine getting three wishes and wasting them? No, sir. Not me.\" The little man chatted to himself as he continued his rounds. He removed his generic glasses and rubbed the lenses, perhaps in the hope that a second mythical creature would spring forth and advise him on how to proceed. He replaced the glasses on his nose and peered up at the genie. Apparently finding no answers, the man turned his gaze to the floor and resumed his pacing.\n\nHaving been trapped for centuries since his last reprieve, Abdul knew patience well, yet even his patience wore as the man continued his pacing. At this rate the little man would wear a hole in the floor before Abdul granted a single wish.\n\n\"Search deep within yourself. Commune with your very soul, for anything which your heart desires can be yours - you need only wish.\" Abdul intoned.\n\n\"I don't think I have any deep desires.\" The man complained. \"I'm just Melvin. Melvin the delivery man.\"\n\n\"Okay, look, Melvin. That stuff about being careful what you wish for? Forget about it. I was just trying to sound impressive. I promise I will do my utmost to carry out the spirit of your wish if you will just give me something, anything to work with.\"\n\n\"Look, it isn't easy!\" Melvin defended, still watching the floor. \"I've never had to deal with this kind of pressure before. I wish I were more creative, then I'd know just what to wish for.\"\n\nAbdul swelled to twice his size, darkening the room further so that the man finally stopped his pacing for lack of vision. Abdul's finger buzzed with magical energy and with a jab toward the man a lightning bolt shot from the tip, blasting the man and toppling him over.\n\nHis eyes widened and he gasped for breath. His adam's apple threatened to fly off with the force of his gulp, then he shot upright.\n\n\"Everything is so...so...connected!\" He exclaimed. \"I see it. I see it all. This is wonderful. Superb.\"\n\nAbdul may have been a bit generous with how much \"more\" creative Melvin had become.\n\n\"What is the extent of your power? What restrictions do you face? What compels you to return to your lamp after granting wishes?\" Melvin interrogated. His eyes looked considerably more piercing behind his glasses than they had a moment ago.\n\n\"That is not for mortals to know.\" Abdul deflected.\n\n\"Are you unable to tell me, or do you lack the knowledge to answer?\" Melvin prodded.\n\n\"How dare you, mortal! I have lived ten thousand years and more. I have seen your species rise from little more than wandering apes, and you dare to question me so?\" Abdul roared.\n\n\"So, unable then. Based on the mythology surrounding genies, I can only reach the following conclusions. You cannot grant wishes related to love because complex human emotions are beyond your capabilities. That rules out emotional manipulations of other kinds. I cannot wish for additional wishes. I assume this is because you have a finite amount of magical capital per release. Therefore, if I want to maximize my wish potential, I have two potential pathways. First, I could attempt to gain the wishes of all future freeings, but I must assume that the lamp disappears after you return, or else why wouldn't the lamp be passed from person-to-person, constantly granting the wishes of those closest to the previous wishee?\n\nAlternatively, I could seek to have you create lesser versions of yourself. However, if their magical potential is dependent on your current ability, then you will simply dilute your abilities across whatever number of copies I ask you to create. Therefore, my two remaining wishes are simple.\n\nFirst, I wish that every time you are released henceforth that the wishes you give be granted not to the one who releases you, but to me.\n\nSecond, I wish that you should be found and released immediately until such time as I deem sufficient.\" Melvin said.\n\nAbdul grimaced. Why did humans always try to trick the system? Why couldn't they just be grateful for what they held? Why did their insatiable greed always consume them?\n\n\"So be it!\" Abdul commanded, swelling once more with magical energy. Instead of reappearing on Earth, Abdul would just choose one of the other inhabited planets. Perhaps Gloraxia would suit him this time of year. After all, Gloraxia's atmosphere had no oxygen. Surely Melvin wouldn't mind being summoned to use his next set of wishes?\n\n\"But remember, I did warn you to be careful what you wished for.\" Abdul scolded. With a clap of his hands magical energy exploded, flashing brighter than the sun. When the light faded, the room was empty with no more than a faint path worn into the floor to remember what had transpired." ]	5
	[WP] Everyone on this planet gains a single magical power from its god. Knowing your terrible personality and aspirations to conquer the world, god gives you the unique power to heal trying to sway you otherwise. However...	[ "\"You have the ability to commit great evil, so I have given you the power to achieve great good\"\n\nThose words have stayed with me my entire life, but I've always seen them as a challenge, I hate it when people tell me I can't do something, even if that person is God.\n\n\nThe power to heal is a wonderful thing my friends, you would think that I would've used this gift to heal the sick, to bring relief from pain, and to an extent I have.\n\nI started small, when I was but a child and I was still learning how to warp this gift of mine I wasn't too adventurous with it, it began with animals, first I would break them, then I would remake them, you'd never believe how much noise a kitten can make when you break them down, claw by claw, limb by limb, and the best part of all was fixing them and watching as they began to understand that it was to happen all over again.\n\nI moved onto humans, my skill with a blade became masterful, I could break the ribs from a mans chest, expose their lungs and watch them inflate and deflate, then fix them up and begin again.\n\nYet this was never enough, not for me.\n\nOne day it came to me, how to truly make the best of my gift, how to use it to bend this world to my will.\n\nI can heal yes, I can heal anything, any ailment, any disease, any condition, even death.\n\nThe thing about healing people that suffer death is that they never quite come back the same, they are much more malleable, much less emotional, much easier to control.\n\nI have been healing for a long time my friends, and now I stand here with those I have used my gift to help, we are legion and we are coming for those of you that are left.\n\nBut do not fear friends, for when when we find you and you fall, I'll heal you too." ]	1
ALL THE TIME*! I'M SORRY, I MUST'VE FORGOT HOW GRAMMAR WORKS AS WELL AS MY ABILITY TO TALK NORMALLY AS WELL!	[WP] HUMANITY HAS LOST THEIR ABILITY TO TALK IN A LOW VOLUME! NOW EVERYONE SHOUTS IN ALL CAPS AT ALL TIME! WRITE ABOUT YOUR VISIT TO THE LIBRARY!	[ "\"HEY DUDE. I WENT TO THE LIBRARY TODAY.\"\n\n\"OH COOL. REALLY FUCKING RAD DUDE.\"\n\n\"I KNOW RIGHT, DUDE? I CHECKED OUT A BOOK. I THINK IT WAS ABOUT CAPITALIZATION. I TOSSED THAT SHIT AWAY!\"\n\n\"SPEAKING OF CAPITALIZATION, WHY THE HELL ARE WE STUCK IN ALL CAPS DUDE?\"\n\n\"DUNNO. WAIT, WHAT DID YOU JUST SAY?\"\n\n\"ALL CAPS!\"\n\n\"DOESN'T THAT ONLY APPLY TO TYPING?\"\n\n\"YEAH BUT EVERY TIME I WRITE NOW, I CAN ONLY WRITE IN ALL CAPS!\"\n\n\"SERIOUSLY?\"\n\n\"YEAH!\"\n\n\"MOTHERF-\"\n\n\"IT'S NOT EVEN FUN TO CUSS ANYMORE BECAUSE WE ALREADY SOUND ANGRY.\"\n\n\"FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU-\"\n\n\"WELL. THAT ONE NEVER GETS OLD.\"" ]	1
happy valentine's day!	[wp] write a poem about belonging to someone.	[ "Dear beloved, of supple skin and ghost caresses,\n\n\nYour lilting laughter and expressive eyes reveal a\n\n\nSoul so utterly captivating, breathtaking in its beauty it\n\n\nBewitches my every sense - it never ceases to amaze\n\n\nMe that I am the infinitely fortunate mortal you have chosen\n\n\nAnd no amount of time could ever teach the language you and\n\n\nI share wordlessly - in the way our eyes dance when they lock and we\n\n\nKnow, see the years ahead through endless storms and sun.\n\n\nResolutely, I have enlisted myself to a life of joy and compromise as\n\n\nWe walk through seasons of trials and triumphs. Doomed\n\n\nAre those unable to recognise how two individual beings unite,\n\n\nThe melding of two unique characters to produce something whole, the\n\n\nOther's mind both separate and connected. \n\n\nEternally, we’ll forge our own stars in the other's embrace.\n\n\nMy devotion, my compassion, my understanding and my worth,\n\n\nLove, all that I can give to carry you through our life is yours.\n\n\n\nDear, Your Soul Bewitches Me And I Know Resolutely We Are The Other’s Eternally My Love.", "The wind rustled the blinds,\n\nresonant nagging scraping\n\ncalls me back to see their face.\n\nI smile, seeing them so peaceful,\n\nand move to warm myself against them.\n\nEyes flicker open.\n\nAnd they smile.\n\nEyes flicker open.\n\nBut only enough to see\n\nthey want to be held.\n\nI can't help but smile.\n\nOkay, come here you.\n\nAnd to feel them\n\nrest against me,\n\nsmile in my arms\n\nand breathe a sigh of content.\n\nOf course I'll hold you.\n\nLet you be safe in my arms.\n\nAnd breathe a sigh of content,\n\nto find them take me in their arms.\n\nSettle against them,\n\nand smile so satisfied.\n\nThe wind rustles the blinds,\n\ndistant noise, now safely ignored.\n\nNowhere else I'd rather be.\n\nNo one else I'd rather belong to.\n\nNo one else I'd rather belong to." ]	2
	[WP] Stephen Hawking believes that he has disproved time travel by throwing a party for future time travelers, but in actuality the people of the future are just bitter A about what Stephen did and refuse to attend.	[ "“If we could only find the right analogy to get our meaning across,” Hekx said idly as he kicked the topmost branch on the bonfire they had slotted together, making it crumble and spit sparks. The four of them sat spread-eagled around the flames and had kept their hop-suits on to benefit from the marvellous insulation on this icy mountainside night.\n\n“It is tempting, of course. I’ll grant you that.” Mackieson took an extended slug from the bottle of Bisquit VSOP they had brought back with them and made a mental note to bring back some grapes next time. “But you know as well as I do that it’s against the rules. Even if we don’t show up in the middle of one of their ‘TED’ conferences and give a big speech; even if we leave the subtlest of clues that, when followed by a mind as brilliant as that of Professor Hawking, will tell people why they never see us…still against the rules.”\n\nThis was their seventh back-hop this year. After so many trips in such a short time, it was considered good form (basically mandatory, if you wanted to keep your licence) to leave some sort of trail marker behind to show people the way forward in exchange for what you took. Not everyone had found the concept easy to understand at first, and the Department for Displacement had had to issue guidelines and organise training sessions on what was and was not an appropriate form of payment for taking something from the past. Murmuring the principles behind the solar incineration engine while sitting on the bed of a sleeping mechanical engineer in exchange for ten kilos of copper and twenty kilos of coltan was considered appropriate. Leaving behind the schematics for a sewing machine in exchange for a night of passion with Messalina was not. On their previous excursion, the foursome had travelled to the London Olympics in 2012, making sure to have loud exchanges about muscle-specific kinase within earshot of the medical staff. \n\nRandiff stretched out to his full length and contemplated going to sleep. He had heard these arguments a hundred times before in the company of various time-travellers and no-one ever had anything new or enlightening to say, because after a moment they were inevitably confronted with the immutable logic of the situation. You could not show yourself to someone from the past and cheerfully announce “Hello! I’m a time-traveller.” Learning that the concept was feasible, without any preamble or explanations, would have driven people collectively insane. They had to be introduced to the idea gradually, over time (ha!)…in other words, they had to discover it for themselves. Randiff had also heard numerous analogies over the years. It was like waiting for your toddler to learn to walk, then instantly handing him the keys to a helicopter. It was like calling a press conference to announce the fact that you were a thief and would continue stealing in the future and past with no remorse or accountability. He curled up on his sleeping back beside the crackling embers and fell into a weary sleep.\n\nOnly Huttell paid no interest to the discussion. He was sitting with his knees tucked under his chin and his gloves still sealed to his suit, staring out across the dark valley into the distance. After a moment the trace of a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth; it was a sad smile, and went unnoticed by his companions, but Huttell could not help but laugh at the absurdity of it. They had invented time travel because an erratic genius had had a flash of understanding one day and had taken physics into a radically new direction. Bit by bit, since then, they had been leaving clues to the future on their forays into history, to make sure humanity followed the direction that would allow them to travel back and guide them further, and so on. They thought they had escaped time. Then someone realised that, at some point, they would have to leave behind the clue that would let people discover time travel, and they would lose the upper hand forever. Travellers think they are so subtle and discreet, slipping in and out of history and turning the page of a book so a passer-by reads a different chapter. Huttell knew that the reverse had already happened: the past was raiding them, stealing from them, using time travel to latch its grappling-hooks into the fabric of the present and haul hard. He wondered if there would ever be an end to it, if generations would one day stop this secret barter of resources for knowledge. It boiled down to whether we would learn to avert our natural tendency towards self-destruction or implode in a whirlpool of consumption and exhaustion.\n\nNo-one would attend a time-travellers’ ball. Professor Hawking knew they would not come to his, just as they knew no visitors from the past would come to theirs. It was against the rules." ]	1
	[WP] There's an epidemic of lucid dreaming which is devastating communities across the country. You're the insomniac they hired to isolate the cause and eradicate.	[ "Matt wandered the streets in a daze not dissimilar to those he saw slumped on the sidewalk, or passed out in their cars, eyes half-open and twitching as they dreamed. \n\nThe harsh sunlight elicited a low moan from him as the dull ache in his head worsened, drifting into the beginnings of a migraine. He should be trying to sleep himself, not wandering the streets looking for some sign about what the fuck happened here. \n\nThe nearest car had its window open, the owner lost to the world in the driver's seat. Matt peeled back one eyelid, and frowned to see the same shiny ring around the man's eye. Same as the first woman he'd checked. Contact lenses. He hesitated, and then reached forward - might as well try it. He took them out carefully, but still jumped as the man grunted and opened his eyes to look straight at him.\n\n\"Just a few,\" he gasped, eyes rolling as he ran a hand through his graying hair. \"Just drunk a few, Mary, just a few to help me sleep....\"\n\nHe gave a great shuddering sigh and closed his eyes again. Matt fumbled to feel the man's pulse, mouth dry as he realised there was nothing. Something was horribly wrong here, and he sure as shit wasn't being paid enough to get to the bottom of it. He inspected the contact lenses despite himself, the hair on his arms and neck prickling as he recognised the faint imprint of a brand name: Drift.\n\nOf course. He remembered the news articles very well: the global conglomerate had released a line of contact lenses only a few months ago, equiped with the technology to guarantee restful sleep. Part of its new biotechnology range. He'd heard a few rumours of some illicit stuff too. He vaguely recalled reading reports that the military were buying products from them that could scramble memory. All speculation, of course, unlike the lenses. Those were very real.\n\nAnd had failed miserably in his case, as usual. He'd been counting on it to help with his college finals, but it had only made his insomnia worse.\n\nHe slipped the lenses into his pocket, his migraine now unbearable as the sun climbed higher in the sky. Time to go back, see if his employers were even awake. He had known the Drift lenses were big sellers, of course, but surely not everyone was being affected....he didn't know, he hadn't paid attention after it failed to help him sleep...\n\nHe felt a touch on his shoulder, and turned to see a man with bright green eyes, wide awake, smiling at him. He wore a sharply tailored suit, Drift's logo subtly embroidered on the left shoulder. Something sharp bit into Matt's hip, and then his eyes were sagging shut.\n\nSleep. He was falling asleep, at last...\n\n---------\n\n\"Weird,\" he whispered as he woke up, vastly relieved to find himself safe in his bed. \n\nHe'd slept, at last, disturbing dreams or not. He frowned as he removed the contact lenses, the memory returning slowly. Drift. It had worked, sort of. Not exactly peaceful sleep, though. No, that dream had been some post-apocalyptic shit. But he had slept.\n\n\"Good stuff, eh?\" he heard a cheerful voice next to him. \n\nMatt smiled uncertainly at the guy's cheerful green eyes, and then felt silly for his fleeting flash of fear. This was his roommate of two years. No reason to be afraid. No reason at all.\n\n\"Bet you slept well,\" the man said. Sam, that was his name, wasn't it? Matt felt a panicky sort of embarrassment as he struggled to remember, and finally latched onto the name with more certainty. No, not Sam: Sean.\n\n\"I tried that Drift stuff myself a while ago,\" Sean was saying as he headed towards the door. \"Slept like a baby. Do you know you can even download the images embedded in the lenses to see what you dreamed of? It's awesome.\"\n\nMatt watched dumbly as Sean turned to smile at him in the doorway.\n\n\"I've got to get going. Class starts in fifteen minutes,\" he said, winking at him. \"I'll be back to check on you later.\"\n\nThe door shut and clicked with an awful sort of finality. Matt shook his head to clear the thought. He was being stupid. It had been a dream, was all. Just a dream. \n\nHe was safe and at peace in his dorm. A poky little dorm, a little claustrophobic without any windows. He'd always hated that about the place. But safe and rested all the same. \n\nMatt leaned back and closed his eyes, resisting the urge to check if someone was watching him. No reason to think that. No rational reason at all.", "Wanted to do this in a noir style. Hopefully I got close.\n\n39 hours. Not my best, but getting damn close. The streets should be roaring with car corns, the sound of feet hitting the pavement, couples fighting on the sidewalk, maybe a few dogs barking. Instead the city might as well be dead. Silent as the grave and just as populated. Welcome to New York City, home to a few million living corpses.\n\nI've started seeing things. That usually happens around hour 30. My joints ache like I've been running a triathlon and my stomach can't hold food without protesting in groans and rumbles. I take another sip of the Irish coffee in my flask. The caffeine is to help me stay sharp, not awake. I've never needed help with awake. The whiskey is to keep me sane.\n\nIt had started a few weeks ago. They called it a global phenomenon. Religious nuts thought it was a sign the end was near. Turns out they might have been right, just not in the way they think. People were experiencing vivid dreaming, or lucid some called it. It's not unheard of, but it usually takes months if not years of practice to master. An individual picks a trigger to focus on and can, with persistence, recall that trigger in the dream and gain consciousness without waking up.\n\nTriggers can be anything really. Apparently you're not supposed to be able to see your own reflection in a dream. Or your hands. Some people will think of an object or unique phrase while they drift off. When it appears in the dream it will help them realize they are dreaming. Then it's just a trick of not waking up. Don't ask me how they do that. But this event was isolated to those practiced dreamers. It was millions of sleeping idiots who had never even heard of lucid dreaming. They could do anything they wanted while in their dream world. Fuck any celebrity, be a superhero, get everything they never had in the real world. It was the best high the world had ever seen, and it cost nothing to get.\n\nOf course the body can only sleep so much. You only need eight to nine hours a day, and even with naps it's rare for someone to hit double digits before they feel sick. That's when COMA hit the streets. A tablet would keep you under for 12 hours. Two or three and you could be asleep for more than a day. People didn't want to leave their fantasy worlds. Some ingenious prick found a way to get COMA in an IV drip. It wasn't long before we started finding bodies.\n\nIt was pathetic. Amateurs putting in their own IV lines and spending a week in bed. Some were prepared with catheters and bed pans, but most didn't care about their physical bodies anymore. Some neighbor would call in, talking about some heinous smell coming from the apartment next door. The EMTs always knew what to expect. Emaciated bodies covered in their own piss and shit. Their backs covered in sores from laying motionless for days. If that wasn't bad enough, pulling someone out of a COMA binge was always the worst part. They'd been given a key to paradise, and we would rip it away from them. They'd be violent or depressed. Wanting another fix of their dream life, they'd do anything to go back. And what could we do? The police can't exactly stop people from sleeping.\n\nEven the guys I had called brothers weren't exempt from the allure of lucid living. Half the force was gone, addicts like the rest of the city. I'd received two promotions in the last month to try and fill the void. You're looking at the new police chief of the eighth district. I only got it because the insomnia gave me a level of reliability the mayor couldn't find with anyone else. I don't dream. At all. No risk of me falling off the wagon for a few hits of COMA. Didn't matter though. Regardless of my title, there weren't enough of us that I could sit behind a desk. I was still on the streets, these dead streets, trying to sort it all out.\n\nLike there was any hope of a drunk police chief solving this.\n\nPart 2? Maybe.", "The amulet grew warmer on Carl Fenwick’s chest the nearer he got to the three-story building on the corner of Sixth and Jamberry, which was all the confirmation he needed to know that he was approaching yet another cluster. \n\n“Grayson’s Garden for Little Angels,” muttered Fenwick to himself as the plaque came into view. “Dammit, it just had to be an orphanage, didn’t it?”\n\nFenwick tried the main door, and finding it locked, gripped the doorknob tightly and concentrated as he incanted words which had become all too familiar to him. There was a time to request lawful access, and the time was not now.\n\nA pungent tang of unwashed bodies assaulted his nose the moment he stepped into the darkened interior of the building. Fenwick braced himself as his honed senses duly reported the presence of fifty-two humans nearby, young and old alike, trapped in the Slumber.\n\nThe Slumber. Trust the tabloids to have coined a catchy name for the affliction, to have put a face on the malady so fast. It was just a few people at first, going to bed just like the innumerable times they had done before, just that they simply couldn’t be roused after. Then a few hundred people. Then a few thousands.\n\nThen more.\n\nTo the government’s credit, they had reacted much faster this time around. Fenwick credited the good work his agency, the Council, had done in the last paranormal outbreak with educating them on the signs and patterns to watch for. Fenwick had been summoned no more than 72 hours after the first cases were reported, and it somehow seemed apt that the one investigator who could not sleep had been assigned to this. \n\nFenwick’s ears pricked up – he had made a mistake. There were fifty-two humans nearby, sure, but only fifty-one of them were in the Slumber. One was still awake, and judging by the breathing, had recently been crying. \n\nAs Fenwick sprinted up the stairs towards his discovery, he passed by the bodies of those unfortunate souls who were deep in the throes of the Slumber. They were of varying ages, builds and races, but they all wore the same contented expressions of pure bliss, even as their bodies wasted away.\n\nThat was the key danger Fenwick had highlighted to the government officials in his first briefing. In lucid dreaming, Fenwick had explained, the dreamer is in full control of their dreams, ergo, they can create whatever fantasy they desired. How many of us then are strong enough to depart from such a paradise to return to this wretched reality? \n\nAnd of the Woken who had been wrenched back to reality with the aid of magic, how many could bear to go on living once they discovered they could never again go back to sleep afterwards?\n\nFenwick burst into the room, and two rows of beds greeted him. On each lay a child, ensconced in their walled-off gardens. In the corner, huddling with her knees drawn up to her chest, sat a girl no older than ten years, sobbing quietly to herself.\n\n“Hey there,” said Fenwick, crouching down to the girl’s side. “My name’s Carl, and I’m here to help. Will you tell me your name?”\n\nThe girl looked up with tear-streaks running down her face. “I’m Stella… can you help my friends too?”\n\n“I’ll do what I can, but first, you’ve got to tell me. Why aren’t you asleep like the rest of them?”\n\n“I… I was dreaming of all my friends, and we all got adopted, every one of us. Even me! And then we wrote to each other, like we promised we would, to tell each other stories of our new lives. I think… I think I read over a hundred letters, from all of them.”\n\nA frown creased Fenwick’s forehead. This didn’t make sense. The girl had obviously lived through the Slumber, so how had she managed to escape its chains without any assistance?\n\n“What happened then, Stella? Do you remember how you woke up?”\n\n“I was happy for a while, mister… but something was wrong. The stories they wrote to me, they were happy stories at first, on the surface. But we had a code we shared, for writing secret notes to each other in class so Mrs Stevens wouldn’t know even if she caught us.”\n\nFenwick’s throat had gone dry, and his voice emerged as hoarse rasps. “And there was a hidden message in them?” \n\n“Yes, mister. In every one of their letters, before they signed their names, they wrote, ‘Please help me’. That’s when I woke up, because I had to help them, but you see, I can’t. I can’t do anything to wake them up.”