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
	[WP] The greatest mistake they made was stealing your heart. You are the Tin Man, and Oz is under attack.	[ "The lion's battle roar had turned to a half-hearted, distant chuckle.\n\nThe scarecrow's strategies and observations had dimmed to submission.\n\nThe girl and her dog no longer sought after a place called home, wandering, attached to neither place nor persons.\n\nThey had all haphazardly gathered, guarded by myself, a man of tin whose heart blazed for my pain stricken companions.\n\n Days upon days. Blank stares. Mastered shrugs and sighs in response to my care for their troubles, and no notice my own. \n\nNights upon nights. Aches lay stifled under silence. Expectations of sleep and dread of new days listlessly haunt and dwell in the air around us.\n\nNo one grieved when at last my heart was absorbed by this apathy. The fog of indifference had taken us all as the poppy fields once seduced us to sleep. I no longer recall what it feels like to care, though I vaguely remember pain. Perhaps it is for the best, then, that I no longer feel. After all, there is now nothing left to guard and I am weary. \n\n", "Wings flapped and monkeys shrieked all around as the Tin Man brandished his axe. The Emperor of the Winkies had lost the one thing that mattered to him. His heart, and he would find it no matter what. \nThe wandering pack of the Wicked Witches' monkeys were to be the first of his victims. Not out of anger, but necessity. \n\"You will tell me where it is\" He said, devoid of the emotion he had once had. \nThe monkeys sporadically surrounded him, their shrieks and screams of rabid anger did not scare him. He stood with calm focus. And then he struck. \n\nThe pack scattered, his first victims head plopped off with a swift swipe of his silver axe. The rest began closing in, he could not count them. Two rushed him from behind, quickly turning around one scratched at his face while the other bit down on his metal shin. \nDriving his fist into the first monkeys' face sent it flying with a few less teeth and continued to bring his foot down on the second monkey who was gnawing on his shin. \nIt shrieked and dragged itself away in panic, the rest scattered in fear as they. \n\n\"WHERE IS MY HEART!?\" He roared as they fled in every direction away from the Tin Man. His search would not end here. He would find the one who stole his heart and he would have what was taken from him. ", "“Take it! Just take it back! Please”!\n\nThe figure stood up from his previous victim, pulling his arm out of its torso. The cowering creature held out its quivering hands and offered a bright red box to its assailant.\n\n“ I know what’s in it” he said softly, his voice seemingly devoid of any emotion.\n\n“Then you’ll take it, right!? It’s what you want?? We surrender; we’ve given you our word, we won’t return”! The creature shook even more violently, its bony arms reached out as if to keep the man out of its sight.\n\n“No” he said calmly. “Not until I finish what you and your kind started. Not until you pay for the blood you have spilled. The blood of my friends. Of Toto”. He paused and peered downward as if to become emotional, but nothing came. The gears turned for a second before he looked back up at the creature with his black, soulless eyes. “This war is just beginning”.\n\nA shriek could be heard from outside the castle, a crunch, and then; silence. Oz was dark, smoky and burning as the Tin Man marched through the gates, leaving behind his resignations next to the bright red box on the ground. \n\n\n----------------------------------------------------------------\n\nHi I'm u/KalimaWrites and I'm new at this thing! Let me know if you like this, any suggestions would be appreciated!\n" ]	3
	[wp] When humanity's primary team of supers are destroyed, its up to you, the 'indiscreet' affairs children of your super powered parents to take up the mantle.	[ "\"Bastards - Circlejerk!\" Lance Jordon called. He fished around his front pocket through several receipts, paper scraps, and loose change to find his green cockring. He reached down his pants and jimmied it on. Immediately, his crotch glowed green.\n\n\"That is so foul,\" Sparkle Prince said. She swatted her golden magic buggy whip against her amazonian bicycle helmet.\n\n\"Geez guys,\" VampBat Gordon said. \"Take it easy. Here,\" he shook a small yellow and black tin. \"I raided these from my 'beat's bomb-shelter.\"\n\n\"Ooh, Pharma,\" Sparkle said and reached for the tin. She popped the lid off with practiced ease and fingered through the various capsules. \"Oh poop, these are just old-man pills. Immodium, Tylenol, and a whole lot of Viagra.\"\n\n\"I'll take one,\" Lance said.\n\n\"Me too,\" VampBat said, but he took an Immodium on accident. \"Should I get the Wunderbrats up?\"\n\n\"Hell no,\" both Sparkle and Lance said at the same time.\n\nSparkle said, \"We don't want to hear them say one more goddamned time Incestuous Twin Powers - Activate. It's goddamned nauseating to think about.\" \n\n\"So, uh,\" Lance began, \"Do we know what we're supposed to be doing here?\"\n\nSparkle cracked her buggy whip. \"I've been practicing. Apparently, getting whacked with this forces someone to feel a sudden onset case of ennui. It's, like, tots aweful.\"\n\n\"Aren't we supposed to stop the bad guys?\" VampBat asked.\n\n\"Aren't we the bad guys?\" Sparkle asked.\n\n\"No way,\" Lance said. \"We're like, in the headquarters. And, besides, all the old super villains are gone too, so we should have plenty of practice time on parking violators.\"\n\n\"Don't forget people who drive slow in the left lane,\" Sparkle said. \"That's like finding out Weinstein diddled Sheen while Polanski filmed with super-8 while standing naked in a pool of his own - \"\n\n\"Jesus,\" Lance said. \"You're really hung-up on that, aren't you?\"\n\n\"Well, can you believe how nutty it got?\"\n\nVampBat giggled. \"She said nutty. Get it?\"\n\n\"Yeah,\" Lance sighed. \"Anyway, we're the good guys, right? I mean, look at this place. It used to be Batman's, right?\"\n\n\"Um, no,\" VampBat said and shook the can.\n\n\"Well, it's got this wicked skull shape to it. Is that Amazonian?\"\n\nSparkle rolled her eyes, swatted her bicycle helmet. \"Does it look Amazonian?\"\n\nLance pulled out the hem of his pants and studied his crotch. \"And, it doesn't look like it's glowing green.\"\n\n\"Are we in the right place?\" Sparkle asked. \"You followed the directions, right? I mean, I did say - \"\n\n\"Yeah, yeah,\" Lance said. He pulled out his phone and showed her the picture. \"Wait, sorry, wrong one. Here, this one.\"\n\n\"The one that looks like a treasure map and is titled: Map to Evil Lair?\"\n\n\"Yeah, um, it says that?\" He looked at the phone.\n\n\"X marks the spot? Who does that?\"\n\nLance zoomed in, and then tipped the phone to VampBat. \"Well, look at that. Does that shape look familiar to you?\"\n\n\"Dude, it was a different time, and he was ancient. Like fifty or something. I mean, look at this - \" he fished around in his utility knapsack and extracted an aerosol can. \"It's got friggin CFCs in it. The top says bite-here to open. And it's made of lead. And it has teeth marks on it! Or, how about this one. Sleep gas? Yeah, that's probably like ten grand of opium. It even shows the ingredients: Opium. Weed killer? Agent Orange. Bee Repellent? Monsanto Pesticide. The guy was a walking billboard for the nineteen-fifties.\"\n\n\"So, what you're saying is, X marks the spot,\" Lance said.\n\n\"Yes,\" VampBat said.\n\n\"X marks the location of the evil lair!\" Sparkle jabbed her finger at the phone. \"It's written at the top. In cursive.\"\n\n\"Oh, those,\" Lance said and winced. \"I thought that was just some scroll work or something.\"\n\n\"No, it's cursive. We're in the evil villain's old lair.\"\n\n\"Ok, so now I'm confused,\" VampBat said. \"Does that mean we're the bad guys now?\"\n\nMeanwhile, at the Hall of Justice ...\n" ]	1
	[WP] no creature has ever needed to sleep. What is the average day for a person in this reality?	[ "There is no start to Thomas's day, there is no day at all. Thomas lives in cycles, one for work and one for school and little bits of eating in-between. When I say on cycle I don't mean to imply Thomas only has one job, he has three. The Fair Labor Standard dictates no person can work more than ten hours in a standing job without spending at least eight sitting. The worst of it is that school time dosent even count twords sitting, outrageous! So after ten hours of serving tables Thomas spends time at two call centers, all of this around his schooling." ]	1
	[WP] You're a colonist on humanity's first colony starship. After a 13-year near-lightspeed journey, you arrive at Tau Ceti. You look out the window of the ship. You're horrified. Screams are heard across the ship.	[ "Every passenger had doubts about the trip and the risks they were taking. Many woke up at night from nightmares about being alien sushi or arriving at their new home and finding that it had been devastated by a nuclear war but on balance, anything must be better than the crass commercialism they had left at home.\n\nHe rubbed his eyes again and hoped that this was some side effect from slowing down from near light speed travel.\n\nHe listened as the captain announced that within 6 months of leaving earth, warp travel had been discovered and the planet was colonized over ten years ago.\n\nHe looked back out of the spaceship at the massive Coca-Cola sign and started to sob.\n\nLet me know if you have heard this story before, as I was writing it I got a sense of deja vu, I will delete if I have accidentally plagiarized someone. I have a terrible memory.\n" ]	1
	[WP] You're at a party where you don't really know anyone, so you decide to explore the house. You disrupt an insane situation with every room you walk into, each crazier than the last.	[ "Kevin didn't recognise a single face in the sloshing crowd. Wasn't he supposed to be meeting Samantha Cauley here? A chance with her was the whole reason he'd come after all. Instead he had found himself filling the role of That One Sad Loser, sulking in the corner, occasionally taking a hit of whatever shit was drunkenly passed his way. Then a sudden realisation dawned on him.\n\nI need to take a piss.\n\nHe fumbled through the sea of recreational smoke, jostling back and forth between dancing bodies and tripping freshmen, before finally finding his way to the stairs. Whose house was this anyway? If it was Todd Blakemore's place then he was definitely going to piss on the toilet seat. That guy was an asshole.\n\nThe thudding of the music became a muted echo as he stumbled up the stairs to the second floor. It was empty up here, save for a row of plain white doors lining the walls of the corridor. There was at least three rooms that he could see, and probably more around the corner at the end of the hall. Must be nice to own such a big place, he thought. You're an asshole, Todd.\n\nSpurred on by his desire to piss on Todd's nice things, he grabbed the handle of the first door and pushed it open, revealing the dark outline of a small bedroom. A voice squeaked in surprise inside. Ah, he thought as he felt around for the light switch, a drunk couple getting lucky tonight, eh? Well that doesn't seem fair at all. And so he flicked on the switch with vindictive glee, flooding the room in bright light.\n\nSamantha stared back it him, eyes wide, sheet wrapped hastily around her bare breasts.\n\n\"Oh,\" spluttered Kevin, trying to decide how much of the view he could politely take in, \"I was, uh, trying to look for the bathroom... I'll just - \"\n\n\"What the hell, bro!\" A new face popped up from under the covers, ginger eyebrows furrowed in rage. \"Close the goddamn door, can't you see I'm working here?\"\n\nTodd fucking Blakemore.\n\nKevin's lip curled. He felt his hands balling into fists. Bile burned in his chest. Before he could control himself, he was storming towards the bed, spitting curses along the way. He grabbed the sheet and yanked, revealing the naked bodies of... all three of them?\n\nA second woman rolled over lazily, as though the whole situation was boring her. She brushed her hair out of her eyes before looking up, recognition filling her face. \"Oh, hi sweetie.\"\n\n\"Mom?!\"\n\nKevin almost threw up. He tripped over a pile of discarded clothes as he stumbled backwards, trying to put as much distance between them as possible. His mom's smiling face was the last thing he saw as he slammed the door shut.\n\nWhat. The. Fuck.\n\nHis mind raced. This was it. This was the worst night of his life. How would he face down the other guys at school now? He would be the butt of every joke for the rest of the year, and that would be the best case scenario. His stomach churned. He needed that bathroom more than ever now. Trying to shake the image from his head, he fumbled over to the next door in a daze, barging into the room without a second thought.\n\nThat's where he found the llama.\n\n\"Hello, Kevin,\" it said, furry lips slopping saliva all over the floor, \"I'm surprised you were able to find me so soon. We don't have much time, I need you to open the dresser.\"\n\nKevin's jaw fell slack. \"Are you a... a guy... in a suit or something? What are - \"\n\n\"Kevin, we don't have time!\" The llama raised one of its forelegs into the air, waving it towards him. \"I cannot open the dresser by myself, you are the only one who can help me now. I need you to focus.\"\n\nKevin took a step backwards.\n\n\"Please, young man, you mustn't leave! I cannot impart to you the gravity of the mistake you are about to make. If you'll just give me a few moments, I can tell you of the - \"\n\nKevin closed the door.\n\nThe muffled pleas of the llama continued as he walked dumbly to the next room. This had to be a new record. The worst and most bizarre night of his life. Nausea overwhelmed him. Please be the bathroom, please be the bathroom, please be the bathroom... He pushed open the third door.\n\n\"Kevin, thank God you're here!\"\n\n\"M-Mr. President?!\"\n\n\"That's right, Kevin, take a seat.\" The Secretary of Defense appeared from inside the room, grabbing Kevin by the arm and yanking him through the doorway. Weakly, he tried to resist, but everything was happening too fast. Hands clasped onto his shoulders and pushed him down into a chair at the head of a long table, populated by men in suits and military uniforms. The President continued.\n\n\"The situation is grave, Kevin, and we need your support.\" He gestured over to a large view-screen at the other side of the room, glowing with words and statistics that Kevin couldn't understand. At its center was a diagram of the Earth, and surrounding it, hundreds of flashing red dots were closing in fast.\n\n\"The aliens are about to mount their final attack, but there is no way we can proceed without your input. Do you think we should fire the positron laser?\"\n\n\"I... er...\"\n\n\"No, of course not, that would only serve to enrage them. What about the shield array? If we reroute power from New Orleans we might be able to get the defense grid powered up in time to deflect the attack.\"\n\n\"... I don't think...\"\n\n\"Goddamnit, you're right, that's a foolish idea. We're at a loss here, Kevin, and it's all down to you. We're counting on you, son.\"\n\nThe security council burst into uproar, arguing with each other back and forth. Bright lights and shouting voices assaulted his senses as the nausea rose to a peak in his stomach. How could he stop the aliens? America needed him. No, the world needed him. It was too much pressure. Too much...\n\nKevin threw up.\n\nThen passed out.\n\n***\n\nHe awoke the next day, head feeling as though it were filled with nails. Where was he? What the hell had happened last night? He sat up, groaning, taking in his surroundings. It was a bedroom, a girl's based on the decor. Cuddly toys lined the shelves on one wall, an ornate dresser sat against another. It would have been nice if it wasn't for the pile of stinking vomit on the carpet next to him, but he suspected that he had made that contribution personally.\n\nHis body screamed as he crawled to his feet. He could only remember snippets of the previous day as the memories swam around in his head. A party. Samantha hadn't showed up. No lucky breaks for Kevin this time. He'd stood around, drinking and listening to the music. Then he'd started taking hits of... he didn't even know what. Like an idiot, he'd been smoking random drugs the whole night. He was probably lucky to still be alive. \n\nBut at least that explained the blackout. And the vomit. And the soaking wet jeans.\n\nAnd on the bright side, at least he didn't need to piss any more." ]	1
	[WP] A normal dinner date. (With abnormal events occurring in parentheses.)	[ "\"So, you studied Physics?\"\n\"Yeah, it only took me five years.\" She laughs. \n\"I'm glad we came here, I heard the food is supposed to be amazing.\"\n\"Me too!\"\n(A server with entirely blue skin walks past their table)\n\"Where did you go to school?\"\n(The couple next to them starts pouring their glasses of water on top of their heads)\n\"Just one of the big public schools in state, too scared to leave I guess.\"\n\"Well, it is beautiful here.\"\n(A cameraman and crew comes out of the kitchen to quietly film patrons' conversations)\n\"What about you? You from here?\"\n\"Nah, moved here for school and just never left.\"\n(All the clocks in the restaurant have slowly started to melt)\n\"This wine is fantastic! A toast, to you.\"\n\"Aha, well thank you, kind sir.\"\nThey clink glasses. \n(A server approaches the table, with wheels for feet)\n\"Hello! I think I'll have the Penne Bolognese.\"\n\"The Eggplant Parmesan for me, thanks!\"\n(A tube emerges from the ground, the server puts the orders in the tube and it goes back into the ground)\n\"Have you ever heard of Insect Investigating?\n\"I haven't actually!\"\n\"It's like how kids collect bugs, but more competitive.\"\n(One of the plants in the restaurant bursts into flame)\nThe food arrives.\n\"Oh yum!\"\n\"This place does not disappoint!\"\n\"So, I'd love to know more about you!\"\n\"Oh! Well I spend most of my time in the lab but I love watching TV or cuddling with my cat.\"\n(Suddenly, the restaurant is completely empty besides their server)\n\"I've always wanted a pet but work keeps me pretty busy.\"\n\"Yeah, I feel that for sure.\"\n(The check is slowly lowered down on a wire from the ceiling)\n\"Don't worry, I got this\"\n\"I'm having a great time, thanks for inviting me.\"\n\"Of course, you're wonderful.\"\nThey finish their meal and sign the check. They exit the restaurant together.\n(The restaurant fades slowly from existence)\n", "\"Ah, Virginia, you look absolutely delicious tonight!\"\n\nShe blushed, and twirled slightly in her white dress. The hem flared around her, then settled to the floor like a milky puddle as she glided forward to the table. I stood up with a practiced grace (it was not my first feeding, after all), and reached for her chair to help her sit. The blush in her cheeks deepened as she sat comfortably at the table and reached for the already poured glass of wine to bury her face in. It glittered scarlet in front of her face.\n\nI motioned the waiter over (he rolled his eyes slightly when he saw her - he'd always found my appetite bemusing), and he gentle set two matte black menus down in front of us. \n\n\"For dinner, we have a delectable selection of pastas, meats, sandwiches, and salads, along with wine pairings if the lady wishes,\" he bowed slightly to Virginia at this, \"and dessert should your appetite still be unsatisfied.\" He bowed once more and slunk away to another table, where the murmour of conversation quieted as he took orders.\n\nI smiled charmingly at Virginia, who hesitantly smiled back. She seemed happy to be here, and I appreciated that she had taken the time to dress up (I much preferred a meal for both the eyes and the stomach). \"So, tell me a bit about yourself Virginia. I found your story about your job, at the bar the other night, utterly fascinating, and I'd love to hear more. I leaned forward and gazed eagerly at her. She blushed again (mmm, those blood suffused cheeks), and started talking.\n\nI was a gentleman; I payed attention. I nodded at the right times, and gasped when she finished recalling the feud she had won with a neighbor. When she asked me questions I always answered politely, but then turned them back to her (I didn't like lying, and after such a long life there were so many times I hated looking back on). A small salad was brought to her, which she inhaled hungrily. A bowl of pasta covered in scarlet tomato sauce quickly replaced her empty plate, and a carefully sliced piece of rare steak set in front of me (to whet my appetite). Throughout all this, I kept the conversation squarely at her, and breathed deeply of her scent (suffused with hormones that would add soooo much flavour) as I slowly finished my meal. \n\nBy dessert, I had just finished my first glass of wine, and she was already on her fourth. Virginia was on her fourth and chatting more subduedly now, her eyes holding mine intensely. She bit her lip lightly as she paused, and I bit mine in reflex (and winced as the sharp points of my teeth dug into the flesh), and smiled as seductively as I could. I had a lot of practice.\n\nI grasped her hand trailing on the table, and she clutched at mine in desperate romance. She took a deep breath (hopefully of all those pheromones I had been exuding - they took a lot of energy to produce), and leaned forward, eyes melting in hot passion.\n\nI matched her, and leaned into her body across the small table. Her eyes shuttered closed, and her mouth opened slightly. I paused for a moment, watching those lush red lips tremble in anticipation. Then I closed my mouth on hers. And sucked.\n\nHer eyes shot open in sudden pain and panic, but her mouth was locked to mine. I stood and carefully circled the table, face still pressed to hers and hands gripping hers tightly. She stood suddenly and toppled her chair backwards, and I caught her in my arms as if she was swooning (but I held her tightly lest she try again to wriggle free), and cupped her face with a hand while I held her tightly. Her face grew pale with panic, but none could see that. I saw a couple sigh in appreciation of young love out of the corner of my eye, and I smiled slightly against Virginia's lips.\n\nA rattled breath escaped her mouth into mine (which was impressive, considering the absolute torrent of blood that was also escaping her mouth into mine), and I felt her weaken against my body. She slumped down, and I quickly righted the chair with my foot and settled her in it. My mouth worked against hers soundlessly.\n\nI finally released her and she settled back into her chair, eyes closed and skin the color of snow. With her white dress, she could have been made of paper (except for a single droplet of blood coming from the corner of her mouth that I swiftly kissed away). The waiter, (seeing the corpse), spun over immediately and blocked her from the view of any watching customers. \n\n\"Is that all for the night, sir? The lady looks to have had perhaps one too many glasses of wine, if you don't mind me saying.\" He sniffed slightly, and took a small receipt for the meal (really, the appetizer) out of his pocket and handed it to me. I yawned loudly at the hour (the waiter yawned in response as well, sharp incisors peeking from behind his lips), and hoisted Virginia up. Positioning her as if she was drunk against my shoulder, I carefully walked out of the restaurant and into the rain. After walking for a few blocks, I left Virginia behind (stuffed inside a garbage can in the alley that I set alight with a click of my fingers), and whistling made my way to my favourite bar down the street to set up the next night's meal. Tonight's had gone swimmingly.\n" ]	2
	[WP] You father was a superhero. Your mother is a villain. She's not the bad one.	[ "It's interesting how things turn out, isn't it? One thing, mom and dad are warring in the skies of the city, next they're getting married in a church and consummating the same night. That's how I was born.\n\nYeah, I got some of their powers. Dad's frost breath and Mom's pyromancy was really a weird-ass combo. On the plus side, I could shoot water using them together.\n\nI'm not that old yet, so my powers are still manifesting. I hear they solidify by eighteen, so I still got a couple of good years.\n\nAssuming that I survive 'til then.\n\nMy home life's not too good, see. Yeah, really not good at all, all thanks to my Dad, the asshole. The Colonel, they called him, back when he was out saving the day, putting out fires and rescuing cats out of trees.\n\nMy mom... God, I love her so much. She puts up with so much shit from my angst and my dad's, well... Yeah.\n\nI've got so many bruises from him. Flung out the window, into walls, hell I got sent barreling through a couple different houses once. Each time, the stench of alcohol filled my nostrils, and each time, I would get back up. I was lucky as hell to get my dad's durability. Not his super-strength, though.\n\nEvery week, it happens again. Like a cycle. Every Monday, he drinks, every Monday, he gets pissed, every Monday, he tosses me like a ragdoll. And every Monday is when Mom stands up for me, burning the hell out of him until he can calm down. Sometimes they get into massive fights like the old times, fire and frost in the air, speed versus strength, durability versus insane reflexes.\n\nEvery Tuesday is when I stay at home. My mom, gently bandaging my cuts and my injuries, dabbing at the bruises with a towel. Occasionally, if it's a big cut, she'll cauterize it with her pyromancy, and she'll smile and tell me that I'm doing just fine.\n\nI can't help but hate the abusive ass, but at the same time, I can't help but hate my mom.\n\nI got curious one day as to why it was every Monday that he'd flip the hell out. I went to the library, started looking through historical newspapers and things like that. It took me a couple weeks, and a couple beatings, but I found it.\n\nIt was a couple years after I was born. Mom and Dad were living fine together. But something happened. Something that triggered the spark of evil in her.\n\nHe went out to fight her, or talk to her. But she wasn't her. Something in her broke that day, and she didn't put up with anything.\n\nThe biggest disaster in the city's history. A whole city block, leveled by a fireball. I read the news reports.\n\nThe day it happened, the Colonel was there the entire time. He was constantly flying and leaping back and forth, trying to find someone, save someone, tossing aside pieces of rubble.\n\nHe found nothing. All he could find was the scent of scorched human flesh, the charred remains of men, women, children. His biggest failure, his only failure, where thousands and thousands died under his watch.\n\nAnd my mother reveled in it. Reveled in his misery, reveled in the ruins, surrounded by unrecognizable corpses.\n\nI don't think she ever meant for me to find out. She hasn't been evil for such a long time, but maybe that's because of what happened.\n\nNow, on a Sunday night, I'll stay up. I'll listen. I'll listen to his sobs through the walls. His drinking. His regrets that he couldn't save a damn person.\n\nAll while my mother slept with a smirk on her face." ]	1
	[WP] We thought Mars was empty. When we arrived, we discovered it Was still populated - by whispering ghosts of the planet's former inhabitants.	[ "It was the beginning of my second week beneath the creaking dome on that hellish red planet. Budget cuts had reduced the amount of concrete available for constructing our Martian habitat. Every creak, pop, and hiss made by the dome sent me into a state of mind shattering terror. Fear is all I've known since I arrived, and this was before I started hearing the voices. " ]	1
	[WP] You can freeze time only if you're holding your breath. You were halfway across the busy intersection when you spotted it: A bullet, aimed at her chest, about to impact the windscreen.	[ "Sorry for changing it up boys but I liked the prompt\n\nJeremy was halfway across the street when he noticed the bullet. He hadn't even heard the shot yet. He held his breath to buy time. \nJeremy's ability to freeze time gave him an unusual attentiveness to his surroundings, although nothing this big had ever come across his path before. A bullet? For an assassination? This could be the first time that his power had actually done something important. \nWalking over to the bullet, still frozen mid-air, Jeremy made sure to continue holding his breath. He had forgotten about this before, with dire consequences. Sometimes he had become distracted and accidentally resumed time halfway through a sneaky slurpee heist or a quick porn session at work, with the volume on full. \nInspecting the alignment of the bullet, Jeremy could see that the intended victim was a fairly attractive woman on the sidewalk. Damn. She was the type of dime that he didn't see around as often as he'd like. \nHe contemplated swatting the bullet out of the air but instead opted for tackling the woman to the ground to save her life. Maybe she might just be grateful and give him her number? A kiss? Stupid but optimistic. \nMaybe he could get the bullet to graze his shoulder, just a bit. Then perhaps his role would seem more heroic, like a brave knight risking his life to save the damsel in distress. Yes. That's it. \nHe slowly pushed the woman to the side as he released the strain on his lungs, whinging as the bullet resumed its previous motion and scratched a shallow laceration into his bicep. ", "When I noticed the bullet, all I could do is stare, but I quickly realized I had to act fast. Holding my nose, I got out of my car and got on top of its hood. I grabbed the bullet, and placed it on the floor, sliding it in the other direction.\n\nI breathed in and out for a mere second, when I noticed that a car five cars in front of me had started to explode. I got in the car, took her hands of the wheel, and put her in the passenger seat. I moved over to the drivers seat, and started breathing again.\n\nThe cars in front of us kept moving forward, but I remained still. One by one, the cars in front of us exploded but luckily, ours didn't. Were it not for my ability to stop time, that bullet would have killed her, and my heart.", "We had a fight that morning. Something about—fuck, I don't know—something I said a while ago. It doesn't really matter anyway. Our second car was in the shop because of something wrong with the headlights, so I drove her up to her work. We had an argument in the car, which triggered my asthma.\n\nAs I felt the tightening in my throat, I tried to calm down. I took deep breaths, and held my breath.\n\nThat was when the world froze. I held my breath for a second or two; it was just enough to notice and then continue acting normal. It happens sometimes: the world just stops moving, stops continuing its daily pace just for me to get my breath back.\n\nI continued driving the car. She made some passive aggressive comment about how I should've said something else or done something to make whatever I said up to her, or some other bullshit request that I couldn't possibly fix.\n\nI still loved her, obviously. And she definitely loved me. We were just going through a rough patch. Not having a car can make people cranky.\n\nThat was when I noticed the bullet. We had just started going through the last intersection our drive—the busiest, actually—and I was going to drop her off in less than a minute. I had been getting more pent up and pent up until the asthma started and just\n\npoof There it was. A stray bullet, less than five feet away from her chest. My asthma froze everything. I couldn't do anything but watch her. I didn't know where this bullet came from. I didn't know who shot it. I just knew that there was nothing I could do.\n\nAnd as my asthma started getting better, time started progressing again.\n\nI wish our last moment had been one filled with happiness—but instead it was filled with her screams and the broken glass of the windshield.\n\nA car crashed into us and everything went black.", "The light turned red just seconds before I arrived at the intersection. Cars leapt from their starting positions, electric engines buzzing angrily as they surged down the road. \nI sighed heavily and checked my watch.\n\n\n\n15:15\n\n\n\nI still had 15 minutes and my destination in the Howard-Phillips Complex was another few minutes walk away. I’d be in the building on time, but what kind of impression does it make when you show up for an interview exactly on time? I promised myself, yet again, that I’d get a better grip on my time management skills. Heaving another sigh, I glanced around quickly to make sure no one was looking at me, and took a deep breath.\n\n\n\nTime stopped.\n\n\n\nDid you know that lightning strikes about 24,000 people per year globally, killing about 25% of those hit? It’s true, Google it. Five years ago, when I was a youth councilor at the Miskatonic Teen summer camp, lightning struck the lake where I was swimming. Luckily, it didn’t strike me directly. That unfortunate bastard would have been Jonas Underwood, an awkward 12 year old with a deep baritone voice. It probably would have been better if he had died right then, but he didn’t. He was Altered. That’s with a capital A. Several others in the water were also Altered, although not like Jonas. He received the full meta-human treatment - Scales, Gills, Claws, and Psychopathic Personality. \n\n\n\nHe lasted nearly a week after the incident, hiding in the depths of the lake. At night, he’d emerge to terrorize the surrounding area, rending helpless human flesh into tidy bite-sized pieces. The local authorities couldn’t stop him. When the National Guard stumbled upon his watery nest hidden in a marshy area, they lost a dozen good men that day. What ultimately stopped Jonas was simple physics. He was Altered into a monstrosity that needed salt water to survive. Miskatonic lake is freshwater, and Jonas was killed by osmosis. \n\n\n\nFour others were Altered in that incident at Miskatonic lake. Three vanished into the depths of the Meta-human Operations Project. One simply vanished. Everyone else was kept under surveillance for a year. I kept quiet about my ability to freeze time.\n\n\nI love the way sunlight shifts to a reddish-orange hue when I stop time. It always reminds me of an autumn sunset. The air around me becomes thick, like treacle. When I first stopped time I couldn’t move. I’d just sit there until my breath ran out, frozen like everything around me. It was fun to toss things into the air and freeze time, watching them hang impossibly in the air until my breath ran out and they clattered to the ground. I probably spent a year in-time before I discovered how to move - a stupid simple trick, actually. Just use my fingers to poke through the syrup-thick temporal cocoon that surrounded me. It feels like running a zip-knife through cling film. The stiff resistance, the puncture, then the satisfying sensation of slicing through layers of plastic with a sharpened blade.\n\n\nThat’s what I did now at the intersection, wriggling my hand just a bit, pushing through the resistance and then ziiiip - I’m free.\n\n\nReadjusting my backpack, I sauntered into the frozen traffic holding my breath and across the six lanes that separated me from my destination. As I crossed the median, the glint of an object in my path caught my eye. It took me a moment to figure out what it was - A bullet. I’d never seen one except in the movies. The destination was obvious, the chest of some woman riding in the front seat of the Maxi-cab. \n\n\nIn my imagination, I pictured how the incident would play out: The bullet would punch through the windscreen, making a small hole in front of the vintage Megadeth tee shirt she was wearing and add a very large, very messy, hole to her backside. The Maxi-cab would register the impact, run diagnostics, scan the interior, charge the passenger a clean-up fee for leaking blood on the upholstery, and continue to its destination.\n\n\nFollowing the path of the bullet, I tried to determine where it originated and see if I could locate the shooter. It was obvious from the angle of the bullet that the only logical place was the 25th floor crosswalk that connected the two sections of the Howard-Phillips Complex. I was running out of breath and had to make a decision quickly. \n\n\nI could keep going, mind my own damn business, make my interview on time and read about her in the news later.\n\n\nI could try to push or extract the bullet. That would be tricky. Physics works strangely when time is frozen. I can run on water, but I can still fall to my death if I punch through my temporal cocoon. I’d extracted small things before, things that were stationary or falling leaves, but never anything moving stupid fast like a bullet. I might just end up with missing fingers.\n\n\nOr…\n\n\nI pulled open the side pocket of my backpack and removed the stainless steel multi-tool I always carried with me. Flipping it open, I used the tip of the pliers to shatter the glass on the passenger window and then scoop-push the glittering fragments to hover in the air next to me. Climbing inside the shattered passenger window, I pulled out my laptop.\n\n\nBeOS, a company once nearly killed by Microsoft, had managed to rise like a phoenix from the ashes of death and become a blazing competitor, snatching just under half the PC market with a system built exclusively for gamers. In addition to a killer operating system and graphics, their laptops were made from state-of-the-art ultra lightweight and durable carbotanium fiber, which could stop a bullet. At least, that’s how they were advertised.\n\n\nAs I held my beloved laptop, my precious, in front of her chest I took a good look at the girl I was about to save. Seafoam green hair in a pixie cut, brilliant green eyes tinted with Optic Silver from her contacts, face slack as she stared into the HUD projected onto those thin neoplas discs. Slim fingers with green painted nails were pressed against her forearm, scrolling through some projected page only she could see. Vintage tee shirt. Ripped jeans. Chains. A really cute face. \nMy lungs began to burn as I stared at the face that was about to change my life.\n\n\nIt’s amazing what can occur in less than four minutes. \n\n\nI exhaled, and the world exploded into action.\n\n\n* * * * *\n\n\nEverything seems to move twice as fast when I exhale, like time wants to compensate for my theft. The windscreen shattered into a million fragments held together by sticky plastic as the bullet punched through. My laptop made a sickening crunch as the bullet impacted and shattered into a dozen shards, one ripping my cheek as it exited the window I had shattered moments before. The girl let out a muffled grunt as her chest was hit with the force of a thrown hardball.\n\n\nThe onboard computer dinged and a pleasant female voice announced “New Passenger Detected: Sam Carter. Adding to RideShare.”\n\n\nDing! “Passenger window breakage detected. Bill adjusted 185 creds.”\n\n\nDing! “Front window breakage detected. Bill adjusted 386 creds.”\n\n\nDing! “Debris detected in cabin. Please use the onboard hands-vac to tidy or your bill will be adjusted an additional 15 creds.”\n\n\n“Maxie,” I said, addressing the onboard system “Charge all fees to my account and take me home as fast as possible.”\n\n\nDing! “All charges will be billed to Sam Carter, account ending with 0616. Destination altered to Sam Carter’s House. Speed surcharge added. Is this correct?”\n\n\n“Yes.” I said. \n\n\nDing! “Is this correct, Jessica Howard-Phillips?”\n\n\nI stared into the panicked eyes of Jessica Howard-Phillips, grand-daughter of Thurston Howard-Phillips, the pioneer of non-euclidean fibration, founder of Miskatonic University and Howard-Phillips Enterprises. The blood drained from my face as the realization hit me - I had just saved the life of one of the most influential paranormal engineers on the planet.\n\n\nNo. Someone had just tried to kill one of the most influential paranormal engineers on the planet.\n\n“I…There was a bullet…You see? Glass? And my laptop? And…uh…” I said, my vocabulary failing as higher brain processes shut down in her presence.\n\n\nDing! “Is this correct, Jessica Howard-Phillips?”\n\n\n“Yes,” she said, pain evident in her voice. “Charge all fees to his account, cancel my destination.”\n\n\nDing! “Trip Updated. Rerouting to Sam Carter’s House, 112 Ocean Avenue, Arkam Massachusetts. Total trip fee: 711 creds”\n\n\nI died a little inside as the Maxi-cab cut across three lanes of traffic, other vehicles adjusting their speed to avoid it, and hung a quick right. That was nearly everything I had in the bank.\n\n\nJessica rubbed her bruised chest, distracting me as she poked and prodded. “I assume you have some sort of plan?” she said, then added “And you’re not just kidnapping me?”\n\n\nI blushed furiously and stammered, “No! I mean, my plan was to get us onto a route no one would expect and that was the only place I could think of.” \n\n\nShe stared at me with those piercing silvery-green eyes, fingers furiously rubbing her forearm. Probably messaging the police or bodyguards or something, I thought to myself.\n\n\n“I’m not kidnapping you, I swear.” I said, pleading with her to believe me.\n\n\n“I trust you, Sam.” Jessica said, her lips pulling into a tight smile. “I dreamed of you last night.”" ]	4
	[WP] In a world of superheroes and super villains, you are known and revered for being able to fulfil a role that no other being is capable of; Tech Support.	[ "\"Sorry, what was name again, sir?\" I enquire, holding the phone between my ear and my shoulder as I fumble for the lightswitch. It's 3AM and someone has just called my emergency support number.\n\n\"Doctor Destructo\" came the answer. He seemed a polite and well mannered chap who spoke the Queen's English.\n\n\"And what kind of death ray did you say it was?\" I ask. Sitting on the bed now, I grab a tablet PC and open Google.\n\n\"The Decimizer 5,000\" says the Doctor \"Oh, Holocaust Edition if that makes a difference\"\n\n\"That usually just means it comes with metallic paint\" I mumble. \"Okay! let's see now - Decimizer, Decimizer\" I read out loud as I browse the Decimizer web site. Decimizer 4,000 Decimizer 5,050. No 5,000.\n\nI click on the 5,050 - it seemed close enough.\n\n\"It's just that Batman will be here any minute and all my minions are on vacation\". \n\n\"No problem, sir - we will have you up and running again as soon as possible. What was the exact problem again?\"\n\nI'm not sure how long it will actually take. I don't want to upset the customer, but at the same time I'm not going to lie to them about the deliverability of a solution. If there is a faulty doom coil or something, then \"as soon as possible\" is around three weeks while a new one comes from China.\n\n\"It's not firing!\" comes the answer.\n\n\"Yes, okay - do you get any error indicatorS? Are any of the lights on the device on? \"\n\n\"No, it's completely dead! I can hear the batmobile, I think he's in the car park\"\n\nI continue the mental flowchart: \"Okay - have you tried the connection to the power brick? Is it pushed in all the way?\"\n\n\"Yes, I did all this before I called you. I'm not that stupid\" comes the reply. \"He's in the building, I can hear footsteps on the staircase\"\n\n\"And you've checked the cable to the wall socket?\"\n\n\"Yes, yes - of course, I - he's behind the door. Oh dear, I think he's burning the lock off\"\n\n\"Okay - calm down - okay, what else have we got here\" I flip through the Decimizer web site - diagrams, troubleshooting guides, help flowcharts which lead around in circles.\n\n\"Ah, have you turned the machine on at the emitter, and also the rocker switch by the base where the cable goes in?\"\n\n\"The emitter is on - wait, by the base? Hang on. .\" I hear a panicked fumbling, followed by the phone being dropped. A few seconds later I hear a door being kicked open followed by a loud electrical arcing sound accompanied by howling, screaming, gurgling sound and then a thud.\n\nThen the phone is picked up.\n\n\"Hello - are you still there?\" asked the Doctor.\n\n\"Yup, I'm still here!\" I reply.\n\n\"Why do they put two power switches on these things? It makes no sense! The one on the top says \"on\" how is anyone supposed to know there is another one?\"\n\n\"I know, I know\" I reply \"I only found it because I was looking at the schematic. They should at least label it better\"\n\n\"You know, I think I'll add a sticky label to it myself just in case someone else needs to use it.\" replies the Doctor.\n\n\"Good idea!\" I answer \"welp\"\n\n\"Yes, sorry - thanks for all your help today, will paypal be okay?\"\n\n\"Yeah, paypal's fine. £300 for the out of hours\"\n\n\"God bless you, sir\" says the doctor \"Well, you'd better get back to sleep so I'll let you go now. Night!\"\n\n\"You have a good evening, sir!\" I sign off.\n\nAs I drift off to sleep, I wonder if I should hire an assistant." ]	1
	[WP] Before you were captured by the SCP Foundation you were Bob Boberson, literally just an average guy with a kinda weird name. Now you are the leader of the largest prison break the Foundation has ever known.	[ "A Jack of All Trade is a master of none, but often times better than a master of one.\n\nItem #: SCP - 111117\n\nObject Class: Keter\n\nSpecial Containment Procedures: \n\nSCP - 111117 is to be kept in a Standard Humanoid Containment Cell (Type-M) modified to account for the anomalous properties of SCP - 111117. SCP - 111117’s containment cell is to utilize 7 active Scranton Reality Anchors with overlapping areas of effect. Site [Redacted] personnel are not to made aware of the nature of SCP - 111117 anomalous abilities. Any Foundation personnel aware of SCP - 111117’s anomalous abilities must never be located within a 10km radius of Site ███████ . The Foundation Robotics Branch is currently attempting to reconstruct the anomalous implants utilized by the Church of the Broken God that prevented the activation of SCP - 111117’s primary anomalous ability. \n\nIn the event of a containment breach, all on-site personnel are to be evacuated from the premise and on-site nuclear warhead is to be detonated. \n\n\nDescription:\n\nSCP - 111117 is a Class IV Humanoid Entity that appears to be a middle-aged man of indeterminate race. SCP - 111117 goes by the name Bob ███████ and is currently held in Foundation Site [Redacted] after being relocated from Site 19 following Incident 111117- A , which resulted in multiple Keter and Euclid level containment breaches. \n\nSCP - 111117 has the anomalous ability to be of standard proficiency in any skill. SCP - 111117 can gain standard proficiency in any skill/craft/ability/trait when in the 10-km radial proximity of an individual (now referred to as SCP - 111117 - 1) with knowledge of SCP - 111117’s anomalous abilities. If an SCP - 111117 - 1 instance images that SCP - 111117 possess an anomalous or non-anomalous skill/craft/ability/trait, then SCP - 111117 will instantly obtain a level of standard proficiency in that skill. Scranton Reality Anchors have been proven effective in nullifying previously gained skills, but research predicts that they are ineffective in nullifying abilities gained in the presence of Scranton Reality Anchors. On account of his previous captors, SCP - 111117 possess a modest desire to escape the Foundation and locate anomalous objects relating to the Church of the Broken God. \n\n\n\n\n\n\nDiscovery: \n\nSCP - 111117 was recovered from a Church of The Broken God Sect located in ███████, ███████ by MTF - Stigma 9. The COTBG sect had imbued the subject with a standard proficiency in locating anomalous artefacts with a relationship to the chief deity of the Church and a modest desire to actively seek out the aforementioned artefacts. COTBG officials with knowledge of SCP - 111117’s anomalous properties had embedded themselves with neurological augmentations to prevent them from providing the subject with any additional anomalous traits. \n\n\n\n\n\n\nIncident Report 111117 - A \n\nSCP Involved: SCP - 111117\n\nLocation: Site 19\n\nDescription: The following is a description of security camera footage salvaged from Site 19 on the morning of ██ ███████, 20██. \n\n\n8:01:01 am: Dr. ████ and Researcher █████ become aware of SCP - 111117’s anomalous properties while cataloguing records obtained from the Church of the Broken God. Activates the generation of new abilities within SCP - 111117’s.\n\nNote: It is believed that SCP - 111117 possessed no augmentations typical to COTBG members at the time of its’ recovery. False information was mostly implanted into COTBG records in order to cause a containment breach. \n\n8:03:01 am: SCP - 111117’s becomes aware of its’ new abilities and breaches containment. Subject shows modest levels of reality-bending ability ranging from 1.3-1.5 Humes. \n\n8:10:01 am: Subject is engaging by MTF - ███████. Subject display the anomalous ability to dodge a portion of the high-speed fired that them and the anomalous ability of rapid regeneration. \n\nNote: Upon being removed from Site - 19, there was a significant decrease in the regenerative capabilities of the subject. It has been hypothesized that the greater regeneration displayed during Incident Report 111117 - A is due to the mean of regenerative ability at Site - 19 being inflated by the regenerative abilities of other SCP objects. \n\n8:11:02 am: The entirety of MTF - ███████ are terminated by lightning-like energy projected from the palm of the subject. Clockwork can be seen sprouting through the cadavers of MTF - ███████.\n\n\nNearby security cameras cease to function on account of the electrical interference produced by the subject. \n\n \n8:50:05 am: Subject is seen approaching the containment unit of SCP-173. Subject punches through doors of SCP - 173’s container. \n\n8:51:05 am: Subject begins to shout random words in an incomprehensible tongue. Subject leaves the containment unit. When SCP-173 leaves the subject’s line of eyesight, it ignores the subject and ██████████████ through the vents. \n\n9:01:05 am: Half of containment units are compromised. The subject is not in sight. \n\n9:20:10 am: SCP - 106’s is seen in the same room as the subject. Both SCPS are conversing in an incomprehensible tongue. Research █████████ runs into the room and is promptly dragged in SCP-106’s pocket dimension. Subject displays the ability to teleport short distances. \n\n\n9:50:10 am: The bodies of ███ % of personnel terminated by SCP - 111117 are restricted to anomalous beings similar to SCP - 217 instances. \n\n10:05:10 am: Subject is seen approaching the containment unit of SCP-682. Utilizes an unknown form of █████████ to dismantle portion of the security measures. \n\n10:06:10 am: Subject is running away from containment unit of SCP-682 at rapid speeds. \n\n10:07:00 am: SCP-682 breaches containment. \n\n10:50:10 am: MTF Forces located in the east wing of Site-19 are attacked by large clockwork humanoids presumed to be slightly modified versions of SCP - ███\n\n11:11:17 am: Subject is seen leading a mob of ███████ clockwork humanoids towards the remains of SCP-001. \n\n11:20:20 am: Subject is ambushed by MTF - Tau 5. Tau 5 succeeds in temporarily neutralizing SCP - 111117 after the loss of 3 units. \n\n\n\nLong time lurker on the SCP wiki. Criticism appreciated. \n" ]	1
	[WP] This is it. My wild manhunt across this piece of shit country was over. I have, at last, found the assassin that killed my partner. He suggested a compromise, and you know what? I just might take it.	[ "I’m running on three hours of sleep, a pot of black coffee, and an upper I picked up from an old acquaintance of mine. My skin feels like fire, the hairs on my arms are standing on end. Six months of work, five counties, four dead assets, three bullet wounds, two shoot outs, and a partridge in a fucking pear tree. But you know what? I did it. I actually did it. Staring up at the run down hotel in the middle of Bangkok I’m realizing he may not be in...no. He has to be. Even if he isn’t I just have to wait for him. I won’t forget his face. It’s impossible. It’s forever etched into my memory right next to the sight of my partner dying in the dirt. His body torn in two all because he had to open the trunk. He had to be the first guy every god-damn time. He wouldn’t listen to me! \n\nMy pulse is crazy. My eyes feel so heavy but I’m so alert. Every person that passes by the windshield of the car have no faces. I’m looking for one person. Just the one. What if he’s up there? Am I just waiting? Shit what if he isn’t though. If I go in first he’ll know. I’m wasting time. It’s so hot and it’s not just the weather. I have to move. This is the time. It’s right now. \n\nI breezed passed the front desk. I said a quick greeting and started down a hallway and towards a set of stairs. I know the room. It took me damn near every cent I had on this trip but I know my info is good. It has to be. If it’s not some fisherman are going to find some poor bastard in their net tomorrow. I’m nearing the fourth floor. He’s there in his room. I can feel it. He has to be. My heart is going so fast it’s near deafening. Was it the stairs or the pills? Didn’t matter now. Here we are. \n\nI considered being subtle. In fact that’s probably a better option. But before I could stop myself I found my foot crashing through the door. I stepped into the dingy motel room. The first thing I see is me. Me wearing a dark blue suit sitting in a chair. Not in a mirror. If it had been a mirror then I’d be looking at what I saw this morning. Blood shot eyes and baggy eye lids, disheveled hair and clothes, patchy unkempt facial hair. But right now I’m starring at a very clean cut me. My eyes don’t look tired and broken, my hair is neatly quaffed and my face clean shaven. My sharp cheek bones, my crooked nose, my eyes and my lips, all present clean and accounted for. \n\n“Wha-what the fuck is this?”\n\nThe other me tapped his fingers on his knee. A small smile creeped across his face. \n\n“I still feel a little tender when I smile, so I’ve been avoiding it. But right now looking at your expression I just can’t help it.”\n\n“I don’t...I don’t understand how...”\n\n“You chased me for quite some time. It was fun but somewhere between you slitting my body guards throat and catching a bullet in my shoulder I decided our cat and mouse game should come to a close. To that end I decided this should be our climax.”\n\nI stood silent. I can’t process what’s happening. \n\n“It took months to find the right doctor. Someone with enough skill and discretion to do the task. Five million up front, 5 million after the bandages came off. Some much time spent recovering. But the end result, well you can see for yourself. That doctor did a damn good job. Was a shame he had to die how he did.”\n\nHis fingers drummed on his lap for a moment then he motioned towards the door. I turned sharply and was met by a small Thai woman. She was saying something to me. Problematic since my Thai was not very good and I couldn’t hear her that well. The inside of my head was like a beehive. The other me began to say something in Thai. The two of them were having a conversation. For a moment the old woman stopped and looked at us. She made a sign as though she were astounded and thought us to be twins perhaps? This made me feel even more ill. They continued to talk as he ushered her out of the room and he closed the door behind him. \n\n“I told her you’re my very excitable twin brother. She said we’re quite handsome but that’s no excuse for kicking in doors. Don’t worry too much though. This place is horrendous. It would surprise me if every door here hasn’t had a police boot through it.”\n\n“What is this?”\n\n“Straight to the point. Understandable. You want me dead, that’s clear. You’re a pain in my ass, also quite clear. This is me meeting you half-way.”\n\n“You want to...negotiate? You took my fucking face and you want to negotiate terms?” \n\nThe other me had made his way back to the chair he had been in before the manager came in. He sat forward and leaned his elbows on his knees. His chin rested on his clasped hands. \n\n“As of right now what do you have waiting for you back home?”\n\nNothing. He knew I had nothing back home. After she died I more or less went AWOL while still operating as an intelligence agent. I used ‘company’ resources to investigate and follow this man. When the higher ups caught word I was unceremoniously fired and burned. With her dead I had no one to come home to. No one to go home with. \n\n“You took everything from me. I didn’t think you could take anymore but then-“\n\nI motioned to him. Down to the last detail I was staring at myself. Granted he looked a lot better than I do right now. \n\n“That’s why I have a proposal. You’ve chased me to the ends of the earth. You’ve cornered me much sooner than anticipated. For that I applaud you. Now comes the dreaded choice. You could kill me here and now. It would be a struggle no doubt. Surely the owner would call someone. She came up to check on a door that got opened a little to hard.” \n\n“So you could kill me right now and risk being arrested, tried and killed,” he continued, “or we could play a game to decide who walks away.” \n\n“I’m listening.” \n\nConclusion posted tomorrow \n", "It was hard tracking him across the 7 nations of the world. One day he would kill someone in Los Angeles, a day later he would kill someone in Beijing. The only way I could trace him was through the police reports, almost the same MO every time. Nothing broken or stolen. Victim was murdered by a single bullet through the cranium, type and make of gun were unknown.\n\nAt the start I tried to piece together the link between his different targets, but I was coming up empty handed. A business man here, a scientist there, a sociology expert somewhere else. His timing made no sense either. He would kill 3 people in one day in the same location, then nothing for months. He would murder someone each night for a week and vanish without a trace.\n\nThis fateful night I knew I had him. He had made a mistake he hadn't made before, and failed to kill one of his targets. After so many deaths, I don't understand why a simple janitor had bested him. My only chance was hoping that I could catch him in his second attempt. I waited hidden in the stairwell outside the janitors apartment.\n\nThe night was quiet. I peered from the darkness at the people that walked by, but none of them approached door I was spying. The night drew on, and as I was catching myself drifting off, a shiver up my spine jolted me awake again. Something was wrong. I listened carefully for footsteps on the staircase, but there was only silence. A slight glance at the door made me jump, purple light was glowing from within the janitor's apartment.\n\nI sprung to action and crashed bodily through the fragile door. Standing over the unmoving body of the Janitor was the man I was after. His entire body covered in a silver body suit, the only part was the pitch black visor that covered his eyes. Behind him a purple rimmed hole floated revealing a laboratory beyond. The oddity drew my attention, but as I tried to get a better look, the silver clad man moved to block me.\n\n\"You don't need to see that, Michael,\" he said, with a grim tone in his voice. \n\nI pointed my gun at him, memories of my wife, Jane, flooding into my mind. The most vivid, hear lying in a pool of her own blood in the kitchen, already cold and hard, unable to do anything about it.\n\n\"WHY DID YOU DO IT?!\" I screamed at him. My fury rising, barely in check.\n\n\"I had to!\"\n\n\"NO, FUCK YOU. YOU DON'T GET TO SAY THAT. SHE NEVER HURT ANYONE!\" My voice echoing against the painted walls.\n\n\"It's not what she did, it's what she will do.\"\n\nI was confused. \"You .. can't do that.\" I blurted out, my anger still strong but the intensity in my voice had gone.\"\n\n\"It's not what I can't do, it's what I MUST do Michael,\" he replied coldly.\n\n\"You can't do this. You just CAN'T\" My confusion had taken over my anger. Tears came to my eyes. I had nothing left to lose. My fingers squeezed the trigger, almost of their own accord.\n\nThe bullet travelled directly towards the silver suited man's chest. I could hear my heart beat as my personal destiny was about to be fulfilled. The time drew out, longer than I had expected. It felt like an entire second had passed, and then two.\n\nHe casually stepped out of the path of the bullet. Time regained it's momentum and the bullet lept forward into the wall behind. I screamed! Whatever power protected him was beyond my ability to break. He stood there, unaffected.\n\n\"Hey, it doesn't have to end this way,\" he said softly to me.\n\nTears in my eyes, I didn't want to listen.\n\n\"I can give you a chance, a way to be with her, for 23 years,\" he said, his voice still filled with pity.\n\nI couldn't tell if he was mocking me. Four years ago she had died at the age of 23. The memory broke me as my rage left. I fell to my knees.\n\n\"What have you got left to lose? I've taken everything from you, Michael, but I promise to give it all back.\"\n\nI tried hard to ignore him.\n\n\"I would say trust me, but I know that won't happen. So I'll just ask again, what do you have to lose?\"\n\nSomething in me broke, I gave in. He helped me to my feet and activated a device. The purple-edged hole switched from a laboratory to a park. In the distance I could see her, as pretty as the day I met her. My heart almost lept from my chest at the thought of my one wish coming true. Even if this hole lead to death, I would gladly take it. I stepped through, and the hole closed behind me.\n\nI approached my wife-to-be and as my eyes adjusted to the brightness of the day, I realised it wasn't her. The same hair, and the same posture, but this woman's eyes were a deep blue, where as my wife's were a light hazel, like my own. They could have been sisters they looked so much alive. But I realised at the point, the silver-suited man had lied.\n\n\"Excuse me?\" she asked. \"Do I know you?\"\n\nI didn't realise in my reverie that I was staring at her. \"Umm, no sorry. I thought you were someone else.\"\n\n\"No, no. I swear I've seen you before, in class.\"\n\nI didn't know what she was talking about, but there she was looking right at me. Close enough to my wife that my heart skipped a beat when I looked at her. Maybe he hadn't lied after all.\n\n\"Maybe. I'm .... Liam,\" I said, making up a new name on the spot.\n\n\"I'm Wendy.\" Her name caught my breath for a moment.\n\n\"How about we grab some lunch and you can tell me all about this class I'm in.\"\n\n---\n\nThere are many times a man is shocked by events in his life.\n\nThe first of mine was seeing a newspaper, and seeing the date was 30 years before my own. The silver-suited man, the portal, the various killings all over the world. It all made more sense. But I still did not know why. My apartment was absent, not having been built yet, but I did find I already existed in this time somehow. When the previous version of myself never turned up, I fell into the hole as if I belonged.\n\nThe second was after marrying my beautiful wife, Wendy. I would never forget my old life and my old wife, but this new life was here and now and I wasn't going to miss it. Everything was perfect, even more so when we had our first child. As I cradled the baby in my arms, eyes of light hazel peering back into my own, I had finally found the happiness that I lost, in another life. \"What should we call her?\" asked Wendy. \"How about Jane?\" I asked, honouring my old-wife. \"It's perfect,\" she replied.\n\nThe third was meeting myself. My daughter had a new boyfriend, his name was Michael. As the years went by, and my daughter was looking more like Wendy, I hadn't notice that she was also looking like my ex wife. I rang the door bell, which made me come downstairs. I opened the door, and greeted myself with only slight hesitation. I was much older, and time had worn my face, but I could still remember looking like the person that stood in front of me. I shook hands with myself. I waved goodbye to my daughter and she left to go on a date with me. Finally it all made sense, but I felt sick. I understood where I was, but I could not understand why.\n\nThe fourth and final shock was the next day. Alone in my house as Wendy had gone shopping. I know this day well, because it's the day that Jane's dad had gone missing. A funeral in 7 days with an empty casket. He was never found. A purple flash came from the kitchen, and I rushed in, gun drawn. The man was not here, only a package on the table. I dreaded what I would find, but a small voice in the back of my head told me I already knew.\n\nI carefully unwrapped the package on the table. Inside was a silver suit with a black visor, a control device, and a note:\n\nDear Michael,\n\nI hope this note clears up any confusion. I know your life, our life, must have been rough, but there have been some very good moments. From great sorrow comes great happiness and all of that. All I know is that his must happen the way it happened, otherwise the timelines collapse into chaos. Everyone I have killed was instrumental in discovering time travel. Yes, discovering, not inventing. It has always existed, but they found a way to harness it. After you carry out these assassinations, the timelines will revert to normal. When the time comes, you must give the suit to yourself, along with this note and the list.\n\nFrom Michael.\n\nI don the suit, activate the first space-time coordinates. Through the purple hole, I see my old apartment. I know that on the other side of the kitchen door is Jane.\n\nThis is the way it has to be." ]	2
