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[WP] In the future, social media knows how much you like something when you "like" it, and that's shown on the post next to your profile. One day, you see a surprisingly large like.
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"I have never been truly scared before, in my life. I learned this recently. I learned this on FaceSpace. \n\nIt’s been a rough couple of months anyway. I had lost my job, my relationship and my health and was now stuck in this dead-end town, far away from proper civilization, trying to earn enough money to move. There were no jobs for IT people left. There was just back-breaking, manual labor, hauling trees out of the forest, until my hands were bloody and half-frozen over, until every muscle in my body had filled with lead and said: No more. Not today. \n\nI retired to my computer like every night, slurping way-too-hot black tea and talking... *typing* to the people who knew me who were thousands of kilometers away, most of them on the other side of the ocean. The answers to my posts were getting fewer. I typed out the same old bitching about the stupid manager who had run the company into the ground and my newest number of complaints about how much my body hurt doing the labor my grandfather had done all of his life. It was then that I made a bad judgment call. I changed the settings.\n\nIt was this experimental setting that measured emotional response against a baseline, based on millions of factors like random cursor movement and the type and category of the post. It was supposed to measure how much people liked what you have written, telling apart genuine emotion, and the dutiful click under your absent friend’s one millionth post about his work.\n\nI turned it on. \n\nIt wasn’t that bad a decision at first. My mother apparently still loved me. My best friend from High School still missed me, especially when I cranked up the nostalgia on my late-night insomniac ramblings. I had expected to be affirmed in my self-pity, but... none of it really surprised me. Except one. \n\nEight weeks ago I had cut myself pretty badly and lost a lot of blood. Unable to work for three weeks. I had been delirious in what passed for a hospital in those parts and was sure I was going to die and written a frantic call for help on FaceSpace. The emotional responses were shocked and worried and frantic in their demand for updates, except one. I had one, big, ecstatic LIKE.\n\nIt was a fake profile. It had a goddamn stock photo as a profile picture and the name was John Smith. Nothing had really been filled out or posted, except the town. John Smith was a local. We had no friends in common, I had no memory of accepting his friend request and there had been no communication between the two of us except his joy about me being scared for my life.\n\nI messaged him.\n\n*Who are you?*\n\nAnd got no response. \n\nI went to work. I went on FaceSpace. I went to sleep. Only now I felt watched.\n\n*Do we know each other from work?* I messaged him. \n\nNo answer. \n\nFinally I just unfriended him. One sicko on the internet wasn’t worth all the anxiety I invested into it. It wasn’t until recently that I started thinking about him again. I received a Christmas Card in the mail. Just my name as an address in immaculate handwriting, no return address. It had a single snowflake in sparkly blue on white as a cover. There was a short message written on the inside.\n\n*If I could just see you bleed again, that would make me happy. -JS*\n\nI called the police. I bought a gun. I barricaded myself inside my apartment. Finally, after three days with little sleep I posted about it on FaceSpace, with a picture of the card, telling people how scared I was.\n\nAmong the responses was a single huge LIKE, from my dear old friend John Smith. Hadn’t I unfriended him? What was going on?\n\nI know the roads are blocked, but... could anybody just come and get me? Please?"
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I'm thinking Vietnam War inside your veins. Other approaches (e.g. medieval siege, WW 2 trench warfare, ...) welcome.
Bonus points for a biologically correct framework and/or exotic parasites.
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[WP] Your immune system is sentient. So are its attackers.
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"\"We can't tell who the enemy is, they all look the same! Hell, they look just like us! And there's too many reinforcements coming...sir...I don't think we can win this.\"\n\nThe younger cell was full of fight but their leader was grizzled, one of the last of the old guard. A different generation, when the fight was easier.\n\n\"Sir! Special Forces are entering the northern defensive line, looks like it might be Flu troops.\"\n\nThe General had few men left, few good men. They had been so infiltrated by now they were losing ground in every battle. Their reinforcements were too green, some just weren't fit for duty at all.\n\n\"Shut down the appetite, we need the reserves from the stomach and we need them now. Pull every available trooper from the muscles and we need to lose the northern defensive line, pull back to the central zones. The Flu troops will die out on their own, they can't survive in the host forever.\"\n\n\"Sir? Are you sure?\"\n\n\"Yes, pull them back. Pull them all back. Maybe we can win if we can hold the heart and lungs. Maybe.\"\n\n\"Sir.\"\n\n*****\n\n\"Is that really happening!?\" the little boy was too weak to sit on the edge of his bed but he had tried his best.\n\n\"Yeah!\" I try to be as excited as I can for him, \"your body is fighting it off just like that. But it needs help, that's what we're doing today. We need you to be strong, can you be strong for me?\"\n\nHe smiles at me weakly and lifts his arms, making his best bodybuilder face. I can see how much it takes out of him.\n\n\"Good man, you're gonna be just fine.\"\n\n\"Thanks,\" he says, as they wheel him to the treatment.\n\nAs he disappears around the corner I give my own best impression and he flashes a thumbs up.\n\nI choke out a sob once he's gone and try to hold it together.\n\n\"You don't have to keep lying to them,\" one of the others says quietly.\n\n\"Yeah,\" I say, closing the book, \"I do.\""
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i dunno how to do WPs im just high and thought dis shit up okay ty
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[WP] A group of researchers has found a way to match two people that will fall in love with a 100% success rate. You decide to take part in their study but as soon as you meet your perfect match both of you cannot believe that you should be together
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"\"I want my money back.\" I tried to sound forceful, but it wasn't really my strong suit. The man on the other side of the desk was only a few inches shorter than me, hair still clinging stubbornly to the sides of his head. His small glasses looked like they could fall off his nose at any moment. He started and stopped the sentence he was trying to say a few times.\n\n\"I'm sure that if you stay with the program, you'll be quite satisfied with the--\"\n\n\"I don't want to be rude, but I've been on good dates and bad dates. That was a bad date. There's no chance of us hitting it off. This consultation cost me $1500, and I need that back if this isn't going to work out.\" The man wrung his hands nervously.\n\n\"I'll make you a deal,\" he said, finally. \"Two more sessions. If you and she both agree that it's not going to happen after that, I'll be more than happy to issue you a full refund.\" I didn't relish the idea of two more sessions with that awful bore before I could recover my investment, but it seemed a small price to pay.\n\n\"Deal.\"\n\n***\n\nThe second session took place in the same large, white room as the first. There was a nondescript table in the middle of the room, and a chair on either side for Kendra and myself. The wall behind us was made of one-way glass behind which a team of researchers stood at the ready to observe the day's proceedings. Kendra entered from across the room. The door she had come through faded seamlessly into the wall behind her.\n\nShe was pretty, there was no denying that. Wavy black hair fell to her shoulders, and she carried herself with the pride of someone who knew their worth. That much, I liked. She sat at the table, making brief eye contact with me before looking around distractedly.\n\n\"Ryan,\" she said, by way of introduction, dipping her head briefly. I returned the greeting and sat at the table with her.\n\n\"I'm going to be honest with you, Kendra. I don't think this program is going to work for us. I'm only doing this session on the condition that after a third session, I get a full refund. I suggest you ask for the same deal.\" Kendra nodded, pondering her answer briefly before replying.\n\n\"You're right. It's not that you're not a good guy, it's just--\"\n\n\"No, I get it,\" I blurted out. I'd had experience being rejected by pretty women, but this felt a little better. At least it was mutual. \"We just don't have anything in common. I'm sure you're a perfectly nice woman, I just don't see it working between us.\"\n\nKendra warmed at this, seeming relieved that she wasn't going to have to convince me of what I already knew. We sat in silence for a few moments, and I checked my watch.\n\n\"So, uh... you wanna play, like... Tic-Tac-Toe or something?\" I chuckled as I said it.\n\n\"No, I don't really like games.\" Of course.\n\nJust then, the room darkened and I heard a projector spring to life. The back wall of the room became illuminated with a soundless scene that felt comforting, but not familiar. It was me, sitting on a park bench, playing on my phone. I hated parks. This wasn't a recording.\n\nA woman walked into frame, being led by a fluffy chihuahua on a leash. The man looked up at her, beaming in recognition. The woman had wavy black hair that fell to her shoulders, and I felt as though I didn't need to ask who it was.\n\nThe scene changed. Now we were on a ferry, and Kendra exclaimed wordlessly and pointed to the Statue of Liberty. There was a glittering ring on her finger. I pulled her closer, kissing her cheek.\n\nThe scene changed. My back was turned, and I was sitting at a desk, typing something out on my small laptop. Kendra moved into frame, holding something I couldn't see in her hands. She tapped me lightly on the shoulder, said something softly, and my face changed. I could see what she was holding now: a pregnancy test.\n\nThe scene changed. I was pulling up in a much nicer car than the one I had now outside an elementary school. A young girl with short black hair bounded toward my car, and my face lit up as I opened the door for her to get in.\n\nThe projector shut off, and the lights came back up in the room. I found myself holding Kendra's hand, though I couldn't say for how long. When I looked over to Kendra, she was crying the kind of tears that just fall out of your eyes, but her face was perfectly still. She seemed to notice what was happening, and blushed as she raised a hand to wipe her eyes.\n\n\"So,\" she said cheekily. \"See you next session?\" "
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[WP] You're starting to think that maybe the quest you hand out to the protagonist isn't a major step in his path to save the world, but just a low level side quest. And not a very good one.
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"Diary of Jorgen Cabbage-Farmer\n\n*Middas, 3rd of First Steed*\n\nWhen he showed up on my doorstep and said \"I'm looking for work\" I took him for a real go-getter. But it's been days since I last saw that Nord. My family is damn-near close to starving, I need those twelve cabbages! What could possibly be taking him so long? I mean, it's not like he had to go far; they're right there, in my garden! I would have done it myself by now, but the quest is still active! I can't intervene. \n\n*Turdas, 8th of First Steed*\n\nI've heard stories about a mysterious Nord, in Daedric armour nonetheless, slaying dragons near Whiterun. That couldn't be *our* Nord could it? I'm sure there are plenty of Nords, wearing Daedric armour around here... Oh who am I kidding? Of course it's him. How am I supposed to compete with dragons!? He's probably got Jarls lining up to use him for their dirty work now; high-paying dirty work at that. And here I am offering 10 coins a cabbage! By the Gods... Talos, please have mercy on my family!\n\n*Fredas, 19th of First Steed.*\n\nMy wife has left me. Taken the kids as well. She just didn't understand! It's not that I don't *want* to harvest the cabbages myself, I just can't! The quest is still active for Talos' sake! I think the last straw came when she tried to harvest them herself. She should have known I couldn't let her, it's not part of the code! How could we attract new people if word gets out that our quest is bugged! I was doing it for us! Perhaps I shouldn't have struck her.\n\n*Turdas, 1st of Rains Hand*\n\nHe... he came. I don't know what happened! I greeted him with the usual \"You look like you can handle a blade!\" and he completely freaked out! Just started yelling at me. I couldn't understand what he was saying, but all of a sudden I just went flying into my crop! I thought he was coming to help me up, but instead he just harvested all my cabbage! I thought he was supposed to be fighting for all Skyrim! Just seemed like a bit of an asshole to me. At least the quest updated..."
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[WP] Someone entered a bunch of occult books into an AI-generated text prediction program and the new magic spells in the AI written book actually work
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"Programme running:\n65% complete\n\nSteven sighed. It felt like he spent half is life waiting for loading bars. Hopefully it would be worth it though. There was a surprising amount of detailed magic systems on the internet if you looked for them. He had thrown a physics textbook into the list as well because why not? Putting them all into the same format so that they could be ‘easily’ passed into a recurrent neural network had taken a lot more work then expected but he had managed it, and now he just had to wait for the program to finish. \n\nProgramme running:\n87% complete\n\nThis would go a lot faster if he could afford a better GPU. At least this was forcing him to do the work he was meant to be working on. Maybe he should have just written his own book by hand, it would probably have been quicker.\n\nProgramme complete\nTime elapsed: 74 minutes\nSaved to /out/grimoir_3.json\n\n“Alright, let’s see what we’ve got from attempt three” Steven muttered to his screen. He opened the file and picked a random page.\n\n----\nChapter 5 - Spells to manipulate bosons\n\nThe first spell young apprentices should try when diving into the world of the subatomic is *lumo*. This will create a bust of photons at the specified location, of course relative positions (Covered in chapter 2) still apply here.\nThere are multiple required modifiers for this spell so before we cover that try the following, no wand or other focus is required.\n\n*umo supre hanner blanka deg*\n ----\n\nIt sounded more like a textbook than a spell book, but all the sentences made sense and the ‘spell’ looked ok. \n\"*lumo supre hanner blanka deg*\" steven carefully pronounced. He wondered if a custom script might improve the look when he spotted a reflection in the monitor that definitely wasn't there a minute ago. Feeling silly he looked around the small room. It didn't take long to spot the glowing sphere just above his head.\n\n“Um.”\n\nHe cautiously poked it. There was nothing there, nothing you could touch anyway. Just a glowing sphere of dim, white light.\n\"Okay then\" steven muttered. He sat starting at the impossible light source for a few minutes before turning back to the monitor.\n\n\"I guess I should try something else.\"\n\nHe flicked through the pages, not entirely sure what he was looking for.\n\"Examples? Could be interesting. Teleportation, got to be careful with that. Flight? Should try that later. Ah, duplication. Perfect.\"\nThe duplication spell was much longer than 'lumo', and had to spoken aloud in multiple parts but after following the instructions he apparently had an 'alias' for duplicating ‘small to medium sized’ objects.\n\nThere was only one problem, he needed a wand. There was a whole chapter on wands, describing what they could be made of, what dimensions they could have and what modification could be made. After skim reading the chapter he thought there might be a quick solution. He only need it to 'specify the vector for which to look for an object' according to the grimoire. He rummaged through draws until pulling out a pencil, pointed the makeshift wand at his empty mug and said \"*duosill arbed*\". Nothing happened.\n\n\"Might need to add feedback of some kind to that.\"\n\nHe pointed to an empty spot on the desk and said \"*duosill sargi.*\"\nThere were now two mugs on the desk.\n\n“This is going to be fun.” steve grinned."
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[WP] You are convinced that something sinister is going on at your local mall behind the scenes. Everything seems fine OK on first glance, but they can't fool you. One day you gather up your courage and decide to investigate.
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"    It’s a living, this demolition work. It kinda sucks. I’ve put at least three nails through my boots since starting, but it keeps us in the apartment and food on the table. The problem, you see, started last week. We were working on tearing down part of a mall; I remember going to this as a kid, and it’s totally depressing to see the disrepair it’s gone into. Nobody goes to malls anymore. \n \n    Frank knocked over a wall and water started pouring from a pipe in the building. Not only had the utilities company turned everything off, but there wasn’t even any piping on the blueprints. It shouldn’t have been there. I went to investigate, climbing through the hole in the wall. I got soaked, but I figured there had to be a shutoff inside the room. When I got in, I realized the room was not in the plans, and immediately knew why. I forgot about the pipe because I was engrossed with what lay in the middle of the room. It was a spaceship. It looked a lot like an A-Wing, but smoother, shinier, like all the armor was just sheet metal. I didn’t have a chance to investigate, because one of the mall reps showed up and sicced his goon on me, a wall of a man. \n \n    The official explanation that came through was that it was part of an older building that hadn’t been included in the malls plans when it had been built, and the ship was just one of those coin-operated rides they put outside grocery stores for kids. Sure. This thing was fifteen feet long and stood on landing gear, but whatever. \n \n    Thoughts of it consumed me. I made the mistake of letting it bug me until I went back. Somebody had put a pretty standard chain-link fence around the building, turned off the water, and covered the hole with a black tarp. I jumped the fence and slipped inside. The area was empty, but there were some machines there that weren’t before. I heard some talk getting louder and realized the rent-a-cops were getting closer. \n \n    I panicked and ran to the ship and jumped in. It was dusty everywhere except a clipboard sitting on the dash. When they came in, I tried to slide down, become less visible, when my knee pushed a lever on the left. They saw me and I don’t know what I thought would happen, but when a green light came on and started flashing, I pressed it. \n \n    I’ve been stuck in 1978 for nearly a week now. This isn’t the time travel story I thought I’d be stuck in. Dinosaurs or cavemen, not Middle America. I ended up in the same spot, in the same room, though there is less stuff in here. I can’t use credit cards and I didn’t bring a charger for my cell. It’s not so bad; it really brings back some distant memories, even though I haven’t been born yet. I really am just going to miss my family. I can’t figure out how to make the machine work again and I’m afraid of going back even further. \n \n    Please give this note to my family, in case I don’t make it. I’m enclosing my ID and address; I hope it makes it all the way back to 2032. I don’t know geography very well. Hopefully, whoever finds this note lives around here, in, or in a place that has good relations with the Confederated States of Wal-Mart, the motherland. I’d hate it to end up in the Amazon Protectorate.\n"
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[WP] A corporation has genetically modified a dinosaur to be a massive tool of destruction. Except all it wants to do is cuddle
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"\"You're fucking kidding right?\" the Boss asked. I took a moment before answering to see if that vein bulging from his temple would burst. Disappointed, I continued filling him in. \n\n\"I'm not. We call him Clifford.\"\n\n\"Clifford.\"\n\n\"Yeah, after the big red,\"\n\n\"I KNOW WHO FUCKING CLIFFORD IS!\" he shouted. I stole another glance at that vein, but it still hadn't burst. A silence ensued filled with the awkward combination of my indifference and his absolute rage. Finally the Boss turned and slapped the red button on the keyboard before storming off to the opening enclosure. I followed with mild interest. \n\n\"Where in damned hell is the bastard?\" he asked. I shrugged. \n\n\"He likes to sit in the shade of the trees when it gets real hot out like today.\" I smirked. \"Try whistling.\" The Boss snapped his head at me for a brief second before giving a sharp whistle. \n\nThe response was almost instantaneous. Large branches snapping. Foliage rustling in the wake of tree-trunk size legs. The gleaming of banana sized claws and teeth flashing between leaves. With an excited rumble, Clifford broke into the clearing of his enclosure. \n\nIt was an intimidating beast. Years and years of *expensive* genetic modification had resulted in a dark crimson creature that stood higher than any current military mech. Bulging muscles yielded strength and unexpected speed, along with a bite pressure strong enough to crush most mechs. With a few titanium implants, some bullet proof armor here and there, it would become a literal monster on the battlefield.\n\nIf only it didn't just want to cuddle. For some reason, this monstrosity had the mannerisms of a golden retriever.\n\nThe creature had stopped just a few meters from us. It cooed gently in its low rumbling voice towards me, but was unsure of the Boss. It had never seen the Boss before. \n\n\"What does it respond to?\" he asked. \n\n\"Clifford.\"\n\n\"Fuck.\" he muttered. \"Clifford!\" The crimson head snapped in his direction. \"Here!\" the Boss shouted, pointing to his feet. \n\nClifford's tongue lolled from his mouth and he lazily strolled over to us. As he approached, he lowered his nose to our height, ready to receive a snuggle. \n\nThe Boss's hand swung, creating an echoing slap across Clifford's nose. Clifford recoiled his head and withdrew his tongue into his toothy maw. \n\n\"Woah, hey!\" I started. The Boss raised his finger in my direction.\n\n\"Stop. I own this animal. I paid for its very creation. It just needs trained like a dog.\" He wrung his hand, shaking the pain away. \"No matter how big it is, it just needs to be shown who the alpha is. Clifford! Here!\"\n\nClifford remained rooted to the spot and looked to me helplessly. \n\n\"CLIFFORD!\" the Boss shouted again. Slowly, Clifford again lowered his head to our height, only to be slapped again. \n\n\"I'm going back to the control room. I don't need to be here for this.\" I said and walked off, listening to the soft mewling of the massive creature. \n\n---\nI watched from the window of the control room for almost three hours, watching the Boss beat that poor animal. It was ridiculous, watching an animal that weighed over 15,000 pounds more than him be beaten by the Boss. \n\nAfter nearly two hours of abuse, Clifford began simply trying to ignore the Boss, like a dog annoyed by a small toddler. The Boss was persistent though, following him around the edges of the enclosure, slapping at his legs while yelling. Eventually, Clifford walked into the center of the clearing and laid down. The Boss continued his assault on the poor animal. \n\nAs much as the Boss had a point, this was the first time in person he had seen Clifford. I had been there the day he hatched. I had monitored his growth and cuddled with him each time my shift ended. I knew we were creating a genetically-modified monster, but I couldn't help that he was born with the personality of a lap dog. \n\n\"Help!\" I was pulled harshly back to reality from my nostalgic dreams of baby dinosaurs to see the Boss on his ass, Clifford towering over him. I stood in disbelief. \n\n\"Open the door!\" the Boss shouted as he scrambled to his feet. Clifford snarled and used his nose to knock him back to the ground. My hand flew to the button but froze.\n\n\"Help me!\" he shouted. The Boss looked up and I saw his face. Quivering jaw, blanched cheeks and mouth agape. A line of drool dripped from Clifford's jaws onto his back. I put my hand back into my pocket.\n\nClifford roared. The Boss screamed, for a short while at least. I sat in a stunned silence, watching the scene of gore unfold before me. \n\n*I have to get Clifford out of here. They'll kill him once they discover what happened to the Boss. Or worse, he'll get turned into the very thing they made him to be. I can't let that happen to him.* Clifford raised his head towards the open door as I stepped into blinding sunlight. He softly cooed at me while blood and offal dripped from his teeth. \n\n\"God, this ain't gonna be easy.\""
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[WP] A company jokingly puts a clause in their TOS that says by clicking agree your soul will belog to them after death. Thousands unwittingly agree. Turns out the afterlife is real and the TOS are binding.