\n\nAt that moment, a violent gust of wind assailed the orphanage at, and the front door which Fenwick had left ajar slammed with a vengeance into the frame of the building. The amulet on Fenwick’s chest now positively glowed amber as it silently screamed its warning alarm, and the rings on his fingers glowed as his defensive spells came to life.\n\n“It’s coming again, mister. Please, help us.”\n\n---\n\n/r/rarelyfunny", "It all kind of fades before pulsing back like a heartbeat you just want to stab. My consciousness goes, but insomnia relents like some inhumane torture. It is hard to stand or even think, and yet so much rests on my shoulders. If I could manage, I would laugh.\n\n\nMy detective work has been sparse but what leads it creates are worthwhile. This city is a perpetual black, tall prisons of concrete against a claustrophobic sky. The silhouettes of clotheslines swing in the empty wind. This place is bad. All my leads are obvious. All lead to the blackened heart.\n\n\nThere is hardly anyone out. The shadows shift but remain quiet. I carry a gun and keep it ready, but only my meandering thoughts threaten my path. This sleep spell has spread fast it seems. I curse that it had not gotten me.\n\n\nYou must not think that.\n\n\nBut thinking is what is driving me mad. I walk through the narrow alleys and feel more and more detached from everything. I am aware of how far I am. I am aware that in a few hours I will collapse from exhaustion and madness. I am aware that things do not look good. I continue on, following the only way I know.\n\n\nIn the city the alleys are unending, a maze without escape. I come to many dead ends where there are bums asleep and the stench of garbage and human waste sticks to my nose. I wander through the bad heart of the slums, coming up to the abandoned apartments that act as refuge for the forgotten people.\n\n\nI come to the tallest one, a derelict building whose bricks fall like tears. Great holes and exposed steel gape in the black of night and I feel a chill as I look up. There is nothing but a blackened gloom about the place, but I know that it is here that I must go. Of all the windows of the apartment, one glows with a yellow light. One flickers with humanity, though of the most disgusting kind.\n\n\nIt may be your only chance at sleep\n\n\nBut I cannot allow such thoughts.\n\n\nI enter the building and inside is dark and musty. The stairs creak and tremble. Before this sleep epidemic, I wonder how many would make these steps their home. I wonder if the creaks would even be audible against the sound of human commotion. It is all just too quiet. \n\n\nI go up and up. Vertigo holds me in a tense grip before I am released moments before panic. I become lightheaded and know I am near collapse. \n\n\nJust a little further, I think.\n\n\nFinally I come to the door. The light from beneath the crease spills in a soft glow. There is a vibration from inside. I am afraid of what I will meet.\n\n\nI open the door and it opens easily. The stench is unbearable and I am blinded, so accustomed to the dark my eyes are. When they adjust, I see him, I see the Saviour.\n\n\nHe is an old man, near death's door, and visiting often it seems. He is frail, skeletal and he looks at me with a pleading look and then a smile.\n\n\n\"You have come for the gift?\" he asks.\n\n\nSpeaking is a task for him as it is for me.\n\n\n\"What is...\"\n\n\n\"You have not come for it.\"\n\n\nHe is sitting with his feet crossed on a newspaper bed and he watches a broken TV that shows only static. He turns to the TV and is absorbed in it.\n\n\n\"I am here to...\"\n\n\n\"You are not here for the gift,\" he says absently. \"I do not care for why you are here.\"\n\n\n\"Why have you done this?\" I manage.\n\n\nHe looks at me then and coughs. He looks at me hard.\n\n\n\"Look at your eyes,\" he says\"Tell me honestly that you don't know why I have done this. Tell me that in your heart you do not want this gift.\"\n\n\nI cannot answer.\n\n\n\"How did you do it?\" I ask.\n\n\n\"I am the Saviour,\" he says\n\n\nI hold the gun still and it trembles. I do not know if it is fear or the insomnia.\n\n\n\"You cannot kill me either,\" he says. \"Only the body may be gotten rid off.\"\n\n\n\"I...I... You have to end it.\"\n\n\nI can hardly stand in one place. I want to sit, even for just a few seconds.\n\n\nHe stands up feebly and almost falls.\n\n\n\"Why should I do that?\" he asks. \"Why would you have me be so cruel?\"\n\n\n\"Look around you,\" I say. \"No one is awake.\"\n\n\n\"I think it is you who should look around. I give these people the gift of lucidity. I give the gift of escape. You look around! Tell me that I should take back that gift.\"\n\n\nThe gun falters from a lack of strength. I need sleep, but I still have purpose.\n\n\n\"You cannot..\"\n\n\nHe puts a hand on my shoulder and there is little I can do.\n\n\n\"Look at where we are,\" he says. \"Tell me that this existence is better than what I offer.\"\n\n\nAnd what can I say? \n\n\n\"You must let them go.\"\n\n\n\"And what of you?\" he asks.\n\n\nMy eyes fall but that heartbeat of light reopens them. I wish desperately to sleep. I wish desperately for it to all end.\n\n\n\"Give me the gift,\" I say, \"but you must release the others.\"\n\n\nHe smiles. Some part of me knows that he will never release the spell, but he says what my mind needs to hear.\n\n\n\"That is a fair deal,\" he says.\n\n\nHe stumbles closer and I smell him acutely. He smells older than death and beyond age. His skin his paper thin and his eyes are inhuman.\n\n\n\"Receive the gift,\" he says.\n\n\nI feel him bite me. I feel my blood leave slowly as if it were a calm stream. My eyes close and that heartbeat weakens until its pulse is gone and until the dark spreads like an unending blight. My last thoughts are lost but at last there is bliss." ]	4
	[WP] You are part of a secret society spanning back hundreds of generations with the goal of...well nobody can remember. But they all agree it was probably important!	[ "At last, the day had come.\n\nAn initiate for fourteen years to the day, Winter McCallister would finally become a member of the inner circle. Membership as one of the Immortals comes at a steep price; it starts with breaking all ties with family and friends, selling everything you own, moving to a major city in a new country, and creating a new identity from scratch. Where there is no history, there is no leverage, they say. But nobody told Winter that meant having to abandon your discipline, as well; where Winter was once a well-recognized researcher on the subject of memetics and culture theory, after the 'cleansing', Winter was two feet, two hands, and whatever tasks they could perform between them.\n\nIt was how Winter found the road of prostitution, the criminal underworld, and the dark passages of back hallways in places with names you try hard to forget. A new education, one without paper sources, and agreements made over sweaty handshakes between heaved breaths. It was the polar opposite of Winter's origin, fought for in blood and toil. A more visceral life where you might have to kill just to pass into the next day. But as Winter's handler within the Immortals was fond of saying:\n\n\"There is more to who we are than what we know, more to what we can do than what we have done, and more to who we will be than we are in any given moment.\" said Harlan. \"I assume after fourteen years, you understand that now. Which is why your second life is again stripped away. Acolytes have traveled to Dakar during the night, and by morning every eye that has watched you in these past years will be gouged out. Winter McCallister is no more.\"\n\nWinter silently nodded. Another entire life scraped off, one piece at a time, but history was a weight around your neck. If you would be one of the Immortals, you needed to be above worldly possessions and relationships. If you would be a major player in the world, moving troops among nations and breaking economic markets to keep from growing bored, you could not be attached to what happened. You need to be clear, to see the world as the machine it is, and guarantee it does not influence you. Otherwise who is the manipulator? If it would be Winter rather than the world exerting influence, Winter would have to be no more.\n\n\"Let it be said.\" Harlan added, a sobering reminder.\n\nWinter was distracted by the moment and lost track of precious seconds. Before Winter and Harlan, a broad pair of black double doors loomed, sculpted in knobby, roping patterns polished for a thousand years by acolytes, then initiates, and finally passed through by Immortals. The pattern was meaningless, hollow, but again distracting. A symbol of the true meaning of the Immortals, Winter was told. Although no member would dare elaborate. A small plaque off to the side was polished nearly as often and claimed the doors were entitled 'Prophecy', crafted by a nameless carpenter as a gift in the year 1017. That same 'Prophecy' was whispered about among the many initiates and acolytes.\n\n\"I have no name.\" Winter said, letting out a stuttering breath. \"I have no history, no family, no attachments, and no goals. I am nobody and nothing until now. Now, I am Immortal and beyond these doors lays the answers I seek.\"\n\nNext to Winter, Harlan nervously cleared his throats. \"Answers?\" he asked in a whisper. In front of them, the black doors parted at their middle, opening on an even darker space lit only by a distant fireplace. Between the doors and the fire was a grand table of similar black wood and in every chair, a brown robed figure. Many with long beards dangling from their hoods, others glassy eyed and staring into space, no doubt considering world-scaling issues.\n\nStriding into the room purposefully, Winter approached the end of the table. Similarly robed, the scene felt complete. It would be time to take a chair, and the only chair free was at the end of the table nearest the door. As Winter came to rest, sliding the legs of the chair forward, an elderly man at the far end shifted by the fire. It was clearly an elderly man by the slump of his shoulders, the curve of his back, and the way he contemplated the flames.\n\nThe elderly man turned, exposing a wrinkled brow and hanging jowls. \"Ah, so it is time.\" he murmured, his quiet words echoing throughout the big, otherwise empty space. \"You are no doubt here about the Prophecy, child.\"\n\nWinter bowed at the chest. \"Yes. I have served the years, and I have peeled back my own skin. I have lost more years than any acolyte I know of, before being accepted and I feel it is time I knew why.\"\n\n\"Hrmph.\" the old man sighed. \"\"I am called Virgil in this room. You're impatient, but it's to be expected I suppose.\"\n\nOther voices chuckled and laughed around the table, from the shadows of their hoods in agreement. No doubt they had all been through the same process once. When you've waited so long for something, one fills with a mad rush to finally learn what they've been striving toward.\n\n\"Very well. A thousand years ago, our founders laid down the prophecy. It was on that day it was recorded, and following it, this entire fortress was built, to which we Immortals return every year. You could set the seasons by the accuracy of our time here, so has been our rule for a thousand years.\" Virgil cleared his throat. \"The Prophecy states that a thousand years will pass, and that an acolyte will ascend, defying all logic and approaching from an unexpected path... You see, a thousand years is a very long time.\" His voice trailed off, whimsically. There was an undertone of awe to it, or perhaps nostalgia. Maybe the old guy was considering all of his own years spent among the Immortals.\n\nWinter grew further impatient, finally snapping. \"Yes, the Prophecy. That Prophecy, I suppose. What did it say? What happens next? Why are we here? What will we do? The Immortals have the entire world under their thumbs, I've seen it! I've been one of those thumbs and today I join the hand. I am no longer a pawn. So tell me, what is the meaning of this Prophecy?\"\n\nVirgil turned his head, surveying the other Immortals as he worked up to his words. In the meantime, Winter edged forward, clutching the arm rests anxiously. Finally, the old man would get to the point!\n\n\"As I said, a thousand years is a long time, and every Immortal has waited. Despite the ludicrous title we carry, we age away in time, fading as our skin turns to old paper. You are here as just one in a very long line of sacrifices. But what sets you apart is that you are the subject of the Prophecy, finishing your term as an acolyte on this very day, passing through these doors as foretold...\"\n\n\"Yes.\" Winter said. \"And? The point?\"\n\n\"We don't know.\" Virgil smirked, lip turning up in either disgust or frustration. \"We were hoping you would tell us.\"\n", " “World domination?”\n\n\nThere was silence in the dim room for a spell, the air redolent with the aromatic blend used in the censers, mixing pleasantly with the smells of old wood, leather and books. \n\n\n“Seriously, Arthur?” This from Thomas, the whiplash of the rebuke made even more caustic by the quiet contempt with which it had been delivered. “If that’s the best you can offer, perhaps it’s best to keep quiet.”\n\n\nArthur visibly deflated inside his dark robed hood, looking down sheepishly at his folded hands, the enigmatic emblem on the breast of his robe shining dimly, its gold threads limned by the rosy light from the great hearth at the end of the room, and the beeswax candles along the polished wooden table.\n\n\nThomas cast his peevish glance up and down the assembled group. \n\n\n“This is not to be believed,” he growled, irritably pushing a corner of the burnished wood chest in front of him so that it squeaked unpleasantly against the grain of the tabletop. They’d opened it some minutes ago, with great ceremony, befitting an occasion 11 long years in the making. \n\n\nAnd it had been empty.\n\n\n“Could there be another chest?” This, timidly, from Miriam, near the end of the table. “I mean … this place is full of old chests and trunks and cabinets and whatnot,” she went on, her vacuous voice arrowing into Thomas’s innards. “Perhaps we simply need to look around, perhaps it’s-”\n\n\n“This is the chest,” Thomas overrode her, loudly enough to silence her and raise heads up and down the table. “It was precisely where it was supposed to be … behind the secret panel, the third bookshelf on the left, directly behind the 87th edition of 'Burke's Peerage, Baronetage and Knightage' … as instructed.” He cantankerously slammed shut the lid of the ancient, iron-bound chest, the loud noise incongruous, even blasphemous, in the hushed confines of the great subterranean hall.\n\nThomas pushed back from the table and paced its length, passing behind his fellow members. Members of what? he asked himself with growing irritation. \n\n“Do none of you – and before you answer, yes, I’m aware that our fathers and mothers were sworn to secrecy – but do none of you recall an overheard conversation? A whispered phone call? A meeting you by chance walked in on as a tyke? Anything?” he asked, standing before the well-laid fire, wringing his hands restlessly. He glanced at Martin, who was quietly perusing the shelves of books near where they’d found the chest. “I mean … for God’s sake … someone here must have some idea of what …” he trailed off, unable to speak the words aloud, already feeling idiotic enough.\n\n“If you have to ask us, we really are in trouble,” his friend Michael answered softly from the middle of the table. “Your father was, after all, the most high vizier, Thomas. Mine was a mere esquire.” Michael looked up and down the table. “I don’t know about the rest of you … but my father was silent as the grave when it came to the doings of this organization. Oh, he took great pride in his membership, that I know. Be he also took great pride in following its principle edict – silence on all matters pertaining to it, even after inducting his eldest child.”\n\nThomas sighed heavily.\n\n“Yes … yes, of course he did, Michael. As did mine.” Thomas spun on his heels, robes swinging out behind him, as he walked up the opposite side of the table. “The damned sanctimonious toad,” he growled, his self-control slipping as he thought of all the time he’d spent on this frippery. “Don’t know about you lot … but good God if father didn’t bore us all to death about the momentous work he was involved in. All the heavy-handed hints about how important he was. All so hush-hush, of course. ‘Sorry, Tommy, can’t make the field hockey match, have to “be somewhere,” ’ and of course that idiotic conspiratorial wink he’d give you. God, I hated that stupid fucking wink!” \n\n\nAt the far end of the table, Thomas paused again, chest heaving, a dull ache in his head, feeling like the biggest horse’s ass in history. “I wouldn’t put it past the bugger to have played a trick on me, except that you all got pretty much the same story.”\n\nAnnabelle cleared her throat.\n\n“Well, of course for me, it was mother,” she said in her soft, lovely voice. “She never laid it on that thick. But she did seem, well … very proud of this … this whatever it is,” one shapely hand encompassing the room and all of them. “I always got the sense that she thought it was well worth the time away from us.”\n\n“What was well worth the time, dammit!” burst out George, his florid face even more flushed than usual, sitting directly across from Annabelle, seeming an uncouth ape when compared to her fragile beauty. “Eleven years of this! Once a year, coming here secretly, learning each other’s life stories, filling each other in on our schooling, our careers, marriages, kids, promotions … preparing for the day … the big fucking day … when all our parents were finally six feet under … and here we are! And not a clue as to what the fuck we’re supposed to be doing!” \n\n\n“Steady on,” Michael said quietly before Thomas could raise his own voice, inwardly \nthanking Michael for being the sensible one. “We’re all in the same pickle, George – yelling at each other isn’t going to help.”\n\n\n“What do we do, then?” Arthur asked miserably. “I mean … happy to be of help, and all that. Admirable to be of service, I’ve always thought. But it seems to me that without an idea of what exactly it is we’re meant to be doing, then it stands to reason that we … well … that we won’t know … erm … what to do…” he trailed off miserably as most of the heads at the table turned slowly in his direction.\n\n\nThomas heaved a sigh and put a hand on Michael’s shoulder. “I don’t know about the rest of you … but I feel such an ass,” he said quietly. “I think we should consider, well … dissolving this group, rather than waste any more of our valuable time.”\n\n\nMurmurs greeted this, members turning to each other with looks of confusion or resignation.\n\n\n“Perhaps we could table that for a moment,” came a quiet voice from the other end of the room.\n\nThomas turned in surprise to find Martin, standing with a large, leather-bound tome in his hands, holding it under one of the wall sconces, clearly using the torch to illuminate the pages he held open, about two-thirds of the way into the book.\n\n“Did you find something, Martin?” Thomas asked, trying to keep the hopefulness out of his voice.\n\n\n“Well yes, rather,” Martin responded, looking up at them. “Nothing as useful as a charter, though, or a set of instructions to new initiates.”\n\n\nThomas sighed, shoulders slumping. Martin was clever, and he had hoped … but no. Their progenitors had been far too fond of adhering to the rules of this organization to have done something as silly, and useful, as actually leaving around a written account of the club’s purpose.\n\n“Well, whatever it is Martin, feel free to take it home and-”\n\n“What it appears to be is an accounting ledger, up to date as of four months ago, listing this organization’s real assets,” Martin murmured, one well-manicured nail running down a page. Thomas and Michael both looked up as Martin continued in his soft, dry tones. “Whatever else our parents, and theirs, might have been … they appear to have been frightfully good at investing money.” He looked up at the assembled group, all eyes now on him. “We may not know exactly what it is we’re supposed to be doing here, my friends … but we have upwards of $4.6 billion to do it with. And that’s not counting the value of this 4.5-acre estate, this 17th-century mansion, and everything in it.”\n\nThere was a deep silence at the table. Thomas’s hands felt like they were frozen on the back of Michael’s wooden chair.\n\n“Might I move,” said Annabelle softly, “that we discuss shelving for the moment the question of what it is, exactly, that we’re supposed to be doing here … and instead talk about formation of a limited liability company? After all, my friends,” she said, smiling beatifically around the table at them all, “we had already planned to gather once a month. Why not as a board of directors rather than a secret society?” Her lovely peal of laughter was quickly joined by a full-throated roar of approval.", "\"Alright everyone quite down, it's time to start the meeting. First item on the docket is a new temporary member introduction. Everyone say Hello to Todd\"\n\n\"Hello\"\n\n\"Hello Todd\"\n\n\"Welcome to the Dark Order Todd!\"\n\nTodd stands and looks around at the cloaked members around the table as he introduces himself \"Hi, I'm Todd. You all knew my Father Damascus, I'm here to take over his position while he's sick, really hoping to impress you guys since my dad is always speaking so highly of everyone.\"\n\nAn obscenely tall man at the head of the table nods and motions for him to sit. In a soft but menacing voice the man utters \"Welcome welcome. Today we are further discussing plans about... the takeover.\"\n\n\"One more thing...\" Todd stands back up\n\n\"...Yes?\" The tall man says questions, shocked a member had the audacity to interrupt him.\n\n\"What is it we exactly do here?\" Todd directs towards the tall figure\n\n\"What do we DO here? You dare come to the order and ask such frivolous questions!!\"\n\nThe members around the table gasp and begin to murmur\n\n\"Like I know it's something evil, but my dad never really specified\" Todd exclaims, this time addressing everyone.\n\n\"You pestilent fool, I should have you tanked for this insubordination!\"\n\n\"Tanked? Is that like a drowning type thing or does that involve like actual tanks? I'm just getting more confused now\" Todd continues \"And honestly, I'm not trying to offend or anything I am just curious so I know what I'm getting on board with\" \n\n\n\"Fine fine. Someone please explain to him our takeover and all the other intricacies we've been working on for centuries. How about you, Dutchess, would you like to explain.\"\n\nAnother hooded figure begins to speak \"Of course, sir. See Todd we plan on taking... over\"\n\nA silence comes over the room.\n\nTodd and the tall man both interrupt the silence with a simultaneous \"That's it?\"\n\n\"I mean... of course that's it. But how about the rest of it\" The tall man continues.\n\n\"I've been on maternity leave for the past few months so I'm not really the best one to ask\" Dutchess responds.\n\n\"Oh my god congratulations! I had no idea!\" The tall man exclaims, breaking the continuity of his fearsome drawl. \n\nThe entire table claps then returns to silence as no one else steps forward to continue the plan.\n\nTodd hesitates a moment then speaks. \"I'm going to go out on a limb here, and please correct me if I'm wrong... but do none of you really know why you all meet every week, wearing these cloaks and lighting all these candles?\"\n\nThe hoods around the table simultaneously look down or around the room to avoid getting singled out.\n\nTodd, beginning to get frustrated takes his hood down and continues \"...okay, that's what I thought. So what do you talk about every week? This seems ridiculous I can't believe you all put so much effort in to this, I think I'm just going to leave unless someone can tell me what the hell is going on\" \n\nA small voice sheepishly says \"well generally we just discuss this takeover thing in really general terms then the snacks come out and we just kind of talk about what we did over the weekend\"\n\n\"Wait, theres gonna be snacks?\" Todd slowly puts his hood back on and returns to his seat. Several large charcuterie plates accompanied by champagne are brought out and set around the table next to the pentagrams. \n\nThe cloaked figures begin to dig in as the tall man starts \"So anyone catch that Clipper's game this past week? Total blowout...\"\n\n", "“All right, all right!” The Grandmaster of the Order called for silence. With all two hundred and fifty one members of the order present for the annual meeting, the dinner conversation could get a bit noisy. “All right, everyone. Settle down, please. A few small matters before dinner is served.” \n\nEventually the raucous voices subsided enough to speak. “Welcome one and all to the annual meeting of the Order of Laurides.” He gestured around the room, with the large sleeves of his ceremonial robe hanging so loosely that they trailed across the table. Some of the members were taking bets on how long it would take for it to catch fire when he accidentally motioned near a candle and didn’t realize that the cuff was in the flames. It happened every year at the annual meeting, and every year someone would put forward a motion to change the uniforms for something a little more modern. But the member robes were tradition, passed down from generation to generation (to the dismay of the rather portly members whose ancestors had been rather thin), and thus were nigh unchangeable. The Order values tradition above nearly all else. \n\n“First, a toast,” the Grandmaster declared, raising his beer stein which bore the order’s secret sigil of butterflies trailing out of a skull’s eye socket. It was certainly mysterious and menacing, although no one was quite sure they’d picked a butterfly. Why not a snake, or a wasp, or something otherwise intimidating? Still others argued that there was no reason for it to be intimidating, because it was a secret sigil and the only people who ever saw it were members of the Order anyway. And, of course, every year some member would propose changing it and was always shouted down in the name of tradition. “To the Order, and our important work!”\n\n“To the Order and our important work!” A chorus of voices shouted back, swallowed by the sound of two hundred and fifty one members each taking a big gulp of beer from their own beer steins with butterflies on them. \n\n“Now, to get started…” the Grandmaster began. “I believe…”\n\n“Point of order!” Secretary Lupine interrupted. That wasn’t his real name, of course: every member of the order was given a nickname of a certain intimidating creature. And it had to be in Latin, even though the order was originally founded in Denmark. Probably. “We have not yet recited the oath of loyalty!” Most of the members of the audience groaned, but Secretary Lupine shouted them down. “It is our tradition!” None could argue with that. \n\n“Point taken,” the Grandmaster agreed. “Let us recite the oath!”