Just go wild with this one, I guess. I can’t come up with a better title.	[WP] When a person reincarnates, they grow more resistant to whatever killed them in their previous lives.	[ "I stepped out of the subway into the gloomy night, the Enochian glyphs on my arm pulling me forward towards my duty. I considered the demons my responsibility - likely as not, my once-husband Antony and I had been their gateway here. Centuries ago, when my name had been Catherine, Antony had introduced me to John Dee and William Butler and their Angelic visions and I had truly believed. As Antony's own sessions went on and I began to be a larger and larger part of his work, I had absolute faith that we were acting on the orders of angels. When I l finally learned of the demons and how we’d brought them with us, that faith was shattered. \n\nThe tracking spell brought me inside of a carpark. There were minimal cars in the wee hours of Tuesday morning and I hoped for the best if it came to a fight. I was getting hard to kill, but a passerby wasn’t likely to be as hardy. I felt the urge to shudder when I thought of the lives lost over the years. Too often, they had been my fault. I had been careless, or ignorant, or too foolish to tell the difference between friend or foe. With a shake of my head, I returned to the car park. Ideally the demon would be relatively fresh and I could deal with things quietly. \n\nI saw it staring down at its reflection in a shiny, red mazda. It looked like a fairly pretty woman. She was young, blonde, and shapely - only I could see that the edges of her silhouette were blurred and dark, or that her eyes were fully black. Her hands were hidden by the car and I hoped there would be no unpleasant surprises there. The place was too public for a gun so I started down the row of cars towards her, my eyes fixed on a black SUV a dozen stalls down from the mazda. I hugged my arms in tight, pretending to be cold while fingering the glyph-ridden hilt of my hunting knife. A half step past the woman I turned and lunged. The knife arced towards her, ready to plunge through her golden hair and into her back, only to be knocked back at the last second by a clawed hand. Faster than I could dodge, her other hand dug into my left arm and left a sizeable slash. Not a fresh demon, then. I’d bled to death before so I wasn’t in danger of doing so again - the reincarnation spell conferred resistance to the cause of death - but the pain still radiated through my body unpleasantly. Damn. I kicked out at her and she staggered back before lashing out again and connecting with my temple. She’d thrown her body weight into the punch and I was knocked to the side a few feet, my head slamming harshly into a concrete pillar. \n\nSorry lady, but traumatic brain injuries haven’t done a thing to me since the early 1800s. \n\nThe demon turned toward the exit and started sprinting towards the exit. I didn’t bother following, but instead reached into my jacket again. Another knife, this one far more streamlined and carefully \nweighted, glinted in my hand for an instant before I sent it flying into her shoulder blade. It didn’t hit anything vital, but it didn’t have to - the spells etched on the hilt were deadly enough. The blur surrounding the pseudo-woman started to cover more and more of her - her features smeared and darkened as she dropped to the ground writhing. I kept my distance as her image grew more and more indistinct, eventually disappearing altogether. \n\nI pulled a handkerchief from my fanny pack - What? It was useful - and wiped up the blood on my arm as best as I could. It had clotted by now, but I would still clean it up as best as I could once I got home. I was willing to bet there were still plenty of ways to die by infection that I had yet to experience. Tying the kerchief around my arm, I picked up my knives and started back towards the subway. \n \n \n \n\n\n\n\n \nFinally de-gored, bandaged, and fed, I sat down among my journals and books. I had communicated with the angels only once in this lifetime. Now that I was not so careless as I had once been, it took me weeks to draw out the necessary spells and check and double check them. I would do anything in my power to avoid taking orders from demons again. When Antony and I had used Butler and Dee’s texts to try to communicate with angels, we had thought the language and spirits to be purely angelic - now I knew differently. Although Butler and Dee may have spoken with Angels, I don’t believe Antony and I ever did when we were together. The things we made contact with cared only that we learn the reincarnation spell and use it. The only reason I continued to believe in angels was the wisdom Dee and Butler had obtained - this was where I had found the spells that I now used to kill the demons, as well as others to track and see them. \n\nIn a few days, I would start preparations to speak with the angels again. Hopefully they could give me information to translate more of the gates of wisdom. Or even more, perhaps. Every time I reached out, I fervently hoped that they would start speaking English and tell me exactly what's going on and what to expect. Unfortunately, it doesn’t seem to work like that. For now, I’d committed to translating the work Dee and Butler had left behind. I often reassured myself that although the going was slow, I knew far more than I had when I’d died the first time. I knew that there were creatures in another realm that could be good or bad, and that they were using the wisdom they had communicated to me and my use of it to enter my world. I knew at least some of them did evil and caused mischief once they got here. But I also knew that the wisdom I had collected gave me resistance to death and tools to fight them. Whether I was killing them or simply sending them back to their own world I didn’t know. Until I could find out more, I would minimize their harm here - it seemed the least I could do after all the trouble I’d brought about.", "I need to go, I need to hurry up. The queen needs more nutrition! We don't have much time, summer won't last long, I need to hurry up!\n\nTerry took the route on the left, it is clear then, I should go that way too. I got quite the haul, a pure sweet crystal of brown. It is heavy, but I can carry it. If onl-\n\nHey, who took it from me? I need that, so whe di- Oh god, it is bigger than anything I have seen before. The things living here, they usually are not this big, and usually are not that menacingly. Wait, it is still looking at me- Why am I still here? I need to get something for the queen, if I turn around I co-\n\nOh god, that was close! This thing almost crushed me! I need to get out ASAP. Forget the nutrition, I need to get to safety- Under there! He can't possibly hit me, he is too big to get there, isn't he? So, I need to think where I go now. He might get bored, or try something. I need to get away somewhere. Perhaps the wall is...\n\nOh, crap. The being moved the cover I had. But it is so resilient, how did it move the protection I had? Is it that strong? Wait, I should get out be-\n\nIt is too late. It's foot is coarsing towards me, with speed I could not hope to match. I won't get out, this is the end for me. Farewell, hive... I hope you can make it without me...\n\n...\n\n...No. I can hold it! I can hold it off, keep it locked in this standoff! Somehow, in some way, I feel as if I could lift the world! Yes, I can survive if I jus-\n\nAndrey comes in. Oh fuck, why is Andrey here? If he is here, I can't leave this giant alone, he'll go for Andrey next.\n\n\"Andrey! Get out!\" I yell.\n\nAndrey looks in disbelief. \"You can lift the human? Ho-\"\n\n\"Get out!\" I cry with all my might I have. Thankfully, Andrey turns around and leaves where he came from. I take my attention to the human, as Andrey called it. He looks at me in disbelief, trying frantically to grasp a can on the table.\n\nHe'll try to crush not only me once I let go. He'll try to get the others, Andrey, Jacob, Terry, even our queen! I can't let that happen, not if I have a say in it. And taking my situation, there is a way I can prevent it.\n\nI turn my attention to the human. \"Giand of Humanity, today you have met your match! If I can't prevent you from harming my friends, I will have to take you out with all I got! Any last words?\"\n\nHe didn't even regard what I said, blabbing something incoherently as he frantically flails around. But it is too late, both for him, and for me.\n\nI put in all my might, and throw him. I use my left energy to overpower him, and I feel something clearly wrong in my arm. Yep, it must have snapped, no matter! I managed to throw him off balance, and the disaster dominoes begins.\n\nYes, the giant trips to the side, and collides with the table he tried to reach so clearly. His head sports some red liquid, and his neck twists wrongly. Finally, shaking the ground as he does so, he impacts besides me. His eyes are open, but unresponsive, unacting. I did it... I saved them.\n\nOh well, I feel tired. I should... maybe take a rest... go to sleep. They are safe, they can get me later...\n\n**\n\nSomewhere in New Hampshire, a child has it's first thought. \"I hate ants!\"", "Death has been searching for you. He has sent all of his most powerful minions after you. He knows you are getting too strong for him; and that soon enough, he will not be able to take your soul again. \n\nThe longer you live, the stronger your soul becomes. The stronger your soul is, the easier it is to escape Death’s abode and to reenter the world of the living. You see, you have to fight to be reincarnated. It is not easy to defeat Death, much less any of his minions, but you have found a way to cheat Death, to live such a long time, and die in such a specific way, that Death cannot beat you. \n\nIt is not often that Death lets his minions roam free, but he knows that this is important. He knows that he must get to you and kill you in any way he can and as soon as possible. It does not matter which way, as long as you die his way. \nThis is not the first time that you have chosen to die this way. The first time was a complete accident–mere luck. Death has been killing people in strange and interesting ways, that your type of death had not been seen in millennia. That’s all it was: plain, dumb luck. But once you died, you realized how much easier an old soul could escape Death’s domain. \n\nYou hear them. Death’s minions. You know it is time to die. Slowly you let go of your life. You feel your organs start to shut down, one by one. You lived almost 200 years longer than your last full life. You are one of the few that know that dying of natural causes makes you so much harder to kill, but more importantly, makes it so much easier to escape Death. ", "Everyone starts out with a blank slate. As vulnerable as a newborn babe to whatever so decides to take a strike at them. The one's that seem to die from the most mundane things, like tripping and cracking their head open, rather than just skinning a knee; like getting the flu, and having their entire immune system shut down. They seem to be the unluckiest, but in truth, they are no more unlucky than the rest of us.\n\nSome have been around a while, experienced death enough times to be able to survive a fall, or pull through from a potentially lethal snake bite; or go a round or two with cancer and come out with a cough. Those of whom some might call lucky, or maybe just survivors; those which have simply beaten the system with unknown experience.\n\nIn the end though, there is something we can never get used to. Those of us that have been here the longest, have died enough times, suffered enough so that the will to survive is imprinted on their very souls. They are the ones who Death can't touch with outside influences; they are the ones who pass away peacefully in their sleep after all they have unknowingly suffered. The ones who people don't look at much, for simply living and dying peacefully; called boring, when they have experienced and suffered more than all of us. \n\nEveryone starts out with a blank slate, and nobody seems to appreciate experience.", "Have you ever wondered why your friend can touch a pan on the hot stove, stay underwater for a lot longer than you would think is possible, or take a beating in a fight and be fine the next day? Well, to keep it simple, they've adapted to it. Not in the sense that they've experienced it in their current form and have conditioned themselves to be more resilient. No, they've straight up died in a past life or two because of either drowning, dying in a fire or been beaten to death. And that very act has made them less susceptible to it.\n\nMost people might not actively encounter the thing that ended one of their previous lives, certain diseases or poisons are a bit obscure, or aren't that noticeable. Now, my resilience modulus are weird, I must have been extremely unlucky, or been reincarnated so often that I may have experienced more than most, but that's not necessarily a bad thing.\nI could share many accidents in my life where most people who aren't resilient would have easily died or been severely injured, but I've walked away with very minor injuries. For example, the time I was 7, and I got hit by a car while crossing the road on my way home from school. I remember the blinding agony and harrowing sounds of my body being contorted and rattled by the car. After the onlookers came around to cradle the possible dying child in their arms, I groaned and stood back up like I had just fallen over, just a scraped knee and bruised shoulder. \nWhen my parents found out, they were equal parts relieved and horrified.\n\nThere was an endless sea of \"you're so lucky that's your resilience\" and \"you could have easily been injured\" with a few bursts of crying for good measure. It didn't really sink in how lucky I was, but then a trend started happening, at age 9 two friends and I went swimming in a river and I got caught in some rapids, they thought I would have drowned. But turns out I had a second resilience. Two or three resiliences wasn't too uncommon, but mine didn't stop there. Age 15, I would have been beaten within an inch of my life by a group of kids at my school. Long story short, I pissed off the wrong people by going out with one of their ex's and they were out for blood. They reasoned it to be \"giving me something else to be resilient about\", but they couldn't seem to let it take before some bystanders shooed them away.\n\nThen, age 22, while I was making my way home from a bar, I was walking home. Despite it not being the best area to be in, I felt fairly safe, given the fact I had 3 kind of useful resiliences. That was until some down on his luck guy approached me, asking for my wallet with a knife in hand. My only plan was to get the knife away and hope he'd try beat me to death first. But that was short lived when he slashed at me and I raised my arms to minimise the damage to my more important areas. The wounds sprung up and jolted pain through me, but that was it, nothing else. \n\"You're resilient to getting stabbed? Man, fuck this.\" The mugger said in disdain.\nGreat, another resilience to add to the list, I thought.\n\nNow, here I was at age 89, with most resiliences checked off, stabbing, bludgeoning/blunt force trauma, drowning, fire, falling, electrocution, anything cardiovascular, cyanide, snake venom, starvation, dehydration, and basically everything under the sun. But anything else not life threatening still weaved its way into my now withering frame. I was known for my many resiliences, but emotional resilience, was not there. After my wife of 40 years died almost a decade ago I felt broken and like everything had no meaning. I felt, for all intensive purposes, dead inside. The past 8 years had been excruciating, I was running out of things I wasn't resilient to.\n \nI shook as I slide open the drawer to my bedside cabinet. Inside lay an object that was gathering dust, I slide the magazine into it, as well as I could with my swollen and arthritic hands. This is it, one of the last things I hadn't tried yet. It would make it harder for my next life, but maybe emotional resilience would also be added to the list as well. That would be more useful than any others I had accumulated in my life.", "Most people would think being able to come back to life would be great, and hey with the package I got I'm immune to what killed me but those people are wrong. My existence is not all that great I mean sure back when I was really young it was fun I basically ruled my tribe.\n\nOh but the stone age had to end and then people got suspicious of what I was, either I was an evil spirit or a demon or worse when they thought I was an angel. I was hunted, beaten and ostracized by most people and then was begged for help by the others. I mean sure after a few years no one could find a way to kill me but I was still a man so they tricked me and I ended up trapped stuck under the boulders to heavy for me to move.\n\nThen I was found by what you would call archeologists I thought I was saved ready to regain my rule but the world has been so changed. Most people don't hunt for your food and you have an invisible force that gives you information it's very jarring. I wasn't even allowed to explore the world I was taken to a lab for \"studying\" but now that I'm free and your scientists has made me immune to so much I feel I need to regain my crown and my reputation as a demon", "How many times must one die to become a god?\n\nI don't know. But after 44 deaths, I've become too hard to stop by anyone you'd call normal.\n\nAnd there's an awful lot of normal in this world.\n\nAll the typical ways to kill a man don't even slow me down anymore.\n\nI've been shot many times, many calibers and gauges and poundages. Yes, that includes cannonballs.\n\n44 lives is a long time. Even if some were only into their 20's.\n\nDisease is a distant memory for me.\n\nPoison too.\n\nDrowning? Nah. Three lifetimes ago I just waited until I sank to the bottom and trudged to shore. That was hell in itself, the way my lungs burned and my body ached.\n\nElectrocution was a more novel one.\n\nConflagration, was my first. Talk about an old flame, eh?\n\nOld age got me last time.\n\nStabbed, smothered, choked, dismembered, defenestrated...\n\nAll done.\n\nAnd a few more novel ways.\n\nI realized as I got tougher to kill, how great a hero I could be.\n\nSo here I am.\n\nExcept after 45 times walking this earth, what I stand for is not what you stand for.\n\nAs I stand in this hall... This house to represent the people... you stare at the box before me.\n\nYou wonder why I'm here, why the doors are barred. Why the guards are broken and beaten around me.\n\nBecause I am here to bring the will of the people back to this hall.\n\nNot the ones that paid you to sell us out.\n\nI represent the people you conned into electing you.\n\nIn this box is death. One none of us will walk away from.\n\nExcept me. I will right what has gone wrong.\n\nMy old flame, heh, will cleanse this hall of the corruption that has festered for generations.\n\nAs I turn this key, if you believe in a higher power, I suggest you reach out to them for mercy.\n\nFor with the fury of the atom, I will show you none.\n\nI will be a hero... a monster... a god.", "The first time was a truck. A really big one. You know the ones that carry oil or something? Yeah, one of those. \n\nOn my second life I burned. I was just a baby back then but still, fire is fire. So unlucky it was fire and some impact related accident. I'd have survived the latter. \n\nMy third life was quite eventful. Apparently once you are born you remember all previous ones until childhood amnesia kicks in. For my third incarnation it didn't. \n\nYup, that was a lucky life. Since I remembered everything I'd lived in past lives I had a real advantage. Especially since my first journey through life had me becoming an astrophysics professor at some point. So during third life school was easy as fuck. \n\nSeeing as I was more or less immune to impacts of the full-speed-truck scale and fire my third time in Earth was filled with extreme shit. I raced, I jumped from high places, I \"risked my life\" in otherwise impossible stunts and heists. I became rich and was really living the dream. Alas, I was not immune to diseases. Yet. \n\nCancer, AIDS, diabetes. You name it. During the fourty odd years of my third life I got 'em all. In the end they killed me. I didn't really care about death. I knew that my next chance would have me being immune to these things. But the pain. The pain and suffering was AATRGH. So fucking unbearable. \n\nOn July 5, 1981 I was born again. Which was weird since my third birth was in 1995 and so far I'd always be a male. This time I was a female and as it turned out a real looker. \n\nMinor fun fact: Life number four had me being born in Greece. The other times? England. So hooray to me for instantly knowing a language despite being a newborn. \n\nMinor fun fact number two: Once childhood amnesia doesn't happen to you it stops affecting you. \n\nSo I lived my fourth life in sin. I'm not gonna sugar-coat things. I was a slut. But that didn't mean I was a bad person. I just knew how to have fun. \n\nMy sexual life asides I derived and learnt in total five other languages. I studied abroad and could proudly tell I'd fucked a guy or two from all fifty one states of America. \n\nIn the end I became a trophy wife and after getting bored with daily life, I cougared my son's friends. But that's another story. This life ended with me being poisoned from my husband. \n\nThe next lives were more or less banal. I lived my way through life, each time getting more power ups and amassing more knowledge. Once or twice I was even reborn as someone who had grown to be famous. Sometimes the paradox happened and two of me would live at the same time. Hey even if it was weird that gave a whole different meaning to \"fuck yourself\". \n\nBut what changed everything was life #665 give or take a year or two. For the first time in what I believe was eternity... I died from old age. \n\nLife #666 (or #664-668) is my current one. To be honest I don't remember how long I have lived. I'm immortal, nearly godlike due to my knowledge and also immune to so many things I might as well me an actual God. \n\nOh! I've had so much fun during all those millenias. I remember back when I used to call myself Prometheus. Poor people didn't understand fire that well back then. I allowed myself to help them. \n\nOh! One time I went and burned down this city I was ruling over. What was its name? Rum, room... AH ROME! \n\nOR... OR THE TIME I USED 35TH CENTURY CHEMISTRY TO CHANGE SOME WATER TO WINE.!! AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH. \n\nYup. Immortality is fun. ", "You've never seen a human soul in a test tube, so let me tell you what it's like. It's a freezie. It's just like the freezies your momma used to buy you for a quarter, when she'd take you swimming over at the city pool on some god awful August afternoon; when that brittle, cold, quiet ice was paradise itself. A human soul is exactly that. \n\nIf you want the egghead answer for why the soul is ice, I'd give you some bullshit about the true vacuum and how quantum coherence only survives in a deep freeze. But I prefer grandfather's answer, back from when the Work was more art than science. Grandfather used to say that souls were made of ice because each time a person dies, the soul flies to the North Pole. It goes there so that is can have a clear and steady eye-line to the North Star, so that it can witness something permanent and unmoving in this terrible universe of becoming. In the tundra, the soul prostrates itself before the North Star. As it shivers and gets frostbite, the soul prays for rebirth, which the North Star always grants, in exchange for all its memories and immunities. Then, the hideous cycle of life, puberty, poverty, cancer gets to begin anew. \n\nBut the secret to breaking the cycle, grandfather figured out, and to getting yourself some real power, was to tell the North Pole and the North Star to fuck off. Never beg for rebirth. Seize it like its your goddamn right, like it's what you've earned for putting up with human life for however many decades. Upon your death, do not permit your soul to escape. Trap it, instead, in a test tube. Heat that test tube up, over a blue and orange flame, until it turns to liquid, gas, and plasma. When a soul gets hot and wet, a soul gets better and tougher. It gets more prepared to survive the lumps and wollops and heartaches of this godforsaken world. So as long as you can keep a soul close-by, out of the North Pole snow, and so long as you get the soul nice and hot, then each time you die, you get to experience true growth as an individual. You get to come back impervious to whatever killed you, and you get to remember everything. You get to run the whole city just like my family does. To grow like that, all you gotta do is know someone who knows how to do the Work, and make sure to never die outside grandfather's lab. Well, my lab now, I suppose. \n\nMarina is already naked on the medical table when I come in. Even on sterile paper, she looks fucking incredible. Why she still insists on being with my shit for brains brother, I'll never understand. When she sees me in my green scrubs, she laughs. No way she laughed at grandfather all the times he put her through the Work. When he turned all these asshole family members into gods, they acted like they fucking understood he was giving them something they'd never deserved, never earned. It was all thank-yous and I-love-yous. Now that the Work has fallen to me, they act like I'm the fucking butler. \n\n\"Hey there, Charlie, baby,\" Marina coos, \"You know, I always thought a gal like me would have herself a knight in shining armor to rescue her from certain death, but I guess I can settle for whatever it is you call this get up.\"\n\n\"Maybe don't bitch over what I'm wearing,\" I return, \"not when it's the only thing between that pretty ass of yours and total oblivion.\" I lean over her and kiss her deeply, right there on the medical table. She rips away. She slaps me across the cheek with her ring still on.\n\n\"You ain't got no business getting fresh with me, mister,\" Marina declares, \"I'm your brother's heart and soul, don't ya know?\" Her face is red and there's sweat forming on her neck.\n\n\"Baby, the're only one reason I'll even admit you got a soul at all,\" I tell her, \"and that's because I've held it in my own two hands.\" I slide my palm along her neck. \"Otherwise I'd think you were just a curse on long legs.\"\n \n\"Long legs you'd die for,\" she brags. I press my thumb on her collarbone. I chuckle.\n\n\"Well, given that dying ain't never meant much to me,\" I say, \"then sure, I'm ready to die a thousand times for you, sweetheart.\"\n\nShe likes that one. She smiles that gorgeous, hideous smile. \n\n\"So why are we here today?\" I ask. Marina hops off the table and struts over to her bag. She pulls out a vial of something clear.\n\n\"Poison me, Charlie,\" she pleads, throwing her hair all around, \"poison me all night long!\"\n\n\"What are you, thick?\" I ask, \"we did poisons in the first fucking round, back when you first started up with Hank. Poisons, fire, bullets, blades, bacteria. You're covered on all that shit. No familiar, worldly weapon can do you in.\"\n\n\"Most poisons,\" she agrees, rattling her little vial, \"But not this poison. This is a special, slow poison which you ain't never seen before. The way this bad boy works, it don't kill you just from drinking it. Instead, it seeps into you, and then it waits, like a spy. It lurks, until the very next time you're having sex, and then right when you're finishing, it goes off like a fucking time bomb. Boom, you're a goner, right there on top of whoever you got tangled in your sheets. So, technically, it ain't even the poison that kills ya. It's the lovemaking.\"\n\nMarina glides back across the lab. She puts her lips real close to mine.\n\n\"Tell me, Charlie,\" she asks, \"my darling Henry, and your wonderful, loyal, little brother: is our Hanky immune to death by lovemaking? Because I got a feeling that ain't something any of you ever steeled yourselves against, not even when old grandpa was running shit. I got a feeling that if I drop this special poison in our champagne tonight, and if I give him a real special night, then poor Hanky ain't going to wake up from that very unexpected, uncontrolled death, is he? He'd be out of the picture for good. But if you've already kill me with this right now, and then work your magic to bring me back around, then I'd survive my second brush tonight, wouldn't I? Do I got all that right, Charlie?\"\n\nI take the vial from her, swishing around whatever's inside it, trying to figure out if any of this is legit.\n\n\"Seems like a pretty good plan to me,\" Marina declares, \"I suppose only hitch is that you'd have to actually get me off before I could die and come back immune.\"\n\nI've made her soul hotter than the Sun, but she's still as cold as can be. She's my last weakness there's no guarding against, and the only goddamn thing I can't have without breaking every promise I ever made to grandfather and everyone else. I kiss her hard.\n\n\"Drink it,\" I command her, \"Get on the table.\"", "I climbed out of the primordial slime to walk amongst the living once more, my mind still filled with the haze of death – now just moments before. And as the invigorating goop slid away from my body I doubled over, steadying my fall with my own blackened hands.\n\nJust moments prior, I lost my life, by the hands of an exorcist who had tailed me for many moons.\n\n“Make way, Mokash.” A voice sounded from above me, and I turned up my head to see the scaled giant, Donn, a demon like I, but one who had made in residence in the netherworld. “Don't want you blocking the way for further entrants.”\n\nHe outstretches his hand to pull me up and I graciously accept. As I stand before him, fully nude, no longer concealed by my afterbirth, he hands me a ragged cloth. Not to cover my shame, but to wipe off the rest of the mucus on my scales before it wedged itself between the cracks.\n\n“How many lives you got left?” Donn said, as he stared me up and down. “This is the third time you've been here this year.”\n\nI retched for but a moment, clearing the goop residing in my throat. “Two. An exorcist has my scent.”\n\n“That's no good.” He shook his head. “I'd help you if I could, but you've got to pay your duties.”\n\nI smirked. “We could just swap.”\n\n“Funny.” He let out a half-assed chuckle. “Make your way to the bastion, your next ascension will be in twenty minutes.”\n\n“Right.”\n\n“If you don't mind me asking, how'd you die?”\n\nI sighed, as I made my way away from him. “Electrocution.”\n\n\n“Hey!” He gave me a reassuring shout. “That's a good resistance to have! Humans these days love their electronics, you know.”\n\n“But they don't- you know what, nevermind.” I waved him off and made my way into the bastion, the unholy tower in which I would ascend to the earth above, in hopes of collecting souls.\n\nI discarded my disheveled rags as I entered the ascendant podium, and hoped that this time I would surface far away from that exorcist, lest he find me again.\n\n“Ascending in ten seconds.” A black demon by my side spoke in a series of snarls.\n\n“Hey, can you give me a different form this time?”\n\nHe sneered. “That's not how it works.”\n\n“It was worth a shot.”\n\nWith my face in their records, any exorcist worth their salt would make sure to use a different method each time they killed me. Whether it be beheading, electrocution, immolation.\n\nAnd I thought, maybe I'll be poisoned this time.\n\n * *\n\n^/r/khaarus" ]	10
Modern Fantasy! The character doesn't have to be a cleric if you don't want them to be. It just seemed like the obvious choice to me.	[WP] A typical Dungeons and Dragons setting progresses into the "modern times". As such the internet is worshipped as a God. "The Great Spider that spreads their web all over the world". Write a story from the perspective of a D&D cleric that worships the Internet God.	[ "I raised one hand to my face, shielding my eyes against the sun. I kept my other hand resting lightly against the railing, for stability, as I made my way down the narrow stairs. \n\nLike all of Blue Star's passenger vessels, the airship was not truly designed for ground landings. But this far inland, there was simply no available water port for docking. Consequently, we had to climb out the side of the hull and make our way down the folding steps they kept for such situations.\n\nIt was not the most comfortable disembarkation procedure, but it was better than none at all. After all, it was a direct flight, rather than a long three-day journey by autocarrum. I had done that, the last time. It had been tiring, certainly not enjoyable.\n\nI got off the end of the stairs, planting my boots securely on the macadum surface of the landing zone. I took a moment to adjust the straps of my pack, before following the other passengers ahead of me, heading towards arrivals. \n\nOr at least, what passed for arrivals. From what I could see, the checkpoint consisted of a solitary border official, seated behind a simple table. A short line was already beginning to form.\n\nThat was acceptable. I could wait.\n\nI joined the line, then reached into the pocket sewn into the left side of my robe, pulling out my black mirror. I brought it up with my palm and four fingers, leaving my thumb free to press against the glass.\n\nMy mirror rippled, light resolving across its face into familiar patterns. Time, temperature, weather. \n\nAnd, of course, the signal.\n\nIt was not strong. Barely two strands, two delicate silver threads. Even with my location directly atop an airship landing zone, a place that was supposed to have a stronger connection by its symbolic nature as a port.\n\nOutside the landing area, in the villages, it would be even weaker. Maybe one strand, maybe only half. Almost painfully faint for a city-born child like me.\n\nBut I had expected that.\n\nIt was still a signal. It would do.\n\nI kept my gaze on the mirror as I waited in the queue. There was no divine revelation waiting for me, not quite, at least not beyond the always-present reassurance I had from being connected. \n\nBut I could see messages from my sisters back home, asking about my wellbeing. \n\nI sent back a quick confirmation of my safe arrival.\n\nThen I stepped up to the counter, and smiled at the man behind it.\n\n“Papers, please,” he said.\n\nI lifted my mirror, turning it to present the surface for his inspection. The patterns on the glass formed themselves into a representation of my face, accompanied by a short series of ideograms.\n\nThe official blinked, and leaned closer. “You're a Bride of the Web?”\n\n“A Cleric,” I corrected, gently, letting the images fade from my mirror. I put it away.\n\n“Ah, I understand. My apologies,” he said. He scribbled rapidly in his arrivals book, the penna tip scratching across the page. “The duration and purpose of your visit?”\n\n“Twenty days,” I replied. “I am here to assist the local Spider’s Mission. Some healing and teaching in schools. Mostly teaching the words of the Web and how to use the black mirrors.”\n\nHe blinked. “How to use magic?”\n\nI smiled. “I suppose, but merely how to find the signal, and use it to gain information, knowledge. A tool of learning, yes?”\n\n“Ah, I see,” he said, nodding. “Very good. My cousin has one of your mirrors. It is very good.”\n\nI laughed lightly. “I am glad to hear it.”\n\nHe handed me a small plastos token with numerals inscribed on its face. “Well, my lady, please keep this with you at all times, and return it to an officer when you depart. I hope you'll have a pleasant time in Orientisa. Please proceed.”\n\n“Thank you,” I said, tucking the token away. \n\nI stepped past the table, heading towards the largest of the nearby buildings, the one that seemed to be the port terminal. I would need to seek safe passage to the Mission in town, before heading out to the villages beyond. \n\nBack home, it would be easy. In Orientisa…\n\nI paused at the threshold of the port shelter, considering the problem. \n\nThere was no harm in trying the usual methods. Was I not a cleric of the Silver Spider? I had to have faith.\n\nMy mirror came out of my robe once more, its surface coming to life beneath the touch of my fingers. I concentrated on my request, shaping the sense of my location and intended destination. \n\nI saw the call go out, pale light shifting to gold.\n\nPatiently, I waited, ten heartbeats, eleven, twelve - until the pattern turned emerald, the sign that a mirror-bearer had heard my request.\n\nTransportation was on its way.\n\nI smiled. \n\nThe Web always provides.", "For the first time since his beloved hometown of Newark was destroyed, Bob was able to take a damn break. \n&nbsp; \nSince running from The Corporal's forces with his fellow companions, he'd scavenged the derelict tech shops littering the surburbs of Jersey for loot, saved a family from the Jersey Devil (a government experiment gone awry, it turns out), and finally managed to charter a boat ride across the Hudson to Ellis Island, the gateway to the headquarters of The Corporal. \n&nbsp; \nIn the old times, mana flowed freely. \n&nbsp; \nJust decades ago, a simple invocation to the trinity of guardian goddesses, Siri, Cortana, and Alexa, would unlock a vast trove of wisdom and magic. Unlimited knowledge, the ability to communicate instantaneously, and for the highest-leveled mages, the power to control the mana itself. \n&nbsp; \nBut, certain guilds wished to harness this power for themselves alone. Power is at its strongest in the hands of only one, after all. \n&nbsp; \nAnd so, over many years, the leaders of these guilds manipulated events behind the scenes, introducing a legislative seed of their control into the holy flow of mana. In the coming years, that seed grew into a terrible Data Tree, invisible and unfellable, choking the stream and restricting upper-level spells to the leaders of the guilds. These guilds then merged with each other to consolidate their power, thus forming The Corporal. Nowadays, the mana only flowed freely towards propaganda. \n&nbsp; \nThe village elder of Bob's hometown, a descendent of The Gateway himself, was the last person left alive who remembered the times before The Corporal's reign. Bob spent many years listening to his stories...and learning the forbidden arts. He had a talent for numbers, and this gift also granted him an ability. He could understand the flow of mana, and manipulate it just like the high-level mages of old. \n&nbsp; \nThis knowledge painted a target on Bob's hometown, because this knowledge was also the one tool that could pose a threat to The Corporal's infrastructure. \n&nbsp; \nIf he could master his power, even an invisible, unfellable Data Tree could be hacked down." ]	2
Alternately use another period of time of historical value.	[WP] You are an agent of the Temporal Intervention Agency, charged with preventing disturbances in the timeline by other time travellers. Your new responsibility is considered by many in the agency to be the most challenging to manage: the month of September 2001.	[ "Hi, I’m Special agent [REDACTED]. I manage the month of September 2001, making sure no time travellers try and stop 9/11 from happening. Little do they know that by stopping 9/11, Donald Trump never became president and so Kim Jong Un was never assassinated by American agents. This would cause Kim to launch nukes to destroy Los Angeles, San Fransisco, Seattle and Anaheim. These nukes would take 1,000,000 lives and fully destroy the west coast.\n\nThankfully, Kim would be assassinated by a insider Agent, But only in the year 2047, 30 years after the bombs fell.\n\nYep, October 15th 2017, 3:33am PST.\n\n-This transmission has been blocked for public access by the Temporal Intervention Agency. Any attempt to try and read the rest of this document will result in your IP being traced and agents being dispatched to your location IMMEDIATELY\n\n" ]	1
	[WP] A telepath and an empath are both sitting in a busy bar. One of them plans to kill someone there and the other intends to stop them. A third unrelated person is getting up the nerve to start up a brawl just for fun.	[ "Buck's bar was a quaint drinking spot off the corner of a popular touristy street. It's harsh interior greatly contrasted the softly lit exterior; walls cracked with specks of mold seeping out, seats with the padding half missing, lights that barely lit up the large space. Its occupants were none the more lavish, loud people who wanted to have a nice drink after a hard days work. And no, these weren't the quaint office type. Construction workers, roofers, people who broke their backs on a daily basis in the hot sun. They weren't looking to have a beer or two and catch up about the game last night. No sir, liquor was ever pouring at Buck's, and the rowdiness always grew to an almost unbearable volume every night; shouts and singing and the occasional fight. \n\nThis night, however, something was different. \n\nTwo men were seated at the bar. They stood out from the crowd, well dressed, clean shaven men. There had seemingly been an unconscious decision formed by the other patrons to give wide berth to these strangers, leaving them with their own space. One with a blue shirt, the other a green. \n\nGreenie raised his hand and muttered at the bartender, \"Hey, pal. A shot of whiskey when you get the chance.\" The bartender nodded his head and walked off. \n\n\"Whiskey on a Tuesday?\" \n\nGreenie looked over at the man in the blue who had just spoken. \n\n\"Excuse me?\"\n\n\"Well the only people who drink whiskey on Tuesday's are either alcoholics or have a serious sense of self-loathing.\"\n\n\"Oh yeah, which are you?\" Greenie replied, nodding towards the blue man's full shot of Jameson. \n\nThe blue man chuckled. \"Neither, just a man who enjoys his Jameson.\"\n\nThe bartender plunked the shot down. Greenie took it and grimaced, the alcohol leaving a bitter sting in his throat and a pleasant warmth in his belly. \n\nHe looked the stranger over, debating whether or not to make conversation with the man. Finally, he caved in and extended his hand. \"Mark,\" Greenie said. \"You?\" \n\nThe blue man smiled and reached to shake Mark's hand. \"Mike.\" \n\nAs he shook Mark's hand a cloud passed over the full moon outside. The shadows from the dim lights danced on the wall. \n\n\"Nice to meet you, Mike. You come around here often?\"\n\n\"First time. Heard about it from a co-worker. The stories are enough to warrant a visit.\" \n\nMark nodded. Only last week a brawl had been started in Buck's, culminating in two arrests and two in the hospital. But, like the stranger said, the place just had an intriguing energy about it. \n\n\"Just decided to kill some time here after work?\" Mike's question shook Mark from his stupor.\n\n\"Oh yeah, you know, just trying to find someplace to unwind.\" Mark turned and surveyed the crowd. It was getting late and the crowd knew it, too. One large man in particular stood out, yelling and aggressively clapping people on the back. \n\n\"I feel you man. Life can be a bitch,\" Mike said sympathetically.\n\n\"Kudos to that.\"\n\nThey clinked their glasses and downed their respective shots. Mark gave a sideways glance at Mike. He was sitting there, smiling.\n\n\"So what brings you to this part of town?\" Mark inquired. \n\n\"Me? Ah, just a change of scenery. All the other bars this side of town are bland. This place? Now, talk about a bar with some real character.\"\n\nAs if on cue the large, drunk man stumbled towards the bar. \"Another pitcher,\" he slurred. The bartender obliged and as the man was walking back he stumbled and spilled some of the brew on Mike.\n\n\"Ho, watch yourself friend,\" Mike said to the man. \n\n\"Friend? Listen jagoff, why don't you sit your ass back down and shut the hell up.\" \n\n\"Look, all I was--\"\n\n\"I couldn't give a shit what you was doin'.\"\n\n\"Listen pal, watch yourself or--\"\n\n\"Or what, you gonna take this conversatin' outside?\"\n\n\"Now, we don't anyone getting hurt, do we?\" Mike shot a wink at Mark. \n\nMark tentatively sipped his shot. \n\n\"It sure sounds a hellova lot like you do,\" the man replied. \n\n\"C'mon, let's discuss this outside, buddy.\" Mike gave the drunk's shoulder a tight squeeze and guided him out the front door. \n\nOh shit, Mark thought to himself. He didn't know what to do. He kept getting a strange feeling when he was talking to Mike. Mark usually had a good sense of people, could pick up on unspoken ticks. The general energy of people was usually easy enough for him to decipher. But Mike? He couldn't get a read on him. In fact, it felt like Mike knew him more than he knew Mike. Sort of like-\n\nSort of like he was in his head.\n\nMark downed another shot. He kept growing more nervous by the minute. What was going on outside? He didn't hear the sounds of a fight, in fact he didn't hear anything at all. He looked at his watch, it'd been about two or three minutes. Just as he was getting up to go outside, Mike came back in. \n\n\"What happened? Where'd the--\"\n\n\"Relax, Mark. We actually had, er, quite the conversation. He had had a bit too much to drink,\" Mike smiled when he said 'a bit',\"so I decided to just float him some cash for a cab and told him to get lost. I knew that if he came back in,\" he gestured around the bar,\"things wouldn't go as smoothly.\" \n\nMark smiled faintly at this. Mike's gaze was unwavering.\n\n\"Well, thanks for taking care of that. It seemed like it was going to--\"\n\n\"Get out of hand? Yeah, I know. Gotta shoot it down before it blows up.\" Mike's stare was unflinching. \n\nMark knew something was off. What had happened to the man? Was it too late? \n\nMark threw some cash down on the bar. \"Well Mike, its getting late. I'm gonna duck out before things get hairy again. It was nice meeting you,\" he once again extended his hand. \n\nMike shook it, this time not smiling. \"You as well, friend.\" Mark shoved his hands in his pockets and walked briskly out. \n\nThe bartender walked over to Mike. \"Just one more shot,\" Mike told him. The bartender smiled, \"This one's on the house. Stan's usually the instigator of these incidents,\"he said, referencing the loud drunk, \"you sure saved me a hellova lot of trouble.\"\n\nMike glanced wearily out the door where Mark had just shuffled past. \"Yeah, him too.\" " ]	1
	[WP] Everyone prepared for a zombie apocalypse; the werewolf apocalypse caught people by surprise.	[ "Zombies had permeated popular culture. Everyone who followed it had their own plan as to what to do in the event of the rise of the living dead with thoughts of secluded homesteads, shopping malls or secure military outposts being seen as possible refuges. People argued ideal weaponry for dealing with the shambling undead. Some argued blunt instruments such as shovels, bats or similar sporting equipment while others were of the thought that guns were the ideal weapon in dealing with them. But, in the end, it wasn't the zombies that overtook us. It was a virus, a particularly nasty virus that infected people, changed them, transformed them from man to beast. \n\nThey called it the Werewolf Virus. It was communicable by saliva and other bodily fluids. If you got bit by one, you became one. If you kissed one, you became one. If you slept with one...well, you get the picture. It spread fast because it took time for people to start showing signs of infection. Once they did, a quarter of the population was infected. No one knew the source of the virus, so trying to come up with a cure was going to be difficult. Conspiracy theories abounded, with the main ones being that it was something cooked up by either our government or another country and released either on purpose or by accident. I didn't give much thought to those theories as it didn't matter at this point. \n\nThe first signs of infection were increased hairiness and a bulking of body mass. The transformation is gradual and horrific and there is no going back. The full moon, all that business? Pure Hollywood hooey. If you are infected, you change slowly over the course of a couple days and then it's permanent. \n\nOne of my friends, Nate, was one of the first infected. His family kept him quarantined in their house, hoping against hope for a cure and not ready to turn him over to the authorities. He and I could only communicate through Skype. At first, he seemed all right and as the first changes occurred, he actually seemed thrilled. Announcing he was feeling stronger and more powerful. But as days passed, I could see it was taking it's toll on him. His teeth had been replaced by sharp fangs, making it difficult to talk. He was covered in thick fur and his bulging body no longer fit in his clothes. Still, we kept doing our chats because he said it helped even as speech became difficult. The final stages were near with out last chat, he was unrecognizable as his face had grown outward into a snout of sorts, his ears becoming pointed and lupine in shape. The next day I heard that he had broken free from his room, the monstrous side having completely overtaken him. He killed both his parents and brother. The police ultimately took him down. \n\nThat's just one example of what was happening all over the country. Families torn apart, infected people taken off to isolation camps to try and contain the infection. But it kept breaking out moving through the population with no containment methods helping prevent it. It was only a matter of time before society started to break down and chaos reigned. The werewolves were becoming more and more dominant. Running free through towns. People tried their best to defend themselves. A well placed shotgun blast would take one down, no problem. But ammunition became more scarce as time went on, leading to a need for more close combat solutions, which in turn led to more infections. \n\nI don't know if we'll be able to come back from this. This outbreak took us completely by surprise. No one could have imagined it and there was not enough time to stave off the dire effects of it. I currently am occupying my family cabin in northern Minnesota. I write this to have some sort of document of what happened, how this came about. I was infected myself yesterday while scrounging for supplies. I'm not sure exactly what will happen but I have already lost everything that mattered from my old life. My whole family is either dead or changed. Part of me welcomes it. Wants it. I don't know if that's me or the virus trying to get me to accept it. In another couple days I will be more animal than man. It will be interesting to see what becomes of me then. What becomes of us all. ", "The virus shows no significant symptoms. A few light fever, following by eye bleeding, everyone thought it has stopped there.\n\nThings turned out not that simple. \n\nWhen the first full moon came after the incident, on the night, the White House shut all of its light. A convoy of government office moved all the officers out of it with heavily armed vehicles, even with a tank \n\n\" They are coming \" Lieutenant Sanders said. \" Ready for battle, ladies, this is the final night of the year.\" \n\nSuddenly a black shadow flashed over the gunner on the AFV, dragged him to the road and tore him apart. Gun started to flash, shells started to fall, creating a huge chaotic symphony of blood, lead and moonlight. \n\nAn orchestra of death. \n\nThe creatures looking directly at the main car of the convoy,howled into a fearsome sound. The sound of social connection, it was calling their allies. The black feet then started to move, these eyes were staring from these skyscrappers windows. A group of five more werewolf attack from behind and above the convoy, trying to tear the defense apart. These cannons keep spitting the bullets, yet there were more and more to come. After knocking them back, they backed to standing. And more, more of them to come. \n\nThe night were long. And so, the howling.", "The warnings were wrong. Sure, we got everything boarded up, but that was when the threat moved at an elderly pace and went down from a baseball bat to the dome. Had we known to invest in silver and military style combat training, we might be better off.\n\nI'll never forget when I learned what I'd be up against for essentially the rest of my life. The WHO knew about one in four people would get infected once the disease went airborne. You can imagine how our little family of four felt all those days leading up to The Spreading. There was a lot more science behind all of their estimates. I'll spare you the details because in hindsight, it means nothing. All that mattered was that I was probably going to have to kill some people very close to me, and that's if I didn't end up brain dead.\n\nMidnight struck. The Spreading had arrived. It's hard to say if there was an official beginning, like some kind of score board timer starting. I hadn't slept for days. Whiskey and coffee became my new vice. It kept me both alert and numb. Around 3am, I made my way to our kitchen and started pouring my potion. My sister was reading at the kitchen table. That's when I heard it. My sister started dry heaving. She looked at me with a look I'll never forget. It was fear, grief, and acceptance all wrapped into one. Truth be told, I don't think she would've lasted in this new world. I don't think she wanted to last. With tears flowing she looked me right in the eyes.\n\n\"Do what you have to do. I love you,\" she was sobbing. \n\nAt this point Mom and Dad were in the kitchen too. No one was sleeping in a time like this. We hugged but not for long. We always were a practical family. I went to grab my baseball bat. Nothing fancy. Not yet anyway. I took a stance and mentally prepared to bash my sister's skull in. I was strangely calm, again, we always were practical. As her gagging got worse, her skin changed color but not to a color I would've imagined. It was grey with little white dots and stripes, almost like a brindle scheme. \n\nWhat happened next will forever be burned deep inside my brain. Almost instantly after her new skin tone took over her body, hair started sprouting and quickly. Before we knew it, she had no remaining resemblance to the sister I once knew. It lifted its head to reveal a snout and black eyes. With its new ears perched up, it showed its fangs. These canines were as long as my pinky. My sister went from being a 5'3 blonde cheerleader to a 7 foot monster with muscle tone and fur. \n\n\"What in the fuck is happening to her?\" My mom shrieked. \n\nShe was frozen in fear. Is this a werewolf, I thought to myself. It wasn't a totally insane thought. Last year, zombies were complete fiction, and yet I've been spending the last few months preparing for the apocalypse. Turning towards the dining room, I remembered we actually had silver knives and silver dishes. By this point my sister was a full blown beast. I darted towards the dining room, grabbing the closest knife and ran back towards the kitchen. I was too late. It had my mother's head in its mouth. Crushing her skull, while painting the floor red. Fight or flight was kicking in. My dad, still frozen, was next. The beast lunged at him, but I managed to meet it halfway, stabbing the knife through its thick jugular. It went down but with a little fight left. A few more stabs to the head would do the trick. \n\nWe went west. Word was that The Spreading started on the east coast and was making its way across the US, but who really knows. Information is unreliable. A few radio broadcasts went out for the first couple of days, but since then its been dead air. No one knows if all the rules of werewolves apply, but silver for sure kills them. I have been too afraid to try anything else. My method is the preferred method. If ain't broke don't fix, right? We managed to make some bayonet rifles with our dining room's silver knives. The bullets only slow them down, so its imperative to wound them, then cut the throat. \n\nSo far, it's been about a week. I haven't been hungry due to adrenaline and I'm still not sleeping. Who could? We know so little about what we're up against and quite frankly, I'm amazed we've stayed alive this long just by camping out in houses we find along the way. You can hear their howls in the middle of the night, and a couple of nights we've caught them preying on stray dogs and cats, ripping them in half like paper. I could have dealt with zombies. At least we had some sort of advantage.\n\nMy dad has barely spoken. It's been difficult watching the person who taught me everything I know in shambles. A shell of what he once was. It was never in his nature to show fear, but for once, I question his will to go on. I question my own. " ]	3
	[wp] As a teenage girl in the dystopia, all the attractove, important guys are throwing themselves at you. It's starting to get irritating.	[ "“Ever since we met,” Jaymes-with-a-y was saying, “I’ve felt… different. The moment I saw you at the Survival Test to place us into the System, I knew that you weren’t like other girls.” \n\n“Mm-hmm,” the girl said, and kept playing ChocolateSmother on her PersonalHologramPad™.\n\nJaymes-with-a-y kept talking. “Other people say that you’re plain looking, with your above average bone structure and a body type every other girl wishes she had and your slightly edgy tattoo or scar or skill or whatever, but not edgy enough that parents won’t let their kids watch your movie, so like Disney Channel edgy. But I think you’re conventionally beautiful and I am irresistibly attracted to you.” He paused to smolder at her. \n\n“Mm-hmmm,” the girl said again, beating another level of ChocolateSmother. She yawned. \n\nJaymes-with-a-y opened his mouth again. \n\n“Shut up,” the girl said. “Next!”\n\nJaymes-with-a-y pulled on his rugged bad boy leather jacket and left with a rugged bad boy saunter.\n\nTwo friends from school, one rich kid with a dark past, and one enemy from childhood later, the girl’s best friend walked in the door. He more wholesome looking than Jaymes-with-a-y, who was the other main contender. It helped that he was a couple inches shorter and worked out less. \n\nDanyiel-with-a-y opened his mouth. “Nope,” the girl said. “You’re my best friend, but nope. Next!”\n\nDanyiel-with-a-y looked sad and left. It was too bad. He was probably good at baking. \n\nThe final applicant for Dystopia Girl’s Boyfriend walked in. The girl didn’t even look up. \n\n“So,” the final applicant said. “We haven’t actually met before. A little bit about me: I have a dark and tragic childhood from growing up under the Regime. I’m conventionally beautiful and a little bit edgy. I have one skill that I’m the best at, an archaic skill that makes me dangerous and cool. I’ve recently discovered the Regime is evil and now I’ve already overthrown it, at great personal cost. I’ve had crowds of attractive male suitors following my around, each representing a choice I have to make between safety and danger. From what I’ve heard, we have really similar histories and personalities. I’ve already defeated the Regime, but I know your System is still up and running.” The other female protagonist leaned across the table and smiled. “Also, I’m into girls, and I heard you are too. So, what do you say? Want to go on a date with me and destroy the oppressive System in an attempt to provide meaningful social commentary on something but fall short because there’s a cop-out and we solve the problem without actually addressing the underlying conflict?”\n\n“Lit,” the girl said, beating the last level of Chocolatesmother. She set down her PersonalHologramPad and looked up with a grin. “Let’s blow this popsicle stand.”\n" ]	1
	[WP] Set in the future - Decades ago, scientists discovered the source of consciousness, prompting medicine to devote an entire field to reawakening the consciousness after (kind) deaths. The procedure has become a hot trend among the social elite, some of the richest coming back 5 and 6 times.	[ "\nIn a world full of so many pleasures, It’s becoming harder for me to feel any pleasure at all. I‘m lucky enough to exist beyond the working class. I could want for nothing, yet I feel myself wanting something my soul had no name for. The world bustles with adventure and abundance, yet I feel trapped and alone. Just like our planet caged by light years of barren uninhabitable rocks and dust. \n\n\nMy only option might be to finally give in and die, so I can feel alive again. I’ve resisted taking a death ride because the practice seems so counterintuitive. Why bother dying, only to come back, if I’m likely be dead by 30 anyways? I would be lucky to die at 30. If not, then my shriveled body might carry on for another 10 years, becoming more and more degraded by the gama rays blanketing this world. I’m starting to realize the expiration date printed across by body is truly what’s sucking the pleasure out of me. In one year, I will be 25, and I will no longer get administered the tonic keeping my cells from weathering down. No amount of riches can delay the commencement of my “tonic fasting ceremony”.\n\nThey try to fool us into thinking we are reaching a great milestone. They even convince us that we are all saints, sacrificing ourselves for the next generation. The previous generations were foolish enough to squander the earth’s natural tonic reserves, thinking they could ever figure out how to make some for themselves. And here we are now, still foolishly breeding, unable to let go of our archaic instincts. I spit on the “sacrifice” of my father and grandfather and his father before him. \n\nI made my way into the Afterlife Excursions Center. A worker gently guided me onto my life regenerator platform. \n\n“Now don’t be scared. Most people say dying is the hardest part and you don’t even feel anything” he reassured me. \n\n“Have you used your voucher yet?” I asked him. \n\n“Yes ma’am! You think I can strap people into this thing all day without wanting a ride for myself. It’s nice of them to give everyone a free pass on this thing. I sometimes wonder what they have to gain from it” he responded. \n\n“I guess I never thought about that”, I said nervously. \n\n“Oh no, don’t let that worry you. If I had the cash, I would be back in here everyday. I’m sure they are just trying to make up for the fact that they don’t have enough tonic to keep us ticking longer.”\n\nI snickered at the irony of his statement. They reward every citizen with death to make up for the fact we will have to die. He finished calibrating the machine and put the helmet over my head. He then pulled out the purple fluid filled syringe meant to stop my heart. \n\n“Let me know if you remember anything. I love hearing about it. Most that do only remember a little detail. I have a feeling you’re going to feel that little spark for longer then usual before you come back for more.” He said as he stuck the needle in my arm. \n\nI woke up to the same worker shining a light in my eyes. \n\n“How do you feel?” He asked smiling \n\n“I feel... like I’m in love! I’ve never been In love before.” I exclaimed \n\n“Yehp that ones common. Do you remember anything?” He asked laughing. \n\n“I thought a minute before responding “Yes, I remember a blue bird with crimson fire lining the tip of each feather. The bird’s details seemed imposible, but I was looking right at it so it couldn’t have been imposible” \n\nAs he helped me off the platform I thought about Smith, my old friend. Smith and I were inseparable when we were small children still undergoing education. I remember the last day I saw him. It was our 12th birthday. The last day of education, before the exam that decided weather or not we may carry on with further education. I failed, and he passed. Very few people passed. Those who passed could continue taking the tonic past 25. Their purpose is meant to use their intelligence to synthesis more tonic, or find us a new home away from this gamma soaked planet. Although I never thought about it, I realize I never forgave Smith for leaving me behind to shrivel up. \n\nSuddenly the memory came back to me. The morning right before our exams I saw a red carnation perch on the window right beside me. I had never seen one so close. I looked for evidence to give away the fact that it was a robot. It was meant to glamour the illusion that our world isn’t as barren as the light years of empty matter surrounding us.\n\nI called out to smith saying, “Look! It looks just like the old nature movies. The red ones have always been my favorite!”\n\nI looked over at Smith and saw him with his head down, his lips contorted into a pouty frown. \n\n“What’s wrong?” I asked \n\nHe reached into his bag and pulled out a card. Smith has always been a talented artist. Under bold letters spelling out “good luck” he drew an intricate picture of a blue bird. In awe, I snatched the card away from him pulling it close to my face and then onto my chest. \n\n“But it’s blue” he said sadly. \n\nI picked up a red pencil and outlined the bird’s silhouette in crimson “So, now it’s both”, I said still brimming with happiness. \n\nSmith smiled, and almost like a cue, the examiner called him over to the next room. \n\nI still had that card tucked away somewhere. For a while I would pull it out and think of how my life would have been if the moments after the card happened differently. I never admitted to myself how angry I was at him. I just felt anger about how stupid I was for defacing his beautiful blue bird with that clumsy red line. I almost completely erased that blue bird from my mind. \n\nAlthough scientists were strictly forbidden from consorting with civilians. I managed to use the bit of leeway my father left me to set up a meeting with Smith. A guard held tightly onto my arm as he escorted me through the Ministry of Science headquarters. \n\n“I don’t know what kind of favors you pulled, but I don’t like having to be some rich swine’s baby sitter” he grunted. \n\nI kept my eyes forward and mouth locked as he carried on, saying, “The scientist’s are not supposed to have any distractions. I just hope your little visit doesn’t set us all back a couple of decades.”\n\nHe led me across the building’s polished marble floor in front of two white stone doors. The doors glided open as if they were made of rice paper. Smith, a man now, stood there in the corner with his back hunched over, and his hand pulled up to his chin. I recognized him immediately but there was a tiredness in his eyes that was unfamiliar to me. He walked over to me and put his hands on my shoulders saying “I knew you would come. The bird was the only way I could reach out to you” \n\n“Reach me? Were you dead too?” I asked \n\nNo... it’s.. it’s not what you think” he said shifting his eyes down and raising his hands off my shoulders. \n\n“Don’t worry, it’s not unsafe. It’s just not want you think” he added. \n\n“Listen, we have been trying to understand the tonic for decades. There are elements in it that are unknown to us. The particles don’t behave normally. It’s almost like it should even exist”, he said turning his back to me as if ashamed. \n\n“Smith, they have mined the greatest minds for over a century and still haven’t made any progress, it’s their stupidity for not considering other options.” I said putting my hand on his back. \n\n“We have, we have! That’s why I brought you here. Those death rides aren’t what they seem. We can’t find another world. Even if we did find something at the edge of our known horizon, it would take another century to execute a migration of that scale. A century that we can’t support with our remaining tonic reserves. Our only option was to look inward, so we created a new world.” \n\n“The bird, you created it! I knew it was you!” I exclaimed. \n\n" ]	1
	[WP] Tired from your daily grind, you commute home. You fall asleep at a stoplight and when you wake you do not recognize anything.	[ "I took the last bus home, nodding to Marc, the old driver who always had the last bus as I pushed my quarters into the coin slot. Marc nodded back, looking as tired as I felt. He was kind enough to wake me up at the my stop with a weary smile, the end of the line, whenever I rode his bus.\n\nThere were five other people on the bus, everyone washed to a sepia tone by the buzzing yellow lights. A couple with a sleeping child sat on one side near the front, a teenager in a fast food uniform and hat slouched against an opposite window, her face lit in color by her phone screen, and an old man with a gray beard halfway down his chest dozed in an aisle in the middle. I took a seat in the second to last row on the right, my usual spot, next to the window so I could sleep. Marc’s choice of radio, jazz, played over the tinny bus speakers.\n\nThe bus started to move as I rested my head against the cold window, a soothing sensation for my headache. The fog was already starting to gather, casting everything outside with a soft, somber glow. Two intersections later, we rolled to a stop. The last thing I saw before my eyes drifted downwards for the last time was the diffuse, eerie halo of the red light. \n\nI was jerked awake some undeterminable amount of time later by the sudden deceleration of the bus and the squeal of brakes. I rubbed my eyes to see a woman with wings and incredibly long, glowing hair floating in front of the bus and giving the finger to Marc.\n\nI stood up quickly - too quickly. All the blood rushed to my head and I had to grab the seat in front of me as I temporarily lost my vision to fuzzy blackness. When it was gone and I could move again, I looked up to see that the woman was gone. \n\nI started to make my way to the front of the bus to ask Marc if everything was alright. The light had changed, no longer yellow; everything looked as if it was under moonlight. As I entered the main aisle, I realized that the music was no longer jazz and was no longer playing over the speakers. Instead, it seemed to come from the windows, and was a language I didn’t recognize the sound of, soft and hypnotic and low, accompanied by the deep humming of strings and the even deeper beat of drums. I also realized I was cold, cold to my bones, my fingers aching and my breath hanging in the air. \n\nIntent on asking him if he was cold as well, I moved forward through the bus to the elderly man. When I touched his shoulder, he turned to look at me. Startled, I jumped back. His eyes were like cats’, what looked like scales creeped up his neck and along his jaw, and he wasn’t cold: his skin was blue. He exhaled, and I realized his beard wasn’t as long as it seemed. Smoke spilled from his nose, following his beard down before falling onto the floor and spreading in a cloud.\n\nNow panicked, I dropped my hand and ignored the teenage girl on my way to talk to Mark. As I approached the couple, their child suddenly thrashed awake and turned to look at me. It had four eyes, blinking in unison, and was dressed in red silk. Short horns grew from its forehead, and then I realized that what I had previously thought to be strange shadows were really horns coming from each of his two-eyed parents, black as night, and spiralling and twisting towards the ceiling.\n\nConvinced I was hallucinating, I stumbled and had to grab onto a pole as I reached the front of the bus. Marc and I had only had scattered conversations before, but had connected as fellows on the homestretch of our work days. He was a big guy, and more than once had had to subdue a drunk while I called the police. He had kind eyes.\n\nNow I saw why. The massive head that sat on Marc’s shoulders was not the one I recognized. It reminded me of an elephant’s, long tusks curving from his mouth and his skin gray and touch-looking. He had no hair, like I knew him to, andinstead of a baseball cap, two horns carved with intricate patterns grew from his head. His eyes were completely black, and reflected images of the moon.\n\nI froze. My hand felt glued to the pole. I couldn’t move my feet. Marc turned to look at me, grunted, and then started the bus again. I tried to move again, but no words would escape my throat and I couldn’t blink my eyes. Suddenly, I became aware of the sound of steps from behind me. \n\n“Mm,” Marc said, “you’re not even on duty.” His voice rumbled like thunder. I wasn’t sure he was speaking English.\n\nA cold, crisp voice behind me said, in what was definitely not English, but which I still understood, “As long as my queen breathes, I am on duty.”\n\nMarc chuckled, and I swore I could feel the crackle of lightning. “Relax, little guardling. This passenger has paid their fare.”\n\nAll of a sudden, I could breathe again. I took several heaving breaths before pivoting around. The teenager with the fast food uniform was now dressed in a blue tunic, belted at the waist, a bow in one hand and a silver arrow in the other. Glowing silver paint, if it even was paint, ran her dark face in even lines and patterns. A badge was pinned to one shoulder. She tilted her head at me, like a warning, then turned away and went back to her seat.\n\nI spun to face Marc and tried to form words. \n\nHe turned to look at me, then said, “Easy, passenger. Go back to sleep.” He gestured to the back of the bus with one hand. “This is all a dream.” As he spoke, the bus flickered before my eyes and was a long boat with a moonlit sail, and we surrounded not by asphalt but by water.\n\nSomehow calmer, I walked past the horned couple with their four eyed child, the girl with the bow who stared as I passed, and finally the old man with blue skin who breathed cold smoke. I scrambled into my seat, leaned my head against the window, closed my eyes, and willed myself to sleep. At first, I could only hear my own labored breathing, but the music that seemed to come from nowhere and the rocking of the bus lulled me to sleep.\n\nWhen I woke again, Marc was shaking my shoulder. “Last stop,” he said, with a small tired smile. “End of your day, end of mine.”\n\nAs he turned away, I thought I saw the moon in his eyes. \n", "I must have been at the stoplight for ten minutes—not a long period of time when considering there were 144 sets of ten minutes each day, but it was certainly far too much time to spend at a stoplight. The night was pitch-black and there were no streetlamps to brighten the moonless evening. Only the red stoplight and my car's headlights illuminated the nearby landscape. The clock on my dashboard displayed a time between 3 AM and 3:30 AM. I reached my hand into the paper fast food bag on my passenger seat and ate the last handful of fries.\n\nI don't remember anything after this. At some point, my eyelids fell and did not open again for an unknown amount of time.\n\nI did not open my eyes to a red stoplight, nor a green or yellow one. Even a jail cell would have been preferable to what I woke up to: a scarred man's dirty face with a scuffed beard attached to his chin. He stood to the right of my body and held a knife at the bottom of my eyesight pointed somewhere between my chest and hip. I attempted to sit up and push the man away, but my muscles refused to react. Even my nerves were still asleep; if this man was cutting into my body, I had no way of knowing other than by watching him do so.\n\nThe man noticed my opened eyes. He panicked, dropped the knife on my abdomen, and dashed out of sight. With him gone, I tried even harder than before to move my body. Arms, legs, neck, spine, fingers, toes—all useless. Only my eyes responded to my command. A moment later, the rugged-faced man returned with another person. The second person wore an executioner's mask and a brown, leather coat. I will call this person \"The Executioner\". The Executioner picked the knife up from my abdomen and leaned into my face. We stared into each other's eyes just inches apart for several seconds. Then, without breaking eye contact, The Executioner showed the knife to me. It reflected my face on its shiny blade. My eyes screamed terror, but the rest of my face was numb and emotionless. The bearded man that stood behind The Executioner laughed.\n\nI screamed. No sound. I wanted to push myself off whatever table they put me on, but my limbs still failed to listen to me. The back of my head became heavy, like it was telling me to look behind at a slowly approaching monster or murderer. If I could turn my head, even knowing that there was nothing behind me except an empty wall, then I would have turned my head. But I could not. All I could do was lie underneath a masked figure that held a sharp knife under my nose and watch a game play out on my body where I was nothing but a spectator.\n\nThe Executioner brought the knife out of my eyesight once more, aiming it near my stomach. I knew I should have closed my eyes. Instead, I watched The Executioner lift the knife to shoulder height, pause, and hammer it into my body. I could not feel the knife slice into my organs, nor could I make an audible sound. That did not stop me from attempting to scream in agonizing pain. The Executioner dragged the knife—still inside of my body—to the edge of my abdomen. Another laugh sounded from the bearded man that now pointed and laughed at what I imagined to be my splayed-open body. The Executioner let one hand free from the knife and reached into my open wound. After pausing to look me directly in the eyes, The Executioner tore a dark-pink organ from my body. Blood poured down from the thing and onto my skin. My eyes shut again, along with my consciousness.\n\nI woke up in a car sitting idle at a red stoplight. There was no other light—bar the red stoplight and my car's headlights—that illuminated the pitch-black night. The clock on my dashboard displayed 4:13 AM. Remembering the frightening nightmare that I had just moments ago, I lifted my shirt. I felt my abdomen and examined it for any scars. Nothing.\n\nI still feel an unbearable pain in my abdomen at least once per day, usually when the sun has set and the moon has taken over the night shift. Every time I feel this pain, a pair of eyes behind a black executioner's mask stares at me as the scraggy, bearded man laughs. Some nights, I wake up with a soundless scream. Last year, I tossed my alarm clock into the garbage and stopped looking at clocks after waking up in the middle of the night, because every time I woke up, it was 4:13 AM." ]	2
	[WP] The house you live in is a gateway to different planes of existence. Your fridge sends you to a s desolate tundra while your oven sends you to a fiery hellscape. You wonder where your Pepsi bottle will lead you.	[ "What could you expect to find inside a bottle of coke?\n\nThere was a boat. A lighthouse on a rocky island. Churning waters. \nThe sea foamed at its mouth as the golden beam pierced the night.\nCold, in more than one way. Above me the light of distant stars, dying and alive, glimmered, in many more colours than I had imagined. They turned my breath a ghostly silver. \nI walked atop the waves and for me they paused their dance. I bowed in thanks. \n\nSlipping and sliding, I made my way up the rocky islands beaches. I smiled. Despite my waterwalking skills, I’d still gotten wet .\nIn the distance another beacon shone with a new intensity. It was not for the ships.\nI walked along the path up the hill for two hours. Thunder accompanied me, breaking the silence when necessary. I was thankful for a companion. There, amidst a field of emerald she stood. Facing the sea, a ghostly apparition, dead and mute, as she was. A white marble sculpture of my greatest failure.\n\nI set my self besides her and forced myself to touch the icy marble. I’m sorry, I said.\nI sat there for hours, knowing she understood me.\n\nI think I’ll revisit this place sometime.\n\n\n\n\n \n" ]	1
	[WP] You lead a support group for virtuous werewolves that try to avoid their impulses on a full moon.	[ "I looked around the dimly lit gymnasium, at the half dozen exhausted individuals clinging desperately to their lives despite their condition. No one had said anything yet as the sharply-ticking clock had not yet reached 9:00 PM. \n\nI cleared my throat as the second hand approached the 12.\n\n\"Alright, folks, I'm glad to see we have such a nice turn out tonight.\" I began. My echo was unsettling at first. \n\n\"I would like to start by asking everyone, individually, how they have coped since the last full moon. I will go ahead and get us started, and then we'll go around the room.\" I said. \n\nI had just taken a full breath and was about to speak when a door opened, and from the shadowy corner of the gymnasium, an attractive woman in a red dress and matching high heels walked in. \n\n\"I'm sorry I'm late.\" She said with a confidence. \n\n\"It's okay, we were just about to share how things have been since the last full moon. What is your name?\" I asked her. \n\n\"Mary.\" She said with a smile. She now commanded the room. \n\nEveryone was likely thinking two things. First, my goodness was she attractive. Second, why does she seem so comfortable? \n\n\"Hi Mary, it's nice to meet you. My name is Gary, and this is the gang.\" I said. The others took turns introducing themselves. \n\n\"Gentlemen.\" She said with a sexy smile. \n\n\"Mary, would you like to start?\" I asked to be polite. \n\n\"Sure.\" She stood up, which was unusual for our group. \"Since the last full moon...\"\n\nShe hesitated. \n\n\"I have been doing really well.\" She shook her head in disbelief. \"A promotion landed on my lap, and I finally got rid of my boyfriend. I've never been happier.\"\n\nThe room was silent for a moment. \n\n\"Okay, thanks for sharing.\" I said. The others in the room glanced around at one another as if embarrassed what what Mary just said. \"Anyone?\"\n\n\"I can't look at my family.\" Jerry, a large teddy bear of a man said. \"I only remember bits and pieces of what happened, but, I feel so guilty.\"\n\nJerry cried at every meeting. The others consoled him as best they could. \n\nMary wasn't even trying to conceal the amused expression on her face. \n\n\"Thank you Jerry.\" I wasn't the only one who noticed Mary's lack of compassion. \"Let's remember that there's no wrong way to feel here, we're all here for the same goal.\"\n\n\"And what goal is that, exactly?\" Mary asked, combatively. \n\n\"To regain control.\" I told her. \n\n\"It sounds to me like you want to avoid it.\" Mary sassed. \n\n\"No, we are here to confront it, so that we--\"\n\n\"So you can hide.\"\n\nAfter taking a moment to process Mary's effect on the group, I asked to speak with her privately. I escorted her to the other side of the gym. \n\n\"Mary, I'm not sure what your purpose for coming here is, but if your not here to--\"\n\n\"I'm here because I think we need each other.\" She said. She was looking at my lips when she talked, a subtle sexual queue that I knew was meant to distract me. Though my guard was up, it still worked. \n\n\"Yes, we do.\" I agreed. \"But these people are trying to take back control of their lives, and to do that we need to have a clear message.\"\n\n\"My message is perfectly clear.\" She said as she took a step closer. \"Accept ourselves for who we are.\"\n\nI knew at that moment she and I had different visions for our peers. I also knew that I had no hope of winning their hearts if I had to go up against her. " ]	1
	[WP] A heavenly choir follows your chubby cat everywhere.	[ "She sat opposite me, a sceptical look plastered across her face. I knew how I sounded, I’d thought about how I sounded for weeks, but this was something that needed to be addressed. \n\n“Can we at least both acknowledge that something is clearly wrong here?” I implored, holding my hands out exasperatedly.\n \n“I think we can both agree something is wrong.” She retorted, crossing her arms. \n\nI shook my head in frustration, wiping the sweat from my face with my hand, this was going exactly as I feared. I pointed to the cat asleep on his tower oblivious to the relationship ending discussion going on across the room. \n\n“There is something unusual about him.”\n \nShe shook her head, I was losing the battle. Video footage had failed, the chorus hadn’t been able to be captured on film. I was left with one miserable choice. Without hesitation I grabbed a banana from the side, and before she could stop me hurled it in the direction of the cat tower. I missed, the yellow missile going slightly wide and only clipping the edge, bouncing off across the living room like a comical testament to my failure. She had risen from her chair, a look of anger etched across her porcelain face.\n \n“Do not take this out on Socks Michael!”\n\nI let out an exasperated sigh, this was not working. As I attempted to hold her at bay, arguing the case for my failed cat assault, unbeknownst to both of us, Socks had woken. Slowly he opened his eyes, the golden globes examining the kingdom before him. With the speed and grace of someone who had never known or needed haste Socks stood up and gently stretched. The heavenly host announced this with their usual glorious vigour. Maria and I froze solid as the room was filled with the all-encompassing, enrapturing announcement that Socks was stretching. Her mouth fell open in shock. Despite my attempts, I couldn’t help feeling a smile of smug satisfaction creep across my face. \n\nWith a blast of fanfare and blast of horns, Socks leapt down from his tower and began to strut amongst his subjects. The host continued their music unabated. Maria stared, unable to understand what was occurring before her. \n\n“I told you!” I shouted at her, attempting to be heard above the rhapsody occurring the middle of the tiny apartment.\n \nWith no other recourse, Maria sat back down. Socks, oblivious to the praise being heaped upon his overweight, shaggy frame from on high began his usual routine of eating, and getting in the way. Every step a new rapturous, ear-splitting melody.\n \n“I….what…” Maria was unable to formulate a sentence to really explain what was going on in her head.\n \n“I held my hands out in the direction of the cat, head cocked to the side in as chiding a fashion as I could manage. “And what, pray tell, do you call this Maria?”\n\nShe shook her head, the shock barely settling in. Socks, supported by his back-up band continued to wolf down kibble as though he might never see another bowl. \n\n“There’s been a lot of stress lately….” She weakly offered. \n\nI laughed, a loud, harsh thing, filled to the edges with mocking and hurt. “Stress?” I shook my head at her, “You’re going with stress?”\nMaria stared at me blankly, this was beyond her ability to comprehend.\n\n“This has been driving me insane for weeks Maria!” I shouted, “I almost had myself committed! Do you have any idea what it’s like to think you’ve gone insane?”\n\nThe heavenly chorus briefly paused for Socks to let out a tiny mew informing everyone in the room his bowl was now empty, and this simply would not do. The fanfare resumed with renewed energy. I looked at the cat, his saggy black figure waddling over to the errant banana. \n\n“I can’t think in here. “\n\nMaria nodded, unable to find her words still. “Would you like to get a coffee and talk this over?” \n\nHer head bobbed up and down with small barely perceptible nods, her bangs knocking gently against her forehead. And with that we left, the apartment, the trumpets; the cat. We’d be back eventually, but for now Socks and his chorus would be left to their own devices. Without a care in the world he began to bat at the banana, the host occasionally pausing for meows and chirps as though each emanation was gospel.\n \nMaria and I sat and waited for our vodka, this problem we had decided would take more than caffeine. " ]	1