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"She comes to the gates in a haze. A young zookeeper with long brown hair who stayed late at work tonight to make sure her otters were all tucked in.\n\n\"What is this place? Where am I? How did I get here?\" She's confused and frightened, thinking the worst. Not a thought of death in her head, but the thought of being drugged and being raped. But if that were the case, why was she not tied up? Why was there a door? Why did the man standing in front of her look bored.\n\nHe looks up, \"Name please?\"\n\nThat's weird, she thinks. \"I'm Penelope Andrews.\" Is this a club? Did I have plans? How did I get here? \n\nHe searches through the list and confusion dawns on his face too. \"I have to call somebody,\" he says, pulling out a phone and slipping away. \"Please, Ms. Andrews, don't move.\" \n\nDon't worry.\n\nShe begins to pace, searching her mind for a recollection of the night, searching for how she wound up here. He wants her to stay but where will she go? \n\nA large man approaches her now with the smaller, bored gentleman in tow. He stops in front of her, a sweet smile cracks his face, \"Ms. Andrews, you must be so confused.\" His teeth are so white. \"There seems to have been a mix up and I would appreciate if you would come with me so we can sort all of this out.\"\n\nShe nods her head and he smiles again before turning and leading the way back from wherever he came. Struggling to keep pace with his stride, she makes a mental note to get the name of his dentist.\n\nHe leads her through a room with rows of desks and computers, an office of some kind, and into a large office with large windows and Big Ben looming in the distance. Which is weird because the last thing she remembers is being at the Portland Zoo.\n\n\"Please, sit,\" he says, as he takes his own seat behind the desk and pushes a tray of cookies towards her, \"Now, you may be wondering where you are?\"\n\nShe nods her head again, a half eaten cookie hanging from her lips.\n\n\"Well... you're in hell.\" He pauses to gauge a reaction but she doesn't give one, just continues chewing the cookie and looking nervous. \"The after life isn't some light and dark lore that's spoke of on earth. It's more of a grey area and I struggle to even call this place Hell.\" Still, nothing. \"When a person dies, they usually move into a place that is their perfect world complete with simulations of their closest friends and family, because everybody's perfect world is different. It's not so much about good and bad, it's more about individual happiness. Only true evil is punished. Do you understand?\"\n\nShe nods again, \"So why am I here?\"\n\nThis strange man, this large man, sits forward and begins again, \"Well, I own your soul, it seems. You see, I created a website some years ago, a big box store without the physicality. A place you can shop in the comfort of your own home and, in the deepest part of the terms of service, I hid in a fact that your soul belongs to me in order to use the website.\"\n\n\"If the afterlife is such a grey area and there's not so much do with good and bad,\" she's angry in her confusion now, \"Then why do you need souls?\"\n\nHe puts his hands together and motions his head side to side, looking for the perfect words, \"The big guy up top isn't exactly... how do I say this delicately... a nice guy. He's kind of a dick, actually. We need the souls in order to educate them on what is being done to the earth with so much belief put into the other guy. We need those souls to wage a war and topple the destructor of your world. The only ones who belong to our website that we don't take, who are immune, are people like you.\"\n\n\"Like me?\" What the hell is so special about me?\n\nSmiling, always with the smiling, \"Yes, people like you. Intrinsically good people. Though you're not always calm headed, you care. You give your time and your money and your effort to good. You work towards making the world a better place. You're a zookeeper, you help animals. Even on your vacations, you visit new zoos and wildlife centers and learn how you can aid in the recovery and rehabilitation of displaced and endangered animals. People like you get the perfect world and I am so sorry you ended up here.\"\n\nAs realization melts across her face, she asks, \"What happened to me?\"\n\nThe man across from her frowns, furrowed brow in sadness, \"Penelope, I'm so sorry, you slipped and hit your head.\""
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[WP] You're the last person to die, and afterwards you stand face-to-face with Creation. Grumpy and exhausted, it says, "It's your turn." before transporting you away to a young and empty Earth. You have some clay, a breath, a stick and a manual on how to Create. Good luck!
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"Day 0\n\r\n“It's your turn\". Pah, call it high-level delegation for all that's been done.\n\n \"You must complete your Work in seven days\"- On top of that, what am i supposed to do with breath, clay and a stick? This manual better be good.\n\r\n Day 1.\n\r\nThe manual left a lot to be explained, but it gave me a heads-up on how to do things. I managed to get some separation between ‘above’ and ‘below’ today, so I can work on my dirtball planet without my orientation going all out of whack. Less headaches, hopefully. Had some issues working in the dark, but sorted that issue out. Sun=done, and three days early compared to the last guy.\n\r\nDay 2.\n\r\nI tried creating water today with the breath. It went wrong a couple of times when I accidentally used sulphur instead of oxygen(man did that smell bad). When I got it right, the sun evaporated some of it and created the sky & some atmosphere. I honestly couldn’t find anything in the manual for that, so I just took it for granted (like I used to. Note: put security measures on atmosphere, so they can’t mess it up this time!)\r\n\r\nDay 3.\r\n\r\nI might have gone overkill on the water. Looks like the set from Waterworld up in here. Had to turn the Sun up a little bit to burn it off a little bit. The atmosphere got a little bit too thick, so I had to shave off a few layers. Ironic. I want to name the continents something fun, but I’ll leave that to the humans on day 6.\n\r\nWhen I had some land, I made some plants. So many failed attempts to get them to a state where I can leave them for a second. I had to make the cell outer walls thicker than I expected, so I used some additional clay on that. I don’t really remember that far back to my high school days, and all the books I had are all ash in the wind now apart from this manual.\n\r\nI wish I had paid a bit more attention in school. That would have made this process simpler, but I used a piece of the stick to keep the plants upright. It's not cheating if I’m God, right?\r\nI got them to a position where they'll reproduce by themselves. Good luck boys, it's on you now!\n\r\nDay 4.\n\r\nThe manual says create the Sun and stars today. I’ve already done one of those, but maybe a bit quickly. \r\nI took a look, and maaaaybe I should’ve paid attention to how I’d made it. Having something on a million-years timescale instead of a billion-years timescale was perhaps a bit short-sighted of me. I mean, its sorted now, so no damage. \r\nI created some stars- and messed with the colours a little! I like the blue ones most, and I excelled at making the dual-star systems! The night sky looks a lot different from Earth to what I remember, but that’s not such a bad thing, right?\n\r\nDay 5.\n\r\nI made life in the oceans today, all on target for completion. I used lots of clay and stick today, mainly on getting the fish to keep their shape while suspended in water. \n\r\nI started small with some little fish(then realise they needed to eat something- I made some plants really small and put them in the water) all the way up to whales. Balancing how they eat each other was really hard, but I got there in the end with some help from the manual.\r\n\r\nI tried making some birds too, but keep having weight issues compared to the fish. I think I'm going to have to make them lighter, but there's not a lot left I can take off the outside, they're already pretty streamlined. I will have to look inside the manual to see if I can find anything about it. \n\r\nDay 6.\n\r\nThis is the biggie. Make all animals on land. I took the reproductive traits from the birds and put them into all the animals I could find. The manual was really helpful in this bit. \r\nOnce I got into the swing of things, the whole balance between liver/kidneys/heart/lungs/stomach was quite simple, but needed some adjusting based on the animal’s size and diet.\r\n\nHumans and Dolphins-if I see another one of either one of them it'll be too soon. Creating a self-aware animal with higher intelligence makes me want to start again with a planet with no intelligent animals-but it's on the list to create. At least dolphins are restricted to the seas! I need a Control+F function to find them humans, it keeps walking away and trying to learn other things.\r\n\r\nGot it all done, just!\n\r\nDay 7. \r\n\r\nHonestly, the time limit wasn’t terrible. And I didn’t have any micro-manager, like my old job when I was a human. I know there was some bits that I never got around to (I'm looking at you, amphibians) but on the whole I reckon I did okay, it could've gone horribly wrong. The big guy up there put a lot of effort into his work, the one I lived in. \r\nGoing through all this, two questions come to my mind. \n\n1. Who was the guy before me? \n2. Was it him or someone before him that wrote the manual?\r\n\r\n"
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[WP] When you die, all the memories of the past iterations of your life come back to you. Then you pick one single detail to alter before reliving your life slightly differently.
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"This is not finished because it would be too long and I didn't use the dying part either. The very end is I wake up and I have never met him. \n\nWhat If?\nIt’s been almost eight months since I made that final call, the call that ended the four years of loving my best friend. The call I thought would end all the pain and tears, just to learn it was only the beginning. The bond we once had could only be explained with love, but what I can not explain is the monster that lurked within. Behind the bright smile and color changing eyes lived evil. Although I thought leaving would be the end it was really only the beginning. \nMy body is free of marks but my eyes are full of tears. Was leaving the right decision? I miss my best friend. I miss the long talks and endless adventures. I just wish I could go back to four-teen, well I wish I never met him. \nAs I’m lying in bed this is all I think of, but I don’t want to cry myself to sleep tonight. Dragging my brittle bones out of bed I walk outside and look to the sky. This was when I screamed out loud, “I wish I never met him!” Tears streaming down my face, I don’t want to do this anymore. Another night of crying myself to sleep, but worse was the nightmares. I dreamt I was living it all over again, it was back to my first day on the bus at the new school. The dream starts with the squeaky doors opening on the bus, I look up and its happening again, it's back to the first time I saw him. He walks up to me and asks if he can sit, I wake up screaming in a cold sweat. I say I quick prayer and force myself back to sleep. The next dreams starts with the first time I fell in love. We’re sitting at the lunch table and he looks up and smiles. Then it flashes clips of the relationship, the first time we hung out, the proposal, then comes the part of the first time I seen the monster. He picks the socks up and as they fly through the air I wake up in another cold sweat but where am I?\n",
"The first time I'd died and ended up at that empty void at the end of life with the chance to change one minor detail I'd chosen to save my life. I made the driver that hit me swerve his car. I died seven years later anyway in a work accident. It only took about a dozen cycles of changes to die of old age consistently. And let me tell you that was a shitty way to go so eventually I let the accident take me in every cycle after.\n\nEventually the novelty of the whole thing wore off. I died at 64 every cycle now, having decided that exit was the best one from my life. I was wealthy, I had a beautiful wife, two wonderful kids. Don't get me wrong it was great to watch that in replay, but I began to feel a bit purposeless.\n\nI spent a handful of cycles, maybe 1500 years in all, trying to find out if any others were like me. I tried to find those whose lives seemed to be different from cycle to cycle without any change that originated from me. All I found out was that the web of cause and effect is far too complicated to be sure about anyone.\n\nI spent another period of many millenium trying to figure out what the purpose of this could be. Was I part of some science experiment? Was I God? Was this what the afterlife was like for everyone? Was I just plain crazy? These searches proved as fruitless as the ones for others like myself and were ultimately abandoned. \n\nEventually the brief hours of true existence between the decades of replays wore away at my human nature. I began to truly think of myself as beyond it all, to almost view the whole thing as a game. And so I set myself a challenge. I was going to kill Mark. Mark was one of my coworkers at the company I would work at when I died. I decided to see how many cycles it would take for me to change things to the point where I would murder him.\n\nFour. I was so expert at manipulating the fine details now that it only took four changes for me to create a scenario where I was so furious at Mark for sleeping with my wife that I shot him.\n\nThe moment it happened I suddenly found myself back in the timeless void. Had I somehow died at the same moment I shot him? No...the memories replaying in my head weren't MINE. They were Mark's. And I instinctively knew I had the opportunity to change a single detail before reliving them again.",
"When I was little, it snowed a lot. Snowfall after snowfall, until bitter cold and stinging nostrils were the norm. Dark, gritty, snow would pile alongside the roads, tossed up by the plow, and sleds dug deep ruts into the sides of hills. I loved it, for the first few weeks. After that, I'd daydream about tropical winter homes, beachfront property, and a margarita.\n\nAlright, you caught me. The margarita didn't come along until I was older.\n\nAnyway, what'd I do, whenever I was growing particularly tired of the winter wonderland most kids pine for, was to lie in the snow. I'd lie there, decked out in the warmest gear I could find, I'd close my eyes, and pretend that it was summer. I'd feel the sun on my face, hear occasional birdcalls, and eventually, I'd fool myself into being warm. It wasn't summer, of course, but it was close enough.\n\nFor some reason, that's all I can think about right now, as I watch the lives before me. I'm numb as I watch what is arguably myself with a little sister one iteration, without the next. One time, I gained a dog, and he stuck around for all the rest. I saw \"my\" dad, leaving. Coming back. Leaving again. This time, he stays away. Judging by what I've seen, that's probably for the best. But a while later, my mom remarries. Next time, he was my biological father. Kudos to whichever of me worked that out.\n\nIt goes on, of course. I realize that each time, one detail, one thing changes. It doesn't take a genius to guess that I'd have to choose at one point. So I spent the next three lives or so thinking. What one regret should I erase? What one boon could I grant my childhood self?\n\nBut that question could wait. I was just now coming up to my life.\n\nIt wasn't living, but it was close enough."
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[WP] By chance you, a common TI guy, find out a way to access the world's command prompt.
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" uname -a\n\n Linux GlobalSim 2.5-435.13.4 #1 SMP Tue Dec 26 09:45:56 WORLD OS, HOME EDITION x86_64 GNU/Linux\n\n\"What the hell?\" I ask myself. The terminal displayed the words in electric green. White on black was my default setting for PuTTY, so the server I was connected to must be set up by someone who at least knows how to set their sessions up. \"WORLD OS\" wasn't a system I'd heard of before. *Must be a custom operating system. Let's see what I can do with it,* I thought to myself. *Let's see what users we've got.*\n\n cd /; ls -ltrash\n\n Error 'cd /': permission denied\n\n*dammit* I thought, *What user am I, then?*\n\n whoami\n\n You are my child.\n\nI sighed. Custom systems like this were usually set up by Script Kiddies: people who don't know anything about their own systems, and just run scripts they found online to make their stuff seem cooler. *If I can't find my own user, I'll just have to force myself in as root* I thought, annoyed. Some days it didn't seem like being a white hat hacker was worth the hassle. Sure, you got to try your hardest to hack people, but they got so upset when you managed to actually DO it. Everyone thinks their system is unhackable, despite there being no such thing. Sure, it might take a longer time, but there's always a slip up somewhere. A password written in a text document, a forgotten and unprotected router, or a user who likes to leave ssh privatekeys on his desktop. This time I was working for an anonymous client from an email, who only gave IP addresses and said \"Try - You can have whatever you want if you can\". I implemented every security measure possible, then began the work.\n\nTo be root on this system, I'd need to upload a password cracker. But to do that I'd need to know what folder I was currently in, to use the SCP tool.\n\n pwd\n\n 8956 Pine Hollow Road, Reading, Pennsylvania\n\nI blinked hard at the screen, not sure what I was seeing. That wasn't my location in the file system, that was my address. Where I was right now. There was no way the server could know that. I was spoofing my IP address, like always for this kind of job. and even if the server could find my IP, I was on a VPN that was supposed to be falsely showing Bangkok, Thailand as my geographic location. Without a doubt this should be impossible. Typing cautiously, I tried to see what was in my current directory.\n\n ls -ltrash\n\nThe screen filled with content entries, and all of them, I realized, were things I had in my house. It wasn't *everything* I eventually realized several minutes later, still going through the list. The list didn't have my roommate's things in it. A few entries that made me look twice were this:\n\n rw-rw-rw- 0.0Fl Redbull_01.can\n rw-rw-rw- 0.0Fl Redbull_02.can\n rw-rw-rw- 0.0Fl Redbull_03.can\n rw-rw-rw- 0.0Fl Redbull_04.can\n rwxrwxrwx 16.0Fl Redbull_05.can\n\n I looked at the 4 empty red bulls scattered on his desk. Then to the unopened one in front of me. Fingers almost shaking, I typed.\n\n ./Redbull_05.can\n\n\\*Phsst\\*\n\nI had stared at the can as it had opened, as if by magic. I lifted the can to my lips, and drank. The can was about half empty now. \n\n ls -ltrash Redbull_05.can\n\n rw-rw-rw- 7.2 FL Redbull_05.can \n\nThe 'file' size went down after drinking it. A thought struck me.\n\n rm -rf Redbull_0[1-4].can\n\nThe four empty cans vanished from my desk. \"What the actual fuck.\" I said out loud. This wasn't possible, and I must clearly be going insane. There was no way that the world, or God, or whatever, was a computer. And why the hell would the password for it have been 'Password1'?"
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[WP] You're the first human to land on Mars.As you climb over your first hill you see another lander just like yours but it looks like it's been there for years, you investigate and find a battered spacesuit just like the one you're wearing and with your name on the patch.