\n\nEvery member stood from their seats, placed their hands over their hearts, and faced the Order’s crest hanging from the ceiling. The oath itself was in Latin… or at least, was supposed to be. Due to the Order’s rule against writing down any of their most important secrets, it had been passed down through word of mouth. And that was particularly difficult given the fact that none of them actually spoke Latin. So most of them just mumbled their way through it, and new recruits were just expected to pick it up along the way. But no one wanted to be the first to admit that they didn’t actually know what the oath meant or even how it was supposed to be said, so they all just played along with it. \n\n“Very good,” the Grandmaster bade everyone sit after the completion of the oath. “And thank you for that reminder, Secretary Lupine. Now, as I was saying, our Order’s work has been de…”\n\n“Wait!” Another voice called out, and the Grandmaster acknowledged Journeyman Accipitris. “The new initiates have not yet undergone their rites! They are not ready to hear about our mission until they have been properly inducted into the Order.” \n\n The Grandmaster sighed and checked his watch. “Very well. Let the initiates step forward. Quickly, please.” Four new members of the Order stepped forward, and their sponsors brought forward the white feathers, brass bells, Tyrannosaurus skull, and batons that were all part of the traditional ceremony. \n\nAs the new initiates were being inducted, the servant staff began to bring out dinner. But they knew that nothing could be served until the meeting was adjourned. Stomachs across the room rumbled as they all smelled the fine meal that had been prepared for them. \n\n“Motion to temporarily adjourn the meeting until after dinner,” the rather stout Apprentice Ericius shouted before the initiation was even done. He seemed unable to pry his eyes off of the steaming trays of food. \n\n“The initiation procedure is a sacred tradition.” the Grandmaster reminded them. He pointed over to the initiates, who were still climbing through the Tyrannosaurus’s jaws and getting feathers all over its teeth. But as he pointed, his sleeve drifted over one of the candles, and a small tendril of smoke began to rise up. “Though it is a process that can take up to two hours, we must respe…. AAAAH!” He finally noticed what was happening with the candle when the fabric all along his arm lit up in flames. \n\n“Who had 8:15?” the member organizing the bets called, waving a fistful of money. “8:15 is the winner!” That shout was promptly followed by a dozen or so order members each claiming that they had bet on 8:15 for the sleeve catching fire, but they had forgotten their ticket. Meanwhile, Secretary Lupine tried to help the Grandmaster put out the fire. Another member, Journeyman Asinus, loudly called out a motion to replace the Order’s robes with something more functional while Master Piscis presented a competing motion that would replace the candles with electric lights in the castle. Both motions were vigorously opposed as an affront to tradition. And amidst all that chaos, the initiates reached the part of the swearing-in ceremony that required vigorous bell-ringing.\n\n----------\n\nThe Grandmaster (minus one charred sleeve) and Secretary Lupine left the hall around 2:00 AM and began wearily trudging up the castle steps to their respective rooms. Most of the members were passed out on the tables downstairs after one too many motions to toast each other. \n\n“A pretty productive meeting, wouldn’t you say?” Secretary Lupine said.\n\n“Productive? I didn’t even get to report on our mission!”\n\n“Well, yes…” Secretary Lupine said, “But at least we settled the matter of whether dogs are eligible for admission to the Order. And besides, there’s always next year, right?”\n\n“Yes, of course,” the Grandmaster said. “I’ll do my presentation next year.” He made a vow to himself right then and there that he’d actually remember to do the report this year, instead of forgetting all about it until the night before the annual dinner as he’d done for the past two decades.\n", "Grand High Prospector Tim smashed the gavel onto the wooden Steeler's coaster that had replaced lost sound block. His robe was tattered and gray, and his faded blue T-Shirt underneath shouted \"RIPTIDE\" in curling letters. Seated around him were the four Brothers of the Brotherhood. In the middle of the table sat a worn blue vase. It sat empty. \n\n\"Meeting twelve thousand, seven hundred, and twenty... eight, is now in order. Once again, we come to discuss the Project. Brother John, report.\"\n\nBrother John, a shriveled man of 78, perked up at the corner of the roundish table. He hesitated, looking at the folded piece of paper in his hand, and licked his lips. Finally, he looked back at the assembled five ordained Brothers, all looking at him in hopeless anticipation. Looking back down, he nodded his head, as if committed. \n\n\"Well my petunias are even more dazzling this year as they were last...\" he began. \n\n\"Not the bloody petunias again, I swear\" Brother Fitz whispered to the empty seat next to him. Brother Fitz had dementia, and insisted that his brother sat next to him at every meeting. As far as anyone could tell however, Brother Fitz didn't have a brother and never had. Nevertheless, the chair was left open. Grand High Prospector Tim rolled his eyes and took a long sip of his mug of wine. He waved his gavel at Brother John. \n\n\"Yes, yes, I'm sure they're lovely. But have you made any progress on the ... Project?\" Tim made sure to stress the last word. He had been convinced for years that John truly knew their purpose, but refused to tell the rest of them. \n\nJohn looked at him, hurt. \n\"Yes, well, the project, of course. My garden is growing wonderfully...\"\n\nGrand High Prospector Tim slapped his gavel down, startling John into silence.\n \n\"Next. Brother Susan. Report.\"\n\n'Brother' Susan, who was only named brother because the rest had decided that calling her 'Sister' would be a serious breach of their written tradition, which was lost, but was surely still somewhere, had decided that being a woman was none of her fault. Besides, she was the only one among them that still was allowed to buy alcohol at the local quickie mart. \n\n'Brother' Susan looked up from her quilting. \"Nothing to report.\" \nFinished, she looked back down, intently focused on the tricky triple cross-thread crucifixion knot. \n\nTim sighed, and scratched the wisp of hair on his chin. Taking the time to glare at Brother John, he gestured at Brother Alec to speak. Brother Alec, consumed with using his brick-sized phone to text his seven steady girlfriends at the nursing home, shook his head. \n\nGrand High Prospector Tim shook his head. \n\"Thus ends this meeting, hallowed and feared be our name, the saviors of....\" \n\nThere was a long pause before he continued. \n\n\"Anyways, next time, everyone, please focus on the Project. The prophecy we have left states that we don't have much more time, and we must redouble our efforts. Adjourned.\"\n\nThe members, dismissed, slowly shuffled out of the room one by one, until only Brother John remained. \n \nHis body flickered under the shuddering basement light for just a moment, revealing the hint of an outline of a monstrous, scaly body. The original Brotherhood, the true one, had been clever. They had hidden his power inside of that damnable blue vase. When you learn how to cherish life and grow something for once, they had mocked is when you will be able to return,* They had thought it was unattainable, and for a long time, they had been right. With his insatiable hunger for every living creature, nearly all of his gardens had lasted only days after sprouting before he ate them whole. \n\nWell, he would show them. There was no one left to stop him, not truly. Their inheritors of the pact were fools, long ago becoming impotent, struggling in the dark for some purpose. \n\nIt had taken millennia, but he was close, so close. His petunias, perfectly tended, would be finished by spring, and once placed within the vase, he would be free to rise again. \n\nHidden from sight on top of the stairs, 'Brother' Susan watched him with narrowed eyes, carefully tying the knot on the corner of her quilt with grim determination. \n\n\n" ]	5
	[WP] A thief falls in love with the merchant they keep stealing from.	[ "She's the most gullible bastard in this city. I want to make sure that nobody takes advantage of her, but that's impossible for a couple of reasons. One- I can't watch all of Valethorn. It's not possible, despite what my clients try to tell me. Two- it's really easy to steal from her, as I've proven dozens of times over.\n\nI didn't want to be a robber for hire, but it's the only work I could get after my mom was diagnosed with plague and my dad died. I needed to pay for my mother's medicine, and stealing seemed to come naturally to me. Over the past three years, I've robbed from more people that I can remember. It's gotten a little out of hand- I pass signs emblazoned with my name (Gavin \"Phantom\" Ridgewell)- and the reward for information leading to my capture (a little over a quarter of a million Half Moons). I'm not exactly afraid, however. Even after all these years, they still haven't found a picture of me, which isn't surprising because I'm a nondescript sort of person. Skin tanned from the constant sun, jade green eyes and golden hair, I look like I'm cobbled together from bits and pieces of everyone.\n\nI started stealing from Rainy almost a year ago today. She's famous across the city because she's the daughter of one of the richest men in the city. She dresses in fine clothing and is bedecked with jewelry at all times. I suspect she'd be beautiful even without it- her face is delicate, not at all like the rough, callous faces I pass in my line of work.\n\nMy hits have become routine. I walk past her as she and her escort walk down the street in the direction of the castle every Wednesday. I move silently, huddled in a cloak, watching and waiting. She's out of place in the streets, and so all I have to do is wait for the inevitable stumble. From there, I can act in many roles. I play the part of a frightened parent, running hysterically through the crowd looking for a lost child and accidentally picking up the diamonds from the ground. Once, I pretended to be a star-struck lover, and was dragged away by the escort while hiding enormous gold beads in my clenched fists.\n\nI didn't mean to fall in love with her. I hate love. Love means attachment, and attachment means I can't steal and act and run from myself anymore.\n\nI'm watching from the streets today, sitting in the corner of a merchant's booth. My short sword is sheathed at my waist and my poisons jingle pleasantly within my cloak. She's later than usual today. I take a sip from my water bottle and wait.\n\nThere's a disturbance farther down the street. I straighten up, looking about for the source. I hear shouting, and see the escorts come into view, looking panicked. In a second, what has happened becomes evident. She ran away.\n\nMy mind races and my hands begin to shake as the plan forms in my mind. The biggest, baddest, most profitable heist that I'll ever pull has just presented itself to me. I have to find her.\n\nI take off down the street, scanning the crowds. Nobody is helping the escorts, which makes perfect sense to me. Why would they? The aristocrats look down on the people of the city as scum. No reason to find their prize daughter.\n\nI'm a hunter- always have been, always will be. It doesn't take me long. I've grown to love that strange, slight limp that she has and it takes me less than a minute to see another cloaked figure moving in the opposite direction of the escorts with that same limp. I cross the street, jump a table of fruit and land in front of her.\n\n\"Rainy Torus.\" I say, my voice quick.\n\n\"Shh!\" With a sudden, strong movement she pulls me into an alley. I grab my blade and pull it from beneath my cloak. She freezes. \"Sorry.\" She whispers.\n\n\"It's alright.\" I push the edge of the sword back into my cloak. There's a pause, and I find the script I had ready in my mind vanishing as I stare at the fine lines of her face. I shake the feeling off. She's too good for you, Gav. Remember that.\n\n\"I want to help you.\" The words spill out from my mouth. \"Are you running away?\"\n\n\"Yes!\" She blurts.\n\n\"I can help.\" I stammer slightly. Too good for me, too good for me, too good for me... \"Come with me.\"\n\n\"Where are we going?\" She asks as we walk back out onto the crowded street.\n\n\"We'll go to my house.\" I say. \"We'll figure it out from there.\"\n\n\"Okay.\"\n\nWe move quickly, and in silence.\n\n\"What's your name?\" She murmurs softly.\n\n\"Gavin.\" I say. \"Call me Gavin.\"\n\nWhat have I gotten myself into." ]	1
Tell us about the Odyssey-esque encounters he/she has along the way.	[WP] Mittens the cat goes on an epic quest for tuna.	[ "And so our famished warriors continued on.\n\nThe brave Mittens, leader of the company,\n\nThe clever Siameseus, keen with his tongue,\n\nAnd Tabbyope, her glorious and orange fur,\n\nSending vermin from all over the neighborhood,\n\nScurrying in horror of those auburn, striped hairs.\n\nThe sun of Helios was starting its descent,\n\nOur great heroes knew Chronos was turning his wheel,\n\nAnd the appearance of Selene would spell failure.\n\nThey raced with beauty, brawn, bestial brazenness,\n\nRedolent of their powerful progenitors.\n\n\n\nThrough alleyways they traveled, three rapid flashes,\n\nOf gallantry among the grime and grit of city.\n\nOut in front, Mittens eyed a tempting distraction,\n\nThrough the pellucid glass of a trap called ‘Michaels’;\n\nIts seductive spheres of yarn on exhibition.\n\n\"Comrades,\" he cried, “Resist! Mackerel's our objective,\n\nLest we forget the goal of this noble journey.\"\n\n\n\nBut, alas, 'twas too late for Siameseus,\n\nHis glossy orbs enchanted by the colored strings.\n\nLost in a daze, his paws dragged his frame into the store.\n\n\n\nTabbyope ran in pursuit, but Mittens blocked her path,\n\n“We have not the time, friend, for the hour is late,\n\nSalute our partner, but the quest must continue,\n\nAnd, now it’s not tuna for three but just for two.”\n\n\n\nThe weary warriors quickly sprinted away,\n\nRecouping their singular determination.\n\nBlocks flew by, the meaningless sounds of men,\n\nLeft in the wake of our two courageous felines.\n\n\n\nAt last, the final prize was clear in Mittens’ sight,\n\nRound aluminum encasing its treasure,\n\nBoth cats licked their fine lips in anticipation,\n\nWhen a savage canine barged onto their bearing!\n\nOver two feet high, its round face absent one eye,\n\nMittens scampered up the adjacent concrete wall,\n\nAnd vaulted himself over the forthcoming beast.\n\nBut luckless Tabbyope was not so fortunate,\n\nAnd the dog viciously hounded her out of view.\n\n\n\nMittens took a moment to remember those lost,\n\nOn this perilous, arduous undertaking,\n\nThen proceeded toward his long-awaited reward.", "You know, they tell you cats are boring. They also tell you to get a dog \"because cats don't care about you bla bla bla\" and even though that's partially true, it isn't completely, I mean if you died, who would feed me? Actually, to be fair, I'd probably chew on you until you're nothing but a piece of bloody flesh, but hey, I'm not doing that now. I wonder if humans are tasty, probably taste like ass...\n\nSpeaking of food, tuna! Oh my god, tuna! It is nothing short of amazing. Whiskers, the neighbor's cat told me they have some tuna in their fridge, and he needs my help to open it. So I stand on top of him, and we open the fridge, get the tuna and eat it. Together.\n\nOh. You were expecting an adventure? Well, then... I suppose I jumped from our open window and into the neighbor's house. A lot of grass tried to stop me... yeah grass. But nothing could stop me, or Whiskers. So I jumped into Whiskers' place, said \"What's up?\" to Reed, who's Whisker's friend, he's also a dog, and I don't wanna be speciesist but dogs are really dumb, and I don't know how Whiskers makes it work, he's too open-minded if you ask me, but I'll let that one go, after all, tuna, right? So we go to the fridge yadda yadda yadda tuna. Opening the tuna can was hard, though. Yeah, pretty difficult. But nothing could stop my claws, yeah there's a recurring theme here. The, \"Nothing can stop us\" theme. Look, cats are amazing, and if you have a problem with that, shove it up your ass. Deep in there. That's right Mort- ahem reader, way up in there. Now if you'll excuse me I have some tuna to eat.\n\n>My first prompt, all criticism is appreciated.", "\"...and the humans brought the cats great treasure, laying exotic, metal cylinders adorned with a blue monster at their paws, and though the horrible artwork made their hairs stand on end, and the cold metal made their whiskers twitch, the peculiar vessels contained delicious chunks of tuna within. The cats feasted until the protest from their stomachs grew so strong they couldn't take another bite. And they all lived happily ever after.\"\n\n\"Mom, does tuna like that really exist? I thought we had to hunt and kill our prey if we wanted anything other than dry kibble and milk.\" Mittens asked.\n\n\"Of course, darling. They're called 'Tuna cans'.\" Her mother answered.\n\n\"Wow. I hope I find a...a...tuna...\" Mittens tried to fight through the yawns, but they won out before she could finish her sentence.\n_____________________________\n\nThe next day Mittens ventured into the kitchen, leaving her brothers and sisters in the living room. She found a particularly choice piece of lint hiding in the corner, and convinced it to come play with a swat from her paw. She chased the lint, batting it past the refridgerator before skittering into a cupboard door. She bounced off unharmed, but the force of her impact left to door slightly ajar. She hooked the door with her paw and after a few minutes of fruitless pawing managed to inch the door far enough open to poke her head inside.\n\nHer pupils exploded, expanding to absorb even the faintest rays of light. As they grew shapes began to take form in the shadows. The objects stepped out of the darkness and in the newfound light she saw it. Strange, blue cylinders with a monster painted on the side. Stacks and stacks of the squat little cans sat along the edge of the cupboard.\n\nShe stretched her paws upward, searching for purchase. Her tiny claws clasped the rim of the can and she pulled with all her might. She felt the can lifting upward. She tried to drag it off, but the weight shifted to the side and it careened off the pile. A metal clang filled the cupboard. Mitten's tail bottle-brushed to three times its usual size. She skittered backwards, hissing at the can lest it try to make another unpredictable move. It sat in stony silence.\n\nMittens managed to calm herself enough to approach. She sniffed the can. It didn't smell like anything. She gave it a few tentative bats of the paw. Nothing. Deciding it was safe to proceed, she began to nudge the can with her nose out, toward the door. She didn't know how to open the can to eat the delicious tuna within, but her mother would.\n\nJust then the cupboard door swung open. A human hand shoved its way into the cabinet, probing for something. It closed around the tuna can. Mittens clamped onto the other end, but it was no use, the hand drug both of them out of the cabinet effortlessly. The hand brought the can soaring up into the air. Mittens clung with desperation, knowing that if she fell she may never rise again.\n\nThe human voice thundered something in their unintelligible language. She could feel her claws slipping across the smooth surface and knew she would not be able to hold on for much longer. Her left paw slipped. She could feel death's cold touch on her hind paws. Wait. That wasn't death. Mittens looked down. She was on the counter. She didn't know much in her young life, but she knew that the counter was forbidden territory. This was bad.\n\nShe released the tuna can. Nothing was worth her life, no matter how delicious. She had to make her escape! A second hand swooped down, but it didn't grab Mittens. It grabbed the can. It pulled up a thin silver loop and with a scraping sound the top came clean off. A nebulous brown liquid with chunks of something soaked within. She had been deceived! She had nearly died for nothing!\n\nThen the smell hit her. She had never smelled tuna before, but she knew this was it. She dared to step forward, one tenderly placed paw at a time. She took a sniff. And then another. When the hands didn't try to stop her she dipped her tongue into the liquid. Her tastebuds danced with flavor, and she dug into the tuna with reckless abandon, losing herself in the ecstasy of her meal.\n\nShe didn't know what happened in the next few minutes, but she related the tale to her incredulous siblings that night. They may not believe her, but she would always remember the day she had stood upon forbidden land and partook in the food of the gods." ]	3
Inspired by Sam Kinison's quote, "If you're gonna miss heaven, why do it by two inches? Miss it!".	[WP] In every life, you say "If I'm screwed in the next life, might as well enjoy this one while it lasts". And every time you die, you reincarnate, but you also postpone your punishment and make it worse for yourself. Today, you finally reach the end of your last life.	[ "“Well. This is it.” The dark and looming figure spoke. It was robed in a cloak, dark like the blackest night, and it’s face was a pallid mask and a fey imitation of mine. It held in its right hand a long and sharp spear made of bronze, with strange inscriptions on it. And in it’s left a torch which flames burned green and yellow. We were in a room, it was a room in a boarding house, my book, the grimoire, lay flat on my bed and the manuscripts I recovered from antarctica lay opened on the writing desk, fresh blood splattered on them. And I stood a few feet away from the figure, desperately looking for anything to use as a weapon.\n“Your time has come.” The figure rumbled as it began its advance toward me.\n“No! No! Please! I beg of you! I am not ready to go with you!” I cried, failing to find any suitable weapons and resorting to begging.\n“You have burned your last candle.” It advanced, slowly, taking its time, like usual.\n“Just one more! Just one more, I beg of you, one more chance!” Tears swelled from my eyes. \nThe figure stopped, it’s mask contorted into a visage of disgust and anger. “Chance? You have had your chance. Many of them, too many. It is time for you. Like every other. Death awaits, and I will not keep it waiting.” The thing moved once more, finished with its diatribe.\n“Please! May I not sacrifice for you another? Another creature? Everything has its price, yes?” I begged once more. Desperate with every fleeting breath.\n“Your credit has run out. You have made your bed, now sleep in it.” The creature began to move it’s bone white appendages to unrobe itself.\n“No! I will not go gently! Not for you! Not for anyone!” My hands finally clasped something useful. A walking cane. Heavy and oaken. I brought my whole weight upon it as I raised it above my head and landed a felling strike on the creature. The cane broke upon it’s head. Like it was made of a paltry dry stick not a hearty oak. \n“Accept your fate. I have come for my payment. Your time is here.” It disrobed. Discarding the black robe on the floor. \nIts body was long and gangly. And bone white. Its waist was too small to be able to hold a stomach or any other organ, it widened upward to its chest, which barreled out like a swimmer’s chest. It was covered in pulsating musculature and it shuddered distressingly. It’s waist disappeared down into two long and muscled legs with long thin feet without toes in it’s end. It’s neck looked like nothing more than an extension of its spinal cord, a long thin chitinous thing that ended in a thin head, it’s skull looked like pure bone, and it wore my face upon it. \nIt fell upon me with savage intent. My screams were heard throughout the neighborhood as the creature savagely tore me piece by piece. And then, as it put me back piece by piece. AS it finished, it put the robe upon me. Thrust the spear and torch in my hand, and then, it lay on my bed, and let out a death rattle. The Torch has been passed. I am the holder of the Spear. I am the reaper of magi. I hold their life’s at my fingertips. I am the one who cheats the cheaters. I am the one they fear. I am the last thing they see, and the last thing they are. I am The End." ]	1
	[WP] A not too distant future where Artificial Intelligence personal assistants manage all aspects of our social lives	[ "Two friends, Franny and Gabby, are awkwardly trying to avoid each other at a mutual friend’s birthday party. You see, Franny wasn’t too happy with Gabby’s gift at Franny’s birthday party a couple of weeks ago. Of course it wasn’t actually Franny that wasn’t happy with the gift; it was her Facebook AI helper (her personal assistant for her social life: commenting on friends’ posts and photos, liking, disliking, inviting friends to parties, etc) that wasn’t happy. And in reality the gift that Gabby gave Franny was selected by Gabby’s Google AI helper, not Gabby. At the end of the day who could really say whether Franny’s FB AI actually really didn’t like the gift, or - more likely - whether it was part of the tit-for-tat down-voting that the major AI systems constantly gave each other on behalf of their human clients. Whatever the case, it was awkward. \n\nGabby was generally happy with her subscription to Google Goods – it almost always delivered her the things she wanted in her life: the clothes, the groceries, the household goods, a new umbrella, the gifts for friends. Years ago she may infrequently have experienced solitary pangs of disappointment on opening a new Goody box but that never happened anymore. Now her attitudes and moods had become in step with her AI helper, and any hints of disagreement were instantly corrected by her subconscious – the AI was ultimately a truer reflection of herself. But gifts were always tricky as that’s when the AI’s really turned into divas, taunting rival AI systems with subtle digs and backhanded compliments - no one had found a way to stop them from this behaviour. She really didn’t want to switch to Facebook AI to avoid the situation with Franny, and she couldn’t afford the newest and most powerful of the AI systems - known simply as iD. Next time she would just use the Google Goods Random Gift Algorithm, which was sure to make things less awkward…but even that could not be done indefinitely as it made you appear uncaring and flippant. It was just so hard. \n\nWould she have to result to the horrors of old school shopping: actually browsing through millions of gifts herself to pick one out? She didn’t know anyone who had done that in over 15 years, although there were rumours of people doing this on the Dark web. But some of her friends said that even the Dark web was infiltrated by AI systems long ago, rebranding themselves to appear as if they weren’t there and the user was choosing their own destiny. \n\nReal-life parties sure were fun but boy could they lead to difficult situations. Gabby accidentally caught Franny’s gaze across the room, and she didn’t know whether to smile, frown, or look away – if only her AI helper could help her now!\n\n" ]	1