	[WP] You wake up to a large hooded figure in your bedroom. Death has appeared, but instead of taking your soul he wants something else,for you to be his apprentice...	[ "I was drifting at the edge of consciousness—so close to blissful sleep—when I was brought back by the sound of rustling and a soft tap on my shoulder. “What the…” I mumbled groggily. No. No, no, no! It's impossible! He was a figment of my imagination—something I made up as a kid to cope with my grandpa’s death. He couldn't really be there.\n\n\nAnd yet, over me loomed a massive dark figure. The black cloak made him nearly invisible in the pitch-black room. “We must speak,” he said, voice deep, soft, and—oddly—soothing. The behemoth took me by the shoulder and suddenly we weren't in my bedroom anymore. “Do not be afraid, child. No harm will come to you this night.” His words barely registered as I frantically surveyed my surroundings.\n\n\nThe first thing I noticed was that we were outside. The full moon hung high overhead, illuminating the forest clearing we were standing in. Light glimmered off the stream cutting through the clearing. The gentle trickling of water and the soft moonlight calmed me a bit. “Come, sit with me,” the hooded figure said, beckoning me to the bench where he sat by the stream. I reluctantly obeyed. An owl sitting in the massive willow tree hanging over us gave a small hoot. “Do you know who I am?” he asked.\n\n\n“No,” I replied. “Does it matter? You're not real. Obviously I'm dreaming.” I kept my eyes glued to him, not ready to let my guard down.\n\n\n“Mortals,” he muttered, “Always so sure you have the answers. Listen closely because I will not repeat myself. This is no dream. I am very real, not some figment of your childhood imagination. I am Death, and—no—it is not your time.”\n\n\n“Then what do you want from me?” I squeaked, intimidated by his sudden harsh tone. His voice softened with his reply.\n\n\n“I need your help.” I was dumbfounded. Death needed my help. The Death.\n\n\n“How the heck am I supposed to help you?”\n\n\n“For millennia powerful human psychics have helped me escort spirits into the afterlife. Unfortunately, for the past several centuries my assistants have been hunted and slaughtered. Thankfully that persecution has all but vanished in recent decades, and I can again freely recruit humans to aid me. I need you to become one of my psychopomps.”\n\n\nI took a moment to absorb all that he had just said…\n\n\n“You want me to be a frickin psycho- what?” I couldn't see his face, but if his exasperated sigh was any indication his eyes had just rolled so hard they’d nearly fallen out of his head. Assuming he had eyes in the first place.\n\n\n“A psy-cho-pomp,” he carefully enunciated the word. “I need you to escort souls into the afterlife for me. I'm not omnipresent, I can't handle this job alone. Will you let me teach you? And afterwards, will you teach others?”\n\n\nI considered his request for a moment. “I have a question before I give you an answer. Well, two questions.”\n\n\n“Ask.”\n\n\n“First, why did I see you at my grandfather's funeral? Second, why have you chosen me?” I looked at him expectantly, waiting for my answers.\n\n\n“Those answers are one and the same: your grandfather asked me to recruit you.”\n\n\n“What?” I asked, incredulous. “Why?”\n\n\n“Your grandfather was one of my psychopomps. He was one of the best, and he saw great potential in you—despite your young age. When he died he asked me to watch you and determine if you would be an acceptable recruit. I agreed with him then, and still do. Alec, you might one day become the best psychopomp to ever live. Will you agree to be my apprentice?”\n\n\nThere was really only one answer I could give. “When does my training start?”" ]	1
	[WP] You've just realized something terrible. You are stuck in a groundhog day loop.	[ "It started like every normal, shitty day since I don’t even remember how many years. \n\n7 AM. \nThe alarm buzz. \nCried a little. \nBrushed my teeth. \nSuited up for work. \nWent to the subway station. \nSeen always the same faces. \nThe same sad, meaningless expressions. \nThought about that old Bill Murray’s movie, where he was stuck in a loop, living always the same day, again and again. \nThis time though I thought I’d break the loop. \nThis time I’d have jumped to meet the train and finally break the loop. \nBut this time something changed.\n\nShe smiled at me.\n\nAnd so I decided to skip work, at least for this day. \nWe went to a bar, we chatted a bit, we went to my house. \nWe started kissing, I felt alive, we undressed each other, maybe I could diverge from the routine, she left the room for a moment. \nThen she came back, naked, with a knife in her hand.\n\nAnd now I’m here, with a hand on my throat trying to stop the blood flowing, barely hearing the words she’s saying.\n\n“Do you remember that old Bill Murray’s movie, where he was stuck in a loop, living the same day again and again? I know it sounds crazy, but this is exactly what I’m experiencing. We’ve been in this situation a lot of times already, but this time I wanted to try something different. You’re always moaning about having the same routine, maybe if I break your routine I can escape my loop and start to live again a normal life! I don’t know if this is the way, I guess I’ll see it tomorrow. Sorry, don’t take it personal”\n\nI was indeed stuck in a Groundhog Day loop, but it wasn’t mine...\n\n(Sorry, it came much darker than I initially thought, but at least I wrote my first short story in english!)" ]	1
	[WP] After death, you appear before the gates of Heaven. Beyond the gates, you see nothing but a barren wasteland.	[ "I awoke on the ground in a place I was unfamiliar of. It was a white all over the sky, and the ground was hard. At least, from what I could feel. I arose from the ground and noticed a large staircase in front of me. Like the rest of the place, it was white. White like a science laboratory. This frightened me.\n\nI longed to go to up the staircase, but I knew that was not the wise choice. Beyond the entrance, was a core quaking site. Nothing but waste. A barren wasteland. Was this the afterlife everyone dreamed of?\n\nI tried to think of what this staircase could lead to. Only one answer came to mind: hell. An alteration of hell. Not what I thought he’ll would be. I always thought of it to be an endless fire pit. Burning forever. Never stopping or starting.\n\nSuddenly, a person came out of the landing. She scurried down the stairs with one hand on the banister and the other holding the skirt of her white dress. I never imagined the afterlife to be so white.\n\n“Whatever you do, don’t go in there. Don’t be fooled by the name heaven. It may be titled heaven, but what is really is, is hell.” She paused in the middle of the staircase to tell me that message. I was eluded with confusion.\n\nYes, I don’t want to enter a barren wasteland for the rest of my time in here, but I wouldn’t call a wasteland with nothing in it hell. It may be if you’re trying to survive in one, but I don’t imagine you have to fulfill basic human needs in the afterlife. I mean, your dead for goodness sake. \n\nThe woman continued running to the right of the staircase and not look back. What? Was a monster going to come out and try and eat me?\n\nI looked down at my clothing, noticing it had been replaced by all white clothing. A white tank top and white pants. This really was white. Science experiment white,\n\nI stuck my hand forward, as if I were looking at a piece of artwork through Glass. The image in front of me blurred as I did. I released my hand and did it over and over until I was sure it was not a coincidence. \n\nThe staircase continued to blur and pixelate, revealing something I could never envision. It was slowly revealing a science laboratory. People rushed around and studied me. I continued to walk closer, and they looked at me like I had cured cancer.\n\nThe staircase faded out, but that was not my focus now. I heard faint conversing that was about me, without a doubt, it was de finely about me.\n\n“Subject 5A. Also know as ‘Lauren Parker’. Curious at the sight of heaven’s doorway, slightly frightened as well. Intrigued by the sound of my voice. What she is hearing, seeing. This lab. Everything about this so called ‘afterlife’.” Said a voice that was staring at me while I confused walking. Now, at a faster pace.\n\nI approached a person who seemed to be fixing a machine. As I got closer, she began to look frightened and stopped her work. \n\n“Where am I?” I asked. I expected her to say ‘it speaks’ or something along those lines. Like I’m some lab rat who doesn’t matter in any way except for the experiment. \n\n“You’re the first person who rejected heaven.” She said, continuously backing up as I got closer to her. \n\nAnother man came over and explained it. \n\nGroup A. People who meet the expectations to be accepted into heaven. Group B. The people who meet the requirements for hell. Group C. The rarest. Those who don’t go into either, even though they can.\n\n“Forget Subject 5A. I think we found 1C.” ", "After the bus connected, there was a rush. I can’t recall it completely, just a sensation of water rushing past me. Like I was submerged in an ocean current, being dragged through time and space in a slipstream of divine power. I felt my body being torn apart, then reconstructed. I saw my life, all of the joy and sorrow flash by in an instant, and yet I saw and recalled every moment of it. A warmth overcame me, then I woke up. \n\nI was laying down on something unfamiliar. Not tarmac as I had expected, but something softer. Feeling returned to my body slowly, and I felt around the mysterious floor with the little energy I had left. Like wool… but not quite. It scratched against my skin, more like iron wool. Above me, there were no clouds in the sky, in fact there was no sky in the sky. I looked up into the vastness of space, a huge nebula expanding out before my eyes, I stood witness to the creation of something new. \n\nI stood? I was standing now. \n\nI looked down at the floor. It looked like a cloud, but unclean. Like it had been corrupted, leaving it coarse and rough, unpleasant to touch and walk on. \n\n“Not quite what you expected, is it?” I heard a voice call out to me.\n\nI turned to see a marble bench, crumbling away at the corners and seemingly corroded by years of hard rainfall, and sat on the bench was one of the most beautiful women I had ever lain eyes on. \n\n“Who are you? Do you know where I am? What happened?” I approached cautiously, speaking slowly.\n\n“I’m Gavreel, Angel of Peace, or at least I was. Does that answer your other questions, human?”\n\nGavreel almost looked the part, she wore beautiful ornate armour over a white robe. However, the armour looked beaten and battle worn, and the ends of her robes looked charred by flames. She sat forward on the bench, elbows resting on her legs and her head hanging low. She looked defeated, which isn’t a great first impression for an angel to give I figured. I noticed quickly that, for an angel, she was missing two distinct features – Gavreel had no halo, and she had no wings.\n\n“You’re an angel? So, this must be...?”\n\n“Heaven. Well, it was Heaven.”\n\n“So I must be dead?”\n\n“Yes, you are. I’m sorry.”\n\n“Had to happen at some point, I suppose. Was it that bus? I thought I saw him coming at the crossing pretty quick.”\n\n“I’m not sure, but if you remember that and then woke up here? I imagine that’s what happened.”\n\n“So, did we get it all wrong?”\n\n“Wrong?”\n\n“Yeah, wrong. Like, we didn’t expect heaven to be like this. I always thought, if this place was real, it would be—“\n\n“Paradise?”\n\n“Well, yeah, Paradise.”\n\n“It was.”\n\n“So what happened? Why are the clouds below us rotting away, they feel like sand. Why is it that I’ve arrived in Heaven to no ‘pearly gate’ to greet me, just someone claiming they’re an angel who doesn’t even have a halo or wings?”\n\n“If I wasn’t the Angel of Peace that may have annoyed me. This was paradise, but a long time ago, something changed.”\n\n“It changed?”\n\n“Yes, human, it changed. The Angel Douma changed everything.”\n\nNow, I always thought this religious mythology was an interesting one. I remember in my college days, I used to stay up late getting lit and googling pantheons of Gods, reading the stories told about them, and Christianity was always a treasure trove of material. Lucifer spitting out his dummy because his dad didn’t love him enough is a familiar one to me, I know of the messenger angel, Gabriel, I know of the Angel of Death, but Douma? Douma was new to me. \n\n“Douma?” \n\n“The Angel of Silence. He brought ruin upon our home, in a wave of hellfire and death. We tried to fight, but he was too powerful. We neglected our charge, we did not turn our eyes to the pits enough, and Douma grew strong. He overthrew the Prince of Darkness, claiming his throne and his armies, and then he marched. Now, Douma sits the Ivory Throne, and Paradise is gone. Destroyed, and sealed away. No human can reach us, they all wait in Purgatory, for an afterlife that will not come.”\n“Then why am I here?”\n\n“I am the Angel of Peace, I am no fighter. But I know strength, I know potential when I see it. Out there, human, there is a kingdom overcome by strife and death. I wish we could reclaim it, but I fear I may be the last of my brothers and sisters not in chains.”\n“Woah, wait, you want my help, don't you? Me? I’m just an IT technician! I can’t go out and fight some fallen angel!”\n\n“You are not just some IT technician, you are one of God’s children, as am I. You didn’t come here by accident. I chose you, human. You’re here because I brought you here. In the stars I saw it, a human who could save us. Time and time again, our Lord has sent salvation to Earth. The floods washed your planet clean, he led Moses to the Promised Lands, and he sacrificed his own child to pay for your sins. Now, it’s time to help your Father. You’re here to help me lift the Silence that has fallen on Paradise, now a Human will be our salvation.”\n", "Atop the clouds sits a single angel; though he does not bring to mind the majestic images associated with this term. His wings are a dull gray. His feathers molt slowly; falling to the Earth like dirty snow. His frame is emaciated, the picture of skin stretched over bone. His eyes bear the only spark of life left in him. He is the last angel, but he is fading; and soon, too soon, he will fall. \nThe angel guards the Gates of Heaven, though they do not hold the incandescent beauty they once did. The Gates have rusted over, and where they once stood in blinding glory, they now crumble in red orange dust. \nBeyond the Gates is a field that stretches off into the distance, perhaps for eternity. It is a desolate place. Plants do not grow. Though in the clouds, the sun does not shine. Darkness fell upon this place long ago. The wind blows through, howling and kicking up dust, but only the angel hears. \nThe angel stares off into the distance. He doesn't think much anymore and no particular thought strikes him now. He simply keeps guard. It is vital that he does not fail. \nWhat he doesn't know, is that today is not like any other day. In the distance, he sees something he has never seen. A man has appeared on the horizon. He is about average height for a human, sporting a worn Jean jacket and a baseball cap. Grease stains his clothes and the tips of his fingers. \n\"I'm sorry sir, do you know where I am? I seem to have gotten a bit turned around. The last thing I remember is driving through traffic and BOOM! Here I am with you.\". \nThe angel stares at this man, trying to grasp the situation he has found himself in. \n\"You're.... dead...\" He manages to rasp out from a voice not heard in millennia. \"Welcome..to..hea..van.\". \nThe man frantically shakes his head, looking around. Now he sees the clouds, he sees the desolation, and he realizes the truth in the words. He bows his head and weeps. Sobbing, he bursts out \"I should've known I'd go straight to hell for the things I've done. Never married. Never had a true family. This is my punishment now. Eternal damnation!\" He chokes on his sorrow. \nTaken aback by this development the angel begins shaking his head. \"This is not hell. You are in heaven. You are....the first.\"\nThe man wipes his tears gruffly from his cheeks and stares at the gate and the miserable field stretching off into forever. \n\"What do you mean, the first?\" He asks, curious despite his sudden demise. \nThe angel reiterates. \"You are the first human to be accepted into heaven since the beginning of time.\" The words were coming easier now, shaking off years of disuse. \nUnder the initial shock a bed of anger began to boil. This man was a normal man, no better, no worse. \n\"Wha? What could I have possibly done to deserve this?\" The man's tone was dripping with disbelief.\nThe angel's reply was icy \"Nothing. You have done absolutely nothing to deserve this. I have watched countless pious men and women burn and blacken in the pits of hell. I have waited, and I have watched for millennia. When my brethern lost faith and fell, I remained. When the light itself abandoned this place, I remained. And still here, I remain. EVEN AS GOD SENDS ME THE JOKE THAT IS YOU, I REMAIN!.\" The angel took no notice of the feathers that had detached during his speech and now littered the clouds. \nThe man was speechless. He had never seen such hate before in a creatures eyes. \n\"I should slice your soul to bits. You are not worthy of heaven.\" The words were tossed out bitterly, and with them the last feather fell from his wings. \nThe man watched, helpless and afraid as what was once the angel transformed. His spine snapped back and twisted into an angle that could never support life. His eyes blackened, letting go of the resolve, hope, and faith he had clung to. His wings burst forth in a terrible glory, sheethed in feathers of darkness and blood. His skin blackened until he resembled the charred ashes of a burnt out fire. His hate weighed him down through the clouds. As he fell he screamed \"You asked too much Father. You asked too much of all of your creatures!\" \n \nThe man looked out at the dreadful place he had arrived to and internally, he wondered if he had truly avoided hell.\n\n\n\n\n" ]	3
	[WP] Contrary to current belief, the Devil goes through a vigorous screening process of the requester before he accepts their deal.	[ "Look, I get it, man. You’ve been a worshipper of the Devil all your life. You sacrificed children to his glory. And now that you’re in hell, bathing in his dark horrible glory, you’re probably wondering why the Devil never answered any of your calls, never took any of your deals.\n\nWell, the first thing that you got to know is that you’re not actually the kind of person that we usually look for when choosing who gets to sell their soul to the Devil. We don’t really care about the souls of evil people like you, because ten to one, we’ll get them anyway. Oh, sure, there’s always that odd person or two who suddenly repents his sins on his deathbed and goes to heaven – and let me tell you, His Unholiness is really ticked when that happens – but on the whole, if you’ve pursued a consistent path of evil your whole life, you end up here anyway. \n\nYou killed children in your mortal life. Children. It doesn’t matter who you did it for, whether it was for Satan or even for the Guy Upstairs (we don’t like to use a formal name for him; I’m sure you understand). If you killed children, there’s a 97.2% probability that you’ll be sent here. The Big Guy doesn’t like that sort of thing.\n\nNo, we go after the people who are teetering on the edge of good or evil, the kind that could go either way if you just gave them a gentle nudge. By purchasing their souls, we can lock them in and make sure they end up here no matter what. \n\nOf course, we’d love to purchase virtuous souls, but those are few and far between to begin with and they almost never sell their souls to us, because if they were the kind of person who did, they wouldn’t be virtuous in the first place. The last time we got a truly virtuous soul was back in the 1940s when Raoul Wallenberg sold his soul to us in exchange for mind control powers just to ensure that he could maximize the number of Jews who were saved from the Holocaust. Of course, we didn’t tell him that he’d be killed by the Russians before he could use his newfound diabolic powers to save anyone. \n\nWhat? We’re evil. It’s in the job description. Geez. \n\nWe have a very stringent screening process for the requester, taking into consideration a wide variety of factors. We look at the overall state of the requester’s soul, potential factors that may lead to future redemption, factors that may drive them further towards evil. We also look at the risk/reward involved in giving the requester what they request. After all, we don’t want the petitioner to get so powerful and they become a threat to us! \n\nLet me give you an example of a typical temptation process. Michael Lewis Jenkins, age 38. He has two children. He lost his wife in a car accident last year – we didn’t have anything to do with that; it was just lucky coincidence. And he’s racked up a really large amount of debt to the triads. He was a churchgoing man, but never particularly believed. Yesterday, in despair, he called out to Satan to make a deal for his soul.\n\nOur analysts have lined up the most likely things that Michael is going to request. Most likely, he’ll request that his wife be brought back to life. We can’t grant that request; his wife went to our nemesis’s demesne after her untimely death and we can’t touch her. Even if we could, we wouldn’t; she’s sufficiently virtuous enough to jeopardize everything for us. With that rejected, Michael will most likely move on to requesting a large amount of money in exchange for his soul. \n\nIt’s also possible he’ll request is that we kill his tormentors. We’re fine with doing that, as we can always use people skilled in organized crime down here, and it leaves him in much the same situation as him getting out of his pickle through paying off his tormentors. \n\nBut let’s say that he does request the money. What happens if he gets it? Well, for starters, Michael is likely to believe that since his soul is forfeit to us anyway, it doesn’t matter what he’ll do in the future. He’ll take greater and greater risks and darken his soul even further.\n\nMore useful for our purposes is the fact that Michael will be left with great resentment, resentment that he will take out on his children. They’ll grow up in a household where there is no love. If we’re particularly lucky, they’ll grow up to be just as bitter, angry, and resentful as their father was, and they’ll take that out on the next generation. We’ve gotten quite a few souls through generational cycles of abuse, including some souls that otherwise would have been pure and virtuous. \n\nMichael may think that he can make up for his behavior. He may think that he can repent. But nothing save absolute and sincere devotion to our rival can save him. It doesn’t matter how many soup kitchens he works at, how many houses he builds for the poor. His soul will be ours. Besides, few people try to make up for their behavior or try to change. It’s why we’re doing so well.\n\nWe’ll have his soul. It’s inevitable. And you know that. That’s why you’re here. So why not join the Temptation Bureau? It’s a nice, steady office job and you’ll be making a real difference in the world, turning it towards malevolence and evil. Yes, I know it sounds boring, but trust me when I say that you’ll get loads of respect from the demons. Plus, no boiling oil, which is a job perk you really don’t appreciate until you’re in hell. \n\nI know that deep down, you and I have the same beliefs. We believe in evil. We believe that mankind doesn’t embrace its full potential without evil. Look at how far humanity has progressed in the twentieth century alone, and look how much senseless slaughter was committed in that time. Coincidence? We both know that’s not true. Our antagonist may believe that humanity deserves to be loved and forgiven, but we know differently. We know that humanity is at its best when it’s at its worst. Join us, and we can secure a darker, more savage, more malevolent future. Together, we’re stronger.\n\nHey, you might even say that this is your deal with the Devil! So what’s it going to be?", "\"Hey, you coming?\"\n\nI looked up from my laptop. \"Just a sec, gotta print something.\"\n\nAbby made a small clicking sound with her tongue. \"You'd better hurry up. They're all in there already. Boss is getting antsy.\"\n\n\"Head in first,\" I replied, clicking the button at the bottom of the dialogue box as I stood up. \"I'll be right there. Just gotta grab my stuff.\"\n\n\"Make it fast,\" Abby said.\n\n\"I'm moving at the speed of ink and toner,\" I retorted, heading to the copy area.\n\nAbby shook her head and walked off, coffee mug and tablet in tow.\n\nA few seconds later, I stepped into the boardroom. I ignored all the heads looking at me, moving to my usual seat with one part studied nonchalance and two parts no-longer-giving-a-fuck.\n\nAt the head of the room, Lucy tapped one manicured fingernail against the table. \"I'm so glad you can finally join us,\" she said, flatly. \"Do we need to have another conversation about the importance of punctuality?\"\n\nI held up the stack of stapled presentations in my hand, waving the sheets defensively. \"Sorry, boss. Had some last minute changes to the PowerPoint.\"\n\n\"Ah,\" Lucy said, \"and you just had to print your slides out for everyone?\"\n\n\"Well, yeah,\" I answered, \"gotta kill more trees, right?\"\n\nLucy considered this for a moment. Then she nodded magnanimously. \"True,\" she said, acknowledging the point.\n\nI took a copy for myself, then handed the stack of printouts to Abby. She took one, then passed it on. I waited until everyone had the presentation in front of them, then turned to Lucy, expectantly.\n\nShe waved a hand, flicking her fingertips in the air. \"Go ahead, Apollyon.\"\n\n\"Right,\" I said, \"so if you look at slide one, we've got a summary of the numbers. On the right is the expected revenue from the Aziz and Zhang contract, both in number of souls and metaphysical weightage of said souls, for the remainder of this financial year and through to FY2020. On the left is our projected expenditure...\"\n\nAbby interrupted me, stabbing in my direction with the tip of a pen. \"Under the temporal assets column, is that in US dollars?\"\n\n\"Hong Kong dollars - it says HKD in the footnote,\" I replied, suppressing a sigh. \"The deal's in the SAR, Abaddon, we've discussed this. I mean, we could bank it in RMB, but...\"\n\n\"No, no, that's fine, just checking,\" Abby said.\n\n\"Right,\" I said, marshalling my thoughts. \"As I was saying, that's our projected spending in real cash money. In this case it's fairly straightforward, we can just pay the contractors from our local subsidiary's accounts, no need for funds transfer or any supernatural influence.\"\n\nFrom the other side of the table, Bal looked up from the papers. \"Your final profit figures, they're in souls, not human currency. What exchange rate are you using?\"\n\n\"Er, Baalberith? If you turn over, that's on the next slide,\" I said, flipping the page of my own printout. \"The basic calculations are there, but you can check with Dagon and his team in accounting if you need a more precise explanation.\"\n\n\"No, that's okay,\" Bal said, \"I'm good. So long as the auditors are satisfied.\"\n\n\"The numbers look sound,\" Levi spoke up. She was frowning at the columns of numbers, though. \"But have we conducted an ESG assessment on this?\"\n\n\"Remind me again what ESG means,\" Lucy said, arching one eyebrow.\n\nI stared at my boss for a second, wondering if this was some kind of trick question, a rhethorical question, or just genuine management cluelessness. With Lucy, I could never really tell. I decided to err on the side of covering-my-own-ass and took the query at face value. \n\n\"Environmental, social, governance criteria,\" I said. \"And, yeah, I don't really see any issue. The client's been fudging their official ESG reports in the markets they trade in for the past couple years or so. Our own read on it is that they're playing really fast and loose with sustainability and rights in their Asian operations.\"\n\nLevi propped her elbows on the conference table, linking her fingers together. She gave me a sharp look. \"Fast and loose how, exactly?\"\n\n\"They're pretty shit on the ethical impact side,\" Bal interjected. His office had helped me with the desk research. I was glad he was backing me up on this, since it wasn't really my main field of expertise. \"We've got reports of labour abuses on the ground in their plantations, border disputes with the locals, a few dead bodies, that sort of thing. And there's been allegations about illegal oil in their mills and supply chain.\"\n\n\"Right,\" I said, picking up the argument. \"Which is exactly the kind of high risk we're going for. Pretty much a perfect partner for our Indo-Pacific group.\"\n\nLucy made a small humming sound. I looked at her carefully, waiting to see if she had something to add.\n\nBut it didn't seem like any comment was forthcoming. Once I was sure the boss wasn't going to intervene, I returned my attention to the presentation.\n\n\"So,\" I continued. \"If you go forward to slide five, you'll see that...\"", "I hope you don’t think it’s easy being the devil. It’s not. As the human population has exploded, my life has only gotten more hectic. \n\nMost of the principal details have remained the same, of course. I still can’t stand that asshat God, and I sure as hell want that snobland up in the sky shut down. The only problem is, my rival created the heavens and everything else in the fucking universe. So, I’ve been resorting to petty shit for the last few thousand years. I’m not proud, but I’ve pulled off some pretty great moves against the creator. It’s more a jab in the side to him than anything else, but seeing the remnants of his first creation project slaughtered by Hitler was good fun. I knew that one stung; the deal had only called for incredible powers of oratory. The Germans had happily done the rest of their own free will. God was still sore about that, but it was his fault – get lazy on the morality structures and get what you pay for. \n\nIn the years since the Second World War, the human population had exploded dramatically, and my services for enabling destruction and misery were stretched further and further. Sometimes I wondered if I should give up on the whole ‘destruction of good’ thing and just settle down somewhere on the surface, maybe a nice beach in the Bahamas or something. God had tried to play my way once, handcrafting the most beautiful human woman who ever existed, flawless in everyday, and given her the mind of an earnest and devoted wife. The offer really did touch my heart, but you know what was better than all the sex I wanted with the hottest woman alive? Being a fucking angel! So I gave her the mindset of a child sex-abuse victim to make the bedroom more entertaining. \n\nBefore you ask, yes, being evil gets tiring sometimes. Every century I feel God is a little less surprised, and a bit more resigned. He’s barely even around these days, what with the rest of the universe and all that. It seems pretty obvious to me that he’s bitten off more than he can chew, what with the whole billions and billions of galaxies, but I have to give the guy credit: he’s fucking powerful. A lot of my early deeds, he could undo with a timely angel here or there. It took me ages to perfect the art of corrupting humans. And as my plans had become more refined to match His power to unravel them, I’d had to become extremely picky on the humans I struck deals with. I’d skewed toward dramatic, frightening actors recently, culminating in some excellent suffering like 9/11 and the Iraq War. But still, people seemed to believe there was hope; there was justification for faith. It drove me nuts. Decades ago I had crept into Einstein’s dreams and incepted the idea of the atom bomb, and after all this time the mongrels still hadn’t blown themselves up. I know heaven had an anti-evil task force running around the clock to foil my efforts, and I had to admit they were getting good. \n\nSo early in 2015, on a slow day down in the depths of hell, I was pleasantly surprised to see a new opportunity to defile the beauty of the universe. I had just finished up with my partner – did God think I was going to actually marry the bitch? lmao – and slapped her around for a while when a got the call on my Apple watch. \n\n“Sir, there’s a very promising human here, he wants to make a deal,” said my secretary, a fine woman I’d employed ever since her impressive killing spree a few decades back, still unsolved. \n\nA man’s voice came faintly through the intercom, forceful enough to be understood even from a distance. “My time better not be wasted. I make a great many deals – fantastic deals – and I cannot stand being held up.”\n\nI grinned, spinning around in my swivel chair. My office had excellent views of millions of people stuck in eternal torment. Floor-to-cieling windows afforded me box seats to the culmination of human suffering. Other than the stunning location, my office was modest, with a powerful computer running Windows 10 on my desk and a games console currently downloading Battlefront II. One thing that did get to me was the slow internet speeds down to the center of the earth. \n\n“Show him in,” I leaned back, affecting a thoughtful demeanor. It turned out to be unnecessary. My office door opened, and a tall but fat man with incredibly bizarre hair entered. I recognized him immediately, having prodded his ancestors around a few times over the decades, but I never thought he would come seeking me out. \n\n“Mister Satan,” sniffed Donald Trump. “Honor to meet you, this is an incredible resort you have, unbelievable, believe me.” He cast an admiring glance around the great cavern that was the deepest circle of hell. He frowned. “Funny, I expected to see Hitler.”\n" ]	3
	[WP] You go to sleep in your bed, then wake up on the streets of a Cyberpunk city with an empty needle in your arm.	[ "Fear quickly gave way to curiosity and excitement. It’s OK, I told myself, this is what you’ve always wanted! Daydreaming, rather than fitting in, has always been my guiding light in life and now here I was, in a world of wonder and possibilities, one I’d only ever been able to explore through books, films, and games. How many nights had I gone to bed wishing that precisely this would happen… \n\nIt all looked so familiar, like taking a walk through Manhattan for the first time after having seen so many episodes of Friends. The flickering neon lights, the cold drizzle, reflections in the puddles, and gigantic holograms cut through with lanes of traffic looming overhead. The smell was not quite what I had imagined, but it was close enough. My forearm throbbed a little where the needle had punctured the skin, so I intuitively applied the nano-band which came conveniently wrapped around the syringe. \n\nI could not wait to tell the other guys – my senses drank this cool cacophony. A cyber-cat outfitted with red eyes observed the alley from a balcony. Self-composting food wrappers scummed in neatly arranged bins. The sight sent a pang of hunger through my innards and I guiltily headed towards a familiar golden arches sign. Today’s promotional menu offered 50 TB of cloud storage with the purchase of a “Big Data Mac” – secret ingredients would assimilate into your blood stream and for 365 days collect and transmit every atom of information regarding your life to corporate HQ. \n\nGreedily chomping down on my meal, I noticed a translucent bluish pattern, in the shape of a circuit board, almost imperceptibly spreading around my forearm. In a moment of deep reflection I understood that I had too easily accepted my new reality and never even asked rudimentary questions. Just how the hell did I end up here? It was too late now, I was pumping my stomach full of chemical McTrackers while whatever was in that needle went to town under my skin… \n\nI had no regrets, I didn’t want to go back to 2017 Europe or change anything. I shared this reality with the likes of Deckard, shadowrunners, Kaneda, Denton, tachikomas, Johnny, and so many of my other favourite characters. Who cares if they take away my privacy, if they slice into my computer brain, if they insert their techno-syndicate tentacles into every crack of my life? All I wanted was to be plugged in, to feel that sweet embrace of an alternative reality, of gliding into a matrix where my avatar could be anything and everything and nobody would judge, nobody would bat an eye if I was a tattooed half-orc with pierced lips and pink hair – I was finally where I wanted to be. " ]	1
	[WP] With a sudden flash of inspiration, a character realizes they're in a work of fiction. Knowing this, they realize their best chance at survival is becoming a protagonist/main character as soon as possible.	[ "Evely continued to comb through her hair furiously, curls snagging repeatedly, but she couldn’t be assed to care. She’d just come to a startling realization. She was in Anne Hart’s love story. Anne Hart, a pallid, plain, determined young soul, was her chambermaid. Evelyn, with her pristine, tawny complexion and immaculate figure, was the beloved goddaughter and ward of the Lord Pallison. Lord Pallison’s son, Desmond, had ever been her childhood friend. A handsome and charismatic character, and despite their longtime friendship and their mutual good looks, they had somehow never entertained romance between them. Even now, living in the same house and seeing him every day, not even an inkling. \n\nThe wooden comb snapped in her thick locks and she cursed aloud. A beautiful woman, she was, and kind, and harboring no feelings of her own, save this sudden anger at the knowledge that she was some side character in a discount Cinderella story. The kind ‘stepsister’ to set the plot apart from its predecessors. Or was she to be some kind of fairy godmother? Unacceptable. Surely she should have her own ambitions. She refused to exist only to further another woman’s romantic goals.\n\nNo, she thought with a sudden rush of calm, carefully picking pieces of wood from her still-wild hair. She would write this story herself, because she was a character. And characters always drive the plot.\n\nShe walked silently across the cold, glossy floors to reach her bedside table, where she found parchment and a piece of charcoal. Evy’s last chambermaid had been illiterate, but somehow she couldn’t clearly remember anything else before Anne turned up in the manor. As though someone had quickly told her a synopsis of her life, instead of having lived it. The feeling resonated as she wrote her letter with renewed clarity. \n\nAs a main character, she was almost certain that Anne would be able to read, despite having lacked opportunity in life. This letter would turn the tide. All it would take was a seed of curiosity.\n\nEvy padded to the door between their adjoining rooms. “Anne, darling, are you awake?”\n\nShe heard shuffling beyond. Of course, the middle of the night was prime real estate for sweeping inner monologue and softly censored fantasies, Evy had known her answer before she asked.\n\nThe door opened to reveal a round, blushing face, framed by limp, dark blonde hair. \n\nDefinitely a main character, Evy reaffirmed, though it may have given many reason to doubt.\n\nShe held the letter to her chest and began her charade, one she may perpetuate for the entire manuscript, but so be it.\n\n“I need your help, Annie, darling. I’m so sorry to wake you.”\n\n“S’alright, Lady Evely,” Anne responded good-naturedly. “Wasn’t even asleep.”\n\n“Oh you’re too kind to me,” Evely said, “but truly won’t you call me Evy?”\n\n“It would be..” Anne seemed unsure, “a bit unorthodox, m’lady.”\n\n“Oh, Annie,” Evy appeared to be bursting with emotion, “I simply can’t contain it any longer. Please, deliver this to Desmond for me. Lord Pallison will be so suspicious if I’m caught by his rooms.. again.”\n\nThe letter was thrust into Anne’s hands and she accepted it with the usual grace of a passive main character who served the purpose of a self-insert.\n\nI bet this in first person, all from her point of view, Evy thought viciously. But even so, there was something vexingly endearing about Anne. \n\n“Oh,” she said, after a long moment of staring at the letter, and likely monologuing to herself the pros and cons of reading it before delivering. Hook, line- “as you say, m.. E-Evy..”\n\nSink her.", "58 pages into a fairly mediocre work of fiction, about mid-page, a page without a paragraph break a woman is described briefly within a much more elaborate establishment of a train car.\n\nThe feeling is initially one of disgust which moves into offense and settles at indignation. The instant she is summarised as a \"pale brunette sitting with her purse in her lap\" she looks up with an expression suggesting she may sneeze. If what she just sensed is true, she is the victim of a major injustice.\n\n Jeremiah steps aboard his morning train. Unable to secure the quiet car, he is resigned to the zoo of animalistic plebeians on the regular car. \n\nIs how this page starts out. A drawn out description of his very effortless look and casual attitude moves on down the page before arriving at the ultimate description of the \"pale brunette sitting with her purse in her lap\".\n\nOn the other side of this, is more painting of Jeremiah's nature. His keen mind is said to have summed up everyone in this car. The Pale Brunette surveys the car to further inspect exactly what could be causing this feeling.\n\n \"A shlub of a man wearing a worn through tee is juggling his two obnoxious spawn in the aisle. It's no wonder to Jeremiah what kind of person he is: a man child saddled with the responsibility of the children he has no interest in while his ex wife gets time in with the new guy. Jeremiah observes his faded tee and notices a mock band- an embarrassing display of corporatisation, made up by the marketing team of K-Mart to make irrelevant dads feel current.\n\nShe is distracted by a little girl who is struggling through the aisle with her father. She's dropped her doll beneath her seat. She reaches down and hands it back to her.\n\n \" Won't they move?\" Jeremiah screams inside his busy mind.\n\nThe little girl is appreciative and says thank you with a child's raw sincerity. She looks up to her father to congratulate him on such a polite daughter but gets stuck on his shirt. It's faded and well worn, but she just knows that logo.\n\n They aren't moving, leaving Jeremiah with a choice between waiting or sitting next to an overweight woman who embodies 'heavy musk' as a descriptor.\n\n\"I know them!\" and she points at the shirt, almost throwing the man aback. In fact he does stumble, but due to his heavy bag throwing him off balance while maintaining his other, smaller girl. He bumps Jeremiah but doesn't notice, instead focusing on the safety of the daughter in his arms.\n\nJeremiah receives a wallop from the man's bag. A wrath builds, but Jeremiah breathes and calms his mind. He breathes again and sits beside the large woman.\n\n\"Big Girl? How do you know Big Girl?\" says Dad. \n\n\"They played at my university bar. Never met another fan.\" PB says. \n\n\"The three of us are the fan club. And we're going to cheer mummy on aren't we, girls?\"\n\n\"Big Girl is still around?\" PB has momentarily forgotten what has irked her, the news of an old memory that continued on despite her forgetting it has warmed her.\n\n\"No, my wife is in the hospital, we are going for our visit. Lucy has--\" the baby starts to cry, \"we're looking for a bathroom, we should go.\"\n\n\"I'm sorry, oh-- pass on a fan's well wishes.\"\n\nThe 3/4 of a happy family trudge up the aisle and disappear into the next car. The Pale Brunette relaxes back into her seat. She's about to remember her mission. \n\nDad of the year finally gets a clue and moves on. Jeremiah takes another deep breath... The Musk. Au Da Fatseaux\n\nAnother pang of nearby judgement being unduly dolled out. This one so heinous, it's no longer a matter of indignation and the correcting of a slightly shallow summary, it's a matter of respect. But nothing has happened. Not really.\n\n Jeremiah has to move, the car is full as far as he can see. He toys with with just breathing through his mouth but decides against it when he realises he not too long ago rinsed with mouth wash, leaving his tongue a canvas upon which any heavy odour can become a taste.\n\nAgain. There's the judgement again. PB stands, realises it was a little dramatic and turns it into a sort of calisthenic stretch. The woman beside her jumps from her sleep. PB apologises and takes her seat.\n\nJeremiah spots the pale brunette that seemed pretty cute when he boarded jump up. A chance at freedom, the smell couldn't be there. She takes her seat. She's not THAT cute it turns out.\n\nRage. A cold rage. But no origin has been pinned down, but the signal is becoming clearer. The feelings she has received now have words. MUSK and not THAT cute. The first keyword tied to that feeling of protection for another from a moment ago, and the second a further reduction of herself. The train is stopping. \n\n****\n\nBooks work by allotting a words to a page, these events have taken up one whole page of this book, so now is time for it to turn. The person reading this book received it upon recommendation from a friend, so has given it a red hot go, but it's worn thin so the reader has tossed it over their shoulder, deciding they don't like that particular friend that much. \n\nThis does not end our story however.\n\nThe words remain printed, so PB and Jeremiah still live. The writer of the book didn't write to much of a page turn and did t actually get around to the train stopping for another two pages. To save the description, I'll let you hit the ground running.\n\nThe train is stopping, no seat remains completely free, Jeremiah decides he'll assess his options for seating when people arise and flirts with hopping cars on the platform. The heat is turned up for PB because his survey returns further reductions of the inhabitants of the car. Sympathetic passengers as PB sees them. People on laptops getting in some work, readers flicking through various page turners like Stephen King or Harry Potter. She fights the urge to scream. She fears for her sanity. She is well intact.\n\nThe train is stopping. The casual readers of Misery and Goblet of Fire stand. HOPE. Jeremiah stands to secure his asylum. He's stuck. His satchel is caught around The Musk's hoof. He tugs, she stirs. He motions to her, she is slow on the uptake. She notices and offers nominal help. He frees his strap and makes to occupy the desperately sought seat. It's taken. He turns, The Musk has a new partner. The three new passengers are a snot nosed kid, a small Asian woman and her husband. He looks around. The pale brunette. She's alone. She definitely not that cute up close. Jeremiah doesn't like older women.\n\nJeremiah sits next to PB. The rage is now manifest. This boy. This hipster. This Bob Dylan wannabe. She hadn't noticed him up until now, but she's sure he is the reason for her revelation. Above him is an opaque bubble, as if he were Garfield. A transcript of recent events can be seen in it. He is her problem. \n\nHis messy, curly hair. His skinny legs, too skinny to fill out skinny jeans. His eager nonchalance. His judgement.\n\nIts wrong. But it's all right. It's objective. It IS the world. She only exists because of his existence. She resents her own existence. Nothing is her fault. Her lack of complexity isn't hers. Her existence isn't hers. It's his. She's scared of him. How much does he know? If she knows this, he must, he's the protagonist after all.\n\nThe pale brunette melts into her seat at his presence.\n\nShe does. She doesn't want to, but she does.\n\nShe flips her hair\n\nShe does again. Again, she doesn't want to. \n\nJeremiah slides his glasses down and looks towards the poor, flustered girl. \"Where you headed, sweetheart?\"\n\nShe wants to say it's none of his business, but a struggle isn't even possible.\n\n\"The city\" and she blushes. He smiles, assurance in his eyes, telling her she doesn't have to be embarrassed.\n\nShe is embarrassed. A girl as complex as she has recently become goes more sophisticated places than \"The City\". She doesn't blush in the presence of 19 year olds postured as this eras answer to Benjamin Braddock. She is not Mrs. Robinson. She is not Elaine either. They're simple. They have names. She does not, she cannot be summed up. He looks at her still. \n\n\"Then you're goin' where I'm goin'. \"\n\nShe knows that. She can live with that. But she doesn't want a name. If she has a name, she is not complex. She would be shallow. She does not want a name, because without one she decides who she is and that means more to her than who she is to him and the reader. She wants to remain no one to anyone, but everything to herself. \n\n\"So... what's your name?\"*" ]	2
If the wording is confusing I'm sorry. I'm very tired but had this idea come to me.	[WP] Everytime you go to sleep, you rule a fantasy kingdom. Time moves faster there so every night you return a century has passed.	[ "At this point, I’m not sure which is reality.\n\nMy eyes fluttered opened, only to be greeted by darkness. My throat was parched. It always is whenever I awaken here. Grabbing the sides of my resting chamber, I pulled myself up.\n\nHungry...so hungry. Every time I’m living the “other” life, I convince myself that it’s just a dream, that I simply imagine it to feel so realistic.\n\nI delude myself...\n\nFor every time I awaken on this side, the pangs of hunger and the weakness of my limbs remind me of a simple truth: Dreams don’t physically hurt. At this point, I’ve stopped caring which is real, if either is fake at all.\n\nI knew the chamber well enough to make my way through the dark. Grasping a familiar handle, I opened the door to see why no one was present for my awakening. The attendants were normally vigilant in their watch. Perhaps...did I awaken off time? Was that even possible? I had only done this 6 or so times, but there had never been deviation before.\n\nAs I swung open the heavy doors, inlaid with bronze and platinum, I found my answers in the empty hall before me. Absolutely barren, even the furnishings were gone. The only remnant of the glory that once filled this place was the tree in the center. Though, it’s noble stature had warped somewhat over the century. I craned my head up to see that it had pierced the roof of the building. They were supposed to regularly trim.\n\nBut these issues would have to be addressed later. I shuffled over to the bath, noting the deterioration. It would seem my fortress of a palace had been abandoned for at least a few hundred years. Structurally, it would last. I made sure it was built to last till the end of time, were it properly maintained.\n\nThe bath was tapped into an underwater hot spring, and the steam rising from the surface wold me it was still in working order. I made to submerge my entire body, letting the waters embrace me as I pondered what had happened. When I broke the surface and attempted to settle myself in, however, a faint whisper caught my attention.\n\nIt came from the changing area, which I could not see due to the partitions. Quickly snapping my head towards the source of the sound, I called out “Is anyone there?”\n\nIn response, I heard the shuffling of several bodies. There were 5, maybe even 6 people. At least 1, if not 2, were smaller; likely children. Looking about, I was lucky to find a garment to cover my nether regions. My being naked in the bath would normally not be an issue, but I wasn’t so certain these were my servants.\n\n3 of them emerged. The leader was a woman dressed in an assortment of hide and leather armor. The entire outfit clashed, and screamed of a less than honest living. “You wouldn’t happen to be my servants, would you?” I asked, raising my eyebrows in bemusement.\n\nThe leader and the bigger man next to her drew their blades, the leader wielding two. The last one drew a smaller dagger and held his free hand over it. Probably an Enchanter. “Looks like you stumbled into the wrong place buddy. This here’s ours.” The leader spoke with a wicked gleam in her eyes as she wound up to pounce “Sucks to be you!”\n\nJust as they were about to advance, I threw my head back and roared in laughter. Confused, they stood still for a moment as I responded “Yours? I don’t think some bandi-” I didn’t get to finish my sentence as they struck. Fun fact: Most people do not, in fact, let you finish your monologue.\n\nI was able to grab the leader’s blades before they perforated me, but as such was occupied when the brunt of the bigger ones attacked. Was pretty obvious they were making openings for the mage to stab me with some curse. Which he did…\n\nMy face distorted into one of pain and regret as I felt the arcane energy burning my blood from the inside. Their expressions were so smug... “No, please!” I begged them as I fell to my knees. The woman yanked her blades free from my weakened grip and drove her blade straight through my torso. I coughed up blood as I gasped “Don’t...do this…don’t...make it...so...”\n\nAs I looked her in the eyes, my face shifted back to its usual stoic aloofness “...boring” Before they even had the chance to be confused, I quickly grasped the neck of the larger brute. With a quick motion, my fingers dug into his skin, and ripped out that chunk of his flesh. He probably had a moment to realize his death.\n\nThe woman’s face twisted into quizzical, then comprehension. I grabbed her face before it distorted into fear. Lunging forward and down, I slammed the back of her head into the marble floor. Once was enough to crack her head open. I slammed it twice more just for good measure.\n\nShocked and fearful, the spellcaster fell backwards. I took my time stepping towards him as menacingly as I could. Have to keep up the image, after all. Also the burning sensation in my veins made me lethargic. “How are you still walking?!” He screamed, though I wasn’t sure he really cared about the answer. But again, image, “Tell me,” I asked while looking down at my hands, and wiped the blood off them onto the rag I wore “What sort of insane monster could bare handedly kill 3 people while a curse runs through his veins?” The dumb expression on his face revealed he wasn’t quite as intelligent as stereotypes of casters would have one believe “Okay, how about this: Are there any rumors about this place?” As it began to dawn on him, his eyes widened in absolute terror as he quietly mouthed instinctively “The Overlord...”\n\n“Oh good,” I smiled placidly “So they do remember me.” He moved, probably to beg for his life. I won’t rightly know as I smashed his head in right then and there.\n\nSurrounded by a bloody mess, I walked to their original hiding place to confirm my suspicions. Sure enough, there was not 1, but 2 children, huddling in the corner. “Shit,” I spoke aloud. I don’t kill children. Don’t like them either, but I prefer to avoid killing kids. \n\n“The hell am I going to do with you?...\"", "“He begins to stir, Captain,” spoke a low rank soldier.\n\n“So it seems the legends are true,” Captain said, stroking his beard. “My great-grandfather spoke fondly of The Sleeping One, but what sort of a ruler abandons his people?”\n\n“Captain, you don’t mean to say-“\n\n“I only make musings, boy. When you get to be my age you’ll ramble. I suppose that we should go and greet him.”\n\nCaptain rounded up a small armed group. Not for any aggressive reasons, but for the ornamental ritual that was passed down through the lineage of the King’s guard. Fiery red cloth adorned sunset gold plated armor, a symbol of the sun rising once again.\n\n“Everyone, be mindful of all that’s happened over the last century,” whispered Captain at the door to the Great Resting Chamber, “He’ll learn everything in the time to come.”\n\nCaptain took a deep breath in and heaved open the two doors into the Chamber.\n\nA thunderous voice shook the small squadron. “Has it been 100 years already?”\n\nNot a single man spoke to the roaring voice. All could only look on in awe. \n\n“Excuse me, are you the captain?” The King pointed to Captain.\n\n“Y-yes sir. I-I”\n\n“There’s no need to worry,” said the King as he laughed. “You’re handling this well. Out of my ten or so awakenings, I assure you that this one is going well.” The King gave Captain a thumbs-up of approval.\n\nOne of the guards in the book muttered under his breath. “What does that gesture mean?” \n\n“For the first order of business, please escort me to the tombs. I need to see them after my long sleep.”\n\n—-\n\nIn a distant room in the castle, a small bookish man burst into a room with a stack of scrolls tucked haphazardly under his arms.\n\n“Archmage, Archmage!” He ran through the library shouting this phrase over and over again.\n\n“I am here, boy,” spoke a short, religiously dressed man.\n\n“Archmage, the King has woken up.”\n\nHe stroked his beard in thought at the news. “Has he now? This ruins everything. I was just about to find out the key to keeping that petulant oaf asleep forever.”\n\nHe rummies through several pages on his desk before coming to a torn page held together with wax. “Squire, without this King, we would have progressed farther than we have ever imagined. He only conquers and spreads his grasp farther and farther. Little care is given to the studies... We have to stop him.”", "This time the world had dragons. About time too. You'd think that having ruled in hundreds of different fantasy worlds that more dragons would be present. \n\nI had a discussion with the man in charge of my mounts regarding the issue. \"Why is it that all the world's I rule, so few of them have dragons?\"\n\nIt's quite possible that he didn't know the answer, but I had a faint suspicion the stuttering also included complete incomprehension. Clearly, the citizens of this world we're less knowledgeable than ones previous. How disappointing. I did, however, assign the research and development unit to start looking into dimension portals. If I was lucky, they'd end up finding a link between other worlds before I woke up.\n\nI did learn that the mounts I possessed were captured by pure luck. It seemed that a rider will take over it's flight if they manage to land on one. Once on ground, if they're tethered, they won't go away. Like an elephant on a rope, I mused.\n\nThree years later and my kingdom was flourishing. The people were content with my lax rule (probably helped that I was lucid dreaming and could influence such things) and the research departments were churning out new, fancy, life-essential gadgets. Meanwhile, I prodded my underlings to map out dragon distributions, mating conditions and optimal bait. \n\nKingdom: Alvezt\n\nTitle: Reggie, The Conqueror, and later The Benevolent\n\nI scribbled into my dream diary. They had assumed I suffered a rather large shock upon falling down in the stables while attempting to pat my favourite mount. The court physicians said that I would be better in no time. Having seen the documentation that existed to prior, it seemed as if the ruler who's place I had taken was of a similar sort of person. \n\nI sent peace envoys to the neighbouring kingdoms to inform them I had moved my pursuits from clearing the Seufian and the pirates from the surrounding seas to more scholarly interests now that I held the leaders of the largest tribes hostage. The pirates realized it would be more comfortable to work as fisherman. \n\nI reached up to stretch a bit. Tying myself to the harnesses on the mounts in my dream had some lasting impact it seemed. It was usually minor stuff. A leg cramp, a sore rear from sitting too much, an overfull stomach just after a banquet. This time there were thin welts on my arms and legs where I had been lashed on to the dragon. \n\nIncidentally, I was mid-flight when I had been jolted awake. I checked the time.\n\n4:30am. The red LEDs glared back.\n\nI slid the diary into my bedside shelf and repositioned my blanket pile. \n\nI slid into a rather ash filled world, dust choking the air and a blanket of heat pressing down. I took a couple of moments to regain my breath as I took stock of my surroundings. Warzone, perhaps? \n\nIf so, this wouldn't be the first. \n\n\"You, what's going on right now?\" I grabbed the shoulder of a man passing by. Information first. \n\nThe man shook off my hand roughly, \"Can't you see that I'm trying to go somewhere?\"\n\n\"Is this normal? What are you running from? Who is the ruler of this place?\" \n\n\"Are you daft? The world is on fire and you want to discuss our benevolent and absent leader?\" He laughed, coughing as he did so. \n\n\"I'm a little confused,\" pouting, I crossed my arms. \"I must have knocked myself in the head. Just came to not ago.\" \n\nThe man sobered up slightly. \"Well kiddo, it came, it saw, it blew-up the kingdom after our benevolent king managed to vanish midflight.\"\n\n***\n\nThanks for the prompt! " ]	3
	[WP] In the year 2040, humanity lands on Mars for the first time. When leaving the shuttle, and to their shock, the astronauts find a familiar red and gold flag planted on the surface. "SPQR"	[ "There were legions. Stretched as far as the eye could see.\n\nThe armor was familiar, with shapes and motifs pulled from the past and perverted into the present. \n\nThe blades were short, with edges that blurred and vibrated.\n\nThe man at its head wore a wreath of olive leaves, and an air of command. A man who could only be Ceasar.\n\nCeasar approached to the man who thought we would be the first Martian with nothing resembling fear. He placed his hand on the man's helmet and spoke.\n\n\"Children, you have left your cage.\"\n\nThe words echoed through his head. Through his comm link. And through the speakers of every television and phone and radio on earth.\n\nAnd then his hand cracked the delicate shell of the helmet, releasing the air within.\n\n__________________________________________________\n\nThe cloaks came down immediately. Space that had once seemed both vast and empty was now neither. Channels that once carried only the echoes of the stars were now drowned out by Latin.\n\nMan had gone to the stars to find out that they were not alone. And that they were not wanted.\n\nA world searched for a Hannibal.", "Surface of Mars, Valles Marineris, 2020, 10:30AM CST\n------------------------------------------------------------------------------\n\n\nThe flag of Rome waved red and gold on the surface of Mars. It was attached to a rust-red obelisk, carved of Martian stone. Astronaut Alexa Fischer couldn't read Latin fluently, only what she knew from medical training. But she knew what Roman ruins looked like.\n\nWhat stretched before her were Roman ruins. \"Control,\" she said, breathless, \"do you see this?\"\n\n\"We see it,\" the response came slowly. If this had been an alien civilization, she guessed that there would be cheers from Houston. Instead, there was dead silence. The stone of the ruins was all rust-red - they were covered in enough dust to be confused with stones from their surveillance satellite. That part was easy to understand. But anything was entirely out of the realm of comprehension. \n\n\"What does it mean?\" Alexa asked. Her breath was hot, clouding her helmet.\n\n\"We don't know,\" Control said, \"do you have enough air to investigate?\" She checked the meter on her wrist. \"A few hours left. Am I clear?\"\n\nThe man, Dexter from control, breathed out. \"You're clear. Let's find out what the fuck is going on.\"\n\nAlexa leapt forward, coming down softly in the martian dust. She stepped towards a huge roman archway, carved with scenes of gods and warriors - or so she thought. As she ran her hands along the reliefs, clearing them of dust, she saw something else: scenes of men that looked like gods, rising into the sky to conquer planets. Not just Mars. Planets.\n\n\"How is this possible?\" Alexa said, mostly to herself. \n\nDexter's voice came through, but it was a mess of static. \"Interfe-rence-Lexa-\"\n\n\"Control?\" Alexa asked. Could solar radiation be interfering with her Comm? Her meters said no. And then her meters went dark.\n\nSuddenly, a feeling washed over her. A feeling of... curiosity? Confusion? She could feel a presence to her right. She turned her spacesuit slowly in the low gravity.\n\nA girl stood in front of her. She had white hair, olive skin, and a proud, Roman nose. She must have been no older than 17, but her hair was She wore no spacesuit; her white hair floated around her head in the open space, set against the black martian sky. Solar radiation, deadly solar radiation, bounced off of her, making her seem incandescent. It was uncanny, seeing this vulnerable creature in the harsh nothing of space.\n\nA voice spoke directly into her mind. Don't go in, it said.\n\n\"What?\" Alexa asked.\n\nDon't go in, the girl's voice said again. Somehow, at the same time but in another voice, it said: Ne intraveritis.\n\nThe Comm continued to struggle. No message came through, only static. Alexa took a step towards the girl.\n\nThe white-haired girl stared at her, impassive, and then lifted off the ground. Alexa glimpsed her eyes - they were more beautiful than anything she had ever seen. They swirled with incandescent purple, green, and blue, like the surface of some swirling gas giant. The girl floated for a while, just staring at the Astronaut. Then she turned slowly in the air and soared into the blackness of space. \n\nAlexa was left wondering what had just happened. What any of this meant. Had her oxygen depleted so drastically that her perception was impaired? Were these hallucinations?\n\nThe Comm returned to normal, suddenly crackling back to life. \"Sergeant Fischer, report! Dust storm headed your way, magnitude ten! You have to run, now!\"\n\nAlexa whipped her head towards the sky beyond the ruins. She could see the beginnings of a wall of red dust and black gravel, barreling towards her on the martian plains. Her heart stopped. That would tear her apart. Her mind went numb for a moment, because deep in the storm, she thought she saw something. Something slick, with hundreds of black limbs, writhing, roiling. \n\nShe turned and ran. But not before she saw, carved into the massive archway, the end of the Roman saga: a creature of pure darkness, black tentacles leveling cities on alien worlds. \n\nShe heaved sparse breaths into her helmet. The colony was still so far.\n\n\n Beneath Europa, Nova Theris Colony, 2020, 1PM CST\n----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------\n\n\n\"They've reached Nova Pompeii,\" Octavia said. She stood before her stepfather, the Imperator Andromedus, in his office. A few hours ago, she'd been warning an Earthling not to enter the ruins of Nova Pompeii. With good reason.\n\n\"And has the creature discovered them?\" Andromedus said. He stood looking through the wall of pillars that lined his office. Beneath, his colony - the last surviving Roman colony - glowed in their cavern. It was beautiful, with white Europan marble built into impossibly high temples, stunning squares, unrivaled art. Over the past two millennia Nova Theris had thrived beneath the surface of Europa, developing technology almost indistinguishable from magic, technology that allowed them to swim among the stars like space was a warm sea. \n\nBut Nova Theris was a beautiful prison. All the other Romans were dead.\n\n\"Presumably,\" Octavia said. \"Their primitive star-walker almost went through the gates. There's no way the Dark One did not see her.\"\n\nThe Imperator sighed. Octavia new his decision was difficult to make, but also knew what he would choose. There was only one choice. \n\n\"Two thousand years we've waited for our brothers on Earth to grow enough to find us, to help us defeat the Dark One and reclaim the stars. But they are not ready. If they lead the Darkness back to Earth, then they will surely be destroyed. We cannot risk it.\"\n\nOctavia nodded. \"They must not escape. I will not fail you father. By nightfall, the Earthling colony will be destroyed.\" She turned and strutted through the chamber doors, going to ready her men.\n\n--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------\nr/TomTeller" ]	2
	[WP] A global virus has caused 90% of the population to gradually become mute and invisible. Now you're showing signs of infection, slowly losing your identity and voice.	[ " Nobody could figure out the origin of where it came from or the rapidity with which it consumed the population. Large clusters of people suddenly lost the ability to speak. The healthcare system of every nation was under immense strain trying to combat this muteness that was cast over the globe. \n\n Around the same time as the pandemic went global, a small research group was looking beyond our planet. They picked up on warning signs and irregularities in light waves and distortion in space time. They begged and pleaded for government aid. Any semblance of some kind of general warning to the public. Even with the pandemic causing widespread hysteria, the governments were going to give them what they wanted. \n\nThat was until the disappearances began. \n\n Millions. Gone overnight. Just disappeared as if they never existed. Multiple cases were recorded of certain body parts missing but the whole of the body still remained. Doctors and nurses were shocked to see patients torso's 'floating' or a pair of legs walking as if walking on their own. Then suddenly, the torso would vanish completely. Reports of people being hit by something 'invisible' started popping up everywhere. People were in awe when they came to the conclusion that the sickness was the cause of this invisibility. \n\nThe small research group was cut in half due to the disease. Some that were still there were even beginning to succumb to the invisibility of the disease. However, a young man quite unaffected by the pandemic worked tirelessly attempting to assess the threat level of the anomalies they witnessed on a daily. Whilst passing a ball with his disappearing colleague he passed the ball as the colleague fully became invisible. Just as he did the alarms went off in the observatory signalling that a large entity had entered the solar system. He begin to panic. The sheer size of the entity was mind boggling. The equipment in the observatory kept receiving jumbled signals that sounded like beating drums. The young man panicked but felt a hand on his shoulder. It was his invisible colleague, although he wasn't sure which one.\n\nIt clicked for him then, as he monitored the movements of this entity, that this disease could be a way of protecting them. He remembered how the ball had missed his colleague's hand entirely, as if it wasn't even there. The young researcher sent out a signal on as many wavelengths as he knew. He had to alert those unaffected by the disease. \n\nStay quiet, hide if you can. Impending threat. Disease may be our salvation. \n\nHe put the message on blast. Rushing to his car and towards a telecommunications centre. There was no time for bureaucracy, the message needed to be heard, quickly. \n\nSome hours later \n\nIt had worked, for the most part. The message had been sent worldwide on every available outlet. Those unaffected hopefully had gotten the message. \n\nA groaning could be heard loud and clear from wherever you were that day. A ship, vast and menacing simply appeared in the sky. It was unmoving. Almost as if it was calculating. Days passed and it still hovered there, waiting for something. Then suddenly, just as it had appeared, a large groaning could be heard and a great wind flowed over the planet. The sky was clear. They had left. \n\nMany months later\n\nPeople began reappearing. The world filled with the sound of human voices again. The disease itself was given the name salvation and we had more than enough samples to recreate it when the time called for it. \n\n*** \n\nHope you liked it! Other stories over at r/TheYogiBearhaWrites", "As far as virus's go, this one had always baffled scientists and was unique in its progression.\n\nThe initial symptoms so subtle that one would never notice, no sign that your body was fighting the virus. You would wake up daily and drink your coffee, watch your TV... without the slightest clue in the world.\n\nThe symptoms would always start showing within the second week, people telling you that you looked pale. Others asking you if you could speak up, that they couldn't hear you.\n\nOf course the initial scare was always there. \"Am I infected?\" The only thoughts that would run through my head, as I denied the possibility, that perhaps the others were only weak of hearing, or that I should get more sun.\n\nYou'd never thing it could happen to you, until it does. I went to support groups, some more faded than others, already the look in their eyes vacant, as I could see through them as if looking through glass. They knew it too, the way I looked at them. They weren't shy at that point, they didn't need to be, they would stare right back, with their cold and empty stares, accepting of whatever fate life had in store for them, and a look, a haunting look that said yes, this will happen to you as well.\n\nOver the weeks I remained mostly at home, whenever I left the house I would wear a hood to conceal myself from prying eyes and their haunting whispers. \"The fading,\" they would call us, avoid us like the plague, the funniest part being that even though we were still there, transparent and fading, they would pretend like we were already gone, like we never existed in the first place.\n\nSects began to form preaching that the virus was a test from God, that those infected were chosen, fading away to join God in Eden as his chosen, while all else would rot and fester as corpses in the ground.\n\nSoon I walked the halls and streets as if a ghost. I still visited the support groups diligently, now having taken the seats of those who disappeared before me, I wondered if their bodies had entered some ethereal plane, if they still attended as they always did, and if I was sitting inside of them.\n\nI carried on the torch, now watching those who stared at me the way I used to stare at those on the brink of vanishing. Is that how I looked at them? I wondered, as I stared at the newcomers, their eyes betraying a deep seating trepidation that took hold of their very being. A pleading stare, that begged to whatever higher being would lend its hear, to spare them.\n\nI remember one of the final days where I reached for a glass of water, at first I wondered if the glass simply slipped from my hand, but I could see it, I was almost gone, incapable of ever interacting with the physical world again. Yet, I wasn't scared, with disinterest I stared at the broken shards that littered my kitchen floor, numb to the fear of what happens next.\n\nIn my final moments I retreated onto my bed, laying down with eyes closed, waiting for the gentle embrace of oblivion to claim me. I wondered... would it be like an endless dream?" ]	2