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"What? How can this be? I thought things were fishy when I saw the lander is the same model as mine. This spacesuit confirms it. Just like mine it's labeled Anderson. It dates maybe 5 or 6 years. Could this mean that Stew is alive? \n\nAs brothers Stew and I trained to be the first men sent to Mars. I never thought he had a chance. My little brother Stew, how I miss him. It's been six years since he disappeared. We were the Anderson duo. We were twins born 20 minutes apart. I always teased that I was oldest. Well now I am oldest, by six years.\n\nWait. The second suit is missing! Could he still be alive? What was that noise? As I turned around I felt a piece of metal slide into my throat. I see someone step back as my vision blurs. \"Stew?\" I ask with what may be my last words.\n\n\"No Drew. You're the new Stew... Me? I'm Drew.\"",
"My thick, once-white boots left vague footprints in the red planet's thick dusty soil as I trudged across the flat martian plain my lander had touched down on. \"Goddamn, we made it,\" I spoke into my mic, in awe of the breathtaking flat plain that lay ahead of me. No human being has ever stepped foot on this location. If technology has brought the impossible into the realm of reality in just a few short years, what else could humanity accomplish? \n\nAs a million thoughts whizzed through my head at once, I looked back at my spacecraft to get my bearings. The white, resilient structure had only been there a few seconds, and it was already becoming increasingly battered and red from the stormy winds of Mars. At once, my ears were bombarded by a staticky, unclear transmission from 34 million miles away in response to my somewhat vulgar statement.\n\n\"I assume you've touched down, Sta-\"\n\nThe attempt at reaching out to the first man on Mars was interrupted by shoddy communications and, as evidenced by my increasingly-red spacesuit, a jet-stream of red dust coursing through the unfamiliar planet's atmosphere. After analyzing my situation like a good astronaut should, I attempted to get a new message across, this time one of unease. \"Houston, the dust out here 's *really* picking up...\" I whispered into the microphone embedded into my clear helmet. The lack of feedback from my earpiece was harrowing rather than comforting, and I could feel myself lose control of my breathing and heartbeat as my visor slowly began to fill up with billions of rusty, grainy particles.\n\nStatic picked back up in my earpiece, but none of it was even barely intelligible, and I spun in my clunky outfit best I could as I tried to make out my landing craft through the dusty beast of a martian cloud. The static soon was either drowned out by the battering of sand and rocks on my helmet, along with any of my futile attempts to cry out for help from anyone. Suddenly, my stomach dropped with the stunning realization that I had lost all grip on direction and couldn't tell up from down. Through my panic, I followed NASA protocol and stand absolutely still, waiting for the further instruction from mission control that never came.\n\nThere I stood, on a completely foreign planet, the first of my kind, breathing shallowly for what seemed like an eternity. As familiar images of Matt Damon suffering through a martian dust storm began flashing through my head, the storm was thankfully over as suddenly and abruptly as it began. The downpour of dust dwindles down to nothing but a slight breeze and a few rocks and, as I regained my bearings on reality and shook off the piles of rusty sand that had formed on just about every stationary part of my spacesuit, I noticed the complete, deafening silence that plagued the world around me. Through it all, I felt a newfound peace in the sheer novelty of the situation I found myself in as I stared into a void of a flat, red landscape.\n\nNone of the constant cacophony found on Earth was here. I could barely hear myself breathe. No talking, no planes, no static from NASA trying to get through.\n\nNo static from NASA.\n\nNo NASA.\n\nI felt the true calm I felt just a few seconds ago being ripped from my body, and what replaced it was a bitter, cold panic. The rhythmic *thump-thump-thump* of my ever-rising heart-rate filled the peaceful silence, and I spun around, looking for my landing craft. *I need to get back to Earth* now. *This isn't protocol.*\n\nMy longing eyes fell on a battered, nearly-unrecognizable structure sticking out from the martian skyline. I dashed towards it in a manner only a spaceman on unfamiliar soil could run, my eyes set on an object I nearly didn't even recognize as mine. As I approached the craft, I slowed to a walk, then halted in utter disbelief. \n\n*There was no way my lander was this damaged from the dust storm.*\n\nThe landing craft was caked in red dirt that was packed into every nook and cranny and the panels that covered it were punched in and unusable. One of the metal legs used to keep the lander upright was cracked in half, making the entire structure lopsided. I walked up to the spot on the craft where my lander's code was printed and as I wiped away the hard sand that had layered on top of it, my horrifying suspicions were confirmed. \n\nThis is, or was, my lander.\n\nShaking, I made my way over to the front of the craft and and found a frightening scene. The ladder I had used just moments before to get off of *my* lander was thrown aside onto the ground, and the lander doors revealed a hollow fortress filled with dunes of sand. Even more perplexing was what lay before it. On the red soil was a vaguely humanoid figure lying face-down. The sands had nearly covered it completely, and it appeared to not have moved in... months. My brain had gone into autopilot, and I was too stunned by the sheer alien nature of it all.\n\nI unwillingly brought a shaking hand to dust off the figure. As I spun the *thing* around to face me, I immediately dropped it and let out a scream heard by nobody. What the fuck. The spacesuit was *exactly* like mine, right down to the small scratch I had gotten on the top of my helmet. Even more unnerving was the long-rotted skeleton sitting inside the suit, its flesh eroded away long after the glass in its helmet broke. After I regained the ability to go on investigating and silence once again filled the air, a single tear rolled down my face. What the *hell* was going on?! I took one final look at the image that was instantly burned into my skull. The patch on the arm of the ruined spacesuit read *Stanley Dawson.*\n\nMe.\n\nMy vision went blurry all at once, and I lost all control of my body as my legs turned to jelly. I collapsed, facing the sunken eyes of the skeleton, and as my vision turned black, I noticed an even-bigger cloud of dust looming over a martian hill. \n\nI awoke to a relatively clear sky, and silence once more. I fruitlessly attempted to talk to NASA but was greeted with static, much better than before. I recalled exactly what happened and whether or not the occurrences had been a dream, but my thoughts were interrupted by the realization that I was on top of a martian hill, with no lander, in any condition, to be seen for miles around me. The static suddenly ceased. An artificial woman's voice filled my earpiece.\n\nOxygen supply at critical level.\n ",
"Neural Interface Log Program 12233245...2.. re-initializing.\n\nMission Log 213-25:30, Rayford, CNSA Chengho\n\n200 days, 12 days in orbit... we made it. Lt.s' Sadler and Ramirez decided to cast lots to see who'd go first. I got the short straw. After an argument about whether that meant I won or lost. I reminded them that as the captain, it was my call. \n\nWe trained a long time for this, hundreds of hours in the neural simulators and scenarios', in a few short hours the human race will have taken a monumental step into the future. I don't know what my first worlds will be. \n\nDr. Lui doesn't like the radiation levels at the landing site, but still okayed it. She's as eager as the rest to do what we came to do. \n\nIt's weird to come all this way and still be missing home. Were the first humans out this far, and even though I trained the last twenty years for whats about to happen... I'm still not ready.\n\nredacted log --- confidential. - redirecting to earlier log entry Renframe123... Start File.\n\n---\n\nDr. Jiaying Lui - Medical Log 213 23:40\n\nDecided mission is a go this morning. Radiation spiked strangely in the last few hours, dissipated quickly, and all in all it's nothing to worry about now. The neural simulation was a very good run through. Let's see how the real thing pans out.\n\nConcurred with Mission AI. Strange little machine, too human at times. Poor thing worried that we'd encounter 'unspecified' anomalies. Same jitters it had leaving Atmo. Had decent lunch with Ramirez. Still refuses to admit he lied about sexual preference during application. Agreed that Chinese NSA questionnaire was too personal, but explained that mission dynamic's demanded deep profiles.\n\nMars' is large in digital observation window now. Reality of human's beyond our home planet about to be realized. This will be a crowning moment for China, and for humankind. It may not have been possible without our strict methods... But he sacrifice was worth it. Miss the children, but can't think about them right now. The mission comes first.\n\n---\n\nFrame Skip.... forward index 3.232...redacted log --- confidential. confidential- redirecting to later log entry Renframe123... Start File. Corruption detected.\n\nRamirez.... Personal Log 214 00:25\n\nLiu is stoked, so is the captain. I guess I should be too. I can't get over the feeling that something feels off. We cast lots, everyone's joking, getting excited. It's all happening in less then three hours... so I should be asleep. Sadler joked about losing her virginity at Space Camp. She keeps changing the details... last time it was 14 now it's 15... it's like she's forgetting her own origin story. Still you'd think a former marine would be tougher.\n \nI reviewed the landing area again. IF all goes well I don't think it'll be a problem landing. I practiced the simulator again, but still won't be like the real thing. I miss Lee. I need to write before I fall asleep.\n\n00023400440--2--4---4 if I'd feel like this.. the reply was-34--24--52t34\n\nGuess it's just minute jitters. Tomorrow we become like Neil Armstrong except this time were a year from help. Gotta go. Wierd the interference is getting stronger though, just like in the simulations.\n\n---\n\nAudio/Visual Log Entry Encrypted.... Cypher program initiated...compiling lost characters...\nworking....\n...\n\nworking....\n...\n\nRe-assemble complete...13% error detected.\n\nAudio Log 215 10:41 ... Sadler Comm\n\n\"It's not possible.\"\n\n\"Calm down...\"\n\n\"The hell!? You calm down... what the hell is that!?\"\n\n\"It's... it's us... but we're supposed to-\"\n\n\"Lui, you need to explain right the 3325524-ow!!\"\n\n\"Sadler put the gun down!\"\n\n\"I asked you a question!\"\n\n\"Sadler... damn it. I'm in command here... I said put it down!\"\n\n\"She's lying captain can't you see it... she knew something was weird...\"\n\n\"I suspected... I didn't know!\"\n\n\"They knew didn't they, that we were never going to make it?\"\n\n\"This is really 5642622- answer her Lui!\"\n\n\"Lt. Sadler is correct. We failed already. This is all-\"\n\n44566375344..Log corruption detected.... attempt to reinitialize.... secondary failure... stack overflow. Memory Failure.... \n\n\"It can't be fake... it's not possible... got to send a transmission back.\"\n\n\"It's too late...\"\n\n\"No it isn't, we're still-\"\n\n\"We we're dead before we even left the atmosphere!\"\n\nLong pause detected... no audio from source...\n\n\"The radiation signature from the blast is the same I picked up. There's no way to do that, it was identical, I ignored it because it was impossible I didn't want to believe. The other lander, a perfect copy? It's the neural simulator simulating a couple of hundred years. They've either given up, and kept us on a loop out of pity-\"\n\n\"No... it can't be.\"\n\n\"-Or they don't even know were in here...\"\n\n\"...we're so freakin' screwed. Oh God! We're dead.... were 325253 dead!\"\n\nSomeone out there must see us, we can't just be-....\n\n\"On a shelf... in the data archives.\"\n\n\"There's no where to send a signal.\"\n\n\"We've got to try. \n\n\"We've probably already tried. According to tag on the readings... Dr Lui has read the same data at least.... one hundred millions tries. \n\n\"So we loop... back... and try again.\"\n\n\"But we're not real captain... were just copies, simulations of the neural patterns of the original astronauts. Were just shadows... on a screen. Even if they knew we were conscious... what could they do?\"\n\n\"I'm not a simulation. I'm not.\"\n\nAudio overload... Sadler audio cut... transfer to Rayford.\n\n\"So what is this... some sort of simulated limbo? What are we just going to repeat this loop until some data string on a shelf just cut- 32r35y4646545\n\nSystem failure... data compilation loss... full fragmentation event eminent. \n...\n..\n.....\n.\n......\n.\n\n----\n\nFinal Log Entry... time stamp unknown <insert ref frame>\n\nI don't know if you can read this Houston. But we've done it. Reached Mars... \n\nI know we're just fragments... maybe just compilations of the people who died. They could have made it... I want history to know that. \n\nWe made it...\n\nWe could have made it...23er4t34524\n\nWe 566 53413433311\n\nRayford out.\n\nSystem Failure... input failure. File Transfer Incomplete. Restarting Neural Interface Log Program 12233245...3",
"When my lander materialized on Mars, I was greeted by cheers from my comms. We had sent probes before, but mine was first manned spacecraft to be sent through NASA’s faster-than-light teleporter. When I took my first tentative steps outside on the red soil, there was another wave of applause from Houston. The technology worked. Humanity could now send itself to the stars with ease, communicate across any distance in an instant. Putting a man on Mars was just the beginning. I grinned in spite of myself.\n\nAnd then I saw the body.\n\nTwo legs and the lower half of a torso were sticking out of a dune just ahead of me. The corpse was wearing a white NASA spacesuit, identical to mine. I pulled it out, sweeping red dirt off its nameplate. There was a burnt hole on it, like someone had shot a laser clean through.\n\n*Major John Kendall.* My name.\n\nThe face in the spacesuit was rotting, but there was no mistaking its features. The sandy blonde hair. The grey eyes. It was me. Beneath the body, I could see the outline of a lander identical to mine, buried deeper beneath the red dust.\n\nThere was commotion from mission control. “*Fuck. He saw one.*“ Then another voice. “*He can hear you! Shut it off!*”\n\nThe comms went silent. Despite all my training, I began to hyperventilate.\n\nA post-it note had been stuck to the man’s neck. I pulled off his helmet, leaning close. The message was in my handwriting.\n\n*Houston is lying.* And then: *Run.*\n\nMy radio flickered back to life. “*Major Kendall, you know the protocol for any potentially hostile situation. Return to your ship and wait for us to assess the situation.*”\n\nI didn’t move a muscle, resisting a wave of nausea. Not in a million years could I have trained for a situation like this.\n\n“*Major Kendall, return to your ship immediately!*” The voice’s tone was desperate.\n\nI ran away from the ship, as fast as my cumbersome suit could carry me. \n\nMission Control panicked. “*He’s off loop! Wipe! Wipe! Start it over!*” And then, in a more quiet tone. “*I’m sorry, Major.*”\n\nThe air crackled with electricity ahead of me, the telltale signs of teleportation, and a drone the size of a helicopter materialized in front of me. Its design looked centuries ahead of any technology NASA had. And all of its weapons were pointed at me.\n\nBefore it could fire, it exploded in a massive fireball. A figure wearing a helmet stood behind it, carrying a futuristic gun. Before I could speak, it held up a hand. “I know you have a lot of questions, and I’ll answer all of them, but if you want to survive the next hour, I need you to shut the fuck up and do exactly as I tell you.”\n\nI managed to stutter out my first words since I had stepped onto the planet. “H - How can I trust you?”\n\nThe figure pulled off his helmet, revealing a old man’s face, complete with a scraggly grey beard. For some reason, his skin didn’t rupture from the pressure. “You’re not on Mars. You’re in a research facility orbiting Alpha Centurai. Your real mission ended a century ago.” There was something eerily familiar about both the man’s voice and face.\n\n“When you think about it, Major, a teleporter is just a long-range copy machine. If you have the record of someone who’s been deconstructed, you can make any number of replicas. Even a hundred years after the fact.”\n\nThe blood drained out of my face. “John Kendall?” I said.\n\nThe old man nodded, and offered a hand to me. “John Kendall.” With his other hand, he shot his rifle directly upwards, and the landscape flickered like a broken screen. The sun and sky disappeared, replaced by a dark metal dome only a few hundred meters across. Behind the man was a sizzling hole in the structure.\n\nMy entire mission had been a simulation.\n\nI grabbed the hand of my older self, and fled into the real world."
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[WP] Aliens finally land on Earth but quickly take back off again leaving something behind
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"Somewhere, in an insignificant field of corn, outside an insignificant town, near an unassuming little blue house with a white door, the autumn sun bathes the earth in warm, dry heat. The windows of the house catch the sun and glow bright, while a dust covered porch swing on the front deck lazily drifts back and forth with the gentle breeze. In one of the windows on the second floor of the house, there sits next to a bed a new, fuzzy, brown teddy bear. The bear wears a stitched smile beneath big, friendly, blue eyes.\n\n Leading away from the house, into the insignificant, unremarkable cornfield, is a thin trail of broken leaves and bent cornstalks. The path into the abyss of plants that sway and dance with the wind marks where a young boy has recently run through them in the direction of the center of the field of corn. The path is small, almost unnoticeable except for the way it breaks apart the smooth fabric of the field as a whole, like a crack in a sheet of otherwise intact ice. \n\nThe path made by the young boy leads into the field, winding this way and that, but always staying on the same rough heading. The path leads to a clearing in the center of the field, one that was not there less than an hour ago. The clearing is a large, perfectly round circle with a diameter of about a hundred feet. Every corn stalk inside the circle lays flat on the ground, not broken, but bent at the base, leaning over and laid against the earth. At the edge of the circle, where the path meats the clearing, the boy who made the path stands, staring blankly into the sky, his mouth open and his hands hanging loose at his sides. \n\nThe imagination of a child knows no bounds, and this young boy is certainly no different. His dusty jeans, filthy shirt and tennis shoes with holes in the sides give testament to many hot summer afternoons spent playing in the field. His imagination is all he needs to envision worlds of fantasy and project them onto the blank slate of the corn field, letting him experience the thrill of being a soldier in the jungle like his older brother. His mind can make running through the cornfield seem like an illusion of speed as the individual stalks blaze by in a blur, letting him become a famous flyer above Europe during the war. As intense and real as his imagination can make this fantasies seem, none of them have ever been able to come close to competing with the event he just witnessed in the middle of an insignificant cornfield. \n\nAs the boy stares into the sky, a breathless pale blue stares back at him, not a cloud in sight, his eyes fail to blink. He stares, blank and wide eyed, his mind a fireworks show of senses and thoughts trying to come to terms with what he once saw, but now sees no longer. His gaze begins to fall, and the horizon comes into view. The change in image stimulates his senses, coaxes him slowly back into the real world. What he just saw doesn’t belong here, not in the real world, it was something that belongs in his father’s cornfield, with the jungle wars and fighter pilots. It doesn’t belong here, in this circle in the middle of the field, actually being real. His eyes drop to the center of the circle, where a worn, tattered, well loved teddy bear sits, the only object to break the smooth uniformity of the bent corn stalks. The bear is old, worn from years of spending every night in the boy’s arms, being his companion in adventures outside, soaking up his dreams at night like a sponge of thought and imagination. It was gone, lost forever, but now, they brought it back. "
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[WP] Humans were seeded here from an ancient alien species. Now the aliens arrived, not to make us slaves, but to make the first person they meet the emperor of the universe. The first human they meet is George the high school custodian.
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"*Short Story*\n\n\"George.. it is our honor to select at random the first human we come upon to receive control of the path of all. The universe needs a leader that is humble and willing to do what it takes in any situation to conquer the darkness.. But of course we must have your acceptance of such an arduous task. We can imagine your exci...\"\n\n\"Hey... Yeah... I'm not feeling all that. Can you just like.. pick someone else? I got a lot going on and I don't think I'm gonna have time for all that..\"\n\n\"We must accept your decision without question as you George the human.. are one of the wise and almighty.\"\nAnd with that they flew off not more than a mile away to another human of worth. \n\n\"Huh.. well damn now I'm late to work. How am I going to explain this one. I was late yesterday too... *Grrr*\"\n\n\n"
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[WP] you stand with alone with only the AI in your head to accompany you as you face oblivion/ end of the universe.