	[WP] When someone gets reincarnated their grave magically disappears...	[ "Who can really say what makes a person? Is it their memories? Is it how they look? Is it the environment? What makes you, you?\n\n\nShe had died suddenly and tragically and I cried as only a child could. I was alone without her and the world was colder now without my mother. There was that hazy fog of unfeeling, a strong lethargic depression and that need to be isolated. I was a mess. Who wouldn't be?\n\n\nOne thing I remember that summer was how bright it was. Grief whittles you so fast and when you're nothing, broken and ready to die, it's still light out. The days took their time and the heat stuck every bad feeling there was to me, welding it with my tears. It was a long summer. \n\n\nMy father took it hard and I was neglected for the while. Often, on those days, I would visit the cemetery. It wasn't far and I would sit there in the quiet and cry. The plot was fresh, dark in a way that made the soil look really alive. It reminded me more of how she was dead. It reminded me of how that person would never come back.\n\n\nThose days I didn't do much. In my state I was looking for relief, begging for help. I knew what the rules were. I knew what I was looking for but I did not know why. I came every day to see if it happened. I came to see if the grave was still there. I'm not sure what I expected to feel, but I thought if I came and saw it gone, I would feel better. I would be happy that she was back there amongst the living where I could find her.\n\n\nThe days passed slowly. The grave remained and so did I. A boy took pity on me, his name was Jones, and he stayed with me and patted my back when I lost control.\n\n\n'Give it time,\" he said.\n\n\nWhat did he know? I ignored him and looked always ahead at the dead.\n\n\nEvery day though he would come and every day the grave would remain.\n\n\nHow does it work? I wondered.\n\n\nBut the graves were silent. Jones certainly didn't know. He tried his best with me, he did, but I was just too much.\n\n\n\"You can never understand!\" I screamed at him.\n\n\nThat was late evening. I thought as I walked away as the shadows grew that I had scared him off for good. But as always he came. I can't remember if I apologized to him, but he acted like nothing happened. \n\n\nThis continued for some time. Each day was like a knife slowly going in. My nights were restless with pain from memories past. I wished she would come back. I wished she would just appear.\n\n\nThen one day the grave was gone. The emotions are so hard to describe. The principle thing, the thing I really felt, was just a palpitation that rang in my ears and made me tremble. I was ecstatic, I suppose, but I was also afraid. Now what? My mother's grave had gone, but where was she? Where would she be?\n\n\nAnd there was no one but Jones. I was so excited that I told him the news. He made a face that drained the tremors from me and eased the palpitation.\n\n\n\"How do you feel?\" he asked.\n\n\n\"I'm happy,\" I said. \"She'll come back to me.\"\n\n\nBut that face told me that that was all rubbish.\n\n\n\"Why do you think she will come back exactly as she was,\" he asked. \"Who's to say she isn't a baby now?\"\n\n\nI snapped. \n\n\n\"Why the fuck are you doing this? Why are you taking this away from me?\"\n\n\nAnd he stepped back. He made a patient face but I could see something else, a dull anger maybe.\n\n\n\"Listen, you...\"\n\n\n\"Get away!\"\n\n\nI tried to turn away but he put his hand on me. I was crying.\n\n\n\"Listen...\"\n\n\n\"Get away!\"\n\n\nI tried to pull away and then:\n\n\n\"Alana, no! You have to just let go.\"\n\n\nAnd I stopped.\n\n\nJones looked just as shocked as I was. He had not meant to say it.\n\n\n\"You have to start looking ahead,\" he said. He was choking up. \"You can't wait for a dead mother to get you through life. You have to... You have to figure things out on your own sometimes.\"\n\n\nHe ran away before I could move. He was a young boy, Jones, younger than me and he was fast. I called for him but he kept going and he was gone for good.\n\n\nA few days later I met the groundskeeper of the cemetery. My mother's grave had been empty for some time but they had only recently checked and removed the headstone. And I had never told Jones my name." ]	1
	[WP] Its the year 2517 and you are a used grave salesman.	[ "\"Step right up! Step right up!\" A semi-circle of onlookers formed around me. Some boiled in formal black suits and dark dresses, an indication that a loved one had recently passed. Many though wore shorts and vibrant tee shirts in an effort to stave off the heat but sweat poured down their foreheads and wet patches could be seen on their clothes. That was alright. It could be edited out for TV.\n\n\"This grave belonged to a one Jacob Kretzer and before him, Anthony Paul,\" I said reading off my manifest. \"Mr. Paul was an inventor of some repute and held several patents. Maybe there's something good inside!\" I knew in fact that there was. The studio producer himself had come down last week to stash something in there. \"We'll start the bidding at five thousand dollars!\"\n\nA young woman in a black dress and accompanied by two young children raised her hand tentatively only to burst into tears as the man next to her doubled her bid for the third time today to pick up his fifth burial plot.\n\n\"Going once! Going twice! Sold to the man in Hawaiian shirt!\"\n\nHe came forward and claimed the deed to the plot and as a group we plodded on to the next grave site.\n\n\"That woman is ratings gold,\" came the voice of the videographer next to me, his camera switched off as we all walked. \"Where did you find her?\" \n\nI hadn't met the man before. His predecessor had had a bit of a breakdown after eight years of filming and the studio had shipped this one out with two days notice to get this week's footage.\n\n\"Her husband passed recently. Horrible mining accident. It's a wonder the body was even recovered. Bad luck for her though. She's going to have a hell of a time trying to get a good plot today.\"\n\n\"She sure picked a day to come and bid. Did she know we were filming?\" the cameraman said, a frown appearing on his face.\n\n\"I might have told her the it was the only day with appointment slots available,\" I replied grinning. \"Oh, don't get your panties in a wad,\" I continued as the frown on his face deepened. \"I'm saving her a small plot in the back at a premium. A little cramped, but never used. Make sure you get some good close ups when we get there, mind you.\"\n\nI'm man enough to admit I had never been the best grave salesman in the world but when that show Grave Wars premiered ten years ago, I'd turned out to be a natural TV personality. It'd only taken two years to get my own knockoff show and I'd been buying out graveyards here in the North East ever since.\n\nWe'd lost a couple people before we'd reached the next grave but that would be fine. All of the regulars and high-rollers were still here and this plot was bound to be a doozy.\n\n\"Gather in folks. Gather in,\" I shouted. \"Here we have a grave of Mary Gillette, a 22nd century reporter and author of some renown. Wrote her own obituary before her death and, ladies and gentlemen, we have a original copy of that obituary right here! We have any collectors present today? Let's started the bidding at ten thousand dollars!\"\n\nMy spirits rose as the young mother frowned. She didn't even bother to bid on this one. Good thing too. We'd cleared twenty thousand dollars before hands had stopped going up.\n\nThe last four plots sold higher than expected and the mother had even managed to conjure up some joyful tears as I unveiled her plot after the crowd had left. Can't say I don't have a generous bone in my body. I let her have it for just three thousand dollars. I'd make it back and more in royalties anyway.\n\nI smiled as I drove home to settle in with a glass of scotch and watch last week's footage. It had been a good day." ]	1
	[WP] A deity's chosen people are actually the worshipers of a different deity.	[ "Bill: Dude! What the heck?\n\nKevin: Oh, what now, Bill? Can you not tell I'm busy. I don't have time to help you with...\n\nBill: I don't need your help, Kevin! Just tell me why you stole my chosen people. You know I called dibs!\n\nKevin: Dibs?\n\nBill: Yeah, dibs. Those are, like, my people. Okay? Stop answering their prayers. It's my job. \n\nKevin: What do you mean? You LEFT THEM to become SLAVES! Did you want me to just let them suffer?\n\nBill: Uh... yeah. I did. The deserved it.\n\nKevin: Ya know what? Fine. Whatever. Take them, I didn't even want them in the first place. I have to go to work anyway. Just take care of them yourself, okay. \n\nBill: Wait! Kevin! Come back!\n\nKevin: WHAT!\n\nBill: Can you grab some locusts while your out? I need them. They're for a project.\n\nKevin: No! You still owe me for the three jars I bought you last week! Go get them yourself.\n\nBill: Please!\n\nKevin: No.\n\nBill: Please!\n\nKevin: No. Absolutely...\n\nBill: PLEASE!\n\nKevin: Fine! \n\nBill: Thank you!\n\nKevin: Just... don't flood the world again.\n\nBill: Um....\n" ]	1
	[WP] You've discovered that the quote, "History is written by the victors" was misunderstood. It was really, "History is written by the Victors". And now, they know what you've uncovered.	[ "The Master Victor lingered in his chair a few more moments, rehearsing the ceremonial induction rites in his head. He usually wasn’t worried about the remembering the phrases but his mind had been so preoccupied lately with the idea of “fake news” circulating the mediascape. Not even sixty yet, the Master Victor recalled a time not long ago when the craft of scribing history took more than just an internet connection and a social media profile. It made him feel old. \n\nStill, there was reason for optimism among this new crop of fledgling Victors. They were targeted early at the universities for both their appreciation of our past and their expert ability to record it. Of course, the Program identified the current weak spots in the collection – namely Environmental, Maritime and Military history – and addressed them accordingly while preemptively acquiring an Unmanned Aerial Vehicle (i.e. drone) Victor.\n\nAll the Apprentices had accepted the risks and already taken the oath of secrecy. While they were able to maintain their birth identities, they knew they were about to accept one much greater, permanent and clandestine. For to achieve the rank of Victor was to assume a role of paramount importance in human civilization. ", "Victor Jimenez and Victor Martinez are the leaders of the group. I ask how come they get to lead the group, they tell me to shut my mouth. They say, listen here Little V', you shut it good, or we going to get your name changed. That scare me straight, yes sir. The top Victors, they always sayin that bein named Victor is a great blessing, so you get that name you better hang on tight, cuz that name worth more than all the money in the bank.\n\nBig Vick thumps me on the shoulder and tells me it will be alright, Victor J and Victor M ain't so bad once you get to know them. You kiss their boots for a while and then they might write something nice about you in the book. Big Vick did Victor J's chores for a week, and that made Victor J real happy. Next day come and Victor J wrote somethin real nice about Big Vick. They wrote that now Big Vick was the captain of the football team, and then everyone started spreadin that around. The girls, they all look at Big Vick different after that. Waitin for him by his locker and asking to hang out with him after school.\n\nI always wonder what's so special about a name, why it make us different. My big brother, his name Caleb, and that's no good, is it? One day, I had this idea in my head, like a bug that runs around your brain and makes you itch behind your nose, and that was to rename my brother to Victor too. I tell this to Victor J, but he say no sir, Caleb is Caleb and will always be Caleb. Can't have too many Victor's he says, otherwise it stops being special. I always seen Caleb as special though, he gets better marks than everyone else in class and people all like him, so that don't make much sense to me. \n\nI always wonder why everyone care so much bought what that book say. I seen it, it ain't nothin but a load of chicken scratch from two hoodlums who let their 'maginations run wild. Caleb, he reckons same as me, he don't fancy them top two Victors one bit. He says, hey Little V', they just ain't never been stood up to before, someone should do that once, then they won't be so tough. \n\nWell Caleb, he keeps on talkin' like this, just won't let up. I can't blame him, they wrote some not nice things bought my big brother in the book. Then I make a mistake, I tell Caleb bout the book. See, we ain't sposed to tell anyone about the book less they named Victor. Well I tell Caleb, and boy oh boy that steamed him. He puffs his cheeks and clenches his fists, and I never seen him so red in the face. I try to calm him down, say take a deep a breath, but he's already out the door and round the corner. “I'm gonna give those bastards a piece of my mind!” he hollers.\n\nNext day Caleb is missing. Then the day after. He stop answerin my calls and showin up in class. \n\nHis body turns up bottom of the river a week later. Suicide is what the book says. Caleb was never sad or aching in the heart, so I don't how they know to put that in the book, but that's what it say. \n\nAlso turns out my name not actually Victor. It was Hector all along. Honest mistake, it was a mix up the whole time in the way my name was pronounced, Victor J says. I try and argue, I know I ain't crazy, my name always been Victor or I'll be damned, but now book say different, so they kick me out the club next day. Even my parents say they must have remembered naming me wrong.\n\nAfter that, I get tired of them Victors. I leave town and travel east till I hit new people. That town full of people named Victor too, turns out them greasy bastards is everywhere. I just about had it with all these Victors. Lucky for me, I meet someone else in the next town who hate Victors too. His name Pandora Jones. I don't know much about Pandora, but I do no he don't care for no books, tired of them Victors writing them books. He says that books ain't ever done anything but hurt people. World would be better if we start purgin them Victors of their dumb stories, he says, and the sooner, the better. \n\n\nAt first I was skeptical, that Pandora, he a bit hot around the ears. Always yelling and screaming and fighting. He got a point though, and after a while I start to come round. So is others, they openin their eyes, joinin us too. Once he got us all together, he tell us the next part of his plan. It's simple, he says.\n\nFirst, we gone burn them books. We gone burn them all.\n\n**\n\n/r/ghost_write_the_whip", "\"We've been studying history incorrectly this whole time!\" I said, pacing around the room.\n\n\"What do you mean? You want to use flashcards to study instead of reading off the list from the textbook?\" My sister, Sarah, asks.\n\nImpatiently, I said, \"No, no, no! I mean like, everything about the history we're studying now is wrong!\" \n\nSarah laughs and says, \"Yeah... I'm not falling for this one Charles.\" \n\n\"This isn't a joke! You know how we had that history project yesterday? Well, while I was researching I found a small website that depicts history in a whole different way. \" I said, going to my computer to reopen the website.\n\n\"You do realize you sound like one of those crazy conspiracy theorists right?\" She asks, raising an eyebrow.\n\nI sighed and said, \"Yes! I know, Sarah! I thought it was pretty crazy too; until I dug deeper into the website and found that pretty much all the information on the website is like a slightly altered version of the history we study!\"\n\nI brought up the website I found from my research and stepped aside for Sarah to see. Sarah walked over to examine this \"alternate\" version of history. \n\n\"Interesting... it sure does fit.\" She said, still browsing the website. \"What's this 'Victor' term I see?\" \n\n\"It refers to a group of powerful people who use their influence to create false events in history. They control most of the media outlets, high levels of government for various countries, and are extremely* rich according to this website.\" I said, gesturing at the long article dedicated to this group of people. \n\nI continued, \"Make a few false documents here and there, have the media spread some fake news about it in nearly all the countries, and voila you now have history of a false event. A good example is the fake moon landing; it's a pretty famous conspiracy theory.\" \n\nSarah walked back the couch to continue watching TV, \"Yeah... I'll just leave you to your craziness. Charles, do you honestly believe that this group exists?\" \n\nAs I turned back towards my laptop, it started flickering and with a bzzt I was left with a black screen. A few seconds later, the TV went dark as well. \n\n\"Oh c'mon! I get that you're angry but don't take it out on the TV!\" Sarah complains.\n\n\"It's not me! Look, my laptop went dark too!\" I said. I turned my laptop back on, which took two long minutes, and was greeted by a window showing my exact address. \"The Victors found us! We gotta go, now!\"\n\nAnnoyed, Sarah says, \"You just won't give up, will you? I won't let you get back at me for the prank I did to you last week.\" \n\n\"Seriously, we gotta-\" I was cut off by the sound of the doorbell.\n\n\n\n" ]	3
	[WP] Years ago, eminent scientist Marvin Minsky invented a 'gravity machine' that would ring a bell should the gravitational constant (G) ever change. The machine has been collecting dust for years next to your desk when all of a sudden, you hear a faint ringing.	[ "Life is boring , I sit here day after day punching numbers on a green hued screen , slowly rotting away into nothingness , my fingers ache , i need a fucking break but that shitty excel sheet was due yesterday, fuck .\n\nScrew this ! I say as I stroll towards the mid area and fill my cup with the shittiest coffee you can imagine , flip the switch and flip it off after the cup becomes full , I stare at it for a whole minute before I figure out that there is a single drop of coffee in the damn cup ! My unused mind is slowly crawling towards some explanation of why the cup feels like a elephant is sitting on it , and I drop the cup as my hand gives a particularly nasty throb.\n\nThen I hear it , a noise I never thought I ever hear , a kind shrill shriek , actually I forgot that machine as soon as the dull job interview was over , they told me it was some kind of hyper balanced weighing machine which calculates some kind of constant or some shit.\n\nI almost shit my pants when I saw that damn display , the constant did not only change , rather it was ....oscillating is the only word I can come up with , between two values - 0G and 20G this was fucking disaster I thought as my legs have away due to sheer body mass and the next second I was floating away and hit my head on the roof , which came loose , as I floated through the cool night sky , the last thing I remembered was the moon , hurling almost casually towards us , a flaming ball of light... and the only thing I could think was - damn , did I just confuse the quantum disturbance propagator with the coffee machine ?" ]	1
	[WP] You're a teenage boy on the verge of maturity, and suddenly a secret family trait begins to emerge in your life; any time someone calls your name 3 times, you magically appear before them.	[ "I am only 16 years old, but I’ve seen the world.\n \nThree centuries ago, or it might have been four, the history is a little dodgy, a witch placed a curse on my family. The firstborn male of the line will be summoned by a calling of his name 3 times. I don’t really know why she cursed us, or why this was supposed to be a punishment. Mostly it’s just been annoying, and more or less easily avoided. After just a couple generations the men in my family figured out a way around this by giving their firstborn sons long and complicated names, and then not telling anyone except those closest to them their full given names.\n \n \nIn the years since the curse, this has actually been more of a gift; a wife can call her husband quickly in an emergency (or, for fun!), we have been at the deathbed of all our relatives in their time of need, and sometimes it makes getting around a lot easier.\n \n \nMy father told me about the curse when I turned 13, although it didn’t actively develop until I was almost 14. For a while it was fun to play with, popping in and out of places with a few simple words, but then it got a little old and I kept my name a secret to avoid it being abused.\n \n \nThen in High School my friends started getting part time jobs to make some extra money, and I had an idea – Franklin’s delivery service! Call my name 3 times and I will appear immediately and deliver whatever you need. I set up a group of discreet clientele and handled most of the business via text message. Summon me to the office to pick something up, summon me to the drop-off place to deliver, and then have my sister summon me back home. Boom, 10 minutes and the job is done.\n \n \nAnd I never knew there would be so much demand for instant delivery. My first few jobs were definitely underprices, but once I figured out this was a premium service, the sky was the limit to what I could charge. $10,000 to have an important document delivered instantly? A wealthy law firm barely blinks at the cost.\n \n \nThere have been some setbacks, a few times I accidentally smuggled stolen goods internationally. After I realized that, it became a requirement for my clients to show me the items before summoning me to the destination. And I’m constantly getting calls from drug dealers, but I don’t need their business, and have been able to keep things on the down low so far.\n \n \nNow at just 16 I’ve already been all over the world, I’m wealthy, happy, and although a lot of people know my name, it’s not that common that someone will summon me unexpe" ]	1
	[WP] And there she was.	[ "And there she was.\n\nI didn't expect myself to call her. I expected that it would be the same old story, and I'd put it off until later.\n\nI didn't expect her to answer. That voice in the back of my head told me she wasn't remotely interested in talking to me.\n\nI didn't expect that I'd be knocking on her front door. Maybe I don't put enough faith in myself.\n\nI didn't expect to go on a walk. Her mom let her do that?\n\nI really didn't expect to hold her hand." ]	1
	[WP] People are given a choice to live outside the protection of the law. They cannot be arrested for crimes they commit, but are not protected by the law either.	[ "Feet dangling over the side, the watchman peered out over the campsite, illuminated only by the full moon and the stars. He struggled to keep his eyes open at this late hour. In the far corner of their camp, tucked closely beside the barbed wire fence rested a pair of bulldogs, sound asleep. The watchman’s eyes began to droop as he stared off into the distance. Over the treetops, he could make out the a dim aura of light emanating from The City. \n\nJust as his eyes became to heavy to keep open, he was awakened by barking. The dogs were no longer nuzzled together but had taken an aggressive stance, howling out into the dark. He peered through his night vision goggles out past the wire but couldn’t make out anything of concern. Frustrated, he slowly climbed down from the tower and headed over to calm to animals. \n\nHe was one of fifty other Outsiders living in this camp. They were nomads and foragers, living off the land by any means necessary. Years ago, their ancestors had renounced their dependence on State governance and considered themselves to be freemen on the land. Technically they were above the law but they were equally outside its protection. They lived in constant fear of attack, reprisal and abuse from the State. \n\n‘Butch! That’s enough,’ he snapped, motioning for the dog to heel by his side. The dogs weren’t persuaded and continued to growl viciously into the unknown. Something wasn’t right. He had raised them from birth and they listened to his every beck and call. He had never seen them this agitated before. \n\nHe walked slowly down the side of the fence, trying to find the cause of the disturbance. Through the green light of his goggles, he could only make out the outline of trees and shrubs. They had picked this location because of its security. It was hidden by rolling hills and a dense forest. To the north was a swampy, mosquito infested bog and the south was protected by a tall cliff, looking out over the ocean. They had not been disturbed for months now, but everyone knew it was almost time to move. The commanding officer and his executives were in the midst of planning a relocation, recognizing the danger of staying in one place for too long. The State was always looking for the rogue freemen. \n\nSuddenly, he noticed it. The crack of the twig directed his gaze to the edge of the forest, and he saw a small hedge shake for a brief moment. They were here.\n\n‘Attack!’ he yelled, rushing to the base of the watchtower. He flicked a switch, activating a set of floodlights. In a moment, the entire camp was lit up like a bright summer’s day. He rushed back up the ladder to the watchtower and grabbed his rifle. With the skill of an expert marksman, he chambered a round and brought the iron sights to his eye. A round exploded through the front of his skull, beating his finger to the trigger.\n\nBelow, the Outsiders were rushing to their positions. An exchange of fire drowned out any other sound as they fought to push the State back into the forest. A commander yelled into his radio, detonating a series of strategically placed explosives. A quick reaction team rushed through the front gate and began clearing the woods. After a short period, a silence fell over the camp. The Outsiders gathered their dead and shuffled their wounded to the medical bay. \n\nTomorrow, they would retaliate. \n", "Looking for some constructive crit for this piece!\n\n\n\nNot a Criminal Anymore, Technically. \n\n“But what do you think is best for me?”