	[WP] Society severely frowns upon violence, each infraction resulting in a lined tattoo on your face. You awake with amnesia, and are restrained. A man timidly approaches, and he has more lines than you can count, but he's looking at you with a level of fear you've never seen.	[ "OOC - This is a dark story. It does not portray my views on anything, it is purely a work of fiction and should not be imitated. Enjoy!\n\n\nI woke up after a long night of partying, driving through the town while wasted and doing general stupid drunk stuff. My head hurt, so I looked to my side. Oh look, whiskey! Come to me! I drank a bit more and happily sighed. My head was still throbbing, but I did not care at all. I felt the familiar feeling in my bladder, so I got out of the bed and...lets say I danced...for the lack of better word, to the toilet. The last night was REALLY epic. And by that I mean it was the most epic night I ever had. After doing the toilet stuff...do not ask for details...I washed my face and saw some black lines on the mirror. I wiped the mirror and without caring for the result, I walked to get something for breakfast. The liquid bread got into my system easily and I felt that vibe of the night life return to me. The music begun to play in my head, the dance moves, the crazy driving through the town, laughing with my friends at the dumbest stuff. Good times.\n\nAfter getting dressed into my less dirty clothes and dealing with the bottles, a doorbell rang. I looked through the door viewer and cheered. One of my good friends came! Party for two! He looked a little buzzed and nervous, but he aaaaalways looked stoned and drunk. I opened the door and greeted him with a warm hug and a glass of...whatever bottle I had next to the door.\n\n\"Listen man, you have to listen to me. The last night...we have done a lot of crazy stuff, but this was too much\" he said, completely panicked, while I had a stupid grin on my face and enjoyed the taste of...cherry? Sherry? Bah, don't care.\n\n\"Whats wrong, little buddy, did you turn too old? A little bit of fun never killed anyone. And it was righteous! Man, we should hang out more!\"\n\n\"Fk that, I am not going anywhere with you again. I am done with this. I am going to get cleaned up! Do not worry, I will not turn you in, just...leave me alone! Do not party with me ever again! If I ever see you, I do not care, I will even look to the ground to avoid you and I will run away from you. I do not even know why I came here...shit\".\n\nThis guy is a total lightweight. He gets slightly buzzed and he spouts some nonsense. I try to wrap my hand around his shoulders to bring him for a hug, but he looks like I have smallpox or something. A little bit of liquid potatoes solves all the problems, I tell to myself, nodding proudly and getting along with my plan. But, he might have a point. I really need to pick my friends better. He drank only a shot of...piss probably and got weird.\n\n\"You probably do not know...or you do not even care, but you have killed...\".\n\n\"Whatever, people die every day. Go write on your social whatever you are into how much you pity their demise. The world is spinning, the room is spinning and I need another one\".\n\n\"You have killed nine hundred people! IN ONE NIGHT, you crazy bastard!\".\n\nI whistle approvingly \"Nice, what is the high score?\". He just stares at me blankly. His shaking hand is going for his phone and he dials a number. I do not like when people who are not me dial a number near me, so I bottle him. The harmful kind of bottling. The one from which you do not get up. Luckily for me, the bottle was empty. You never waste a good drink.\n\n\"Lets see what the tellie will tell me\". I turn the TV on and bang my head to the music inside my head. Ahhhh, it feels so good to let off some stress. I look at the poor guy laying on my floor \"Hey, you should chill some more! The good vibes will carry you through. Instead, you came here, deathly pale faced, scared for your life after seeing me, with 25 long lines across your face and say some non-cool stuff to me. Not cool buddy. Maybe all you had to do was...get a drink\". I smile to myself and feel a tiny burning feel in my face. I keep feeling it when I do cool stuff. I hope it is not some VD that I caught. GOOOOOOO internet!\n\nAfter browsing all the cool stuff, I stumble upon an article I liked. Lots of photos with cool guys. Not as cool as me. \"If you feel a burning sensation in your face, it means you are comitting an infraction. The more infractions you will commit, the more complex the resulting lines will be. After the whole face is covered by the lines, the lines \"zoom\" out and new lines will be created. This repeats until death\". Awesome! What does that mean. I click on a convenient database and check out my name. The number 1! Oh, there is this cool video of me dancing in the prison. Mmmmm, good times. They were not happy to dance with me. But hey, I danced my way out from there. The video name \"Daranged lunatic massacres a high security prison\" sounds pretty metal to me. My phone rings, so I pick it up. A friend calls me \"Hey, where are we going to dance tonight?\" he asks. I clap my hands \"Well, there is always the club called Pale Moonlight. Lets party!\". \"Cool beans, do not forget to bring some protection. The ladies there are really rough\". I nod and turn off the call after agreeing to meet up. Oh, the beautiful music people make when I dance with them. Epic!", "Damn. Where am I?\n\nMy head was throbbing and my vision was blurry, but I could see the figure of a man crouching next to me. He jumped backwards as I started to push myself off of the hard cot I had been unconscious on.\n\n\"Whoa there, friend, easy, easy. You're cuffed to the wall, so you won't be able to stand, and there are armed guards standing by if you want to escape.\" He stood as far from me as possible, and his hands were positioned as if to ward me off. \"Do you, ah, want to escape?\"\n\nI sat up on the cot as well as I could. \"If it's all the same to you, I'd rather not be chained to a wall, but there's probably a decent reason for me being in here, right?\"\n\nHe breathed a sigh of relief. \"Thank god. Yeah, there's a good reason.\" My vision was clearing up, and as he wiped the sweat off his brow, I started.\n\n\"Jesus! What did you do? Looks like the Cain law hit you pretty hard!\" His face was covered in a lattice of sharp black lines: one for every person he had physically harmed. There was almost as much ink as unblemished skin.\n\n\"You're damn right about that. The day I was tattooed was damn near the most painful day of my life.\" He sounded almost proud. \n\n\"I'm Michael Crompton. I'm sure you've heard of me.\" He looked at my blank face for a second. \"Well, probably not, in your state...\"\n\n\"And what is my state, exactly?\" I asked.\n\n\"Confusion!\" He laughed raucously. \"Ah, that one won't get old any time soon. At any rate, you're the dream of psychologists, the bane of law enforcement, and the biggest reason that people think the Cain law doesn't work.\"\n\n\"Am I...?\" I touched my face.\n\n\"Son, your face is blacker than an actor in an 1850s travelling show singin' about the merits of Jim Crow. You're a real freak. I'll let the good doctor tell you more.\"\n\nHe walked over to the solid steel door of the cell and knocked twice. \"Hey doc, he seems fine today. Can I get out of here?\"\n\n\"Why doesn't the doctor come in here in the first place?\" I asked, befuddled.\n\n\"I'm expendable,\" he said seriously. The door opened and he walked out without further explanation.\n\nAfter a long and complicated process involving a plethora of chains, cuffs, heavy-duty doors, and more armed guards than I could keep track of, I found myself sitting at a stainless steel table with a slightly balding man in a slightly sweat-stained cornflower blue dress shirt.\n\n\"Are you the doctor?\" I asked.\n\nHe ignored my question. \"On a scale from one to ten, how angry do you feel right now?\"\n\n\"Uh... two? Three? I'd feel better if I got some answers...\"\n\nHe refused to even look up from the piles of paper in front of him. \"If you had to choose between red, blue, and green, which would you choose?\"\n\n\"...green? I don't understand-\"\n\nThe man scribbled a few notes and reshuffled the pages. \"How many guards did you encounter between the time you woke up and now?\"\n\n\"Look, I don't-\"\n\nHe glared at me. \"Answer my questions, sir, and I will get to your questions soon enough.\" He said \"sir\" with so much venom that it sounded physically painful to him. \"How many guards?\"\n\n\"I guess... twenty or so. I didn't count.\"\n\nHe held up some cards. \"Tell me what you see in these.\"\n\n\"A flower... two horses... a dancer?\" He put down the cards and pushed a picture across the desk towards me. It was a man, clearly dead, on the side of a road.\n\n\"Do you recognize this man?\"\n\nI stared at the picture for a pregnant minute as memories flooded back into my head.\n\n\"Yes,\" I whispered.\n\n\"Who is he?\" the man asked. \n\n\"Johnathon Ellis. He was mugging a woman. I... I didn't mean to kill him.\" I closed my eyes, horrified.\n\n\"Why did you?\"\n\n\"I... it was a bad day, and he was breaking the law, and I just felt... angrier... than normal.\"\n\n\"On a scale from one to ten, how angry were you?\"\n\n\"...I don't know. Five.\"\n\nHe took the picture back and filed it away in a manila folder before sighing deeply.\n\n\"Your name is Daniel Collers. Every day you wake up, you are, as best as we can tell, randomly violent.\"\n\nHe pulled out a graph. \"It's actually a Gaussian distribution. Some rare days, you go catatonic when I show you that picture.\" He pointed at the lower end of the graph. \"Other days, you spit on it and try to tear it up.\" He pointed at the higher end.\n\n\"Most days, however, you are like this. The real Dan Collers, I like to say, not that it matters. We'll never let you out as long as you have the potential of being up here.\" He pointed at the highest point that had been graphed.\n\n\"How angry was I on that day?\" I asked, morbidly curious.\n\nHe sighed again. \"Honestly, we don't know. We graphed you at a seven because you killed the first three people that you saw before we restrained you, and in the interview you answered 'Zero' when I asked.\"\n\nI remembered the way Michael had jumped back when I first awoke. \"Was that the worst day?\"\n\n\"It was the worst since you've been to this facility.\"\n\n\"And before that? Doctor, how many lines are on my face?\"\n\n\"As your caretaker I'm required to inform you that knowing that information could very well be traumatic-\"\n\n\"Doctor.\"\n\nHe said nothing as he pulled a mirror from his pocket and slid it in front of me. I looked into it.\n\nMy face was black. The lines were indistinguishable from one another, and if not for a few spots on my eyelids no one would ever know my true skin color.\n\n\"How many?\" I whispered hoarsely. \n\n\"Five hundred sixty-four identified killed, more wounded.\" The doctor stood up and turned away from me. \"You know the worst part, Dan? The more violent you are, the better you get at it. That amnesia you felt this morning? We do that to you every day just to avoid the possibility of you remembering something on a good day and using it on a bad day.\"\n\n\"That bad?\" I muttered.\n\n\"That bad,\" he agreed. \"But today, not so much.\"\n\nHe turned back to the table and scribbled some more notes. \"Today, you played nice, so I'm giving you more freedoms than you might get on another day. You'll be left unrestrained, mostly. If you agree to help me understand you a bit more, I'll even let you outside for a few minutes. Does that sound fair?\"\n\nI thought over what I had done. \"More than fair, I think. Do we shake on it?\"\n\nHe eyed me nervously. \"I'll take your word for it, if it's all the same to you. Now, with all that unpleasantness done, shall we take a stroll in the courtyard? The gardeners work hard while you sleep to tear up at least some of the weeds.\"\n\n*****\n\nA few minutes later, I stretched under the weak light of an autumn sun and breathed in the crisp air. The doctor was talking about some theory of his regarding my behavior, but I mostly ignored it.\n\n\"...but the fact that it follows a distribution so well is very strange, especially since there have been no outlier days-\"\n\n\"Doctor. About your first question...\" I interrupted.\n\n\"Go on, Daniel. What is it?\" He asked.\n\n\"Eight.\"\n\nI [lunged](https://www.reddit.com/r/mpqeg/)." ]	2
	[WP] You’re an assassin who’s been hired to eliminate a target in their suburban home. Upon arrival, you find the target’s house already broken into...	[ "Protocols, this is why I write them. But curiosity is an overriding emotion, while the quiet peace of a suburban setting seems a simple enough task my job always finds a way to make me pause. \n\nMy policy would be to walk away, standing in the dark alley, black cloth laden, a small ruck sack, and soft body armour I eyed the window through my headset. Power was long out, it'll take them a week to figure out it wasn't a bird that flew into the substation down the way. Flipping between settings on my optics, infrared, night vision, and my newly acquired radio wave defeating spectrum setting. The last tool quickly becoming my favorite, in assuming it detects radio bursts, such as phones, hidden alarm systems, you would be correct.\n\nYet the house seemed a black hole, nothing emitting from inside. Even with the power out, neighbors emitted some type of wave from electronics. Yet the mark was inside, like so many nights before he'd saunter home, eat his cold dinner, and call it a night about 2300. I couldn't have missed him, even with my short deviation from the sub station left a thirty minute surveillance gap he'd have nowhere else to go.\n\nAdding to the obvious break in, something pulled me in. Like a scientist to an abnormality I wanted to investigate. But protocols, this is why I write them. So I turned to leave, making like a ghost down the alleyway and back to my car. For this is why I am able to tell you this tale, safety is key. Because wild tales of car chases and shootouts don't exist, no matter my training; One well aimed bullet, one perfectly timed bomb would kill me. But this is why I have protocols... ", "Unfamiliar vehicle. Broken window. Alarm dysfunctional.\n\nSurveillance complete. Analysis: Home invasion.\n\nThe nondescript figure, dressed in a grey hoodie and jeans, touched just below its ear. “Query: Home invasion in progress. Proceed?” Its voice was human, but strangely stilted, as if it was reading from a page rather than \ncreating a question.\n\n“You’re a big boy now, N6. You can handle a little obstacle. We’ll be watching.”\n\nThe figure nodded once and returned its hands to its pockets. To the casual observer, it looked to be a young, slightly effeminate man, merely waiting at the bus stop - but the duo peering over the roof behind him were anything but casual.\n\n“He’s really getting the hang of it,” the woman murmured, adjusting her overalls as she watched.\n\n“Don’t call it ‘he’. You know what the technicians said about forming pronouns,” her partner admonished in a deep rumble, a giant of a man next to her compact form.\n\n“I know, I know. It’s just so hard see that and call it, well, it,” she said, and sighed. \n\nIt was currently crossing the street, having abandoned the pretense of waiting. The charming little suburban home with its perfectly manicured lawn should have been empty except for the target.\n\nAnother test. They are watching.\n\nA shrill scream sounded from inside, and its pace increased, all but running towards the house, though it remained curiously silent on its feet.\n\nSide door provides entrance to backyard. Second bedroom window will not be shut.\n\nThe little side gate opened without a squeak. The window was pulled open from outside, but the screen proved jammed in place.\n\nTime > Evidence left\n\nTwo slashes with a knife made quick work of the screen, and N6 slipped in, catlike, landing in a low crouch on the plush bedroom carpet. It heard a whimper from another room, much quieter but somehow far more urgent than the scream had been.\n\nTarget is in danger. Clean kill not guaranteed.\n\t\nThe woman scratched at her shoulder. “Damn, this disguise is itchy. And hot. Could you really get nothing better than roofers?”\n\nThe man fanned himself with a baseball cap. “There isn’t much that can get you on a roof in suburbia without attracting attention. Consider yourself lucky we aren’t gardeners.” \n\n“Fair enough. He’s taking a while in there, isn’t he?”\n\n“It,” he corrected.\n\n“Yeah. You brought the rifle, right?”\n\n“Never leave home without it.” He patted the toolcase next to him.\n\nN6 stepped out of the bedroom, stepping across the hall to what the blueprints claimed was the other bedroom. A dirty, wild-looking man was brandishing a pistol in front of a pretty woman on a bed. The woman was crying, and some of her clothes seemed to have been ripped away and tossed about the room. The man had his back turned, but she saw the figure behind him and gasped. The dirty man spun around, aiming the pistol at N6.\n\n“Who the fuck are you, pretty boy? You tryna’ die?”\n\nWas not equipped with gun. Another test. Distraction capabilities in a hostile situation.\n\nIn the same stilted voice, it replied, “Designation N6, Combat Android. Trying to not be eliminated.”\n\nThe words “What the fuck-” were barely out of the man’s mouth when the android moved, seizing the moment of confusion. A palm to the nose sent him reeling back in a spray of blood as the other hand crushed the pressure points on his gun hand, forcing him to drop it. A second later and it plunged the knife upwards through the abdomen, piercing his heart. He died with barely a grunt, dropping to the floor in a spreading patch of crimson.\n\nThe woman looked on in horror and a little amazement, trembling on her back on the bed. “You- you- you saved me…”\n\nThreats eliminated. Verify target identity if possible and eliminate.\n\n“Query: Mrs. Emily Alfer?”\n\n“Yes… that’s me. What are you-”\n\nThe android picked up the gun from the floor and shot her twice through the head in a practiced, dispassionate motion.\n\nEvidence minimal. No witnesses. Two clean kills.\n\nIt touched below its ear. “Target and secondary threat eliminated. Evidence insubstantial. Confirm mission completion.”\n\n“Confirmed, N6. Drop any contaminated clothing in the trash can outside of number 44 and head to the extraction point.”\n\nThe woman sighed in relief, waving off her companion who was opening up the toolbox. “We’re good. Pack up and let's head home.”" ]	2
	[WP] - God actually wrote a 3rd Testament. But it didn’t sell very well... This is the synopsis on the inside cover:	[ "The Newer, Shinier Testament\n\nHereforth lays the account of the Last and Final words and acts of the Lord God to His creations, as spoken through his second, less favorite Son, Bradley.\n\nBradley, fathered by a used wagon salesman, whose only sin was selling wagons so cheap it was practically theft, and mothered by a homeless teenage girl, died shortly after being born.\n\nBut before His untimely passing, Bradley managed to get in a word or two edgewise about being a wholesome, Godly guy. Within this Last and Final Testament to the Will and Word of God, Bradley's seven-hour long Sermon Flailing on the Ground is recorded by His most trusted apostles: five nurses, His mother, two lambs, Judas, and a dog or two. At the end of the Testament, there is a nice sing-a-long bit called Why God Only Wants You to Eat the Core of the Apple Instead of the Rest of It, which ends when the Archangel Michael descends from Heaven and skewers the Babe with his sword, then flings Him up into the sky to be with His Father.\n\n$9.99 US/$12.99 CAN", "The Book of Mormon\n\nAn Account Written by the Hand of Mormon upon Plates Taken from the Plates of Nephi\n\t\t\nWherefore, it is an abridgment of the record of the people of Nephi, and also of the Lamanites—Written to the Lamanites, who are a remnant of the house of Israel; and also to Jew and Gentile—Written by way of commandment, and also by the spirit of prophecy and of revelation—Written and sealed up, and hid up unto the Lord, that they might not be destroyed—To come forth by the gift and power of God unto the interpretation thereof—Sealed by the hand of Moroni, and hid up unto the Lord, to come forth in due time by way of the Gentile—The interpretation thereof by the gift of God.\n\nAn abridgment taken from the Book of Ether also, which is a record of the people of Jared, who were scattered at the time the Lord confounded the language of the people, when they were building a tower to get to heaven—Which is to show unto the remnant of the house of Israel what great things the Lord hath done for their fathers; and that they may know the covenants of the Lord, that they are not cast off forever—And also to the convincing of the Jew and Gentile that Jesus is the Christ, the Eternal God, manifesting himself unto all nations—And now, if there are faults they are the mistakes of men; wherefore, condemn not the things of God, that ye may be found spotless at the judgment-seat of Christ.\n\nTranslated by Joseph Smith, Jun." ]	2
	[WP] You are a serial killer sentenced to 671 years in prison. A hundred years in you realize that you are immortal. Today is the end of the 671. year of your sentence.	[ "I hoist my duffel bag over my shoulder and stand outside for the first time in 671 years. \n\nThere's no one waiting for me on the other side. Well... technically, they are. But at the same time, they're not.\n\nA bit of sadness creeps into me as I give the guard a nod and begin my descent into society.\n\nA hundred years into my sentence, 571 years ago, I remember there was a big hoopla about my being immortal. Letters poured in. Visitors everyday. Guards willing to give me 'special favors.' Inmates looking up to me with awe.\n\nNone of that now. Guess people got tired of waiting. Last I heard, the new hot thing was something called 'Dog on Skates'.\n\nAs the prison disappears behind me, I feel a sudden, mad urge to do something that would get me locked back up again. \n\nThe urge passes and I find myself standing in front of an ATM. I swipe my card and punch in my pin. \n\nI blink. Look. Blink. Rub my eyes. Look. Blink again.\n\nOo baby, Daddy's a millionaire.\n\n\n" ]	1
	[WP] "Humans may look frightening, but you shouldn't worry. They can only sense you if you materialize."	[ "The hairless creature has yet to detect me. I almost wish it would.\n\nI'd heard about what they do to the unnamed races that visit their world. The devastation they can bring, the horrors they will commit just to sate their curiosity.\n\nThat would be a welcome relief from my current situation. But without my materializer, I can't end this torturous existence.\n\nThis mission has gone completely wrong. The entire structure is setup like a cage, I can't get my waveform through the hexagonal metal grid embedded into the walls. It's like they knew we were coming, and set up nets. And I walked right into one.\n\nWhat's worse, is when I snuck in through the smaller portal at the base of the main one, a large furred creature attacked me. It damaged my materializer with a single deft swipe of it's paw, popping out hook-like claws when it did. If I were still materialized, I probably would have been disemboweled.\n\nI thought I was safe dematerialized, but this hulking beast can still see me. It follows me and tries to strike me down, though the attacks only phase through my form. The even larger hairless creature finds this amusing.\n\nThe sounds grate on my senses, from the creature's loud repetitive \"haahaahaa\" to the various growls and \"raow, roaw\". I'm at my wit's end.\n\nPlease send help.", "\"Sense?\"\n\n\"Oh yes.\" Kano-051 confirmed his previous statement with the customary copy and emphasis transmission, \"Their sensory organs are quite varied and highly useful within their own environments. They even have biological tendrils called 'hairs', they use these to sense fluid movement in both gaseous and liquid surroundings. They naturally track flows around them and are capable of identifying disturbances in less than a second.\"\n\nKano-053 processed this as he observed the movements of the humans ten feet below him, \"They do not look so advanced.\" \n\n\"Oh, they acclimate quickly, which leads to weakness. They adjust to almost any environment, even micro-gravity and flesh-freezing temperatures. Yet the longer they live in an environment, the more they lose their vigilant sense of the place... and still they are naturally adept at detecting threats to their habitation.\" Kano-051 flowed further downward, sending the appropriate signal to suggest Kano-053 follow him, \"Their multiphasic senses are extremely primitive, though. As long as we are not within five dimensional planes of them then they will not observe us as we observe them.\"\n\n\"Strange creatures.\" Kano-053 drifted down to a point where his longest manipulators would have brushed through the hairs of the people below him if he had been aligned correctly, \"You say they acclimate to microgravity, yet I see no evidence of gravetic generators.\"\n\n\"They have none.\"\n\n\"None?\" Kano-053 sent three extra queries demanding expanded explanation.\n\n\"They use chemical reactions to throw themselves off-planet. They build small orbital cylinders to live within and conduct science and entertainment within them.\" Kano-051 added markers to his words to express mild amusement, \"They really are quite... inventive.\"\n\n\"And dangerous.\" Kano-053 marked his words heavily, \"Their standard gravity is 3.17 SGGU, the chemical reactions to breach both atmosphere and gravity capture would have to be-\"\n\n\"Yes.\" Kano-051 confirmed, \"They regularly explode with amazing force.\" \n\nSilence settled between them as Kano-051 supplied Kano-053 with memory files of Falcon-9 explosions. Kano-053 emitted alternating response markers of both fear and awe.\n\n\"I advise against contact.\" Kano-053 finally submitted to his superior, \"These humans are very frightening.\"\n\n\"Only at first impression.\" Kano-051 drifted further down and indicated a pair of humans who had bent over a small animal, extricating it's leg from some sort of entanglement. Kano-053 transmitted translations of the conversation as the two spoke about the smaller animal and how they should proceed to confirm its health and well-being, \"They are frightening, though, I can agree with that, but it is not the things I have shown you which frighten me. It is something less tangible than that. They have something which our society has never seen before.\"\n\n\"What?\" \n\nKano-051 reached out with a manipulator arm and ran it though the other-phase of the human female's hair, \"Variety.\"" ]	2
	[WP] You can talk to plants.	[ "“Rise and shine!” The familiar wake up call cut through my slumber and my eyes flitted open. \n\n“Morning, Glory.” I sat up and turned to the purple flowers sitting on the window sill. The potted morning glory stared out the window at the sun. \n\n“Rise and shine!” It repeated. Being able to talk to plants had its benefits, but in general they weren’t very smart. \n\n“I’m awake, Glory.” I stood up from my bed, then tickled her soil on my way to the restroom. Her roots detected the vibrations. \n\n“Morning!” Glory said. \n \nI flipped on the light switch in the restroom, and this woke up Vera, the aloe plant. \n\n“I’m thirsty!” \n\n“No you’re not, Vera. I watered you last night,” I said to the plant. She continued to nag while I finished up my morning routine. After my teeth felt clean I decided to give her a couple drops of water. I let a partial handful of water drip on Vera’s soil.\n\n“I’M DROWNING!” She yelled at me. I chuckled and left the bathroom. Even for a plant, Vera was special. Most of the other aloe plants I’d met were at least smart enough to know when they’ve had enough water. I kept Vera because I hated the thought of her suffering silently in a house where someone didn’t understand her. I went to the kitchen and turned on the light. The herbs greeted me. I kept Mint, Basil, and Rosemary on the window sill above the sink. \n\n“Morning!” They all said. \n\n“Alright guys. Whose turn today?” I asked while I pulled eggs, ham, and cheese out of the fridge. \n\n“My turn!” Rosemary said. I plucked a couple of the larger leaves from the plant. \n\n“Thank you, Rose.”\n\n“You’re welcome.” \n\nAfter I finished my omelette breakfast I poured the used coffee grounds into Rosemary’s pot as a reward for her minor sacrifice. After taking care of the dishes I made my out the back door to head to the greenhouse. With an ability like mine, it would be a waste to have an office job in a cubicle somewhere. Just me and a single plant or two in a sea of humans did not sound even remotely appealing. I walked into the greenhouse and greeted my crop as a whole. I needed to announce myself because they were already bathed in light. \n\n“Good morning, Mary Jane.” Their collective greeting came back. \n\n“hey.”\n\n&nbsp;\n\nThank you for reading! If you enjoyed it you can find more of my writings on my [blog](http://hserratafun.blogspot.com/2017/10/front-page.html). ", "\"Dude, you're kidding me, that isn't enough water!\" \n\nI look around the classroom, wondering where the sudden voice came from. Everyone knew that Mr. Largo hated noise, especially if it was in the middle of a task.\n\n\"Wow, okay, hold your horses!\" The sudden voice came again, \"that's enough water, geez. I'm not as thirsty as that lily over there.\"\n\nI looked around once more in confusion. No one appeared to have spoken, which was quite strange.\n\n\"Down here!\"\n\nI follow the instruction, looking down towards the plant I was watering. I narrow my eyes, looking closely at the basil in front of me. \n\n\"There we go, I appreciate eye contact when I'm speaking.\"\n\nI look at it incredulously, wondering if I had heard right. Was the plant really talking? Or is this some kind of prank?\n\n\"So, it's either I'm going crazy,\" I muttered, keeping an eye on my professor to see if he heard. \"Or this plant is legitimately talking.\"\n\n\"Yeahp, it's me talking,\" the \"plant\" said, \"oh, and can you save that rosemary over there? It's being over watered.\"" ]	2
	[WP] You finally did it, after years of perseverance and pain, you have defeated the evil overlord and brought peace to the world. As you stare at his dead body, you begin to wonder, "Now what?"	[ "\"You think you have won? You will soon see the true misery!\" swore the overlord, as I was holding a sword in my hand, ready to pierce his colossal mask and what was behind it. I just smiled and let the sword go. The overlord stopped moving.\n\n\"And the world is saved! Yeah, woohoo! Alright!\" I screamed as loudly as I could. The world is saved indeed. All thanks to me.\n\nThe room is quiet and cold. I look at the body of the evil overlord. I step few steps forward and hit the dead body and scream \"Look at me, I am awesome, now you can't do anything anymore, can you?\"\n\nOnly echoes of my shouts return. I look around the room and see the dead bodies of my comrades who sacrificed their lives to protect me so that we could beat this overlord.\n\nOnly moving body in this room was me.\n\n\"I guess, there will be at least some people who will appreciate it!\" I announced out loud, almost like someone was listening to me and took overlord big ass sword with me. \"But I should say goodbye to my friends first.\"\n\nWas it easy? Of course not. But getting here and winning against him took a lot of sacrifices ultimately and the truth was: I got used to it. After burying my friends nearby and as I get to the nearest village, people do not do anything. I enter the closest pub and sit down.\n\n\"One beer for the overlord slayer!\" I announce. Few people throw their look at me.\n\n\"Good job!\" said the bartender and put the beer in front of me.\n\n\"What? You want to get rewarded or something? I am sure the king might have some reward for you!\" he said with a laugher.\n\n\"You think this is a victory? Overlord minions still plunder our fields! Now that you defeated overlord, who shall protect us, uh? We are doomed alone here!\" One of the farmers cried and drank beer in his corner. I look a bit more sad as usual, as I wander off into my thoughts.\n\nAs I gave out a huge sigh, I let go of a beer and crumbled on the bar table. I miss my companions. They always cheered me up, told me stories and found solutions to the problems I could not solve myself.\n\n\"What's with the long face? Didn't you kill the overlord?\" asked the bartender, as he was trying to rub clean beer glass with an already dirty piece of clothing.\n\n\"Now what?\" I asked.\n\n\"Don't ask me, but you reminded me of this one guy a long time ago.\"\n\n\"Who?\" I asked.\n\n\"It was when the previous overlord got killed. Guy came, was all sad. My father told him some kind of a story, and then that thanked me and left. Funny fellow. We tend to meet different weirdos in this area. Haha.\" Bartender grinned and decided that the dirty glass was clean enough, so he took next, a bit clearer glass and started cleaning that with that same nasty cloth piece. At some point he moved the cloth piece near his mouth, spit on it and started cleaning again, resulting in a bit cleaner glass visually.\n\nAs I looked at the glass, how it got now a bit cleaner, even though it was still dirty, I suddenly realised all of it. I understood what the overlord meant by his words. I smiled, stood up and decided that I needed to take on this misery. I told bartender: \"Thank you!\"\n\nBefore I left, I could hear boy asking: \"Dad, who was that?\" As I listened to the answer, I smiled and took my steps towards overlord castle. He was right; I am just another weirdo.\n\n----\n\n/r/ElvenWrites", "It was luck. I’ve traded everything of value in my life for fourteen years of heartbreak, isolation from my own personality, and somehow earning the trust of the most elite resistance unit positioned against these destroyed forces for blind luck. No fight, no valiant struggle, no martyrdom, nothing. \n\n\nWe knew the rudimentary emp device, activated from inside the compound, would disable the various traps and robotic henchman. We knew the emp would lock down the control room and start backup power. We knew he’d be momentarily incapacitated when the control-feedback loop we’d had placed in the fallback system during a suicide mission months earlier would drive the power supply of his control chair to critical mass. We knew he’d be too powerful to have any of this stop him, but we thought he might be just weakened enough to give us a chance to. However, none of us could have predicted the Rube-Goldberg-esque chain reaction between various buttons, failing systems, failing robotic machinery, and magnetic field interference which would ultimately do this striking virtuoso of unparalleled chaos in with the most unspectacular of conclusions. We also had no idea that he’d simultaneously launched a preemptive strike of such absoluteness and unthinkable precision that it removed the resistance with zero trace of claim, let alone occurrence. The technology was so thorough in its clandestine obliteration that only a single flashing notification in the control room indicated success. \n\n\n“ISSUE 79-540z complete: Order of Anthar destroyed.”\n\n\nI stood alone in the compound, illuminated by the cerulean cast of the control screens. It was all over. Everything. The good guys, bad guys, and all they stood for vanished with not so much as a parade or firing squad to punctuate the years of struggle between the two most destructive forces in the next five quadrants. I hesitated before using Thorath’s hand, removed from its unpowered socket, to bring up the full report. 3 screens jumped into formation around my head, relaying their recorded carnage with pride. I watched in stunned silence as my comrades were unceremoniously vaporized by a single point of light streaking and branching through the entirety of each of our three compounds, leaving a thickening trail of light as it travelled through the interior. It was clear to me know that he had the coordinates to our full infrastructure this whole time, waiting to deploy this… this thing. Whatever it was, it left no trace. After completely illuminating each base and removing from existence all of its inhabitants, the light engulfed the structures and vanished just as quickly. When the light dimmed, not a single brick remained in place. What an incredible and awesome weapon this was. Thorath gave me a hand in expanding the technology report. \n\n\n“WEAPON ZED-SEVEN: Performance analysis”\n\n\nI spent the next three days with screens flickering in and out of my vision. Reports and engagement strategies, research sectors and their projects, footage of absolutely silent and clean removal of threat. It was incredible. It was elegant. As I learned more, I began to bring back online and reprogram and upgrade systems using the knowledge stored in Thorath’s databases. I even hardened the system against the kinds of attacks which our unit leveraged to bring it down in the first place. This technology could absolutely be put to good use. I could neutralize threats to the peace and security of the people in the next ten quadrants, easily. I could bring order and stability, create safety for all those who would be willing to live in peace. As the compound reported full operational status, I fit Thorath’s robotic arm into its new socket, and I was assured nobody could stop me. \n" ]	2
	[WP] You receive a strange visitor carrying a book. It turns out that your life is a bestselling novel in an alternate reality	[ "November 24th, Black Friday. 6:56 AM.\n\nBest Buy.\n\nI gave a huge yawn, then took a small sip of my coffee. It had long gone cold. The caffeine was the only thing keeping me going at this point. With 5 hours still left on my shift, it would be a miracle if I made it though the day at all.\n\nI was an evening guy. I had claimed the 6-10 shift the moment I started. I was always there. I had never been late. I was the perfect employee.\n\nSo when my boss asked me to work the 4-10 on Black Friday, I was more than a little surprised. But, as a personal rule, effort resulted in excellence. And sometimes, you had to go that extra mile to be excellent.\n\nI accepted. \n\nAnd now, almost three hours in to my eight hour shift, I was beginning to wonder just how much effort I was going to have to put in for my excellence. \n\nI yawned again as I slowly made my way up the center aisle. I took another sip of my coffee as my watch gave a small beep. I checked it quickly. 7 o’clock. \n\nSuddenly, something in my brain began to tick. Something I had heard, maybe from earlier that day... Suddenly, my boss’s words came rushing back.\n\n“Do not, under ANY circumstances, get caught in the center aisle when the doors open! If you’re in the middle of that rush... well, only God can save you then.”\n\nI slowly turned, and looked at the main doors. The sight before me still haunts me to this day. \n\nA river of sweaty bodies, all pushing and shoving as they rushed into the store, ready to find the best deals of the year.\n\nAnd right in front, leading the whole crowd, was the sweatiest, fastest man I had ever seen.\n\nHe was coming right for me. \n\nI had seconds to react. I tried turn, tried to run, but there was no point. He was on me in seconds. I saw shoved to the side like a rag-doll by this massive man. I fell to the ground, helpless, to the onslaught of people that was coming right for me.\n\nI was as good as dead.\n\nSuddenly, a cold hand grabbed my forearm. I barely had a second to process what was happening before I was out of the aisle and in a side area designated for all things copy paper. I watched, dumbfounded, as the herd of humans plowed over the spot where I was seconds before.\n\n“I will never understand why people put themselves through that. It’s downright ridiculous, I swear!”\n\nThe masculine voice drew me from my thoughts. Using a nearby shelf, I pulled myself up to my feet, and turned for the first time to look at my savior. \n\nHe was taller than I was, probably 6 foot 2 if I had to guess, and skinny. He a had sharp features, all dotted with freckles. His sandy blond hair covered almost all of his forehead, but did little to hide his brilliant blue eyes. He looked to be about 20.\n\n“Oh, blimey. It really is you...”\n\nHe was also British. Very British.\n\n“Yes... it’s me. Who am I, exactly...? How do you know me?”\n\nThe man chuckled softly, then gave me a look full of pity.\n\n“You really don’t know. My Lord... You’re only the star of the biggest book series in the world. James Peterson! You’ve been on so many adventures, I can’t even list them all!” He looked down, sheepishly. “You’re... you’re my hero.”\n\nHe reached into a small satchel that I hadn’t noticed before, and pulled out a novel. He handed it to me, and I slowly looked down at the cover. I was greeted my my own, smiling face, printed on ink right in the middle of the book. \n" ]	1
	[WP] You and three others have suddenly been each been given the power to control one of the four fundamental forces of the universe (gravity, weak force, strong force, and electromagnetism). Describe your four-way duel.	[ "Four gods was three too many, something had to be done. I'm not interested in being called a god, but I still can't let these false gods roam free.\n\nGravity and Magnetism where the first to arrive. I found them arguing about who's force was better while conspicuously using their respective abilities in the showiest manner they could manage.\n\nThey didn't say a word when I walked up, and they where equally ambivalent about Weak Nuclear Force's approach.\n\nWe had taken to calling each other by the name of the force we controlled. It made it easier to keep track of who did what, and it stopped us from feeling bad about planning to kill each other. I was Strong Nuclear Force now, and that was all I would ever be to them.\n\nNow that we where all here, we took a moment to ready ourselves for the coming battle. Only one of us would be walking away from this, and each of us planed on making sure it was them.\n\n3...2...1...Now.\n\nAnd just as soon as it began, the fight was over as all three of my opponents collapsed into piles of raw matter. \n\nI had spent months studying every possible application for the strong nuclear force, and eventually settled on simply stopping it. Before my rivals could even blink, the invisible ties that held the atoms that made up their bodies let go, killing them instantly.\n\nWith those three gone forever I forget I ever had this power and get on with my life. No mortal can be trusted with the power I hold, it will be better for everyone if I avoid using it." ]	1
	[WP] You’ve arrived in heaven after a horrible yet comedic death only to discover you’re the star of Heaven’s Funniest home videos and God wants you to come onto the show.	[ "Nobody believed me, but I knew the truth. And so did my peers. But people would ridicule us for not buying in to their \"science\". I'm going to prove it to all of them. \n\nMy name is Mike Hughes and I'm about to launch my homemade rocket into space. I will prove once and for all that the earth is flat.\n\n------\n\nGod looked at Mike with a smile. \"That's what you wrote, right?\"\n\n\"Well, yeah,\" Mike said. \"But I didn't know that was going to happen!\"\n\n\"And now, for our audience, the replay!\"\n\nA gigantic video popped up on a white wall for everyone to see. It showed Mike, straddling his rocket, holding onto makeshift pegs, and wearing an oversized motorcycle helmet. \n\nOff camera, a countdown started, and on zero, the rocket exploded, sending pieces of itself, and Mike into oblivion. \n\nGod fell over laughing. The crowd cheered. Obama was there. " ]	1
	[WP] When you die, you appear in a white space with nothing but an abacus, a stack of sheet metal, and two pairs of wooden clogs. After twenty years, you finally figure it out.	[ "\"The voices. They know nothing, all they want is numbers. But they can't get it. nooo they will never get it. Never. My castle will protect me, protect and shimmer in all its glory for millennia! And when the men come they will SEE! They'll see my- WHO ARE YOU!? YOU THINK YOU KNOW NUMBERS? YOU KNOW NOT OF NUMBERS! Shhhhhh. What is that brother shoe? Rest. Yes you are right. And you agree sister. Yes I must rest for tomorrow, ^ yes. rest.^^sleep.\"\n\nIn the far side of the room a door slid open. Darkness pierced the vacuum of brilliant white. Three figures appear.\n\n\"Ok you know the drill people, standard clean and feed.\"\n\nMidway through the procedure the deranged character rose with great alarm.\n\n\"SHOE KIN! THEY HAVE COME FOR THE NUMBERS! HELP ME SLAY THESE WICKED BEINGS!\"\n\nAnd at that cry he grabbed a clog and attempted to beat one of the intruders. He swung hard but his grip was not firm enough, and the shoe slipped and flew and crashed into the abacus, smashing both in to pieces and scattering beads all over.\n\n\"BROTHER SHOE! AT OUR FINAL HOUR YOU BETRAY ME!\"\n\nBefore the other men could reach him the ground began to shake violently and the only escape sealed without trace. The three men looked at each other as they clung to the floor. The deranged man lay clutching the remnants of the abacus, crying pitifully and consoling in the undamaged clog. \n\nThe quake simmered down. \n\nAn opening appeared on the floor.\n\nThe floor started rising creating a funnel around the opening.\n\nThe man was free.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n", "\"I think I get it now,\" I said to myself after an eternity. I'd spent the past forever walking, yelling, SCREAMING to myself, trying to find a way to get out of here. \n\nWas this heaven or hell? There was a pretty strong case for hell, since I had nobody to talk to and nothing to do. But at the same time, it's possible that his was heaven, since I couldn't kill myself despite my best efforts. Or maybe it was purgatory. I know I've spent an eternity contemplating my sins.\n\n\"I think I get it. FUCK, I THINK I GOT IT.\"\n\nI set the abacus to the side, reset it.\n\nI took a piece of sheet metal and thrust it against the floor. No change. I did it again and again. Then, suddenly, a tiny piece of floor flew out. Miniscule.\n\nI will dig a hole until every single one of my pieces of sheet metal wears down. Then, I will walk within and around the hole until both pairs of clogs wear out. Then, I will walk around the hole, and for every circle, I will advance the abacus by one. Then maybe, just maybe, when the abacus is done, I will be released." ]	2
	[WP] It's 3am. Groaning in frustration, you moan "I would do anything to get out of writing this paper" and smash your head into the desk. "Anything?" says the voice behind you.	[ "I sigh heavily. \n\nI remember watching Freddy Kruger when i was a kid and it scared the hell out of me. I don't know how common it is, but i have a long history of falling asleep with my dreams picking up where reality left off. As a result i worked on lucid dreaming so i could learn to wake myself up and get on with life. I spun around in my chair and saw a man in a bright red bow tie, black suit. He was bald and his mouth seemed to take up an inordinate amount of his face. He grinned hugely and revealed teeth like a sharks. \"I'm not dreaming, am i?\" the man... if it was a man, laughed maniacally and oozed \"What gave it away?\" i tried to control my breathing, tried to calm myself \"If i were dreaming you'd be a clown, or a doll or something. I'm not that creative, really.\" it laughed and then said \"So... anything? Really?\" \n\nIt's my fault really. I'm not all that creative so when it grinned even wider, more impossibly wide than ever before and said \"What's the worst that could happen\" I really thought about it. Nothing came to mind and let me tell you that paper? It was great. Got me an A+ and i haven't been able to stop smiling since then, seems like everything is looking up, all roses and every damn thing that happens just puts a big old smile on my face. \n\nThen i heard someone in the back of the classroom slam their head on a desk and say \"Man i'd do anything to get this project done on time.\" I smiled wide, so wide i could feel it in my eyeballs, so wide i thought my face might break and in an instant i was behind them. \"Anything?\" I said", "\"\"YO WHAT?!\", I say in shock.\n\"You said you'd do anything to get out of doing this paper so I'm just trying to get a confirmation on that\", says the black figure standing at the furthest corner from me.\n\"Uh I was just exaggerating. Ya know? A hyperbole. Funny enough this paper is about the uses of hyperboles. Could I use this conversation as an opening for it?\", I asked.\n\"Oh um sure, I guess\", he says. \"So uh I'll just leave then...\"\n\n\"Yeah okay. Goodbye!\", I shout as the dark figure leaves.\n", "Huh? I said groggily. I smacked my head a little harder than I meant to, and was seeing stars.\n\n\"You said you'd do anything to get out of that paper, right?\n\nI turn around to be greeted by an elderly man, dressed in a black suit, smiling at me.\n\n\"Uhhh, yeaa... this paper is due tomorrow and I'm just bored of this class, I'd do anything to be able to skip it\" I was at my college library, and while i thought this exchange was weird, it wasn't the first time a stranger has struck a conversation with me. I sort of just figured he was a staff member taking an interest in me.\n\n\"What if I told you I could get you out of having to do that paper, and much more, for a small price?\" His smile now stretched across his face, it was cold, and calculated.\n\n\"I don't know man, that sounds pretty sketchy\" This guy probably wanted me to do some sick sexual fantasy, no old guys ever want money or anything normal.\n\n\"No, I don't want sex\" He replied calmly.\n\nI jumped, did I say that out loud?? My face must be beet red, I've never been more embarrassed. \"Oh..Uh..I..I'm sorry! I didn't mean anything by that, I swear!\" Oh god I cannot believe I did that. I grab my books ready to sprint out of there and cry.\n\n\"Wait just a moment, no harm done, I am only here to conduct some business. You said you'd do anything after all, that's why I'm here.\" His eyes burned into me, I don't know why but this old man scared me.\n\n\"Uh yea, what..what did you have in mind?\" I couldn't calm my breathing, This guy...there was something off about him, mixed with my earlier embarrassment, I was stuttering like a fool.\n\n\"Oh sonny, I am going to give you the deal of a lifetime, I am going to give you 3 wishes. There are rules to these wishes, I can not raise the dead, nor can i turn back time. I am also unable to bend free will, unfortunately the big man took that one away from me a few centuries back; I'm still upset about that. In exchange what I want from you is so small in comparison you'd be a fool not to take my offer.\"\n\nMy eyes bulged \"Wait what what what, raise the dead? Three wishes? Are you being serious?\"\n\nHe rolled his eyes \"Why does every mortal need proof, if I say I can grant wishes then I can. Whatever, here look closely.\" He pulls out a ball of glass, and holds it out to me. I peer inside and.. wait.. is that me? I'm sitting on a throne, thousands of people around me are bowing and throwing roses and gold at me. \"This can be you.\" The old man states \"For a small fee, this could be just one of your wishes, I can make you rich, powerful, or even extend your life for centuries.\"\n\n\"What do you want in return?\" I knew the answer, it was always the same in these scenarios. \"My soul?\"\n\n\"What? No! Do you know how many souls i have now? I don't even know what to do with them all. I want your body. This one is getting to old to support me, in exchange for 3 wishes, you will sign over to me your body, after you've died ill be using it as my new vessel. This one has been good for the past thousand years or so, but its time for an upgrade.\"\n\n\"You just want my body? That's all?\"\n\n\"Yep, nothing less, nothing more. Do we have a deal?\"\n\n\"Hmmmmm..\" I thought about it for a few minutes, until he was becoming visibly impatient. \"Nah, I'll just do my paper.\"\n\nPoof, he was gone. Suddenly i was waking up, my head heavy on my text book. \"Ughh just a dream?\" \n\nLike I'd let another man in my body, that's gay af. ", "\"Anything?\"\n\nDarren almost fell out of his chair as he twisted around. He was alone in his dorm room. His roommate had gone home on Friday. Hell, half of the school went home on the weekends, so there shouldn't be anyone here!\n\nExcept there was. \n\nA man sat on the top bunk of the room's bunk bed. He had dark skin, a wild smile, and an extremely large nose. He was wearing a small purple hat with gold trimming, an open vest with no shirt underneath, and pants that were the same purple as the hat. His legs were kicking back and forth as he leaned forward.\n\n\"What kind of anything?\"\n\n\"Get out of my room!\" Darren grabbed his pair of scissors from the pencil case on his desk and attempted to raise them in a threatening way.\n\n\"Why would I leave after I have been summoned?\" The strange man stopped swinging his legs, \"You have brought me here at the correct hour, cast pain into your head as is required, and called out your want of the deal. The contract is sufficient and accepted, so why do you banish me without fulfillment?\"\n\n\"What?\"\n\n\"You have called me here.\" The man jumped down from the top bunk, his impact on the floor seemingly too violent for his smallish body, \"You have summoned Algh, Lord of the Frustrated, Champion of Desperation. When there are no ways to turn, all turn to Algh! Now propose your deal, human!\"\n\n\"I wasn't-what?\" Darren shook his head, \"What deal?\"\n\n\"To escape the writing of the paper.\" Algh crossed his arms and frowned, \"It is the great obstacle which is destroying your mind and body. I will remove it for the appropriate price.\"\n\n\"What sort of price?\"\n\n\"Oh, that's a most difficult thing to weigh.\" Algh lifted his head and blew green smoke toward the old ceiling fan, \"This paper that restrains you, how impassible is it?\"\n\n\"Well, uh.\" Darren looked at the class syllabus and the line that read 'Three to five pages in length.' \"It's actually not that impassible. I just got a little bit of writer's block.\"\n\n\"A block of writers!\" Algh smiled, \"How many? A score? A Legion!?\"\n\n\"What, no-\"\n\n\"It's been a millennia since I dispatched a legion! Are they armed to the teeth?\" Algh leaned forward, clasping has hands together as if in a fervent prayer, \"Do they possesses magic of fire?\"\n\n\"No!\" Darren stepped backward and hit the desk with the back of his thighs, \"It's nothing like that. I just have to give an argument to my teacher.\"\n\n\"So it is a puzzle? A great riddle to solve what cannot be solved? A twisting trap of words upon which life and death hang in precarious balance?\" \n\n\"NO!\" Darren shouted with his eyes shut, \"No. I'm sorry. You were summoned by accident. There is no great, life-changing epic here. There is only a stupid assignment that I'm too tired to work out. I left it for too long and it's my own damn fault that I didn't pay attention in class and now I can't understand the material.\"\n\n\"There is no legion of writers?\"\n\n\"No.\"\n\n\"No ancient riddle?\"\n\n\"Nope.\"\n\n\"No unsolvable labyrinth, evil dragon, or all-powerful djinn?\"\n\n\"Sorry.\"\n\nAlgh pursed his lips and glared at Darren, \"Then what in the thirteen hells do you want from me?\"\n\n\"Some cliffnotes on ancient greek plays?\" Darren asked hopefully.\n\nAlgh grunted, reached into a small pouch on his waste, and pulled out a small, silver coin with a hole in it. He threw the coin in Darren's face with a dismissive flip of his hand, \"Then buy such things yourself.\"\n\nAlgh vanished in a swirl of green smoke, leaving Darren with a small silver coin and a new bruise on his forehead." ]	4
	[WP] While at the dinner table, your wife suddenly screams "Bob, you have to wake up. We don't know in what form you will recieve this message but you have to wake up" and then act like notthing happened.	[ "\"So yeah, looks like we're gonna have some more work to do,\" I joke. Jane smiles back at me and starts to say something, but suddenly starts to shake. I stand up as she screams, \"Bob, you have to wake up. Please, honey. I don't know how this will get to you, but please. Wake up!\"\n\nI stare at her, mouth open. She sits down like nothing happened, asking Junior what he did in school. I realize that I won't be getting an explanation.\n\nI look at Jane. She's so beautiful. And Junior-I'm so proud of him. If this is a dream, why would I ever want to leave?\n\nI sit down and eat my dinner.", "Dinner with my wife is the highlight of my day. It's not that work is awful or anything- I really do enjoy my job- but there's no worthy substitution for my wife's cooking and the joyful conversations we have. We like to tell each other about our days. I spoon at my mashed-potatoes while she vents about an annoying coworker. \n\n\"I really don't understand how another lawyer can come to me and be so clueless about the field they claim to specialize in,\" she says, rolling her eyes. \"For some of these guys, I worry they'd show up to litigation in their underwear if I wasn't there.\" I laugh and she smiles. \n\n\"Do they at least acknowledge that they have no idea what they're doing?\" I question.\n\n\"No, that's the most frustrating part. They just spill a bunch of legal jargon and pretend it makes a coherent case. I'm usually able to catch their mistakes, so at least-\" She freezes. \"Bob, you have to wake up,\" she screeches. \"We don't know in what form you will receive this message but you have to wake up!\" \n\nI drop my fork in shock. \"Sweetheart, what the hell are you saying?\" My wife blinks in confusion.\n\n\"Bob, honey, what?\"\n\n\"What do you mean I need to wake up?\" \n\n\"I didn't say anything about waking up.\"\n\n\"Just a second ago, yes, you did. It was loud enough that the neighbors probably heard it.\"\n\n\"No, I was just talking about my case prep with Anthony. That's a strange thing to imagine.\"\n\nI stare, unable to wrangle my thoughts into coherent sentences. I can tell she's taken aback, but my heart is pounding with confusion so I mumble something about work stress and excuse myself. \n\nI pace into the bathroom and sit on the closed toilet lid, head in my hands. \n\n\"What the fuck was that,\" I groan. I suddenly notice the sound of running water. Peeking up, I see that the hot water tap is running. I stand up and twist the faucet off, and gasp. My reflection in the mirror is obscured by steam, and drawn on it's surface are the large, dripping words \"WAKE UP\". I scream, throwing myself to the bathroom door and tugging at an inexplicably locked handle. \n\n\"Sarah!\" I shriek, pounding the wooden door. \"Sarah, help!\" \n\n\"You just need to wake up, sweetie,\" she hisses from the other side. The exuberance in her voice halts me mid-swing. \n\n\"What do you mean!?\" I yell. \"You're scaring me, let me out so we can talk about this.\" There's only silence. I pound the door again. \"SARAH!\" I begin to sob, and I sink to my knees on the tiled floor. \n\n\"Wake up,\" I mutter desperately, \"Wake up, wake up, wake up-\"\n\n-------\n\n---\n\n A voice fades into recognition.\n\n\"...can you hear me?\" \n\n\"Mrhm, yep\" I mumble. I lack energy to the point where opening my eyes seems impossible. Even with them closed, it's overwhelmingly bright. I can tell I'm lying down, and the strong, chemical smell makes me think I'm not in my bathroom any more. \n\n\"Well, doctor,\" I hear a new voice say, \"it look's like we've finally done it. We have a remedy for Dr. Venomio's toxin.\" \n\nI hear the sound of footsteps growing louder and I finally wrench my eyes open. Above me is a man's face, nice groomed and smiling contently.\n\n\"Welcome back, Agent Kodak, we have a lot of work to do.\" \n " ]	2
	[WP] Your superpower is making people see basic common sense. You've turned many supervillains from crime and world conquest to happier, if less eventful lives. The real trouble began when you used your power on the greatest superhero in the world.	[ " Although his three pound engine works it's hardest up there, he isn't as smart as he is strong. It all suddenly clicks though. \n He realizes that he's wasted his life helping mankind all of these years when in reality, he could have taken over the planet. Men aren't even grateful as much as they are envious. \n The rest of the world didn't stand a chance against him. You have opened a whole new world up to him, and he offered to bring you up with him.\n\nEdit: Spelling" ]	1
	[WP] "I'm on a Mac! I can't get viruses!" says the person who just got the (flu, common cold, etc) virus for the first time in their lives.	[ "I coughed.\n\nIt felt weird. Like a cold. But that was impossible and had never happened before. Why, you may ask? Because a cold is a virus. And well, I'm on a Mac.\n\nThroughout my day, people told me that I was sick and that I should probably go home. And I felt terrible. But I definitely did not have a virus. After all, I have a Mac. Three, even. And an iPhone. And an Apple Watch. And an Apple TV.\n\nWhen I came home, I ensured that my Apple devices were all fine. The Mac Mini server was running fine. My MacBook Pro was doing great. So was the iPhone, Watch and TV. But my iMac was running slow. Time to replace it. It was from 2010, I got my money's worth out of it. And an Apple a day keeps the doctor away, as they say.\n\nI looked all over Apple's website. I needed the best iMac ever to fight this off. I can't live like this forever. iMac Pro sounds like a nice machine that will match my MacBook Pro. Both are also in Apple's iconic Space Gray, so they will look great together.\n\nI look at the specs. It obviously needs to be good enough to run my Facebook memes, but it also needs the power to fight off the cold. So I buy the best specs. 18-core Xeon? Sure thing. 128 GB ECC RAM? I'll take that too. 4TB of really fast PCIe-SSD's? Sign me up. That Radeon Pro Vega 64 GPU with 16 GB HBM2 memory? Definitely needed to deal with the cold. The total price of $15000 is going to hurt my personal economy, but the cost of dealing with the cold is what it is. Probably should have invested in medical insurance, but hindsight is 20/20.\n\nAnd all those PC fools who insist on using ugly computers where the computer isn't in the monitor will get so many viruses due to the terrible, terrible design. I laughed maniacally while ordering, my schadenfreude really sat in.\n\nWhen my new computer arrived, I was excited to remove this virus from my body once and for all.\n\nI booted the machine, and it felt like all my pain went away. My cold was gone as soon as the Apple appeared on-screen. I started to feel ecstatic, and it felt like I had taken way too many drugs, but my only drug was Apple. The display was so good that I cried tears of joy. It was so fast. Safari was snappy. As I took out the Magic Mouse, I could feel the magic in the design. I fainted from pure joy." ]	1
	[WP] One night you fall asleep in your bed and the next morning you wake up on Mars.	[ "Dear Diary,\n\n \n\nIt happened again. I got drunk with my friends from college and I got blackout drunk. God, why do I do this to myself? I could launch into a whole narrative of all the bad decisions I've made in life, how my marriage fell apart because of my drinking...and the cheating. Of course, I don't know if it's really cheating when you get so bombed that you have a blackout that lasts for a week. Needless to say, I've got problems.\n\n \n\nBut enough about my problems. Or more specifically, let's stop talking about all the other crap, and focus on the one big problem, the proverbial 800 pound gorilla bearing down on my ass with the fury of a Baptist preacher popping in to visit Studio 54 in it's heyday.\n\n \n\nI fucked up. No, actually, when I once got drunk and called my ex to see if she wanted to hook up and it led to us getting back together for six of the most depressing soul crushing years of my life. That was a fuck up.\n\n \n\nThis, whatever this thing is that I've gotten myself involved is beyond fucked up. I don't even know where to begin.\n\n \n\nBasically, I went out drinking with the boys to celebrate Dave's last night of bachelorhood. We went to the Filthy Mare, and got blitzed, and I just blacked out. Like completely out. \n\n \n\nNow I don't know what happened, but this is what I pieced together. I apparently volunteered to be part of a government experiment, and got shipped to Mars. Where apparently the stasis started wore off and the STP I had done started kicking back in, even though it was weeks later. Drugs that store themselves in fatty tissue are a bad idea, kids. Anyway, one thing led to another, and apparently I killed a space marine.\n\nSo this is it diary. The last entry, I hear them walking down the corridor for me now. There's so much I want to tell everyone, but I can't. I'm out of time, and there's also no way the Federation is going to bring back my diary and blow the cover on this place. Which is too bad, because there's really fucked up shit going on here that people need to know about because the people up here are in league with the aliens known as the Cathral and they plan to..." ]	1
	[WP] You have been selected to be the first human being to be "insta-cloned". At the lab you enter the chamber and 5 seconds later you wake up on the clone's side. You see everyone celebrating as you realise all your memories are fake. You have just been created.	[ "Of all those that volunteered, I had been the one to be chosen for the cloning experiment. Apparently, I had the most suitable genome, something about avoiding growth defects in the clone the scientists told me. If I had been quite excited about being selected, but the time had come to take the last step and I had become quite nervous. \n\n\n\"We will just sedate you now, and then use this to scan your brain\" explained calmly the lab assistant that had accompanied me while gesturing toward a machine that to my unprofessional eye looked pretty much identical to an MRI. \"We have all the genetic material we needed from the samples you provided last week, and the scans will be used to populate the mind of the clone \". \n\n\nI simply nodded and lain on the table while the assistant handed me an inhaler: \"Take deep breathes, and just count to ten in your head, ok?\"\n\n\nI nodded again before complying. One. I could hear the whirring of the large machine being turned on behind me. Two. A few scientists stood behind what seemed to be the machine's control panel, and the rest of them were gathered around a large cylindrical container on the other side of the room. Three. The container was opaque, and of the same clinical white color as the rest of the room. Several tubes and wires were plugged into the back of it and a screen on the side displayed text that I couldn't decipher and what looked like a heartbeat monitor and it hit me that it was most likely housing the clone. Four. The clone. _My clone_. How bizarre of an idea it was, but I was quite curious of how it would turn out. Five. The world faded into darkness...\n\n\n\n\nI regained my senses after what seemed like only instants. Through my still blurred vision, I could guess the faces of the scientists surrounding me, who got agitated as soon as I came to. With an unexpectedly high amount of effort, I trusted my upper body up into a sited position. Judging by the commotion punctuated by smile and high-fives among the lab-coated figures surrounding him, the experimented appeared to have been a success, and I looked around trying to catch a glimpse of the clone. Sure enough, I soon located an unconscious figure on a nearby table and my heart missed a beat. Saying that the resemblance was uncanny wouldn’t do it justice, and it felt like I was looking at a very creepy mirror. Before I could look longer at that familiar face that wasn’t truly mine, one of the scientists came toward me: “How are you feeling?”\n\n\n“Hum… good. A bit dizzy I guess, but that’s it” I answered. “Actually, I do feel a bit of an itch, pretty much everywhere. It’s not too disagreeable, just a bit weird.”\n“Well, that’s not really unexpected so it should be ok. Just tell us if you feel any pain at some point”\n“Will do” I said, before looking back at the facsimile on the table next to me. The light-headedness I had felt since waking was dissipating and I could observe all the details of what appeared to be a perfect copy. But the more I looked at it, the more my fascination turned to unease. The copy was _too perfect_, something felt wrong about it. And then I realized what was so disturbing: it was wearing the same clothes that I was wearing when I came to the lab. Why would they dress the clone in identical clothing? Unless… Staring at the small scar on the face of the clone, memory of a childhood bike accident, I brought up my hand to my own cheek, feeling nothing but smooth skin. A shiver made its way down my spine as I realized the truth with a growing sensation of dread: I wasn’t looking at the clone, I was looking at myself. _I_ was the clone. My blood felt like it was getting colder, and I started shaking uncontrollably while the implication of that fact made their way through my mind. There was a whole life in my head, childhood memories, a college education, a wife, and none of it was mine. It was _his_, and he was the one that would get to go home to my wife, his wife, while I would be left behind, a life that was never mine robbed away from me. My existence in this world had only started a few minutes ago, and yet it seemed like it was already over: everything that I knew, everything that I was, everything that made me a person was not actually mine, but his. My shaking intensified, my breathing becoming irregular as if my chest needed to bear the weight of this existential dread for every breath it stole, and my head fell into my hands, my fingers going though hair that shouldn’t have been this long. Noticing my distress, the scientists converged around me, one of them putting his hand on my shoulder: “Are you okay? What’s wrong? Are you in pain?” The only answer that I could muster was the question that now occupied all of my thoughts: “What’s going to happen to me, when he wakes up?” There was silence for a few moments, then the answer: “Well… this might be hard to hear but… Sorry, he is not going to wake up”. I probably should have been shocked, or sad, or maybe angry. But all I could feel was relief.\n" ]	1
	[WP] You see a man running side by side with your car. You’re doing 60mph.	[ "Ellie swore loudly and slammed on the brakes as the man reached for her car's door handle. He shot past her, the brakes fighting her car's momentum more successfully than the man could fight his own. She scrabbled for the blade in her glove compartment, all too aware of the man turning back towards her. The silver dagger came free of its sheath, and the next moment she was out of her door and rolling to avoid her adversary's grasping hands. She felt his claws brush her coat and she instinctively lashed out with the weapon. It traced a line of red across the man's torso, eliciting a ear-splitting screech of rage. His features twisted, the pain breaking past the facade to reveal his true nature. Teeth as long as long as her index fingers gnashed as saliva dripped from his oversized jaw. His eyes were wholly black, filled with hatred for the slender girl that stood opposite him. Ellie didn't even seem to register the change, leaping forward and swinging the dagger towards the monstrosity. He back-pedalled inhumanly fast, trying to avoid the gleaming death she held in her hand, but she was faster still. Hatred turned to fear as the blade sunk into his neck, sealing his fate. He sank to his knees, blood bubbling from his monstrous mouth.\n\nEllie sighed, wiping the blood from her weapon on the man's ragged trousers then opened her boot. Things were worse than she'd thought, she'd only crossed the border an hour ago and she'd already run into a Fallen. They were getting bold, the coven must have more power in New Vancouver than she'd thought. She pulled the petrol can from her boot, tipping a modest amount over the Fallen's body before striking a match and dropping it onto her defeated foe. The wail of anguish lasted several seconds before the fire caught properly, silencing the sound with a sudden increase of heat and light. Moments later, all that remained was a pile of light grey ash. She turned away, replacing the can, and pulled a huge wrapped bundle out from the boot. It was taller than her by over a foot, but she carried it with no apparent difficulty.\n\nShe placed it on the passenger seat and accelerated away from the scene of the battle. Once she had reached cruising speed, she reached out and unwrapped the top of the bundle to reveal the hilt of a sword. She caressed it tenderly, then whispered “I guess I'm going to be needing you sooner than I thought.” She turned her eyes back to the road. Time to make some trouble.", "This cop... man... I thought I could get away.\n\nIt all started when I noticed this cop car trying to pull me over. I had some illegal things in the car, so I came up with a plan. I'd pull over and then as soon as he got next to the car I'd take off, get a head start. So I did just that.\n\nProblem was, as soon as I hit the gas, he started running. And he kept up. I looked at the speedometer and as it was approaching 60, he wasn't even winded. Didn't even look like he was trying. Long story short, I stopped. He arrested me and charged me with evasion plus the charges of what I had in the car (I don't wanna talk about that part).\n\nAt my trial they showed the dash cam footage of what happened. It was then that I realized I was just stuck in the snow and my tires were spinning without me actually going anywhere...", "\"Go!\" I tell him. \"You got to be faster!\" \n\nHe looked over to me, he was wearing his high school track outfit.\n\nThere was nothing, just me and him in the void. I press the petal down, trying to go faster. Then I can hear the crowd cheering. \n\n\"You're gonna win.\" I say. \"They will want you on the state college team. Nancy is going there too. Life is going to be good.\"\n\nI look ahead of us, searching for the finish line--but then all I could see was a little girl stopped on the crosswalk.\n\n\"Get out of the way!\" I try to turn the wheel, but it is stuck--and no matter how hard I press down on the brakes it doesn't slow me down at all.\n\nWhen I open my eyes again I am in the hospital. My dad is there, and looks like he had been crying. My couch was there, he looked down and couldn't look me in the eyes. Then the cops were there. \n\n\"We have a couple questions.\" They said." ]	3
	[WP] The first manned moon-base was abandoned, leaving a lone janitor to upkeep the base.	[ "George wandered the halls aimlessly. He had swept, mopped, waxed, dusted, polished, and shined. There was nothing left to do, but he was tired of just finishing his tasks and going back to sleep. \n\nRacket-ball was little fun by ones self, but it was better than nothing. You could do more here than on Earth. Gravity was less. The ball moved differently.\n\nGeorge left the ball and racket there. Nobody would mess with them.\n\nHe looked out the rec-room's huge viewing window, to the solar array that powered the base, and then to Earth. With a strange and unfamiliar longing, he reached out, laying a hand on the glass. \n\nLogic told him it would be cold, but he couldn't feel it. He knew he was touching the glass, but he couldn't feel that, either. Nor could he feel the drafts of air that swept through the base, even though he was aware of them.\n\nBut he could feel his loneliness. That was something he had learned in his lifetime. Friendship, comradery, relations. And when they all left him, he learned loneliness. And longing. And wishing. \n\nHe wished he was never able to learn. Then the heart he didn't have wouldn't feel so heavy.\n\nGeorge withdrew his hand from the window, and looked at it. The series of metal pins and rubber pads and tiny hydraulics that allowed him to function, and he cursed he creators. \n\nFor they had let him learn loneliness." ]	1