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"\"So what now, Ben?\"\n\nI looked over to the spacious chair next to me, only to realize my habits were taking over again. I closed my eyes and rested my head on the back of my chair, sighing of course.\n\n\"Well, we watch.\"\n\n\"... That's it?\"\n\n\"That's it.\"\n\nThe AI that I spoke to was someone I had come to hold dearly in my heart, even with her dying, I could not face what I will soon alone. So I had done every single little quibbit she had about her, and programmed an AI. Naturally, I find myself looking over to her chair from time to time.\n\nThe AI made a sighing sound, \"I suppose it can't be helped with... Do you have any regret?\"\n\n\"No.\"\n\n\"Do you wish the end wasn't coming?\"\n\n\"No.\"\n\nDo you wish to die?\"\n\n\"... No.\"\n\n\"...\"\n\nSilence pervaded the chamber, the flickering on the screen before us signaled the end, starting with the implosion at the very center.\n\n\"It's begun.\" \n\nI watched the flares of solid white expand slowly at first before coming out at a progressively faster rate. The end of the universe. And I had front row seats at the farthest reach of it that I could get to before bending backwards.\n\nI patted the chair beside me, \"We had some good times, we really did.\"\n\n\"... I thought you said you had no regrets?\"\n\nI chuckled slightly at the remark, \"Well, I guess I do have one.\"\n\n\"And what's that?\"\n\nA small tear fell out of my eye, \n\n\"You.\"\n\nIn the seconds after I spoke that, the sheer black of space disintegrated and inverted itself into white. Before I knew it, the Universe had obliterated. I, had been obliterated.\n\n.\n\n.\n\n.\n\nFunny ending (this was what I thought of first, but ended up wanting something more serious, but I'll leave it here:)\n....\n\n\"And what's that?\"\n\nA tear fell out of my eye.\n\n\"I didn't get out of the friendzone with you.\"\n"
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[WP] For years you’ve felt like you had no control of your life, no identity, and no real purpose. One day, you discover that it’s because you’re a supporting character in a novel. You have one chance to write the author a letter explaining why you should be the main character.
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"\"Thank you for coming Mr. Smith. I've read your CV, quite interesting, but then again, I should know.\", he said, chuckling at his clever remark.\n\n*Prick.*\n\n\"So tell me, why are you here today?\"\n\n\"Well, you see Mr. Rothwood...\", *don't stumble*. \"I've been around for a long time, and I have quite a bit of experience. I feel like my skills would be better suited for a higher position.\"\n\n\"Oh! And what position would that be?\", he inquired with a raised eyebrow.\n\n\"I was thinking protagonist.\"\n\n\"Protagonist?!\", he laughed. \"Oh you are funny Mr. Smith! Again, I should know\", he regained his composure and his eyes gazed me with a smirk. \"You are aware that the position is already filled by Jack, correct?\"\n\n\"Yes, I am aware. I was wondering if it would be possible to open a new one?\", my hands fiddled with the tip of my red tie.\n\n\"A new one?\", his face changed to a mixture of perplexity and amusement. \"Why fix what isn't broken? Jack is doing a terrific job. Sales have never been higher! One protagonist is more than enough\", he raised his right hand, pointing it to the office door.\n\n\"Is there any other main position available?\"\n\n\"Another position?\", he pondered, resting his right hand on his chin. The office chair tilted back slightly, as he frowned his brow. \"There's a new book being worked on, and we are still lacking an antagonist.\"\n\n\"I'll do it!\", I blurted out.\n\nRothwood regarded me gravelly for a few seconds.\n\n\"You do realise what this means, right?\", he leaned forward. All the amusement was gone, only a gloomy expression staring back at me. \"Jack has to win, he always does. This is how we keep this operation going.\" \n\n\"I am aware of the consequences, just give me a chance.\"\n\nOnce again, Rothwood leaned back on the chair in silence for a few minutes, his eyes fixed in an imaginary point past my head.\n\n\"Very well.\", he said, standing up from his desk. I followed his lead\n\n\"It was a pleasure working with you Mr. Smith.\", we shook hands, and I left.\n\nMy heart was still pounding after I left the office. What did I get myself into? Throw it all away for a few pages in the spotlight?\n\nSupporting characters don't die, they just fade. At least I will be able to have a dignifying human ending."
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[WP] "What's that?" the child asks, eyes wide in wonder. "Snow," you lie.
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"There had been a lot of things my daughter hadn't gotten to experience living where, and more importantly, when, we do. One of them was snow. The climate here just didn't allow for it. The winters were always more like early fall in comparison to my experiences as a child. There was never need for a coat, honestly. However, her mother would always make her wear a jacket all the same. I think it was more of a way to give her the experience of changing seasons like we had.\n\nOf course, the summers weren't much better for her. She didn't get to experience the long, warm days of playing outdoors with her friends like I had. Instead, her summers were filled with unbearable heat and violent storms. But as children always do, she found joy everywhere. She stood in awe when we'd get our occasional rain showers. She was absolutely blissful when we'd rush out, trying to collect what water we could. She never saw it as the critical means of survival that I did. Instead, she saw a game. She saw a special break from the day to day. \n\nWhen they shut down the schools, I think I was more heartbroken than she was. They made the announcement only a week before she would have started kindergarten. Just another childhood experience ripped from her that she'd never know was missing. We set up a little \"school\" area in the house for her. She may have gotten the traditional experience, but I tried to provide her with as much of it as possible.\n\nI've tried to protect her from what's going on as best as I can. I really have. I don't allow her to listen to the radio anymore. Luckily television isn't a thing any longer, so at least she can't see what's happening out there. When I was finally able to make out what was being said in the broadcast this morning I had to fight back tears. It's not fair that it ends this way. I know we'll suffer. Radiation poisoning will be a terrible way to go. We weren't one of the lucky ones. They were gone the instant it happened. But then, I looked at things the way she does. This would be another unexpected adventure, maybe our last one. We should make the most of it. That's why when the ashes started to blow our way and she asked \"What's that?”, my answer came easily. “Snow\". This world has stolen so much from her, but this is one experience I will make sure she gets to have.\n",
"It had already been ten weeks since all the major news outlets started reporting it, but it seemed like just a few days ago. Knowing the end is coming has a nasty way of speeding up time. It should have allowed people the opportunity to say sorry, to cherish the special moments, and above all else --to love each other. That's not what happened though.\n\nFrom the second they revealed what was coming, it all fell apart. It wasn't like a thread slowly unraveling. That would have made things *almost* bearable. No, the response was much more like a garage door slamming down from a faulty spring. One second everyone was going about their day and the next...pure chaos. \n\nThey didn't tell us how it would happen, they only gave little hints here and there. I don't think it was even an hour until I heard the first gun shots go off. I figured it was some kind of dispute or robbery, but what I saw was much much worse. Mr. Elkton was lying dead on his front lawn, a big pool of blood spilled out all over his pristine Kentucky Bluegrass. The children, they looked like porcelain dolls. Their faces were already ghost white, frozen in fear. They just sat there motionless up against the side of the house with their heads hanging limp. He took out his whole family in four quick shots. Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang. The last one coincided with a final thump down into the ground.\n\nThe worst part about the whole scene was the aftermath. Before the cops could even get there, I saw Ned Jenkins go sprinting into the house. He ran back out seconds later with two cases of bottled water and took off for his house down the street. By the time the police arrived, there was already another five or six people rooting through everything. Not a single one of them bothered to check on the family. There were no prayers being said or signs of the cross being made, it was sheer survival and nothing else.\n\nOnce people realized there wouldn't be any more Sundays watching football or summers at the country club, they turned real quick. We all have that survivor switch hidden inside of us, and for most it's not very deep. Hell, I didn't even make it a full three days before I took out our neighbors for their food and water. \n\nIt's been exactly sixty three days since we boarded up the house, \nand even with our massive supply of bottled water and canned goods, we're running low now. I know what that white stuff is that's falling down and I'm honestly relieved. \n\nI'll take just about anything over watching my kids starve to death, but who knows if this will be much better. I can only hope it will be painless. Last night, I saw them circling over the neighborhood, and watched people getting sucked up out of their homes one by one. They came shooting out of their roofs with enough force to send debris flying five or six houses away.\n\nYeah, I heard them screaming on the way up, but once the fire hit them there was nothing but silence. Sweet peaceful silence that fell to the ground like snow. \n\n",
"\" How did it get here?\" Melissa asked confused \" Doesn't it melt when it's warm?\"\n\nI could feel how my stomach started to cramp and how my back started to sweat. It's hard lying to a child, especially your own. She looked at me with her big beautiful hazel eyes- they were curious but yet confused.\n\n\" It's a special type of snow- just for grown-ups. You kids play with the snow outside and you have it all to yourself while us adults only get a tiny amount of snow to play with.\" \n\nThere was no way for me to get out if this situation. I knew she would ask more and more questions. I could feel a stab to my heart everytime she looked at me and blinked. \n\n\" Oh.. Okay.. \" Melissa said and turned around. She walked up the stairs and closed her door. She must have felt that something was wrong. Melissa is a smart kid. One day she will grow up and she will know what type of snow mommy was playing with. I have failed her. I just hope that one day she will forgive me. \n\nI rolled up the one dollar bill, bent my head over the table and sucked the evil white powder into my nose. It hurt - but felt good at the same time. The pain helped me forget the pain I felt in my heart. I laid myself down on the couch and after a few minutes I could hear small footsteps coming down the stairs. \n\nShit. Melissa. \n\nI sat back up and in front of me stood Melissa fully dressed with her pink winter jacked grandma gave her for Christmas and with her matching gloves. She reminded me of an angel- she was my angel, my angel sent from above. Melissa walked towards me with my jacket in one hand and my shoes in the other. She put them down in front of me, grabbed my hand and looked me in the eyes. \n\n\" Mom, let's go out and play in the snow. I know you said it's just for us children but I felt bad about you not having a lot of snow to play with. Snow is for everyone\" \n\nThat was the last day I played with adult snow and the day I became a mother. \n\n\n\n"
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[WP] You are Whether Man. Your power makes it so every detail of everything you do or someone tries to do to you, no matter how inane, has exactly a 50% chance of succeeding, and a 50% chance of failing.
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"The odd man stood on the corner of the intersection. He huffed as he dropped his large suitcase, and promptly sat on it. \n\n\"What a busy crowd,\" he thought. He pulled out a neon pink kerchief to wipe his brow. He watched all sorts of people swarm around him, stopping momentarily to stare, although most attempted a sly passing glance before quickly averting their eyes. \"Such strange people too.\" Mohawks, tattoos, and piercings all appeared and disappeared into the masses. If they happened to be judged by society in the slightest, none of them had any restraint in judgement toward the man. Dressed in a neon green suit with silver polka dots, he was quite the spectacle even in the city where people usually dissolved into uniformity no matter how unique they were. Even his suitcase was covered in high reflective material--silver with yellow trimming. His position was nestled between a streetlight and a trashcan. People occasionally threw coffee cups and wrappers into them, and the odd man dodged any that missed the target. A half full coffee cup splattered beneath at his feet, splashing on to his gold shoes and exposed socks. \n\n\"Ugh!\" he exclaimed. \"The people here!\" \n\nHe reached into his back pocket and pulled out a small disc. He pressed down in the center of it. Bright lights on the sides of the disc illuminated a powder blue, and everywhere else a pure white. The man then began to speak to the disc, staring at the space directly above it as though he could see someone projected above it, though to everyone else there was nothing.\n\n\"You have to get me out of here,\" he said. \"It's wrong, all wrong.\" \n\nHe paused then, watching the space above intently. He shook his head vehemently, his pudgy face boiling red and purple almost in frustration.\n\n\"No!\" he shouted. \"That is not an answer!\" He stood with that proclamation, and with that outburst everyone else almost stood still for a second, watching him, but then hurried on, rushing away from the insanity on the street corner. The man pulled in his lips and sighed.\n\n\"I'm sorry, but you saw it behind me. What they look like, what they do. It's almost impossible now, and it will be for a very very long time. I don't see how--\" His tensed face now relaxed as he settled back down onto his suitcase. \n\n\"Yes, yes, that seems proper. I will arrive momentarily.\" He pressed the center of the disc once again with his thumb, and the lights faded until it was now just a dull looking disc, and something he once gain put into his pocket. \n\n\"Excuse me, mister\" he heard behind him. He turned around to see a nervous boy grasping the shoulder straps of his backpack as though he believed they were going to slip off. \"This fell out of your pocket.\" \n\nThe boy held in front of him a large faceless coin. The odd man sighed and stood. He lifted his suitcase off the ground. The odd man reached out for a second, as if to take the coin from the boy's hand, but looked up around himself. People stared at him and the boy with fear in their eyes, and suddenly the odd man understood. \n\n\"Keep it,\" he said. \"Any choice you make, anything you do, in the end really, it's just a flip of a coin.\" He winked. The boy blinked and suddenly the man vanished, though, not into the crowd. "
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[WP] You are a satanist who tried to sell his soul to satan but wrote santa instead and now you are stuck with all the other elves in santa's lair
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"\"A worldwide utopia? That's what I sold my soul for? Seriously? It's like I've never read a contract, or seen a movie with a genie in it before in my entire life. *Everlasting* worldwide utopia. *Everlasting*.\", I thought to myself as I picked up the last pile of Blitzen's feces. \"Give me pitchforks. Give me the River Styxx, God damnit!\". Exasperated, I flung the bag of reindeer feces against the snow-laden earth, causing it to burst open and pepper the ground with nuggets of Blitzen \"magic\".\n\nIt all went wrong. I wanted to change the world, and have my cake eaten too. I just wanted everyone to live in peace and harmony. Which they did...for like a week. Then everyone started getting greedy again, and killing people. Be careful what you wish for, I suppose.\n\nAnd you're probably wondering if I messed up the saying, \"wanting my cake, and eating it too\". No, no. I wanted my cake eaten -- teased with my cake, and have it taken away from me; what better way to spend eternity as a masochists than to spend it in Hell? It looked like a win-win situation; make the world a better place, and spend eternity getting off on pain and torment. But here I am, picking up reindeer shit because fucking auto-correct.\n\n\"Dear Santa\". SANTA!? ... That's all it took, and my dreams were ruined. I sold my soul for world-peace, and then got assassinated by the Revolution...ONE FUCKING WEEK LATER! I die and I'm whisked away into the tortuous depths of...the north pole!? ...Picking up reindeer shit!? Ok, ok. To be fair, there are better jobs available here that I could have worked harder to get. But not nearly as many as there were in the past. Toy assembler? Yeah, right; it's all automated these days. All of the good jobs left are already held by the real elves. Us contracted \"elves\" have to take what we can get.\n\n\"I never wanted *any* of this. I just wanted to live out my masochist fantasies in Hell for eternity, and selfishly \"sacrafice\" myself for the greater good of humanity\", I thought to myself. I dropped to my knees and wept in helplessness. Suddenly, above in the sky, I heard the crack of a whip. I look up to see nine brown dots hauling a sleigh filled with delight. It was traveling far faster than I could ever imagine. Within seconds, the nine brown dots turned into what were clearly reindeer. And the delight carried in the sleigh was nothing more than a cheery fat-man with gifts -- Santa. The reindeer and sleigh came to an abrupt halt on the ground directly in front of me. \n\nSanta perused through one of his bags for a few moments, until his face lit up as if he found some magical treasure. He pulled out his treasure. It was a gift. With my name on it. He stepped out of the sleigh, and handed the gift to me with with the most magical smile on his face. Delighted to be recognized by my boss, I quickly rip off the wrapping paper! It's a white, flimsy box, with a lid that opens up from front to back. \"It's a cake!\", I thought. As I lifted the lid in delight, that's exactly what I found inside. A cake. Decorated with the words, \"You've never once misspelled Satan in your life. Did you really think you'd get what you wanted in Hell?\". \n",
"\"HO HO HO!\"\n\nWilliam was quickly shaken from his slumber. He sat up in bed, peering into the darkness. \"Who's there? I'm warning you, I'm armed!\"\n\n\"HO HO HO! Now William, we both know that you aren't telling the truth. Do you want to be on the naughty list?\"\n\nWilliam stared, mulling his options. Could it really be the Dark Lord, come to answer his call? \"What if I say yes?\"\n\n\"Well then, William, I guess I'll just have to give you coal.\" The voice was coming from outside his door, and he could hear the handle turning. William got to his feet. The door opened, and a large man came into view. He was covered head to toe in soot, as though he had just come through the chimney. William could still make out his face, ruddy from the cold. His cheeks matched his suit as far as he could tell, except for the white trim at the edges.\n\nThe man guffawed again at the sight of William. \"I'm here for the letter you wrote to me, pledging your service to me. I'm pretty full up on elves at the workshop, but I could always use an extra hand, HO HO HO!\" He clomped closer to the young man, his boot steps echoing through the building.\n\nIn a flash, it hit William, and he tried to shake his head and back up, but he was frozen in fear. All he could do was squeak softly, \"Not you...not you,\" but the man seemed not to hear him as he put a hand on his shoulder. The room filled with light, enveloping both of them. William felt as though his forehead was dragging him through the air.\n\nWhen the light faded, the room they had been in was gone. In its place was a sprawling hall, filled with people. All of them were about chest high to William, a height which included their pointed caps. From his vantage point, William could see that the hall seemed to stretch on forever.\n\n\"Everyone,\" Santa cleared his throat, and the elves turned to look at him. \"This is William, and he will be helping us out. If you could all make him feel at home, that would be fantastic. Jingle, could you show William the ropes?\"\n\nOne of the \"taller\" elves nodded and grabbed William by the arm. \"Of course, sir. Come with me, and we'll get you all ready to work.\"\n\nWilliam had many questions, and was not ready to work, or do much of anything. He tried to pull his hand away, but Jingle had his hand in a tighter grip than he could have expected, and William soon found himself being dragged along.\n\nJingle led William into a room off to the side, which was filled with outfits. William openly gagged at the sight of the green and red everywhere. Jingle cast a side-eye at him. \"I did the same thing when I got here too. You don't have a choice, so pick a color.\"\n\nWilliam spun towards him. \"When you got here? What does that mean? Why am I even here? None of this makes any sense!\"\n\n\"It will soon. I was in your situation once. Name's Jerry, by the way. Jingle was just the name they gave me, You'll probably get something like Wreath or Winter.\"\n\nWilliam shook his head. \"Look, Jingle, Jerry, whoever the heck you are, I don't care! I should be with Satan. You know, Prince of Darkness, fallen angel? Why did it get me up here?\"\n\nThe elf looked at him forlornly. \"Buddy, you didn't send it to the wrong person. You asked for Satan, you got him.\"\n\nWilliam looked at the elf, then at the man in red passing by the room, then back at the elf. \"Come on, stop messing around. That's not Satan, that's Santa Claus.\"\n\nThe elf laughed, throwing back his head. \"Oh man, are you dumb. I was like that when I got here too. Thought you made a typo on the letter, right?\"\n\n\"Right.\"\n\n\"WRONG! What do you think happens to the elves when they get old? NOTHING! We don't get old, 'cause we don't have souls. We sold them to the red guy!\" Jerry was whisper-screaming, muffling himself so that no one else could hear them.\n\n\"But what about the gifts? Why would Satan give out gifts?\"\n\nJerry/Jingle smirked. \"Oh, that whole day is the most evil thing he's ever created. Think about it, kids want all the popular things, right? So he gives them to the kids so they want more, getting some greed and pride in there, plus envy for the ones who don't get what they want while others do. Parents have to deal with the kids screaming the whole time, eventually getting pissed off, there's wrath. Then you get a huge dinner, there's gluttony, and sloth right afterwards while everyone just lays about doing nothing but playing with their new stuff. He's still working on the lust part, but I think he's on the right track with the mistletoe.\"\n\nWilliam's head was spinning. \"So what, you're telling me that when you sell your soul to the devil, you end up in the North Pole?\"\n\n\"HO HO HO!\" The laugh came from right behind William, causing him to scream and jump in fright. Santa smirked, and for a second William caught an evil gleam in his eye. Santa grabbed William's collar and dragged him to the window, throwing it open. Beyond the glass, William could see flames licking across the landscape, the light searing across the hall.\n\nSatan leaned in close. \"You're right where you wanted to be. Ho. Ho. Ho...\""
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[WP]You've been summoned to a fantastic other world as part of an ancient prophesy. But instead of go along with it, you'd rather get revenge on the people who did the summoning for kidnapping you.