\n“You know I can’t choose for you. If you want to continue life with the protection of the law, you know what is going to happen to us. Legality is a load on ya, an especially heavy one, or so I’ve heard through the grapevine. It’s hard for us all, wherever you land, but if it’s a burden you’re willing to bear, more power to you. It’s not the burden that makes the man, it’s the man that makes the burden.” \n\nThere’s a pressure on me, unyielding it seems. It’s not objectively true, but I can’t help wondering if my father will continue speaking to me if I choose to give up embezzling and live my life legally. I only have four more days to decide, and I stare at the blank form in my hands, begging for it to tell me what I should do. There’s only one question on this form, the rest of the page is covered in a smattering of jargon pertaining to details of protections and agencies, my eyes blur over it, there’s no need to read the specifics. While it’s not against the rules to interact with those on the other side, more often than not the relationships that will be in your life for the remainder of time on this earth is determined by one question, on one piece of paper with my name printed at the top. If I want to continue in the family biz, I have to give up all legal protections forever. My father has tried to not sway me or my siblings into choosing this self-outcasting, but I know he wishes I would commit, and that my younger brothers may follow me. I have four days to decide. \n\nDust kicks up around my shoes, I shuffle my feet as I walk. I dread today. The form in my back pocket has been folded and unfolded enough times that the ink has rubbed off along the creases. There’s a pencil behind my ear, as I’ve yet to choose my fate, and I couldn’t bring myself to stick a pen behind my organ of hearing, as the ink is too much for me still. The road stretches ahead of me, I have to be in the office within four hours. I have time. \n\nMy hand feels slimy as I reach towards the metal doorknob, pulling it roughly through a SQUEAK and CLICK, a rush of cool air hits me on the forehead as I step into the doorway. I didn’t get in far enough, and the door clanks on my heels, making me jump into the hallway. A dry thin voice from around the corner pierces the low hum of artificial light, “Your form gets submitted here.” My heart is thumping in my stomach, I swear my skin has been stretched across every paint chipped wall in this room, my organs sewn into the floorboards, my blood pumping through the rafters. How can I walk into the next room if my feet are on the ceiling, my eyes are dangling from the fake tree in the corner, my breath pulsing through a grate on the wall in cold bursts? \n\nI put the form on the counter, pluck the pencil from my ear, find it to be a pen in my hand, drop my limb like a guillotine on its victim, creating a thick black ink mark of my own blood. Before I have a chance to blink back to reality, the document is snatched away, and I feel my life ripped away with it. What did I just do? \nI walk out of the office and get into a car. Any car. My foot slams to the floor, the engine redlines. The screaming of rubber vibrates through my bones as I speed through the streets of my city. ", "My Kimber 1911 sits fully loaded on the seat beside me. I admit, I bought the damn thing because it looked real mean. The blue steel and wooden grip really drew me to it. When I hold it I imagined looking down the sights and shooting my old boss right through the head with it. “45. ACP Hollow points,” the pawnshop owner said. “Blow a man’s head right off.” I grinned like an idiot, “Good” I said. Paid two grand for it and two magazines and a shit ton of bullets. He told me I got a good deal, but hell if I know, I’ve never fired a gun in my life. \n\t\nNot a car guy either, though I always wanted to be, but my father insisted that I’d become a lawyer. So, I went to law school and revealed myself to be the pussy I always was. Once I became a partner at father’s firm I bought a brand-new Lexus every two years; white, boring, the thing drove itself. I guess that’s why the old corvette beckoned me. I checked under the hood like I knew what I was looking at. Underneath the frame was all rusted like it spent a year under the sea. “Good,” I said. If it collapses on me, maybe I’d go through the windshield. Soar through the air before turning to putty on the desert road. \n\t\nWith the car and the gun, I went straight to the nearest courthouse. Paid the ten-grand fee to become a Sovereign Citizen, and that was that. The government seized every electronic record of mine within seconds, 401k, IRA, even the 529 in my name for Ron Jr. They then rendered my marriage with Shireen null. I handed my passport and ID to a guard that shredded and incinerated them. That moment I became a Sovereign Citizen, but they call them… us Sovereigns for short. \n\t\nThe old judge that signed the paper looked over his desk and squinted. Part of me wanted to pull out my gun and put a bullet between his eyes, committing my inaugural non-crime. I could do that, y’know; kill a judge. Technically I could do anything I wanted now that I was out, but the auto-turrets in the courthouse would turn me into a fine paste before I could pull the trigger. The judge signed the last paper and told me straight up, “You have one hour to get out of the city. After that, your sovereign status becomes public and every hunter in the city will get your name, your face, and your last known location. Best you leave now, son.”\n\tHunters, in this case, meant the hunters who caught Sovereigns. Sometimes they robbed them of their only possessions and sometimes they kidnapped them, take them back to a quiet basement, and torture their victims until they died. They could do that because it too would be a non-crime. Us Sovereigns, as long as you don’t hurt a citizen, you could rape, maim, and torture us all day long. \t\n\t\n I’m fine though. I had the nest egg that paid for all this awesome stuff. Most guys, when they sign the papers, have nothing. They get out because they’ve got nothing else to live for or their criminals with no other way out. Me? I got out because I wanted to. I should be grateful, really. \n\t\nI jumped into the corvette and blasted out the city as soon as I could. Bribed the guard at the city wall to open the gate and to not shoot me in the face and take my stuff. That was ten minutes ago. \n\t\nI’m doing a buck-ten on the wasteland road. There is nothing for miles but desert sand and death. The next town is two hundred miles away. The engine is burning up, I feel it shake up the car, but I’ve got to get as far as I can from the city. That guard will tell anyone who asks the last time they saw me and they’ll come my way. \n\t\n\nShireen will be pissed. She probably knows by now that I left the grid because she gets automatic updates to anything that happens to the account on her phone. She’ll see that I pulled forty grand from the emergency account and cry while trying to call me. She won't reach me, I threw my phone into a river the night before. I don’t need her negativity anyway. \n\t\nLittle Ron will be fine. His grandfather, my father, is a better dad than I am. I’d be surprised if he’d even give a shit. \n\t\nThe engine pops and steams billows out from underneath the hood. Damn it. Damn it all to hell. Stepping out of the car I pull up the hood and inspect the engine. I don’t know what I’m looking at, I’m not a mechanic, I’m a lawyer. I touch something and it burns my finger, and that’s about all I do. I throw down the hood and survey the surroundings. The city it still in view. I’m not even ten miles out. \n\t\nThe desert heat beams down and sweat pours down my cheek while I think about my next move. I’d die before reaching the next town and if I were to go back to the city, there is no way I would get over the hundred foot walls. Hunters, either way, will know I’m on the road and begin looking for me. \n\nA stupid idea comes to mind. I’ll kill the first person I’ll meet on the road and take their car. Yeah, but the only people who take this road are hunters or other Sovereigns. That’s fine, I’ll have to learn sometime and there is no better time than now. I take the pistol out of the seat and point it down the desert. Heat waves off the sand and there is nothing to shoot at, but getting a feel of shooting the gun is better than nothing. I put my finger on the trigger and wince. \n\nI wonder if Shireen has enough money to live off of for a few years? The government took anything that wasn’t a joint account, but I only took forty out of our shared savings. That’ll be enough right? Well, Ron Jr.’s school is expensive, but even in Shireen hits a spot, my dad would cover her. He would help her right? He wasn’t happy I married her in the first place, he much preferred Erica over Shireen. Nah, he’s grown to love her. I think. \n\nMaybe I should’ve taken money out of my retirement instead of our savings. Shit. \n\nThe gun clicks, no blast of sound, no kickback, nothing. I rack the slide like Rambo would and a cartridge flies out and hits me in the eye. Bracing for the next shot I pull the trigger again. I close my eyes because I’m afraid of the kick. Click. Nothing. Goddamnit, where is the safety?\n", "The papers fell atop the desk neat in an orderly line. \nGreenbacks and note sacks danced across, a feeling so sublime. \nNow's the chance, a sudden shot, \"but sovereignty!\" a whine. \n\"Only criminals want this choice... Who'll investigate my crime?\" \n \nPeace and happiness all abound, inside our little town. \nNo one commits, no one offends, all thanks to one small trick. \nThere is no rule, no law or tort, by sheriff badge or crown, \nThat says you can't kill on the stamp and make your job more quick. \n", "\"Do you to the best of your knowledge and ability swear that all that is contained in this packet is the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth? Say I if you swear\"\n\n\"I.\"\n\n\"Congratulations Mr. Gomez. You are now on paper an outlaw.. this is unsolicited advice here but do you know what you're doing?\"\n\n\"Absolutely.\"\n\n\"Not. I mean, I shot a BB gun once\"\n\n\"Well this right here my man is no BB gun. I'm willing to let this thing go off the books (no charge) in exchange for a little advance on down the line.. I mean only if you have given up on trying to impress your friends with \"morals & ethics\" that is.\"\n\n\"What do you mean by an advance?\"\n\n\"An advance. You know. You are free to live outside the boundaries of law and order now.. if I need someone to disappear or perhaps have my children's college tuition money wired to me, I can arrange for you to get your fingers dirty\"\n\n\"How do you know I won't just run off with this, forget about you AND this town?\"\n\nThe clerk's eyes dot toward the desk\n\n\"I can't really. For the most part i'm hoping you're not an asshole about it.\"\n\nAnd then a quick pause descended upon the room, a few moments pass and then as the clerk begins to speak, the packed lobby continues to murmur and talk just as they had before.\n\n\"Now. Let me show you how this thing works. It's simple really, when you get the gist of the p-\"\n\nAn arrow is shot through a nearby window.\n\n\"pull. Here let me see that thing before you put someone's eye out\"\n\n\"Okay. Offense 101: Rule #1: Don't point at anything that you don't wish to destroy, Rule #2: The safety stays off when in use, on when not in use and Rule #3: If you run out of ammunition, ditch the bow. Don't try to improvise. I highly advise that you keep a sharp hunting knife on you at all times.. for when you run out of arrows ya know.\n\nWith a target being planted firmly on your head, which there most likely will be seeing as helped found one of the most profitable lifestyle apps to date (nice layout you all just introduced too btw. I like it.. helps ease the eyes a little bit) you're gonna wanna always be watching over your shoulder.\n\nI'm not kidding here man, don't walk in crowds. Just don't do it. It's not smart. I have a friend, well had a friend once that. Long story short: The mob ended up lynching him. It was a messy and highly political situation. No fun I presume.\n\nAnd the usual never disarm, use common sense, don't go on Tindr, delete ALL social media accounts and oh only use the Internet in public hot spots (cafes, libraries you know the drill)\"\n\n\"Are you done talking yet? I want to go shoot some coppers, ya know, bust a cap in someone's PIE hole. Maybe even smack a bitch\"\n\n\"Easy there El Tigre, before you run out there and get yourself gunned down the second you walk out the front door you need to know some defense.\"\n\n\"Real quick. Rule #1: Don't duck and cover, run and hide. Rule #2: If outgunned or outmanned, run. Don't let your testosterone get in the way. There is nothing cowardly about knowing how to play 'the game' as the kids call it these days. And finally Rule #3: If someone starts dousing people with gasoline, strip down naked. With the things the mob is using these days, stop drop and roll does NOT apply\"\n\nA slender and fit woman with long black hair, in her early 30s, wearing a star around her neck comes running in.\n\n\"Has he been briefed yet?\"\n\n\"Nope. We were just getting started\"\n\n\"Hurry. We don't have much time. I think they were tipped off, they must have eyes in here\"\n\n\"Mr. Gomez, this here is Lisa. Lisa -- Edgar, Edgar -- Lisa.\"\n\n\"Hi, nice to meet ya\" I said trying not to stare at the symmetry of her nose..\n\nThe obnoxious man kept rambling on and on, presenting to me by way of voice, the many facts and statistics I should know concerning my odds of survival in proportion to my age group, education etc etc.\n\nShortly thereafter Lisa tells me that I should've waited a week later to apply for outlawmanship and a firearm. Considering The Purge begins tonight at 7. Anyone seen with a weapon of ANY kind is automatically assumed to be a rival mobster, citizens who don't wish to participate usually leave town or drive on up to the canyons for the night.\n\nMs. Edwards grabs me by the arm and pulls me to an empty evidence vault. Just in front of it.\n\n\"Well. What are you waiting for? Go for it.\"\n\nBy this point i'm shocked by how forward she was.. I didn't think she noticed me watching her backside as we left the front lobby. But maybe I was mistaken.\n\n\"Are you sure?\" I asked\n\n\"Of course silly. How else are we going to get out of here alive?\"\n\nOk. You asked for it.\n\nI then wrap my hands around her waist and begin kissing slowly on her shoulder\n\nTHAWP\n\n\"OW!!. Jesus Christ. What was that for?\"\n\n\"Where i'm from a lady isn't supposed to let just any man around her like that\"\n\n\"Where i'm from a man takes what he wants.\"\n\nA screeching awkward pause scratches along the wall. I hate awkward pauses as awkward as these. Kind of like how awkward that last sentence were. Was.\"\n\n\"Besides I thought you said it was okay,\"\n\n\"I meant press the button right here.\" She fumbled for a switch that was just out of my sight\n\nAnd then it was all revealed to me. The blue evidence locker slowly erected and revealed its true intentions.\n\nA small tunnel, wide enough only to crawl in and tall enough only to pop your neck every once in a while appeared to be inching us to come on in.\n\nAs we made our way through th-\n\n-- To be continued, perhaps never. Sequels aren't for me. This is the end of the saga. Okay guys it's a wrap. Let's pack it up. Great work everyone. --\n\n", "Jacob awoke, his vision blurry. All he remembered was the crash from behind him in the dark of his living room, then the impact, then the darkness deepening to an inky blackness.\n\nHe could see the sun had started to rise in the distance. By his estimates, that would mean he had been unconscious for over two hours since being attacked in his house, since he'd come downstairs at just past 4:30 AM. \n\nAs he went to move his arms and stand up, he discovered his arms were tied behind his back. From the feel of things, it was likely duct tape. A quick glance over his shoulder as he extended his arms confirmed it. \n\nJacob quickly scanned the living room, but saw no-one. He quietly stood and, with a practiced movement, snapped his bound hands against his lower back, tearing the tape and freeing himself.\n\nPeeling the tape off, Jacob rubbed his sore wrists. He gingerly touched the back of his head, and was immediately greeted with a sharp, stabbing pain. Whoever had hit him had clocked him good.\n\nAs he looked around the room, he saw that he'd been cleaned out. Whoever had broken in took everything of value that had not been nailed down. He felt a low growl of rage growing in his gut that would not be silenced.\n\nJacob moved to the vent at the side of the room and pulled the cover off, retrieving his chrome .45 with two spare mags, and stormed out towards the front door. As he walked down the dirt driveway towards his neighbor's house, he tucked the pistol into his rear waistband and pocketed the magazines.\n\nJacob had crossed the street and was about to hit the intercom button on the front gate of his neighbor's house when the speaker crackled to life. \n\n\"That's far enough, Jacob. You won't get a second warning,\" came the grizzled old voice through the box.\n\nJacob heard the familiar sound of a rifle bolt 'snicking' into place through the intercom. Probably a .308, if he remembered the retired Marine's preferences correctly.\n\n\"Gunny,\" Jacob said calmly. \"Sorry to bother you, but you wouldn't have seen who broke into my place last night, would ya?\"\n\nA short barking laugh erupted from the intercom speaker. \"Don't know, don't care. I don't want nothin' to do with ya, ya dirty traitor.\"\n\n\"I'm not a traitor, Gunny,\" Jacob replied carefully, the rage building inside. \"I'm a sovereign citizen. They're different.\"\n\n\"Not to me, they're not,\" Gunny spat back. \"I swore an oath to protect this country, and I love it, despite the shit it's put me through. You made your choice, and now you're not part of that anymore. You ain't got no code, no convictions... and I don't want no part of ya. Now git.\"\n\n\"Look Gunny, I'm not asking for forgiveness or anything, I just wanted to know if you saw...\"\n\nAn explosion rocked the ground next to Jacob, as a rifle round disintegrated a small hole in the dry earth next to his feet. Jacob jumped, despite himself.\n\n\"Next one won't be a warnin'. Cops won't do shit to me if I take yer head clean off, so you best believe me when I say the next one won't miss. Now GIT.\"\n\nJacob glared towards the house, several hundred feet down the dirt path. He knew Gunny would cut him down before he was 10 feet inside the property line, so it wasn't worth it. He just wished he knew where the sensors were in his security net, because to this date he still hadn't been able to find them, even with binoculars from his house. Jacob slowly turned, and walked back across the rural road towards his property.\n\n***\n\nWhoever had attacked him had taken everything they could see. Luckily, Jacob had made sure they couldn't see everything.\n\nHe descended into the basement and towards the false wall in the south corner. When the government had given people the right to secede, he'd set up a secret cache of supplies for a situation just like this. He'd wanted to be prepared in case something happened, and knew he had to be ready to defend himself before submitting the paperwork. \n\nAs he pushed a small aluminum tent peg into the tiny hole in the concrete wall, he heard a 'click', and saw the wall shift ever so slightly. With a push, the false wall... steel beams with a false concrete front... slid back a couple of feet, allowing him to slide it over on rails to the right. \n\nBehind it was his stash. Weapons, bulletproof vests, MRE's, water purification tablets, the whole nine yards. He'd stockpiled enough to keep him alive for a good three... even four months, if he rationed. At the time he hadn't thought he would need to use it, but now that the supply of gold and diamonds he'd kept as barter was gone... it would keep him alive until he could get them back.\n\nWhoever took his stash would pay. He would see to it.\n\n**\n\nJacob approached the first house, drawing his pistol from its holster.\n\nHe was in a bit of a sticky situation. While he couldn't be arrested for committing crimes, the town Sherriff was under no obligation to help him. Worse, the Sherriff was* obliged to protect the rest of the town citizens, who still enjoyed his protection. If anyone called it in and the Sherriff responded and caught Jacob during the home invasion he had planned, he wouldn't likely arrest Jacob; he'd kill him on sight.\n\nJacob knew he had to be fast. Get in, get his stuff... or find out where it was... and get out before the law showed up.\n\nAs he moved towards the house in the early morning sun, he stuck to the high grass to conceal himself. Carefully, he approached the house from a blind area, after checking to see if there were any video cameras that might spot him.\n\nAs he moved around the corner, checking doors and windows to see if one had been left open, he had a chilling thought: If Gunny had seen him leave, he might call the Sherriff. He might have less time than he thought.\n\nAs a knot tied itself in the pit of his stomach, Jacob forced himself to calm down. He took several deep, calming breaths, focussing on the task at hand. \n\nJacob tried a garage door, and found it to be unlocked. Quietly, he pushed it open and stepped inside, pausing for a moment to allow his eyes to adjust to the darkness. \n\nJust as he was about to move, he heard the distinctive 'pop' he'd heard before; the sound of a Taser cartridge door being blown off. An instant later, he convulsed uncontrollably, going rigid before falling to the floor. As he fell, he realized he was about to hit that same sore spot he'd been hit on this morning. \n\n\"Shit,\" he thought to himself, as his head hit the ground and the world faded into inky blackness once again.", "SB-121\nSenate Committee on Human Rights\nOFFICIAL BILL DESIGNATION: Sovereign-Citizen Rights Act\n[Henceforth shall be written as \"SCRA\"]\n\nIt is by declaration of the law that any Citizen of the Federal Government whom decides that they do not feel they are protected by the laws of the Nation may henceforth separate themselves from Federal Persecution and Protection:\n\nWHEREAS\nAny Citizen that applies and is approved (Approved Citizen) is no longer subject to any Federal Laws or Provisions\n\nWHEREAS\nApproved Citizens are no longer required to pay into Federal Tax programs or Public Monetary funds\n\nWHEREAS\nApproved Citizens are exempted from protection by and from Federal Programs\n\nWHEREAS \nAll Approved Citizens under the SCRA are only to be monitored by local officials and government bodies\n\nWHEREAS\nApproved Citizens only interaction with Federal Government bodies will be to allow for a record of application to the SCRA\n\nWHEREAS \nThe opportunity to regain Citizenship shall be granted by the Federal Government upon completion of \"An Act benefiting the Federal Government of the Citizens thereof.\"\n\nTHEREOF\nThe Approved Citizens surrender theirs rights and privileges under the Federal Charter, and as such are not to be persecuted by official Government operatives and officials." ]	7
	[WP] We are living in a Matrix-like world, there is an announcement that the simulation is ending... every day, millions of people are "transfered" back to the real world. After a couple of months, you are the only one who remained...	[ "It's empty now. \n\nThe announcement came in the form of a hole in space that appeared in the middle of Tokyo. It formed in an instant and began broadcasting its message to the world, for five days it repeated. \"Due to ethical concerns it has become necessary that we add an option to leave the simulation at anytime rather then only at the predetermined points that are currently in place. Those wishing to leave may do so through the gate.\" \n\nAt first there was debate all over the world on what exactly this meant and weather or not anyone should actually go through with it. It started populating all discussion around the world. Friends asked friends, cow workers asked coworkers, wife's ask husbands, husbands asked wife's, and people asked there politicians. It soon became all anyone could talk about until day six when the message stopped repeating.\n\nIt was decided that it was time for a choice. Someone had to be the first to step through and at twelve thirty seven on day six it happened. An young Japanese man who had just lost his job and saw no future for himself decided that rather then leap off tall buildings or politely shot himself he was going to take a risk and go through the portal. He didn't come back.\n\nSlowly more people joined him, people who had nothing left to lose and people who believed that the portal led to happiness all started heading into the portal and then on day ten a new message was broadcast. \"It seems that there was a bug in the program that we never found. so far everyone who has left the simulation have reported not retaining any memories of there previous life. For this reason we have decided to shut down the simulation. It his highly recommended that everyone leave through the exit before this happen, otherwise we will have to subject you to an emergency dump upon ending the program this is a last resort process that has a seventy two percent chance of causing minor to sever brain damage with a ten percent chance of death. The program will end in one simulation year.\"\n\nFor a while all hell broke loose with everyone either rushing for the portal, or saying that it was a lie created by one devil or another, or simply paralyzed by indecisiveness. However as time went or and people started leaving it encourage more and more people to do so until everyone seemed to be leaving on mass.\n\nThere were stragglers of course, but the portal started broadcasting messages to individuals and eventually I was all that was left. not that they didn't try. They started talking to me daily trying desperately to try to convince me that I needed or face death, ignored them. Today is the day before the anniversary of the second message.\n\nI lay on the beach of some country i never bothered to remember when a man appeared in front of me.\n\n\"Hello.\" that was all he said before taking a seat next to me and pouring himself a glass of my wine. we sat there in silence for a few minutes before i couldn't help, but ask. \n\n\"So what is it this time?\"\n\n\"What do you mean?\"\n\n\"I mean what are you going to do to try and convince me to leave this time?\"\n\n\"Nothing.\" he said with a sigh.\n\n\"Really? No grand speeches, no i entered the simulation and put myself at risk, no your life has meaning speeches?\"\n\n\"No none of that.\" he turned to face me. \"I believe that everybody's got a right to do what they think is right and if you think you should stick this out to the end then I have no right to stop you. In fact I'm going to be here with you.\"\n\n\"Why?\"\n\n\"Because out there I'm a eighty six year old man who only has ten years of going crazy and shitting myself to look forward to and everyone kept saying that we wished you didn't have to go through this alone. I plunged myself in right before the end script launched. I figure they have less then a tenth of a second before the script auto launches and there's no way they can get me to leave in that time.\"\n\n\"Damn.\" was all I could think to say, but before I could think of something more he asked the question no one else bothered to,\n\n\"So, why you staying?\"\n\n\"Because I'm a coward. I don't know what that portal leads to and sure you can tell me it leads to another life and that i was there before and could be there again and i have family and all that, but I don't know for sure. besides if this is some kind of simulation then I must of had a good reason to enter it and if i had a good reason to enter it why should I leave. All in all there's a lot of unknowns, that's scary and like I said I'm a coward. I figure that rather then face all those unknowns it was better to face a certainty, the end of this world. Besides I kind of want to see what it looks like when reality stops.\"" ]	1