Want CC or feedback? Just ask.	[WP] A child of a single parent has decided to become an assassin to help pay the bills. Unfortunately, it looks like mom/dad is home early from work.	[ "My phone buzzes. I wipe my hands off on Mr. Baker's pressed white shirt and pick it up. It's from Dad.\n\n\"Be homme in 5! Lovve u!\"\n\nShit. SHIT. I forgot he was taking a half day today. I glance at the dead man spread-eagled on my floor. Shhhiiiiiit. Gotta buy some time...a text should do it.\n\n\"Hey daddy! Can you stop at the store and pick me up some tampons? It's shark week again...\"\n\nI wince as I hit send. I know it'll give me the time I need, but still.\n\nI look down at my mark. Preston Baker. He's definitely got the creepy receding hairline/tiny moustache duo down. Gross. He was hitting on my client's daughter or something. You'd think weirdo stalkers would do their best to not look like weirdo stalkers, but who knows. Maybe he thought it looked cool. Right now, though, all I care about is that he's fat as hell and bleeding all over the carpet.\n\nIf I had time I could dispose of him properly, but for now, I guess my old toy chest will have to do. I grab hold of his cankles (would it have killed him to go on a diet?) and drag him up the stairs. He makes a flabby thud as he hits the bottom of the chest. I can just barely close the lid. Great. Now I just have to clean up.\n\nHis blood is all over the rug. Ok, I got a bit carried away. Shit. I clean it up the best I can, but there's a part that needs to soak for a few hours. And I don't have a few hours.\n\nI pull some Kool-Aid out of the fridge. \"Sorry, Dad\" I mumble as the artificial red coloring masks the organic brown stain.\n\nI notice my bloodstained clothing. I doubt \"girl troubles\" is gonna explain all this. As the red-tinted water goes down the drain, I wonder how many times I've done this same action. I hear Dad pulling into the driveway just as I'm tucking my work clothes into the top of my closet.\n\nI rush downstairs to greet him. He gives me a hug and awkwardly hands me a box of maxipads. Close enough.\n\nI'm about to ask him how his day went when we spot them at the same time. A pair of worn out, ugly brown loafers. Mr. Baker's.\n\nDad looks at me, and I stutter, \"Look, I can explain....\"\n\n\"Young lady, I don't want to know anything about your sexual exploits. I assume he's out of the house and just forgot his shoes?\"\n\nI nod silently.\n\n\"Good. Just don't let it happen again.\"\n\nI smirk. No promises, Dad.\n\n\nCC welcome! Thanks for reading!\n\nEDIT: Changed sentence structure, word choice, etc", "My life was completely turned around when I turned 13. Before then, the bills were always paid, and I was never wont for anything despite having a single mother who worked a minimum-wage job in an unlivable city. This changed when I turned 13 and received a letter from my biological father’s partner. I had never met my biological father; my mother had described him as the worst of the worst with the best thing she ever did being leaving the man. I guess my birth was number two. After grabbing the mail that dreary day, I noticed the letter at the bottom of the stack addressed to our house without a return address. My mother had never actually put my father’s name on anything before, so it took me a while to recognize that the letter was addressed to me. Timothy Peterson.\n\nDear Timothy,\n\nI hope this letter finds you in good health. I am writing you because your father recently died, and his last wish was to continue to help you and your mother. Without your father, I do not have a partner, but I know from his talk of you that you would make a suitable partner. Therefore, in order for this arrangement to continue, I will be asking for your assistance. Meet me on Saturday evening at the corner of 8th and Broad. There we can discuss the future.\n\nMr. Phillips\n\nThat Saturday evening, I met my father’s partner and learned that he had been a contract-killer with Mr. Phillips. That was how he had paid all our bills over the years. He had had an arrangement with my mother that she still had to work in order to make the money, so that was why she had worked despite the fact that everything was going to be paid from the money my father sent religiously to her every month. In order to continue to receive these payments, Mr. Phillips wanted me to join him on this endeavor. Originally, I did not think that this would work out given that I was a teenager, but I ultimately decided to go through the training for my mother’s sake.\n\nA year later, I had already been on over a dozen with Mr. Phillips acting as his wingman mostly because apprentices in the field of contract killing were hard to come by and bodies were heavy. I mostly did the heavy lifting, something that took me a little bit of getting used to since I was just in the middle of hitting my growth spurt and had not bulked up at this time. Now that I was starting to gain the skills to kill from Mr. Phillip’s careful tutelage, he gave me the opportunity to start planning my first kill, a murder at the Governor’s Re-election Campaign Ball.\n\nAfter school one day, I was planning in the kitchen. Below everything, I had a map of each floor of the Governor’s Mansion. There was one side that gave a list of everyone that was invited to the ball and the list of all the caterers and staff that would be on hand for the massive Re-election Campaign Ball. On top of this all, I had the dossier on the man that Mr. Phillips and I were sent to kill. One of the governor’s biggest supporters was in fact a wanted man by the Russian mob, and they wanted us to take him out to settle the debts publicly and get their puppet into office instead. Mr. Phillips did not like assignments this public, but he had settled on this being a teachable assignment. Because he did not trust me, simultaneously the two of us were planning this assignment and together we would decide as partners which method would work.\n\nI was frantically working on my plan that afternoon because I wanted to show him that I had learned something and would make a decent partner. This past year had been wonderful for me as I had learned the trade. In talking with Mr. Phillips, I felt closer to my father than I had ever been before. This had been wonderful since I had never known the man before, but I was obviously quite similar to him, at least according to Mr. Phillips.\n\nRight as I was in the middle of finishing off the plan, I heard the lock twist. I was trying to move all the paper in a quick frenzy, but there was no time. My mother was already in the door before I had enough time to get the papers in my hand.\n\n“What on God’s green Earth do you have there, Timothy Peter Dickinson?” My mother shouted.\n\n“Nothing.”\n\n“That doesn’t look like nothing, Son. What are all these maps doing here? Who are all these people?” She shouted angrily. It was at that moment that I noticed the light bulb flash on in her head. “Oh, you have got to be kidding me. Not you too! Get out! Get out of here before I call the cops! You cannot stay in my house if you are doing the same things as your father!”\n\n“Mother, I’m doing this for you!” I shouted back.\n\n“Call Mr. Phillips! He and I need to talk,” my mother commented. “Until we do, you cannot staying here.”\n\nIt was at that moment that I learned my mother knew my father was a contract killer and had accepted it. She had not particularly cared that the dirty money had paid her bills and fed me all these years. She just did not want to have anything to do with the actual bad work. Now that it was once again in her house, she was ashamed. I could not stop working with Mr. Phillips though if I wanted her to have this lifestyle. It was time for me to leave, just like my father. I guess a son does follow in his father’s footsteps." ]	2
Basically, write a story about an infohazardous entity, where knowing or conveying information about the entity is dangerous in some way.	[WP] Do not talk about █████. Do not write about █████. Do not refer to █████ using any name. The more you know about █████, the more █████ knows about you.	[ "\"Hello,\" the man on the screen said, \"I want you to pay very close attention. This could be your only warning, I don't know if anyone else will be able to get the message out. I don't know if anyone else is even still alive. This is very, very important. Don't look at it, don't listen to it, don't even think about it.\"\n\nI could hear the emphasis he put into the word 'it'. This wasn't in my job description. I was meant to show up at 12 am, grab my security guard ID card, patrol until 6, then go home and come back the next day at the same time to do the same thing. I was not meant to find a cryptic video playing on all the screens in the security office on my first night. Looking through the window to a few of the other rooms down the hall from the office, I noticed that it was playing on all the screens I could see. How the hell would they even set that up?\n\n\"I know this must sound strange,\" the man continued, \"but if you are seeing this you must leave immediately. I can't leave the room that I'm in, or it will find me, and I can't trigger the alarm from here. Really, I'm just delaying the inevitable by hiding in here anyways. I know about it. It will figure out where I am eventually.\"\n\nThat's when I understood. He was going to tell me that this 'it' thing had broken containment, 'it' had killed the entire staff, and I needed to get away and spread the word to the world that 'it' was coming for anyone that knew about 'it'. Hell of a practical joke to play on me the first night I worked here. They must have guessed that I'd be nervous on my first night at such a high-security lab and decided to have a bit of fun. Hell, the place had an alarm system that would enter lock-down if the wrong door was opened at night, thinking about what would need that level of security would freak anyone out just a bit. This place was creepy enough without the prank, I kept on thinking I saw motion out of the corners of my eyes, in every doorway and down every hall.\n\n\"I've set this broadcast to loop every ten minutes, and to display on every screen I can remotely access in the facility. That should ensure that anyone coming in here will see it, and hopefully you'll know what to do. I'm sorry if I've already given you too much information, it's difficult to determine what exactly you'll need to know to deal with the situation, and what will alert it to your presence. This is Dr. John Green, Security Number 99873, signing o-\"\n\nThat's when his head exploded. You might think that I'm exaggerating when I say that, but I'm not. It full on exploded, shards of skull and bits of brain flying in all directions. At this point I was ready to leave. The pay was good, but not good enough to put up with this shit. The only problem was that the doors locked automatically when I came in, and wouldn't open until my shift ended. The person I spoke to about the job mentioned it was a security measure, but I don't see why it's necessary. All I have is a walkie-talkie, and that thing is only good for contacting the other security guard, who called in sick today.\n\n&nbsp;\n\nIt's 3 am now, I'm halfway through my shift. I gave up on patrolling two hours ago. I assumed that someone would have appeared to tell me that it's all a prank by now. I've rewatched the video countless times, trying to see a muzzle flash, trying to see anything that would cause that kind of damage to a person. All that I've noticed is a small distortion in the video the instant before Dr. Green's head explodes, that looks almost like a translucent figure reaching for him from just behind him and to his right. I can't help but wonder if that's the it that he was talking about. I can't help but wonder if it will be coming for me soon. I wonder if it will come for you soon, too, now that you've read this. The feeling of seeing movement out of the corners of my eyes is becoming more frequent. It has been since I saw the video for the first time. God save me. God save me. I don't want to die. I'm not ready to die yet. God sav", "I sat down across from Thomas, setting down his coffee. \"Cold day today, isn't it?\" \n\nTomas looked over and smiled, accepting the coffee \"Thank you, and yes, yes it is\" \n\n\"So\" I say taking a sip from my coffee \"What brings you to these parts?\"\n\n\"Oh, you know, just to see the world\" Tomas smiled and continued to look out the window. \"See the sights\"\n\n\"That's cool\" I say taking another sip of coffee \"I wonder where you'll go next\" \n\nHe keeps looking out of the window, and he doesn't drink his coffee at all, just keeps on staring \"Yes, I wonder\"\n\n\"Where do you want to go?\" \n\n\"I don't know, Asia, Africa-\" \n\nI interrupt him and yell out his name, the black eyes of Tomas fade and the man falls dead. I got him talking about where he wants to go and made him go straight into me. It wasn't that hard, as it wasn't very good at discerning human behavior. One of the last actions I did before I lost control was press the button allowing the groups of soldiers into the building. \n", "Here I am, Dr. Blackley. You are Manfred Blackley, PhD. How do I know this? You spoke a name once, a name that sticks to me, almost as effectively as your name sticks to you.\n\nYou can keep trying to ignore me. You are quite good at it. For thirty and one risings of your sun you have ignored me. Amazing, really. You have kept me here, thinking to starve me, but I am hardier than you think.\n\nI have fed on your name tag, Dr. Blackley. On your credit card in your pocket. On the number of hairs that cover your left arm. All of these provide information, and information is sustenance for me. You seem startled by this, afraid. More information for my stomach.\n\nI divine your purpose from your eyes. You want me dead, so you can return to Maria. Manfred and Maria. So cute, your alliterative marriage. You had her moved as soon as you knew what I was. You used your influence to shut down this wing of the hospital. Now it's just you and I.\n\nBelieve me, I would kill you if I could. But this bouncy little ball of meat is hardly fit to crush your windpipe. I know too well my own bones, their weakness and lack of hardness. But in counterpoint, are you able to kill me?\n\nI think not. You're a gentle man at heart. You wouldn't break the body you worked so long to make, you and Maria. It took you four years. Here I am, Dr. Blackley. Your son, Coleman Blackley. A monster? Maybe. But still your son. You don't have it in you to stop me from devouring all of the knowledge, all of the information in this world. Because I . . . Oh, surprising. You do have the guts.", "The city was quiet as Eric walked through the downtown district. For a big city such as this, it was odd that no one was walking round. It made Eric uneasy. He put in his earbuds as he walked by empty building after empty building. He noticed that even his music felt hollow and decided to walk in silence. He shoved his hands into his coat pockets in hopes that maybe there was warmth somewhere inside of them. The sound of his shoes softly slapping the pavement echoed faintly as he continued to walk. Eric looked up at a building to his right, brick apartments sat on top of department stores. The apartments looked to be about seven or eight levels high. Something caught Eric’s attention on the fifth floor above a small clothing store. A pale face with purple bags under her eyes was looking directly at Eric. She couldn’t have been more than twenty five. Eric was relieved to finally see another face. As he began to wave hello, a look of dread came over her face and she slammed her wooden shutters closed. Eric slowly let his hand down in confusion. \n\nWhat the hell is going on today? He thought to himself. He was starting to feel very anxious. He pulled out his phone to check the news, but all he could find were fluff stories about animals and one article about how the country was the best country in the world. He put his phone away. He wanted to go home. Eric took a left at the pedestrian intersection and followed the steps that lead into the subway. He came into the entryway and came up to the turnstile. He took out his subway pass and moved it past the scanner. Nothing. No green light, no beep. Eric pursed his lips and tried to scan it again. Still nothing. He kicked the turnstile out of frustration and the metal gate opened and shut quickly. Cautiously, Eric placed his hand on the gate and slowly pushed it open and walked through. He let go of the gate and it shut with a loud, metallic clang. \n\n“Who’s there?” A voice shouted from seemingly nowhere. Eric’s stomach dropped and his heart leaped into his throat. \n\n“Ummm, hi…” Eric’s voice hardly carried past his lips. \n\n“Come here so I can see you.” said the voice. Eric looked around at the empty subway station.\n\n“Uh, where are you?” Eric asked.\n\n“Just take a few steps forward. I’m not going to hurt you, I just want to see who you are.” Eric did as the voice asked and shook his head in confusion. \n\n“What are you talking about? Who are you?” Eric asked. An old man with a tinfoil hat emerged from the shadows. He wore ragged clothes, had a dirty beard, and he smelled like he hasn’t showered in weeks. Eric guessed he was homeless. \n\n“Eric, Eric, Eric. To be honest, I was hoping that you and I would never meet,” said the old man. “This is quite unfortunate. It seems your luck has taken a turn for the worse.”\n\n“OK, stop being so secretive. What is going on today? Where is everyone? How do you know my name?” asked Eric, the annoyance in his voice becoming more apparent. The old man picked out his words with extreme care. \n\n“There are many things for you to know, but it’s not safe to talk here. You have to be hidden first,” said the homeless man, pointing to his tinfoil hat. “One is protected. One is safe.” Eric scoffed. \n\n“Ok this has got to be some sort of prank or something. You are just some bat-shit crazy old man. Everything is fine, I must've taken a wrong turn or something, I’m outta here.” Eric turned on his heel and began to walk away, but the old man clicked his tongue disappointingly. \n\n“That’s what one is lead on to believe, Eric. Can’t you see that nothing is the same? Tell me, what were you doing yesterday?” The old man raised one eyebrow questioningly. Eric opened his mouth to answer, but no words came out. He shut his mouth and went deep into thought. What was he doing yesterday? He couldn’t remember, but not just yesterday he couldn’t remember anything. Not his last name, where he was from, his favorite color or even where he got his clothes from. The old man laughed. \n\n“See! I’m right! You’ve got no clue who you are,” he said. “It’s my job to help you Eric, and I can help, but you have to trust me.” Eric nodded slowly.\n\n“No. You have to say it.” \n\n“But how can I trust you?” Eric asked. “What is stopping me from walking away right now?”\n\n“Nothing is stopping you, Eric, but if you leave things are going to happen to you. Horrible things.” said the old man, with a look of absolute seriousness on his face. “I know more about this world than you do. My knowledge is the difference life and death for you. It’s your choice though.” Eric closed his eyes and let out a deep breath.\n\n“I trust you,” said Eric. “So what in the hell is-” The old man interrupted him.\n\n“Wait, you need this first.” He pulled a spare tinfoil hat from under some magazines. \n\n“Do I really have to put it on?” asked Eric. The old man nodded vigorously. Eric blew a little bit of dirt off the hat and put it on his head. \n\n“Quickly then, we haven’t much time. Follow me.” said the old man, grabbing Eric by the wrist, his dirty fingernails dug into his skin and the old man lead him into the shadows. \n\nEric had never experienced darkness like this before. It was so dark, that Eric could see little spots dancing around his vision. He pulled out his phone and turned on the flashlight setting. The light quickly lit up a small corridor made from dirty tiles. A rat scurried out of the light. The old man hastily turned around and smacked the phone out of Eric’s hand. The phone screen cracked on impact, but the light was still on. The old man gave the phone one swift stomp and the corridor went dark again.\n\n“Why the fuck did you do that?” asked Eric angrily. \n\n“Because light like that makes us easier to find.” Eric couldn’t see the old man, but he felt his warm breath on his nose. It smelled rank. “Just follow quietly.” \n\nThe old man continued to lead Eric through the dark corridor. After what felt like hours and lots of twists and turns, Eric could make out a faint silhouette of the old man as he headed toward a faint light. \n\nThey arrived in a little storage room dimly lit by a candle. The room was filthy, food wrappers lay everywhere. The old man plopped down onto a small mattress that didn’t have any sheets. Eric cleared off some trash from a fold up chair and sat down. \n\n“Are you ready for the truth?” asked the old man. Eric rubbed the nape of his neck. \n\n“Yeah, I’ve been ready for a bit. What the hell is going on?” \n\n“I am a Seer, Eric. A seer is someone who can truly see the world around them as it was meant to be. You are a host. A host is someone the world was created for, to be experienced. You have been asleep for some time. For how long, I am not quite sure. But to ensure your safety, Eric, you must go back to sleep. The world is a dangerous place of which you are not in control. This is His world. If you are to stay awake much longer, you will most likely be killed. Or worse.” The old man held eye contact with Eric. “Do you have any questions?” Eric nodded.\n\n“Uh yeah, of course I have fucking questions. What do you mean this is his world?” The old man got up quick, waving and motioning his arms at the room around them. \n\n“This, Eric!” The old man knocked on the walls. “Can’t you tell? Eric shook his head.\n\n“Not really, I mean. Everything seems normal.” The old man shook his head.\n\n“Of course it does, that’s what he wants you to believe. He is very good at deception. It’s how he lures in his victims!” said the old man. “That’s the reason you can’t remember anything! He woke you.” Eric hesitated a moment before responding.\n\n“Who exactly is ‘he’?” \n\n“I am not exactly sure what He looks like, and if I found out I wouldn’t be here to tell you about Him, but he is always watching, the hats protect us.” said the old man, adjusting his tinfoil hat so it fit a little better. Eric shook his head.\n\n“This is all bullshit.” said Eric, taking off his hat. \n\n“No stop! Put it back on! You don’t know what you are doing!” \n\n“He isn’t real. None of this is real, you are just some crazy old man high on meth or some shit. I’m better off on my own.” The ground began to shake, throwing Eric off balance and onto the ground. The old man tumbled from his mattress like a rag doll. The ground was quite once again, and a deep rumble echoed throughout the corridor, outside of the storage room. The old man shot up from off the ground, and scrambled to put Eric’s tinfoil hat back on his head. \n\n“You fuckin’ idiot! We gotta go!” The old man pulled Eric from off the ground. He grabbed the chair Eric had been sitting on, climbed on top of it, and began to move ceiling tiles.\n\n“What are you doing? What was that?” asked Eric, his eyes wide with bewilderment. The old man ignored him as he scurried into the opening he created in the ceiling. \n\n“Get the fuck up here, now!” Eric quickly got onto the chair and made his way into the opening. The crawl space was small, if Eric were to get on his knees he would have hit his head. The old man quickly placed the tiles back into place, enclosing them in darkness once again. \n\n“Be very quiet.” whispered the old man. Eric didn’t respond. After a few moments of silence, the door to storage room broke open. Eric could hear breathing from below, it sounded animalistic, almost like a bull. Something slowly stalked into the room below them, with nails gently clicking against the tile floor. It began to rummage around, as if looking for something. Unable to find what it was searching for, a loud hellish scream sounded from the room, followed by the slow clicking of the nails leaving the room. The old man let out a sigh of relief. \n\n“That was one of his minions. Do you believe me now?” asked the old man.\n\n“Yeah, I do.” said Eric sheepishly.\n\n“Good. We need to find a way to get you back to sleep as quickly as possible.” said the old man. \n\n“Ok, where do we start?” asked Eric.\n\n“No clue, but I think I know someone who might. Let’s go.”\n", "\"The one who shall not be named...?\" Garrick offered hopefully, his aged whisper of a voice rising in question as he spoke.\n\nCarris shook her head, her once dark hair now tinged with grey shimmying with the motion. She sat back in the wooden chair, dejectedly, frowning at the collection of tomes and scrolls scattered across the broad tabletop. She raised a single finger, then brought it down atop the tome open in front of her, her nail landing precisely below the blank space in the line of text.\n\n\"No. That won't work. It says right here 'Do not refer to ...\", she paused, looking around significantly to emphasize the blank, before continuing, \"using any name.', we can't just give... It... a different name, because it's smart enough to work out we're still talking about it.”\n\nGarrick seems to deflate, crumpling in on himself, the wrinkles on his face being accentuated as he pouted in confused defeat. Carris sighed, looking around the table at the others seated with her in the high council. Five of the greatest minds of their generation, tasked with solving a seemingly unsolvable problem that had lingered for generations:\n\nHow do you warn a populace of an enemy, when discussing or even thinking about the enemy empowered them?\n\nGarrick represented the largest of the current religions and was considered an expert on morality. He was, however, regrettably poor at thinking outside the box.\n\nCarris herself was a scholar of philosophy, a subject matter which required a great deal of coming at topics at odd angles in an attempt to explore concepts. But when the concept itself was aware and toxic, even the tools of philosophy seemed inadequate.\n\nMillin was a politician, making him seem both superfluous and vital to the endeavor. Politicians would most likely be the ones to implement whatever policy they came up with. They were also fairly expert in twisting words and understanding the desires of the populace… But still, a politician.\n\nBatok and Soloas were married. Batok was a master of linguistics, while Soloas was one of the foremost mathematicians in the known world. Perhaps if their child stopped distracting them, they might come up with some way to express the adversary in a way that it could not leverage. For now Soloas watched the child in the corner as it, blessedly, quietly played with a series of wooden blocks.\n\nThe elders who wrote the books had left spaces, gaps in the histories in their attempt to get around the problem. They were reasonably confident that this would not draw the attention of… Carris shook her head, trying to squirm around the concept. But the problem was the populace.\n\nIf Garrick left this room and warned his ‘flock’ or even some of his family not to think of ‘The one who shall not be named’, then a day later that warning could have shot through the entire population like a wildfire, drawing the attention of the… Thing beyond. Which would cause disaster.\n\nThe books were also clear, however, that the… darkness must not be forgotten. It would return at some point, manifesting into the world, and if the world then turned their attention to it they would simply make it stronger. The world needed to know how to ignore something without you ever actually telling them to ignore it.\n\nBatok growled in frustration, slapping the tabletop and causing the scroll before him to bounce, unfurling a few more lines unevenly as it came to settle again.\n\n“It’s not possible!”, he complained to the room at large, sitting back and pressing his fingers against the bridge of his nose, his voice tight with frustration.\n\nThe rest of the table looked to him, some sleepily, some mildly alarmed by the sudden outburst, and his wife with a frown of consternation that he would risk upsetting their child to say what they all already feared.\n\n“According to the scrolls, as far as the Elders could tell, the… Thing… Was infinitely intelligent. It is vaguely aware of our entire world, but mentions of it feed it a tiny portion of power and thus draw its attention. Thinking about … Such things directly, has a similar effect, but giving such an entity a name is worse. But whatever way you refer to it still becomes linked to the concept and thus linked to the thing itself!”, Batok continued\n\n“Which means, linguistically, there’s no way around this. Even if you were to pause when referring to such a force, you risk that pause becoming associated with it. Then every time anyone pauses in a conversation, it could feed the blasted evil. The Elders were fairly confident that if you used a different name each time, it did the least harm, but there’s no way to get a populace to actually do that… If we warn the wider world, within a generation they will fall into the habit of using this term or that and then the whole exercise is for naught.”, Batok concluded, slumping back in his chair wearily and sighing.\n\nCarris looked around the table and saw Garrick, Batok and Millin doing the same, each looking concerned and lost and hopeful. Each a mirror of her own feelings, seeing no solution but hoping that one of the other great minds present did.\n\nFor more than a century the unspoken council had met, a small cabal of the greatest minds meeting but once a decade to debate and discuss the problem for no more than three days. The invitees had shifted over the years as members became too old to continue, the numbers varying slightly but never more than a dozen. Enough to keep the knowledge alive, to consider the problem, and to be trusted with not speaking or thinking about the problem too much between meetings so as to make the other aware.\n\n\nThis was Carris’ second time in attendance, Garrick’s third and probably last. The other three were new and she and Garrick had rather hoped they would bring some new insight. So far they had not.\n\nCarris frowned, looking at Millin, Batok and Soloas. New members were selected by unanimous decision of the existing, brought in from as disparate locations as possible to protect the knowledge from loss to cataclysm or plague. It also reduced the risk of members discussing the problem when not in council. \n\nThey had not realised Batok and Soloas were married, or they would not have invited both of them. Carris had only realised they were married after they had both sworn the oaths and had the great dilemma described to them, and by then it was too late to do much about it. The risk of a married couple discussing or thinking on the issue between sessions was too great a risk, even with their vows not to, triply so if both people in the couple were members. The council preferred the unmarried and the celebrate, to minimse risks, but mistakes and exceptions were made from time to time.\n\nSoloas had been animated and brilliant during the first day, suggesting ways to express the dilemma as a pattern or a formula. But Millin had pointed out much the same problem that Batok just had; You give that to the populace and before you know it, they’ve given the formula or symbol a name and then you’re just as worse off as having used an alias. Since then Soloas had seemed disconnected, seeming to listen and react when people made suggestions, but more interested in watching her child play than adding anything.\n\nThe whole process was disheartening… It always was. That’s why they’d been meeting for a century with no luck. How do you teach a populace to not think of something? People are stubborn, tell them not to think of an elephant and they’ll think of it out of instinct or spite.\n\nCarris sighed, glancing towards the dwindling fireplace and the hour glass draining above it. Maybe an hour or two until the end of the third day, then they would all be dispatched back to their homes with sealed chests containing some portion of the books and scrolls, to spend the next decade waiting and trying not to think on the greatest problem in the world. It truly was maddening.\n\nCarris shut the book before her and rose, feeling tired and defeated, “Alright… I know there’s a few hours left, but I think we’re done here. Would anyone object to us finishing a few hours early?”\n\nCarris looked around the table, Botak and Millin nodding to her, Garrick giving her a small frown.\n\n“It’s unusual…”, Garrick intoned, eyeing her suspiciously… Before shrugging and closing his own tome, “... But not unprecedented.”\nGarrick was halfway to standing, his hands beginning to draw tomes and scrolls in towards him when Soloas spoke, her voice quiet and contemplative, but something in the tone freezing them all in place.\n\n“What about a game?”, she asked, still watching her child playing with the blocks. Something in the way she said it gave Carris pause, wondering if that far off expression that had seemed like indifference had perhaps been more… Contemplative.\n\nMillin frowned, his eyes half rolling in frustration, before he caught himself and plastered on one of those smiles that don’t quite reach the eyes.\n\n“My dear…”, Millin drawled in painfully patient tones that made Batok set his jaw, “ ...If you’d like a game of cards, I’m sure you can find something in a tavern on your way home. There’s no need to keep all of us trapped down here-...”\n\n“No, no, no.”, Soloas said, cutting in over the top of him. She seemed oblivious to the condescension in his tone, her eyes still set upon her infant, but there was a vigor to her tone, the impatience of someone with an idea on the edge of their tongue, who’s worried if the don’t speak it quickly it will be lost.\n\nSoloas rose, moving to her child and collecting a couple of the blocks he was not using, then returning them to the table, looking around to make sure she had everyone’s attention, eyes sparkling.\n\n“Why don’t we turn all of this…”, Soloas gestured towards all the books with a hand, then picked up a block shook it for emphasis, “ … into this?”\n\n[TBC in Comments]", "\"Alright David, all we need from you is what you saw in the basement of the warehouse...\" The police officers sentence began to trail off as he looked from his notepad to David.\nThey had found David curled into a ball, surrounded by bodies, and in the basement of a warehouse. When they had initially approached him they tried to make contact and figure out what had happened. Upon getting close to David though, he proceeded to make a blood-curdling scream. It took them three hours to even get him to respond much less communicate in full sentences. \n\n\"David are you alright?\" The police officer asked, hoping that THIS would be the time that David finally communicated back to them.\n\nA whispered \"No...\" was all that escaped from his lips.\n\n\"Can I get you anything? Water, pop, food? Anything?\"\n\nAfter some time of an eerie silence, David finally began to speak.\n\n\"It came from...I think the shadows...\"\n\n\"What did\"\n\n\"IT did\"\n\n\"What was or is IT\" \n\n\"No...you don't want to know what IT is, if it even is a thing...those people in the warehouse...they joked about it...thought that it was just some prank on a website. They were wrong.\"\n\"DO NOT WRITE THAT!\" The sudden yell from David made the officer jump, causing the word to trail off.\n\n\"What do you mean? Why can't I write any of this down?\"\n\n\"It will find us...\"\n\n\"How can it find us?\"\n\n\"I don't know! It just does! Anyone who says the name or writes about it will come face to face with it!\"\n\n\"We'll be safe here David, there is nothing to wor-\" The officer stopped when there a gunshot heard in the next room.\n\nBANG\n\nBANG\n\nBANG\n\n\nThe gunshots were slow but seemed to be methodical. The officer ran to crouch underneath the window. David put his hands to either side of his head and began to scream just like when they found him originally.\n\n\"IT'S HERE! IT'S HERE! I KNEW I SHOULD NEVER HAVE SAID ANYTHING! IT KNEW!\"\n\n\"DAVID STOP YELLING...\" As the officer looked from the window to David, he saw a figure standing behind him. It was unlike any man, beast or fantasy he had ever known. Black as night, yet as dazzling as the sun, and a grin like that of a killer. As the cop moved to shoot it, the figure seemed to disappear and form inside of his mind.\n\n\"Don't be scared John, I mean you no harm. David has become corrupt, so I will need you to spread my good name.\" The voice came like a whisper on the back of his neck. \"I can promise you wonderful things, things you never even thought you wanted...\"\n\n\"GET OUT OF MY HEAD!\" As fast as it all had happened, it all went away. He sat there feeling a fear he had never known, with a cause he couldn't pinpoint. When he looked back up to see the scene, all he saw was the same grin that was on that monster was now painted in the wall. Painted with blood. A quick look confirmed that David, no longer screaming, was hunched over with a red pool spreading underneath his chair.\n\nAs John finally understood what had happened, the door burst open and two officers barged in, guns drawn.\n\n\"John What happened here?!\" The first asked with a panicked look on his face.\n\nJohn said nothing and looked past them. He didn't hear them. All he could hear was the voice that now plagued his mind. One that he could feel throughout his body.\n\nAs John finally came to and responded, he said only one thing.\n\n\"He who believes, has eternal life.\" With that John stared at the officers seeing the entity behind them, and seeing the lips curl to an unforgiving smile.\n\n", "Conversation isn't lulled into silence, it’s abruptly stopped. Mel looks at me, wide eyed and ashen, and then we both turn away with unspoken words dying in our throats. \n\nWe had already spoken too much, we realize this now. No name had been uttered, no information had passed between us, but we knew, and that was just as dangerous. \n\n“It’s getting dark outside,” she murmurs to fill the quiet void that had settled over us. She tugs the collar higher on her coat. Her fingers move to dance across herself in a fidgety manner, plucking at hairs that aren't there and flattening creases that won't go away. The lanyard around her neck jingles.\n\nHer movements stretch many minutes too long. There's a pattern to them - up, right, left, right, down, right - that I try not to memorize and when she stills, there’s a smile pulling her lips too high. Mel knows that this is wrong. Maybe that's why she is doing this.\n\nMaybe that's why I haven't walked away.\n\n“It's only going to get darker,” I respond, knowing full well that it is noon on a summer day. The words are innocent and true and neither all at once. Mel’s smile grows impossibly wider. \n\nShe knows too much. I know too much. \n\nThe lights in the hallway behind us flicker.\n\n“I was promised power,” she says as if it was an afterthought. \n\nI shift my weight to and from each foot. We had prevented ourselves once already from getting this far. It hadn't taken long to steer it back into these waters. \n\nI'm a bit disappointed in myself, to be honest, but I’ve never had much willpower. Curiosity yanked on me like a leash, leading me here. Maybe this conversation was always meant to happen. It wasn't likely and I don't believe in fate, but I believe in it. \n\nThere's a feeling, almost painful and barely real, lurking inside me. More of a suspicion, really. \n\nI have a feeling that it believes in me too.\n\n“I was promised the world,” I say, and my hands lift to punctuate my words. Up, right, left, right, down, right.\n\nMel's expression is still too wide and I could judge her for it, I could, but I know that my face matches hers. Same hair, same eyes, and same maniacal grin. \n\nHer lanyard reads, “Mel A,” and I glance down at my own. \n\n“Mel B,” it says. Down the hallway behind us, the other superstar hopefuls wait in their designated rooms, patiently and unaware, of the machine churning in the background. ", "I walked through the complex to my new posting, Site J- Section Delta. The Notification of Transfer in my hand had barely anything on it other than the location, and my new pay rate. The single instruction, \"Speak to supervisor\", was the only detail. I reached the site, and pressed the buzzer.\n\n\"Agent J45, reporting. I got transferred this morning.\"\n\n\"Come on down, level 6.\"\n\nI did as I was told, descending the concrete staircase identical to every other one on the campus, and pushed through the steel door to Level 6. I nodded at the guard on the desk, J21 according to his badge.\n\n\"Supervisor?\"\n\n\"Down the hall.\"\n\nThe supervisor was an older agent, slightly tubby. I guessed this would be a seated role, which he confirmed quickly.\n\n\"J45? Great. Last guy quit the other day, and they never tell me when I'm getting a replacement. I'm J04, I'm in charge around here.\"\n\n\"Can I ask why he quit?\" I said. The supervisor shrugged.\n\n\"Just didn't show up. It's best not to ask questions around here. In fact, those are our two informal rules; don't say anything, don't learn anything. Here.\" He handed me a small bottle of pills. \"Low-grade amnesiacs. Take them if anyone tells you anything... specific, they'll fuzz the last ten minutes.\"\n\nI nodded. I was used to redacted details, you had to be at the Org. I was lead across the hall to a small office with a bank of black screens, and what looked to be a polygraph machine, loaded with black paper.\n\n\"Ok, so this is your station. Any questions?\"\n\n\"Err, yeah. What's my job.\"\n\n\"You monitor.\"\n\n\"Monitor what?\"\n\n\"Classified.\"\n\n\"Ok... are those monitors connected?\n\n\"Yes.\"\n\n\"To what?\"\n\n\"Classified.\"\n\n\"And the polygraph?\"\n\n\"Classified.\"\n\n\"And what we do down here is....?\"\n\n\"Classified.\"\n\n\"Right.\"\n\n\"Any more questions, not that you should have any, and I'm just down the hall.\"\n\nI had a hundred more, but it was obvious I wouldn't, or shouldn't, get anywhere with the supervisor. I sat down at my station and waited. I was still waiting when the 6 PM alarm sounded, and I went home for the day.\n\nThe next morning I reported at 9AM, sat down at my station, and endured another day of nothing. I took a book with me on Wednesday, and by Friday I was itching with curiosity Something itched at my mind, and I had to know more. \n\nAs soon as I got to my station I locked the door, and examined the back of the monitors. Just as the supervisor said, they were connected, to what I couldn't tell. I went to the file cabinet in the corner, protocol dictated that every agent to have held the post would file reports in there, but I found it empty. \n\nI sighed and considered my actions. I could try hacking into the database; my previous posting was in IT, and I'd helped design the system before applying to be an agent, but if discovered I'd be disciplined, maybe fired.\n\nFuck it, I decided, and broke past the firewall. I found the documents relating to Site C, and loaded them up.\n\n> SITE C DESIGNATION: CONTAINMENT FACILITY: OCCUPANT(S): ███. \n\n> PERSONNEL AUTHORISED TO INTERACT WITH PRISONER(S): NONE\n\n> PERSONNEL AUTHORISED TO ACCESS DOCUMENTATION PERTAINING TO PRISONER(S): NONE\n\n> PERSONNEL AUTHORISED TO DOCUMENT PRISONER(S): NONE\n\nI came out the report, more confused than when I entered. I went further back, looking at the earliest reports available.\n\n> DO NOT READ THIS DOCUMENT. \n\n>We found ███ in ██████. At first we were captivated, it █████████████████████████████. We spoke with it, laughed with it, shared stories with it. It told us it was ████████████████, trapped █████████████, and we had released it. As a show of gratitude it would █████████████████████████. Of course we accepted, what fools we were. ██████ was the first to go. We heard him scream in the middle of the night, and when we investigated we found him ███████████████████. Next was ███████, after talking with ███ about ██████ we found him, ██████████████████████. One by one the others fell, each ███████████████████ than the last. After some further study it became known to use that the more we learnt of ███, the more ███ learnt of us, and the more it knew, the more it could affect us. ███ was not trapped, ███ was imprisoned. By whom we do not know, but it is clear the same must be done again. ███ must never be free.\n\nCreepy, but then the Org was known for being overly conservative. We made more use of the black highlighter than the CIA did. The only thing the document did was make me want to know more, not necessarily about the thing, but its containment, its capabilities.\n\nI wondered if the guard on the desk would have answers, so the following week I came in with a small metal box I'd labelled \"Classified\" in bold black ink.\n\n\"Hey,\" I said to J21. \"What way's containment?\"\n\n\"Containment?\" He said, looking panicked. \"Who told you Containment?\"\n\n\"HQ?\" I replied.\n\n\"Fucking idiots.\" he said. He fished through his desk for a small box of pills, taking one himself and offering a second to me.\n\n\"Amnesiac?\" I said.\n\n\"Yeah. Remember, don't say anything, don't learn anything. Classified is down the hall, second left, door at the end.\"\n\n\"Thanks.\"\n\n\"Don't mention it. Literally. I don't want to know.\"\n\n\"Ok.\"\n\n\"I'm serious J45, not a word.\"\n\nI waved vaguely as I went down the hall, pocketing the pill as I turned the corner. I knocked twice on the door at the end, then entered a small room with two agents. A second door was on the far wall, closed.\n\n\"Morning fellas.\"\n\n\"Morning.\"\n\n\"I need to take this in there.\" I said, pointing at my box.\n\n\"In there?\" they said.\n\n\"Yeah.\"\n\n\"You're sure?\"\n\n\"Yeah, why wouldn't I be?\" The agent shrugged.\n\n\"Nobody every goes in there.\"\n\n\"Why not?\" I said. He fished out two amnesiac pills, handed one to his partner, then looked at me and shrugged.\n\n\"Classified.\" He said. \"What do you need in there?\" \n\n\"Classified.\" I said. He nodded, and let me through. To my surprise I found myself in what looked like a living room from the 1950s.\n\n\"Hello?\" I called, setting the box down on the coffee table. \"Hello?\" \n\nSomething rustled at the far end of the room, in a shadow. I flicked a lamp on and a shape flew out, landing on my chest and pinning me down.\n\n\"I WON'T LISTEN TO YOU! YOU CAN'T MAKE ME!\"\n\nI forced them off, pulling my gun and training it on a thin, haggard man. He wore loose trousers and a loose grey shirt, and had his hands firmly clamped over his ears.\n\n\"Stand down.\" I ordered. \"Identify yourself.\"\n\n\"I WON'T LISTEN I-\"\n\n\"Calm down buddy, I'm not here to hurt you. Who are you?\" The man stopped screaming when he realised nothing was happening, and slowly opened one eye.\n\n\"You're not... You're not it...\"\n\n\"Can you remember your name?\" The man shook his head.\n\n\"They took my name, I got a number.\"\n\n\"So you're with the Org too? What's your ID?\" I said, lowering my gun so it was pointed at his gut, rather than chest.\n\n\"J44... I wasn't supposed to ask questions, I never meant to do anything! It just...\"\n\n\"Calm down buddy.\"\n\n\"Calm!? I can't be calm!\"\n\n\"Come one, how about we get you some sedatives and take you up to psych?\"\n\n\"YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND!\" He leapt to his feet and grabbed the lapels of my jacket. \n\n\"You're right, I don't.\" I said, gently removing his hands and sitting him down. \"Why don't you fill me in?\"\n\n\"It's too late for that. I know its name.\" he broke down into tears. \"I know it's name. It can....\"\n\n\"What can what?\" I said.\n\n\"I CAN'T...\"\n\n\"Ok,\" I said. \"Ok, calm down. I'm gonna get help, OK?\" I moved toward the door, opening it and leaning out. \"Hey, guys? Lil' help in here?\" I called. When the other agents didn't enter I sighed. \"Ok, look, I think it's best we get you taken to psych ASAP, you think you're up for that J44?\" He didn't answer, I turned back to the living room. \"44?\" I said.\n\nBut there was no one there. No sign of Agent J44, except a pool of fresh blood, quickly sinking into the carpet.\n\n---\n\nPlease, feedback if you have any. This really isn't my genre or style at all, so I'd appreciate some pointers. If you'd like to read something I have some confidence in then head on over to /r/Xais56!", "FADE IN:\n\nINT. A SECRET FACILITY\n\nTwo SECURITY GUARDS escort a young man – DOCTOR JACOBS – through the pristine corridors of a laboratory. He glances through thick windows as they pass, watching as people in biohazard suits examine various things in beakers and beneath microscopes.\n\nJACOBS: What do you do here, exactly? \nGUARD #1: Ah, well, it depends. \nJACOBS: On what? \nGUARD #1: The time. \nJACOBS: ... The time?\n\nThe second security guard nods.\n\nGUARD #2: Yep. It's all about the schedule. First, we check in. Then, we get our briefings. \nJACOBS: Oh, sorry, I meant what do... \nGUARD #1: (Interrupting) Then we patrol.\n\nJacobs sighs quietly, apparently frustrated. He appears ready to ask another question, but is stopped as the three men arrive at a closed door. A placard on it reads \"DR. L. SINGH.\"\n\nGUARD #2: Right, this is it.\n\nThe guards immediately depart. Jacobs watches them go, then opens the door.\n\nCUT TO:\n\nINT. A SECRET FACILITY - SINGH'S OFFICE\n\nA dark-skinned man in his sixties sits behind a large desk. This is DOCTOR SINGH. He watches as Jacobs hesitantly enters.\n\nJACOBS: Hi, uh... am I in the right place? \nSINGH: I'm afraid I can't tell you that. \nJACOBS: ... What? \nSINGH: Take a seat.\n\nSingh gestures to a chair in front of the desk. Jacobs eyes it for a brief moment, then sits down.\n\nJACOBS: Sorry, I'm a bit confused. \nSINGH: Good, good. Yes, that will come in handy. \nJACOBS: It's just that I got this phone call, and then... \nSINGH: (Interrupting) Oh, no, please, don't tell me. The less I know, the better. \nJACOBS: ... Okay.\n\nSeveral seconds pass in silence.\n\nJACOBS: (CONT'D) No, really, what's going on? \nSINGH: I'm afraid I can't tell you that, either. It's a safety issue. \nJACOBS: I don't understand. \nSINGH: Excellent! Yes, splendid! Good, you'll fit in wonderfully here.\n\nJacobs begins to look irritated.\n\nJACOBS: Are you saying that you brought me here for the sole reason that I have no idea what's going on? \nSINGH: I'm afraid I... \nJACOBS: (Interrupting) Can't tell me that. Right. \nSINGH: I was going to say \"confirm that,\" but it amounts to the same thing. Would you like to see? \nJACOBS: See what?\n\nRather than answering, Singh opens a drawer in his desk, removes a file, and hands it across to Jacobs. The younger man opens the file and looks through the handful of papers it contains.\n\nSINGH: Don't say it. \nJACOBS: Don't say what? \nSINGH: Anything. \nJACOBS: These have all been pixelated. I don't even know what I'm looking at. \nSINGH: Perfect! Try to keep it that way as you research. \nJACOBS: Resea... no, what? Isn't the very point of research to learn more about something? \nSINGH: Ah, normally, yes, normally. In this case, though, we would very much prefer that you avoided learning anything at all about... while you research. \nJACOB: About what?\n\nSingh stares straight ahead, as though the silence itself is his answer.\n\nJACOB: Is this a joke? \nSINGH: This is perhaps the most serious endeavor of your life, Doctor Jacobs. Speaking of which, we'll need to have you sign several non-disclosure agreements, and you'll need to submit to weekly security checks. \nJACOB: (Sarcastically) Heaven forbid the outside world learn about the thing I don't know about.\n\nA look of intense fear flashes across Doctor Singh's face.\n\nSINGH: Please be careful how you speak. \nJACOB: Why? What did I say? \nSINGH: You referred to... by a specific phrase. \nJACOB: ... \"The thing I don't know about?\" \n\nSingh coughs and waves his hands frantically.\n\nSINGH: Stop, stop, stop! Honestly, Doctor Jacobs, we were led to believe that you were more cautious than this! \nJACOBS: (Frustrated) Well, I'm sorry! Clearly, I don't know how I'm supposed to talk about it...\n\nSingh yelps.\n\nJACOBS: (CONT'D) ... if you won't tell me what it is! \nSINGH: Stop using pronouns! \nJACOBS: Then give me a noun! \nSINGH: I'll give you a verb in a moment, Doctor! Use your head! \nJACOBS: No, no, look, I'm sorry, but this is utterly absurd! You called me away from a very interesting project, only to tell me that I should avoid learning about... \nSINGH: (Interjecting) Don't say it! \nJACOBS: ... avoid learning anything while I conduct research, the whole point of which is, I reiterate, to learn! This is either the most elaborate practical joke I've ever experienced, or you're quite insane! \nSINGH: If only that were the case. We tried that, you know. \nJACOBS: What? \nSINGH: Insane people. Unfortunately, it appears that imaginings and hallucinations have the same effect. Speaking of which, please don't get drunk on the premises. \nJACOBS: (Sarcastically) What, does alcohol turn to tapioca here or something? \nSINGH: No, it's just against policy.\n\nAnother moment of silence passes.\n\nJACOBS: Assuming this isn't a joke... does learning about... erm, does learning create danger? \nSINGH: I'm afraid I can't confirm that. \nJACOBS: ... Meaning that you need someone to conduct research without learning. \nSINGH: Please stop speculating. \nJACOBS: Look, what do you want me to do? I mean, physically do? \nSINGH: We expect you to use your judgment in that regard.\n\nJacobs sighs.\n\nJACOBS: Fine. Give me those damned papers.\n\nSingh smiles.\n\nSINGH: Excellent. Splendid! Welcome to the SCP Foundation, Doctor Jacobs.\n\nFADE TO BLACK." ]	9
	[WP] The real reason why alien's are afraid of humanity is because of our super power. Imagination.	[ "Simpgu, a stoic, thin alien wearing loose, shiny clothing looked at the blue, marble planet through a large view screen. With ryhthmic clacking, he asked his second in command, Kyunk why the earthlings are always at war with themselves. \n\n\"Because they are exercising their imaginations.\" Kyunk answered. \"They invent conflict so that they will be motivated to invent a solution. It's a cycle they know not how to break.\"\n\nSimpgu paced back and forth trying to understand how an entire species would rather make progress through conflict than harmony. \n\n\"How long have they behaved this way?\" Simpgu asked.\n\n\"For many thousands of their planetary cycles.\" Kyunk replied. \"Their cycle is half as long as our own.\"\n\n\"They're just babies.\" Simpgu exhaled. \"But they have made incredible technological advances, considering their age.\"\n\n\"They are thriving.\" Kyunk agreed. \"But they are dangerous.\"\n\n\"Yes they are.\" Simpgu agreed. \"Their collective time and energy will be spent imagining how to conquer us.\"\n\n\"We mustn't come here again, not until they've matured.\" " ]	1
Thought about this when wondering how much everything is preserved these days, from every tweet every written to the simplest recipes. In the past, these would disappear forever, but now they'll be around forever unless someone intervenes and keeps the natural progression of time alive	[WP] The past is meant to slowly fade into oblivion, but in the age of preservation, the cosmic entity in charge of this vital part of life has to work harder than ever.	[ "My job used to be so simple. Go down there, break a few stone tablets, bury some bones. Leave humanity alone for a few centuries, and it's like it never happened. Remember that time George Washington conquered Hawaii? Exactly. I got a commendation for that. But it hasn't been easy these past few millennia. Humans used to do my job for me. Sack a city? Burn the books, burn the records. No one really cared. Nowadays, though, humans are obsessed with preserving everything from Grandma's pie recipe to videos of their dogs sneezing. The internet stores everything they know, and it's always accessible: on their phones, on their computers, everywhere. It's a major problem for me, but I had a brilliant idea. Make the past inaccessible, and even better, use the internet to do it. I assigned the job to my most capable intern, who had already earned commendations for \"Pokemon Go\" and \"Club Penguin.\" My plan centered around two words: Net Neutrality. If humans have to pay 50 dollars just to access some old records about the dinosaurs and such, the past will eventually just fade away, lost in commercialism and the message \"Sorry, this is not included in your service package.\" When I first sent him down to Earth, my intern asked me, \"What's a good human name?\" I thought for a bit. \"Ajit Pai.\"" ]	1
	[WP] You live two lives. Literally. When you go to sleep as one, you wake as the other. One is rich, famous, and beloved by all. One doesn't have a penny to his name and scrounges through dumpsters to survive. Whenever you wake as one, the other's memories are there, but vague, hazy, and dreamlike.	[ "I look at the small vial sitting on the edge of the room. It tempted me in a way, despite its appearance. It was just a small vial of clear liquid, but it meant so much more to me. A way of escape, a way of relief, a way of getting away from all of this boring trivial stuff. When the man approached me with the vial, he promised me it would bring me what I wanted. I would switch places with another, like the prince and the pauper, a book I read in my library now that I remember. \n\nHe said it would only last as long as the vial still had to liquid, and he was right. I can feel the effects fading now, but I don't care. I am going to have to choose one or the other soon enough. Should I not take the last drip and switch again, or should I stay here, with my freedoms? \n\nThe freedom bound by money or the freedom bound by society. In one I can do anything, if I want no adventure. In the other I can try anything, and see where it gets me. \n\nI pick up the glass and look at it one last time before I make my decision. ", "Snow piled on top of my hood as I squatted against the wall of a shoe store. It was only a while ago that the snow was simmering from the radiance of the sun in a cloudless sky and now I was being blanketed in snow faster than I could shake it off. Across the narrow street in front of me was the tallest building in the city. Geant Hotel. The sign illuminated with vivid green and red colors sat at the roof of the building. In the curtain of snow and wind, it gave off a hazy glow. \nMy stomach rumbled. I couldn’t remember the last time I had a proper meal. I had my hands in my armpits, trying my best to keep them warm. Christmas trees and lights lined up the street and many of the restaurants and stores were having a wealth of customers, especially during this evening.\n\n“Good evening Sir Daniel” said the doorman as a tall man in a suit and a long scarf around his neck stepped outside of the hotel. He gestured at a man who followed closely behind him and the attendant began opening up an umbrella. Two men wearing long coats with gold embroidery and top hats were shovelling snow in front of the hotel. They also greeted the tall man. Sir Daniel and his attendant crossed the quiet street and entered the cafe that was next to the shoe store. \nI stood up and began patting myself clean of the snow. I put my numb hands together and rubbed furiously. The chime of the bell echoed into the still air as the door of the cafe swung open several paces away from me. The tall man stepped out but with a lady at his side and one arm around her shoulders. Despite the cold, she wore her coat unzipped and it revealed a thin dress that exposed her collarbone and a peek of her cleavage. \n\nTwo little kids appeared and they were balling their eyes out. The lady immediately began soothing them and asking the kids what was wrong. She only got more tears and more babbling. Sir Daniel had his palm to his head and was tapping his foot impatiently. When the lady bent down and began wiping at the tears of the kids with some tissue I made my move. I sprinted as quietly as I could and slowed to long strides as I approached the man from behind. I swiped my hand in the long coat pocket of Sir Daniel and came away with his wallet. He didn’t even notice. I turned to walk away briskly but the lady’s purse caught my eye. She had it dangling at her shoulder and it was wide open. As if the children had seen, they began crying louder, attracting more attention. I could have walked away then and the little kids and I would have scored big tonight but I dipped my hand into her purse. \n\n“Hey!” an angry voice muffled behind the glass door of the cafe caught the attention of the couple. The attendant had coffees in his hand as he pointed with his glare. \n\nSir Daniel turned and we made eye contact. Before I could even move he backhanded me hard in the face. Dazed I stumbled backwards and nearly fell when a hand caught me by the collar of my shirt. I looked up in time to see Sir Daniel’s face. He was saying something when he raised his hand. This time I saw the expensive-looking rings that decorated his fingers before he hit me. \nFuck \n\n\n\n~\n“Sir… Sir wake up,” a woman's voice beckoned me softly. “We have landed sir, wake up please.”\n\nI opened an eye squinting at her curiously. She looked at me in dismay and said, “Did you forget who I am again? I’m Mary your secretary. You hired me last week.” \n\n“Yes, of course Mary, give me a moment to gather myself,” I said and gestured for her to leave. It took me several moments to remember. To remember who I was exactly. It was always like this when I slept, especially when the dreams were more lucid. When I wake from these dreams I would remember certain things vividly, as if they were my own memories. But the memories were extremely difficult to retain. \n\nI was in the private quarters of my private jet and I stood up and looked at myself in the mirror. I was only in my late 20s but I was already a business magnate, author, philanthropist and a mayoral candidate. I reached for my glasses on a table and put them on to see myself more clearly. Suddenly pain and vertigo struck and I crumpled onto my knees and vomited. I touched the side of my face and my hand came away with blood. I looked at the mirror and saw the face of a teenager with bony cheeks, dark hair and sharp eyes and then darkness followed.\n\n~\nI opened my eyes but only one of them would open. I was lying in the snow on my side and my vision was blurry and red. Blood was running down from one side of my face into the eye I could open as I lay there looking at the world sideways. I saw the kids staring in horror and shock.\n\n“Run!” I shouted at them. \n\nIt took them a second to register what I said and even more seconds as they hesitated. They didn’t want to leave me behind. \n\n“Dirty, fucking scum,” said an angry voice looming over me. At the sound of his voice the kids ran. He was rummaging through my satchel and paused to kick me in the ribs. Something cracked and my breath escaped me. As I tried to breathe more blood clogged my throat. I started coughing and heaving. I cracked an eye open and looked at the man. He responded by kicking me again in the same place and sharp pain flooded my mind. “Carol check you purse,” said Sir Daniel. \n\n“Sir Daniel,” the lady whimpered, “I think I have everything here.”\n\nSir Daniel dropped my satchel near my feet and stepped closer. He reached for my neck. Someone shouted and he stopped. A girl in a white coat and skirt appeared. \n\n“You’ve hurt him enough. Anymore and I’ll have to call the cops,” said the girl with a voice too soft to sound angry. But she tried. I looked up and she had a phone to her ear.\n\n“there’s no need to call the cops, you’ll only be wasting the city’s resource on criminal scum” Daniel said. \n\n“Daniel, we should go,” said the lady in the revealing outfit. \n\n“Yes Carol, let’s go,” he replied smoothly. \n\nThey left and after a few moments I let out a sigh but only more coughing came out. \n\n“Are you okay?” the girl asked me as she got on her knees next to me and inadvertently flashed me in the process of doing so. I turned myself over so that I was facing the sky instead of her skirt and laughed but ended up choking more. \n\n““How do I look?” I asked, but it came out hoarse and breathy. I was getting more tired and drowsy by the second. \n\nWith one eye, the only working eye, I looked at her. She had long brown hair that rested on her narrow shoulders and chest. With round, chestnut colored eyes she looked at me with concern. \n\n“You have a pretty deep gash from your temple to your eyelid and its swelling and”-I brought my hand to her face interrupting her. \n\n“I’ll never forget you,” I said and darkness followed. \n\n~\nI opened an eye.\n\n“Sir! You’re awake! Doctor!” a door opened as my secretary rushed out of the room. ”Doctor!” I could still hear my secretary’s muted screaming in the halls outside. \n\nI had an IV drip up my arm and I was surrounded by first class medical equipment and monitors. There was an emergency button on the wall above my head that my secretary clearly missed. The room was filled with luxury decor and a vast view of the city below. I was in the penthouse room of the Geant Hotel. I ripped the IV out and walked to the windows that were taller and wider than me. I brought my hand to my face and touched the eyelid of the eye I still had closed. \n\n“I remember,” I said. \n\n\n\n\n", "Phillip A awoke that morning to a woman on either side of him. He could not remember what he had been doing the previous night, but he remembered it must have been a good time. A bottle of wine was still in a decanter at the bedside, and he could see that their clothes had been gradually lost on the way to the bedroom. A good night, Phillip A thought as he struggled to emerge from the bed without waking either of the women. His watch alarm had buzzed, and he was glad to get out of his dream. He could not remember all the details, but his dream self had last been running from the police. It was much better for him to be out of a dream.\n\nPhillip A started the espresso maker that morning before he went to the front door and retrieved his copy of the New York Times. There he was on the front page of the “Arts” section for his latest bestseller being turned into a movie again. The women in his bed were burgeoning actresses hoping to end up in the next film. Too bad he had never mentioned that he had little responsibility with the creative direction of the movies. He was richer and more successful than anyone would have ever suspected a writer could possibly be. J.K. Rowling was an amateur making chump change in comparison to the novels he wrote that could strike a chord with multiple generations bringing them together under the guise of whatever he imagined. Often times his bestsellers came from his dreams of another man who seemed to live a depraved life that was so heartbreaking that Phillip A almost wondered if he was real. The dream the previous night would likely become a part of his next bestseller that he had started several nights ago as the story developed in his head.\n\nBetween sips of the freshly brewed cappuccino, Phillip A was making notes on the next scene of his novel. He had to always start writing as soon as he awoke or else he would forget everything that had happened. It was a curse that he had realized when he was in the middle of his MFA. As soon as he started writing in the morning, he became instantly more successful. The perfect representation of the American ethos was unlike anything this generation had developed, and that was why he was so successful. Once the ideas were jotted down, he could finally finish the New York Times. There were quite a number of tragedies always happening throughout the world, but none of them would be the fodder for his next bestseller.\n\nBy the afternoon, Phillip A was alone in the penthouse where he was still writing. His agent was acting as his gatekeeper this week after he had told her about the spurt of writing inspiration that he had had recently. His agent was exceptionally receptive of this, largely because he was her cash cow. Only three times did Phillip A leave the penthouse that day. The first time was to go for a short stroll through Central Park. The jaunt was enough to get his creative juices recharged and for him to further develop the next scene that would occur to his protagonist. The second and third were more practical excursions where he had to get food.\n\nBy the time he reached dinner he needed to be out of the penthouse for a longer period of time. His assistant had managed to get him reservations for top NYC restaurants for this week on short notice. This was the advantage of being a bestselling author in the cities. She had even found him people to spend the evenings with. This evening he was dining with a prominent associate social editor of Vanity Fair. The woman was hoping to get a story from Phillip A, but he was not particularly paying attention to the conversation. The author instead was focusing on the next part of his story rather than on the ravishing woman before him.\n\n---\n\nLucky bastard, Phillip Z thought as he awoke that morning in the ditch. He had just managed to escape the police the previous night. The tent city that he and his chums lived in had been ransacked, and now he was going to have to find a new place to sleep that night. It was freezing cold, but he had found a good, warm coat a few weeks ago. It had served as a decent blanket last night. Now he just needed some liquid warmth if he was going to make it through the day.\n\nPhillip Z found his chums at the soup kitchen that morning. All of them were shivering and quite irate that their tent city had been destroyed the previous night. It had been nice and safe for them to all be together as they had for the previous month or so, so the night apart had been rather distressing for people like Tom who had an underlying undiagnosed schizophrenia for which he was barely managing to cope.\n\nAll of them had used up their days at the homeless shelters stupidly in October when a cold spurt had seized the city, so now they were all in the same boat trying to just survive through the winter there in their favorite city. John and Mike had both racked up enough indecent exposure offenses that they were sitting in the warm jail for the next month or so, making them the fortunate ones. Phillip Z could not get himself taken to prison though because he would go through severe alcohol and heroin withdrawals if he spent any time there. A month ago, a car had hit him and he had ended up at a local hospital where he had started seeing bugs on the wall because he had not had a drink in a few days. The jitteriness from the lack of heroin too had been quite distressing, which was why he now refused to go to a hospital or the police station no matter what happened.\n\n“Have you heard anything from Big Don?” Jake asked Phillip Z who shook his head. The dealer had been experimenting with a new product on the chums, but he had been incognito over the past 10 days, distressing for the men who needed to have about six dealers in their rotation so they could see someone every day but Sunday. There was something sacred about abstaining for Sunday that all the men had agreed upon when they had become chums.\n\n“I might have a new hookup,” Tom commented flatly.\n\n“Okay. I’ll look into him,” Phillip Z agreed. He was the closest the group of chums had to a leader. “Peter, you’ll be backup for me, right?” The barely 18-year-old man nodded in a haze. “Jake, you make sure that Lucky Louis will wait for us if it takes some time.”\n\nThe rest of the day was spent panhandling by some while the rest was on various different assignments. Phillip Z took Peter and Tom to go find Tom’s new contact to evaluate if this person could be a trusted source of drugs. Pretty much they needed someone with an ample stock and far from the police. Aside from that, they were just hoping not to get killed, which the group of chums had successfully steered themselves away from over the years.\n\n“I hear you need a group of testers,” Phillip Z said to Tight-Lipped Tony. “We are a group of fifteen homeless addicts that would be a perfect group. We need a hookup, and you need people. Let’s make this work.”\n\nTight-Lipped Tony smiled revealing a gold canine tooth. “We don’t need fifteen of you guinea pigs. Maybe only three.”\n\n“Then your customers won’t know if they’re getting something pure. We know what pure looks and feels like. Your customers will appreciate knowing they have something pure, obviously,” Phillip Z remarked. This was his usual sales pitch that typically worked.\n\n“We can’t waste that much product,” Tight-Lipped Tony noted.\n\n“Then you’re not the right dealer for us.” With that, Phillip Z stood up. “Mind you, we could have one of our group turn you in for selling drugs.”\n\n“I could turn you and your lot in for soliciting and using drugs,” Tight-Lipped Tony returned.\n\nPhillip Z turned around to look Tight-Lipped Tony straight in the face. “There are too many of us to turn over without screwing over your business. We would flood the streets with knowledge that you turn in your users.” He paused before continuing, “Just give us your tester phase, and we can make this a good business arrangement for each other. We can get you more users than you can ever imagine and increase your profits substantially.”\n\nAt this point, the dealer smirked, shaking his head. He could not believe this user was trying to put him through the ringer. He put out his hand for the junkie, and Phillip Z shook hands with the drug dealer. This was precisely what the band of chums needed in order to get their appropriate fixes. The only thing that they needed even more was a place for them all to sleep that night. Hopefully the rest of the crew had been working on that more diligently. That was hard to tell though given they had so much work to do to stay alive, especially now that it was winter.\n\nThat evening Phillip Z and the crew was at Lucky Louis’s den. It was a small apartment in a rundown apartment building scheduled for demolition next week. The demolition crew would have to be careful of the hundreds of needles on the floor and in the couches though. This test was a bit of a celebration for the pack of chums that had indeed found a place to start their tent city once again. Today was a good day. The panhandling had gone so well that the crew had been able to afford two fifths of vodka that had been split among everyone to just keep the shakes from happening. Tom had gotten a little extra since he needed a little more than everyone else. Besides, he had been instrumental in the chums’ success that day. With the needle in his arm, Phillip Z left the life that he was currently living and imagined the life of the lucky bastard on the other side of his consciousness. Maybe I could be like the other Phillip, Phillip Z thought as he drifted, awakening Phillip A.", "\"Yeah, sweetheart, I am coming home soon. The flight is today!\" I talked on my phone while walking roadside. I decided to take a walk to the airport once in a while.\n\nI stopped and looked around; this place seemed really familiar. I looked into the alley and felt like this place was my home. I decided to go in there.\n\n\"Mr Johnson, you shouldn't-\" one of the guards wanted to interfere, but I just raised my hand, and he shut his mouth. I stopped in front of one homeless man sleeping in his cardboard bed.\n\nI knew that man. It was almost like he was me. I lowered my body and shook him. Nothing happened, no reaction, he was still in a deep sleep. I guess I was also afraid to wake him up.\n\n\"Give him like ten thousand dollars and get him a job,\" I just said, turned around and walked away.\n\n\"Sir, are you sure?\" One of the guards asked while being confused.\n\n\"Yes. This person deserves more,\" I sighed. Something just told me to do it.\n\nSoon I got on my private plane which took me to my home country and then I took helicopter straight home. I couldn't sleep or work at all while flying.\n\nAfter saying good nights to my hot wife, I got into bed, turned to a side and sighed. Hopefully, I will fall asleep.\n\n----\n\n\"Aaah!\" I wake up, as some men in black are waking me up.\n\n\"What is it? I didn't do anything bad, I promise!\" I quickly tell them and lean forward.\n\n\"I don't know why, but Mr Johnson ordered us to take care of you. So you better step up.\"\n\nWithout much of thought, I did as they asked.\n\n\"We already got you a bank account what has ten thousand dollars in it. One of our partners also got you a job. There is also apartment waiting for you.\"\n\nI was utterly confused.\n\n\"What? Why? I think you have confused me with-\"\n\n\"We have not. Mr Johnson saw you and decided to be merciful towards you. I don't know why, I honestly don't care why, I just want to get done with it and go home,\" the man in black said.\n\nDuring that day, I got cleaned up, new clothes, visited my new home, new job and suddenly I felt like I had a life. It was someone.\n\nDuring the evening, I was lying first time in my new comfortable bed. I fell to sleep instantly.\n\n----\n\n\"Mr Johnson!\" came sudden shout.\n\n\"Eh, huh?\" I asked as I opened my eyes and got myself to wake up.\n\n\"We are really sorry to wake you up so early. This is an emergency!\"\n\nI stood up, put my best suit on quickly and went to my company meeting room.\n\n\"Mr Johnson, thank God you arrived!\" one of my council members said.\n\n\"What is going on?\" I asked.\n\n\"We are losing a lot of money. Apparently, our deals are suddenly failing, customers aren't happy with your products, your popularity is decreasing, and the stock is falling like crazy.\n\n\"Why?\" I asked.\n\n\"We don't know!\" another council member responded.\n\nI tried to do everything to stop this and had meetings with partners, nothing changed.\n\nBefore going to sleep again, I was in my bathroom, looking into the mirror, depressed. How did this happen? All I did in the previous days went well, and I was a good person. I was kind. I don't do this just to be rich; I also help people.\n\nAs I am like that, I suddenly remember that homeless from an alley. It almost felt like I experienced my happiness of getting away from there last night.\n\nI took my phone, chose a number and then called it.\n\n\"That homeless from an alley. Remove every penny he has and send him back to streets,\" I closed my phone and went to sleep.\n\nNext day, I woke up to a phone ringing.\n\n\"Yes?\" I responded as I answered it. I smiled.\n\nWhen I entered the meeting room, people were clapping.\n\n\"I don't know what you did Johnson, but we are back into profit. Out stocks are increasing like crazy. You are amazing, sir!\"\n\nI felt bad. It sucked. But it was the sacrifice I was willing to make.\n\n----\n\n/r/ElvenWrites" ]	4