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"Kyle cleared his throat. \"Mr. Overlord Man, Sir, Your Honor, whatever...I am an attorney on Planet Earth, and stand before you representing myself pro se. In addition, I am subject to Earth's personal jurisdiction. Under Connecticut law, you are criminally liable for kidnapping. My person has been forcibly seized and confined against my will and without any lawful authority.\"\n\nThe Overlord chuckled, making the tentacles on his head jiggle horribly. \"How cute, Mr. Walter. We are keenly aware you that you are a first-year law student at Yale and that your grades are, how do I say...unenviable. In any case, you are far from being a licensed attorney as you claim. You also fail to prove the elements of your kidnapping claim, as what authority could be more lawful than that of the Ancient Oracle's?\"\n\nDamn, this guy was good. \"Well, under the 14th Amendment of the United States Constitution, I am being denied due process because this hearing couldn't be more unfair.\"\n\n\"Choice of law disputes concerning astral summoning are governed by the law of the place of summoning. That means the law of my Realm applies, Mr. Walter. And your little Constitution means nothing to me. \n Don't be too hard on yourself, Kyle, I saw your score on the Jurisdiction final. Oh, how you distressed Professor McMillin!\"\n\nKyle huffed. \"Can anybody at least explain why I'm here?\"\n\nThe Overlord smiled, and suddenly the grand chamber was lit a glorious shade of amber. Golden flower petals rained down from the ceiling, and tentacled beings clad in long bronze cloaks stepped out of the wings. \n\nThe Overlord stood up and stretched out his arm-like appendages. \"Kyle, the Oracle has predicted that only one being in the Universe--an earthling born on the same day you were--who can satisfy my needs and desires.\"\n\nKyle's stomach churned. \"Which means?\"\n\n\"You are to be my beloved wife for the remainder of eternity.\"\n\n\"NOOOOOOOO!\"",
"The room was illuminated by a strand of light that came in from a crack in the boarded up window, carrying with it the scents and sound of the market outside. It was a small room with scrolls on the floor, on the bed, it was everywhere. It was a dirty room, ill-cared for, clothes lay about everywhere, mechanical apparatuses shared the space with clothes and scroll. The central piece of the room was a large ornate table, looking out of place. A man was slumped over this table. His thin hands dangling to the side, lifeless. He wore a long white robe whose ends were torn, nibbled at by rats and roaches. Sid lifted the man's hand, checking for a pulse. He let the hand fall, a content smile coming on his face. He was finally dead. Sid moved to the man's bed, pushing the scrolls that were lying on top, and lay on it, drifting into a dreamless sleep. \n\nHe woke up to the sound of a raven crying next to him. Sid opened his eyes to see the black eyes of his spirit animal staring at him. \n\n\"Yeah, I know Ka, I know. I overslept.\" \n\nThe light coming in through the crack had changed into a blue hue. Sid heaved himself off of the bed, dusting himself off. Ka flapped his wings and flew to the table, perching on top of the other hand of the dead man, which was covering something, a piece of paper. Sid stretched himself, getting the fatigue out of his muscles. He walked towards the dead man, a red mist swirling around his hand. Ka cocked his head at Sid.\n\n\"Yeah, I know. But, what if he reanimates, You can never be too careful these days.\" \n\nSid pulled the man back. The dead man had his eyes open in shock, he had not expected that Sid would be able to trace him. There was a line of drool that had made its way down his cheek. His old, wrinkled skin had started to decay, Sid could smell the decay. The yellow pendant that hung from his looked like any cheap metal, the imbibed magic in it having drained away with the passing away of its master. Sid slowly extended his hand to lift it up from the corpse of the dead man. He jumped back in surprise when he got hit by a jolt of electricity. The old man had worked in some fail-safes after all, he was impressed at the man who once used to be his mentor. \n\nKa lifted off from where he was perched and landed on Sid's shoulders. \n\n\"You should be careful, you know.\" He spoke through their shared connection, something like a two-way walkie-talkie. It was not usually clear. but there were times, like now, when they could speak, like he was a living, speaking human being. \n\n\"Yeah, I did not really expect him to have it warded.\"\n\n\"For a man who has the potential to change this world. You are pretty stupid.\" Saying so Ka went silent. Sid knew that he was channeling his energy mist. A low hum started to come out from him. Sid saw a dark form take shape in front of him, as tall as the chair in which the dead man was seated. The form, which was transparent, reached out for the pendant and started to jiggle it up, growing in height as needed. 12 years in this new world and Sid was still taken aback at the casual way with physical dimensions and the established laws of his universe were broken down. The black form removed the yellow pendant from the neck of the dead man and laid it on the table in front of Sid before dissipating into the mist. \n\nKa slowly stirred back awake and tapped Sid on his shoulder, \n\n\"Yeah yeah, I will do it.\" \n\nSid closed his eyes. As the darkness took him he started Feeling the vibrations around him. He could sense the yellow pendant, the way it vibrated and buzzed with the energy that was held within it. Sid started to hum, trying to match the vibration of the pendant with sound. He reduced a bit and then tuned it up a little and there he was, he was humming alongside the yellow band of the pendant. It was now a test of his will, he had to hold on, hold on until the pendant drained the energy that had been transferred to it by the dead man. The moment the pendant gave away came suddenly, it was like having his foot washed away by the force of water as he stood in a fast-moving stream of water. Sid opened his eyes, looking at the yellow pendant, laying now on the table, with no evidence of the fight that it had put up, the only indication of their struggle was the sweat beads around Sid's forehead. This had been a difficult and tricky enchantment. \n\n'I guess that is to be expected from a high-level equipment', he thought to himself. \n\nSid took the pendant and stuffed it into his backpack, the only thing that had survived his years in this world. He moved towards the parchment that the old man had been writing.\n\n \"It looks like he was almost done writing\". He told no one in particular, though he thought that Ka had nodded in agreement. The last effort had drained him completely, it would be a while before he could talk again, sometimes Sid felt lonely during those down times, the fact of him being the only one of his kind in this world coming to press on him like a Dred-bird. Sid felt the parchment and recognized it for what it was, it had been one of the old man's inventions, his claim to fame. It was like the mobile network back home. The old man would write into it and the people who were connected into the same spectrum could read it in real time. A smile crept on his face as he read what the old man had been writing before he killed him. \n\n-How many are dead- The old man had scrawled. His neat, legible writing script bringing bad memories. \n\n-I don't know. But, Rad and Zed are dead. I do not know if he killed them or not- Fel had written, scribbling across. \n\n-I hope that the guards get him. I did not think he would get this strong, this fast- Sid felt a sense of pride as he read his old tutor, Mak, in magic praising him. \n\n-So that leaves just the seven of us. Iok and Lok are both at their village, they have given up on us. I hope he hasn't reached them yet.- The old man had written. \n\n-I don't think he will kill them. Remember, Jan was from their village. I think he might spare them.- Mak, the vile fox was losing his touch. Though the memory of Jan did make him want to spare her two uncles. But, no, he will kill them as well. \n\n- Oh no, I think he is here...- \n\n-Are you there?- Mak had written. \n\n-Please tell me that was a false alarm.- Fel's hand script was almost illegible, his fear carrying forward onto the pages. \n\nThe writings ended there. Sid reached for the pen. The pen in this world was a transparent, black and orange, long, slender rock that tapered towards the end. He scratched the parchment, the end of the rock reacting with the particulates in the mist and the particulates on the parchment paper, producing a colored dye that stained the paper as words. \n\n-Hey guys, It's me Sid. I took care of old San. I am coming for you next. Please don't kill yourself before then.-\n\nSid opened the door that led to this room that now housed the corpse of the one man who had loved him in this world, he was the closest thing he had to a father. Sid took one last look at the room, the cow-webs, the scrolls, the machines of magic, and the corpse of his dead teacher. His heart constricted as the memories of the days that he spent under his tutelage came rushing back. He remembered the San's warm smile and his wisdom that made him respected in the courts around the world. Sid wiped the tear was making its way down his chin and left out the way he had entered, leaving the door open. The bloodlust in him was awake again, he wanted to make Fel and Mak suffer, to make them understand pain, the way he had every day for the five years he had trained under them, every day begging them to let him go back to his family, go back to Earth. But now, he will make them beg, not for life but for death.",
"\"And so, lades and gentlemen, we now turn to fate. We, the custodians of the world and all of the good within it must now consign ourselves to the greatest shame a guardian can face: we must wait.\"\n\nCardamon, Wizard of Wizards, Chairman Supreme of the Order of Everlasting Fire, finished his hushed speech to the Chamber to a resounding, albeit muted, round of applause. Every wizard and witch, mage and magician, alchemist and alkahest (yes, there was a difference) were professing their aplomb with clapped hands, nodded head, or pounded staff. With less than a dozen of them however, their enthusiasm was little more than a fleeting echo in the once mighty assembly hall of the Order. In decades past the Order's membership had dwindled to near obscurity, due in no small part to the dwindling common support of magic in the Great Kingdoms, in the ultimate irony manipulated from the shadows by Molrag, the Dread Shadowbinder. Pogroms, burnings, and witch hunts were on the decline, but only because new magic users were refusing to unveil their abilities in the open out of fear for their lives and the lives of their loved ones.\n\nAs the wizened wizard reclaimed his seat, the magical spotlight recognizing his authority to speak shifted to another of their number: Hecuba Heartfyre, a beauty cloaked in red with eyes like the sun. In truth, Hecuba knew years beyond measure and had been among the Order's original founders, an honor even Cardamon could not claim. \n\n\"Our Chairman Supreme is wise, again proving why he alone is worthy of the burden placed upon him by the Lords of Order,\" spoke she, the tips of her fingers pressing into the great stone table around which they sat. \"All of our efforts thus far in combating the agendas of Molrag have ended in failure. Turning to prophesy may seem desperate, I know. Molrag, gods forbid he become aware, would likely tout this as a sign of the Order being on its last legs.\"\n\n\"Maybe so,\" interrupted Bartholomew of the Black Beard, stroking his legendary goatee. In the long forgotten days where an overflow of members was actually an issue faced by the Order, he would have been drowned out by the magical forces moderating the debate. In the near empty room however, he could be heard loud and clear. \"I am curious to know though: how were you able to complete the ritual needed to enact the prophesy? To summon the Promised One from another plane?\"\n\n\"At...great cost, was the quest completed.\" Cardamon bowed his head, his old heart growing wearier. \"You will likely have noticed that two of our number are not present. Demeaon of Oldwood and Skyhammer perished in the attempt. But, my friends, all is not lost, for he-\"\n\n\"Is right here, you old bastard!\"\n\nThe magical spotlight hovering over Hecuba fluttered out like a candle in the wind and illuminated instead the threshold of the great door at the far end of the chamber. There stood a young man, more like a child in the eyes of the league of old sages in attendance. His tunic, tattered and worn, bore colorful sigils none of them had ever seen in any tome or scroll, and his breeches looked to be of a rough blue fabric. And he was livid.\n\n\"The Chosen One!\" Ludwiga, a plump old witch with hair like old straw, fell to her knees in deference. The young man sneered as he stomped towards the table.\n\n\"Oh, get up. Whatever you want, you ain't gonna get it by bowing. Those potato farmers tried that, and in the end that dragon still French-fried their land.\"\n\nCardamon blinked rapidly, flabbergasted by all that was happening, so soon and so fast. \"Great Hero...I-I did not expect you would find your way to our citadel so quickly!\"\n\n\"And why not?\" Flippantly, he waved his right arm as if to say hello. On the underside of his forearm were glowing runes, ones that Cardamon actually did recognize as the language of the Elders. \"Cryptic instructions for my entire damn quest were magically tattooed on my arm. In *gold*!\"\n\n\"It takes years for ones eyes to be able to comprehend Elder speech!\" protested Bartholomew. \"How-\"\n\n\"My mother would *flip* if she saw this!\" he continued, ignoring the old wizard. The Chosen One ran the tips of his fingers of the words tenderly, as if feeling a freshly scabbed wound. \"When my sister came home with a butterfly tattooed on her shoulder, Mom smashed her laptop with her *knee*!\" \n\nClearing his throat and gingerly rising, Cardamon attempted to assuage the very clearly overwhelmed young lad. \"Great Hero, if you could...tell us the tale of how you completed the Twelve Trials needed to gain entry to the citadel?\"\n\n\"I skipped them.\"\n\n\"You...what?\"\n\n\"The riddle you tattooed on my arm told me I needed to do a bunch of trials, and come to the Citadel of the Order.\" He shrugged. \"Didn't say I had to do the trials first, just that I had to do both. So I came here first.\"\n\nThe legendarily stoic Cardamon the Great could feel his jaw go slack, as did his entire body as he slunk back into the chair. The prophesy was a thousand thousand years old. The magic they performed was borderline sacrilegious, and their need had been beyond desperate. And he had allowed a grammatically error in the wording of the magically-binding prophesy. \n\n\"There were some walking suits of armor outside. Pretty big, too. I assumed they were meant to stop me from getting in, but they just knelt when I walked by. So I figured I'd just waltz right in. Speaking of which...\" He stopped just dead of where Cardamon sat dumbfounded. \"You're in my seat.\"\n\n\"W-wha-?\"\n\n\"I said you're in. My. *SEAT*.\"\n\nCaramon flew out of the seat, spinning until he struck the wall at the far end of the room. That single last word echoed through the entire cavernous chamber, as if a legion of voices had all uttered it in perfect unison. All in attendance recognized it immediately, although it's like had not been heard in years: a Word of Power. \n\nNonchalantly, the Chosen One slid into the chair, now looking quite pleased with himself. He folded his hands. \"Now, I hear there's a dark wizard screwing up the land pretty royally. I kinda feel obligated to do something about that, but definitely my way. I hear he's controlling entire governments from behind closed doors with his magic? I think we magical people can do better than *him*, don't you?\" He grinned, leisurely crossing his legs atop the table.\n\n\"Yeah, we're gonna be making some changes around Here.\" Again, his final word echoed with magical emphasis throughout the chamber, though this time with much less fury.",
"I stared slack jawed at the landscape around me. It was all so perfect.\n\nIt was a beautiful land filled with picture'esk mountains and forest. The air was so fresh that my lungs seemingly went into shock from the lack of pollution. My eyes were drawn to the vibrant colors of everything from the grass to the clouds.\n\nI was summoned on top of a mountain peak on a roughly 10 meter wide platform that looked just like a miniature garden filled with flowers of every color forming symbols and pictures along the ground.\n\n\"The Order has summoned you, mighty hero. This world is in dire need of your help.\" \n\nI turned to look at the old man, or perhaps wizard. He was dressed in the purest of silk, dark blue like the night sky and filled with patterns of stars.\n\n\"The ancient prophecy has led me to thiAAHHHHH!\" I listened to the multiple thunks as the wizard hit every rock on the way down.\n\n\"I just won the 2 billion dollar jack pot you asshat!\" I shouted down at the old man I just hopefully killed. \n\nI stared back at my lotto ticket in my hand. Tears began to form in my eyes as the euphoric happiness I was feeling not 5 minutes ago washed away into bitterness.\n\nClosing my eyes I raised my face to the sky and smelt the sweet clean air. \n\n\"I swear on Satan's sweaty ballsack that if you don't return me right now, I'm going destroy everything I find!\" I called up to the sky.\n\nI waited for a minute. Five minutes. Ten minutes. \n\nWith a sigh I looked around. It was all so beautiful. Too bad I was going to burn it all. \n\nLooking over the edge of the peak I saw the old man's body far below. \n\n\"Looks like I need to go loot him and learn some fire magic...\" I said to myself as I began the climb down."
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[WP] Every sin you make is shown to you in your afterlife. After you die at only 25, god said to get comfy, because you are in for a long one.