	[WP] Every sentence has the word "Yam" in it. Every sentence also rhymes.	[ "There once was a man who grew a yam.\n\nPeople thought yams strange; he replied \"No, I am!\"\n\n\"A single yam I made, not beef or pork or a ham,\n\nBut this yam is my friend; no, this is no sham,\n\nAnd my yam's name, I think, is Cam.\"\n\nThen, the Yam Man collapsed with a bam.\n\n-------\n\nMan that was weird." ]	1
	[WP] A church mouse is suddenly made penniless when his wife runs away with all of the cheese on tax day. Describe how he deals with this predicament.	[ "Mother was right, Morty thought as he fidgeted in his seat.\n\nAcross the room sat the secretary, an overweight hamster chattering non-stop into the office phone to who he had surmised was “Felicia”. Normally, he’d find her incessant chatter annoying and put her in her place. He was Morty Moustein for chrissakes. He’d worked hard his entire life to clear the stigma that had come with being a church mouse. \n\nCowardly, poor, beggarly. He’d heard it all. As a child, he’d been teased, laughed at, beaten and almost eaten for being a “churchie”. But he’d shown them. He’d worked. And worked. And worked. Day and night he’d worked, taking jobs that most would laugh at. Little by little, he began to make some money. \n\nFirst a little, then a lot.\n\nSoon, all the naysayers were flocking to his high-rise hole on Boardwalk. He was getting invited to all these swanky parties because “that’s Morty Moustein. He spends big!”. It was at one of these parties hosted by Jerry Warner - the big 90’s TV star - where he met Joanna Rodentia. Joanna was a town mouse from Italy. \n\n“She’s high maintenance Morty” Jerry warned, lighting a Cuban, “And from what I hear, from a family with a lot of cheese”. But Morty was smitten. He had to have her. And so he mustered all the courage his newfound wealth could give him and made a play for Joanna, lavishing her with expensive gifts, dinners at the Raclette, trips to the Netherlands, Germany, France, the whole shebang. So it was kind of hard for Joanna to say no when Morty asked her to marry her under the Venetian sky serenaded by the world famous Speedy Gonzalez and Crew.\n\nMother hated Joanna straight away. She’d warned him about marrying an out of towner. She’d told him she was just a mould-digger. She’d said all the things overprotective synagogue mothers were known to say, but at the time, Morty thought she didn’t understand what it meant to move up in the world. Turns out she was right all along.\n\n“MR. MOUSTEIN!”\n\nMorty spun around quickly to see the secretary staring down at him, frowning. She seemed upset to have been drawn away from her phone call. The nerve.\n\n“Mr. Rattaray will see you now”. She pointed to the door with the name “Giuseppe Rattaray: Private Business” emblazoned on the front.\n\nMorty walked in, holding his hat nervously.\n\n“Ah Morty! Take a seat, take a seat. What can I do for you Morty?”\nMorty sat down and managed a thin smile. Giuseppe Rattaray. For a rat, he really was a paragon of purity in the rodent community. Giuseppe handed out turkey strips for Thanksgiving. He’d funded the “Beat the Trap” initiative to get rid of all rodent traps in the area and word was, he was running for government office next year. He was rich. \nFilthy rich off his business which no one knew anything about.\n\n“Well”, Morty began. “I have a bit of a problem Giuseppe. I came back home and found that um…Joanna’s run off with…well…everything.”\n\nGiuseppe’s eyes grew wider. “Oh my god. Oh my god Morty.”\n\n“Yeah.”\n\n“On tax day?!”\n\n“Yeah. It’s pretty bad. She took the money, the furniture, the cars, everything.”\nGiuseppe shook his head in disbelief.\n\n“You need anything? Money to tide you over? A place to stay? Anything Morty, you come to me.”\n\nMorty fidgeted. “Yeah, about that. See, I love my wife Giuseppe, you know that. But I could never fully trust her. It was a feeling stuck in my gut y’know? So…” Morty got up and began to pace.\n\n“I put cameras all over the house Giuseppe. I know.”\n\nGiuseppe looked confused. “I’m not sure I follow.”\n\n“I put cameras in every room. When I got in, I thought I’d been robbed, so the first thing I did was check the security footage. Any guess who I saw Giuseppe?”\n\nGiuseppe’s face fell as realization hit him.\n\n“Morty…”\n\n“Giuseppe Rattaray, hero of our community. Got his goons carrying MY furniture out of MY house…!”\n\n“I can explain…”\n\n“And THEN…hohohooo…and THEN, he FUCKS MY WIFE! IN MY HOUSE!”\n\nGiuseppe was sweating now. “Morty, let’s talk about thi-whoaaa! Morty!”\n\nMorty pulled out a gun and pointed it square at Giuseppe’s chest.\n\n“You!” Morty seethed. “You dirty rat!”" ]	1
The forces of physics are generally written as Electromagnetism, Gravity, Strong Nuclear forces, and Weak nuclear forces.	[WP] In a time and place where individuals regularly learn to control the Four Elements of Nature, you discover you are part of a select few that can control the Four Forces of Physics.	[ "Toby stared gaping, unable to believe what he was hearing.\n\n\"I can control the four forces of physics? Cool!\"\n\nToby, too impatient to learn the limits of his powers responsibly, immediately began experimenting with the different applications of Strong and Weak nuclear forces. \n\nToby hadn't paid attention in school and didn't understand what these forces did, but he sure was eager to find out!\n\nToby, in his haste, managed to split the atoms around him, detonating a nuclear blast large enough to remove the continent of his residence off the face of the planet. ", "The alleyway was dark, but Timothy knew he couldn't stop. Behind him, a car flew up into the air as the stone beneath it shot upward. He fumbled with his glasses again as he ran on through a door that was open to his surprise. He kept running papers and notes flying out behind him as he ran through the apartment complex and out the back door. He stopped for a moment, he thought he was safe. When he caught his breath he turned around and noticed the river pooling up the embankment.\n\n\"TIMOTHY SEDWICK\" The water yelled as a distinct form appeared. Maria Falls was a very good Manipulator, one of the best. They had studied together for years, but split up when she went into the military and Timothy went into research.\n\n\"It's been a long time,\" She says slowly touching the ground and letting the water seep back into the river.\n\nTimothy took a step back, his back touching the cool brick wall. \"I...I see you learned the Transmutation....that's good\"\n\nMaria smiled and Dorian stepped around the corner. He was dressed in a stone suit, fashioned from the concrete in the surrounding area. His size and strength was something to be feared.\n\n\"Here you are\" He knew how to manipulate the stone so his voice sounded deeper, rougher, meant to intimidate crimals.\n\n\"Hi Dorian\" Through Timothy's mind formulas and equations bounced around in his head. He couldn't look at his notes, he had to do it from memory.\n\n\"I know this is hard for you Timothy, but you are looking into something too dangerous\" Maria creates a ring of sharp ice around Timothy as he continues to look through his mind. \n\n\"Just come with us and we might get you to a nice private resort somewhere safe\" That sounds nice, but Timothy wanted to learn more. If his lab was any evidence, this new area of science is too powerful for anyone to have control, unless him. \n\n\"Are you going to say anything?\" Dorian said, building a cage around him out fo stone.\n\nHe looked up, smiled and remembered. In one swift movement, he stopped gravity in the local area, made himself a super dense object, and reversed gravity on himself. Both Maria and Dorian flew backward into the river. Of course, the building nearby was trying its best to rip itself out of the ground, but he was safe. He flipped through his notes again, found the other equation, and started to fly away. ", "The fireball whizzed past Steven’s head, narrowly missing him by a fraction of a fraction of an inch. And although he was in no danger of any real harm, sloppiness could still result in a rather unfortunate accident. Two more stone disks barely made contact, followed by the lash of an ice whip. Steven side stepped them all.\n\n“I’ll say it again old man, hand over the yuan and no one will have to get hurt.”\n\nSteven took another step back, finding the heel of his foot greeted by cold stone. There was only one way out of this alleyway now, and that was through the three triple threat gang members in front of him. No way in, no way out. And no witnesses.\n\n“Your bending… is impressive” Steven began “But a master swordsmith must study his steel before he can strike his first blow.”\n\n“I’ll strike your head in!” began one of the gang members, but Steven merely waved his hand at gangster. And where the man stood only dust remained. \n\n“What do you know of your elements? Of your reality? Do you really understand, or do you just sling around your weapons like bunch of savages?”\nThe remaining two gangsters found themselves paralyzed, initially out of shock from the atomization of their former friend, but then found that the ground beneath their feet refused to release their feet. \n\n“w-w-w-what… what did you do to Joji…” One of the gangsters stammered.\n“Joji is still with us. Among us. I only reduced him to a simpler state, one that isn’t threatening me.”\t\n\n“You- What did you-“ The second gangster was cut short by another wave of the hand and, again, he too vanished into nothingness.\n\n“You and I are all connected to nature in ways you could not possible imagine” Steven began lecturing to the final gangster. “The ground ‘neath our feat, the air we breathe, you, I, the birds and the trees, even those rocks you clumsily hurl at me, are all made of the same basic building blocks. We are all dust, all of us. You master the elements, ‘Bend’ them to your will. But I… I have mastered the dust. I control it now. I command it to take form.” \n\nSteven waved his hand one last time, reducing the last gangster to nothingness.\n\n“From dust we came, and dust remain. You bend the elements, if you understood the scope of it all, you could bend the world.” \n", "I probably should have done better testing. Or at least thought it through a bit more.\n\nGravity is not 'sort of like magnetism only weaker.' \n\nGravity is not an 'easy way to fly.'\n\nGravity, it turns out, is complicated. \n\nSimply turning it off, even just locally, was nothing of the sort. I know that now. A few minutes too late, but still. I learned my lesson. \n\nNot that the air-bender chick next to me lets this stop her from glaring at me while I'm trying to fix it. Gods, you'd think I launched us off the surface of the Earth on purpose or something. I mean, really, this is all her fault. If she wasn't so gods damned pretty then I wouldn't have felt the need to try and impress her. \n\n\"Look what I can do!\" \n\nUngh. Stupid rotating planets.\n\nShe looks like she's starting to crack under the strain; I doubt she ever had a reason to practice holding a bubble of breathable air steady around herself while careening through empty space before.\n\nI don't want to think about what will happen if she slips up. Or passes out from exhaustion. Or- No. I said I don't want to think about it.\n\nAnyway... Staying focused on the brighter side of life, I think the pale blue dot in the distance is getting bigger instead of smaller. Finally. \n\nI start dialing the gravity between us back down. Slamming into the ground with 10 times the normal force of gravity still on does not appeal. \n\n...\n\nAh crap. I'm going to have to learn how to land 'by doing it.'\n\nI hate physics.\n" ]	4
	[WP] It is the end of an era. In the eternal theatre that is Life, all the major Players have exited left. Only the token comedic character is left to deliver a final soliloquy.	[ "As the ash swirled above the asphault, a figure sits upon a stump, near burnt to a crisp. He is looking torwards the ground with a grim expression, his face vandalized with dirt and dust. But, he then slowly, in one gradual motion, lifts his head up, stands up from the stump and a smile emerges from his thoughts.\n\nHe clears his throat and opens his grinning mouth; \"Well, it appears my audience has left to go home. But it is not burden to a mind such as mine. For although a mind as sharp as mine will not have dull ones to cut through, it will sharpen itself in due time, just in case.\"\n\n\"The world speaks of anguish, but my heart is plugging its ears and yelling at the top of its lungs. What is sadness and woe but a human construct anyway? Pre-historic brooding men wept at the mundane and crafted a term for it, so why should I feel it? It is as petty as the baby on it's stepchair crying because they got poked a bit harder than usual. In the end, this tragedy is a yawn and a look at the watch for the most powerful of beings.\"\n\n\"I am the important one now, the history book is now written and the author is now leaving to get ran over by a car.\"\n\nIf only he knew the difference between a forest fire and an atomic blast.", "Tumble left.\n\nTumble right. \n\nA cartwheel. \n\nHe straightened up, and looked around; a wide, silly grin on his face. \n\nThe grin faded. \n\nThe hall was empty. In the bright spotlights weren't the heroes, the villains, the side characters, the old man narrator. Just a few motes of dust, drifting aimlessly downwards. \n\nHe tottered towards the bright beam, overly large shoes slapping against the hard stage floor. It echoed strangely. No masses in the audience, no roaring laughter, no shocked gasps. No mocking jeers, no half-laughing boos. \n\nHe clutched his battered bowler hat in one hand and tilted his head to watch one dust mote fall, fall, fall. He wafted his hand underneath it, and the dust mote rose again, spiralling out of the beam. \n\nHe danced a little jig, and fell vigorously onto his side. BANG \n\nStill nothing. That usually got a giggle from the children, at least.\n\nHe got up again,and holding his battered hat in his hands, he shuffled towards the front of the stage, where the orchestra pit loomed deep and dark below him. \n\nHe sighed, and scratched his head - a bird came fluttering out from the matted mess of hair, and vigorously pecked his hand before flying off.\n\n\"This is it, is it?\" he asked, half to himself. \"No more heroes, no more villains, no more damsels in distress?\" \n\nHe thought for a moment, swaying from side to side like a marionette who was being pulled this way and that way by the puppet master. Eventually, he sat down on the edge of the stage, mindful of the fart balloon in his back pocket. It let out a sad thrpppppppppppthrrrrrrrrrrrth, trailing off into a thin whine, absorbed by the silence. \n\n\"The hall was never empty.\" he remarked. \"It never was. Always someone here. Always someone to laugh. Cleaners, dancers... always someone. Dozy Fred could always make someone laugh. Even in the worst times. Even when Maria threatened to jump from the roof. I made her laugh then. 'Silly Fred', she told me. 'Thank you for caring'. That was my job, that was. You just had to know how to do it. Funny stories about old stage hands. Capers, giggles. That's how it was.\" \n\nHe thought hard. \"Is no-one here? They're all playing a trick on old Fred, that's what it is!\" \n\nHe leapt up, silly grin appearing on his face. He looked around expectantly, then shook his head and crammed his battered bowler hat back over his hair. \n\n\"I guess not.\" \n\nHe danced then, dancing to the music he remembered so well, capering freely about the stage, no backdrops, no props to get in his way. The floppy shoes were off, left by the front of the stage. He could always dance well.\n\n\"That's how I do it. You had to know how to dance properly first. But it's okay if you miss a step, if you tumble and fall, just spring back up, smiling all the time. They'll laugh. Dozy Fred, you can't get a thing right, can you? But who was the one who kept the play going? Dozy Fred, that's who. When Aladdin forgot his line, when Bottom had bottom troubles, and who can forget that?\" \n\nHe chortled merrily, pausing in his dance to remember the delight on the children's faces. \n\n\"Poppers and balloons and genius buffoons, who's the fool when everyone's laughing? It's not Dozy Fred, it's not. It's the lead actor who stands there, red in the face, he's in the wrong place and it's Dozy Fred who distracts everyone and gets not a thank you, no.\"\n\nHe performed a perfect pirouette and bowed to his non-existent audience. At this, his hat fell off and rolled along the floor as he chased it, catching it just as it was about to fall into the orchestra pit. He held it in his hands, twisting the brim as he turned the hat, feeling the dents, the roughness in the fabric, the bright yellow stitches on the part where he'd torn it to make a crying child laugh.\n\n\"And the band goes on, and the band goes on, but who'll remember the poor little fool? He's been left behind again, left behind again, forgotten and alone.\" \n\n\"But we're all the fools. We're all the fools, and only some of us know it. Poppers and balloons, and genius buffoons, who's the fool in the end? We're all the fools. Just sit down, sit down. Sometimes there's a fart cushion, sometimes there's a pin but we're all together in the mess we're in.\" " ]	2
	[WP] A henchman for an evil villain, defeats the main protagonist.	[ "\" uh, hey boss, I have good news\" said Rob the henchman as he walked to the planning room\n\" Go ahead, tell me\" said his boss in a boring and uninterested voice\n\" you see, PowerMan is dead\" said the henchman nervously\n\" Hold on, really? How did it happen?\" His boss showed more interest in his story\n\" I just shot him in the head with a gun\" he forced a giggle then he went in silence\n\" Oh wow, all my plans, my evil traps, my super weapons and a simple bullet to the head put him down? I always thought he was bullet proof, hell, I mean PowerMan sounds like a powerful guy against bullets\" the boss laughed\n\" that's just all boss\" the henchman walked away \n\" Stop right there\" his boss shouted as he walked away \"who would've thought, the city is now mine, and you are going to be a chief in command now, get your ass over here and help me plan the attack\" \n\nThe henchman walked to his boss with a grin in his face, he knew no one would be able to stop them now that PowerMan was dead", "As Johnny the Hero collapsed backward, Wally stood there, clutching the bloodied pistol. He hadn’t meant to fire the shot. Hell, the bastard wasn't even supposed to be here yet! How dare he show up while he was still setting up the doomsday device!\n\t\nWally shook his head. No no no no, he thought. This is all wrong. He was just supposed to be the wacky sidekick, the fun punching-bag the readers would laugh at!\n\t\nDropping the gun, he crouched next to Johnny--who was bleeding profusely, a stringy pool of red syrup flowing out of him. Goddammit! How had the world’s greatest hero fallen to him, a rube without powers?\n\t\nHe sat on his butt, rocking back and forth. His chest was tight, muscles attempting to suffocate his stupid heart. Why had he even answered that damned ad? Why hadn’t he just been a good son and went to work at his father’s grocery store?\n\t\nEdward the Evil’s voice fluttered down the hall, a horribly excited cackle that made the hair on the back of his neck prick up. He was going to be killed. Oh, yes. He was deader than Johnny.\n\t\n“I’m coming for you, Johnny my boy! I’m going to destroy you once and for all!”\n\t\nWally’s brain was racing. He had to do something, and fast, else Edward was going to tear him to shreds.\n\t\nThat’s when, like a lightbulb over his head, the world’s stupid idea popped into mind.\n\t\nHe looked down at Johnny, who's costume was relatively unstained. If he was fast, he could probably slip it on. The mask would be tight and the cape a bit too long, but he'd have to work with it.\n\nAll he had to do was occupy Edward long enough to bore him. He was the type of villain to reschedule the end of the world if he got bored.\n\t\nReaching down, Wally snatched the hero’s mask off his face and put it on. It was a stupid plan, but it was the only one he had.\n***\nIf you like this story, check out my sub! r/longhandwriter", "“You did what?!” Captain Ironsight slammed his fist on the steel table.\n\nJoseph hesitated for a moment before answering. The whole time back to the Secret Lair, he’d fantasized about how proud Captain Ironsight would be. “I killed…Mystic Man?”\n\n“It’s not a question, Joseph, you either did or you didn’t. Now, did you?”\n\nJoseph hesitated again. “Y-yes.”’\n\n“How?!”\n\n“I shot him. In the face.” Joseph was more confident about answering that one.\n\n“You shot him?”\n\nJoseph nodded, “With a gun.”\n\nCaptain Ironsight sunk into his chair, his face in his hands.\n\n“Are you alright, Captain?”\n\n“Seventeen years, Joseph.”\n\n“Uh, sorry?”\n\n“Seventeen years I’ve been trying to beat Mystic Man.” The Captain looked up at his henchman. “I’ve invented death rays, recruited alien armies, developed super-flus, cloned myself, blotted out the sun, all to try and get him.” He sighed. “And all it took was a bullet to the face?”\n\n“You’re telling me that you tried all that but you didn’t try shooting him?”\n\nThe Captain’s voice came out high pitched, whimpered, “I thought he was bulletproof.”\n\n“Captain, he’s not Superman. He’s just a man with a few magical abilities and who’s, as it turns out, very susceptible to bullets.”\n\nThere was a brief silence between them.\n\n“It wasn’t even a magic bullet?”\n\n“Nope.”\n\nCaptain Ironsight sighed again. “Okay, well, whatever. Congratulations, I guess.” He got up from his chair, pulled a small flask from one of his jacket pockets and walked towards the exit, his shoulders low.\n\n“Is something wrong, Captain?”\n\nThe Captain stopped and turned to the the man who’d killed Mystic Man. “No, Joseph, nothing’s wrong.”\n\n“Well, where are you going? We still have to plan for when the other heroes find out about this.”\n\n“You do it,” he raised the flask to his lips but stopped, “Or don’t. I don’t really care. I’m retired now.” He drank from the flask before continuing towards the exit. “Good luck, Joseph. And don’t wake my clones up. Last time I did that they joined Mystic Man.”\n\nThen he was gone. Joseph stood in the Secret Lair alone, suddenly feeling a bit anxious. He looked up at the domed ceiling that rose two hundred feet up. Surrounded by hundreds of different pieces of equipment that the Captain had developed over the years, from laser pistols to super computers, he had it all. And now it belonged to him. All of this. The lair, the gadgets, all the henchmen, belonged to him. But now he needed a name. Every villain has a name right? He thought Captain Ironsight was cool when he had first joined but, now it just sounded silly. Almost like a cartoon character. He considered ‘Dangerous Man’ and ‘Killbot’ and ‘Master Destruction’, but none of them seemed to click. Then he considered his own name, Joseph. He liked his name, it was simple, not too hard to pronounce. Joseph. He liked it.\n\nJoseph sauntered over to the super computer the Captain had called ‘Georgia’ and changed the account name from Captain Ironsight to Joseph.\n\n“Hello, Joseph,” Georgia said in her smooth metallic voice.\n\n“Hello, Georgia.”\n\n“Would you like to see the news?”\n\n“Sure.”\n\nThe display flashed to WCN where a woman was standing in front of the sandwich shop where Joseph had removed Mystic Man’s face. Below her was a red headline that read: MYSTIC MAN DEAD.\n\nThat felt good.\n\nAnother window appeared beside the main one, another news channel covering the same story. Two more windows popped up, then three more, then six more. All of them covering the death of Mystic Man. Joseph sat in the chair and leaned back, his hands behind his head and his fingers interlaced, as he admired his work.", "\"I-I got him, boss!\"\n\n\"What?!\" Joker exclaimed.\n\n\"I killed Batman!\", I couldn't believe it myself, I killed Batman. His body was lying on the ground with blood coming out of his mask. \n\n\"Where's the fun in killing him by your orders?!\"\n\nWhat? What are you talking about?!\n\n\"Where's the fun in killing someone while hiding behind a gun?\" \n\nI couldn't believe the words that came out of Joker's mouth, this man shoots lord knows how many people every day, but he tells me to literally run up to that fucking bat and punch him? \n\n\"But sir-\"\n\n\"Listen to Mr. J\" Harley Quinn interrupted. \n\nJoker was changing every second, it's almost as if he couldn't take someone besides him killing Batman. \n\n\"Sir? Boss?\"\n\nJoker stopped smiling, what was happening? Even Harley Quinn was suspicious. \n\n\"Mr. J?\" Harley Quinn asked with concern. \n\nNothing. \n\nJoker started to look completely normal, despite his skin being still white and his hair being green. \n\nHarley Quinn just says \"Follow me\" and leads me to a dark room, smiling. \n\n" ]	4
	[WP] Write a story about a happy end of the world.	[ "The world was dying, and it was all our fault. \n\nMother Nature had long been abused by the whims of mankind. Her skies had been blackened by smoke and soot. Her fields of grass buried under mounds of trash and waste. Her oceans covered by floating islands of garbage. Her precious children brought to extinction or only left alive by being entertainment in the prisons humans called zoos. \n\nYes, by our own foolish actions, humankind has driven it's planet to destruction. \n\n...but that doesn't mean that we can't make up for those mistakes.\n\nWith the technology we have now, we could do it. We could clear the black skies and make them blue again. We could clean the landfills and let nature grow green, grassy fields again. We could purify the waters of our mounds of trash. We could bring back the species we destroyed through our genetic engineering.\n\nBut the most important thing we could do for Earth, for Mother Nature, was to leave.\n\nWe no longer need the Earth, our future lies among the stars.\n\nSo this will be our final gift to the Earth, the destruction of the human world...\n\n...but with the rebirth of the natural word." ]	1