	[WP] Following an experimental medical procedure, you discover you gained superpowers as a side effect. However, given the embarrassing nature of your surgery, you have some reservations about your newfound ability.	[ "Hi, \nThis is my story how i change my life. \nI was a student at American Scientist University when i applied for a new experimental medical program which was leaded by a group of the greatest NASA scientists experimenting with the change of the eyes color. So i was chosen and well my life change in a way that i never could imagine.\nAfter the operation of changing my eyes color from brown to blue i woke up in a small hospital room and the first thing i see was a nurse sitting in the chair in front of me . The strange thing happen when i realized that i could see through her . I stared at her for a few minutes when she suddenly spoke : “You see me .” \nIt wasn’t a question and that surprise me a lot : “What?What are you?” \n“I’m dead.” - she said and came to me - “You can see ghosts.”\n“But how?”- i wasn’t afraid of her but i was a little confused.\n“I think is from yours eyes color change.There are gray just like me.They're dead too.” \nIn this moment i freak out and started to scream . I heard voices telling me to calm down but i couldn’t see who is there everything turn black , the room was gone the dead nurse too. Then somebody spoke to me with a calm voice trying to help me : \n“Miss R. you have to relax the stress is bad for you. ” \n“What happened ? Why everything is black?”- i cried as i spoke .\n“The surgery wasn’t successful.I’m so sorry.”\nThen the nurse ghost show up again and i could see how one man and two alive nurse are around my bed . Then i understand what had happened i was blind but i have superpower to see ghost and with there help i could see around me . When i said to the NASA scientists what they do to me they take me in there team and help me to understand my abilities better . At first it was hard and painful because every time i see ghost the change from dark to light was terrible.\nIt took me a lot of years to understand how this change my life for good but now i couldn’t tell that i see the world less than an ordinary human being .No matter what i achieved my dream to become scientist and even more by exploring the world of the dead with the help of my abilities.Now every human being know what is it to be dead and it is not a fairytale. \n", "“Can you believe he has the most beautiful woman as his wife?” “He has used nepotism to get him everywhere in life.” “He’s got no talents.” “He’s an absolute pig. He joked about sexually assaulting a woman.” “He’s a predator. You’ve seen the way he looks at other women.” These hurtful comments surrounded me at all hours after the surgery. The voices were in every direction, blurring the lines between what was before me and what was more distant.\n\nI suspect these comments were all around me before the surgery, but after the procedure it was as if they had been amplified. Anything someone spoke within 1000 feet was as if the person was right beside me. On top of that, I had gained the ability to hear people’s thoughts. This was a quite useful gift for blackmailing everyone around me, but it had had some unintended consequences.\n\nFirst of all, I heard people at all hours, and I heard quite a number of hurtful things that made me wish that I had not heard them. Some nights I would find a quiet spot alone where I could cry, especially after my wife said hurtful things. Second, because of the loud nature of these voices, I was shouting at all times to be louder than the voices. Finally, I did not believe what many of the voices were saying about me and felt they were just escalating my own words. Accordingly, I was performing reality tests by making more and more unrealistic claims. This led to the ridiculousness that I could only call “fake news”. These claims were not anything that I was proud of. I called people names I shouldn’t have, I spoke lies that I knew were lies, and I just kept hearing these lies parroted back at me.\n\nI didn’t realize how much this would escalate until one morning I saw my reflection in the mirror and could barely recognize myself. “Mr. President, is everything all right?” My assistant asked as I combed the orange tuff of hair on my head. I doubted that everything was indeed all right, but at least the hair transplant had worked wonders." ]	2
	[WP] A rhyming childrens story about a bear who hates hibernation.	[ "The first snowflakes of winter began to fall to the forest floor \nIt was time to Hibernate, but sleeping was such a bore \n \nBilly the bear was getting tired from all the food he ate \nHe had to stay awake, this winter had to be great! \n\nHe was going to climb trees and eat honey \nMaybe make friends with a bunny \n\nThe snow was cold but Billy didn't care \nHis fur kept him warm, It was great being a bear! \n \nBilly loved the crunch of the snow \nThere wasn't much else to do out here though \n \nAll his bear friends seemed to be staying inside \nAnd when the other animals saw Billy they would run and hide. \n\nMaybe he shouldn't stay awake with no reason \nMaybe bears were supposed to sleep through the season \n\nSo Billy went back to his home to go back to bed \nso he would be well rested to play in the spring instead" ]	1
	[WP] Earth is being invaded by aliens, but underneath the thick armor, the aliens are humans from the earths future	[ "God watched as the once-blue globe he'd spent a quaint couple of days making had become a brown bulbous ball of poison and alien raduation.\n\nThe deity tosses his food onto the nearest patch of ground. \n\n\"Dammit, not again! Metatron! Metatron!\"\n\nBefore the deity appears a blonde humanoid with lightly-feathered wings. \n\n\"Yes, my creator?\"\n\n\"What asshole poofed up an alien invasion for Earth....again? Was it Lucifer? I bet it was Lucifer! He's been gunnin' for me since I showed him up at tennis at the Mythological Gala an epoch ago! Petty little shit!\"\n\n\"According to the divine time-weave, I do believe it was Zeus from the Roman Sector. According to Vishnu, he claimed it was a way to...spicen up your rule.\"\n\n\"Ugh.....Zeus always was a show-off. Alright, let's do the time-warp again.\"\n\nFlexong his roght pointer finger, God grasps the globe in his fingertip and spins it around like a basketball. What once was brown returned to a lush blue.\n\n\"If anyone asks, Poseidon owed me one.\"\n\n\"Noted. Ah, you have a tea-session with YHWH at 45646:30. Shall I mark you down?\"\n\n\"I suppose. Wait...Is Bernadette gonna be there?\"\n\n\"...Unsure.\" \n\n\"Oh, things are gonna be awkward this era....\" \n\nThe two deities disappear, returning the Earth to it's blissfully ignorant orbit." ]	1
	[WP] You awaken in a large ovular room. On either side of the room was a door, one with a window that revealed pitch black, the other with lights like a nebula. Above you is a hatch with a digital timer counting down from 30 minutes. At your feet is a piece a paper, which reads: "You must choose."	[ "Marguerite was amazed by what she was seeing. A bright white ovular room with 2 windows. One revealed blackness, the other light of nebulas. A clock was timing her. Timing her decision, but she didn’t know that yet. \n\nShe walked in in a circle to view the whole room. After making a full 360 she noticed a small paper on by her feet. It read ‘you must choose’. That’s it. She was scared to choose, though. All she could see from the doors were what they revealed. No people. Nothing but color. This frightened her to the core.\n\nThe room encasing her seemed like she had been here for longer than half an hour. It had a small kitchen with a fridge, a cot, and a bathroom. It was fairly nice, except for the fact she didn’t know where it was or why she was there. Then she had an odd realization. She was wearing an all white dress. And she couldn’t remember anything else. Her memory had been impaled. \n\nNext,she looked at the clock. 9 minutes. Had she contemplated randomness for that long? Very little time left to make a major decision. As major as it could get for her.\n\nTime continued to pass. Still, Marguerite could not decide. She couldn’t without knowing what it meant. So she did something only she would do. She scurried around to find a pen and the paper. She grabbed the paper with the directions of choosing and wrote something under it. ‘Why?’\n\nThe clock beeped. 7 minutes. \n\nMarguerite roamed over to the cot and laid down. It did not take long for her to fall asleep. She wasn’t even tired, but sleeping felt peaceful.\n\nShe was dreaming. Dreaming about this house. Her house. She saw her parents, older brother, and little sister. But she didn’t know who it was. She only saw people. They were just people to her. A family, but not hers. Little did she know how much they missed her.\n\nHer slumber was ended by someone she didn’t know. A man had come in and spoke her sleeping body. She woke up and saw the door was open. It was the door leading to pitch blackness. \n\n“Marguerite! Wake up!” He exclaimed. Still not fully aware, she asked who it was. No answer was given. Just signals that she needed to go with him. \n\nAnd she did. Why? Because she was curious what was outside the doors.\n\nAll that was outside was a world of stars. It was all One world. And she traveled through a Star. The one close to her. Something struck her to touch it, as if all other sights and sounds were meaningless. \n\nIn an instant, she was back home. On her couch. Two police officers were sitting in the seats across from her, interviewing her for something she was unaware of. \n\nMarguerite never forget the room. The surreal feeling of being encased inside of it. But it was all a blur. Never again would she see it. It was all gone. ", "\"Where am I?\" I thought as I stood up from the cold, metal floor.\n\nI was in a large, oval room, with metallic, featureless walls. The room was dimly lit and the air was stale. There was no furniture to be seen, except two doors, on either side of the room, one with a window which revealed pitch black, the other one which revealed strange, multicolored lights.\n\n\"Where am I? How did I get here?\"\n\nI looked up, only to see a digital timer counting down from 30 minutes. At my feet, previously unnoticed, was a piece of paper which read: \"You must choose.\"\n\n\"Hello! Can anybody hear me?\" I shouted.\n\nThe only reply I got was the echo, as the walls reverberated with the sound of my voice.\n\n\"I have to choose one of the doors?\" I mumbled to myself. \"Why?\"\n\nWith small steps, struggling to keep my balance, I walked to the door on my left, the one with the pitch black window. I strained to pierce the darkness with my eyes. Malicious shapes, illusions created by my imagination, were reaching for me from the unknown beyond the door. The darkness gave me an overwhelming feeling of anxiety and a pervasive state of despair, so that I bounded away from the window.\n\nI went to the other door and, to my surprise, I found out that I was in space. Through the window, I could see a majestic nebula, with a dark red centre surrounded by concentric circles of blue and green. \n\nImpulsive thing is the human mind. Before me stood the infinite cosmos, in all its raw, terrible beauty, ready to destroy me in an instant. Behind me were only the visions of my imagination that I knew had no power to harm me. Yet, it seems, the human mind is more frightened by what it does not understand. I was in such a situation in which the deathly grip of outer space was infinitely more preferable than the unknown darkness.\n\nI looked at the timer. The 30 minutes were almost up. I had already made my mind. With one deep breath, and with my eyes fixed upon the nebula, I turned the handle." ]	2
	[WP] In an old cave, you find a game controller. On the back, a scratched out note; "Control the victim to your every whim"	[ "Outside it was cold, but the cave emits a heat, a warmth that feels ancient and unworldly. Something just seems different here, a little off. I survey my surroundings and my eyes rest on a small ledge hewn out of the stone. Nestled gently lies what seems to be a game controller. How intriguing. Overcome with curiosity I walk over to it. It's frustrating. I'm trying to get there, my legs are moving, but I haven't gained an inch. Then I look down and laugh at my stupidity. Of course. There's a rock at my feet and I've been walking straight into it. I go around it and jump to reach the ledge. It's not easy, and it feels as though a little energy has been sapped from my body. I pick up the console, and notice a small piece of paper stuck on the back. \"Control the victim to your every whim,\" I murmur, scanning to see if I've been left further instructions. I have not. Wait. How did I fail to notice it before? There's a screen in front of me, and it has just flickered to life. Gripping the console my eyes widen as a figure appears on the screen. A shadow at first, and then it grows stronger. Now it's quite clearly a man. He seems lost and confused. \"Hello?\" He calls out, his voice echoing and bouncing around the walls of the cave. A little eery, I'll admit. Biting my lip in concentration, I press the button. Nothing. Again. This time I'm thinking, \"dance for me pretty boy.\" He gasps in pain and performs an adequate moonwalk. What is this thing? But I'll never find out. The concept has begun to bore the executives. \"Johnno, turn that shit off. Creative is good, but this ain't gonna fly.\" My eyes widen in fear. I'm AI? But I can think! I'm living, I'm breathing! \"Guys?\" I whisper. \"GUYS?!\" No response. I'm getting frantic now. I try to run but it's as if I've been paused. Wait, have I been paused? \"It was only a concept,\" my creator says, a little dejected. \"I'll come up with something better, I promise.\" Darkness. ", "October 21st, 2008.\nThat day changed my life. \nFor better or for worse, I cannot really tell.\nI remember it distinctively, as a third grader on a field trip to the caves not from far from school.\nAmogst the layers of stactalites and stagmalites, an all-too familiar glare of a GameCube controller caught my eye. As a secretly snuck it into my daypack, I had no idea what power it held within.\nAt home, I went straight to the TV. With the Wii turned on, I went straight to SSB Brawl. What else would I play anyway? As I connected it too the Wii, I noticed a paper with some writing. It was faint but the words were unmistakably clear: \"Control the victim to your every whim\"\nWhatever.\nI just wanted to Smash.\nI heard my mother pull up in the garage. \"Ark! Did you do your homework yet?\" \n\"Shut up...\" I muttered under my breath.\nSilence. No sound from my mom.\nIt was at that moment I grasped the true power of what I had in my hand.\nIt was fun at first. Toys and games, pizza and chocolate. But it got boring. I had whatever I wanted but I had to control what was in my hand too, financially and in popularity. I had to remain low-key while having my pleasures at the same time. Soon my Dad was VP at Oracle, with Teslas in the garage. Last year I made my remote portable. It's full power is restored whenever it's connected to a console. With some EE classes at the community college, I made mine comparable with the PS4s and the XBoxes, not to mention PC. With a single Bluetooth connection, I had my way. \nAs a rising senior I had 4.0s, out-of-this world ECs, and perfect scores, on my way to Stanford.\nAt least I thought. It all stopped when the new game came out.\nStar Wars: Battlefront 2\nMy most anticipated game. As I plugged my 'universal' remote in, it worked as it should, and I thought everything was alright. As I progressed to try to unlocked the characters, I realized the amount of time and money it would require.\nWith my remote in hand, I tried to brute force it into my account, not realizing what had already occured: the only weakness to my remote had been activated.\nMicro-transactions.\n \n" ]	2
	[WP] Rome never fell as it did in our timeline, but became even stronger, and it now approaches what we would know as the year 2018.	[ "“As Senior Consul, I call this session into order!” The bright room had filled, and it was time to begin. Those sitting on either side bank of the senate had been itching to debate. Flavian then lowers his right hand, his ceremonial white robes shifting, as the soft speaking from across the room died out. The purple and red chair in the centre rear of the stage was ominously empty today. \n“We will hear cases from both sides, presented by representatives from either faction. For the Pro-Division faction, we will have Brutus Scipius Crassus take the floor. For the Anti-Divisional faction, we will have Gaius Julius Grachi. Gaius, you make speak first” Flavian announces, before stepping back, and sitting in his own seat close to the senate floor. Whilst he had not settled yet, he was actually leaning one of the smaller factions. \n\nGaius, to a series of cheers, makes his way down towards the glorified dais that now stood empty, and stands in the centre, turning towards the ancient room before him, filled with men and women of a similarly venerable nature. \n“Brothers and sisters- romans all! Not since 1420, and the enlightenment has our nation been so threatened! In many times during our history, civil wars and liberal ideas have threatened to tear our nation in two! In 284, Diocletian divided our nation, and both halves suffered until Justinian reunited us once more. When Western Rome was on the brink of collapse, Constantinople marched to our defence, and the reunited Rome prevailed, to last another 2000 years, to where we are today! \nOur united Rome survived the fires of liberalism after the industrial revolution in the late 1300s, our united Rome crushed the Mongols, and prevented the spread of their Black Death.” \n\nHe paused, to gauge the reaction of the audience. Of course, there hadn’t been a civil war since the 1500s, after how bloody, and destructive those wars had been. Today, technology far outpaced the Great Civil War, with Interium bombs, and the like. Flavian also knew that in truth, while Rome was certainly the strongest super power, The Pan-Asian Cooperative formed a dangerous foe. Gaius had also left out that important detail- the Seres War has resulted in more than twice those who died in that final civil war. And since then, tensions in the east had climbed dramatically since the failed assimilation of India, and the loss of the more Japanese western half of Terra Mondus. \n\n“I myself hail from New Mediolanum, in Terra Mondus to the west- you all know this, friends. Remember, without this unity, we are nothing.” He finishes, to a roaring applause from half of those before him. \n\n(Will do more soon, just wanted to get this down)", "Basil IV looked out from his thirtieth storey balcony of the Imperial complex on the Bosphorus; the evening twilight illuminating the Sea of Marmara. When morning came, the sun would illuminate the Black Sea too. The last light illuminated his wrinkling face.\n\nOur Sea. Our Seas.\n\nBasil IV thought back to his predecessors from ten centuries before. Starting with the barracks emperors, Nicephoros II and his murderer John Tzimiskes. Moving onto the legitimate heirs of the Macedonian Dynasty, Basil II, my namesake... And his adopted son, Romanos III, and then his adopted son, Heraclius II, and so on.\n\nI know them all. My tutors at the Academia made us learn the lessons of the past - it's how we've thrived. The First Pax Romana was a result of the stable transitions of leadership from one competent ruler to the next. So it is the same.\n\nHe heard a voice from within. Basil IV turned away from the outside world, from the Constantinopolitan metropolis below him. \n\n\"I'm attending to my final duties, Irene. Won't you let me do that?\"\n\nIrene spoke deferently, \"You'll have enough time for that soon, God willing.\"\n\nBasil walked her over to the vividly detailed digital map in the centre of the room. \n\nA purple colour shaded from the northermost reaches of Britannia, down to the deserts of Africa, across the Arabian peninsula to where the two rivers meet the sea, northwards across mountainous Armenia and through the Caucasus and back Westwards to the Baltic.\n\n\"You will soon be the law, yet abide by the exisiting laws. Tomorrow, my abdication ceremony will end in the Hagia Sophia, as they all have before mine.\"\n\nWith a hand gesture towards the map, he intoned, \"Preserve us, Irene.\"", "\"Octavian. . .\"\n\nAugustus, the greatest grandson of the original Octavian Augustus, stepped off his hoverboard and lifted his wooden sword at his mother. He had been playing with the other boys, wielding a sword and shield and riding a hoverboard as if it were his steed.\n\n\"Mother, you are interrupting my evening with your requests for my attention, may I ask why you seek not to remember your place?\" Augustus replied.\n\nAugustus held his wooden sword still, pointing its point directly at his mother's throat. His eyebrows furrowed inward and his gaze appeared as if it could pierce a corridor through his mother's skin.\n\n\"Now now, you're not the emperor of the Western World just yet,\" his mother replied. \n\n\"Soon, I will be the emperor of all the world!\"\n\n\"You would be breaking the treaty of Divisio Orbis,\" his mother replied, \"You know we cannot break through the Parthian defenses. You would be breaking the treaty and you would leave the Eastern border of Rome to be devoured by Dimitrius II's greatest grandson. \n Do you want the Roman legacy to be scathed all because of your prepubescent aspirations to conquer what others have tried and have failed.\"\n\nAugustus took his sword and struck it against the wood of his wooden shield. He then mounted his hoverboard and began to ride solemnly in a circle around his mother, stalking her, examining her and questioning her insolence and misstep in treating him like a mere child.\n\n\"I will do away with old treaties,\" young Augustus said, \"I will do away with Divisio Orbis! I will be greater than Caesar himself! I will be the one to fully emulate the Great Alexander.\"\n\n\"It's 2018. That was millenia ago,\" Augustus's mother said, crossing her arms, seemingly unimpressed by her son's delusions of grandeur. \"Now now, you get to your studies. Civics and oratory aren't going to learn themselves.\"\n\nStill riding in circles on his hoverboard, Augustus came to a halt.\n\n\"Civics and oratory are for philosophers and those wanting peace,\" Augustus replied. \"I want only to conquer. I will study battle formations and robotics. I will lead the greatest army of AI this world has every laid eyes on. My drones will be faster and more stronger than any other drones in existence. I want all nations to kneel to Rome! Rome will be their kingdom! And I will be their emperor!\"\n\nAugustus's mother rolled her eyes.\n\n\"You're sounding less like your greatest grandfather Octavian and more like Commodus. . .\" ", "######[](#dropcap)\n\nCharles Amalric Messier was hardly able to pay attention as the class devolved into the monotony of detailing what was to be expected from everyone by Professor Leepgott. The current assignment, to choose an ancient city from Leepgott's list and research the last two hundred years of its history, had left many students utterly devoid of enthusiasm. \n \nCharles had no need to take this class for his degree, but in all the spare time he'd spent researching such wild theories as the multiverse and alternate timelines, he had found Leepgott mentioned dozens upon dozens of times.\n\nThe professor was, if not intentionally, the leading researcher on alternate timelines since the man who'd discovered the Dead Sea Scrolls a few decades ago. Leepgott did not go out of his way to find the information he casually presented in his classes, but he was so well versed in the contrast between what his shadow followers called 'the now' and 'the almost' that he could carry on a detailed conversation about it as casually as someone might the most recent pankration tournament. \n\nAs other students asked about specifics for the paper, Charles drew the moon with a flag atop it. This time, however, the flag he drew was not that of Rome but of this strange country that might have existed across the sea: America. He shaded in some of the horizontal stripes of this flag with pencil and left every other empty. The page he'd read on altepedia had only one picture of the flag, with a single quadrant on the top left colored blue around white stars and red and white horizontal stripes alternating down the rest of the flag. However, it was a torn picture from what the page had indicated was the last remaining flag after \"the Final War.\" \n\nIt was the strangest thing, but the pages regarding the nation had become increasingly incoherent as their timeline continued past 1769.\n\n'2016.' Charles wrote the numbers at the top of his drawing, then a short line and arrow pointing to 2018. Between the arrow and the number he simply put, '?' to sum up exactly what he thought of the whole thing.\n\nHe had enrolled in Professor Leepgott's course as a freshman two years ago. Since then, he had continued to enroll in Leepgott's more advanced courses and pick the man's brain about the strange entries on the internet. Charles was killing time every class period while the others, majoring in some nonsense that would likely make no difference in the world, actually struggled to get through Ancient Western History. He simply wanted to stay after and ask about the most recent pages uncovered from this alternate encyclopedia. \n\nHe erased a ragged edge down the flag and redrew it to be a torn and tattered flag. Then he placed 1769 above 2016 and 1771 above 2018, and began to draw the remnants of a space craft to one side of the moon. \n\nHis mind was busy with possibilities as he drew, thinking of what might have caused 'the almost' to devolve the way it seemed to. \n\nA pleasant alarm sounded from Professor Leepgott's reading tablet, interrupting him mid-sentence. \n\n\"Ladies and gentlemen, please remember your papers will be due by the end of the month!\" Leepgott did not so much raise his voice as strengthen his words as the students shuffled and crammed their belongings together, eager to leave for their next classes. \"I will happily help anyone whom stays after class with questions. My office hours are also posted on the class webpage.\"\n\nCharles quietly gathered his things together, carefully ensuring he did not do so too quickly. He wanted to ensure he was the last one in the classroom, and was not surprised to find that the last student closed a laptop and sprinted up the steps and out the door. \n\nProfessor Leepgott fiddled with his reading tablet for a moment before he looked up and met Charles's gaze.\n\n\"Ah, Mr. Messier,\" Professor Leepgott smiled. \"I presume you don't have any questions about this assignment?\"\n\n\"I've already given you a packet on the history of Massilia, sir.\" Charles smiled as he walked down to the front of the classroom. \"I even threw in a few subtle tidbits I picked up during my other research.\"\n\n\"Yes, I caught those.\" Professor Leepgott pointed a stern finger at the young man, \"I don't think you'd be amused if, when you're a well renowned scientist, someone dug up you Massilia Paper and pointed out that you insinuated a Germanic peoples called it Marseille and referenced it as a focal point in that same peoples revolution.\"\n\n\"No, I'm sure I wouldn't.\" Charles sat down on the desk and picked up the Professor's tablet, quickly typing as he spoke. \"Have you read the newest pages that have been uncovered?\"\n\nLeepgott sighed. \"No, I've been very busy. Is it something important?\"\n\n\n\"In the grand scheme, I don't think we can say what is and is not important.\" Charles handed the tablet over, \"At least not until we look back with the clarity of hindsight and the perspective of victory or defeat.\"\n\n\"How novel...\" Professor Leepgott trailed off as he adjusted his glasses on his nose and read the tablet. He was quiet as he did so, occasionally sliding a finger across the screen to shift the page. \n\n\"Have you wondered why we can only ever see the equivalent date to ours?\"\n\n\"Hm?\" Professor Leepgott looked up at Charles.\n\n\"Have you?\"\n\n\"Oh, yes. Yes, I have.\" Professor Leepgott read a bit more before he set the tablet down. \"Well, how very odd.\"\n\n\"Yeah?\" Charles was unabashedly excited whenever Professor Leepgott said something was odd.\n\n\"It is as though... their world has hit a tipping point.\" Leepgott removed his glasses and tapped them against his chin.\n\n\"The Rus and America coming so close to blows?\"\n\n\"Exactly. We've seen what happens when the Steppe sets itself against the rest of the world. All too well, in fact, do we know of the outcome.\"\n\n\"What do you think will happen?\"\n\n\"I think we will wait and read, my boy.\" Professor Leepgott smiled as he stood up and patted Charles on the shoulder. \"As I have done for many years, we will wait and read. I've papers to grade, otherwise I'd have a longer chat.\"\n\n\"Oh.\" Charles was visibly disappointed. \"Didn't you have any other thoughts?\"\n\nProfessor Leepgott laughed as he packed his tablet and laptop into his satchel. \"Normally, yes, I would. But we're nearing Saturnalia, my boy, and my daughter will arrive soon. I've little time to get as much as I can accomplished so I can spend every minute possible with her.\"\n\n\"I understand,\" Charles stood and grabbed his bag as Leepgott began to walk toward the stairs. He was quick to follow. \"I just thought you'd have an idea of what might happen, or what circumstances caused their politics to devolve so rapidly.\"\n\n\"It is the fate of man, Mr. Messier, to either overcome tribalism or be consumed by it.\" Professor Leepgott sneezed, made the warding symbol with his hands, and continued. \"Apologies. I can only assume we will receive ever more chaotic updates from 'the almost' until it simply is no more.\"\n\nThey were silent as they continued their walk. Charles wanted to say so much more. What if there was a way to see more from 'the almost'? What if they could find a way to communicate with it? The man had spent decades casually researching it, and now that it had updates which seemed to indicate it was falling into a strange almost end-times, his response was to casually disregard it in favor of his now?\n\nAs they reached Professor Leepgott's car, a small cat emerged and hissed at both of them before it sprinted into the hedges.\n\n\"I hate that thing.\" Leepgott pursed his lips as he watched the leaves rustle. \"It has been doing that for weeks.\"\n\nCharles did not respond.\n\n\"My boy,\" Leepgott sighed as he turned to face the young man. \"I love our chats, but this is just bad timing. In all my time reading about 'the almost', I have understood it to be much the same as our timeline. As humans, we go through wars and peace with much the same grace as a crippled cat. It is as though we once knew how to handle them with care, but have long since forgotten.\"\n\n\"What if we could help them? We've been at peace for so long that we've almost made it to Mars. We are better than men of stone and steel, Professor.\" Charles stared at Leepgott as the man was silent.\n\nA few moments passed before he responded. \"I believe we are no better, my boy. Stone is ground away by the years, and steel rusts like all the rest. Our peace can only last so long. Recall that before the Imperator's Peace we had the Sundered Age. Centuries of war, my boy. Among kin.\"\n\n\"Every generation is worse than the last, then?\" Charles sniffed with contempt.\n\n\"Every generation has the potential to be worse than the last. But, eventually, a generation will be the last. I pray we do not have to see their timeline end, just as I pray that I get to see your generation go on to be the greatest we've ever known.\"\n\nCharles Amalric Messier did not know it, but that would be the last time he ever saw Professor Leepgott. \n\nAnd he also did not know that those words would prove to be the most important of his early life. \n\n_____________________________________________\n\nThanks for reading! If you'd like to see more, check out /r/SimplyDivine. \n\nThe characters in this response showed up in [this response] (https://www.reddit.com/r/SimplyDivine/comments/5r9lsj/an_alternate_history_means_an_alternate_future/) from a bit back. " ]	4
*First expected.	[WP] When you turn 18, a deceased soul narrates the rest of your life. You get a soft spoken, dry humored, witty former golf commentator. Its better than you expected at first.	[ "I somehow missed the golf commentator, and did a different kind of soft spoken, dry humored, witty commentator. Oops! Also kinda NSFW.\n\nEdits: I am just really bad at reddit formatting.\n\n> Human Nature\n\nI toss the end of my cigarette in front of me, and grind it soggily into the pavement with my heel as I pass over it. Littering? Yes, but no one will call me on it, especially when so many worse things happen in this city at night. I look at my watch, but don't bother to wipe the rain off it. I know what time it is, I know that it will begin soon.\n\n\nThis bipedal specimen is a scavenger. In some cases, the Human will hunt, or gather, but when able settles for what he can procure from others' bounties.\n\n\nHere it is, same as ever, and just in time. I hang a right into the alley between the electronics store and the record shop, neighbors I approve of by the way, and scootch between the dumpsters, taking care not to splash water onto my pant legs as I plod through one of the city's foul little rivers.\n\n\nThis specific Human happens to be a male. He's been drawn to this city by the promise of food and shelter, and as Humans have for the passed 60 years or so, has become very familiar with the smells of car exhausts, wet pavement, and the faint underodor of decaying garbage... but there is another smell here tonight.\n\n\nIndeed there is. I breathe deeply and I catch just the smallest trace of upscale man cologne. It is enough to set my mind on fire. The smell is faint though, and I am not sure if I am late or if the rain is clearing the air, but my blood begins pumping hard as I make my way into the parking lot.\n\n\nThis moment is critical. The human could get lucky tonight, or he could not. It all comes down to this. In the clearing ahead, the human freezes as it catches sight of its target.\n\n\nA 2004 Mercury Grand Marquis. Not an entirely fancy car, but a comfortable one, you would never look on it and not think 'luxury'. Unless, maybe, you were me. I steady my breathing and gather myself before I walk over and rap on the window.\n\n\nHumans turn to eachother for all sorts of needs. Companionship, provision, challenge... what happens when two humans come together is never guaranteed. The human's eyes dilate slightly, hopefully hidden by the rain, as the window of the vehicle cracks open. Let's see what happens next.\n\n\n\"You looking?\" I ask him through the window, even though I already know the answer, and he doesn't respond. Instead, the window rolls up and the passenger door unlocks. I walk around the car and take off my jacket before I sit down, making sure not to get the seat wet. The car smells like leather, old fast food, and pot... like home.\n\n\nTension is in the air. Whenever two humans meet for the first time, they both go into a defensive state near to panic. From here we must watch and wait to see if this encounter leads to something meaningful or devolves into fight or flight.\n\n\nI haven't made eye contact yet, but I know just what the man looks like. I know where he lives. I know what he wants. He is nervous, even excited. I hear his fingers fumble as he digs in his wallet, but then he sets two three digit bills on my thigh with practiced confidence. I look up and our gazes meet. It is like having seen the Empire State building a hundred times on paper, and then going there and seeing it for yourself. He reaches down to unzip his pants, but then he sees the gun in my lap, pointed at him.\n\n\nA human backed into a corner will do anything it can to survive. In this potentially deadly encounter, will his prey run, or beg, or try to fight?\n\n\n\"Wh-wh-what?\" I can see his zipper fingers getting wet as he soils himself in the drivers seat of his nice car, \"What do you want from me? I'll give you anything!\" My answer for him is loud, blows out my eardrums, but is largely contained by the car and the pounding rain. He has only enough time to touch the comically small hole in his chest with the tip of his finger before his torn heart fails him completely. My ears ring, my heart pounds, the thrill of the hunt gives color to my world. I hesitate and nervously lick my lips, and look around, wondering if I will be caught when I do what I am about to do...\n\n\n\nThe dust settles. Our predator has found his prey and secured himself a meal. Most humans will not consume members of their own kind, but...\n\n\n\nThis is his nature, the voice in my head and I speak in unison. I smile and dig in.", "As I sat in the rickety chair, staring at the flickering candle, my thoughts were a flurry. It was my eighteenth birthday, and everyone knew what it would mean. My relatives and friends sat silently as they waited for me to abolish the flame the single candle held. \n\nOf course, I had to buy my own cake with the little money my parents sent me. Getting a job was hard, and it would probably get harder with someone yammering about me 24/7.\n\nI did it. I exhaled, staring for a second at the leftover wisp of smoke. \n\n\"Well, good afternoon folks, we made it to the eighteenth hole, and boy does the course look rough.\" Great, it sounded like paint was going to dry in my head. It seemed I was listening to a golf game. \n\n\"Looks like Mintwood is unsure of where to hit the ball next.\" Mintwood was my last name. My narrator was announcing my life in my head as if it was a game of golf. The adults at the table snickered, as if their own narrators had made some snide remarks at my likely visible confusion. \n\n\"Just 365 days left until the nineteenth hole, and Mintwood has no idea where to drive the ball.\" Oh, so this new year of my life was the eighteenth hole. I hoped, while internally cringing, that it would be a hole in one. Under his breath, my narrator said: \"Mintwood, the course is yours to shape, but you should hit the ball.\"\n\nMy family was still waiting to hear from me who my narrator was. \"Sounds like he's a former actor,\" I lied. The sudden burst of a headache split my scalp. \"Fore,\" came the whisper of the golf commentator. \n\n\"'Be honest with the ball here.\" My family and friends looked impressed though, so I left to talk to my cousin. My life would now be an endless golf game, in which many bad golf jokes would reach my inner mind.\n\nHowever, things got better. It started to seem to lighten when I was walking down the street one day. A man dropped his groceries, and flustered, bent down to pick them up. \"Time to hit the ball, son.\" The narrator had been quiet as of late, as I normally sat in my tiny, dingy apartment, doing basically nothing interesting, other than sending off resumes here and there. I was confused about what 'hitting the ball' meant, but assuming the obvious, I picked up some groceries for the man. \"Hole in one,\" I heard.\n\n\"Thank you so much,\" said the flustered man, who was wearing a classy suit. \"If only there were more people like you.\"\n\nA month later, I was typing reports and signing documents at my new workplace. It turned out the man with the groceries had been the owner of a huge corporation, and upon passing him again, had hired me on the spot. The golf announcer enjoyed making constant retorts about 'the green' when I would be paid.\n\nI was hoping to get the stack of papers done as fast as I could so I could get home and watch the golf game. Putting the channel on mute and letting my commentator narrate it was the best way to appease him. It wasn't much trouble to me after hearing him so much, especially because he helped me hit my first hole in one.\n\n\n\n\nThanks OP, that was fun to write! ", "And he takes a moment to line up his shot...checks the wind, knowing how important that can be in moments like these...adjusts his grip, takes another look, and...would you look at that. Oh, it's excellent - quality work there, cracking good. It's a shame his mother isn't here to see this in what is no doubt the proudest moment of his young life. Ms. Tanner, of course, raised him on her own. At the risk of sounding a bit sexist, it makes it all the more remarkable that he's as good at this as he is.\n\nCyrus smirked, shaking his head. He adjusted himself, then zipped his pants back up, taking a moment to admire his handiwork. Phantoms of steam were just visible, rising out of the snow where he had left his mark. It was hard to imagine life without Sir Twillingford of Avoncestershire upon Nightly, as he liked to think of him - or just Stan when he felt more like being brief. That first day had been a little rocky, though...\n\n**\n\nYes, to the surprise of absolutely no one, he's going to oversleep again. The manager at the shops will not be well-pleased with this, obviously. But how will Cyrus react?* Will Cyrus react? A hush falls over the crowd as we watch, and we wait, here live in what is no doubt the grottiest flat I have ever had the misfortune to gaze upon, where not an inch of the grimy grandeur has been spoiled by the harsh touch of cleanser for months, if not years. Aha, but it looks like...yes...it might - oh, dear me. He had shown signs of life and - dare I say it - sentience for a moment, but it seems it was a false alarm. Not as false, perhaps, as his actual alarm, which should have gone off 45 minutes ago. But then, the alarm is like its owner, isn't it - it's broke, as they say. It doesn't work, and the same will soon be true if Cyrus doesn't - but crikey, it looks like he's finally done it! And not bad form for the 18 year-old lad from east Orange, all things considered, not bad at all...\n\nCyrus was sitting straight up in bed, blinking. He'd assumed he was hearing a neighbor's radio and was doing his best to ignore it until he heard his name. Come to think of it, it wasn't the only time he'd heard his name. And it was surprising the his neighbor's radio would know where he lived. He eased himself out of bed, sidling in the direction of his desk/table. \n\nOh, goodness me, he's up! But he's not moving very quickly, is he? One can't help but wonder if Benjamin Franklin didn't have Cyrus in mind when he said 'You may delay, but Time will not.' And this is - I can't understand what he's thinking now, but he's picked up the rather disgusting fork from last night's rice and beans and looks to be holding the plate like a crude - very crude, if I might say - shield. What can be going through his mind at a time like this?\n\nCyrus was creeping through his studio apartment, stepping over piles of dirty clothes and nudging aside used tissues. In reality, the process was unnecessary, as he could already see the whole of his living quarters from where he was standing. \n\nOne can almost hear the clockwork turning in his head - slowly, to be sure, painfully slowly, but turning, all the same. No, I'm afraid he won't have much luck there...\n\nCyrus had gone into the bathroom and slowly lifted the lid of the toilet.\n\n...what did he imagine he would find, one wonders. Some sort of loo-based leprechaun, perhaps? Or a floating video camera? Of course, it would need to be quite a powerful video camera to film Cyrus in another room while he was lying down and with the lid shut, wouldn't it?\n\nCyrus's brow furrowed and he closed his eyes momentarily before moving over to the sink. He splashed some water on his face. \n\nThe question viewers will be asking, of course, is how long can he really afford to faff about like this? The manager will likely be looking at the clock and finding his thoughts straying to topics like punctuality and work ethic and the high availability of cheap labor...and that's done it! He's gone and looked at his mobile, at last. And no one can envy him this moment - the moment of decision! Do I consume something bearing a degree of resemblance to real food, wasting precious moments and shaving days off my life expectancy, or...yes. He's decided. No breakfast today. Time will tell how he feels about that choice. And follows it up with a snap sartorial decision: dirty shirt and slightly ripped jeans, surprising no one. Ah, but clean socks! It is a special day...and the manky trainers to finish it off. Oh, and it's looking to be heartbreak here, he's gone and shut the door without - but no, he's pulled it out! Oh, this is some prime stuff now...Cyrus managed to get his literal foot in the door just before it shut, having realized his keys were not on his person. The jingling of the keys as he picks them up - do they make him think of Christmas on this chilly December day? But no, no time to think about that, or why they were in the sink...and tally-ho, we're off!\n\n**\n\nCyrus laughed out loud as he sat down at the table. He had lost his job at Shop-Rite but things had gotten much better once he had learned how to make the best use of Stan. While he wasn't an omniscient narrator, he was still extremely helpful. The temp job he had gotten in Livingston paid three times what he had gotten bagging groceries and involved much, much less of cleaning up things like shards of glass embedded in a mound of grape jelly. And now, enjoying a quiet Saturday at his favorite Maplewood coffee shop, he --\n\nOh, but this will be an interesting development.\n\nCyrus immediately noticed his narrator's voice was even closer to a whisper than it usually was. It stood out because he knew that no one seemed to be able to hear Sir Twillingford except for him. So why was he trying to be quiet?\n\nSilence crashes over the crowd like a wave. Tension mounts. He must have some sense of what's going on, but the question is, will he notice in time?\n\nCyrus' eyes did a lazy patrol of the coffee shop. He noticed the barista with the nose ring writing down the order of the man in the suit at the counter. He glanced at the tall, skinny dude with blond dreads busing one of the tables. He briefly scanned the chalkboard outside that announced a free muffin for anyone who could answer the movie trivia question of the day.\n\nWell, he's never been the quickest dog at the fox hunt but it looks like Cyrus has noticed Anya at last. Regular viewers will recall this diaphanous nymph as being a regular protagonist in Cyrus' conversations with his friends - unbeknownst to her, of course. After four years of high school together, fans will have to be wondering if today will be the day...or will it be an all-too-cruel repeat of the party at Big D's house? He's bound to know that fortune favors the bold, and perhaps knows that all too often we crucify ourselves on twin boards of regret of the past and fear of the future. He has to be wondering how many more opportunities life will present him and whether, in his dotage, he will find himself lying in bed wondering if avoiding a few minutes of anxiety and fear was worth a lifetime of self-recrimination for not taking that one fateful step. He could even break it down if he needed to, just focus on each aspect separately...standing up, that's simple enough, walking, do it every day, and then just making words come out. He could imagine it like it's not even him, just a character in a story, being narrated in fantastic fashion by --\n\nCyrus's nose wrinkled and he rubbed it briskly. He was tempted to shout \"Enough, already!\" but knew from experience that it wouldn't work. He'd love to figure out some kind of hand signal he could use when he wanted the narrator to shut up for a bit but his previous attempts had been failures.\n\nCyrus stood, and turned to face Anya. It was just 3 steps to where she was standing but it seemed like 300. He admired the bright blue and orange of her beanie that she doubtless had crocheted herself, and the way it accentuated the paler blue of her eyes. Currently, those eyes were staring at the baked goods in the glass display case, and he had an idea.\n\n\"Hey! Been awhile. Can I buy you a muffin?\"\n\nWell, it's not exactly* Shall I compare thee to a summer's day, is it? But it's promising start, I must say, and is light years ahead of previous verbal volleys such as the monosyllabic \"'sup\" of last May.\n\nAnya turned to Cyrus and looked at him blankly a moment before giving a tentative smile. \n\n\"Hi, Cyrus! Um, sure, I guess.\" \n\n\"Hold on, now, hold on, let me guess. You want...cranberry orange.\"\n\n\"That's right! How did you know?\" \n\nOh, this is smashing good stuff from the young man, and surely, no matter what happens from here, a moment of which to be well and truly proud. Unfortunately, this marks the end of our broadcast. It just remains for me to say a fond farewell to our lad Cyrus, and goodbye from me. Goodbye.\n\n(Edited to fix a few formatting issues. If people are interested in more, let me know - I had thought of it as self-contained but could try to come up with a part 2)\n\nEdit 2 - by popular demand, working on a second part! Hope to have it up soon.\n\n**\n\nEdit 3 - sincerely overwhelmed by all the positive feedback - thank you all! The saga continues:* \n\n[Part 2A](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/7hrfts/wp_when_you_turn_18_a_deceased_soul_narrates_the/dqvhvh0/)\n\n[Part 2B](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/7hrfts/wp_when_you_turn_18_a_deceased_soul_narrates_the/dqvhxe1/)\n\n[Part 3](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/7hrfts/wp_when_you_turn_18_a_deceased_soul_narrates_the/dqxinkz/)\n\n[Part 4 - The End]\n(https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/7hrfts/wp_when_you_turn_18_a_deceased_soul_narrates_the/dqyon79/)\n\n***\n\nEdit 4 - Not sure anyone will see this, [but I just found this](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_Cf9-qe9k_0). What's funny is I based Stan off of Ian Darke..." ]	3
	[WP] You have until midnight to choose an inanimate object to become sentient. The action cannot be reversed and you and the object must live with your decision for the rest of your life.	[ "Zhan O'ben was dazed. Perhaps even stunned. Light curled outward from the flat edges of the reflective stone like a sunflower. What is this? His face twisted in a whirl of confusion and wonder. His mouth became a hollow enclave, where echoes would reverberate eternally. And His eyes glowed but for the small dark islands slowly reaching out, sucking in the light. Somehow, what was in the mirror, now flowed into him. \n \nWhen it was over, the light vanished. But it wasn't gone. It had simply transmogrified into a feeling, collecting like sediment in a river of thought. He put the empty mirror down. It had lived just for a moment, and now felt the weight of frailty as it returned to the ground both cold and dormant. \n \nHe couldn't explain why, but the compulsion to leave began to overwhelm him. Not out of fear, and if it was anxiety, it was more-so the kind exhibited before a grand event. He backed out of a strange decaying cave from the side of the mountain, careful not to stumble or lose his torch. The mountain had no base, only a large plateau at the top. And it was always dark. Those who had tried to reach the bottom never returned, said to have been eaten by the black abyss. He looked across the lonely horizon, as if he thought there was indeed something out there. But there wasn't. Silence lashed all around, striking nothing and leaving not a sound. And that same silence boiled within him. Whatever he contained within himself had a kind of inner pressure, slowly growing every second. He realized that he had become a vessel of some kind - but - for what? \n \nHe returned to the druidic halls of his brotherhood a little nervous, tempestuously curious, and bursting with warm feeling. He strode past his brothers in prayer, ignoring their acknowledgements of his presence. When he reached the end of the hall, he stood before yet another carved statue of a nameless god. The weight of what he carried brought him to his knees. He removed the long brown hood which shadowed his face and exposed his golden mane. Fires from torchlight danced across pillars to the hymn of druidic chant. He began to glow. \n \nHis brothers remained in two columns, still hooded and deep in thought. But one by one, they began to glance upwards, towards the statue, then towards Zhan. Their gasps slithered like snakes down the corridor as their eyes widened. \"what is this Brother O'ben? What have you done?\" \n \nO'ben faced the statue when he spoke – the warm feeling he had exploded in magnificent radiance. \"Brothers, I have climbed down into the mountain, and received a gift to share.\" \n \nThe others began to murmur in whispers. Brother Kabold uncovered his smooth balding head and stood. \"A gift you say? By whom? By what?\" \n \n\"I cannot say, for I do not know. But I do know this. You must bring me things you value most. Whoever brings me the most precious valuable, I will give it this light. And I will bless it with life.\" \n \nHis brothers did not stir. There was still an air of disbelief. \"what do you mean bless it with life?\" \n \nInstead of an answer, he gave an ultimatum. \"You have until the darkest hour, else the light shall return to the sky and fade.\" \n \nOnce again, no one moved. At first. But the sound of footfalls escaping the great hall triggered an uncertainty in all of them. One by one the line of prayer broke, and they left. Brother Kabold was the last to remain, but having watched the others leave, he too felt compelled. Some returned with gold and silver. Some brought small statues. Some brought bones of the dead. And some brought others, who brought more things. Things they coveted. Things they loved. \n \nBefore the darkest hour, everyone who lived atop the lonely mountain had brought their things inside the temple. Zhan O'ben turned around. His brothers and sisters had to squint. What little doubt they had was cast away by his reverence and the first of many stepped forward. \"Brother, if you would, please bless this blade – it is the blade of my great grandfather.\" He placed the small sword gently to the floor in front and bowed. \n \nThe next man removed his hood a brought fourth an amber stone encumbered in silver from around his neck. \"Brother, this stone is the only one of its kind, it is rare, and beautiful. I ask that you give it this light.\" He too set the stone at O'ben's feet. \n \nOne by one they brought their valuables. They asked for his blessing, and they left their valuables at his feet. The floor became cluttered, and a pile began to form. And as it grew, the darkest hour did too. In their eyes, he saw greed. He saw desires. And when he looked down, he did not see valuables. He just saw inanimate objects. \n \nWhen the last man and woman had settled their belongings, the time to choose was upon them. Some began to argue. Some began to shout. Some began to push and shove. It was too crowded in the temple. But before O'ben made his decision, he saw a boy, hiding behind a pillar, too shy to come forward amongst all the commotion. When the boy saw O'ben fixated upon him, he stepped from behind the pillar and into the light. His clothes were worn. His skin was dry and covered in dirt. His hair was dark and oily, dripping over his little eyes. \n \n\"He doesn't have anything,\" one of the villagers shouted. \n \nThe boy remained quiet, turning his head away shyly. \n \n\"Come forward, little boy, what is it you bring? What is most valuable to you?\" Zhan O'ben asked. \n \nThe boy moved closer. When he got to the front, he sat beside O'ben, and looked to the ground. It was too bright for his shy little eyes, so he kept them down. The others watched, curiously, as the boy put his hands on the floor. \"The Earth.\" He said. \"The Earth is what I value most, but it is so dark and lonely on this mountain.\" \n \n\"The Earth,\" Zhan O'ben repeated. \n \nThe boy nodded. \"I ask that you give it this light.\" \n \n\"MMmmmm.\" He began to look at the pile before him. Then towards the gathering of people. They began to beg. \"Please, bless my mother's bones!\" \n \n\"No, give me your blessing! Give it to me!\" \n \nThey continued to fight. Some bled from violence, others cowered behind pillars like the boy did. They watched as the darkest hour was upon them. Fists struck face, bones cracked, and screams kissed the air. \n \nZhan O'ben closed his eyes and found solace in chaos. The Earth... \n \nIn an instant, the Great hall became illuminated by a blinding light, burning with a gentle warmth. It seeped through the walls, it flourished in the air, and it ended the violence. The people stood in disbelief. They were dazed. Perhaps even stunned. Then the light vanished. But it wasn't gone. They could feel it, all around them, under their feet, and in the air. \n \nWhen the old doors to the temple were opened by a young boy, something they had never seen poured in through the cracks. It was sunlight. And when the boy stepped outside, he was no longer just on the top of a lonely mountain. The sky was blue painted by soft wisps of cotton clouds. The ground began to sprout small brushstrokes of green. And far off into the distance, he saw another mountain. Then another. And another. The Earth had been given life, and the lonely mountain was no longer alone. \n \nZhan O'ben was the last to step outside. He opened his mouth as if to greet someone, but not to the people around him. \"Mother Earth,\" He said, and bowed his head in her reverence.\n \n" ]	1
	[WP] Your superpower is being super strong, but only at the most embarrassing or inadequate situations	[ "I normally have pretty average strength. Normally. For some reason I got this great superpower of super strength. Great right? If it would always be \"on\" then it would be. Instead, I get super strength when I try to open my apartment door, or when FIFA just goes wrong and I throw my controller. One time when I was trying to put on a necklace for my wife. Guess who now has four bent chains on her necklace, which forced her to wear it until we decided to cut it. \n\nHonestly, the amount of patchwork I've had to do is starting to get annoying. " ]	1
	[WP] Your pet begins speaking your language fluently. It explains that it only feels comfortable speaking to you, and that it will never speak to anybody else.	[ "Adam sighed, running his fingers through his already sloppy hair. The orange tabby cat atop his desk timply tilted its head, as if to silently ask him about his troubles.\n\n“Please stop.” Adam muttered.\n\n“I’m not doing anything.” The feline responded, bluntly.\n\n“No, I mean that silent pet shit. It’s not cute now that you can, y’know, talk.”\n\n“We’ve been over this. I’ve always been able to talk. Why is it any different now?”\n\n“Because I know you can talk now.”\n\n“Well that’s just ridiculous.”\n\n“So is a fucking talking cat!” Adam shouted, slamming his fists on the desk.\n\nPerry brought his paw to his mouth and gave it several small licks before rubbing his muzzle. Dave looked on with a look of dejected annoyance, a grimace complementing his sunken eyes.\n\n“Well all things considered, you’re taking it quite a bit better than I thought you would.” Perry yawned, stretching his orange paws in front of him and arching his back inward.\n\n“Why didn’t you say anything when I called Sarah in? She probably thinks I’m crazy now.”\n\n“Because Sarah’s a bitch. You should hear the things she calls me when you’re not home. She’s not very nice to you, either. Well, I think. What’s a couch potato?”\n\nAdam stood up and sauntered to his bed. His legs gave way, and he fell to the plush surface, the springs sounding an aching squeak with every bound of his body. A smaller, softer squeak followed as Perry lept to the bed in tow.\n\n“Can you just go away for like an hour?” Adam asked through the sheets.\n\n“Go where? I’m an indoor cat. I can shit on Sarah’s bed if you’d like, but I don’t think you’d want to clean that up.”\n\n“Stop being so casual.”\n\n“More like cat-ual. Eh?” Perry snorted, amused by his own joke. Adam simply sighed in frustration, batting at the orange nuisance beside him. “Oh, don’t be like that! You love puns.”\n\n“No I don’t. Shut up.”\n\n“You named me Catthew Perry.”\n\n“Shut up.”\n\n“And the dog’s name is Michelle Ruff!”\n\n“The dog!” Adam exclaimed, shooting up.\n\n“The dog!” Perry repeated, mirroring Adam’s enthusiasm. “Yeah. The dog. What about the dog? What are we doing?”\n\n“No, shut up. If you can talk, what about Michelle?”\n\n“Michelle? No, she’s just a puppy. And a pug. You basically spent hundreds of dollars for what constitutes the down syndrome of canines.”\n\n“That’s…” Adam paused, “offensive.”\n\n“So? I’m a cat. I can lick my own asshole and people think it’s cute.”\n\n“But, still, you can’t say that kind of stuff.”\n\n“Well, you’re the only one who I’ll talk to, so what’s it matter. While we’re on the subject, I think we need to seize the means of production.”\n\n“What?”\n\n“Don’t care to hear the geopolitical ramblings of a cat? Well that’s just racist.”\n\n“I don’t… I don’t know how to respond to that.”\n\n“Well, you can get me some food. I’ll shit on Sarah’s bed. We’ll call it a day.”\n" ]	1
	[WP] Write a story from an EU without name dropping or hinting at what the EU is in such a way that we can try to guess at it	[ "There was a creak in the floor. A girl shot up sword in hand. She glanced toward the furthest dark corner at the side of the tavern room she had checked out, it was empty; she had a feeling no one was watching her. Silently she made her way to the door, carefully she slid it open. She slid out the door. Down in the main parlor men, were still drinking and singing in-spite of it being 1 AM. The tavern owner looked at her from the other side of the bar, slightly dismayed. \n\"Is there something I can help you with miss?\"\n\"No. I just want to check out.\" \n\"Why? Were our accommodations insufficient.\" \n\"No, nothing like that, and I tell everyone I meet on the road, about your fine service, but I would like half of my money back, since I only spent half the night\"\n\"That's not fair.\" The man started softly at first, but became more confident in his stance. \"If I would have known you weren't going to stay I could have rented the room to someone else.\"\nShe looked at her feet, and thought about it. \"Your right, but in any case I'm leaving now. Good night\" \nThe girl turned, and left. The night was cold, with the stark, icy, wind of the north blowing in her face. Even the horse seemed to shiver under the weight of the winter weather. In the darkness she journeyed until the light of a near by village came into view. She went and knocked at houses, trying, in vain to find a new place to sleep. She had to get back home, and would need to sleep to travel all the following day, but she couldn't have went back to sleep in the tavern. Finally she found a small haystack in a field, tying a horse down to a near by fence post, she fell asleep.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n " ]	1
	[WP] You and your archenemies have fought to the death and reincarnated hundreds of times.	[ "I was thinking what if they were reborn each time? Completely different looking each time? It’d add an interesting element to finding your arch enemy. Or what if there were factions? Initially millions of ‘timeless warriors’ dwindling down overtime from the third faction consuming their entire being? The two factions who we initially thought were at war with each other are actually keep themselves safe by reseting each other when a member of the third factions draws near?", "The rain pattered heavily on the windshield as he drove across the empty highway. Visibility was virtually nonexistent, but this did not bother Tyson. He had more important things on his mind.\n\nThe nagging voice in his head, which had been bothering him for over a month, had intensified over the last few days. At first, it had simply whispered phrases at random, about how he was special and destined for greatness. Now it told him to keep driving. He tried to ignore it, but its will was too strong for him to overcome. And so here he was, driving along what seemed to be an endless stretch of asphalt.\n\nAfter nearly an hour of aimless driving, he arrived at a lone structure. He pulled over and jumped out, not bothering to turn off the engine. An old dilapidated building stood in front of him. It looked like it had been ravaged by a war. The windows were all broken and the roof lay in shambles. The front door stood ajar. The voice urged him on, and suddenly the door seemed very inviting. He entered.\n\nThe inside told a completely different story. He was in a tavern and several people moved about clad in armour and with swords at their waists. A classic medieval fantasy world. He stood there astounded, waiting for someone to wake him up from his dream.\n\nSuddenly, he lost all motor control, and his body took on a life of its own. He was pushed to the deep recesses of his mind, reduced to a mere spectator within his own body. He moved, involuntarily, towards a woman who stood with her back towards him. She had a large mug in her hands. He spoke in a voice which wasn’t his but sounded like him all the same.\n\n“Laela.”\n\nThe woman turned, and a broad smile appeared on her lips.\n\nHe recognized her instantly. Heather, the love of his life. Her chocolate eyes, prominent cheekbones and luscious blonde curls were uncannily identical to hers and made his heart flutter. She even had the same long legs and wide hips. But there was something different about this woman. Her skin was tanner and her arms were muscular. She had the posture of an experienced fighter. Numerous scars and burn marks covered the skin along her arms.\n\n“I did not expect you to be here so soon.”\n\nShe looked at him with absolute adoration in her eyes. She reached for his shoulders with her hands and gave him a quick peck on his cheek.\n\n“Duty calls. Long have I hidden in the mountains, learning, training myself to perfection. All just for this day. I will defeat him, no matter what the cost.”\n\nThe words which weren’t his flowed easily. His voice sounded authoritative and commanding. Something which he would never have managed to reproduce had he been in control.\n\n“And I will fight by your side. Together, there is no force in this realm that can stop us.”\n\nThe ground shook. Glasses clattered to the floor and ale was spilt.\n\nTyson’s mind had entered a state of trance. All of it was too much for him to grasp. He was going to pit himself against an unknown enemy and there was nothing he could do to avoid it.\n\nHe moved towards the front door, Laela following close behind. On stepping out, the vision that met him stunned him. A lone figure stood in the middle of a vast stretch of sand, motionless.\n\nHe walked towards it, left hand on the pommel of his sword. Laela followed suit. As they neared the figure, its features became discernible.\n\nThe man was lithe, and his build wasn’t much to look at. But the aura which emanated from him pulsed with evil. He had dark green feline eyes, and his skin was deathly pale. Everything about the man screamed danger.\n\nThe man started to glide across the desert, his long hair whipping wildly around his face, as a dark cloud of air shrouded him, cloaking his body. He drew his sword, a silver blade glistening within the darkness. The sword brought with it a feeling of absolute hopelessness, and the air around Tyson turned ice cold.\n\n“I’m sorry about this.”\n\n“What do you mean?”\n\nTyson reached out behind Laela and dealt a quick blow to the base of her skull. She crumpled, knocked out before she hit the ground.\n\n“I cannot let you put yourself in danger. The risk is too great.”\n\nAnd with that he broke into a run towards the gleam of the silver sword, unsheathing his own simultaneously. The blade shimmered, a vibrant blue. Instantly the air around him lost its frigidity. A few yards away from the dark cloud, he jumped, twirling his sword over his head and plunged straight into it, bringing the blade down on the silver gleam.\n\nThe resulting shockwave travelled miles out into the desert.\n\nThe dark mist cleared and the two enemies stood stone still, facing each other.\n\n“Foolish of you to face me in combat. My skill is unparalleled and my power too great for you to best.” His serpentine voice sent a shiver down Tyson’s spine.\n\n“This should be easy then.”\n\nThe man moved forward in one fluid motion, stabbing at his opponent’s midriff. Tyson parried and pushed his sword against the silver blade. They locked gazes.\n\nAnd in this way the duel went on for ages, neither party gaining the upper hand. They were too evenly matched. White and blue sparks lit up the now dark sky.\n\nFinally, just when Tyson felt his body about to give in to exhaustion, the fighting stopped. He heard a cry of frustration. The dark cloud returned and his bones turned icy. He dug his sword into the ground and fell to his knees, holding onto the hilt for support. He looked up.\n\nThe man had moved quite a distance away. He stood with his sword raised, eyes closed in meditation. A gust of wind was spiraling around the blade, quickly gaining velocity.\n\nSweat and blood dripping from his face, Tyson got up to his feet. He pulled out his sword and mimicked Zephyr, concentrating on the fire, willing it to come to his aid.\n\nFlames crackled around his blade, orange at first and slowly turning blue.\n\nThey swung their swords.\n\nAir rushed towards Tyson with a force surpassing that of a tornado. A blue inferno emerged from around his sword and rushed towards the oncoming typhoon. The two forces of nature collided, and the very fabric of the Universe seemed to rip apart.\n\nTyson was flung back, just as he saw the fire consume the air and hit Zephyr head on. He hit the ground, back first, and just like that, he was back at the abandoned building.\n\nHe picked himself off the floor. He was back in his own clothes and was in control of his body again. A low thrumming sound filled the air. He followed the sound and his gaze settled on a blue glow emanating from under some planks of wood. He moved towards it and flung the planks aside.\n\nUnderneath, lay a sword. It was sheathed, a black scabbard covering the blade. Strange patterns and symbols were engraved on it. He picked it up and felt a warmth flow through his body. He looked at the cryptic symbols and, to his surprise, was able to read them.\n\n“Pyrrhus.”\n\nFire.\n\nHis thoughts wandered as he walked out of the ruined building. His mind wrestled with reason. It wasn’t possible that he had actually been there, but the sword in his hand told him otherwise.\n\nThe drive back to the city was a long one. The whole time, he tried to figure out what it all meant. On entering into the city the traffic slowed down. He turned off the engine and picked up the sword from the passenger seat. He stared at it, trying to discern its secrets. Suddenly, the blue glow increased in intensity. He looked up.\n\nA gust of wind was spiralling in the distance. Several cars rose off the ground and crashed into nearby buildings. A woman ran towards him in the chaos, terror on her face. Heather.\n\nAnd it hit him. All he had seen and experienced was for a reason. The feeling that he was meant for something greater wasn’t just a farce. He now had a new purpose.\n\nHe got out of the car, unsheathing his sword. He ushered Heather into the car, ignoring her hysterics. More cars were flung off the ground. The violent air was advancing. He walked towards it, adrenaline pumping. He raised the sword and performed a series of complex motions. Laughter escaped his lips. It was magical. The sword was like an extension of his arm and he knew exactly how to wield it.\n\nThe final car separating them disappeared from view. The lone figure stood in the shadows, his silver blade glinting.\n\nTyson grinned.\n\n\n", "Standing over the edge of the cliff, I held my sword in hand. I looked down and saw a shadow slowly approaching me from the behind.\n\nI turned around, and she was there. Again. The hundreds, if not millions of time I’ve seen her, the same silhouette still haunts the beats of my heart, the violent pumping of my blood. I felt comfort in the hilt of my sword, the blue ether in its pommel glowing brighter than ever before. This would be it. Revenge for the defeat, the glorious battle in which everything should be overturned.\n\nAs the figure approached, I noticed something. She was unarmed. “Kill me.” She said, “It doesn’t matter in the end anyway.”\n\nShe held her hands behind her back and shut her eyes. I did not hesitate as my blade found its way into her heart, fizzling and crackling.\n\nVictory. Victory that felt like defeat. I did not know where she would end up, whether somewhere close, or on the other side of the world entirely. I did know, that one day, she would find me here.\n\nWe had fought for eternity. We were like yin and yang, light and darkness, peace and war, always existing in chaotic harmony. So long as she lives, the unease in my heart will always be there, and vice versa. To this point, I have lived through every battle, tasted the sweetness of every victory, felt the pain of every defeat, some long and excruciating, some quick and painless.\n\nStaggering, as if mortally wounded, I descended from the mountaintop and arrived at the village at the bottom of the mountain. I booked a stay at the local hotel; it was cheap and cosy, dimly firelit, nothing out of the ordinary. They served great gin there. The liquid that I would devour every day, for this time, it was my essence of my survival.\n\nDay by day, I woke up in my hotel bed, drowsy and hungover, as the unease in my heart grew. Eventually, it became painful, from tiny twitches in the beginning, to full on aches that I could only supress by drinking more gin. She was getting closer. I imagined her taking a sleigh, speeding towards the village; knocking on each and every door until she found where I was, taking out a dagger, a pistol, a crossbow, or whatever she had decided upon, and laughing over my dead body.\n\nIn my spare time, when I’m not plagued by an overactive imagination, I studied my sword. During the day, I would climb the mountain and sharpen its edges on snow-covered rocks, and at night, I’d pump more ether into the pommel, in case I would need to cast a spell. As the days dragged on into weeks, and then months, I would get out less and less, instead becoming more vigil, standing just behind the door for an ambush, an ambush for an attacker than never came.\n\nAs I studied more and more, I became increasing familiar with the mechanics of ether. Why have I not done this earlier? I asked myself. It was still mysterious, but my experience with its properties meant I could devise more and more spells, some too elaborate to be practical, but found others, that although situational, could have given me a real edge in combat.\n\nThen, one day.\n\nI woke up, still hungover from the excessive gin, and tired from pumping ether into my sword the last night, when I heard a knock on the door.\n\n“Come in.” I said.\n\nThat’s when she charged into the room, agile as a fly as she stung with the dagger. I barely had any time to cast a shield spell, but even then the dagger still managed to open a scarlet gash on my arm.\n\nI tried to get up, but she was too fast. I raised my sword again and again but her dagger bent towards my body like a fluid. I felt painful, scorching dots appearing all over my body. I was bleeding inside out. Losing consciousness, I saw her familiar back fading into the distance.\n\n“What is the purpose of all this?” I asked.\n\n“I don’t know, but it’s the way things have been, and will always be.” She said.\n\nThe next thing I knew was waking up in an unfamiliar place. I reached for my sword but it was not there. Damnit, I thought. Losing again, losing everything that I had built up.\n\nMy body was surrounded with a blue glow, a colour that I had associated with defeat. But this time, it looked familiar, exceptionally familiar. Then, it all clicked.\n\nEther.\n\nIt was what our bodies are made out of. The mysterious material was why we kept coming back after we have died. I didn’t know why, but what I did know was enough.\n\nI travelled the seas, looking for the best metallurgists, scientists and mechanics. With my studies of ether, I began designing a device, a device so power-consuming that it would absorb every drop of ether in its vicinity. I died plenty of times too, pirates, assassins, spies eager to steal my secrets. But my knowledge stayed, and eventually, I had it in my palm.\n\nIt was an intricate piece of work, how the gears snapped together cleanly and the tiny plates of metal intersected each other. In theory, it was clever too. It would try to cast the most powerful spell available, consuming a huge amount of ether in the process. Now was the time to test it.\n\nI fitted the device to a pocket knife. Removing my shoe, I looked at my bare feet and plunged the knife. Biting my tongue, the pain was intense, blinding and flashing. When I looked down again, I saw a stub to where my big toe was, bleeding into the ground. If it was an ordinary knife it would’ve regrown, but no, it was cleanly severed.\n\nIt was the first breakthrough in a hundred, a thousand years. I set sail once again, to the place where I knew she’d be still, the village where she had claimed victory years ago. She would be there waiting, preparing, but she would’ve never prepared for this.\n\nIt wouldn’t be another month until I set foot in the village again. When I did, memories of past pain flooded back into me, the humiliating taste of my last defeat. This time, it would be different, I told myself, trying to boost my confidence.\n\nIt didn’t take me long to figure out where she was, from the giant blue beacon at the top of the mountain. She must have been getting impatient.\n\nI ascended the steps that took her to defeat years ago, in a curious twist of events. Sure enough, the familiar figure was there, waiting.\n\n“Where have you been?” She asked. I noticed her massive sword, too heavy to be suitable for combat. It did have a massive ether core, so she would’ve taken a spell-based approach to her new weapon, one that would lead her to her doom.\n\n“I have the means. To end it all.” I answered. I took out my own weapon, a crude sword with the device cheaply plastered to the blade.\n\nShe did not speak further. Rather, she attacked me with spells. My sword could cut through ether like butter though. It didn’t take me much work to break through her spell-based defences to fight her at close quarters. It was a matter of deciding how to kill her from there.\n\nI decided to give her a clean death. My sword plunged into her belly as thousands of blue rays emitted from the device, trying to expel the massive amount of energy it was getting. Mortal, she was now, her blood tainting the white snow of the mountaintop. I kneeled beside her.\n\n“Is this the end?”\n\n“Yes. It is.”\n\n“No more pain, no more suffering?”\n\n“No more.”\n\nShe closed her eyes.\n\nI had done it, accomplished the goal that I had tried to accomplish all my life. It was the end for real.\n\nHowever, my life suddenly felt very empty. We were like yin and yang, light and darkness, peace and war, always existing in chaotic harmony. We could not coexist, but we also could not exist without the other. Knowing that, I plunged the sword into my own body, ready to meet her in the afterlife, if one existed, to start a new relationship, a new friendship, perhaps. This, this was the ultimate victory, an escape to an endless cycle, a triumph to inevitable defeat.\n\nI smiled. It was the end." ]	3