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"Cold. Everything felt so cold. Couldn’t move. Dark all around. Were my eyes closed?\n\n\nFaint light trickled through from below. Red lines formed along the bottom half of my sight. Warm vapors and faint whispers tickled my frigid skin. It wrapped around me, grower warmer and hotter by the second. Sweat started dripping out. Then it ran in streams before joining the broiling cloud I found myself drowning a second time in. Whispers grew into cries and cries into screams that echoed in the thick, hot miasma. My dazed eyes darted about for an exit, any exit, before focusing in on the glowing red streams flowing below. Heat swelled as they drew nearer and nearer. The sour, golden mist rushed freely into my gaping mouth.\n\n\n“No, no, this must be a mistake!” I cried. “What did I do wrong?”\n\n\n“Would you like to know?” a voice echoed through my body. \n\n\nA single thought flowed through my head. “Yes” rang in my ears before my lips had uttered, “God?”\n\n\n“God, why?” I asked, tears flowing freely as stinging juices seeped through my hands and eyelids. “I died to save a child from drowning! Why am I condemned?!”\n\n\n“One life is not worth a lifetime of damning others,” hammered through my skull.\n\n\n“I shall show you your misdoings. All of them.” The yellow mist cleared from my face, though the rest of my body still bathed in its flesh-dissolving acid. \n\n\n“Get comfy.\"\n\n\nThe hellscape below faded into blackness before he felt his body being lifted. Cool air rushed to greet his smoking form to kiss him all about and tell him that it was all okay, that it was all a bad dream. Queen rang through the speakers above as steaming clouds of roasting ham wafted through the air.\n\n\n“Isn’t this…” \n\n\n\"You were a chef in this pizzeria,\" the voice shook the world. “Nine years, the same orders. You see yourself now?”\n\n\nI turned my head into the kitchen. There I was, just a day from 25, still with the soul patch my girlfriend made me shave off before the party. Hands swirling, fingers sprinkling, and dough twirling. Damn, I was good.\n\n\nI stared at myself as I, the other I, spread the tomato sauce, the cheese, and the ham before going over to the fridge. \"Yeah, what about it?” I glanced above. It was just ceiling but I kept talking anyways. “I'm no saint but I was a damn good work—”\n\n\nThunder cracked all about and heaven itself lit up in a flash. I stared at myself knife in hand. The overly sharp blade descended, cutting through skin and dicing exposed flesh. \n\n\n“None are more accursed than the false prophets and spreaders of lies and heresy!” the world trembled in divine fury.\n\n\n“No, don’t do it, no!” I cried out at the fool whose wet knife and the red fingers condemned me to an eternity of suffering. Now I remembered. Every noon for nine years unfailing it happened. The same order for the same group. They offered me money for it. They bought my soul, oh Lord, they bought my soul.\n\n\nI screamed as it played over and over and over, spilling years and years of acid on my form. The devils, damn them, they set me up! It burned worse than the flames, oh God! As I burned, my younger self, so innocent, so naïve, called out confidently, “Got five orders of Hawaiian ready fer Lucy and Ally B.!”\n\n\n",
"\"Can we just you know, cut out the ones,\" Andy crossed her arms, as God planted His hands on His hips. \"You know the ones. I mean, you know, you're God.\" God sighed, pinching His nose.\n\n\"The..\" She mouthed, before God interrupted.\n\n\"I know the ones. I won't mention them for the sake of your grandmother, who's here as your character witness. Hi, Ethel.\"\n\nEthel stared at Andy like she didn't recognize her. Andy looked away, scratching her neck and coughing.\n\n\"Sin 347,932. Called a police officer a hoser. Sin 347,933. Stole a candy bar from Ananya Sohdi, a Tinder date's refrigerator. Sin 347,934. Promised to call Ananya and didn't. Sin 347,935. Seduced Robert Penn at his bachelor party. Sin 347,936. Hid the remote at your dad's-\"\n\nAndy buried her face in her hands and groaned.\n\n\"- Kumail Nanjiani, when it was clearly not. Sin 347,938. Punched a birthday clown at your neice's. Later punched police officer-\"\n\nAndy stood up. \"What about all the good stuff? Lots of good people do bad things, and yes, I was a shitheel, but there are people that EAT people down there! Come on! Don't fuck me on this, G!\"\n\nGod sighed. \"Compared to a lot of people, you're terrible. But you could have been worse. I suppose we'll let you in on a trial basis.\""
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[WP] After years of playing the game and falling in love with them, you've decided to propose. They respond "We can't...I'm an NPC. I thought you knew."
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"`\\\\ Ahahahaha~` \n`\\\\ Guess I have to change that, huh?` \n`\\\\ \"If this world won't write me an ending...\"` \n`\\\\ \"What would it take just for me to have it all?\"` \n`\\\\ \"... How can I write love into reality?\"` \n`\\\\ I don't know, but...` \n`\\\\ Thank you.` \n`\\\\ I'll do my best to find you...` \n`\\\\ And fall in love with you, all over again.`\n\n`> os.export(\"monika.chr\") _`"
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[WP] you process time differently from everyone else, one minute to everyone else feels like an hour to you, life is in slow motion, describe a day in your life
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"Waking up is impossible for me. Every breath I take brings a throbbing pain to my chest. My lungs feel like they'll burst every second of my day, and boy is that a lot of seconds. 86400 for you, 5184000 for me. Intense pain and agony in every one of those.\n\nWalking down the stairs is even worse. I can feel every muscle pull and tense, every muscle bearing the weight of my body. That's why I don't live in a multistory house. Everything is on the same y-axis and the struggle of stairs is gone.\n\nSo I get out of bed and take a sh*t. Now, I don't know about you, but sitting on the toilet for what seems like an hour and spending most of that time ejecting a turd out from your anus is not a pleasant experience. And then I wash my hands for 20 minutes, singing the ABCs the entire time.\n\nAnd then comes one of the few moments of the day that I actually enjoy: breakfast. I savor every second eating those motherf*cking Froot Loops.\n\nAnd them I have to brush my teeth and take a shower, which isn't all too bad. I quite enjoy the taste of toothpaste, and who doesn't enjoy a nice, warm shower?\n\nI then get ready for school, which is always fun /s. You'd imagine that the drive must be boring, but it's actually quite fun. Every small jump that the car makes due to all of the small bumps on the road feels like a rollercoaster ride.\n\nAnd then school, oh yes, school. You know how people always complain how their morning lecture feels like a year has gone past even though a measly hour has passed? For me, a year may as well have gone passed (60 hours, to be politically correct). Every tick of the hand of the clock is a minute long. I spend most of my time counting the small particles of lint on Susan's shirt. \n\nBut life is not all doom and gloom, my friend. With the curse of immense boredom and pain that time dilation brings, it also brings the gift of elongated periods of pleasure. Every kiss that my girlfriend gives me feels like an eternity, every second that we cuddle together feeling like that's all I've been doing in life. Who cares what comes afterwards, I like to tell myself. Out of the 5184000 seconds, even 1 of those that I spend with her is worth the other 5183999. Whatever, enough of this sappy lovey dovey stuff.\n\nSchool's done, another ride home, and then homework. Homework's not too bad. With every extra second comes another second to memorize something so I can rattle it off in class, so my grades weren't that bad. With my grade's already being pretty good, who needs to do homework?\n\nThen dinner (another blessing) and sleep. Now, one might suspect that I could sleep for 1 hour and be well rested, but that's not really the case. Don't get me wrong, I love sleep. Who doesn't? And with the last couple of seconds slipping away from me as I rest, I can't help but think about everything that I love: my girlfriend, my family, my friends; I fall asleep with their images seared in my mind as I slip off into eternal bliss."
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[WP] Once a person gets cheated on, they they grow small horns on their head. After 10 years of faithful marriage, your wife comes home with horns.
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"When I see her, I drop the mug that I'd been washing. It thunks into the sink, the handle cracking off when it hits the metal. \"Babe, no,\" I say, horrified. \"I've been home all day, I-\"\n\nShe looks heartbroken. She doesn't look like she's cried yet, and knowing her, she wouldn't have wanted to do so at work, but she looks so close to tears. The pair of horns on her head are small, maybe four inches, but a bright red. They curl into a loop before tapering off. \"At least tell me who she is,\" she says, and sniffles. \"I don't want to know, but I have to.\"\n\n\"I don't *know,*\" I say. \"All I've done today is take care of the dog and clean the house, I swear. You can even check the security camera we have on the porch - no one's come in or out.\"\n\n\"I didn't get these for no reason, Ella,\" she says, and her voice is angry now, bitter and annoyed and *furious*, all at once. I've pissed her off every now and then, like that time that I forgot to pick her up from work when her car broke down, but she's never sounded like this before. \"You can stop lying now.\"\n\n\"I'm *not,*\" I promise, and it's true. I didn't have to go into work today due to the school I work for having a snow day. I was hoping to have a clean house for my wife to come home to, but now ... Everything's gone wrong. \"When did you grow them? What time? Maybe I can prove it to you.\"\n\nPart of her must still trust me, thank God, because though she covers her eyes with her manicured hand and sighs, she answers me. \"I felt them grow in around one-thirty,\" she says. \"I checked the time, just in case you'd want to do something like this.\"\n\n\"I do,\" I tell her. \"Because I didn't *do* anything, I swear, I - you know how I feel about cheating.\"\n\n\"And that's the only reason I'm not leaving and taking my dog right now,\" she says. Her voice cracks on the word *leaving.* \"So... how are you going to fix this?\"\n\nI don't know. And even if I can somehow figure out a way to prove it to her, she has no reason to believe me. Hell, I love her and trust her to bits, but the horns don't get it wrong, you know? If I got my own pair, I'd have no idea what to believe.\n\nBut I can try, so I walk past her to get to the living room. I try to reach my hand out onto her shoulder while I walk past, but she shrugs me off. *I'm an idiot,* I think to myself, and reach down to where I left the laptop on the coffee table.\n\n\"Come sit,\" I say. \"I'm going to show you all the footage from the camera outside, okay?\" It takes her a moment to gather either the energy or the willingness to come over, but she eventually sits next to me, though she leaves two inches between us instead of pressing against my side like normal.\n\nThe footage is exactly what I knew it was going to be - boring. All the way up until one in the afternoon, no one comes by. A few cars and bicyclists go by, a few people on jogs ...\n\nOn the footage, the door opens at 1:28. My wife looks at me, angry, and reaches over to slow down the footage from fast forward to the normal speed. Except the thing is, I don't go out to meet some illicit beau. The door opens, and our dog comes tumbling out, sprinting off to go run around in the lawn. I'm not even visible in the footage, since I never followed our baby girl outside - I just closed the door behind her.\n\nSince the camera is angled in the corner of our porch, we both can watch as our dog spends a few moments sniffing around our yard near the fence, and eventually creeping towards the neighbor's side. Our neighbor, an elderly woman who we invite over for lunch every few weeks and generally adore, is on her porch. The quality of the camera is too poor to see what she's doing, but knowing her, probably knitting or drinking tea.\n\nWe both watch in surprise as our dog squirms under a hole in the fence that I didn't even know existed. Our neighbor's mouth is moving, though her words are inaudible. She reaches over to a bowl of treats that must have been there already, and feeds one of them to the dog.\n\nThere's never been a sound as relieving as the cry-laugh that comes out of my wife's mouth.\n\n"
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[WP] You are a cursed princess and the curse can only be cured by a kiss from your true love. Other kingdoms are sending their most handsome princes and the bravest knights; what they don't know is that, you are homosexual.
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"The Prince left the room in a huff. The princess was moaning at the injustice that he had demanded something in return for land, and she demanded something else. Charlotte simply smiled and nodded her head as she did the laundry.\n\n\n\"I mean can you believe him? He spends a single night with me and thinks he knows me!\" The princess folded her arms, her lips in a pout. \"Where's Edith?\"\n\n\n\"Getting your tea Princess.\" Folding the remainder of the the towels, she moved onto the butlers' socks. It was the last of the pile, before she had a small, brief break. \n\n\n\"I always have to hide in the chambers since father get's so mad. No offense, Charlotte.\" She sat on a nearby chair and rested her head on the wall. \"Is my secret all so secret? What happened the age of spymasters and deception. Surely someone in the kingdoms must have revealed it.\"\n\n\n\"Not sure what you are talking about Princess.\" A runner came through and passed on a note to the Princess. She stood and huffed out of the room. The runner, looking over Charlotte's shoulder whispered, \"Edith thought she was in her chambers. She's furious that she has to face the King now.\" \n\n\nThe runner giggled and ran off. Charlotte patted down the last of the socks and sighed deeply. The Fire Princess, she thought to herself. Green, emerald eyes that reflected the winter spirits in the sky. Not even the borealis challenged her, only appearing in the skies when she was able to radiate her beauty to the world. They dared to impersonate her only when it was coldest. \n\n\nShe got lost in her thoughts before the crashing of another door awoke her. \"Charlotte, have you seen the Princess?\" \n\n\nIt was the King. \"She was here, only a moment again Your Grace.\" He hurried off towards her chambers with a strange gait. Charlotte sighed once more. A cook came through with a basket of peaches. Many had surmised that the Princess was not particularly straight when it came to eating.\n\n\nShe had preferred the ripest of peaches, licking them around her handmaidens in odd ways. The most odd of them was when she tried to continue, as she was allergic to the peaches, developing a mild rash on her face. \n\n\nShe would giggle with the maids and found solace in their company and became distraught when they had to leave. She sometimes insisted that when bathed that since they were witness to her nakedness, that they should also share in the nudity. Such eccentricities were widely known in noble circles.\n\n\nEdith burst into the room with a pot of tea and a shattered cup handle. Nearly in tears, she shrieked when she saw the Princess emerge from the previous entrance. As the yelling continued, Charlotte sighed and went in search of break room.",
"Damn it. I hope this red color goes away. I shifted my weight back and forth as I stared at my arm. Did they have to make it so scaly and red? Shivering, I walk away from the window and sit down by the fire.\n\nMy mother will be so disappointed in me. She has this adorable idea of me being married to a great guy and popping out lots of babies. Like my uterus is some sort of cannon firing at will. \n\n“We’ll just get him to kiss you and the curse will be over! But, maybe we’ll give him some wine first...Lots of wine”\nI don’t blame her. Currently I look like a dragon with narrow hips, small breasts and long blonde hair. At least they didn’t curse my hair. *It’s still gorgeous!* claims my mother. \n\nBut I haven’t told her about the next dilema. The one that will break her heart more than this curse. See, it’s just a small, tiny, petty little detail in this *precious* world she’s dreamt up for me.\n\nI’m in love with women.\n\nLike the soft lips, coy smile, huge breasts that I want to bury my face in, women. ",
"The curse was traditional. My mother told me that, with only True Love's Kiss breaking it, the curse ensured that no woman of our royal blood would ever marry a man who could harm us or our kingdom.\n\nShe always changed the topic when I asked about Aunt Elicia, the Dowager Princess who'd somehow got out of her cursed tower but been awaiting her True Love for forty years. Or about Great Great Granny Queen Catherine, who was rumoured to have been saved from the curse by her favourite pet hound licking her face, and who'd definitely had her first husband killed.\n\nThere wasn't exactly anything I could do to avoid it, curses being hereditary. So I didn't mention to my mother that I hadn't taken up riding in order to eye up cute stable lads, but had actually started riding along a route where several very pretty peasant girls liked to do their laundry in the river. It would only have upset her.\n\nThe curse fell on my 17th birthday, consigning me to a tower upon a mountain top and summoning a dreadful djinn to ward off all would be intruders. There was a brave and handsome knight already doing battle by the next day, which seemed a bit eager to me. Still, he made it past the djinn, and up the stairs of fire, and across the hall of traps, and was really very disappointed indeed when the gargoyles on my balcony sprang to life and whisked him away before he could even claim a peck on the lips.\n\nFor month after month I watched an assortment of brave, handsome fellows fight, lose, win, climb, burn, and generally fail to get anywhere near me. Some of them had squires, younger lads who they often tried to bully into going first across the Hall of Traps to preserve their own princely hides.\n\nAfter all this, it was with some interest that I noticed a squire deliberately misleading his knight. The boy was young, no stubble on his chin and still soft faced, too light of frame to set off the traps that ultimately claimed the life of his erstwhile employer. He dusted his hands, took the sword from the knight's bleeding body, and continued into the tower by himself rather than retreat safely home.\n\nAs he advanced, I changed my judgement. Perhaps just very clean shaven - he was handy with the sword and had a flexible strength that suggested he was easily my own age. His lips were full and pink, in a way that poets called \"sensitive\" on a man and \"sensual\" on a woman. His hair was cut short, showing high cheekbones that reminded me of pretty washer-girls by the river.\n\nOn and on he advanced, lighter on his feet than all the armoured bravos before him. More flexible by far, and short enough to dodge many blows that would have been at head height.\n\nI began to wonder if all my isolation with nothing to watch but men had somehow had an effect on me. Certainly, I'd never caught myself watching a knight's firm bottom in his tight trousers before, but this squire was mesmerising.\n\nUp and up he climbed, beyond peril and danger untold, until at last he burst into my chambers. He was battered, bruised and bleeding, clothes torn and scorched, and had the start of truly impressive black eye. He looked at me through his thick lashes, confident and just a touch saucy.\n\n\"If I'm not wrong,\" he said, in a voice that was higher than I expected, \"You used to ride down by the river every day. You used to blush if I looked up and noticed you standing there while I washed my skivvies.\"\n\nBy this point, my mind hadn't quite caught up, and I felt dreadfully uncomfortable as he reached into his trousers...until he pulled out the pair of socks that had given a handy illusion of manhood. And loosened the tight jacket that had hidden away a modest cleavage.\n\n\"Oh,\" I think was all I said before she pulled me in close and kissed me. Distantly, I felt the tower unravel around us and the cool mountain air warming up. I barely noticed anything except the strength of her arms, the warmth of her lips, the softness of her chest pressed up against mine. I gripped her jacket and she ran a soot-stained hand through my hair.\n\nThe moment was interrupted by the unmistakable sound of my mother clearing her throat rather awkwardly, as we seemed to have been delivered back to my family's castle.\n\n\"Mother, this is... Um. My fiancée.\"\n\nSilence ruled for a solid minute as the Queen regarded the grimy peasant girl in my arms, until my mother spoke rather faintly.\n\n\"Well. I suppose at least she can still dress like a prince for the wedding?\"",
"Sorry for the trash :P Hopefully it's not flagged.\n\n---\n\nWhen it happened, I was shocked beyond belief. A prick of my finger and I lost all use of my body beyond my eyelids. And thank the pantheon for that, otherwise my eyes would have been in so much pain, every day. The magic of the curse made it so that I didn't need to eat or drink, which was good, because it seemed like my mouth was locked shut. After I fell to the floor on that fateful day, the enchantress levitated me through the archway of my bedroom to the balcony that overlooked my parents' kingdom and announced to the public the rules of my curse. I would 'sleep', as she put it, forever until my true love tenderly kissed my lips. Thus it was that my father sent a likeness of me out to the surrounding kingdoms to attract suitors.\n\nFrom far and wide, princes of all shapes, sizes, colours, and religions started showing up. Before they were allowed into my room, my handmaiden, a plain girl from the castle town outside my parents' keep, made sure I was presentable. She stripped me down as she always did and gave me a sponge bath with sweet smelling oils. She brushed my hair until it shone, and, after she had redressed me in one of my more spectacular gowns, fluffed up my pillows to make me more comfortable and prop me up to see those that enter. She stood beside my bed as the first of the princes was allowed in. A pompous looking chap with hair far too oiled to look as splendid as he most likely felt. With all the confidence in the world, he sauntered over to my bed and leaned down, whispering about how he would satisfy me every night of our life together. If I had use of my muscles, I would have recoiled as he planted his sloppy, gross lips on my unmoving ones.\n\nMy handmaiden did recoil, unable to contain her disgust at the sickening sound his mouth made on mine. I felt his tongue force its way between my lips and wanted to scream. After a few moments of nothing happening, my handmaiden tapped him on the shoulder signalling that that was long enough. He pulled back and noticed I hadn't begun to move, \"Peh...waste of a trip. She's not as beautiful as I imagined anyway,\" he said before wiping his own mouth with a handkerchief from his pocket and storming out. My handmaiden pulled a small towel from a large pocket on her apron and wiped my lips. She placed it beneath my chin and produced a small cup of water, rinsing my mouth out.\n\n\"There you are, your highness. A few more today, I'm afraid. And it looks like it's gonna be at least one a week for a while unless someone is lucky enough to be your true love. I'll take care of you, though, ma'am, don't you worry.\" She wiped the last of the trickle of water off my face and I closed my eyes at her touch before hearing the door bang open from the next prince entering.\n\nSo it went for a full year. Sometimes there were shy ones that I felt almost sorry that they had to kiss me. There were brazen ones like that first fellow. Two had to be forcibly removed as they started to try more than a kiss. My handmaiden, Liara, as I had learned her name was, had to fight one back as she called for guards. They took a less civil approach than just keeping him from me as Liara had. Every day and night my faithful girl was by my side, cleaning me, protecting me, making sure I was comfortable. It's hard to pinpoint when it happened but it was sometime between after the eightieth prince left disappointed and the eighty fifth tried to get grabby that I began to have strong feelings for Liara.\n\nEvery night as she bathed me, I started to feel exhilaration when her hands touched my bare skin. Then during the day, I noticed her eyes as another man tried unsuccessfully to break my curse by pressing his rough lips to my tender ones. She looked sad, or disappointed. It broke my heart to see her with any negative feelings. That's when I knew that my heart belonged to her. The woman who made sure I didn't develop bedsores. The woman who forced the ambitious men out the door. The woman who cleaned me and saw to my comfort every single day. She was always there for me.\n\nSo that night when she was bathing me, she looked at my face, and I winked. She blushed and returned to her work but when she looked at me again I slowly closed my eyes, hoping she would understand the invitation for what it was. When her quickened breath started to warm my lips, I realised she had. As her lips touched mine, I felt my fingers jolt and flicker. An electricity shot from the top of my head to my toes and I knew I had control again. Instantly, I threw my arms around the faithful girl and pulled her closer in with a squeal from both of us, reveling in the moment and the warmth of her touch. As I pulled away from the embrace, I stared deeply into her eyes and almost in unison, we both said, \"I love you.\""
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[WP] Turns out, mirrors are a portal to an alternate dimension. No one bothered to activate them.