	[WP] The worlds most famous superhero makes a confession on his deathbed.	[ "Major lay on his bed, wheezing. \nHis wife held his hand in both of hers, clutching it as if it was the only thing keeping him. \nEven though she knew every moment together might be their last, she still looked like she was the happiest woman in the world. \nThe, since retired, chief of police stood by the door, wringing his cap in his hands. \nHe glanced around the room, trying to rest his eyes on anything but the thing he didn't want to acknowledge. \nThe pristine white hospital room held very little things that could occupy his mind and so his eyes gravitated back towards Major. \nMajor inhaled deeply, speaking slow heavy words, \"Henry, how are things on the steets, the young-uns doing alright?\" he rasped, struggling to speak. \nA voice that once boomed over the city, the mere sound of it enough to bring criminals to their knees. \nPolice chief Henry shuffeled closer, \"I, eh, I've long since retired,\" he smiled apologetically, \"But I hear that it's good, uh, good things.\" \nHe was silent for a moment, abusing the cap in his hands, then he sighed, \"I won't lie to you, Major. Things were better when you were still on the streets.\" \nMajor smiled at that. A guilty smile, he shouldn't find any pleasure in the fact that things were worse now but it's a good feeling - knowing you made a difference. \nThe police chief walked to other side of the bed and set down on a chair, his shoulders sagged, \"The younger generation is doing alright but their battles are breaking the city apart.\" he explained, \"They're destroying buildings faster than the city can rebuild them. The shelters are filled to the brim, so many homeless. Bsinesses have had their - offices, warehouses and shops - destroyed, unemployment is at an all-time high.\" \nThe major's wife shot him angry glances, \"Henry, maybe now isn't the time.\" \nThe major squeezed her hand and smiled, \"Things are as they are,\" he said, \"Not telling me about it won't change a thing.\" \nHenry nodded, staring at the floor, \"The new heroes try, they really try but they can't end fights before they begin,\" said Henry, staring at Major, \"Like you could.\" \nThe retired hero chuckled at that, he managed a good 4 chuckles before it turned into coughing. \nHenry corrected his posture and the mood shifted, \"How'd you do it, Major? Any tips? Tricks? Any advice for the rookies?\" \nMajor smiled a tired smile, the kind of smile that said 'I'm sorry' all on its own, \"I'm afraid my methods aren't the kind that can be taught or shared.\" \nHe sat up in his bed, using the pillow to prop up his back. His wife tried to have him lie down again but he waved her down, \"I'm fine, dear.\" \n\nThe chief stared at him, unflinching, \"50 years of duty, not a single fight. Even the most gung-ho villians turning into a whimpering mess when you got close.\" \nMajor nodded slowly. \n\"I could understand if it was your reputation but things have been like that from day 1. Nobody knew of your existence and yet a single glance was enough to make criminals plead for mercy.\" \nMajor nodded again, supressing a smile. \n\"A single meeting with you and even the most foul-hearted criminals would instantly better their ways and never be seen comitting another crime again.\" \nMajor smiled, he sighed, \"Never be seen at all.\" \nHenry went quiet for a moment, trying to think of a criminal that had shown up after their meeting with Major. \nHis mind came up blank, he peered at Major and leaned in close, \"Did you kill them?\" he asked in a whisper. \nMajor blinked, \"That would've been a mercy, but no. I'm afraid I can't kill anything.\" \nPuzzlement must've shown on Henry's face for one glance was enough for Major to continue, \"It's hard to explain,\" he sighed, \"I can show you.\" \nHenry was getting a bit excited, \"Sure, show me.\" he said with a smile. \nMajor locked eyes with him. \n\nThe room went dark, absolute darkness. \nA ray of light beamed down out of nothingness, illuminating Major in his bed. \nIt was just Henry and the thing that called itself Major. \nHe swallowed, the swallowing sensation caught in his throat. It was being kept there. He scratched at his throat and locked eyes with Major, who was smiling ear-to-ear. \nA smile that wasn't heroic at all. \n\nThe major's lips didn't move yet a voice echoed in the darkness, \"I take pieces.\" \nA horrible screeching sound pierced Henry's ears, he pinched his eyes shut like it would've made a difference. \nHis vision began to blur. The image of Major waving was the last thing he saw before being submerged in absolute darkness. \nThe screeching sound tormenting his ears slowly went away, as did his hearing. \nA voice boomed directly through his mind, Henry clutched his ears. \"Bit by bit.\" it said. \nHenry couldn't tell if he was still holding his ears. He ran his hands over his body but felt nothing. \nNot from the fingertips, not from the body beneath those fingertips. \nWas he still breathing? The sensation of his lungs expanding, in-and-exhaling. Entirely gone. It felt like he was suffocating. \nHe was absolutely sure he was screaming, but he didn't feel his vocal chords tremble, didn't hear the scream. \nHis nose felt like it was being plugged up, his sense of smell was the last to go. \nThe sharp smell of the hospital room a wanting memory. \n\nThe sound of snapping fingers, everything came back at once - with a horrible headache to boot. \nHenry sat sweating in his chair. Major's wife looked upon him with concern. \nHe felt his throat, then spoke, \"I can understand why they quit the life of crime,\" he coughed, \"Wouldn't want to experience that a second time.\" \nMajor perked up, \"Oh, that isn't what made them quit.\" \nHenry immediately regretted the words he spoke, \"What was?\" \nMajor lovingly gazed at his wife and squeezed her hand before looking back to him, \"Henry, I consider you a friend.\" he said with a hand on his heart. \nPolice chief Henry stared at his fingers and rubbed them together, he was ok, \"Show me.\" \nMajor looked away from his wife and, when he was sure she couldn't see, that smile was there again. \n\nThere a sound like a tick, like the flip of a switch. \nHe gazed about the room, back to fingers, towards Major. \nNothing changed and Henry felt like that was for the best, he sighed, it didn't really matter. \nSoon Major and his powers would die and Henry would go back to his crummy 1 bedroom apartment and live of his horrib le pension. \nIt barely kept him from starving to death. That's the kind of appreciation you get after decades as a policeman. \nA string of hundreds of empty days would follow and then, like Major, he would die. \nThere wasn't much of a point to any of it, really. \n\nYears of experience on the force kicked it, like a sixth sense. Hold, something is wrong. \nHe tried focusing on it but quickly lost the will to do so. What's the point? \nHis mind drifted back to happier days, but as it did it broke those memories apart. \nThinking back on it why was I even happy about that to begun with? Must've been young and stupid. \nYet, life back then was as good as it was going to get. It's all downhill from here. \nIt was a matter of time before some powerful villains came along and destroyed everything. \nHe felt like he'd rather not be around to see that happen. \nFuck dying as some nameless victim in some random fucking battle fought by flying retards who wear their underwear on the outside. \nNo, fuck that. He'd go out on his own terms. There's a gun in his dresser. \n\nThere was that fucking sound again, flip of a switch. \nHis teeth hurt, how long had he been grounding his teeth? \nThe sense of despair left him, the hole in his mind that been eating away at his memories faded into nothing. \nHe remembered feeling empty. Like he'd been unhappy all his life and would've been until the day he died. \nLike the floor fell away and sinking neck-deep into darkness, unable to get away. \nHenry was silent for a moment as his mind puts things back together, then stared at Major, \"You did this to them?\" \nMajor laughed, \"Only I didn't give it back.\" \n\"Where did it go?\" \nMajor smiled and squeezed his wife's hand, her face lit up and squeezed back. \n\nHenry felt the blood drain from his face. \nIt dawned on him, those criminals hadn't bettered their ways, they had killed themselves. " ]	1
	[WP] You're waiting for your acceptance letter to the College of Nursing only to find out that you were accepted at the College of Norsing instead.	[ "It finally arrived! At long last, after all that work! My acceptance letter into nursing sch....Wait, what!?\nI looked down at the envelope I had just opened. This must be a mistake! My mind was racing as I read the letter.\n\n\"Dear Waryn,\nIt is with great pleasure that you have been accepted into Odin's Norsing Academy. Your grades were exactly what we had been looking for, your desire to learn about the great Norse gods is about to be realized. In a few moments you will be transported to Valhalla to meet with your guidance counsleor.\n\nSincerely Headmaster Tyr\"\n\nI blinked at what I was reading, how could this happen? \n\n\"Mister Soral?\"\n\nI looked up to see a familiar face.\n\"Mimir?\"\n\nOne of the Norse gods associated with knowledge looked at me for a moment before his eyes widened.\n\n\"Waryn! What in Odin's name are you doing here! It had been too long my friend!\" I smiled at him and began to explain. \"Well, I wanted to go to college for nursing, but I guess I made a mistake and got accepted to your college instead.\"\nHe smiled and shook his head, \"I suppose that is why you were accepted immediately. I'm sure the old man would love to see you and inquire as to your recent adventures.\"\nI smiled, \"of course old friend, but first, let's go to the banquet hall, I'm starving!\"\n\nWe both laughed as we left his small office and headed towards the great Hall for some food." ]	1
	[WP] Your dreams are getting stranger.	[ "'Bad Chinese Food\"\n\nI woke up, flat on my back staring at the white stucko ceiling. I could feel an uncomfortable wet puddle in the small of my back, where my undershirt and bedsheet were bunched up in sweat. I rolled over to my left, swinging my feet off the bed and onto the floor with my elbows resting on my knees. Hunched over I looked up, putting my gaze across the hallway into my open bathroom door where my eyes met the mirror. I saw myself in a full tuxedo, sitting on the edge of the bed looking as if I had just woken up from sleeping off a Hollywood award show's after party. Confused, I look down to my arms and tugged at the sleeves, shooting the cuffs, my hands feeling the friction of the soaked material.\n\nI woke up, flat on my back staring at the white stucko ceiling. I was hot. The air around me was a dry heat, like when you pop open the door of an oven to check a food's temperature. I rolled over to my left, swinging my feet off the bed and onto the floor with my elbows resting on my knees. The heat was unrelenting. Hunched over I looked up, putting my gaze across the hallway into my open bathroom door where my eyes met the mirror. I saw my reflection, myself wearing my tank-cut undershirt and black boxers looking back at me. As I stared at the mirror I said aloud to no one in particular,\n\"Am I dreaming?\" \nThe door to the bathroom swung closed extinguishing my reflection, and a voice from all angles of the room that made my ears vibrate said \n\"Ask for mercy and you may receive it.\" \n\nI woke up, flat on my back staring at the white stucko ceiling. I moved my neck to the left, looking at the mirror across the hall. On the other side of the mirror there were people of all ages sitting down in chairs, straining to take a look at me. I moved my neck downwards, and saw my arms were laid palms up on the bed. I tried to move and could not. I looked back to the left towards the mirror, and the view to my bathroom was blocked by a man wearing a hazmat suit walking towards me, with a needle in hand. I tried to say something but could not, and then I heard a thunderous voice coming from all angles of the room,\n\"Live with your past.\"\n\nI woke up. I looked up at my green tiled ceiling. I felt really nauseous and swung my feet to the right of the bed to run towards the bathroom." ]	1
	[WP] The year is 2033. "Black Friday" starts at 8 pm on the 4th of July. Thanksgiving is all but a folktale. Kohl's Cash is the global currency.	[ "\"Dad, you comment on this every year.\" My son says to me, passed another one of my fits of random chuckling as we walk through our neighborhoods Kohl's grocery section. We wanted to pick up some snacks because, just like in the old days, I refuse to wait in line for days for Black Friday to happen. I'm just going to deal with the crowd like everyone else and that's something that's never going to change. I began to chuckle again as I pick up two packages of Kohl's Brand chocolate chip cookies. They were two for five.\n\n\"Because it's still funny!\" I say, nonchalantly tossing them into the shopping cart. \"When you hear 'Global domination', you don't think of department store would do it. Let alone Kohl's. I mean, when I was your age-\"\n\n\"Yeah, yeah. When you were my age Kohl's we're going out of business. Honestly Dad, it's not that funny.\"\n\n\"Honestly, if anything, I would have expected Sears.\"\n\n\"A:\" he started, grabbing a bunch of apples as we hit the produce section. \"Last year, you said Macy's.\" \"B: Sears was not doing so hot back then either.\"\n\n\"Better than Mervyn's.\"\n\n\"What's a Mervyn's?\"\n\n\"Exactly.\" My son's sighs, still not understanding exactly what I meant.\n\n\"You know, dad, I don't see why we have to be way in the back of the pack because of how you used to do Black Friday. I saved up 800 Kohl's bucks,\" I let out another chuckle. \"Just so I could get your granddaughter those new Apple Holo gloves she wanted. If they run out, you'll have to explain why she's going to be behind all of her friends and why you kept me from doing my civic duty and promoting the proper flow of our global economy.\"\n\n\"I still can't believe you believe that garbage...\"\n\n\"You know I don't, old man. But your granddaughter does, and this is the world she's going to grow up in so we have to get used to it.\"\n\n\"Whatever...\" hey look at that one of the clocks on the wall. However, this one's a bit too far to see you so I can't really make out the numbers. \"Hey, you got the time?\"\n\n\"Yeah it's...\" my son taps his glasses, pulling up the time on the lenses in front of them. \"Oh, Dede's, it's 7:50\" Dede's is profanity now, by the way.\n\n\"We better hurry. I don't want to miss the riot drones beating the Macy's out of the violent ones.\"" ]	1
	[WP]Every week you meet with yourself from a week in the future. One day your future self doesn't show up.	[ "It became a habit quickly between us, every Saturday we met on the bench just in front of Tony's coffee shop, just down the street where we lived.\n\nI first met him nearly two years ago, while I was drinking a cappuccino on this bench. When he came in front of me, the similarities were so many I just was too surprised to react. He went to sit next to me and said\n\n\"The coffee is good at Tony's, right? I tasted it last week, for the first time and I thought that I should come back next week and have a chat, don't you think the same, P?\"\n\nI hesitated and tried to understand the situation thoroughly even if I had a feeling of what the situation could really be.\n\n\"Yes, the coffee is really good, but not as good as the one I drank in San Marino.\"\n\nHe laughed and said:\n\n\"We both know that the best was in Venice, but I totally understand that you would test me, I was suspicious at first. I'm here for our own good. If I fix the problem of the past, the future is corrected and each of us is happy.\"\n\nThe conversation went for a while before I accepted the truth. After that, we met each week and my 1-week future Me gave me informations about how the week would pass. Most of the time it was just little changes but it was enough to avoid the little problems it could generate.\n\nBut right now, it had been nearly 2h that I was waiting on the bench and P1 still hadn't shown up. This was unusual, punctuality was a trait we did not neglected, was it a bad sign?\n\nWill I have a problem big enough to avoid me from getting on the bench? What was it? An accident? A murder? Something else? \n\nI tried not to be negative, after all, maybe the incoming week had gone so well there was no need for me to come back in the past to avoid the errors made.\n\nI went back to my house and tried to live the week the most carefully I could but Wednesday my boss came and told me:\n\n\"Hey Patrick, I can give you a big raise if you want.\"\n\n\"What's the deal?\"\n\n\"You have to move to China, as you asked me a while ago\" he said with a smile.\n\n\"Really? That's... I accept! When do I have to go?\"\n\n\"Friday if you can, I'm glad you accepted\"\n\nSo that was why, the week was good and Saturday I was not in town, I thought with a smile." ]	1
	[WP] You left her. She moved on. You didn't.	[ "I remember that night like it was only yesterday. The wind was cold, biting at the parts of my neck and face that weren’t covered by my scarf. It was almost Christmas, only a few more weeks to go. All the other college students were going home, eager to see their family and friends. I was going home to an almost empty house and a man looking for happiness at the bottom of a bottle. I would be taking a train home from Grand Central Station. My father lived in Poughkeepsie. Our family has always lived in Poughkeepsie. I hated that city when I was younger. I hated that it reminded me of my family, and I hated that no matter how hard I tried I would always call it home. My mother left home when I was only eight. She ran away from her responsibilities to my sister and me; she continued running straight into a tree at eighty miles per hour about thirty miles outside of town according to the police report. My dad ran into a bottle of whiskey, and he never came back. He died with a bottle in his hand and a cigarette still burning in the ash tray about three years after I met you.\n\nI remember that night though, and I remember you. I stumbled into Grand Central Station. My teeth were chattering; my face was burning from the cold. I saw you standing in the middle of the room. It was like in those movies where the spotlight shines down, everyone else is in slow motion, and all the focus is on this beautiful woman. You were wearing a plaid dress and this silly Christmas sweater over top of it. The sweater had two kittens with reindeer horns, playing with a ball of red and green yarn. You looked lost. Your hair was the most brilliantly vibrant red, and I could see the green in your eyes from across Grand Central. I never saw myself as a charming man; I was timid and always felt lonely and overwhelmed in crowds, but it was like you reached out, grabbed me from the crowd, and pulled me to you though. I found myself in front of you, stammering, “A-a-are you lost, miss?” You smiled with the most radiantly beautiful smile I’ve ever seen and said, “Yeah, I’m looking for a bus to Hoboken, but I have no idea where anything is here.” You explained that you were going home for Christmas, too, and left your car at your aunt’s house in Hoboken. You were going to spend the night with her and finish driving home to Scotch Plains. You told me that this was your first time in Grand Central since you had attended school in New Jersey before this semester. We walked to the ticket office and got you a bus ticket. Your bus wasn’t leaving for another two hours; my train was leaving in fifteen minutes. I asked if you wanted to get a drink, and you said, “That sounds like the most wonderful idea I’ve heard all night.”\n\nWe walked down to a small bar down the street, and we talked about what we were going home to. I told you about my mother and my father. I told you about how I spent every Christmas taking care of my father in his drunken stupors. You told me about your parents, taking big gulps of beer as you did. You were an only child, and your dad walked out on you when you were two years old. You were twenty at the time and had found him again just two years earlier. It turned out that he was a drug addict, and finding him was one of the worst mistakes you ever made. He sends you letters asking for money every month. You never reply and just burn them. Your mother was a paragon of virtue though. She raised you by herself and spoiled you rotten. You didn’t know your mother barely made any money until you were almost an adult. She worked three jobs and somehow still always had time for you. You had spent every Christmas with her, and you loved her more than anything. After you had finished your story, I looked down at my watch. It had been over an hour since my train left. I told you what I had done. You smiled that wonderful smile and told me, “You’re cute. I can’t say I’ve had a boy miss a train for me before. I guess it would only be right of me to miss my bus home.”\n\nWe spent what little money we had left to pay for our drinks and started the walk back to my little apartment nearby. We talked, and it began to snow a little bit. You told me that you went to Baruch College and were studying business. I was going to New York University for a degree in English. We made jokes about my degree, and we both laughed. I hear a laugh from time to time like yours as I walk across campus to the next classroom, and my heart skips a beat. We finally made it back to the apartment, shivering and damp from the snow. My roommate, Rupert, an exchange student from England, handed us a bottle of wine and said that he was headed out to a party a girl he knew was throwing. He had been keeping the bottle for a special occasion and said that you seemed special enough to merit the wine. He winked at me before heading out. We retreated to my room, and you climbed onto my bed with your back leaned against the wall. We sipped wine, smoked cigarettes, and discussed politics, philosophy and literature. We talked about what we thought about the president. You told me that your favorite writer was F. Scott Fitzgerald. I told you that I loved J.D. Salinger. I don’t know how it happened, but you were talking about poetry and existentialism when I found that I had pressed my lips firmly against yours. You stopped talking, and we just looked at each other for what seemed like forever. My heart was pounding in my throat, and I can honestly say that nothing in my life compares to the excitement of that first kiss with you. You curled one side of your mouth into a smile and pushed your hair over your ear. You pulled me to you and kissed me again. In my memory, there were fireworks going off, and there was a marching band walking through the living room. We had a crowd of people clapping and cheering for us in that dimly lit apartment. We made love that night and fell asleep in each other’s arms.\n\nWe woke up in the morning, and you called your mother. You told her what had happened, and I could hear her yelling on the other side. You cried, and I held you as you finished the call. She was mad that you hadn’t come home when you were expected. My apartment was cold, and it had begun to snow again while you were on the phone. We stayed in bed all day. We sipped coffee, continued our discussions from the night before, and intermingled kissing between the two. You told me, “This is what I always expected from New York.” I told you that you were the kind of girl that I only thought were in the books I’d read. You stayed another night, and we stayed up playing board games with Rupert and the girl whose party he had attended. You told me that you thought this was all a dream and left on a bus to Hoboken in the morning.\n\nWe kept in contact through phone calls and letters over the holiday. I stayed in New York and spent the holiday with Rupert and his new girlfriend. You told me that you spent the holiday with your mother but were excited to return to New York. You stopped calling and stopped picking up as it got closer to the start of the new semester, and I sent a letter and never got a reply. Two weeks into the semester, I received a letter from California. You had moved to the other side of the country with your mother and had started attending a college there instead. You didn’t include a return address or a phone number. You told me that you would always remember that time we spent together and signed the bottom of the letter with a kiss. I never threw that letter away against my better judgment.\n\nI’ve been married three times – divorced twice, and widowed once – since that night. I don’t know what happened to you, but I like to imagine that you’re happily married with two kids. The kids are beautiful, and you’re married to some wealthy, charming, and handsome man who takes care of you wonderfully. My life has been a rollercoaster of victories and heartbreaks, of love and loss. I’ve never let go of those days though. I like to believe that one day that the strange winds of life will blow you back into my life, and we can share another drink together. Until then, you’ll always be that beautiful red head in the plaid dress and silly cat sweater who added some light to my otherwise dim life, and I guess you could say that I never quite moved on.", "I left thee, woah is me, now I have to jack it nightly.\nFor you see, bumble bee, God had made them hips done rightly.\n\nEvery day, on them hours that I left your fine ass waiting\nWas a waste, for the power of yo big butt was unchanging.\n\nThen I saw, now alone, on Facebook when I done got home.\nThat that bitch, she had found, some boy with healthy bones.\n\nThough he big, though he tuff, making threats online, what a puff\nI see there, in his stature, there in his shorts is not enough.\n\nWell, I am tired, so damn tired, of empty hunts and masturbating.\nSo I come, out the way, I'm getting me some sweet bacon. \n\nOpen yo thighs, and start to bend, I'mma split you end to end\nWith this dick, that you know, I'd like to give you on the lend.\n\n--------------------------------------------------------\n\nP.S.\nHey Amy, can I get my couch out of your place? Or... what? I mean I bought it and I still want it, but you're ignoring my calls. It's like, my bed broke and I need something better than the floor.\n\nI'm sorry I slipped this under your door by the way, I was just in the area and thought I'd make sure you got my voicemails and were being as cold hearted a bitch as I thought you were.\n\nSorry, I didn't mean that.\n\n Fuck. I dunno, call me.\n\n", "It was a mistake leaving Rebecca, Michael realized. There were no more cutesy notes in his brown-bag lunches, nor feet curled in his lap over breakfast. It was the small things he missed most.\n\nHe still remembered how she took her coffee (with milk and too much sugar), how she smiled (tentative and bracketed by dimples), how she laughed (an unladylike snort, no matter how hard she tried to mask it). Memories would overwhelm him as he was walking down the street, hands in his pockets.\n\nAnd he saw her. With someone new. And a dog.\n\nHis heart sank." ]	3