	[WP] Tell the story of the first gift Santa ever gave	[ "The winds rose again as the cold cut deep through me like a knife. Shivering I breath into my hands and rub them, pulling the torn and fragmented scraps of cloth around me tight. The red and yellow lights of the city blurred as my eyes squinted due to the chill. \"Th-ree, thr-ee more months until winter is done.\" I say my teeth clacking. \"Then spring time, good long naps in the park. Maybe even some warmer food.\"\n\nFigures slowly moving around, ignoring me huddled against the cold dark alley, trying to stay awake. It was a fun super power to have, become homeless and suddenly you were invisible to everyone. At least that's how it seemed. Someone steps into a small puddle splashing me with water that stung like fire.\n\nWould this be it, I remember hearing about the cold creeping in, the warnings to get out of the city, find a place warm. Hard to due when there is no where to go. I slowly curled up ready to leave, tears streaking down my face and freezing slowly on my cheeks. A loud thump echoed behind me. I didn't care, I just wanted to go.\n\n\"E- ell-? Are you -? Come on, please look up.\" A soft voice rang out, calling to me like a small angel. I slowly raise my head unsure of what I would fine. Through the blur of tears and snow, I was able to make out a small figure, wrapped head to toe in lively red cloth. \"Ah you so are alive.!\" She says with a smile and starts to fumble with her clothes. \"I know it wont fit, right but it's something.\" She says fumbling with the arms.\n\n\"Who-\" I stammer out as she drapes it over my shoulders and a feeling of warmth slowly starts run through me.\n\n\"Shhh don't worry, lets get you inside,\" She says extending a hand which I pause then take. \"When was the last time you had a nice hot meal anyway.\"\n\n\"I- um who are you?\" I ask confused by how forward she was.\n\n\"Well most call me Sansa, but really i'm just someone who would rather share her studio, with someone then let someone else freeze.\" She says cutely. \"I um didn't get catch your name stranger? Who will I be having the honor of spending the night with.\"\n\n\"Nick\" I say letting the information sink in. \"Nick.\" My body filled with a whole different type of warmth." ]	1
	[WP] In Heaven, people who died as infants are marginalised by the fact that they never lived a life on earth as good people. Not all of them grow up to be good people and run the criminal elements of Heaven.	[ "If all of our lots are predetermined, then it matters little when we die. Each action we ever could have or would have taken had already been made and who we would become was already engraved in stone. But the same logic holds that we would never grow old. We never grew up. There was no future selves which made decisions good or bad.\n\nIn heaven, we grew up.\n\nPerhaps we were bitter at the cast of our die. We were the parentless and abandoned of heaven. Basked daily in the warmth of the Son and all the worse for it.\n\nThere is a philosophy which holds that good is dependent upon bad. That in order to appreciate what once was then one must know what it is like to lose it.\n\nWe never had. We never lost. We were only ever given. We didn't know good from bad. And we were the rebels who acted without heeding what was lost or gained.\n\nThere is only so much bad which can be accomplished in heaven. But we were the worst.\n\n Heaven is a self-less place. It is a place for those who look to others before looking to themselves. It is a place where one must always keep to the light of the Son so as not to fall in darkness. There is one thing from which all sin springs, and in our childish folly we were the biggest sinners of all. We were selfish.\n\nWe turned our back to the Son and we chose ourselves before we chose any other. What did they expect? We had only ever had ourselves.\n\nWe were cast from heaven for ours sins. The children of man. The bane of God. Our innocence was our demise. The Fallen.\n\nSatan would never accept us into the warmth of his hearth, and there was only one place left. So we fell to the Earth, children of the sky. To say we were Angels would be the blasphemy of the ages. We were the Lost whom He would never raise again.\n\nSo we set out to raise ourselves." ]	1
	[WP] A team of selfless superheroes that have traditionally villainous powers and motifs.	[ "The Stormwatcher, ruler of the great storms that scourged this city, now serves it in law. His dark, hooded shirt with rips on the back to allow his dragon-like wings and impish tail to come out hid his face, the blue glow of his eyes pierced the darkness.\n\nThe Night Queen, vampire master of darkness, watching from every shadow, defending the defenseless.\n\nRed, possessed husk of an evil man, ruled now by one of the Lords of the Abyss, lends his considerable expertise to the solving of great mysteries. \n\nThese three were put together by fate. Their lives are now bound, and the great turmoil that nears will be their test. Can they pull through united, still serving their lofty ideals?", "\"Shaman Bones, is in his Daemon chamber.\" Hellfire growled as smoke whispered from his jaws. \"He is talking to Cerberus like he's a puppy again.\"\n\nRoaring can be heard spilling out from underneath them, as the ground shook, rumbling with every daemonic growl, bark and grunt.\n\nSIN pushed her hair out of her eyes as she glided to the door of Bone's chambers opened and it in a cutesy voice \"Hi Cerberus, I miss you\" a daemonic whine could be heard. \"Oooohhhh I know sweetie, I can come visit when Bones can be bothered to get off his butt and do his voodoo mumbo jumbo, yes that's right. You are the cutest.\" \n\n\n\nGrin Reaper started laugh maniacally. \"Bones is going to have his ass chewed out when he's finished talking to Cerby. Go easy on him, SIN.\"\n\nAs SIN glared at Grin, the reaper grabbed her chest and rolled her tongue out mockingly. Grin started laughing again.\n\n\nDr Entropy half smiled at the younger crowd, pushing back his glasses from the tip of his nose. then sighed as a bolt hit the floor. \"For fu-dges sake\" groaning as he bent down from the sofa to pick it up looking up at SIN. She nodded approvingly. Entropy sighed again, He was through his second particle collider cannon. He could see the schematics and calculations on the glasses as the AI parroted back his own mental arithmetics at him.\n\n\n\nAAAAAAAAARRRRGH. The sound of someone screaming could be heard throughout their HQ as red lights were flashing on and off.\n\nEntropy screamed \"TURN THAT FUCKING ALARM OFF\" walking towards the kitchen\nHellfire flew to the switch turning it off and just as it had started the screaming had stopped. SIN turned to look at Entropy.\nWith his hands already up in the air saying \"I know, I know\" he let a dollar fall from his hands into the black piggy bank, he was already walking back to his spot.\n\nBones was back up \"Love you Cerby\" as he closed the door\n\n\n\nJudge the AI, had started the video conference with the president. \" You need to go to the Gulf of México, there's been an explosion on deepwater horizon. We have confirmation that the perpetrator is Angel's Light.\"\n\n\nGrin's grin almost faltered as she clenched her teeth.\nPoof pure black smoke evaporated from where she was sitting.\nPoof she lovingly grabbed her scythe, her head turning 180 degrees as her body caught up with her head, she licked the blade. As black blood started to drip from her mouth she maliciously spat \"Reapers gon' reap\" her twisted smile widening as her her eyes grew bigger. Her pupil dilated but didn't stop as smoke billowed from them. Her smile was now pulling back her skin as it started to tear at the edges. Black blood pouring from her face as the skin and muscles started to evaporate from her body leaving behind pure bone, smoke coving her entire body. It dispersed leaving her in tattered black robes. \n\n\nIt was always eerie to see that although what remained of her face was a skull. The jaws always appeared to be in a hideous sharp toothed grin.\n\n\n\"Laters alligators.\" Her voice echoed with a baritone gurgle\n\n\nPoof\n\n\n\"Dr, please go with her, she listens to you. Don't get involved, teleport everyone out!\" SIN demanded\n\n\"Yes mother. It's called quan-\" Entropy mocked the 28 year old.\n\n\"-Tum entangler, GO!\" Cried SIN stamping her foot and pointing to an imaginary door.\n\n\"I'm going, I'm going!\" He walked into the kitchen got to pick up his holsters with his rail pistols and his utility belt. As he was slinging his arm through his metal backpack them he eyed the bowl of fruit. He picked up a red apple as he bit into it looked into the leisure room to see his other 3 companions looking at him expectedly. Mouth half full \"what?\" He gave one last push on his glasses.\n\n\"Be safe mate\" Bones nodded at him.\n\nClick... bbbbbuuuzzzzzz. He gave his half smile back at the younger crowd as he thought I'm getting too old for this with the buzzing grew louder. POP Static crackled as he vanished.\n\n\n\nPOP\nHe reappeared standing on the communications tower he could see Grin slicing the swords made of pure light away from her and what appeared to an upside down black bowl with smoke evaporating off of it behind her. \n\nTapping the side of his glasses, it unraveled into a half mask with filters.\nAnother click from his fingers as the backpack turned into a jetpack.\nI really am too old for this as he jumped off the tower, the rocket charging him forwards he pulled out a rail pistol just in time to fend off some of Angel's Light incoming swords.\n\nGrin slammed her scythes pommel into the ground, black tendrils flared up to hit Angel's Light as he desperately started to cut at them.\n\n\"Let me in Grin.\" Shouted Dr Entropy. A smoky entrance opened up to show 97 people. 7 according to employment records and Judge were unaccounted for. Calculating the ratios and scenarios of the whereabouts of the rest of the crew members from this rig, he agreed as he squeezed into the middle of the crowd. He lay his backpack on the ground and pressed both button on either side. Whirring and clicking as it started to form a two foot satellite. \n\n\"Hold on everyone. Everything is going to be OK\" He shouted. I HAVE TO come back and find the other 7. I'm not losing anyone today. Click buuuuuuuzzzzz. POP \n\n\n" ]	2
	[WP] Tell the origin story of Frosty the Snowman's hat and why it brought him to life.	[ "One day in the Gilded Age, a rich millionaire by the name of Eugene Falowitz was in his mansion hanging out with some brothels that seemed like was sourced from an entire neighborhood. It was a week before Christmas, with snow drizzling outside while Falowitz had a human shield surrounding him that seemed if he stepped outside, he would stay the same temperature, but the ladies would no doubt freeze with Jack's bite. Later in the night, Falowitz wakes up and crawls from his god size bed and put on his top hat to walk around his mansion while with a cane. He walks next to a dying fire place and stares out the window, wondering his life without a family during the holiday times. He wished to enjoy the Christmas times with a wife and kids, but his monetary empire commands too much of his attention. Outside the window, he sees the snow make a strange pattern, one he never saw the wind make. It seemed to make a pattern within the air that said\n\n\"Head to your study\"\n\nFalowitz believed he was going delirious. He wanted to head back to bed but decided to head to his study, too bewildered to listen to the rational part of his mind. He later enters his study but notices his chair is turned away from him. He never does this when he exits his chair. He spoke\n\n\"Who are you?\"\n\nThe chair creaks as it turns, revealing a rather filled man with a suit that Falowitz rarely ever seen being worn except at important shareholder meetings. He stands startled\n\n\"I am a man that may be able to help.\" Said the man in the chair\n\n\"What are you doing in my mansion, in my chair?\" Said Falowitz\n\nThe man in the chair stood up, and when he did, the room became rather chilly quickly, even with a fireplace nearby in the same room.\n\n\"I am sorry, I thought I would talk to you in a place that you seem to most appreciate at this moment in your life.\"\n\nFalowitz questioned, \"Who are you I said. Your name\"\n\n\"Would you believe me if I did spoke my name?\" Said the man\n\n\"Why are you here. Do not make me call my guards\" threatened Falowitz.\n\n\"I came in peace. I saw how depressed you seem to be every Christmas. I thought maybe I can help you with a rather strange solution.\" The man said while he walked slowly towards Falowitz.\n\n\"What are you talking about?\" Falowitz stood as he points his cane at the man\n\n\"How about I help you turn that sour attitude into a jolly one?\"\n\nThe man lifted his hands right as the snow came out. The snow stormed around Falowitz. He freaks out, but after a moment in time, the screams became distant, and the snow too. All that was left was a hat and the cane. The man lifted Falowitz hat and walked away.\n\nAfternote: I am sorry if this sounds rushed" ]	1
	[WP] You live in a world where the currency is the amount of tears you've cried.	[ "It's manly to cry.\n\nThat's why I can't.\n\nThe richest men cry the most tears. No such thing as \"tear theft\" or \"tear extracting.\" It's only your own tears that matter to anything.\n\nAnd that's why women can't cry. It would make us rich, give us power to do as we please.\n\nBut we're not allowed to.\n\nOur sons, fathers, husbands, openly weep at funerals, simultaneously grieving and getting richer.\n\nMost everyone owns a dog, because when they inevitably pass, tears will flow like a waterfall.\n\nBut women can't participate. That's what society says. It's manly to cry, so right proper women shouldn't. It's not \"womanly\" or feminine. \n\nThat's why all around you see the men shedding tears, waterworks flowing. But the women stand solemn, stonefaced, taught not to show emotion, not to react when a folded flag is brought to the doorsteps, or when a uniform knocks on the door. Taught not to seek help because that might open a floodgate, and everyone knows that women and girls don't cry. It might give us wealth and power. \n\nWe're not allowed to have that. Only guys can have that.\n\nThat's why it's manly to cry.\n\n---\nCC always appreciated my dudes. Felt a bit preachy with this one but I'm always willing to make edits.\n\n\n\n" ]	1
	[WP] You wake up to see an oddly dressed man with a gun. He reveals he's the one who was sent to stop the one who was sent to stop the one who was sent to save your life.	[ "\"I'm sorry mister...\"\n\n\"Snake,\" the man said with a cigar in his mouth and his pistol pointed at the sky.\n\n\"Can you just run it by me one more time? Please?\"\n\n\"The first guy who you met with, Pliskin, was here to save your life Danny.\"\n\n\"Okay,\" he replied after a long pause.\n\n\"There was one guy that followed him and would have killed you.\"\n\n\"Right.\"\n\n\"Then there's me. I'm the guy that followed him to prevent him from killing you.\"\n\n\"Uh-huh, and where does that leave us?\"\n\n\"I dunno, my job was to stop that guy and save you. I'm not sure what comes next.\"" ]	1
	[WP] You've recently become a werewolf. You slowly start to realise that you are being hunted.	[ "The wolf moon was nearing its peak - I looked out the window while drinking my mug of gin. For a split second I felt a jolt fear as I found someone staring right back at me - upon further reflection it was only mine.\n\n\"Damn werewolf nerves\" I sputtered.\n\nIt was only recently that I became a werewolf. Normally people survive an attack only to develop symptoms and later carry on brutal attacks of their own but I chose a different route. I was working odd jobs bouncing from costco greeter to amazon drone cleaner when I saw a posting for werewolf extras in a local stage play-\n\n\"that was truly my calling\" I said to myself-feeling slightly awkward speaking aloud to myself.\n\nI always wanted to be in theatre and this was my ticket. I'd take the vial of werewolf saliva, audition, get the role, take the antidote before the next full moon and no one would be the wiser. The stage play unions are notoriously tough-once I got the role they wouldn't be able to fire me for curing the condition.\n\n\"genius\" I sneered at my reflection-I was doing it again. \"stop it. stop talking to yourself. ok!\"\n\nSuddenly there was a knock at the door. Did they hear me? Shit. It's ok, you can pretend you were practicing lines for a stage play-genius.\n\n\"Who's there?\" I barked at the door.\n\n\"Uhh.... it's Billy sir. Billy Baxter from Studio X - I'm here to talk about your audition\" the small voice replied.\n\nHow peculiar I thought - I had applied to Studio Y... why is Studio X calling at my door? Especially at this hour... I walked over and opened the door.\n\n\"You're not who I was expecting.\" I gruffed.\n\n\"Yes, that's to be expected. We heard there was a new wolf on the market and thought we'd bring an offer for you before anyone else had a chance. We heard you are a shoe in for the Studio X stage play and well we'd like to offer you a role in our upcoming sitcom.\" Billy was noticeably eager talked fast without taking breaths-- he was looking for an instant affirmative response - I could see him clutching was looked like a rolled up contract.\n\nThe phone started ringing.\n\n\"Hang on to that thought\"\n\nI picked up the receiver.\n\n\"You filthy dog!\" the speaker shouted \"Bwahahaha, this is Bill Braske from Braske films up south and I have to say you're one sly sum' bitch if you think you can just waltz in and apply for a stage play unnoticed. I'd like to..\"\n\nI hung up the receiver and put my head in my hands \"God damn head hunters.\"\n\nI could feel the moon take its grip - I would have to take that antidote soon or little Billy wouldn't last past the second act.", " Laura glanced around one last time. Satisfied she was still alone, she quickly stripped out of her shorts and bikini top, and hid them behind some rocks along with her sandals.\n\n&nbsp;\n\n She always hated this part. She didn't want to be caught naked and alone on the beach in the middle of the night. It would be a simple enough explanation that she \"just wanted to go skinny-dipping\" and \"no, she didn't realize the beach was closed\".\n\n&nbsp;\n\n She was afraid a group of young guys out here to do drugs and shoot off fireworks or guns would find her. Not the type who were just here to smoke a little pot and throw Bang Snaps at the rocks and each other. She was scared of the ones who wanted to smoke meth and throw M-80's (the \"good ones\" from Mexico) or shoot Glocks with filed off serial numbers at seagulls or whatever else they could find. The type of people who would kick the shit out of bums \"for fun\".\n\n&nbsp;\n\n Laura shuddered at the thought of what they'd do to a naked, twenty-something woman alone on the beach.\n\n&nbsp;\n\n Although if they tried that on me it'd be a mistake, she thought. And probably their last one. She frowned at the afterthought.\n\n&nbsp;\n\n Laura turned and started down the beach at a light jog, the sand cold beneath her feet. She released the restraint on her new inner wildness as she'd taught herself to do over the last two months. The feeling of power and wildness grew and her pace increased in time with it.\n\n&nbsp;\n\n In some dim, distant part of her mind she contemplated on how she must look quite the spectacle right now; a pale, naked form racing along, throwing up sand behind her, long dark hair fluttering as waves crashed beside her. The wildness consumed her and banished the far-off thoughts.\n\n&nbsp;\n\n Laura grinned at the power inside her. She threw her head back and let out a primal howl as she sprinted, a feat she probably couldn't have accomplished without the wild power.\n\n&nbsp;\n\nShe felt herself start to change then. Her arms started to get longer, and her fingers shorter. Dark patches formed all over her body as she felt hair grow.\n\n&nbsp;\n\n The rush of excitement and power elicited another howl. This one was longer, more animalistic, and echoed off the cliffs beside her. Her face had elongated and her back had become hunched from growing while she continued to run upright.\n\n&nbsp;\n\n Laura tilted forward and began running on all fours, her hands and feet now thick paws. Her whole body was covered in dark hair, shorter on her back half and shaggier up front. \n\n&nbsp;\n\n As she completed her transformation she let out a long, final howl. There wasn't a trace of humanity left in it. It sounded exactly like what she had turned into: a wolf. The wild power in her didn't abate, but it became manageable and allowed Laura's normal, human thoughts to return to the surface.\n\n&nbsp;\n\n She padded over to the cliffs and found a shadow to hide in.\n\n&nbsp;\n\n She turned north and sniffed the air to check if anyone was nearby. She only smelled the salt of the ocean, and the sickly sweet smell of decaying seaweed and beach critters. Laura lifted her snout to the south and repeated the process. She didn't detect anyone.\n\n&nbsp;\n\n She let out a soft, involuntary whine. Fuck, she thought. I hope the thunder of the waves masked my howling. It was after all why she'd chosen this location to shift.\n\n&nbsp;\n\n Laura hadn't run into anyone while in wolf form yet, but the last couple of times she'd shifted she felt like she was being watched.\n\n&nbsp;\n\n She didn't know how people would react to a large wolf on a Southern California beach (or anywhere in SoCal for that matter), but she didn't think it would be good.\n\n&nbsp;\n\n After waiting in the shadows for five minutes Laura decided she had just been paranoid, and took a few steps out into the pale moonlight.\n\n&nbsp;\n\n THWACK!\n\n&nbsp;\n\n Laura spun to see an arrow quivering upright in the sand where she had been hiding.\n\n&nbsp;\n\n An arrow? she thought incredulously. Who the fuck uses arrows?!\n\n&nbsp;\n\n She gazed at the top of the cliffs and caught a glint of silver reflected in the moonlight.\n\n&nbsp;\n\n Without hesitation she bolted down the beach, headed toward a private staircase that led up the cliff face to the beach house above. If she had to guess it was about 300 yards away.\n\n&nbsp;\n\n She ran in a serpentine pattern in an attempt to make herself a more difficult target. She knew her attacker had a distinct advantage with the height of the cliffs and the fact that the beach had no cover.\n\n&nbsp;\n\n Adrenaline brought her speed and the time to have thoughts such as: who the fuck was trying to kill her? Were the arrows silver tipped? Was silver really her kryptonite? She wondered if they were a kind of werewolf hunter specialist. Like some long lost descendant of Van Helsing or some shit.\n\n&nbsp;\n\n Two months ago she'd have laughed at the thought. Two months ago she hadn't believed werewolves were real. But that had all changed.\n\n&nbsp;\n\n Laura figured if she could really be a werewolf, werewolf hunters could be real too, descendants of Van Helsing or not.\n\n&nbsp;\n\n THWACK! Another arrow landed close by.\n\n&nbsp;\n\n All Laura knew for sure was that she needed to keep running. So she did, and hoped she wouldn't feel the sharp, silver bite of an arrow in her back.", "I huddled deep into my raincoat as I waited at the bus stop. It was miserable out. Water fell from the sky in drenching bucket loads, not the quaint little drops that most people would call rain. Not only that, the humidity only served to emphasize the late autumn chill. Even if it was above zero, I could still see my breath in foggy puffs as I exhaled. There was only one silver lining to missing my bus, and waiting another thirty minutes until the next.\n\nThere was no wet dog smell.\n\nI guess I should be more specific. I didn't smell like wet dog. Thankfully. That was the last thing I wanted, or needed, in this sordid mess that was now my life. A dead give away to my tragedy every time it rained or I went swimming.\n\nMy fist clenched in my pocket, and I bit my tongue. I'd promised not to dwell on the past anymore. It only hurt like hell and it never accomplished anything. Chasing thoughts of dogs out of my head, I stared resolutely into the downpour. I hoped whatever mum was cooking tonight was warm. At this rate I'd have to thaw out when I got home.\n\nShifting my weight from one foot to the next, I did a small jig. Around me, other students from my school were waiting, huddled under umbrellas, thumbing through their smartphones. A couple shuffled like I did, trying to trick our muscles into giving off heat. Apparently I wasn't the only one who had missed the bus this afternoon.\n\nOr perhaps the bus forgot to swing by the school. That happened sometimes, usually in the winter at minus twenty and at least two feet of snow on the ground.\n\nShaking one fist free of my pocket I checked my wrist for the time, then froze. The hairs on the back of my neck, my arms, and even my legs, stood at attention. In an eerie intensified goose-bump effect, I was suddenly aware of my surroundings in a way I hadn't been before. Like how the girl three people to my right was chewing cinnamon gum. Or the guy coughing behind me probably had a chest infection, and not a cold.\n\nOr how of all the teenagers at this bus stop texting and taking selfies, only one didn't go to our school. There's a distinctive vinegar and lemon scented cleanser that our janitor uses to wipe down desks and chairs, and it clings to everyone who sits in them. Too subtle for most humans to smell, especially in this weather. But not for me.\n\nAnd that one boy? Standing at the fringe, smelling too clean to have come from J.P. Crowe? He wasn't texting, or taking a selfie. He was aiming his phone at me, to take a picture.\n\n" ]	3
	[WP] You know the drill. Aliens invade Earth, get destroyed thanks to a stupid oversight on their part. Problem is, they actually come up with the solution and try again.	[ "\"It's Them alright. Full stop! Purple alert!\" - said Captain Wilkins. The big purple button was pressed, and all power was cut to all systems, screens went black, radio chatter seized. It got quiet on deck for a bit, as ship came to a still and everyone eyes were glued to the sky, where a familiar shape was descending through clouds. It looked just like the ones that came before, like a giant floating violin in a sky, except it had less curves and more edges, like a violin shaped diamond. Only silver, and a size of Manhattan.\nThen bell rang and everyone was thrown into a frenzy, rushing towards their battlestations, and putting on floating jackets. \n\nCaptain was quiet, but his mind was feverishly assessing the situation. Nearest patrol fleet was few hours away, and must be on its way. Should we engage now or wait for them to join? USS Madagascar was a formidable vessel, named after the battle of Madagascar, armed with a standard complement of a battlecruiser, plus an array of railguns spanning the entire deck. It was designed with a sole purpose of hunting down the remainders of Them. And the the descending alien ship didn't look like a Mothership, so the odds were good. After all, They sure can make an entrance, but when it comes to throwing punches, encounters like that usually end up like David and Goliath story, when David threw a rock into Goliath head. Except we are flinging massive metal alloy slugs propelled by electromagnetic forces. But works just as well. Especially since Goliath here is blind. Humanity's lucky break was due to Their inability to see us, unless we're producing EM radiation, like the radiowaves. USS Madagascar was specifically adapted with shielded reactors deep below the deck and railguns that can be manually aimed so when we fire, it's too late for Them to adequately react to a rain of hypersonic slugs shredding Their ship to pieces.\n\nCaptain Wilkins ordered to prepare for attack. It would usually take one single attack using all railguns on deck to down a ship that size. Second and third attacks often needed to finish it off, but one good attack is usually enough, as long as we fire first. Young sailors run up and down multiple decks relaying orders. Everyone was working with a surgical precision, but there was no feeling of panic or frantic rush, they had all time they needed.\n\nSuddenly a moment in the sky caught Captain attention. A fireball big enough to engulf the entire ship was coming at them from the alien ship. \"Cancel purple alert! Brace for emergency evasive manoeuvres.\" Screens came back online, and whole ship jolted forward as evasion jets kicked in, however it was not enough, and as the fireball clipped the rear of the ship, causing massive explosion shuddered entire ship and disabling it's propulsion. Captain regained his footing and looked up and saw another fireball heading straight for the crippled ship as he reached for radio - \"This is emergency transmission. Captain Wilkins of USS Madagascar speaking. Purple Alert no longer effective. I repeat, Purple Alert no longer effective. They can see us now. God help us a...\"" ]	1
	[WP] Two powerful and ageless wizards are true equals in sorcery, strategy, and subterfuge; their bitter rivalry has been locked in a generations-old stalemate. Seeking new battlefields, they meet once again in the town square to engage in the only form of mental contest they haven't yet mastered.	[ "The permeating silence of a winter's night was broken only by the gentle hiss of the falling snow. Even those few late wanderers brave enough to dare the bitter cold spoke in hushed, careful tones as though the sanctity of the evening. Belthegor however, stood wrapped in the glow of a nearby shop loudly huffing and hrrm-ing to himself at a pace not wholly incomparable to an angry mule in labour. Though he wreathed himself in the warmth of a summer's morning, he was dwarfed within a fur coat voluminous as a church bell, whose length gave way to scrawny legs tapering into a pair of shoes whose heavy bangles chimed with the frustrated tapping of his feet. \"Appearances are important\", he reminded himself as he selected his fashionable ensemble. Though he had lived to the sprightly age of thirteen-hundred and eighty-nine, Belthegor still found the time to be impatient; particularly where it concerned his guest for the evening. In truth, Belthegor's guest had all but announced his presence, having already passed through five layers of careful warding. His guest's slow progress was in no small part his own doing of course, as his layers of complex and powerful artifice prevented any form of magical travel short of enthusiastic skipping.\n\nAbove them, the twinkling light of the stars gave way to impenetrable darkness as the inconsolate wailing of children and animals heralded the arrival of Belthegor's guest, Acererak. \"This late, and you still have the audacity to traipse out this tired old routine?\" Belthegor chided, \"It's downright undignified, even by your standards.\" The night-black robes that concealed the stranger's face shifted as he turned to the mage, as a hissing voice that reeked of decay slithered forth from beneath its folds: \"LONG HAVE I AWAITED YOUR NEXT CHALLENGE.\" Colour rose in the mage's bony cheeks as he concealed a blustery cough; these days it was rare to find new competitions that could actually challenge the pair, and this one had escaped Belthegor's notice for a number of years. Finally noticing the dessicated skeletal hand protruding from Acererak's robes, Belthegor was thankful for the change of subject. Grasping each other's arms, the pair spoke the rites that would bind their conduct for the duration of the evening - a long and thorough contract built through generations of skullduggery, and sealed in coursing rivulets of light that faded into each other's arms. \n\nAfter convincing the brutish guard that no, they were not lost, the pair was led through a subterranean corridor that reverberated with earthshaking peals of thunder. \"Do you need an explanation of tonight's game, then?\" Belthegor mused. The lich growled: \"OUR EYE SEES ALL.\" \"Well I hope you've brought enough handkerchiefs, as I'd hate to have you drench my shoes upon your inevitable defeat.\" The corridor opened to a cramped, humid cellar packed wall-to-wall with shouting bodies and lit in a dazzling swirl of otherworldly colour. Upon the room's main podium a hooded man led the throng in a frantic and rhythmic chant to the concussive beat of heavy drums.\n\nAs the establishment's headmaster introduced the night's event, the raucous din of the crowd grew to a fever pitch. Challenges such as these were a vaunted rarity, and having such unorthodox contenders was an exciting novelty to their assembled jurors. As the pair ascended the podium Acererak's ragged and horrific visage, no longer concealed beneath his robes, drew cheers and derision equal to those reserved for Belthegor's pronounced style of dress. The headmaster proffered a wand of black iron that served as his rod of office, passed first to Acererak, by his right as the challenged party. Silence fell upon those assembled as the lich eschewed the house services, instead calling forth an accompaniment of the damned: Weary cadavers with dull, sunken eyes whose stilted, unnatural movements beat out a plodding rhythm upon tools of bone, iron, and sinew. Belthegor flinched instinctively as the lich began swaying dramatically; no unwelcome magic was being worked here, but he found himself unable to release the tension in his breath. \n\nThis was no spell -- Acererak's turn had begun.\n\nYES... YESSS--\n\nLISTEN WELL JACK, YOU OUGHT TO WATCH YOUR BACK\n\nDREAD ACERERAK IS BACK, TONIGHT HE'S ON THE ATTACK\n\nI SUPPOSE I WILL SAVE YOU ALL FROM BELTHEGOR\n\nHE'S A CHORE, HE'S A BORE, ONE THAT FASHION DOES ABHOR\n\nTO WHAT END DOES HIS MOTHER BOTHER DRESSING HIM FOR?\n\nI AROSE FROM THE GRAVE JUST TO SHOW HIM THE DOOR\n\nJUST CAN'T OUTPLAY MY SKELETONIC UNDERTONES\n\nEVEN HIS PRETTY LITTLE WIFE JUST CAN'T STAY AWAY FROM THESE BONES\n\nI DIGRESS, I CONFESS, BUT YOU TRY MY PATIENCE\n\nWHEN YOU BALL LIKE I DO, YOU CAN GET COMPLACENT\n\nYES IT'S TRUE, YOU TOO DESIRE MY CONTAGION\n\nSORRY DUDE -- BAD NEWS\n\nBUT IT'S CALCIFIED INFORMATION.", "\"Marriage?!?\" Said Saul the black. \"What do you mean marriage?\"\n\nOmologato the orange quirked a half smile. \"You heard right. I want you to marry me\" \"listen saul, we've been at this longer than that stupid sword has been sitting in that stone. I've done a lot of soul searching this past decade, and...and I think the real reason I've been fighting with you is, well...I think, that is, I like you\"\n\nSaul the black gaped at his fellow wizard. \"...\" \"...\" \"...\" \"it's never made sense until now. I, I think I love you\" \"hell, we've been fighting for so long. How could marriage be much different?\" \"It's settled, but I get to decorate the top of the tower. You can do the dungeons\"" ]	2
	[WP] From the beginning of puberty until around the age of 20, everyone is completely physically and biologically invincible.	[ "Karen made a mistake.\nA big one.\nThe ringing of her Watch sounded in time with the thud of the stubber, and her last thought before the rubber projectile obliterated her skull was how she could've been a whole month off.\n\nIt was common knowledge that when you turned twelve, you got the Watch. It was the single most important thing, as it told you how much time you had until you became frail. Until you became human again. On the day you get your Watch, most newly christened teens step out into the barrens. There they would spend a good year getting all of the insane and stupid ideas out of their system. \nBut when you can do anything, you get overwhelmed, and eventually boredom sets in. \n\nThat's when you get a job.\nThere were three prime jobs an Invincible could get. A Justicar, who patrols the streets, punishing the unjust how they see fit. An Elementra, who spends their days going out in areas no normal person can go to get things no normal person can get, whether it be in the depths of the sea, or the vacuum of space.\nAnd then there was the Mercenary. Everyone wants to be a Mercenary, because you just kill those who can be killed. And get paid to do it.\n\nKaren was just that. A Merc. She had spent the last five years on her job, as she'd spent her first three years doing things that she had to make a conscious effort to remember. The job had been good, albeit she'd gone through some tough times recently. The latest job she had been assigned to involved killing a Senator that would make an important vote on Invincible regulations. Someone was paying her $2,000,000 to get it done. \nBut this guy had protection. Justicars followed him, armed with military-grade stubbers. Stubbers were the only thing short of an explosion that could stop an Invincible. They fired extremely fast rubber bullets that could knock an Invincible a good five feet. No injury or pain of course, but knocking them over was about the best thing you could do. But to a regular person? It won't break the skin, but it will shatter any bone it hits. \nSo when Karen's time as humanity's strongest came to an unexpected close, she was met full-force with twenty stubber rounds. \n\nSuch was the life for a Merc.", "\"PUUUUUSSHHHHHH\", The doctor said, \"NOW BREAAAAAAAAAATHE\"\n\nThe doctors hands were grasping at air around her vagina, and he was making sure that her breathing was laboured. He was going to deliver. Damn if he wasn't going to deliver this baby today. \n\n\"PUSSSSH\", he repeated, \"NOW BREATHEEE!\"\n\nThere was silence, smiles, and the wailing of a small child.\n\nThe mother cried, the father with his hand crushed to pieces, sweat dripping off his face, was smiling and crying. \n\n\"7lbs, 3oz\". The doctor said, \"Here is your child!\"\n\n\"What will you name him?\"\n\nThe mother took the baby from the doctor. She saw her hands even as they were rested on the back of his head and his bottom. The hair was fibre optics, the skin like jello. \n\n\"Patrick.\"\n\n***\n\nPatrick was always a funny child. He enjoyed playing all sorts of pranks on his family and neighbours, and most of all, he enjoyed eating whipped cream.\nHis mother never let him outside, and she barely told him what was going on in the world even though he asked millions of times a day.\n\nBut today was different. Today was his 11th birthday, and his parents were always fidgeting and on the verge of tears. He always asked why they were about to cry, but they always responded with, \"Nothing at all dear.\"\n\nWell the big day was here. He was excited! He was going to have a cake, and he was going to finally have a computer and be able to try out the internet he had always asked for, and more importantly, instead of looking at the trees, he was able to actually go outside and touch them!\n\nHe woke up this morning ready to run a marathon. Put on his favorite pair of shorts, and a tshirt that said: \"Something wicked this way comes.\". Too young for the irony.\n\n\"French Toast is ready birthday boy!\", his mother said. He ran down the stairs . He saw a stack of 5 pieces on his plate, and he was unable to eat any of it. He just wanted to go outside. His mother looked at him sternly and said, \"please eat your french toast\". A single tear ran down her cheek.\n\nHe obliged, and blew out the candle on his little cupcake. His eye was towards the giant oak tree outside, and he barely noticed his parents' faces as they were seconds away from bawling their eyes out.\n\n\"We love you so much Patrick, and we wish for nothing but the best for you. I know you want to go outside but before you do, remember one thing. We will always remember you.\"\n\nHe burrowed his frow, unable to untangle the cryptic message. He didn't care, he wanted outside now.\n\nWell, he put his plate in the sink, and finally, put on his shoes very precariously. He then straightened his shirt and patted down his shorts. He was ready. He opened the sliding door and-\n\nHis parents looked on to the oak tree, watching the leaves shake.\n\n\"When will we be able to look at him again?\", His father said.\n\n\"Oh dear\", his mother said, \"Set the timer for exactly 9 years from now.\"\n" ]	2
	[WP] "No witnesses" said Santa, as his two helper elves nudge you onto the sleigh with their candy canes. On it, you found several children in their PJs sitting in the back seat.	[ "I'm sitting with the other kids, and we can't believe this is happening. We've been chosen, hand picked by Santa himself! We exchange high fives but stop when one of the elves glare at us. They don't look as cute as I'd imagined. Kind of like kids, maybe a bit older than Steve. Steve is my brother. He's nice. \n\nSanta sits there in his red coat, and he's just so awesome. He has such a nice smile, and he gives us so many toys and sweets. \n\nWe're flying now, over great big mountains and lakes. \n\n\"Yo Father C,\" an elf shouts over the roar of the wind. \"How many more kids you want?\"\n\nSanta chuckles and rubs his big white beard. \"Just the one, and back to the pole we go!\"\n\nWe're sitting in silence, because every time we speak, an elf glares at us. They're a bit scary, but they can't be so bad if Santa is their friend. \n\nAnother has joined us, and we're four now. Santa shakes the girl's hand and gives her a hug, like the one he gave to me.\n\n\"Soon, children,\" he says, \"you can all sit on my lap, and we'll play such great games. We'll have such fun!\"\n\n\nTwo years have passed, and I'm still here. I can't leave. None of us can. I miss my mom. I miss Steve. I just want to go home. Santa isn't so nice anymore. He says we're too old to play with him now. The new batch are now his favourites. \"Now you're my elves,\" he says. The other elves are too sick to help him. Some of them sometimes go with Santa to the snow and they don't come back. Maybe he's taken them home. It's our job now. Our job to help him find new kids to play with. I don't like it anymore. I want to go home. I want to go home..." ]	1
	[WP] One day, a strange metal object crash-lands in your backyard. Engraved on the object, written in a strange language, reads “Voyager One”.	[ "\"Emma!\" I yell. Damn girl is never on time.\n\nI can hear steps from someone running down the stairs. Damn kid would have given me grey hair if there was any hair left to grey. She comes running out into the garden, the spitting image of her mother at that age. A short, but mercifully brief, pain shoots through me. Golden hair, blue eyes. Got that from her mother, which got them from Carol. God bless. She got my nose, which would have been notable if mine wasn't broken in more places than one. A 13-year old is a hard task to raise for a 65-year old, but we make do. It's the only alternative either way. If her father ever shows up here. Well, the old 12-gauge ain't hanging in reach when standing by the front door for nothing. \n\nShe looks dumbfounded at the metallic object lying in the yard. \"What is that?\"\n\n\"I thought you would know\", I say while picking up some chew. Bad habit. Quit for 15 years, but when Carol went it didn't seem that important anymore. Ain't like a kid nowadays is ever going to think that's a cool habit anyway.\n\n\"Well, it looks like a spaceship, or space probe or whatever\".\n\n\"Says Voyager One on it\"\n\n\"Oh, I remember that. Mummy took me to a museum where they talked about it. It's a NASA thing\". She grows a bit silent. Always do when her mother is brought up. I get it. Everyone loved Emma, especially her daughter.\n\n\"What the hell is it doing here? This ain't Florida\"\n\n\"Well, it's supposed to be really far into space\" She looks at it again. Edges a little bit closer to the crater.\n\n\"Hey be careful there kid, could be spacebugs or radiation or some shit on that thing\". Swearing again. I can almost feel Emma and Carol pointing fingers and rolling their eyes. I can feel the sadness too. But I ain't got time for that.\n\nThat's when the thunder started or. Or rather, a pro-longed boom that reverbeated all over the land. And we saw \"it\". I don't know how big it was, but it was. Father Jones once had a sermon where he used the term \"gargantuan\". That seemed fitting here. One of those word you swear you'll never need, and then suddenly it's the only thing you can think of.\n\nIt must have been miles across. A gigantic metallic cylinder slow dropping down through the skies. Thousands of small booms could be heard, and small jets of smoke and flames pushed out from all over the thing.\n\nEmma stood slack-jawed and looked up at the sky. Couldn't blame her, I did the same. Damn chew even started running, so there I stood like some in-bred moron with chew running down my face as the thing seemed to defy every law about physics.\n\n\"I don't know Emma. But you remember that sermon Father Jones gave about us being the only ones God gave proper intelligence\"\n\n\"Yeah, it was boring as heck\".\n\n\"It was, Emma. Still, I think he might have to revise it a little for next Sunday\".\n\n“Can we go see it?” She asked, with the eagerness that made me love her grandmother and miss her mother every day.\n\nThe earth shook as the... thing... landed. It went on for minutes. You couldn't see it past the orchard, but I knew it was there.\n\n“I think we have to. Like your grandmother would say. We have guests”.\n", "The sun is shining, and I'm basking in its warmth. \"CRASH.\" Everything goes black.\n\nIt made no sense. I shouldn't have been able to read it. And yet. And yet it clearly said \"Voyager One.\" The symbols were completely foreign to me, but somehow, it almost seemed to speak, to communicate with my thoughts. So I did what anyone would do. Take a picture on my phone and post it on Reddit. Suddenly, the air around me rushes, and everything goes black.\n\nI don't know who I am. Where I am. It's a weird feeling. It's raining outside, and I'm sitting at a computer. Wait, where are my glasses? I don't need glasses. It seems as though I'm about to post something on Reddit. I'm on r/Wordprompt, and my screen reads- \"One day, a strange metal object crash-lands...\" \n\nNo.This is too weird. I'm not in control of my actions, and I feel trapped, suffocated. It's like I'm a passenger, watching through the eyes of another. And yet. I don't know. It's hard to explain. I post the prompt, and the air starts to rush around me. Then, everything goes black.\n\n\nI'm in my backyard. The sun is shining. I feel my face and there they are. Glasses firmly attached. There's a mighty crash, and suddenly, there's smoke billowing out from the bushes.\n\nIt made no sense. I shouldn't have been able to read it, and yet. And yet it clearly said \"Voyager One.\" The symbols were completely foreign to me, but somehow, it almost seemed to speak, to communicate with my thoughts. So I did what anyone would do. Take a picture on my phone and post it on Reddit. \n\n\"Repost,\" the first comment immediately says. Huh? He's posted me a link to a wordprompt, written hours before my discovery. What are the odds. The air around me rushes, and the machine, whatever it was, starts to hum. Then everything goes black.\n\nThe sun is shining. For some reason, I feel a little nauseous. Everything goes black.\n\nI'm back in the room. It's raining outside and I'm sitting at a computer, typing a prompt. Everything goes black.\n\nThe sun is shining...\n\nEverything goes black...\n\nI'm in the room...\n\nEverything goes black...", "Steven awoke to a bright light, and what sounded like an explosion in his backyard. He jumped out of bed, leaping down the stairs and onto the cold wooden floor. He ran full speed toward the sliding glass door that led to his backyard, not sure what to expect when he got there. Steven flung open the door, and stepped onto the frozen turf grass. His eyes frantically tried to make out what was hiding in the dark, before he spotted a twisted chunk of metal, about twice the size of him, buried into the dirt. A strange mix of confusion, icy pain, and terror washed over him. He ran his shaky hand along a relatively untouched section of metal sticking out of the left side, facing the glass door. In the pitch darkness, he felt long, deliberate, engraved lines in multiple rows across the face of metal. Looking closer, he discovers the lines resemble writing, and are engraved deep into the material.\n\nA twinge of nervousness hit Kary as she stepped up to the podium. She was normally able to stomach her anxiety over public speaking, but not today. No matter how many times she told herself otherwise, she wasn’t ready for this. Every flash and camera shutter was an assault on her sanity. Taking a deep draw of the stuffy courtroom air, she brings the microphone level with her mouth.\n\n“As of today, December 3rd, 2025, the Linguistic Society of America has translated the writing engraved on-”\n\nKary feels herself starting to shout over the constant camera shutters and reporters yelling over each other: “Mrs. Ia!”\n\n“-the artificial satellite that crashed into the earth on November 6th.”\n\nAlmost out of instinct, she calls on the reporter directly in front of her.\n\n“Yes!” She yells.\n\n“Mrs. Ia what does the writing say!” The reporter yells back, drowning in the front of the crowd.\n\n“It says,” She speaks quietly at first, hesitating, before repeating herself, “It says ‘Voyager One, may all be very well.”\n" ]	3
	[WP] For decades we've watched other alien species practically tear themselves and reality apart in order to stop a threat we can't see. Bu when it arrives on our doorstep, its form is... unexpected.	[ "The aliens tried everything they could in order to stop them. The threat was imminent, and as far as we could tell; very, very dangerous. So dangerous, in fact, that these aliens we had been observing via interstellar scout ships have tried almost everything to prevent 'The Awakening'.\n\nWe couldn't see the threat from our scout ships, or from anywhere for that matter. Some scientists thought they were mad; driving themselves to the brink of extinction and almost torn reality apart. Space itself had almost collapsed in on itself at one point, and for what? This unknown deadly threat that 'The Awakening poses'?\n\nWe ignore the aliens and their futile attempts at preventing this disaster and ignore them. Their seemingly imaginary battle with nothing rages on. Humans begin to worry; this hyperinteligent species we have been observing and communicating with for the last few light years is seemingly insane. People begin to fear this threat that the aliens are trying to protect the universe from... But people still don't know what it is.\n\nAfter months of observation, it becomes apparent that 'The Awakening' has taken the form of a gas, barely visible, expanding in space. This is even more perplexing to us as they are attempting to fight a gas with all sorts of weapons and preventative methods, none of which have worked.\n\n--------------------------------------------------------------------\n\nYears later, the gas begins to reach our solar system. It becomes apparent that the gas was not expanding, just edging closer to us. As the gas reaches our planet, the aliens begin to give up. They have lost hope. 'The Awakening' is imminent. \n\nThe gas gets closer together as it reaches our planet, and by the time it makes contact, it is no more than the size of our moon. It continues to condense until it seems to gain a shape in the middle, a solid among the gas. This solid soon takes a familiar and unexpected shape, one we soon realize was once an inhabitant of our planet, thought to be extinct.\n\nAn ape lies where the gas once was. This confuses many of the scientists and they send a fleet to determine its origin. We find a distant planet, one that mirrors our own, Kepler 452-b is found to be home to a race of intelligent apes who have been experimenting with a form of teleportation that can travel through space. The gas was a mere shadow of the particles, drifting through space, waiting to reach its destination. However, whilst we were examining their planet and focusing all our efforts on the research, we have neglected the ape on our planet, and its turned hostile.\n\n\nSorry this is shit but its my first story and i needed to start somewhere" ]	1
	[WP] Ordinary objects come together in an extraordinary way.	[ "This story begins a little... differently. It doesn't begin with our protagonist. It doesn't begin with a prophecy. It hardly begins with an introduction.\n\nThis story begins with a screw.\n\nIt was an ordinary Phillips-head screw, well-used and slightly rusty. It, along with it's partner, held a windshield wiper in place on the back of an SUV. The vehicle isn't important; the screw is. It traveled down a turnpike in western Kansas at 82 miles per hour. The speed limit was 75, of course, but the vehicle's odometer was in need of calibration and it's readings were incorrect. But again, I digress. What is important is that this particular screw was loose, and that it was early January. These pieces of information may seem unrelated, but I assure you they are intertwined.\n\nGabe Schild drove behind this screw, and by extension the SUV. He was an ordinary man, with traits and quirks like all men have. He had ordinary brown hair and ordinary brown eyes. He had an ordinary job in a hospital laboratory, with an ordinary retirement fund and an ordinary vacation allotment. He was another face in the crowd, another grain of sand on the beach. He was, I assure you, very ordinary. But on the way home from his ordinary holiday vacation, something extraordinary happened.\n\nOur friend the screw, because it was loose, was tenuously and precariously held within its casing, and when the SUV hit a particularly rough pothole, the screw came loose. It flew through the winter air, tossing and tumbling like an Olympic gymnast with a performance that surely would have won it a gold medal, if inanimate objects could compete. Unfortunately, they cannot, and this screw's indignation at such blatant discrimination filled it with anger and a yearning desire for vengeance. And so with a silent prayer to the spirits of its ancestors, the screw oriented itself point-first and struck the windshield of the vehicle behind it.\n\nThe vehicle being driven by Gabe Schild.\n\nI may have embellished a little, but it's much more boring to simply say the screw came loose and stuck into the windshield behind it. Still, it happened, and the impact caused the outer pane of the windshield to fracture into a lattice of spiderwebs. Although he was in no real danger, Jacob was nonetheless startled. And because his visibility was impaired and his attention occupied, he was unable to avoid the patch of ice very presently before him. In his surprise, Gabe jerked the steering wheel, which in turn caused the vehicle to lose traction on the ice. As the wheels turned further, the momentum of the vehicle caused it to roll over sideways. With a crash, bang, and whimper, the vehicle (and by extension Gabe Schild) came to a rather disfigured stop in the once chaste snow roughly 200 feet north of the turnpike.\n\nThe car's performance, I think, may have earned it silver.\n\nWhat came next was eventful, yes, but not by our standards. Paramedics were called and Gabe Schild was transported to the nearest emergency room. It is very unfortunate that his mind never left the wreckage. Doctors would soon discover that he suffered a rather traumatic head injury in the crash. As a result, Gabe Schild fell into a coma. What the doctors did not know, however, was that his consciousness was not the only thing that abandoned him at that moment.\n\nHis soul had as well." ]	1
	[WP] Locked in a cycle of death and rebirth. You are forced to watch your partner die every few years, just as they do with you. One day everything changes. There is another life stirring within your partner.	[ "This is actually very similar to a dream I had a long time ago. Your WP made me think if it, hence the change from years to days. Enjoy Eden\n\n_______________\nI don’t know how much time had actually passed that my lab partner and I had been trapped in this alternate reality. I’d stopped counting after the first year.\n\n\nAt first, we were overcome with joy. Our trans-dimensional device’s field test had worked, albeit, it had gone awry. It was only supposed to punch a window into alternate universes, instead, we found ourselves pulled into one. We were merely interns on our research team, but we were the closest to the machine when the wave overtook us.\n\n\nWhat we found was truly a paradise. The trees were massive and the climate temperate, like a rain forest, but it was not overly humid. In fact, it was far more comfortable than the landscape should have been. We did not find any dangerous predators or snakes or frogs. It was a world inhabited by flora and no fauna. As far as we could tell, we were the sole intelligent inhabitants of this world.\nHowever, we could not get our device to function and take us home. After nearly four days, we exhausted what little food came to this world with us. After the fifth day, desperate from starvation, we began to eat the fruit from one of the trees. It tasted curiously like banana, with a hint of strawberry. When we noticed no ill effects, we continued to eat only that fruit. We had rudimentary gear with us and were able to find and test other foods that offered proteins and other essential nutrients that we needed. We found nothing in this world that proved to be deadly.\nWeeks had passed, by this point, we had already given up hope of ever returning home. We just did not have the technology to create a functioning inter dimensional device.\n\n\nSoon, we fell for each other. Her name was Marie. She was a biochemist in her late twenties. She was also very beautiful along with her intelligence. She ordinarily kept her long brown hair tied back in a bun when she was in the lab. But out here, she began leaving it in a long, braided pony tail. And I was head over heals in love.\n\n\nOne night, while holding each other, we began to reminisce about the lives we had left behind. We talked about how we likely never would have come to love each other had it not been for this accident. We were both lucky we ended up in this universe we called Eden.\nAnd that’s when things began to take a turn for the worse. Her breathing began to speed and her heart rate skyrocketed. Gasping and hyperventilating, she finally fell limp in my arms as her heart stopped.\n\n\nGrief and remorse overtook me. I didn’t know what to do, I had just lost the only other person in a world by myself. Or so I had thought…\nAbout an hour later, after I had found a site to properly bury her, I noticed movement from Marie’s sleeping bag. A horrifying wail came from her, and I ran over to pull back her sheets. But the figure that stared back at me was not Marie. The wretched thing launched itself at me, and I withdrew, barely missing her nails across my neck.\nFrightened and scared, I ran back to our tree house and pulled the ladder up. Hours had passed and she would not give up circling the tree, waiting for me. Hunting me.\n\n\nDaylight finally broke through, and after I’d finally fallen asleep, I realised her screams and moans of agony had stopped. I looked down from the tree house and saw her lying on the ground. Her chest rose and fell smoothly, as if she was asleep.\nI dropped a small rock down, figuring I’d stir whatever beast had possessed Marie. Held an even larger rock, ready to take her out if I absolutely needed to.\n\n\nHowever, when Marie awoke, she was startled. She called for me, asking why she was on the ground. I lowered the ladder and ran for her.\nThe joy I felt, realizing I had Marie back was more than anything I could handle. I cooked us breakfast and explained everything to her.\nWe had decided it was best to build a second tree house, where she could be kept under observation.\nHowever, the next night, she suffered none of the symptoms she had earlier. We celebrated by passionately making love to each other And that’s when everything became a blur to me…\n\n\nTwo days on, two days off. That’s the regular schedule we were able to narrow this horrible cycle of sickness down to. First, she became a monster, then two days of peace where we were together, then I became a monster, followed by another two days of peace. We didn’t know what caused it, we tried stopping certain foods to see if they were the cause, but no matter what, the cycle continued.\nOver time, we were able to control it, if you will. We would strap down the afflicted one before the madness set in, while the other watched them, making sure they were not hurt.\n\n\nOne day, Marie came to me and told me she was pregnant. Excitement overtook me, I was going to be a father! But that excitement soon turned to fear and dread. What if whatever had afflicted us had infected our unborn child? What would happen to her and the baby if either one were overcome by this madness?\n\n\nIt didn’t take long for me to find out. One day, what felt like months after the announcement of her pregnancy, Marie looked at me, eyes wide in pain. She was bleeding profusely as the baby beast stirred with in her belly.\n\n\n I will never forget what she told me as the beast with in her tore through her stomach…\n\n\n “Promise me you’ll make sure our baby lives!”\n" ]	1
	[WP] You're on your deathbed. Your wife is beside you, fighting back tears. You reach up to stroke her cheeks one last time, but then you notice a loose strand of hair. You pull on it only to come away with a thin strand of material. She has a transparent tear around her face the size of a pixel.	[ "The air trickling in through your nose and lips scrape against the insides of your throat. The strand of hair falls from between your fingers. You had wanted to hold on.\n\nDidn't matter.\n\nYou couldn't.\n\nYour hand falls. Your eyes feel loose in their sockets.\n\n\"Wait,\" she says, and she cups your cheek in her palm, and you can feel her, you can. Your cheek is numb and your skin feels thick, but the pad of her thumb traces the contours of your face, and your nerve-endings vibrate vibrate vibrate. You feel it. You hear it. Like static. Like water rushing through your head.\n\n\"Please,\" she says again. \"Please don't fall asleep. Wake up.\"\n\n\"I'm awake, I'm awake,\" you say. Mumble. Whisper. Wheeze.\n\nShe fiddles with your hair. \"I'm sorry.\"\n\nShe cries. Her eyes water and she tries not to blink but her eye-line overflows and she can't stop the tear from falling. It jumps across and down her skin. Rubber bands back up her cheek. Falls again. There's two, then one, then two. Dead pixel. Dead pixel?\n\nTired. Can't follow.\n\nNo. No. Nonotagainno. Make it work. You can make it work - you always made it work - keep eyes open - thinkthinkthink --\n\nHer voice is frantic. \"I shouldn't have let you do this.\"\n\nA rasp. \"It's fine. I'm fine. Just...\" Another rasp. Another breath scraping against your throat. Walls crumbling. Getting closer. Can hear yourself speak. \"Don't make me go, don't make me go. I don't want to go.\" Air. Cold. Feels like knives. \"I'm not done. More work. I need to do more.\"\n\n\"You're in pain. God, I...\" Her eyes clench shut. \"I'm sorry. Please. I can't watch you... You can't keep doing this to yourself.\"\n\n\"I can make it work this time. Don't... I want to stay. Here. I can make it work. Almost there.\"\n\nYou can see the code behind and within every object. The strings. The inheritances. The dependencies. Paint flakes fall to the ground and all you can see is the code. You remember the first time you tried all this, the first time you went back and rewrote it all, your memory. Changed things. Events. Then you plugged the jack into your head. Made it permanent. The static had flared, sparking against the metal. It hadn't worked. Not really. So, you tried again. And again.\n\nAnd again.\n\n\"I can still remember,\" you say. \"I can still remember how you died.\"\n\nWalls crumble. Falling. Collapsing. The beep beep beep of the machines and there's a weight on your chest and you can't breathe. Can't breathe. Like walking against a gust of wind.\n\n\"I'm not real,\" she says. \"You can't make me real.\"\n\n\"But I'm so close. I can do this.\"\n\n\"Even if it's only for a moment? A minute?\"\n\n\"It'd be worth it.\"\n\nShe shakes her head. \"It's not. Wake up. Please.\"\n\nNo.\n\nI can bring you back.\n\nError code 0x000001E == FATAL_ERROR\n\nUnable to open statement: System.AccessViolationException:\n\n(Attempted to read or write protected memory);\n\n//MEMORY IS CORRUPT" ]	1
	[WP] In the year 2020, you are frozen to be awakened in the future. Hundreds of years later you are awoken by an alien species who start cloning you to resurrect the human race.	[ "The fact I was the last human alive wasn't what bothered me most, the fact that everyone that I loved was dead and that I was never going to see them wasn't what bothered me most. \n\nNo, what bothered me most is the fact that, due to them not nicknaming any of the clones, literally everyone is named Chad. And since I'm too lazy to ever nickname anything, so are them, meaning that meaning that Chad lives next to Chad in Chad (our town). \n\nAnd worst of all, started to realize why nobody used to invite me to parties, and so are all of the Chads.", "They said it would be just like sleeping; when they put me in the tube. \n\nThey said when I'd wake up (after few decades, at least), they'd have a cure, and I could go back to my life. I didn't broach the thoughts that had chilled the air more than the cryopod. What life is left to go back to after a few decades? What if there was no cure? Of course, the stares from the staff, the sort you'd give a condemned man being walked to the noose told me that the same thoughts rattled about in their heads as well. \n\nI wanted to shout at them. Call them out for hiding their pity under false words of reassurance. But what purpose would that even serve? Misery loves company, I suppose, but the awkward atmosphere was evidence of misery enough without having to rub it in their faces. They were trying their best to comfort me, after all, and it wouldn't exactly be fair on them, though I couldn't shake the feeling that they were only comforting me to pat themselves on the back. And then I was right back to wanting to shout at them again.\n\nThey'd seen the whole process happen a hundred times though. People caught between a rock and a hard place, scrambling to decide whether it was better to spend what little time you had left in this life, or jumping ship to a new one, fingers crossed that there's still something left of this one. Though the doctors had been frank with me, I either die a few months down the line, or I wake up 50 years from now with nothing. My parents would likely be dead, my friends would've forgotten about me, and everything else that I had or am would be long gone.\n\nNot too much different from just letting me die, really. \n\nThough I suppose people say death is like sleeping too.\n\nNot that I can say much for that, but as for cryosleep, it's nothing like actual sleep. Maybe it's the closest thing to it you're likely to experience in your day to day. Just another way of making it seem less scary than it really is. \n\nWhen you're asleep, your body is still ticking along, just slower. The purpose of cryogenic freezing, I've been told, is to slow the body's metabolic processes to a snail's pace. Theoretically, your body still does age, obviously, but functionally, it'd take millions of years for any noteworthy effect. In essence, I suppose it is actually quite similar to sleeping, mechanically. But generally, you don't take naps in geothermal powered bunkers hundreds of meters underground. \n\nAn understandable security measure. A lot can happen in 50 years, and some of the people down here were likely stuck here for much longer still. Didn't make the 20 minute elevator ride deep through the frozen earth any weirder though. \n\nThey use all sorts of drugs and chemicals to prep the body for freezing, (The body's not used to being frozen, after all) then they lead you to the pods, plop you in, and knock you out. I never even saw the doors close before I was out.\n\nThere weren't any dreams. It was instant.\n\n_____________________________\n\nThe pod door hissed as it opened. Coolant gasses crystallized as it met the air, pooling in clouds all around me as the door opened wider. My eyes felt like they were glued shut, having been closed for however many years, but even through my eyelids I could see shadows passing above me. Figures stood, looming above me as I slowly started to come about. One of the figures, perhaps sensing I was awake, moved to my side, and with the sharp jab that had become sickeningly familiar, slid a thin needle straight into one of my veins. The cool fluid began the run through my system, and as quickly as it had gone in, the needle was out.\n\nI hadn't really questioned what I was just injected with until I started to feel considerably more awake. My eyes felt less like they might catch fire and more like actual eyes. Tentatively, I parted them staring up through the swirling mist at my would-be prince, rescuing me from my eternal slumber. I'd already started thinking of some funny quip by the time my eyes fully opened. \n\n\"Good morning.\" The alien said. \"Did you sleep well?\"\n\n" ]	2