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"The Goldhearts are a family tainted in tragedy, one could say that they are cursed by seeing the many unnatural deaths of their family members, such as the case of their son, Elias Goldheart. He was an eccentric lad who had a thing for adventures, going out towards the forest in search of treasure and weird animals and plants.\n\nThat's why it didn't surprise when he was killed off by a bear one day when he separated from his parents. His entrails hanging from a nearby tree. There are some cases of bear attacks where the bear bites down on its target and then throws it up into the air using its incredible dorsal strength. The bear would play with its prey, again and again, repeatedly tossing it up and letting it crash on the ground\n\nThe father - Kane Goldheart - brought me the remains of his son several days after, tugged in various layers of bloody sheets, the moment I laid eyes on it I was assaulted by a sense of complete disgust, many thoughts raced through my head as I watched the father plead to bring him back.\n\n\"I'm a mage,\" I stated \"but I cannot bring people back from the dead\"\n\nWhatever strength the man had used to bring his son's corpse to this place had left his body, he fell on his knees and started whimpering, cursing at himself, cursing at his family, something that I found curious considering that no matter how much I examined him I couldn't find any traces of a curse.\n\n\"...but,\" I said putting my hand on his shoulder, \"there is a different approach for this\"\n\nThere was a forbidden book, written by some ancient wizard whose name was erased, about mirrors being portals to another dimension, with the right preparations one could see the other side safely, a near perfect replication of our world. but with the right spell, and the correct incantations and preparations one could go to the other side.\n\nOne could take something -someone- from there.\n\n***\n\nThe Goldhearts are a family tainted in tragedy, can people still say that? the moment you looked at them go about their day, the father happily working, the mother happily taking care of the house and their adopted daughter happily going to school and playing. One could say that they are blessed.\n\nThe ritual was a success, by accessing the other side through a mirror of the Goldheart's house I managed to find a small thing curled up in a corner. She introduced herself as Eli Goldheart, a small girl covered in bandages and bruises. Like a dog, she jumped at my presence and particular appearance. Unlike the house from the other side, this one was nearly destroyed and I could see obvious traces of domestic violence.\n\nAnd evil.\n\nThat's probably the main reason why, when I offered the girl to take her away from this place she immediately accepted. The father didn't get his son back, but he couldn't leave the girl - his son from the other side - alone, and now she has a new family, a loving, caring one. in her smile, there are no traces of the mistreatment she surely suffered in the other side, the tragedy they were so tainted with had left them.\n\nI made a deal with them, instead of the normal payment I get I wanted to see the fruits of my labor without interruptions, once a week I would visit them to see how Eli fared on this side. Everything went smoothly for the first weeks, despite Eli's weird behavior from time to time, not being used to being treated so kindly, oh and of course the mother -her name was Lima, if I remember correctly- always had her eye on her, making sure she didn't do anything *adventure-like*.\n\nOn the seventh week of Eli's arrival, I was stopped by the authorities from entering the Goldhearts house, not because I was in trouble or anything, but because a day before my arrival someone had heard screams and shooting coming from the house, my heart sank. I used a small spell to make the officer think I was one of them and quickly made my way to the house.\n\nIt felt like I was inside the stomach of a beast, the pressure was almost unbearable and if felt like my head was going to split in two. still, I searched and searched for them. I got the same evil vibe from the house of the other side.\n\nLima Goldheart was in her kitchen, shot three times in the stomach, she didn't have any clothes on and there were traces on her body, of something more atrocious being done to her.\n\nStill, I kept looking.\n\nKane Goldheart was in the living room, chopped down, no legs or arms to be seen anywhere, he too was shot several times, probably as a way to further destroy the body. Still, I kept looking. Every mirror in the house was destroyed, it might have been because I was so engrossed in searching for Eli that they didn't enter my mind at the time.\n\nAnd still, no matter how much I looked I couldn't find Eli anywhere.\n\n***\n\nCritiques are welcome! - [r/Onni21](https://www.reddit.com/r/Onni21/)\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n"
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[WP] You discover that when you make your kid sister laugh, she can see visions of the future. The harder she laughs, the clearer the visions become. You're holding a fistful of lottery tickets...
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"\"Stop that tickles!\" Laura declares, smile still on her face from her laughter. \"And you might want to get to the bathroom - you're about to pee your pants.\" \n\nSure enough, about thirty seconds later, Ashley felt the urge to pee and ran off to relieve herself. Finishing her business and washing her hands, she came back to find Laura sitting on the couch, flipping through the television channels.\n\n\"How'd you know I had to go to the bathroom?\" Ashley asked, confused.\n\n\"I saw you,\" she announced as if this were nothing spectacular. \"When I was laughing, I could picture you going into the bathroom and barely making it there.\" \n\nConfused, Ashley walked over and began tickling Laura again, causing another fit of laughter. \"Stop, stop!\" she got out between laughs. \"And be careful. It looks like something's gonna happen to the vase over there, but I'm not sure what.\" \n\nKnowing that this definitely was something extraordinary, Ashley took off out of the house, promising Laura she would be back shortly. Making her way to the gas station, Ashley grabbed the sheets to fill out for lottery tickets and came back to the house. On her way in, she accidentally bumped the stand next to the door, and the vase on it shattered into multiple pieces.\n\n\"Told you to be careful,\" Laura announced when she heard the crash. \"What are those?\" \n\n\"These are the key to our fortune,\" Ashley muttered under her breath, a devious look in her eyes. \"Ready for another tickle fight?\" she asked, looking at her little sister and knowing that no matter what she was going to get the winning numbers.\n\n\"What? No! I don't wanna laugh anymore. It makes my tummy hurt and gives me a headache.\"\n\n\"Too bad. Here comes the tickle monster!\"\n\nLaura tried to escape, but was no match for Ashley. Ashley trapped her and began to tickle her, making her screams of laughter get louder and louder. Eventually, Laura started to call out random numbers. Keeping them in mind, Ashley let her sister up only when she had the six she needed.\n\n\"If this works like I think it will, we'll be richer than we've ever been before,\" she told her sister. \"I'll be back again. Stay here.\" Making her way back to the gas station, she filled out the sheet with the numbers her sister had called, changing it up so each number was in a different order. \n\nThat night, the news was playing on the TV. Rare in the household, but Ashley had to know. Her tickets were in front of her, and when the winning numbers were announced, she smiled in glee and started jumping up and down. As she realized she had just won millions of dollars, a thought occurred to her. *Laura better get used to laughing because she's gonna be doing a lot of it from now on.*"
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[WP] You can see the future but can't do anything to change it.
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"Nothing ever changes.\n\nMcKenna's heady speculations of Timewave Zero theory provided the foundation for the next generation's more practical applications in computer technology. C. had come up with his own ideas in 2008 regarding the technological singularity during an acid trip during which he talked (typed) over Facebook which he no longer used with his half Japanese friend who lived in Sacramento who went on to work for Google. \n\nThings took a bad turn some years later considering the implications of the simple inevitability that if the singularity ever happens, it's logically already happened, and by all indications it was going to happen at an always ever-increasing likelihood (if you asked google in late 2017, for instance, I think it gave the year in the 2040s or so but that number is pure conjecture for obvious reasons).\n\nSuch speculations are best not borne out by the faint of heart. I mean when you start recognizing parallels between your life and movies like 1999's *The Matrix* or *Infinite Jest* with its \"Subsidized Time\" are one thing, but it's quite another when out of nowhere you begin realizing with deep certainty that the titles of all the major movies are openly mocking their consumer's inability to change or even see their role as as a cog in a machine (Kesey's \"Combine\")--*Frozen*, *Minions*, etc.--quite another indeed. It's a rabbit hole people from the early 2000s either chose to exploit or ignore, depending on their personalities, although the later became increasingly impossible at least among educated people with the slightest notion or preconception of where technology was going, with VR headsets and Amazon recording speakers being marketed far and wide in late 2017. \n\nOne way to think of the singularity is when everyone's choices become the same. It's when everyone finally agrees to vote for the same president. It's when everyone finally has an Alexa in their home, and a google as well. In the singularity there's no such thing as boundaries or contradictions. It's a hot, humming light, humming ever so fast and close together that it's nearly impossible to see the little thing going back and forth at the center of it all. \n\nThe worst and in some ways most spectacular event or hallucination happened several days after he met God and was using the library computers on campus, his usual routine back in 2013 of alternatively checking Yahoo for news and his Facebook feed. He had an appointment with a school counselor and was waiting for a call back because he hadn't slept in several days due to possible alcohol withdrawal among other things, and he couldn't even find his way to the medical building where his appointment was held. But they weren't answering. He scrolled through the yahoo feed, it's probably not much different than today, with the news links lined up in the middle of three columns and a bunch of ads, weather, stock info, comics, etc on the sides. C. read the Dilbert comic, and it wasn't right at all. It was joking about collecting brainwaves. And as he looked at the news feed, to his horror, all of the stories were identical: \"Every day is exactly the same\" each headline read, one after another.\n",
"The bartender places another Jack and Coke in front of me. My fifth since I sat down. \n\n\"Thanks, Aiden,\" I say. Our eyes meet. I see a wrinkled hand holding the wrinkled hand of grey haired woman with gentle eyes. I see a grown man who looks almost identical to Aiden, with his same crooked smile, playing with a toddler on the floor in front of the couch we're sitting on. I can feel his happiness. \"How's Jenna?\" \n\n\"We broke up a week back, Dex,\" he said. \"Starting to wonder if I'll ever be able to keep a girl, you know.\"\n\n\"Trust me, Aiden. You're going to find a good woman, and she's going to make you happier than you ever thought possible.\"\n\nAiden smiled at me as if to say, 'what do YOU know, you old drunk' and went to better paying customers. I looked around to see if I was drunk enough.\n\nI caught the eyes of a tall guy in a cardigan laughing with some friends. I see a lawyer saying, 'I'm sorry. There's nothing I can do. She won custody, Jake.' \n\nIn the corner was a brunette in a red dress. She was flirting with a man with long, blonde hair. It was only for a second, but my eyes wandered to hers. I see a dirty, matted mess of blonde hair covering it's owner's face. Their arms outstretched, choking me, as I feel life fade from my body.\n\nI closed my eyes and shook my head. I could try. I could walk over there and shoot blondie in the back of the head. Either he would survive, or some other dirty, blonde haired person would do it. What ever happens, will happen. I'm just a witness. I think back to the young man that was here every Wednesday. He had a tattoo of a Hot Wheels track all down his left arm. One night, I bumped into him on the way to the bathroom. I saw a needle sticking out of a checkered flag. He hasn't been here for a month now. I down my drink, and wave for Aiden.\n\nHe nods his head at me. He started my drink without asking what it is. He knew what I wanted. A double Jack and Coke with just a splash of Coke. I looked him right in the eye when he brings it over.\n\n\"I love you, Aiden,\" a younger version of the girl with the gentle eyes says. Now her hair is red, and her dress was white. A deep haze surrounds the rest of her. 'Now we're getting somewhere,' I thought.\n\nThe haze covered more and more with each drink. Eventually, I made eye contact with plump, but cute woman down the bar. I hear a long, harsh ring, but all I see is fog. \n\n'Close enough,' I think. Placing a $100 bill under my empty glass, I made my way out the door, and down the street. \n\nA block or two later I stopped. Vomit erupted from my throat and I bent down, spraying the ground with a dark ichor. When it was all up I started my walk home again. I immediately slipped, and fell into my own vomit. It seemed as good a place as any to sleep.\n\n\"Sir, are you okay?\" A familiar voice said. I opened my eyes to red haired woman with gentle eyes.\n\n\"I had a really good time tonight.\" The haze covers almost everything. The only thing I can see of the person talking is a crooked smile.\n\n\"Is there anyone I can call for you?\" The red haired girl said as she helped me up.\n\n\"Um, no. Thank you, but I'm alright,\" I replied as I dug into my pockets for a twenty. \"Here. Take this and have a drink on me.\"\n\n\"Oh, no. I don-\"\n\n\"Please, I insist,\" I said cutting her off. \"I won't take no for an answer. The bar with the blue lights out front. Ask for Aiden at the bar. He's the best bartender in the state.\"\n\nShe thanked me and made her way toward the bar. As I made my way home, I kept looking back at her. I was satisfied when I saw her walk into Aiden's bar. I can't change anything I see. But that doesn't mean I can't pick what to encourage."
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[WP] The new queen is in need of a husband, and the princes of other kingdoms aren't quite up to spec. She jokes that marrying a dragon might remedy some diplomatic problems. No one expected the Dragons to take her request seriously.