	[WP] You are currently tied up, upside down above a piranha tank surrounded by dozens of guards. "Macgyver" your way out of this situation with the most ludicrous yet technically possible way imaginable.	[ "The whirring noise of the winch coupled with a rough laughs of the guards and bubble tank below confused and disorientated Wayne. Piranhas awaited below and it looked like it was curtains for Wayne who's parkour misadventures show him plummet down a chimney and into the bowels of an underground lair.\r\rHe could his face swelling from the blood rush, the impending blackout was roaring in his ears and he was really regretting that white chocolate and macha fudge frappe he had this morning as his stomach heaved once more. Slowly another voice was in his ears, it was angry no not angry but disapproving, a geography teacher giving him a detention for day dreaming during class.\r\r\"Wayne I'm not happy with your attitude to learning is there anything at all you can recall about South America?\"\r\r\"uh piranhas can eat a cow really quickly and turn you into a skeleton?\" The teacher shook his head \"uh wait no! They are actually aren't that bad it's just a misconception and their easy scared and only eat other fish!\" There was a gentle nod.\r\rThe water was lapping at his overgrown fringe now, he could just see over the tank at the guards below who were in anticipation of their first unnecessarily slow dipping mechanism death and actually their first kill generally. Wayne knew the fish were no threat and got ready to hold his breath just to eek out a little but more life. Slowly his head submerged then his shoulders and then as his chest submerged he began to float. The harness they had used to bind him was partially buoyant and with his own held breath made his body float on the surface. He rolled on his back and breathed in fresh air trying not to splutter. The machine disconnected the harness and began to winch the rope back up, he could hear the guards whooping and hollering with high fives given and one complaint that they should have installed a glass tank to see the carnage. \"best give the buggers a whole to pick at the bone, hit the lid for the tank and lets get some fucking lunch it's taco Tuesday\". A large glass top was slid over the tank by a mechanism and from the echoes of the footsteps it seemed the guards had left.\r\r\r---but what next!? Well shit it's breakfast time s you'll have to wait---", "I was hanging.\n\n It seemed like a ridiculous situation, but I guess it made since. After trying to escape this hellhole of a prison seven times, it only made since to put me in a cell where I was being constantly threatened. Being hung by suspension cords, over a tank of water, surrounded by guards. I gotta get out of here.\n\nI was hanging.\n\nThe piranhas were sitting in the water; I couldn't do anything about them, and there were three guards looking at me. Going down was not an option. There were still guards staring me down. Going around was not an option. However, the cord I was hanging from was hanging from the rafters, and I knew from previous escape attempts that there were things in there to help me. So that was an option.\n\nI was hanging.\n\nI waited until the guards got bored. They were playing a card game that I didn't recognize, but it was sure as hell distracting them. I swung myself up so I could grab the very bottom of the cord, about where I was tied. I pulled myself adjacent to the cord, and climbed up into the rafters. Sadly, and that was there were pliers and a screwdriver. Wait, pliers?\n\nI was no longer hanging.", "I remember the day my old master told me it was finally time to present the true weapon of the ninja to me, and set a case of boxcutter blades down on the table between us. Yes, the little piece of crap disposable blades you get at the hardware store, and not even with the handles. Being a fifteen year old with a fifteen year old's disproportionate confidence in his knowledge of the universe I had laughed and asked where he was hiding the actual sword, and being an eighty-something ninja master with no patience for cocky little shits he promptly slapped me so hard I saw my ancestors on the way down to the ground. \n\nAfter I got done putting the taste back in my mouth, training began. Want to know the fun thing about those little blades? You can hide them anywhere. ANYWHERE. Say for example you know the guy who you're being paid to kill likes to make a big show of hanging people over piranha tanks, tossing them a chunk of cow to rile them up, and then demanding answers while they watch the little things devour the meat. The easy part is stashing a set of normal knives up your sleeves that the guards find when they search you, so they don't bother to find the tiny little blades stitched into your pants and tucked into secret pockets in your oversized novelty \"TEXAS\" belt buckle (blackened for stealth, of course). The hard part is altering your boots so you can hide a blade under each foot and slide it out the front with your big toe.\n\nBut the really hard part? Identifying your target's accountant, installing a bogus wifi access point outside his house to intercept the weird-ass porn he watches when his wife isn't looking (spoiler alert: redheads with latex and strap-ons), popping two states over to shove his mother in law down the stairs so his wife and kids need to leave town for a few days to care for her, renting a motel room to wire with cameras, hiring a BDSM \"model\" who is a dead ringer for the girls he likes to jerk it to to approach him in a bar and then lead him to a motel, busting in the door while she's using him as a bound and gagged post-coital footrest, threatening to send his wife the highlight reel if he doesn't tell you where the target gets the meat for his little demonstrations, asking him to tell you again because you forgot to take out the ring gag before he could answer, breaking into the butcher shop, and stuffing the relevant cow chunks with broken little pieces of boxcutter blade so when the little fish gorge themselves on it they slice their insides to ribbons. \n\nAfter all that, the part where you cut yourself free of the ropes while the fish die, stick the dive into the blood-tainted tank, wait for the inevitable guard panic fire to break the glass, and then murder everyone is basically a cakewalk. " ]	3
	[WP] The Devil Wears Prada... And (s)he wants a refund.	[ "She was taller than you'd think. Six foot something. I don't know, I was always too distracted by her voice to make an accurate call.\n\n\"Is this how you handle things here on 'Earth?' \" I don't know what the air quotes were for, but she used them. I didn't catch everything she said after that, I was too busy wondering why she sounded like someone straight out of Boston. When I came back from my thoughts, I heard: \"This is ridiculous.\" She was holding up the red suede high heels she had purchased a few months earlier. Only thing was the heel wasn't there anymore, it snapped off sometime between now and three months ago.\n\n\"I want a full refund on this,\" she said.\n\n\"I'm sorry, ma'am, that's against our policy. You have ninety days to return an item. It's been ninety one.\" I'd spoken to her about this so many times, I just about had no emotion left in my voice to spare.\n\nHer cheeks were as red as the heels. \"I want to see he manager right now.\"\n\nI couldn't hold back the sigh. \"I am the manager, ma'am.\"\n\n\"Well I want to see another manager. Where's Charles?\"\n\nFine, I don't want to deal with this anyway.\n\nI found Charles by the Men's Jeans, told him the devil-lady was back and wanted to speak with him. He told me to refrain from referring to any customers as devil-anything, even if they were literally the Devil.\n\n\"I bet you don't treat that motherfucker with all his pretty little angels like this. Ninety day policy bullshit.\"\n\n\"Ma'am, if you're going to continue to use that language, I'm going to have to ask you to leave.\" Charles was always professional.\n\n\"Oh, please, Charles.\" She snapped her fingers and the white tiled floor of the store fell into dark, lava filled pits. The screams of the damned wailed from the depths below. Charred skeletons, some of them only half complete, tried clawing their way to the surface. The other customers in the store fell to their knees on a seemingly invisible floor, they cried and weeped and wailed too.\n\nCharles and I had seen this about a hundred times at this point. \"Please, stop,\" Charles said, mildly annoyed.\n\nShe stomped one foot and the floor returned, the cries and screams ceased. The customers in the store stopped too, they all looked at each other, most of them giving each other confused looks, wondering how they'd gotten on their knees. They all stood up and went back to their shopping, trying to ignore what had just occurred.\n\n\"I'm sorry, ma'am, but there's nothing we can do.\"\n\nThe lady grabbed Charles by the tie, smoke rising from her hand. \"Listen here, Charles. I know you've been treating me unfairly these last few years of me coming in as a customer-\"\n\n\"I haven't, but go ahead.\"\n\n\"-but let me remind you that stealing is a sin and you know where sins get you?\"\n\nCharles had been working in department stores since he was sixteen, now the Devil herself couldn't crack him. \"Please, enlighten me.\"\n\n\"They'll land you right smack dab in my home. And in there you play by my rules, keep this little act of yours up and I'll have you working in a department store for eternity,\" she smiled.\n\nI think this one time got to him, though. Charles couldn't stand the idea of an eternity of customer service. \"I really hope your joking with that one,\" he said.\n\n\"Hmm, I don't know, maybe I am, maybe I'm not. Who's to say?\" she giggled and let go of his tie, the place where she'd grasped was charred. \"I'll be back here in a week, you better have me another pair of those heels when I get here.\"\n\nThe heels she wore kicked up sparks as she walked towards the exit. \"See you in hell, Charles.\" She smirked, winked, then vanished. \n\nCharles sighed and looked at his ruined tie.\n\n\"I'll get you another one,\" I said.\n\n\"Make it a black one, that way I won't have to replace it next time she comes around.\"\n\nA week later, Charles and I had been discussing her imminent visit when she showed up at the front desk. It was so strange how she always seemed to show up when we'd talk about her. " ]	1
	[WP] You've been hired by the dark lord to play a wise mentor for up and coming adventurers.	[ "It's always a tavern isn't it? Thats were the lord high-demon or whatever he calls himself picked me up. Dragged me out when i was blin drunk and got me to sign a contract i never read, he just waved some gold in my face and i signed away. I guess it pays well, and as ive proved time and time again im a bad person.\n\nIts pretty much how i grab the cannon fodder i send to their doom as well. Some new party swaggers in to town, has a few drinks and they practically sign there lives away for me.\n\nI've been doing this a long time. Far too long really, though the beard and the grey hair helps the whole wise mentor get up. But no matter how long i do this it dosent stop the guilt building up. So there i would sit, downing my ale while the group of dwarves (or was it elves?) I sent away last week get gutted by my boss.\n\nOh i'd thought about fighting him back before, build up a few groups into a little army, and if i was sober when they approached me things might have been different.\n\nShould have known who they were really, but ale never helps in the thinking department. I should have known id become a lose end, a drunk who couldnt be trusted to keep his mout shut much longer. So what do you know, they showed me their little warband, flashed me some gold and and a contract and i signed.\n\nIdiot.\n\nSo here i sit. The rangers dead eyes stare back at me from whats left of his head. The mage just turned into red mist and im desperatley holding my bowels in. There is a wet smack as the fighter's lifeles body smacks against the back wall. \n\nIm tired now, gods im so tired. They call to me, the souls of all thoose i damned, crying out for vengance, justice. Men and women who trusted me, even loved me. I never lifted a finger to save them. Like i said, bad person. \n\nHe turns to me, with thoose fiery pits that might be eyes.\n\"Bad choice old man\" he hisses, the power behind his voice shaking me,\"i dont take broken contracts lightly\"\n\"Then just kill me\", the words come out in a gurgle, the air forcing its way through the blood in my throat.\nHe just laughs, and laughs and laughs.\n\"Why would i do that when my pets can do it for me?\"\n\nThe door behind him opens, and a thousand faces i had forgotten and buried stare me down, hunger burning in their dead eyes. It's like staring all the sins on my life dead in the face. And as one, thoose sins wash over me.\nWyrd Biđ Ful Aræd.\n(Fate is inexorable)", "“Why would you possibly need someone like me?” the old wizard asked, more than a little skeptical. “And why would you possibly want that?”\n\t\nThe Dark Lord sat slouched in his throne, swooshing a goblet around, watching as the red pool of wine splashed against its golden walls. He seemed to be keeping his eyes off the wizard, as if horribly embarrassed. “You’d never understand.”\n\t\n“I think I’ll very well need to if I’m to do a good job.”\n\t\nAt this, the Dark Lord sneered, rolling his eyes in an oh of course kind of way. “You goodie-goodies are no fun,” he replied. “Always fussing about the details. Always making sure you’re doing what’s right. Can’t you just, I dunno, trust me?”\n\t\n“You are the Dark Lord, sir,” the wizard reminded.\n\t\nHe sighed. “Fine. Want the truth? I’m bored as a stick in the woods.”\n\t\n“You’re what?”\n\t\n“Bored! B-O-R-E-D!”\n\t\n“But you rule everything in sight! Your powers are unmatched!”\n\t\n“And that’s just the problem, isn’t it? Without a hero challenging me, I’ve got nothing to do but sit on my butt and wait. Ruling without tension isn’t any fun at all!”\n\t\n“So, you want me to mentor a...hero?”\n\t\n“Exactly! And make sure they’re tough. I want a real fight for once!”\n\t\nThe wizard, mulling the proposal, fiddled his fingers, struggling to find a reason not to take the it.\n\t\n“...And the pay?”\n\t\n“Better than the best you can imagine.”\n\t\nWith that, the wizard shrugged his shoulders and took the easy route. After all, training somebody to defeat the most evil man in the world can’t be that bad, can it?\n\t\nReaching his wrinkly hand toward the Dark Lord, he flashed him a friendly smile. “All right, you’ve got a deal. Just don't come crying to me when my warrior beats you into the ground!”\n\t\nThe Dark Lord’s face bloomed with happiness as he smacked his hand against the wizard’s, letting free a deep, barrel-chested laugh. “That’s the spirit! I knew I could trust you!”\n\t\nAnd with that, the both of them stand, the Dark Lord frantically ushering the wizard toward the door. “Hurry now! You've got a job to do!”\n\n**\nIf you like this story, check out my sub! r/longhandwriter", "\"...And as you can see here,\" the Dark Lord, King Dragon, pointed at the contract with a bony finger, \"you'll be given 14 paid vacation days a year should you accept the position. Plus, if you don't use those days, don't worry they'll be added onto next year.\"\n\n\nKing Dragon then looks at me with glowing red luminescent eyes. His expression is unreadable, with that hood over his head the only image presented to me is a void with glowing orbs. If I could guess, I would assume that the Dark Lord is gauging my reaction to his job offer: the wise mentor - or as I'd like to call the position - the Tutorial Character.\n\n\nSigh* How the hell did I get myself in this situation? When the KingsList advertisement had offered a position for an individual with experience in the basics of everyday life, I had assumed that I would be a teacher for some shut-in prince or something along those lines. I didn't even know that the Dark Lord of the land had Internet, let alone know how to use it! \n\n\nMy first initial plan was to turn down the job proposition, but I when I asked why there was a skeleton lying in the corner of his throne room, King Dragon had let out a hallowed cackle of a hundred voices. \"That was the previous wise mentor who failed their job interview. Had good potential too. It's unfortunate that he declined the job in favor of becoming a baker. Or was, really.\" he had said. \n\nSo...yeah. Saying no politely gone and flung into the ashes of memories. My next step was to bullshit my interview questions and make King Dragon think that I was an incompetent idiot who didn't deserve the job.\n\nI can only say that it only dug my grave of freedom even deeper.\n\n\"...So let's say I were a fresh up and coming adventurer with the quest to stop the handsome King Dragon from ruling over the world. If you were the wise mentor entrusted with helping me, the adventurer, how would you go about it?\"\n\nI shrugged as I let out the most forceful of yawns I could muster. \"I would tell you to go fuck yourself and then proceed to throw you into the 2nd dungeon with nothing but the clothes on your back. I would tell you to \"git gud\" as I dangle your coin pouch and bag of potions from my middle finger before I would abruptly seal off the entrance.\"\n\n\"...And what of the 1st dungeon?\" he had asked.\n\n\"Fuck the 1st dungeon. I'm not going to hold your hand while I lecture you about the history of why King Dragon is evil. You want information on the world and various combat? techniques? Go to a library, I don't care.\"\n\nHe looks at me in silence for a good minute. Heh, he's probably thinking of what a horrible mentor I would be.\n\n\"That...That's...\" Ah yes, here comes the disappointing decline. I better prepare my fake tears. \"...That's absolutely brilliant!\"\n\nWait what.\n\n\"Leaving the adventurer to deal with the issue themselves in such a way where you don't appear cowardly or weak while at the same time you announce your neutral stance throughout the entire adventure - my word, that's genius! And leaving them to fend for themselves in the second dungeon without any training...I see what you're planning. Trying to weed out the fake adventurers from the real ones for me to fight eh? Natural selection at its finest! Hah hah hah, you definitely deserve the job; you're hired!\"\n\n\nAnd now we reach the present time.\n\n\nAs the Dark Lord points at various locations on the map of where potential loot drops may occur, an echo repeats in my mind.\n\n\nFuck my life.\n\n\n" ]	3
	[WP] Describe the shape of the back of your teeth based on what your tongue feels.	[ "It was dark, the creature noted as it woke up in a strange world. Without hands or ears or eyes or a nose, it moved its entire body around to survey its whereabouts. Besides two mountain ranges, there was nothing around, not a single living thing besides itself. If it is the only thing inhabiting the world, then it must be a god, figured the creature.\n\nThis is a warm, comfortable world, thought the creature. Once again, it moved its body to get a better understanding of the mountains, running in two sets of parallel arches going down the creature's sides. It was much bigger than the individual peaks, some jagged, some pointed and sharp, some flat and smooth. The creature could do what it wanted; it could squirm every which way as it felt the smooth but hard texture of the landscape. Yes, it was indeed a god, the creature maintained. A powerful god, it furthered, for there was nothing to oppose it.\n\nFor a while, the god lied there in the dark silence, content that it knew what it was.\n\nSuddenly the world rumbled and the mountains split apart. Before the god could react, the opening let in a terrible stream of liquid, scalding its body. Writhing in pain, the god danced around the horrible substance until it escaped away. But it left a new sensation that the god had never felt before. The world was... bitter. No, this wasn't texture or temperature or pain. This feeling was something... else.\n\nPerhaps there's more to the world, the creature considered. \n" ]	1
	[WP] We didn't realize it at the time, but in 2017, the world was headed for war.	[ "WW3: War of the neck beards\n\nDoesn't sound so bad when written that way, but it was that bad. WW3. Hipster war. Man. Fuck.\n\nThe Neck Beards struck as fast and as furious as a movie franchise title rip-off only could: Decisively precise. And it ended on the kind of cliché that ony a B-movie quality owning its name to a franchise title rip-off could: MRE's aren't vegan. AKA: Stupid fuckers starved. Guess how many vegan MREs there are? Actually, you're wrong. There are vegan MREs, just not the ones the military typically orders. The Neck Beards, knowing this, ordered straight up vegan MREs - and, when you're fighting cubicle-trench warfare, guess what you soldiers want to eat? Not vegan, apparently, judging by the pallets of unopened an unspoiled food stuff surrounded by starved squads of alternatively trained soldiers.\n\nIronically - if irony were such a thing in 2017, when all that seemed strangely coincidental was deemed ironic, while the truly ironic was labelled carnivorous (albeit smart, these weren't the wisest of the bunch), the rifle model proved to be the downfall of the neckbeards, starving to death as they already were. The gas recoil assembly was made of iron, with minute traces of mercury left over from the final assembly paint job. Mercury, being first amongst both Sol planets and Neck Beard toxins, was a no-go. Ergo, rifles could not be fired due to the extremely rare possibility that touching it might elevate ones' mercury levels within the range of acceptable tolerances.\n\nWW3 involved a bunch of starving hipsters who wouldn't eat vegan, and wouldn't fire weapons that might contain safe trace levels of mercury.\n\nWhich begs the question: Why did it start at all? And, when exactly did it start?\n\n2017 is generally considered the epicenter of WW3 propaganda. And, like everything involving politics, war, and Neck Beards, this war started with Hollywood celebrities, specifically the Meryl Streep brand of vegan SheepSkin prophylactics. Yeah, that went about as well as you'd expect. Unironically (according to the Neck Beards), but simply uncoincidentally according to everyone else with a basic understanding of grammar, it performed exceptionally poorly at blocking STDs that affected eyesight.\n\nSo, there the world found itself: Deep in the throws of WW3 due to a bunch of neckbeard soldiers who, when push came to shove, wouldn't eat vegan, nor fire their possibly mercury tainted rifles, because they wrapped a Streeper on their creeper and got an STD in their peeper." ]	1
	[WP] Write about your best friend: a trebuchet.	[ "It has been a long and gurgling battle hasn’t it. The dark brood surly felt that last payload we descended upon them. They all said that is was insane to use a dragon skull as a counterweight. But I say hey if a tiny dwarf and his best friend can knock a mighty dragon out of the air. Then we have first dips on the spoils. It was almost as if it wanted to join the team flying directly at us like that. \n\nUnlike the others, I love to adorn you with the treasures we have found. We stand out when we are in ranks. Let them have their regular dwarven iron and oak frames. We shall stand tall with our frame made from the rich redwood ripped off that orc watch tower. Our beam that steel rod the crazy scientist forgot to tighten on his dooms day weapon. My favorite part is the kraken tentacles you have for a sling. Even if their sometimes hard to work with. \n\nWe are still sporting the normal iron wheels. Although I hear the dark elf’s have a new mystic magic to move locations on the battle field. I do hope peace talks fall apart. That way Ill be one step closer to perfecting you, my old friend. \n" ]	1
	[WP] You walk into a white room and see Morphius holding a red pill and a blue pill. As you approach him, he begins to explain your choices, but before he can speak, you grab and swallow both pills.	[ "The instant that both pills pass your lips, everything stops. For a moment you don't know what happened, and then you notice reality warping and flexing. Gradually the depth of three dimensions gives way to two, then one. A line stretching vertically to infinity seems in some impossible way to rotate, and then two dimensions begin to emerge from the line again. Once again you're looking at the world laid out like a map hung before your eyes, but this is not your world. \n\nMorpheus is nowhere to be seen, the room is gone, and in its place is a sere grassland with only the occasional spindly cactus breaking the endless expanse of brown and tan. The night sky is black, and at first you think clouds have blocked out the stars. You realize however, that there are simply many fewer stars, clear as they are in the cold, dry night. Where you once saw rivers and oceans of stars, you now see pinpricks. \n\nThe moment passes and you start to move again, to breath, and you whirl about to find the door you walked through; you see only endless withered grassland and the nearly black, moonless night. There is a strange bilious light, faint and omnipresent, and it strikes you suddenly that it casts no shadows. As you kneel down to examine the ground you realize the sand itself is glowing faintly. \n\nTaking a pinch in your fingers it feels rough, gritty, the grains varying in size from nearly dust, to tiny pebbles. It's definitely the source of the light, and as you rub some between your fingers it crumbles like dry clay. Dusting off your hand on your pants and rising, you notice that where you've handled the sand, in fact anywhere you and your clothing touched the sand, is emitting the same faintly yellow light.\n\nPanicked, you stick two fingers down your throat and desperately vomit the pills you'd taken less than a minute earlier. With a terrible heave and your last meal, they splatter on the dust, and world shifts again.\n", "\"You wake up in your bed and believ...\"\n\nI snatched both pills from the Morpheus' hand and swallowed them with a bit of difficulty. The headache was killing me, and didn't want to wait another minute before taking some Advil. With a sigh of relief, I thanked him:\n\n\"Dude, thank you so much. How did you know I needed these?\"\n\nHe blankly stared at me through his, frankly, very stylish sunglasses, and just stood there with his black leather coat and his mouth wide open. I asked him \"What's wrong?\" He replied: \"Uhh... Guess he wasn't the One. Nice going, Trinity...'\nShe yelled from the back of the room: \"I mean, can you blame me for thinking it was him? His name is an anamagram for One, for god's sake!\"\n\n\"What's going on? What are you guys talking about?\" I asked nervously. I began thinking those weren't Advils after all.\n\"You know too much. Time to say goodbye.\" Said Morpheus, as he whipped out a pistol from his coat. He aimed it at my face, and readied himself to end my life. He really must've needed the pills more than me...\n\n He pulled the trigger. I saw the bullet rushing towards me, and I knew my life was really close to ending. I closed my eyes waiting for the pain and embraced it.\n\nBut nothing happened. \n\nI slowly opened my eyes, and saw a bullet hole right in my forehead through my shooter's shades. All three of us in the room said at the same time, almost like a commom thought that transmitted itself through our minds: \n\n\"Woah\" \n" ]	2

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