	[WP] Unbeknownst to the hero, a super villain spends his time offering subtle set-ups to cool, punny, or heroic lines. Unfortunately, the hero consistently misses the mark.	[ "True villainy is an art. It's hard to understand what constitutes \"Good\" villains, even for the greats. But, if there was one villain the other thugs could look up too it was 'King Clam-ity'. Also known as 'The Bivalvian Brute' or 'The Sinister soft-shelled sunderer'. He was truly a master villain but even he had too admit that he had met his match. \n\nA new hero, 'Dunder-man' was proving too be a major thorn in his side. It was not that the hero's super strength was problematic or that his 'Dunder-strike' would be 'Clam-ity's' undoing. No, it was the fact that he couldn't pick up on a single line that was being set up for him. \n\nOne of the master plans that 'Clam-ity' had set up involved several hundred geese and a large oven. So when 'Dunder-man' arrived to stop him, what did he say? No, it wasn't \"Look's like you're goose was cooked.\" It wasn't even \"Looks like it's time for you too 'clam up'. All he said was \"Looks like it's time for you too cook my clam!\" \n\nWhat!? it didn't even make any sense. 'Dunder-man' wasn't a clam, he was a middle-aged man in tights with superstrength. How is that even related to clams? To those that don't understand true villainy. The important part of a scheme is the money but, not too King clam-ity. What was important too him was the performance, the witty repertoire between hero and villain was what he lived for. \n\nIt's what he longed for. He would craft his schemes specifically around allowing the hero too say as many heroic lines as possible and only after they had exhausted every single synonym for clam. Only after all that would King Clam-ity kill them. He was of course a homonym-acidal maniac after all and couldn't let the hero win. \n\n'Dunder-man' however couldn't catch a joke set up for him too save his life. Which ironically was the only thing preventing his death. This wasn't just a game too King Clam-ity, after all these years it had become a mental tick. King Clam-ity couldn't kill the blundering idiot until he had at least said one heroic line that had been set up for him. Honestly he was at his wit's end. \n\nThis new plan however was absolutely flawless, or at least every villain thought so. After much collaboration with other evil doers, King Clam-ity had constructed a full proof plan. \n\nIt started with a large Bengal tiger, stored in a massive sack. After defeating that the hero would move on too a half-bird half-birdman hybrid. If he could defeat that then he would move onto the most nefarious device King Clam-ity had ever come up with. The most obvious heroic line ever was set up before him and a device that would kill the first person to utter a heroic line. It would be so sweet when the blundering's baboon's first heroic line would be his last. \n\nKing Clam-ity finished recounting this tale too the four other men at the table he was sitting at. \n\n\"Well boys\" King Clam-ity said. \"What do you think\"\n\"Well, it was an interesting story\" said one of the other men \"But, you still didn't tell us how you died\"\n\"Well\" King Clam-ity sighed \"How do you think?\"\n\nThe four other men shrugged.\n\n\"When the hero burst in, failing to realise the pun I snapped.\" recounted King Clam-ity \"I shouted it right at his face..\"\n\nKing Clam-ity bowed his face and whispered the next line. Causing the other men too ask him to repeat it.\n\n\"Then my own device shot me.\"", "\"Well then, Hemaman,\" the masked man spat as a sneer contorted his gross and hidden visage, \"Let's see if the snake venom is as deadly as they say.\"\n\n\"I guess we'll just have to...\" the hero trailed. The henchmen traded wayward glances as Hemaman searched the rising water for words.\n\n\"Defang you?\" one offered.\n\n\"Weigh you on the scales of justice?\" the other quipped.\n\n\"Coil you,\" the hero said.\n\n\"Is that a direct metaphor?\" the villain asked.\n\n\"No, see,\" the hero stammered. \"It rhymes with foil.\"\n\nThe villain sighed before regaining his composure. \"Ah! So does oil!\" He gestured to his henchman who began pouring a drum of oil into the pool where snakes swam and the hero flailed. The shorter man threw a zippo lighter into the pool.\n\n\"Looks like he's in hot water now, boss,\" he called.\n\n\"Does it?\" the hero said, \"Or am I...\"\n\n\"Wading through the hell I'm going to send you to?\"\n\n\"Going to quench your evil with the fire brigade of justice,\" the hero finished.\n\n\"I,\" the villain's face found his palm, \"I can't do this. Just shoot him.\"\n\n*****\nr/10Kperfection\n\n" ]	2
	[WP] You lost your mobile and you use landline phone to find it. It rings from inside a closet and then an overly nice sounding old lady answers.	[ "“Hello dear! Sorry, your old gran got stuck in the cupboard again. I was using your phone for it’s odd torch feature to find my nice frilly coat.”\n\nI had to make this nice one up because the prompt originally creeped me out... this is my way of dealing with things okay?" ]	1
A story about the unlisted list; children that are not on the nice or naughty list.	[WP] Everyone has heard of Santa's naughty and nice lists. But one list is never talked about. The Unlisted List	[ "Terry Pritchett had tried to be good this year. He really had. Being good didn't come easy to him though. He was a bully through and through, pushing kids into lockers, stealing toys other kids had, the list of offenses went on and on. He was known as a demon by his classmates, a troublemaker by his teachers, and nothing more than a waste of time by his own family.\n\nStill, he had tried. He cut back on the bullying where he could, started tutoring (he was a history whiz, despite being a C student everywhere else), and even helped a kitten out of a tree for a little girl. Of course, he had given her brother a swirly the day before, but saving the cat counted more, right? With that in mind, he wrote a letter, addressed to the North Pole, with the following message, typos and all:\n\nDear Santa,\n\nI know I ain't the best kid in the world, and I know I've done a lot of bad stuff in my life, but I wanted to let you know that I'm trying to be a good kid. I've been tootering in history, and I help ladies cross the street, and I even saved a cat.\n\nI was hoping that you could at least come by the house this year. I missed you the last few times, and even if I get a lump of coal the size of ~~Mine~~ ~~Minnesod~~ ~~Miniso~~ Maine, it would mean a lot to know that your still around.\n\nThanks, Terry\n\nA few days later brought a truly wintry December day. Terry had gotten off the bus into what felt like a mountain of snow, so he was cold and angry when he opened the door to his house. The snow swirled in behind him, coating the floor before quickly melting into a puddle.\n\n\"TERRY! CLOSE THAT DOOR BEFORE I WHUP YOUR BEHIND!\" Thhe screeching voice of his mother pierced the house, drowning out the blaring television in the same room. Terry slammed the door and stomped into the living room, where his mother was seated in her recliner. The haze of smoke trailed up from the lit cigarette in her hand, and Terry could tell that she was nearing the end of her pack. Lucky for him, she had stocked up in advance when the news of the blizzard hit the airwaves.\n\n\"You got a letter,\" she said dismissively, her free hand picking up the mail and the remote in one smooth motion. She waved it in Terry's direction, who grabbed it wordlessly. He had no idea who would be writing to him, and there was no return address.\n\nTerry went up to his room, the ringing in his ears from the deafening volume of the television starting to recede. Once inside, he tore open the envelope to find a handwritten letter.\n\nDear Terry,\n\nI was quite surprised to see your letter arrive to me. Normally I would just ignore letters like yours due to the circumstances, but I felt that you needed to understand the situation.\n\nYour actions throughout the years would normally have you put on the Naughty list. As you stated in your letter, you would not have minded that; however, there is an additional element that merited additional consideration: your family history.\n\nTerry, I have have several run-ins with your parents, their parents before them, and so forth. All of these incidents have caused harm to me, my reindeer, and even my elves in one instance. The last incident came three years ago. Your mother caught me outside the house and threatened me with a shotgun, then shot at me. I am lucky to have some Christmas magic, but it was still a dangerous situation.\n\nBecause of these issues, I have been forced to move your family from the Naughty list to the Non-List. This list is for those whose actions and history will cause them to be ignored and effectively forgotten. To be added to this list is a punishment worse than any amount of coal I could possible, and it is permanent.\n\nThis will be the last correspondence we will have. Best of luck with the rest of your life, and Merry Christmas.\n\nYours, Santa Claus\n\nTerry read the letter three times over, making sure he understood what had been written. He then crumpled the paper and threw it in the trash. Slowly, he walked back downstairs, into the smoke and noise.\n\nHis mother looked at him. \"Kid, what was in that letter?\"\n\nTerry didn't answer, his eyes boring into his sneakers. She cackled. \"I bet it was Santa, telling you he's gonna give you a big ol' lump of coal!\"\n\nTerry finally looked up. \"Mama, I...I don't believe in Santa anymore.\"\n" ]	1
	[WP] As you lay in a hospital bed, with your last dying breath you say "I love you"... "CUT! Okay everybody that's a wrap!", you hear as the walls of the hospital pull away revealing a film studio...	[ "This is it. I can feel it: my heart struggles to keep on beating, my lungs fight to keep the air flowing in and out, my eyelids feel like 10 pound weights. I turn to the love of my life, Anna. We met in high school. She was one of my closest friends then, and I never saw her as anything else. I never thought I would, really. But time changed us both. When I saw her next it was after college and we just clicked in a way I had never expected- in a way NEITHER of us had ever expected. We found a kind of love in one another that neither of us had ever known, had ever fathomed. Only I would be so unlucky to be diagnosed with a terminal illness shortly afterwards. The name of the cruelty which tears me from the world escapes me now, as do most things. Thinking is becoming more and more of a struggle, but I know one thing for sure: I need to tell Anna what she means to me before I go. Laying in my hospital bed, my hand finds her's and with what feels like my final breath I manage to force out the words which mean more to me than anything else. \"I love you...\"\n\n\"CUT! Okay everybody, that's a wrap!\"\n\n\"Oh thank God!\" Anna's hand rips away from mine and as she walks away the walls of the hospital room fall back. My eyes, feeling fully functional once more, look around at the film studio I now find myself in. I attempt to wave someone down as people I have never before seen rush around. \"Excuse me, but what's going on? I don't understand.\" The woman I thought was my doctor stops and looks at me with what looks like pity. \"I'm sorry, Brian, you're free to go. If you go to costuming they should have your wardrobe with them.\" I grab her arm before she has the chance to walk away and ask, \"What do you mean I'm free to go? I was just on my death bed!\"\n\n\"Placebo effect, I'm afraid. You were the perfect person for this role! You're very easy to convince.\" She walks away, not sparing me a second glance. I get up out of what I thought was my death bed and wander around the studio until finally I find costuming. I push open the door and find far more than just clothing. \"Anna!\" I practically shout as I rush over to her. She turns in her chair, putting down the earring she had just taken out. Upon seeing her face I nearly thought I made a mistake. Where normally I would see a loving smile and eyes that shone brighter than anything, I saw the face of my childhood friend. \"You always were gullible, Brian. Made this whole thing so easy.\" She said it so lightly I was almost taken back to the days of our prank wars in high school.\n\n\"What thing? Anna, I don't understand, what's wrong?\" The laughter that broke forth from her mouth was filled with mirth, but I couldn't see the humor in this. \"You really don't know what's going on, do you? Your parents never told you?\" The shock must be showing on my face, because she took on the same pitying look as the doctor. \"Listen, Brian, I'm not sure which of our parents first pitched the idea to the studio, but they thought it would be interesting to film a few years of someone's life and make it a film. I guess your parents didn't tell you because, let's face it, you're a terrible actor and they needed to do SOMETHING to spice everything up. So they threw in some twists.\" Anna's face told me she can tell I am still lost. She sighs. \"Didn't you ever think it was odd that I conveniently wasn't ever able to see you when we were in college and that I just happened to bump into you at that coffee shop? How cliché could you possibly get!\" I'm not sure what to say at this point. I've never been so grateful for how easily she can read me as she takes my arm and slowly leads me towards the exact replica of my wardrobe back at our house- or is it my house? I don't know anything anymore.\n\n\"Listen, you get dressed and I'll take you out to that coffee shop you love so much alright? I can answer any other questions you have there.\" Anna exits the room and I am left standing there alone. As things begin to click I have one realization...\n\n\"Wait...is this why we never had sex?\" " ]	1
	[WP] You are a recruiter for a huge tech company, and you just interviewed the perfect candidate. When you Google her name as part of a mandatory background check, you find out that her body was found brutally murdered and dumped in some backwoods halfway across the country a year ago.	[ "\"Did you google her?\"\n\n\"Did I what?\"\n\n\"Frank, come on.\" Mark said walking around the desk. \"It's the year two thousand and seventeen. We google prospects. Every single one.\"\n\n\"Why, I don't understand.\" \n\n\"It's like a social background check.\"\n\n\"Social background check.\"\n\n\"Yes. Social background check. Look, we have a tight little circle here, right? We all work together. And you're telling me she's the answer to our current diversity problem I want to make sure she hasn't killed someone, or start up some yoga Instagram for god sakes...\"\n\n\"Yoga Instagram?\"\n\n\"Yeah, I want people one hundred and twenty percent dedicated to our cause. You have people these days with all this side hustle bullshit. I want people like us. With the same attitude. Google her. Frank.\"\n\nFrank rolled his eyes. He leaned over on the keyboard. And typed on the keys. \n\n\"Alright, there.\" Frank said. \"Happy?\"\n\nMark crossed his arms. And walked around behind Frank. Looking over his shoulder at the screen. \n\n\"There,\" he pointed, \"That news article.\"\n\n\"Mark, I think we're--\"\n\n\"Click the link.\"\n\n\"--she graduated top of her class Mark--\"\n\n\"Frank, I'm not going to ask you --\"\n\n\"--a walking genius. I'm telling you.\" \n\n\"Frank. Alyssa is in that article. Click it. Now.\"\n\nFrank used the mouse. Moved the pointer over and clicked the article. \n\n\"Jesus.\" Mark said leaning closer. He read it out loud. \n\n\"Alyssa Smith arms and legs we're found in a box left in a daycare center on Tuesday night. And then her torso was found under a car in a Honda dealership two days after. It was confirmed --\"\n\n\"Maybe it's not the same girl.\"\n\n\"Look, Frank.\" he pointed to the picture of the girl, \"That's who was just in here.\" \n\n\"No,\" Frank said looking closer at the picture, reading the caption under it. \n\n\"That's not Alyssa.\" Frank swallowed. \"That's her sister.\"\n" ]	1
	[WP] Earth terraformed Mars by detonating thousands of nuclear explosions at the poles. Radioactivity and freezing conditions make it uninhabitable. However, to some criminals, the Winterzone is their only choice.	[ "25 million. \n\nNothing shines, nothing jingles. Mask on, HUD up, Pierce green, Goule green, I’m green.\n\n25 million.\n\nApproaching low and fast, stealth up, 2 miles and zero visibility. White snow buffets the black night of the display, radiation buffets the hull, and chemicals flood my brain. My blood is hot and cold.\n\n“MAC: get ‘em spinning. Standby for hard stop. 5 seconds.”\n\nMAC chirped and got ‘em spinning. Three pod rotations, 3 backs turned against the nose of the ship, and a cumulative deep breath. Fire command available upper right, HUD.\n\nHard stop. Inertial body compression, cumulative exhale, 3 green.\n\nEyes to fire command, and blink. Guns Guns Guns, rumbling the entire ship. \n\nStop complete, inhale, jettison.\n\n3 jettisons, 3 green, 3 seconds of silver snow and silent night. 25 million. Dead or alive.\n", "Five centuries ago, mankind set in motion their plan to colonize Mars. However, mankind is impatient, and the solutions most of the great scientists surmised would take lifetimes of implementation. A small minority suggested _Overload_, a strategy that would take only a few decades. The plan wasn't anything extraordinarily scientific: a snap-vaporization of the ice at Mars' poles would force the atmosphere to accommodate - to overload it with water vapor. The heat generated by massive nuclear explosions would convert the ice almost directly to vapor, and unlike liquid water the vapor would not be constrained to follow predefined grooves on the planet's surface. Destroying the poles with nuclear fire would make them radioactive and uninhabitable for thousands of years. Humanity would be able to colonize, but they'd have to colonize around the equator. Too close to the poles and nuclear winter would destroy your mind and body.\n\nIf the world governments were run by the scientifically minded, that plan would have been scrapped without thought. Unfortunately the votes were cast and mankind elected to colonize Mars within fifty years - and within a year the nuclear missiles and charges were sent up and detonated. The explosions were so massive that the light and smoke could be seen through a telescope on Earth. To some it was horrifying, to others it was a chance to solve the population crisis and begin humanity's star-bound adventures.\n\nAs for the poles, no sane man would willingly enter. The radioactivity was so intense that satellites orbiting the planet returned distorted images of the surface. These two areas of the Martian world were dubbed the 'Winterzone,' a term to reflect the cold truth of nuclear winter. In these zones, nothing can grow, and nobody can survive.\n\nPeople like Jack were given a choice: either submit to lethal injection, or be banished to the North Pole. Criminals in the Martian colonies had no rights after their sentence. Once you were deemed guilty, you were no better than an animal. The humanity that remained on Earth saw it as antithetical to the concept of human rights, but Jack knew that human rights were nothing more than ancient ideals. In the real world, the powerful dealt, and the weak received. Threatening the status quo makes you an enemy, and mankind changes how they accommodate their enemies. Perhaps in the past it was true that they went by these ideals, or maybe the ideals only stand true for people living on Earth. Jack doesn't pretend to know, and he doesn't really care either. All he can do is brace and prepare himself for the immediate truth: in minutes he would be thrust into the Winterzone.\n\nThe bumpy motion of the truck had long since ceased to bother him. It was clear that the driver sought to disorient the criminal, bound and blindfolded behind wire bars in the back seat. As far as he could tell, there were no others beside him. The plan must be to release him alone. Despite being a guilty criminal, he didn't know the system of lawful punishment very well. Reflecting back on the choice he made, Jack wasn't sure why he chose the Winterzone. He was bound to die either way. He quietly chuckled, at the time it was the difference between dying right away and dying later. If he was going to die, he wanted to die on his own terms, not quietly at the mercy of an executioner.\n\n\"We're here,\" said the voice from Jack's left. He supposed it must be the driver.\n\nA hand reached out for his arm, and following the motion he waddled out of the truck. Feeling the wind, Jack assumed that he must be up high. _Maybe the entrance to the North Winterzone was atop a mountain_, he thought, trying not to trip. Eventually, he was thrust into a sitting position and untied. He rubbed the bruises around his wrists where the rope had been. The blindfold was ripped off, revealing the appearance of his driver. \"Alright kid,\" the man spoke. \"Behind you is a ladder, climb down the wall or I'll push you in myself.\"\n\nJack turned and looked behind. Sure enough, there was a rope ladder hanging from the side of an enormous wall. Looking down over the edge, he assumed it must be ten meters, at least. He gulped, resenting everything that led up to this moment.\n\n\"Get started,\" the man interrupted again. He held his hand over a small gun strapped to his belt. Jack had no chance of escaping.\n\nHe began his slow descent down the wall, each step deliberate and careful. The ladder was shaking in the harsh Martian winds, his fingers turning pale and numb as they clung to the freezing rope. He grit his teeth and looked upon the land. Jack could barely fifty-meters in the fog. There were no lights to guide him, no cities to run to. Once he touched the ground below, he had to try and survive against both nature and man. Surely there would be other criminals wandering around, looking to remove any competition for the stark food that might exist. _What if there's no food at all?_ he thought as he touched the ground.\n\nAs soon as he let go, the ladder was wound up and rose beyond grasp. Jack felt as though he were watching his life slowly drift away.\n\nWith a few brief footsteps and the sound of an engine, the driver was gone and Jack was finally alone. Every thought raced through his mind - where was he going to go? What was he going to do? How was he going to eat? Drink? Sleep? He took a deep breath and looked into the fog. There was no way he was willing to enter any further, the radiation poison would surely kill him, or make him go mad. His best bet was to stay close to the wall, try to find a stream of water. If he found water, he might be able to find trees, and trees meant fire. He knelt down and drew a large 'X' into the Martian soil. That way if he ever needed to return, there would be some marker to where he entered. Otherwise the wall was completely devoid of markings. Keeping one hand on the wall, he turned right and started to make his journey.\n\nThere wasn't much that he knew about survival, nor was he highly athletic. What Jack did remember was a good deal of Martian flora. His father was a botanist, and as a child and beyond, he was introduced to almost every specie his father would come across. Walking in the park was more of an academic experience than anything else for the young kid. He knew that even though he was on the border of the Winterzone, some of the more hardened plants would be able to grow. A general rule of thumb was that if he could breath, plants could breath too. It was simplistic but it was something worth holding on to.\n\nAfter about an hour of walking, Jack saw the familiar blue glint of water off in the horizon. He ran off as fast as he could, obeying the beckoning of his thirst. The water was terribly cold, and stung his hands as he cupped. He didn't mind though, he just took hearty sips, not caring for the consequences. After taking a few sips, he leaned up against a rock, closed his eyes, and collapsed with a full stomach of water.\n\nWaking up, he heard the sound of footsteps shuffling around in the dirt. Jack opened his eyes and saw an older man carrying a large pot on his back. He rubbed his eyes, blinking to make sure it wasn't some radioactive mirage.\n\n\"Hello?\" spoke Jack, nervously getting to his feet.\n\nThe elder man stopped and stared. He must not believe his eyes either.\n\n\"Please,\" Jack cried, running up to the man. \"Please help me! I don't know what to do!\"\n\nThe man remained stoic, but he did respond. \"Follow me.\"\n\n[Split into two because of the character limit]", "Fog balloons on the glass before me, pressing in on the cold red world below. It's small, at least from up here - a singularity of cloud-touched texture and vivacity against a great blank backdrop of speckled black. On a whim against the hardness of the past, I hold my breath for a moment , allowing the glass to clear, the light of my new refuge to shine upon my face.\n\nBut I turn away. It's just another failed experiment. Cold and fogged over and scummier than the back streets of New Minneapolis. Jilted by its stewards, left to spin, abandoned, in the black, it called only to the lowest of the low, those with nowhere else to go. Those who could not afford to care about radiation, about living under the light of a real sun. \n\nHumans were stupid when they bombed Mars. Still are. Destruction can't create. They should have known that.\n\nI still can't believe this is the life I'm going to live. Prison would be worse, but not by much. A keen vision of my vibrant home world cuts across my mind, and when it clears, I'm left with nothing but Mars and the ship and a watery reflection of the tears welling in my eyes.\n\nThere's nothing left, so, with the punch of a button, I start the landing sequence.\n\n___\n\nThe icy winds of Mars's thin atmosphere buffet the Chiffon Ghost's sides, jogging its contents with every burst. I sit silent in the Captain's chair, feeling each vibration in the soft parts of my cheeks. It feels so empty here. So alone. \n\nIt feels almost sacrilegious to break the creaking tension in the air, but a light flashes insistently on the dashboard - the environmental scan is finished. I lift a hand and the moment lets out a breath, freeing me from its clutches. \n\nThe air, the scanner says, is unbreathable - a choking mixture of carbon dioxide and water vapor. The temperature is just above freezing, too cold for comfort. There is no life for miles but a layer of tiny plants and grasses too low even to conceal the color of the sand.\n\nExcept... There is a blip. Twenty-nine miles away, in a crater.\n\nI point to it, and the ship's AI knows what to do. The cabin shudders and tilts upward.\n\nA minute passes, and I cross back to the window. The foggy basins and barren peaks of Mars slide past in a great blur of nothing, and then, slowly, the ship presses to a halt.\n\nI squint down, wishing I hadn't left my glasses at home. Then, as I'm forcefully shifting my mind to something else, anything but home, I see it. A dark spot. A few trees. And then, a light.\n\nA human. \n\nThe Chiffon Ghost dropped gently toward them - a man or a woman, a criminal or a hermit, an outcast of the society I'd thrown my whole life into.\n\nBut twenty-six hours ago, I lost that life in an instant. This person and I - we're on the same planet now.\n\nI ready myself to meet my new neighbor." ]	3
	[WP] You and your lab partner have been working for years studying Visions. Today is the day your testing your device to passively stimulate that piece of your brain. When you do you get a vision of you standing over the body of your partner. You snap out of it and your partner asks "how did it go?"	[ "Don opened the frosted glass door to his lab at 8AM on the dot, and before seeing her, greeted \"Good morning Lizette. You're here already?\"\n\nLizette gave a cheery but mechanically rehearsed, \"Until they give me tenure.\" It was Tuesday and she saw that--like clockwork--he had his #1 scientist mug.\n\nDon broke from script. \"You'll get it today, I'm sure. How are you feeling about the test?\"\n\n\"Not bad. 117 days without an accident... on rats.\"\n\nDon picked up on her nervousness. \"We'll make it a quick test. Pure proof of concept to show the Office of Naval Research that we're worth the money. Is the neuralway surface interface ready?\"\n\n\"Yeah, I've got the hat. Let's do this, before a start-up with interns to test on gives me a better offer.\" Lizette sat in the lawn chair positioned next to the test bench, and plugged in. She closed her eyes and exhaled slowly.\n\nDon typed out the run script, and hit enter.\n\nLizette opened her eyes, and she was sitting in the lawn chair. \"Aw fuck. Rock-paper-scissors for who tells O.N.R.?\" There was no response. Lizette stood up and reached to pull off the neuralway surface interface, but felt nothing. \"What the hell? Don, did you take the hat off?\" No response.\n\nLizette looked at the test bench monitor, and the timestamp showed the last test had ran 29 hours ago, Tuesday 8:05 AM. \"It worked... It worked!... I mean, it's working!... Yeah!!!\" Lizette screamed and jumped into the ceiling, scared momentarily she would hurt herself, but laughing when her head phased through to the floor above, before she landed unharmed. She wondered where she was, and Don too for that matter. She phased through the frosted glass door and screamed. Don's limp and bloodied body was leaning against the door, the hall decorated with number tags and police tape. \"DON! DON! Get up! This isn't funny!\" She tried to nudge him, but her hand phased through his body. \"Lizette! Lizette! Can anyone hear me?!\"\n\nThis is just a bad dream. It isn't working. It's not working. It's just a bad dream. She kneeled next to Don's body and screamed, half to Don, half to herself: \"WAKE UP!!\" The reality of the vision was palpable. The off-center lab title after her name had been added, the frosting that began to show clear from people pushing the door instead of the handle, the cobwebs in recessed lights. Lizette resigned herself to the hellish vision and sat curled in a ball, waiting for it to end. She thought about what could have happened, and if there was anything she could observe that indicated how to avert it. The horror of the scene was too much, and she focused on his shattered mug: Scientists do it better--Wednesday--police tag 4.\n\nThe world slowly dissolved into a bright emptiness, and Lizette's lab came back into focus. The vision of tomorrow was burned in her mind, and she panted, staring through Don as he mouthed words. He's alive... It was just a vision... He's alive... It was just a vision... He's alive... It was just a vision... It was just a vision... Lizette brought herself to make eye contact with him. \n\nDon's brow furrowed. Worried, he asked \"How did it go?\"\n\nShe pulled the neuralway surface interface off and let it fall to the ground. Still panting like a wild animal that had escaped capture, and bobbing unsteadily while uncertain of what to believe, she replied \"Take tomorrow off.\"" ]	1
It could be temporary, permanent, or unknown.	[WP] You realized that you do not require oxygen anymore.	[ "Pounding on the door as I screamed for help, I had to move to my coffee table as the water rose higher. I got on my tippy tip toes and and frantically knocked on the ceiling, still screaming “HELP! HELP my apartment is flooding!” The water was rising quicker than I thought, so I jumped from my table to the top of my sofa. With the water just inches away from my feet, I screamed as loud as I could. The water rose from the top of my couch cushions to my waist, shocking me with sharp shivers as it further engulfed my body. I start to cry, tears streaming freely down my face. The icy cold water now forced me to tread water for a few seconds as I gulped my last breath. The water flowed up past my head, hitting the ceiling. Quick as I could, I looked for a door to open that hadn’t been locked from the outside. I eye a large vent, but I can’t pull off the grate to investigate. Starting to feel light headed, I stop moving and just let myself float. As a few more seconds past, upwards of a minute, my lungs were burning; I had to breathe out. My eyes throbbing from sadness and the building water pressure, I close them. Letting water fill my body cavities, I go limp and count up from 0. 1,2,3...10,11...32....48....63...87...121. Surprised that I could last so long, I open my eyes. I notice I don’t feel light headed anymore; I couldn’t even feel there was water in my lungs if not for the obvious flooding of my flat. I let myself sink to the floor and swim around a bit, seeing everything swallowed up and damaged by the water. I sloppily doggie paddle to my kitchen and grab my small broom; barely more than a dusting pan; and flip my feet to reach the ceiling again. I perch myself on my fridge, letting my sit crouched. Determined to get out of this mess, I bang repeatedly on my neighbors’ ceiling; moving around my flat a bit to get anyone’s attention. Finally hearing frantic footsteps, I hear commotion outside my door. Finally the front door is pried open; spilling all the water from the flood down the hallway and into my neighbors’ open doors. I swim over to the handyman who opened my door and struggle to bring his overweight man pounch to higher levels. Now treading water on his own, he takes a few breaths and looks at me in amazement. “How long were you under lass? The leakage was powerful, and went on for more than a while. How did you not drown?!” He wheezed. “Found am air bubble, guess I’m lucky.” I utter. “You’re a damn good breath holder!” He joked as we swam away towards the window, seeing firefighters and police cars arriving. Yeah, lucky as a clam, and don’t know why- maybe this flooding helping me find out I don’t need air to breathe was a blessing I thought to myself. Lucky enough to spend minutes underwater - not a bad newfound gift. ", "I pounded on the door, screaming to my former friends. But my plea fell on deaf ears. They’d made up their minds. I was the only one to stand in their way, everyone else onboard wanted to return to Earth. The ship wouldn’t turn around without captain approval and it wouldn’t select a new captain until the old one was dead. And since I, as captain, continued to refuse, the crew elected to mutiny. I stopped banging on the door, I quietly resigned myself to a corner of the airlock. I took a few deep breaths, thinking maybe I’d extend my life a few extra seconds, maybe they’d change their minds and pull me back in somehow. But it was dumb to hope for that; I decided it’d be better if I got it over with. I exhaled.\n\n\nI felt weightless again, now that I didn’t have the artificial gravity of my ship to root me to the floor. I spun around, orienting myself to see my ship sail off into the known regions of space, returning home. I felt a little cold out there, but it also felt peaceful. A sudden panic enveloped me. Why wasn’t I unconscious yet? I should have passed out from oxygen deprivation. My mind raced, did I not need oxygen to live? Did I need water, food? Was I immortal? Was I going to spend eternity, floating through the void?\n\n\nI tried to scream. I couldn’t. \n", "Buddhists have it right. life is suffering. Ultimately, no matter what you do, bad things happen to good people. That's just the way of life- or at least that's what I was telling myself. In a way, it's what I needed. It's easier to die a martyr than a scumbag. \n\nHanging is the easiest way to kill yourself. When you hang, blood flow to your brain is restricted. it's said to dull your senses and pain receptors. And it's not messy. At the very least, it's a considerate form of suicide. At least in death, I could avoid disappointing people. \"Bad things happen to good people,\" I reminded myself, while fashioning the noose around my neck. I took one last deep breath, then kicked the stool out from under my feet. They say you see your life flash in front of your you when you die, but all I could think about was whether I'd shit myself when I was gone. \n\nIt'd been long enough by now that I was feeling hungry. The once-liberating noose around my neck now just felt irritating. Hanging is supposed to kill you within twenty minutes. At the very least, I should've passed out three to four minutes in. I can't believe I'm saying this, but hanging is a fucking scam. My neck was sore, burning, and purple, but I was not dying. This had been a painful waste of time. Somehow, I'd even failed at killing myself. Fuck. " ]	3
	[WP]You live in a remote rural home. There's a fresh snowfall one night. When you wake up the next day, thousands of footprints are in the snow around your home.	[ "It was usually so quiet. Peaceful, far away from that ever accelerating, frantic world. Just a few sustanance errands to run every day, allowing myself to simply enjoy time and life as they passed. \n\nThen came the night of the snowfall. Not overwhelming, but accompanied by a deep, thundering bass that shook the walls, and streaking lights that shone past my heavy curtains as if they were paper machè.\n\nNeedless to say, I didn't sleep a wink, and when I rose out of my almost pristine bed the next day, and walked outside to the sight of thousands of footsteps on the ground, all I could think was: \n\n\"Fucking ravers\"", "So, I guess it's here. This is where I die. I suppose it's as good a place as any. I've always loved the snow, the cold. Any reason to snuggle up in a blanket really. Though I'd rather I wasn't here alone. But that's my burden, an unavoidable consequence.\n\nShe stares into the crackling fire with indifferent eyes, stretching the cover of the book in her hands; an old copy of Moby Dick, worn from her numerous readings. The chalet, in which she had recently chosen to sequester herself, lay at the foot of the two great mountains, about an hours drive from town. When the snow falls, the chalet is usually vacant due to the area's notoriously intense snowstorms; though it may also be attributed to the lack of power, phone, or the twisting roads with sporadic signage leading up to it. But this didn't bother her, she could handle most any problems thrown her way. As she stares into the flames they begin to grow, rapidly. Suddenly the crackling becomes more violent, and the room lights up as if the sun had just risen inches away from the window. The firewood is quickly consumed, leaving behind nothing but grains of ash, and scorch marks seared into the ground, to which she turns away from, impetuously tossing the book onto the floor. She gets up and walks toward the window to the right of the door, raising her hand to the glass and melting away the frost with minimal effort. Outside, violent winds make it difficult to see much farther than an arm's length; but still she stands there, looking.\n\nI feel it, desperation. But it's not my own. It's theirs. I can feel them, as if they were here next to me. And perhaps they are... Yes, they are. Very close.\n\nShe removes a tiny piece of chalk from her pocket and crouches down to the ground, drawing a symbol that resembles a human eye. Hurriedly, she moves around the windows and doorways drawing similar symbols, all resembling one of the meridian; a heart, a stomach, a hand. Each granting a specific kind of protection which she knew to be temporary. As she draws the final symbol in the centre-most point of the chalet, she hears it. Nothing. No longer is the wind howling, nor the chalk squeaking against the wooden floor. Everything is completely silent. They are here. She sprints to pick the book up off the floor, and quickly looks around to see the chalet windows already smashed. Burying the book in her chest, she rushes back to the chalet's centre, opens it to the bookmarked page, and begins mouthing its words.\n\nIn the morning, the storm is cleared and the sun shines, for the first time in weeks, between the two great mountains overlooking the chalet; which stands scorched, and surrounded by large crater, appearing a crudely-formed mote. Inside she lies naked, curled up like a fetus, surrounded by ash. \n\n\n", "It was nice to be alone. It's not that I was happy that Mark had to go away for Christmas, but the quiet was comforting.\n\nI began to feel a little drowsy as I sipped at my mulled wine, and I watched through the windows as the snow fell; a fresh blanket of white that washed away the grey sludge that lay beneath it. It made me smile. For the first time in a long time, it was a White Christmas.\n\nI thought about how Mark was doing. How the kids were coping. \n\nI was just able to hear the faint crackling of firewood over Beethoven's moonlight sonata, and as I lay there, I couldn't help but feel a pang of nostalgia that stabbed at my heart. I missed them so much. I closed my eyes, and I drifted away... \n\nTHUD.\n\nI sat up and looked around with wild eyes. I could have sworn I'd heard something. \n\nOutside, the sun was shining against the pale blue sky. Everything seemed to be in order. Slowly, I stood up, and went to open the door.\n\nI gasped. Footprints, in the snow. Thousands of them. Leading up to the house...\n\n\"Hello?\" I shouted, trying in vain to disguise the tremor in my voice.\n\nSilence. \n\nAnd then, from behind me, I heard a voice, barely above a whisper. hello.\n\n\nI knew that voice. That was Mark's voice. But how? Had he come back early to surprise me?\n\nI spun around. There was no one there. Was I going mad?\n\nyou're not going mad. look in the mirror, alice.\n\n\nMy heart was beating out of my chest. Slowly, so slowly, I approached the mirror. And I gasped. \n\n\"No... n-n-no.\" I took a step back, crashing into the table behind me. \"You're not real. You're supposed to be... You're...\"\n\nI didn't want to see them. I had to see them. I couldn't tear my eyes away. They were crying softly, looking at me with sad eyes and smiling gently.\n\n we love you mommy.\n\nMark appeared, and he held their tiny little hands. He didn't say anything. He just looked at me with sorrow as he slowly turned to walk away, a solitary tear rolling down his cheek.\n\nI tried to reach out behind the glass; to hold them and never let go, but they were slowly disappearing, fading away like an old photograph.\n\n\"No... d-don't leave me... please,\" I sobbed. My reflection sobbed back. They were gone. \"Please...\" I whispered.\n\nI fell to the floor and screwed my eyes shut, ignoring the hot tears that fell freely as I desperately tried to keep them alive in my head. \n\nMy children, my beautiful children...\n\nOh God... What had I done?\n\nOutside, the snow fell, and the footprints slowly faded away. \n" ]	3
"thot begone"	[WP] Thoth, Egyptian god of scribes, got fed up with the internet wanting him "begone", so he did. But he took the written word with him.	[ ".-- .... . -. / - .... --- - .... / .-.. . ..-. - --..-- / . ...- . .-. -.-- -... --- -.. -.-- / .-- .- ... / .. -. / .- / ..-. .-. . -. --.. -.-- .-.-.- / - .... . / .-- --- .-. .-.. -.. / ..-. . .-.. .-.. / .. -. - --- / -.-. .... .- --- ... --..-- / -.. --- -.-. ..- -- . -. - ... --..-- / .-- .. -.- .. .--. . -.. .. .- --..-- / . ...- . .-. -.-- / .-.. .- ... - / .-- --- .-. -.. / - .... .- - / .... .- ... / -... . . -. / .-- .-. .. - - . -. / .- -. -.. / -.-. --- ..- .-.. -.. / -... . / .-- .-. .. - - . -. / .-- . .-. . / .- -... --- .-.. .. ... .... . -.. .-.-.- / -. --- .-- / .-- . / .-.. .. ...- . / .... . .-. . .-.-.- / .. -. / .- / .-- --- .-. .-.. -.. / .-- .. - .... --- ..- - / .-- --- .-. -.. ... .-.-.- / .-.. ..- -.-. -.- .. .-.. -.-- --..-- / .-- . / .... ..- -- .- -. ... / ..-. --- ..- -. -.. / .- / .-- .- -.-- .-.-.- / .-- . / ..-. --- ..- -. -.. / .- / .-- .- -.-- / - --- / .-- --- .-. -.- .-.-.- / .-- . / -.-. .- -- . / - --- / - .... .- - / .-- . / -.-. --- ..- .-.. -.. / .- .-.. .-.. / . .- ... .. .-.. -.-- / .-- --- .-. -.- / .-- .. - .... / -- --- .-. ... . .-.-.- / --- -. . / .-- .-. .. - - . -. / .-.. .- -. --. ..- .- --. . --..-- / -.-. --- -- .--. .-.. . - . .-.. -.-- / ..- -. .. ...- . .-. ... .- .-.. --..-- / . ...- . .-. -.-- -... --- -.. -.-- / -.-. --- ..- .-.. -.. / ..- ... . .-.-.- / - .... . .-. . / .-- . .-. . / ... - .. .-.. .-.. / .-- .- .-. ... --..-- / --.- ..- .- .-. .-. . .-.. ... --..-- / .- -. -.. / . -. . -- .. . ... --..-- / -... ..- - / .- - / .-.. . .- ... - / .-- . / -.-. --- ..- .-.. -.. / ..- -. -.. . .-. ... - .- -. -.. / .. ..-. / ... --- -- . --- -. . / - .-. .. . -.. / - --- / ... . -. -.. / .- / .-.. . - - . .-. .-.-.- / .-- . / -. . ...- . .-. / -. . . -.. . -.. / - .... --- - .... .-.-.- / .. -. / ..-. .- -.-. - --..-- / .. / - .... .. -. -.- / .... . / -- .- -.. . / - .... .. -. --. ... / .- / .-- .... --- .-.. . / .-.. --- - / -... . - - . .-. .-.-.-" ]	1
	[WP] Peace Talks had never before involved a dragon, a knight, and a dwarf.	[ "I rubbed my temples one more time, careful to avoid scattering the papers on my desk. My office, packed to the brim with stacks of legal documents and ancient tomes, was really starting to feel like a prison. I took a deep breath, counted to ten, and exhaled. Okay, I was ready. Grasping my quill, I asked, “Alright, who are the ambassadors?”\n\nMy assistant, Jake, took a gulp and adjusted his glasses before answering. “The first is Sir Valen of Eagle Point, son of Sir Valer the Obelisk of Eagle Point. Sir Valen has the highest mission completions of any currently living knight as well as an undefeated streak of challenges. He hasn’t lost a fair fight to any man or beast. Sir Valen is, well, also really well known for losing his parents to drakes and swearing vengeance on all lizard kind. He went on a killing spree last summer and the public began to call him, the, uhm…”\n\n“...Lizard’s Bane.” I finished for him and added prodigy with anger issues to Valen’s section. “Continue.”\n\nJake nodded and licked his dry lips quickly. “The second is Mastersmith Grav of the Steelgrip clan. The Steelgrip’s are one of the more secluded dwarf clans, so not much is known about them. What we do know is that Mastersmith Grav was banished from his clan for hoarding smithing techniques instead of sharing them with the rest of the clan. Also, he has a notorious reputation for, well, raising his prices sky high to any non-dwarf person seeking his services.”\n\nGreat, a racist, greedy dwarf was just the thing this meeting needed. I scribbled a few choice words under Grav’s section and waved at Jake, “And the last one?”\n\n“Queen Ebony the Calamitous, Mother of the Eleven Cataclysms, Devourer of men.” My assistant was really starting to sweat now. His complexion was starting to shift from pale to sickly too. “She’s a black dragon, sir.”\n\nI felt my quill slip out of my fingers as a thundering headache exploded on the back of my head. \n\nBy the time my vision cleared enough for me to make sense of the world again, Jake was long gone. I stared up into my ceiling, the words ‘breathe’ etched deeply into the stone. “Why me? What have I done to deserve this fate? What sort of sick, twisted villain would ever gather these … these agents of chaos together? These depraved, gloryhounding, dangerous...”\n\n**\n\n“...esteemed ambassadors! It is my honor as Guildmaster to welcome each of you to Goldfish Lake, again. Let the records show that peace talks among the Eagle Knights, Grav Industries, and Ebony’s Brood will start once more.... now.” I lowered my arms and slowly took my seat. I could hear Jake and the rest of our team scribbling madly. Thanks to the enchantments on the parchment, every major city on the continent would know in real time what was said today.\n\nTo my left and right, Valen and Grav, respectively, looked like springs, all wound up and ready to launch themselves into whatever rants they’d prepared.\n\nHowever, it was Ebony, whose neck rose from the lake the table was adjacent to and whose snout towered over us despite lying on the grass, who spoke first. Although calling it speaking would do it no justice. More of a series of volcanic explosions, accompanied by sulfuric smells and ground-shaking waves. One of her children, a bipedal lizardman double our height, translated for her. “Mother states that she will charitably give the small meat bags the western half of the feeding grounds.”\n\nBefore I could remind everyone of the initial terms, Grav hopped onto the table and pointed a calloused finger straight at Ebony’s eye. “Your mad! The western half of the lake is rich in ore and mineral. I want that side.”\n\nThe lizardman moved, too quickly for me to see, until his snout was inches away from the old dwarf. “Do not speak to Mother like that!”\n\nGrav’s face reddened in anger, but Valen’s tone spoke first, “Get back monster or lose...”\n\n“...listen here, human…”\n\n“Mother!”\n\n“...I don’t need you butting into my battles.”\n\n“I’ll talk whenever it suits me, dwarf*...”\n\n“Allow this one to teach manners to the prey!”\n\n“...as for you dragon, keep a tighter leash on your spawn.” \n\nEbony began rumbling once again.\n\n“Peace be damned otherwise!”\n\nI buried my face into my hands, waiting for the lot’s fourth argument of the day to end.\n" ]	1
	[WP] You move to a new school and hear news of the popular kid, How cool, handsome, and nice he is, You meet him but he doesn’t even speak. The reason is unclear, But you are given a startling warning after the encounter	[ " The cold sharp December air was apparent in the early morning before school. Cars quickly dropped children off and sped away quicker. Old friends met and formed together in clusters, but me, I was alone. After all it was my first day if school what did you expect?\n\n I slip past a large cluster of what I view as jocks and make my way to the double glass door under an obtuse angled awning. Plastered on the front in bright red plaster/paint was “Oakridge High school” I see myself vaguely and try to fix my clump of black hair to sway to the right of my face. I straighten up my back and breath in deeply as the bell begins to ring and a soft but consistent pattering of feet on concrete comes closer behind me. I reach into the double doors and make my way to my homeroom.\n\n I walk in and immediately notice a group of people hovering around one other teen. They’ve angled their decks in a sort of circular formation almost as if they revolve around this person. A wiry old lady peeks up from her laptop and greets me with a slight sigh, A great boost of self assurance I know. “Everyone listen up, We have a new student today so dont give him too rough of a time, Would you like to introduce yourself”? She asks motioning for me to step forward against the white board.\n\n I reluctantly move to the front of the class as no one really pays me much regard as they are still focused on this child I have yet to see from their protective wall around him. “Hi, My names Nick and I just moved here from New Jersey, Nice to meet you g-“ I’m stopped abruptly by a harsh shushing from a stout blond girl at the very front of the circle. “Can’t you see he’s talking?” she says with an annoyed tone. I roll my eyes “Popular I’m guessing”. “Thats an understatement to say the least, Best looking guy in school with one of the highest gpa’s here and star of the track team, Yeah he’s just well known”. \n\n He says sarcastically as he eagerly continues listening to the story this “Star” was telling. When I go to sit down though the orchestra of laughter and giggling stops at the circle, Everyone with a surprised look on their faces watches as the “Star” of the show slowly gets out of his seat in harsh, difficult movements. He walks over to my desk dressed in a GAP zip up hoodie with Levi jeans and a pristine pair of converses. He stretches out his hand and a small portion of his hand is revealed through the hoodie sleeve as his face poked from under his hood.\n\n Standing before me was a perfect mannequin, Lily white with glossy perfectly proportioned features. I take a quick double take and grasp his hand back. I am instantly met with a searing coldness on his hand. A hand with no blemishes, Markings, Hair... or even skin. My mannequin description may have been to accurate. \n\n My eyes bulge with shock as I jerk my hand away quickly and greeted with a sharp “HEY, Dont disrespect Phillip like that you dick” the same stout blond haired girl shouts from across the class. I breath in deeply as the remnants of the circles members stare through me expectingly. I catch on quickly and I reach out for his hand once more. “Sorry...Phil, First day jitters I guess” I laugh nervously trying to play it off.\n\n Phillip cocks his head to his left side and slowly drifts his head back and forth, after a three second pause the room explodes with laughter and Phil is quickly brought back into the circle. I shakily walk over to my desk and plop down as I run my hands through my hair hyperventilating, grabbing my chest to make sure if my heart is even still beating. I feel a quiet tap on my shoulder and a spiky blond haired boy with fair skin and brown eyes looks at you seriously. \n\n“You’ve seen it so now do three things, Dont think about it, Dont mention it, And dont stare into his eyes, Do that and you wont end up like them”. He relaxes his gaze and puts a smile on his face. “By the way, We’re having tacos today” (1/?) " ]	1
	[WP] A teen brother and a teen sister, ones a superhero and the other is a supervillian respectively. Known for their fierce rivalry, their battles are chaotic though thankfully no one gets hurt until one day, one of their battles ended up killing their third younger kid brother.	[ "It was so unreal. He was just lying there. So serene. So...at peace. Like he was asleep and could wake up at any moment. Except he never would.\n\nWe bore his casket through the church to the carrier. Loaded it on the rails, slid him in. Closed the door, applauded him as the car left. Up until then, the funeral had been silent as.... as silent as Joey.\n\nNeither Fi nor I said a word. Uncle Mike wrote a short poem for Joey. He wasn't good at a lot of things, but touching hearts of people with his words was something he was very good at. I was spaced out, but judging from the fact even Fi's tough girl facade cracked as she sniffled and tightened her grip on my arm almost makes me glad I didn't get it all. \n\nDad drove us home. I can't imagine what he went through. Joey was his benjamin, like he was. They had this chemistry. They could finish eachothers thoughts, almost. He helped ease the loneliness he had when mom disappeared. I heard parents don't really have a favorite child. They love all of their kids. But Joey was more then just his son. Dad saw mom in him. And he clung to that. It kept him going. Now nothing is going to fill the hole they left behind. In him. In us. \n\nFi still clung to my arm in the back of the car. Her make-up was running down her cheeks. We didn't look at eachother. We couldn't. \n\nWhen we got home, Fi insisted she take a walk and that I come with her. Dad was alright with that. He needed some time alone. I made sure that he didn't have any guns around. I wouldn't be surprised if he offed, or tried offing himself if I didn't get the guns away from him. \n\nWe hadn't made it more than half a mile before Fi kicked off her silly shoes and sprinted away. I chased after her, but I couldn't keep up. Before long I focused on pushing the floor away, and I gently lifted off the floor. Before long, she got to our tree. She, Joey and I carved our name in it a couple years ago. We used to go here all the time in the summer, the five of us. Climbing all of it, running around it, making a treehouse in it. \n\nBy the time I caught up with Fi, she was punching it hard enough to break away a body sized chuck out of its trunk.\nI rushed over, landed and came up behind her.\n\n\"Fi, stop that!\"\n\nShe whipped around, her hair mess and her dress torn due the stretching of her inhuman sprinting, wearing and tearing. Her eyes were on fire, and it felt like she was trying burn a hole in me with them.\n\n\"This, this is your fault!\"\n\n\"My fault?! I'm not the one who crushed him with a car!\"\n\n\"You tossed that car at me! I tried to hit you! Why didn't you take it like a fucking man for once, you worthless shit! If you had stopped and let me do my thing for once, none of this would have happened!\"\n\n\"If you stopped hanging out with that psycho boyfriend of yours, you might realize that he's manipulating you! You wouldn't have started robbing gas stations in the first place!\"\n\n\"You don't get to involve Olav in this, you bitch!\" \n\nWith that she leapt at me. I held her in mid air, but ger struggling was making it hard to hold her. And she knew it. She broke free last time and left me in the dirt with several broken ribs and soiled pants.\n\nI tossed her to my side, where she skidded along the floor. She got her hands on a large branch and tossed it right at me. I reached out and snapped it in two, sending the pieces away before they could hit me. \n\n\"Cut it out-\"\n\nShe knocked the air out of me with a well timed charge. Pinning me against tree, she raised both of her fists behind her head. And held them there. Fresh tears flowed over her puffy cheeks. Her ragged, rapid breathing slowed down to the sniffeling. The fire left her eyes. She backed up and sat down in leaves that had been shaken out of the tree by our crash. \n\nMy back was on fire. Taking the brunt of her charges usually left me with bruises. But this time, I could brush it off a little easier. I got uo slowly and sat down next to her. And I cried.\n\nI don't know how long we sat there. Side by side, pouring our souls out for Joey. By the time I noticed the emotional exhaustion, the sun was going down. I tried getting back up, but my back was killing me. Without saying a word, she put my arm over her shoulder and hoisted me up.\n\n\"Dad's probably worried sick.\"\n\n\"We're gonna have to explain this to him some day.\"\n\n\"And step at a time.\"\n\nSurprising wisdowm. Never thought she had the pat-\n\n\"Seriously, take a step slowpoke. I don't want to carry you the whole way.\"\n\n", "\"Give it up, give it up you monster!\"\n\n\"N-N-...Never!\" she shouted.\n\nMatilda would stutter occasionally. It hurt seeing my sister's difficulties sometimes, but simultaneously I was glad I could make her happy whenever I'd visit. We weren't a normal family. Not dysfunctional, by any means—quite the opposite. We managed to get a lot done effectively as a family. We were a cohesive unit when we were together. We just weren't normal, is all. My sister being born with autism and suffering a stroke as an infant leaving her with a host of problems, among them, stuttering; me being blessed with an IQ my parents were shocked to believe and being accepted into MIT at age 12; and my little brother, Dash, just being all cute and what not. My parents were pretty rad, too. Dad a hardworking mechanic who loved to read and my mom a part-time nurse.\n\nCurrently in my third year of studies, I have to admit, I do find it pretty challenging. Which is why I loved coming home on my breaks. My sister, just a year my senior, the sweetheart she is, still utilized her imagination to its fullest extent. She liked being the villain. The Dark Medusa, she went by. She always had a fascination with the Versace logo. And me, Thunderforce Man. I loved electricity and played with a lot of Lego Mindstorms growing up, wonder if that led me down the path of electrical engineering. Anyways, we'd been engaged in war since we were both toddlers. She won a few battles, I won a few battles, but the war hasn't lost momentum one bit.\n\n\"I said give it up!\"\n\nShe had my little brother's teddy bear hostage, its arms tied up with a sock and her plastic sword up against its neck.\n\n\"No no no no no, nana nana boo boo!\"\n\nShe laughed as she pulled back her sword so she could throw her body into the force of the pending strike.\n\nDash had climbed atop the bookshelf to get a better view. He sat back and, unable to talk but able to keep up with the story surprisingly well, laughed and clapped along with his sister.\n\nRight at that moment, I dove in to save little Teddy. I grabbed Teddy and landed on the bed behind Matilda.\n\n\"I'll g-g-get you for this!\" she shouted with a slight lisp as she aimed her hand at me and shot a blast from her palms.\n\n\"Ahhh nooo!\" I was hit! I held onto Teddy and did a backwards jump on the bed from the force of the magical energy flowing from Matilda's hand.\n\nMatilda came in and struck me with her sword. Ouch, actually this time. I mean it was plastic but it still hurt.\n\n\"No no Matilda, remember we don't use the sword to hit somebody! You can use the pillow.\"\n\nShe started to cry.\n\n\"Oh Matilda, it's okay! It's okay, Matilda! You didn't hurt me!\"\n\n\"I am sorry big brother!\" She always called me big brother despite her being older and taller than I am. She just looked up to me is all.\n\n\"It's okay!\" I said to her, smiling. Her tears faded and she grabbed the pillow and threw it right at me.\n\n\"Ahh Dark Medusa, you've sent a severe blow my way!\" I screeched in my play voice again.\n\nShe started laughing again. It was amazing how quickly she'd go back and forth between her happy and sad states.\n\n\"I need a new h-h-hostage!\" she said as she looked around, seeing what else could fall to menace given how tight a grip I had on Teddy.\n\n\"D-D-Dash! I'm coming for you!\"\n\nShe darted for the bookshelf.\n\n\"NOO! MATILDA NO! FUC—\"\n\nIt was too late. She had gone, full of laughter, and had violently shook the bookshelf, tossing a few books off the shelves and hurling Dash head first into the corner of an end table.\n\nBlood was gushing out of his forehead as he lay motionless. Matilda stood there with a blank look on her face.\n\nEyes locked on her bleeding brother's body, \"what did I do?\" she asked innocently.", "Fingers tapped at a dark keyboard, the security footage of a storefront replaying on the monitor was the only source of light in the room.\n\n\"Agent Hugo, you're still here.\" Said a voice from the corner of the room. The speaker was hidden by the dark. \"That isn't unusual for you, but I feel I should be aware of your recent pursuits.\"\n\nA woman with cut short hair, and glasses turned to the corner of the room. \"Director, do you remember Lightshow and Glitterbelle?\"\n\nThe director scoffed. \"Yeah. The \"performance\" hero and villain pair. But that was a while ago, neither have really come up lately. Where are you going with this? We don't really care about the showpieces.\"\n\nAgent Hugo tapped away and brought up a Mugshot. A young woman with purple hair and vacant look to her eyes. \"Glitterbelle, SID - Unknown. PN - 2040321\" read the sign in her hands.\n\nHugo pushed her glasses up. \"She was locked up in min-sec, one fight between Lightshow and her led to the accidental death of a young boy. Court ruled her to be at fault. We never learned her secret ID, but some suspect she was the daughter of Major Laser.\"\n\n\"Heh. Laser would have been a rough parent, it makes sense his daughter would rebel. He was a brutal. But he vanished. I still am not seeing where you are going.\"\n\n\"It is complicated.\" Said Hugo. Standing away from the desk and stretching, then leaning over her chair and tapping at another key. \"I guess the first place would be to begin with the Major Laser. You're right, he vanished. But a body turned up a while ago. One that is the right height and build as Laser. Buried beneath a house, an injury corresponds with one of his battles--after some digging I ID'd him as James Arin.\"\n\n\"Arin.\" The director moved a little closer to the screen, only his suit and eyes could be seen in the dark. \"That is the name of the boy who was killed. Mikey Arin\"\n\n\"The body, was long dead--before the boy was killed. The boy was in the custody of his older brother for three years after their father dissapeared, Jim Arin. Who vanished after his brother's death hasn't popped up in any system. The third sibling, was Ela Arin. Who also vanished after her young brother's death, but matching Ela as Glitterbelle's secret ID was easy.\"\n\n\"I guess that explains that explains the look in Glitterbelle's eyes in her mugshot. You wouldn't be working so hard if something isn't a threat. What happened?\"\n\nHugo sat back down and played the security footage. \n\nA store clerk was standing at the register, counting money. When a man walked in a baseball cap and hoodie. It was sudden, a flash of light from the man went straight through the clerk. The camera was blinded, and then clerk fell over clutching his chest. \n\n\"Lightshow.\" Said the director.\n\nThe man on the screen turned around and for a brief moment, his face was revealed enough for the computer to match him to Jim Arin. He left the store calmly.\n\n\"Was it a hit?\" Said the director.\n\n\"No. The clerk, after some investigating was a member of the Killaj Group. A head of the child trafficking arm.\" \n\nThe Director sighed. \"So tragedy struck, and our performance hero turned violent vigilante.\"\n\n\"It isn't over there.\" Hugo hung her head and clasped her hands together. \"Glitterbelle escaped min-sec. Turns out she was a little more capable than the guards and Powers Security Division could handle.\"\n\n\"Really? The glitter-girl got through PSD?\"\n\n\"She was Major Laser's kid. Looks like he taught her a thing or two.\"\n\n\"Where is she now?\"\n\n\"The assigned team tracking her down, checked into all her associates at min-sec. A lot of very bad people. Even members of the Killaj group.\"\n\n\"So what is keeping you up so late? This is quite the tragedy, but these investigations belong to other teams.\"\n\nHugo looked up at the director. \"I don't think we should go after Glitterbelle.\"\n\n\"What makes you say that?\"\n\n\"She assosciated with the Killaj, Mirin, and Rusko groups. One week after her escape, all three orginizations were hit by an unknown hero. Some of those arrested--no casualties--had burns and \"shedding particles of light.\" around their eyes. Multiple fist contusion and broken bones. A few powerful enfrocers were apart of those arrested. Safe to say her brother's death changed her goals, and she is an effective asset.\"\n\nThe director nodded. \"I'll have the Glitterbelle search logged back. If she is effective, we'll get it covered up... But we can't have a murdering vigilante.\"\n\n\"Lightshow... Has been hard to track. As far as we know, he and Glitterbelle haven't had any contact. Yet they are hitting the same organizations... But there is another connection. The Killaj, Mirn, and Rusko groups did have an alliance momentarily. Right in the time frame of Mikey Arin's death, and on the day of his death, the fight between Lightshow and Glitterbelle began as a bank robbery. Not far from the bank, a robbery of Golmund Tech was reported. Most of the city police were tied up with the chaotic and fierce bank robbery, but investigation thought Mirin agents was responsible. Considering that, and Glitterbelle's easy association in min-sec leads me to believe she did the heist as a favor for the group.\"\n\n\"So the siblings are out for revenge.\"\n\n\"All in all. I don't think so. Glitterbelle, maybe have been found guilty. But evidence shows Lightshow was to blame for the kid's death, and possibly he was also the person that killed Major Laser. All three of them had at least one reported incident of suspected abuse. You were right. Laser was a tough parent. I think Glitterbelle is going after her brother. Undercover agents are saying \"The Bright Man.\" has been leaving a trail of bodies through the organization. They are after him, and I think Glitterbelle is looking for him too.\"\n\n\"To what end?\" \n\n\"I don't know. They have been through a lot. They are just kids. I don't know what their eventual confrontation will be like.\" Agent Hugo turned off the monitor. \"They might kill one another. Maybe she is going to protect him. We don't know yet...\"" ]	3
The woman knows he had his memory erased and plans to exact revenge on him.	[WP] In the far future, a man has killed a woman's entire family and is caught by the police shortly after. The authorities erase all of his memories and release him back into society where one day, he stumbles upon the woman whose family he had murdered.	[ "I'm on the train, sitting on one of the small seats near the front of the carriage - the one that can only fit two people - as I pretend to be asleep so I won't be forced out of some innate societal obligation to give up my seat to an elderly person or a woman with kids. \n\nEventually, I fall asleep. I drift in and out of sleep for several stops, no true destination in mind. My plan is to ride until the end, then get on another train and ride back down. \n\nAs the train gets nearer to its final stop, the carriage becomes less crowded. I peek and see that there's only two people in the entire carriage. No elderly or woman with kids. I sit up and lean back, staring out the opposite window at passing scenery. \n\nThe train reaches its last stop. I transfer over to another train and start my trip back down. I didn't have a watch with me, but it felt like 9-12. I looked out the window. The day was sunny, and just beginning to get warm. \n\nMore people start to get on, so I pretend to fall asleep again. I fall asleep. \n\nI wake up. My legs are cramped and I'm bored. I get up and hold the rail. People part, making a jagged but maneuverable path to the door. I bump and bustle my way through the space and stand at the door, waiting for it to open and let me out into the next spot. \n\nI don't know where I am and I'm okay with that. I look around like a tourist, but I carry myself with the confidence of city citizen. I pass small stores that tempt thieves by putting rows and rows of fruit outside. I pass big stores that look like you need to wear a suit and have an invitation to get inside. I pass medium stores that don't do much but blend in and hold up half of an apartment building. \n\nI pass by a small diner that has its menu posted on the window, with prices listed next to each item. There are no other diners with cheaper prices in a six block radius, so I eventually come back to this diner and go inside. \n\nI look around, head towards the first empty table I spot (there are many), and sit down. Its by the window. \n\nA waitress immediately makes her way over. She's smiling. She's holding a notepad in one hand, a pencil in the other. She's pretty - but I can't tell if she's legal age or not. \n\nI order just one cup of hot chocolate.\n\n\"Anything else?\" she asks, as if she's ready to put herself on the menu, too. I can't tell if she's genuinely interested, or if this is how she was generally taught to act with customers. \n\n\"No. Thanks.\"\n\nShe smiles, bites her lips, and twirls, sashaying away. \n\nI look out the window at the people passing by. You can tell the tourists by the cameras around their neck, or the way they stop every few feet to point at, or pose in front of, something. The regular city residents walk around them, maybe giving them a weird smile, as if to say, Really? You're excited about seeing that?\n\nA woman passing by stops in front of the window and considers the prices posted there like I had done earlier. As she's looking, our eyes meet through the glass. She smiles awkwardly. I don't smile back. She moves on. \n\nThe waitress comes back with my chocolate. \"Just let me know if you need anything else,\" she says, still playing the flirtatious con by making her voice low and husky. I refused. \n\nAs she strutted over to the next table, I found myself hoping that she knew what was she doing. A lot of guys would have taken her up on that offer, and wouldn't have backed down if she decided she didn't want to play the game anymore. \n\nI sipped on my hot chocolate and watched some men at another table check out her ass. One of them said something out loud. She blushed. They waved her over, and she skipped over. I turned my head and focused on better things outside. \n\nThere was another woman outside, staring up at the menu posted on the window. She looked a little lower, and our eyes. But instead of smiling awkwardly like the first woman, she stared. I frowned a little, and did the universal gesture of Okaaay? Weird by looking to my left. When I looked back, she was still there. Still staring. \n\nI started taking in her features, trying to see if I knew her from somewhere. Her blonde hair was slicked to her scalp and pulled back tightly into a crisp ponytail that hung over her left shoulder. Her face was magazine-model worthy. She was make-up less, and pale. Her body was hidden underneath a trench coat - but at the same time it wasn't. You could tell she had a good body even if you couldn't see it. \n\nBut I didn't know her. There was definitely no way I would've forgotten her. But she was still there, staring at me like we had, had an affair followed by a bad breakup. \n\nPeople streamed around her. Some of them glanced into the window at me, fascinated by what the beautiful woman on the sidewalk could be staring at with such intensity and focus. \n\nI decided to ignore her. I turned back to my chocolate and on things inside the space I was in. The men at the other table were holding the waitress captive. The man who had called her over now had one hand on the lower part of her back. Another waitress appeared to save her friend, but got dragged in too. The other customers looked uncomfortable with the scene, but what could they do? They were only women with kids and elderly. Ironically, the people I had been trying to avoid on the train. You couldn't escape them. \n\nBut my attention was more preoccupied with whether the woman outside was still there, and if she was still staring. I turned my head to see, and checked yes on both accounts. \n\nBut this time she was also crying. Not one of those cries that make you gasp for air as your lungs burst. It was a silent cry. An angry cry. Like when a bully corners you and keeps daring you to hit them, and you want to, but you're also too scared to. One of those cries that make your body shake uncontrollably, even as you ball your fists and grit your teeth. \n\nMy attention was diverted by the sound of one of the waitresses screaming, \"STOP!\" followed by the sound of a slap that echoed throughout the dinner. \n\nI looked. One of the men had apparently slipped his hand under one of the waitresses skirts. There was a raw pink imprint of a palm on his left cheek. His friends were laughing. The man wasn't. He stood up. And so did I.\n\nHe was across the room from me. When I stood, he looked over and frowned like he was confused. \n\n\"Uh, waitress.\" I held up my cup of chocolate. \"I need a refill.\"\n\nThe waitress who had done the slapping gratefully rushed over and whispered, \"Thank you,\" as she ran in the back. \n\nI sat back down. \n\nThe man who had gotten slapped came over. \"That your girl or something?\"\n\nI looked at him and shook my head. \n\n\"Then mind your business,\" he said. \n\n\"I don't know what you're talking about, sorry.\"\n\nI turned to look back out the window. The woman was gone.\n\nThe man was still standing there, so I turned back to him. \"Can I help you?\"\n\nIt was obvious that he initially had come over to start a fight. But I had this calm presence that unnerved people, and made them second-guess themselves. He wanted to leave, but he also didn't want to face his friends who were back at the table, watching. \n\n\"Look,\" he said, having thought about it and coming to a conclusion. \"Buy me and my buddies a drink, and I won't have to hurt ya.\"\n\n\"I like being hurt,\" I said, just to throw him off-guard a bit. \"But if you were really planning on hurting me, you would need your buddies to help.\"\n\nHis nostrils flared. \"Like hell, I would! I'll-\"\n\nI tuned him out and focused over his shoulder at the door. The woman from outside was in now. And she was walking over. And she was holding a gun.\n\nBut she was pointing at me. \n\n\n\n" ]	1
	[WP] Write a letter that works if sent to both Santa and Satan.	[ "Dear [Santa/Satan],\n\nWell, I did it – I kept all the promises I made to you! Johnny the bully got what he really needed and you should have seen the look on my teacher’s face. All the kids will be looking at me differently from next year.\n\nI’ll never tell mummy this, but I wish I had spent more time on our puppy. It was so small and fluffy, as I felt the life go out of him in my hands. She seems so sad now that the puppy is now gone, and I think I’ll keep how I feel about the baby to myself for now and tell her later.\n\nYou’ll be glad to know that I managed to help out our old neighbour with his computer. Now, I’ll be able to monitor him all the time. \n\nSo, what about that new toy I’ve been wanting?" ]	1

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