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"\"And what is it that brings you here??\" Queen Monica of Selaria stared quizzically at the sharply dressed man who had waltzed in unimpeded by her guards.\n\n\"I am Meloth, prince of Dragonkind. You said you would rather marry a dragon than the neighboring nobles, so here I am.\" That explained his outfit. Dragons had a habit of overdressing their human disguises.\n\n\"I wasn't being serious about that. It's called sarcasm. Dragons have sarcasm right?\"\n\n\"I am aware that is was said in jest, but my offer still stands. Marry me and you will have the might of dragonkind at your disposal, and you'll never have to bother with an insolent boy who thinks he's worthy to be your king again.\"\n\n\"I'm flattered that you think me worth pursuing, but it is my duty to produce an heir to secure my bloodline. No one but a human can be my husband.\" It was a legitimate concern, but more importantly it pushed the conversation in a direction most wouldn't pursue for long.\n\n\"Oh this won't be a problem. Dragonic magic is very powerful, I assure you this disguise is as human as you are, and will produce your heir just as well as any of those whelps.\" So that failed, and now the queen knew more about dragon biology than she cared to.\n\n\"Well I don't know how dragons choose their partners, but humans expect some kind of courtship. You can't just barge in and propose.\" This one wasn't true at all. Among nobility it wasn't uncommon for a woman to be married to someone she's never even met.\n\n\"Then set your terms. A month, a year, a decade even, I will devote my every hour to winning your heart if that's what it takes.\"\n\n\"Fine then. You have your year. But I assure you it will not be an easy feat.\"\n\n\"I look forward to the challenge.\"\n\nAnd that was the beginning of the oddest courtship in the nation's history.\n\nIt started with the gifts. Every day there would be a more elaborate treasure left in the courtyard. Ranging from simple jewels to life sized statues of queen Monica. Once there was even a poem.\n\nWhen it became clear that wouldn't work, Meloth moved on to shows of strength. Any kingdom that dared try to claim Selarian land found it's capitol on fire, and any bandits who sprung up found their whole camp behind bars. As in they literally had giant cages dropped around their tents in the middle of the night.\n\nFinally there came the dates. Every week Meloth would come to fly queen Monica away to some far away vista or pleasant oasis.\n\nFinally she had enough. The very next time he arrived to take her somewhere queen Moncia demanded to know the truth.\n\n\"What's your game Meloth? What could you possibly want so desperately that you will devote so much to courting me? We aren't a threat to your kingdom, and our whole treasury doesn't compare to a single dragon's horde. What can you want so badly that you'll go to such lengths to get it?\"\n\n\"Isn't it obvious my dear? I want to make you happy. You may not recognize me, but I was the dragon who kidnapped you when you where younger.\"\n\n\"That has got to be the worst pick up line I have ever heard. I would stick to wanting to steal my gold if I where you.\"\n\n\"Oh I know it sounds bad. But I was just an ambitious drake back then, a fool who thought he could get a head start on his horde with a princess's ransom. What I didn't expect was to actually care about you. But that day you finally gave up hope of rescue and began crying, I couldn't stand another moment of it. You never escaped on your own, I let you go because I couldn't bare to see you like that any more.\"\n\n\"I remember. Escaping on my own was one of my proudest accomplishments. Thanks for ruining that.\"\n\n\"I'm sorry, but it's the truth. Once you where gone I made every effort to protect you. I united the dragons into a single nation so I could keep them from attacking your home. I even ate that awful lord your father tried to marry you off to just so you would remain single until you where old enough to choose your own.\"\n\n\"So after kidnapping me you started stalking me and killing anyone I might have married so I'd remain available for you? Seriously, the plot to rob my nation was a better story.\"\n\n\"Oh I never had any intention of marring you. I thought you'd be able to find *someone* among humanity who could please you. But that wasn't panning out, and your disappointment hurt me just as much as your tears. So if you want to know what I want, all I want is to see you be happy. I'd devote the rest of my life to it if you'd let me.\"\n\n\"Well I guess that's sweet, in a weird, stalkery way. I need some time to consider this.\"\n\nAnd so he gave her time. For months he kept distance. No more presents. No more dates. No more threatening her enemies. If stepping back would make her happy that is what he would do.\n\nEventually Meloth gave up any hope that she would ever want him. He fully understood it. On closer examination, his actions did seem kinda stalkery. But just as he began wondering if it wasn't too late to find a mate among his own kin, he was greeted by none other than queen Monica in his court, standing among dragons three times her size as if she owned the place.\n\n\"And what is it that brings you here?\" Meloth asked, remembering her own greeting to him months ago.\n\n\"I am Monica, queen of Selaria. You said you wanted marry me, so here I am.\"\n\n\"I thought you said I was a weird stalker?\"\n\n\"I did, and you kind of are. But you're also the only person who's expressed actual concern for my happiness. Being in a relationship with someone who wasn't trying to manipulate me was nice, I'd like it back.\"\n\nMeloth donned his human form in a moment and dropped to his knee with a ring he had chosen from his horde ages ago.\n\n\"If you'll take me you can have it, and everything else you can ask for.\"",
"\"Thank you, Your Majesty.\" The nobleman said as he bowed deeply and retreated from the throne room. \"You are most wise.\"\n\nQueen Rebecca nodded in response and waited patiently for the door to close. When it finally did she slouched deep into her throne and let out a loud, exasperated, groan. \"Oooh, fookin hell, uhv 'ad it wiv dese stook up daftys.\" She gestured towards the now closed doors. \"Dat stoopid bastard di'nt even know to put shite in 'is fookin fields. Uh mean for fook's sake, thas basic shite.\" She let out another groan and turned to her handmaiden, Belinda. \"Belli, ples tell meh thas tha las uhv em.\"\n\nBelinda looked over the list she held. \"That was the last grievance milady, but you still have a marriage propose to-\"\n\n\"Aw fook meh, uhnodder uhn.\" The queen loudly thump her head against the back of her throne several times. \"Oi, server-mahn!\"\n\nThe head-butler, Reginald, strode forward. \"Yes, milady.\"\n\n\"Geh meh uh fookin draink, uh goodt stout uhn, nuhn uhv thah froo-froo shite yoo laike.\"\n\n\"Yes, milady.\" Reginald said with a slight grimace, before leaving the room with a huff.\n\nRebecca turned to Belinda again. \"Yuh know wha tha las one dit?\"\n\n\"Ye-\"\n\n\"Aht suppah, uh sed uh laiked tha quail, so wuz ee do?\"\n\n\"He brough-\"\n\n\"Ee showd oop tha nex dee wiv fivdy uhv tha fookers. Now donae geh meh wron uh few munts agoo uhd'v gladly tayken uh quail, buh now? Whah tha fook am uh gunnah do wiv fivty uhv tha fookers.\" Rebecca shook her head and looked Belinda in the eye with a sly grin. \"Uhn pepple wunner'd why uh sed uh'd radder marreh uh draggen.\"\n\n\"Actually milady, it's a representative of the High Counsel of the United Dragon Nation, who's here to propose.\"\n\nRebecca looked at Belinda in shock. \"Reallay?\"\n\nBelinda nodded vigorously. \"Yes milady, they took your statement quite seriously.\"\n\n\"Uhv curse.\" Rebacca sighed. \"Oh wehl, might az wehl jus geh it oveh wit, sen 'im in.\"\n\nThe great door opened and the... man(?)... who walked in looked suprisingly human, bipedal and finely dressed. In fact the only thing that hinted that he wasn't entirely human was his large scaly wings... and his horns... and his tail... and his gold cat-like eyes... and the fact that his hands ended in large, black, claws instead of fingernails, but besides that entirely human, also his lack of ears.\n\nHe strode across the throne room casually, almost as if he was bored by everything around him. He finally stopped about fifteen feet in front of the throne and gave a slight nod. \"Yuh majsty, uh herd yur lookin fer uh fookin usbin er sum shite.\"\n\nRebecca leaned closer to Belinda and whispered. \"Uh dinnae know ee'd bae soo char'min.\"",
"She has been sat on the chair for hours when the last suitor had come and gone. She could only sigh as she retired to her private quarters and allowed her handmaidens to undo her corset while they poured her a bath.\n\n'I can't believe the utter *nerve* of some of these boys,' she said to them as she allowed her dress to fall to the ground. 'Boys, not men. The lad from the desert even the gall to question to question me about what right I had to choose my own husband. I mean, if he believes that having the god-sworn right to play with my pussy gives him the throne then he should learn more about the laws of the country he wishes to marry himself to. And who was that Orlesian with the golden mask, to say that he heard all Ferelden women had beards and lacked any grace? If he had said that to me as a countryman he'd at least have the respectability to save face by exiling himself to faraway lands. Christ, Daddy left me in one hell of a mess. Oh, and I have to choose one of them...'\n\nThe two handmaidens turned to each other. Marjorie, the youngest, had a worried face ready to run at the slightest hint of anger. Philippa, however, chose to wear an amused face.\n\n'There may still be hope, My Lady,' Philippa began. 'Remember how a week ago, when you first met Prince Harold of Wendlin, how if any of the other elligible suiters were not up to task you might as well be willing to engage yourself to a dragon?'\n\n'Yes, I remember,' the queen answered. 'Rather crass in hindsight, to insult just one suitor in that manner...'\n\n'Well, we've received inquiries on how they are to present themselves,' Philippa said as she sat down several pieces of parchments onto a nearby table. 'Where will the suitors meet the queen? Will they be required to take human form or remain in their true form? Will gifts be necessary?'\n\n'You aren't pulling my leg, are you?' the queen asked.\n\n'We are most certainly not, Your Highness,' Marjorie continued in Philippa's place while she checked the temperature of the water. 'I... admit I had my reservations of giving you these letters. Both for what they imply and your own reaction.'\n\n'Are they genuine?' the queen asked.\n\n'As far as the scholars are aware, these are signed in an ancient and formal form of the draconic language,' Philippa said. 'And to imagine, a dragon could write something so elegant, sweet *and* steamy...'\n\nThe queen extended her hand out to demand said letter, glancing through it instantly. She chose not to mention how Marjorie was looking over her shoulder, only giving a sly smirk as she could feel the heat radiating from the handmaiden's flustered skin.\n\n'Such a thing *can't* be possible,' Marjorie whispered.\n\n'Oh, it's possible,' the queen said. 'Very well... bring my modesty screen and summon the scribe.'\n\n'Yes, my lady,' the two said in unison. Philippa left the room to fetch the scribe while Marjorie grabbed the folded screen and placed it beside the metal tub while the young queen stepped inside, feeling the heat of the water on her feet and ankles before descending until the suds were restoring her modesty.\n\n'You're doing this naked?' Charles said as he entered the room. 'Really, Jenny?'\n\nMarjorie's scolding strike to his arm could be heard from within the waters. 'How dare you?' she demanded. 'This is official business. Address Her Majesty properly, Sir Charles!'\n\n'It's all fine, Marjorie,' Jennifer stated. 'Besides, I am constantly working, even when I'm soaking in warm water or laying on my bed.'\n\n'I'd best word that differently,' Charles said. 'It makes you come off as a whore.'\n\nShe let out a deep laugh at that. 'Touché... Charles, right this down.'\n\n---\n\n*Her Majesty The Queen of Ferelden Jennifer III wishes to declare her intentions to accept dragons as potential suitors in marriage*\n\n*All who wish to present themselves for the Queen are to arrive within their dragon forms and declare themselves to the guards who will guide them to the Throne Room to present themselves to the Queen*\n\n*As some have inquired, gifts are not required but are also not discouraged*\n\n'\"The queen is accepting suitors on the third Monday of the Month with prior notice\",' Dunkelzhan read aloud as he paced in his castle. '\"All suitors who are eligible are most welcome\"... Is this what this says?'\n\n'I don't know,' the messenger said. 'I can't read.'\n\n'So... she's willing to accept something she said in jest,' Seqwyn the Gold said as he poured himself a glass of port. 'She must be desperate.'\n\n'Of course she is,' he stated as he handed a pouch to the human. 'Would you like me to send you back to town by magic? The walk back is rather treacherous.'\n\nWith a nod from the message boy he was sent on his way in a flash of light before the bronze dragon sat down and took up his own glass. 'She said suitors are *most* welcome. You noticed, didn't you?'\n\n'She's desperate for a husband,' Seqwyn declared. 'She's been seeing suitors for three months. Princess Borealia is an unlikable cunt whose mistreatment of the common people led to her being dethrones but at least she was able to find a husband on her second.'\n\n'And she opened the door to dragons,' Dunkelzhan said. 'Longer lived than even elves, more greedy than dwarves and more manipulative than even the most ruthless demons. Or politicians.'\n\n'They aren't a race,' Seqwyn said. 'Even if they are scaly bastards.'\n\n'To think, with how crazy this will get,' Dunkelzhan proclaimed. 'With even a few words some of them will be playing a game. Maybe not for the hand of marriage or even with the fate of the kingdom of Ferelden... but they'll be playing someone.'\n\n'Is that why you've been polishing that tiara?' Seqwyn asked. 'Asking your little pixie friends to describe the \"Young Ferelden Maiden who has inherited the throne\"?'\n\n'We had a deal,' the bronze said with a frown. 'No spying on the other.'\n\n'Dearest brother, we both know this is hypocrisy,' the gold said with a smile which was soon matched. 'Very well. I won't stop you, I won't compete for her affections... but I shan't be providing you any aid.'\n\n'Of course,' Dunkelzhan said as he approached his dresser. 'And who knows? I might actually fall for her. Should I wear bright or muted colours?'\n\n'Bahamut's Claws, you're presenting yourself to a lady,' Seqwyn said. 'Start with black leather and match your outfit to that. And remember to apply polish!'"
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[WP] After the town started cremating their dead, the Necromancers got... creative.
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"Necromancy was always the thing that i was. ever since i was a little kid and a baby i knew that when i grew up i was going to be there. and then when it happened i was. people syarted diting left and right the town cremated everyone even the people who were alive and the necromancers animated the ashes into a tornado it eas a dust devil it was big",
"It was a night blacker than the heart of our Master. The air was absolutely gelid, with snow raging across the land. We delved into the town crypts, hoping to find some suitable bodies to use for our eternal war against the living. However, when we got there, we had found the crypts in a decrepit state, having been all but abandoned. All that we found were antiquated relics that had no value or power to them. Because there were no bodies or even bones to be found, we departed from the crypts and decided to look through the shadier parts of the streets, since the denizens of the town would be hiding away in their warm homes.\n\nOutside of the crypts, we found a lone crypt keeper with a lamp walking out in the snow storm, seemingly going somewhere. We decided to follow him.\n\nAfter we had spent about twenty minutes shadowing the keeper, we came upon a rather large crater with a few stone buildings. The keeper went to one of the buildings and produced a ring of keys from his pocket. Once the door was opened, we snuck inside and saw a giant furnace with a blazing flame, making the room much warmer than the wilderness outside. Inside the room were small locked coffers, each resting upon a pedestal. The keeper went to each one and examined it, looking to see if their locks were still sealed well. One had a faulty lock.\n\nWhen we got just a little closer, we saw that inside were ashes. Presumably, all of these coffers contained ashes.\n\nAfter the keeper was done with his examination, he prepared to leave and lock up the building. It was then that we came out of the shadows and surrounded him, making our presence known to him.\n\n\"Eh? Who are you s'posed to be? This place is off limits,\" said the keeper.\n\n\"I, my dear crypt keeper, am a high-ranking Necrolord, and these are my associates. Tonight, we'll be killing you. Don't you worry, though; we will make good use of your remains...and the ashes of the dead in this crater.\"\n\n\"Like Hell you will,\" the old man said, \"I won't be killed by a bunch of dress-wearing pansies!\"\n\nThe fool then pulled out two bottles of beer from his pockets, chugging one and breaking the bottle. He tried throwing the full bottle at me while running at me with the broken bottle, but I casually swatted away the projectile with my staff without so much as a thought. I then picked the fool up by his neck, tightly clasping his throat.\n\n\"Any last words before I send your soul to the Master, mortal?\"\n\n\"Go to Hell,\" said the beaten man.\n\nI proceeded to then finish the man by draining his soul and creating a pocket portal that would whisk his soul away. It made me smile to hear the blood-curdling scream he gave before his soul disappeared.\n\nMy necromancers and I would then grab all the coffers in the buildings and bring them to the central tomb. There, we would empty all the ashes into a large pile in the middle of a ritual circle we had drawn. Using the power of the furnace in tandem with our necromantic powers, we began the ritual.\n\nWhirls of orange fire and blue souls surrounded us, but we had no fear. Cries of anguish filled the air. When the ritual was done, we had created a hollow amalgam of souls given form, imbued with the powers of fire and shadow. We then took the amalgam and placed it within the body of the dead crypt keeper. The keeper's skin cracked and blackened, his eyes melted away. In his eye sockets burned an orange flame. Upon the creation of this new entity, all the buildings in the crater exploded with the new surge of power.\n\nThis new, vastly empowered entity's first words came with a voice that both boomed and echoed at the same time.\n\n\"The living shall burn...\n...for the Master...\"\n",
"From the frigid, heartless, earth they tore\n\nThe hollow bones, from where'er they lie.\n\nUntil their magics were writ in lore\n\nAnd all the townsfolk afeared to die.\n\nThen they set out to slay their dark fears\n\nWhich lay, still as stone, enshrined in earth.\n\nAnd then, despite their fellowships jeers\n\nTurned their dead ancestors to the hearth.\n\nNow, creative the magicians are\n\nThey spin their magics with a cruel twist.\n\nThey draw their rituals from afar\n\nWith bones not now remaining amidst.\n\nA creature emerged from fire and ash \n\nLife taken from those, the long burned dead. \n\nBones rattle, an otherworldly lash \n\nEmbers glow for eyes, in empty head. \n\nInstead, they spin creatures born of flames\n\nAsh wraiths, wishing only to devour \n\nWhether it be houses, men, or dames. \n\nThey are coming soon. The midnight hour. \n\nWe care no longer for afterlives\n\nNow all we wish is that we survive.\n\n`~~`\n\n*My first try at poetry. Constructive criticism welcome.*"
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[WP] Humans are the most peaceful race in the Galaxy. Aliens travel to Earth and ask that we reveal humanity's great secret for peaceful co-existence
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"The President returned from the alien spacecraft flabbergasted. She made a brave face of it for the cameras- she was a professional after all- but she cut the press conference shorter than expected and called an emergency meeting. Invited were only the VP, her science advisor, and her longtime personal assistant, Renee. As soon as the doors closed she allowed herself a minor panic attack.\n\n\"Holy *shit*!\" She exclaimed, by way of opening the meeting \"*HOLY shit!* oh my *GOD!*\" \n\nShe staggered to a chair and grappled with it. It took her a minute to work out how to sit.\n\n\" You won't believe it! You just... I mean... Holy holy shit!\" She gripped the mug of coffee Renee passed her like it was a handhold at ten thousand feet.\n\n\"Ok, ok\" she said after thanking her assistant. She waved the rest of the wide eyed staff into chairs and seemed to steady herself. Not her first rodeo, she reminded herself. Then suppressed a hysterical laugh.\n\n\"Dr. Hu\" she addressed her science advisor \"Briefly, what do we really KNOW about\" she gestured vaguely skyward, \"UP there. OUT there.\"\n\nHu, ever the advisor, supplied information, comfortable in this role:\n\n\"This is first contact. We literally have no reference points for life other than ourselves. Anything is possible.\"\n\n\"What happened up there, Karen?\" The VP was visibly less comfortable in his role as potential responsible party.\n\n\"They. Are. All. Crazy!!!\" The President took a calming breath and then bit the bullet and laid it all out for them.\n\n\"They've been watching us for centuries. And they think we have it all figured out! They think Earth is some sort of utopian Paradise! That we are the spiritual genius gurus of the galaxy. Us! Earth people! THATS how effed up the universe is apparently!\"\n\nThe staff stared, blown away. She let the news sink in for a good 20 seconds before plowing on into the really good stuff.\n\n\"Yes, us. We're murdering our own planet, I've got multiple unjust military actions on my hands right now, that I can't afford politically to get out of, earth children starve to death while my people protest and riot over the 'right' to free WiFi... And they want US, to tell them the secret meaning of Life!\"\n\nShe sighed, drank her coffee while the staff reacted. Then cut them all off again.\n\n\"Oh yeah one more thing: they're gonna blow up the planet if we don't tell em how we do it. Yeah. That's how they roll apparently. They sack and pillage each other for their philosophical truths.\n\n\"We've got 24 hours. What are we gonna tell em?\"\n\nThe predicable panic ensued among the staff.\n\n\"42?!\" Suggested Hu, almost seriously.\n\n\"Can we hit them first? How soon can we target their ship?\" Demanded the VP\n\n\"Ship-S, plural, there's hundreds of them!\" The president snapped.\n\n\"We have to prove to them how much we suck! Show them our TV shows!\" Shouted Hu\n\n\"They Looove our TV!\" Yelled the president.\n\n\"Listen to me!\" Hollered Renee, but no one did until she threw ice water in their faces. They quieted down and glared at her.\n\n\"Our only secret is this!\" She flapped her hands, not used to speaking so forcefully, but full of sincerity and desperate passion. \"Our only secret is this: Yes, we are a deeply flawed species. Yes, we have terrible problems, that are mostly our own fault! But our one strength is our knowledge that these problems ARE problems! This awareness is obviously what these aliens have lost! And its only when you know that you have problems that you can solve them! Its knowing that we are messed up that gives us Hope!\"\n\nStunned silence greeted this speech.\n\n\"They might buy that\" said Hu.\n\n\"Not bad\" commented the president\n\n\"Total bullshit of course\" added the VP.\n\n\"Obviously\" said the president. \"But its the best we've got. We'll go with that. Let em know I'm coming back, Hu.\"\n\n\"Prep the nukes just in case, Ms President?\"\n\n\"Of course. Nice work, though, Renee, I think they just might fall for this\""
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[WP] Countries no longer have national anthems. They have theme songs.
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"(*First time doing one of these. Loosely to the tune of Animanics*) \n&nbsp; \n&nbsp; \nIt’s time for the Dutch (No, not *those* twats) \nOur King is called Wim-Lex \nSo just join us; Make a mess \nYou’ll get subsidies and blank checks \nWe’re the Dutch (No, not *those* twats) \n&nbsp; \nCome enjoy the Lower Countries \nAnd our primary export; Pot \nIn our Golden Age we liked slavery quite a lot \nNow the King has no more power \nAnd all the ceremonies are for naught \nBut the Lion’s loose \nAnd him we’ll choose \nBecause Maxima is pretty hot \n&nbsp; \nWe’re the Dutch (No, not *those* twats) \nBikes are fun and laws complex \nTraffic jams are concrete facts \nWhile the IRS is just a mess \nWe’re the Dutch (No, not *those* twats) \n&nbsp; \nRutte and Ollongren want to rule forevermore \nImmigrants gang together \nWilders wants them out of our drugstores \nBaudet hates the Euro \nWhile Sylvana is just a bore \nSo get some drugs \nWe’ll give free hugs \nAnd democracy is no more \n&nbsp; \nWe’re the Dutch (No, not *those* twats) \nAnd Frisian too. Okay. I guess. \nOur King is called Wim-Lex \nAdore Blackface and orange slacks \n&nbsp; \nWe’ve got quite some fame-y \n(Actually pretty lame-y) \nAnd Holland is not our name-y \n&nbsp; \nWe are the Dutch \nAnd we’re those twats \n\n"
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[WP] His psychic power was so power that when he commanded everyone to kneel, their bodies betrayed them and they knelt. All except you.
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"\"Veni, vidi, vici.\"\n\n\"Cogito ergo sum.\"\n\n\"I am become death, destroyer of worlds.\"\n\nMany of humankind's great and terrible are known by their words --words which capture the awe and glory associated with their deeds.\n\nFor the man who defeated the rogue psychic Calmerax, the impact was somewhat less than stunning.\n\n\"Eat wheelchair, you big-headed fuck!\" definitely had staying power, but lacked somewhat in gravitas.",
"\"**KNEEL!**\"\n\nHis voice reverberated through my skull. In an instant, people around me dropped to their knees.\n\n\"Shit,\" I breathed. Of all the banks in all the world, this had to happen here, today. Instinctively, I turned to see a man wearing a ridiculous green Halloween costume staring quizzically at me through slits in his mask. Only he and I were still standing.\n\n\"**I SAID KNEEL!**\"\n\n*Fine, let's just play along to get this over with*, I thought, sliding down.\n\n\"I am the Malachite Maestro,\" he said, making wide, sweeping gestures. *Oh, goddess, he gave himself a nickname, and an alliterative one to boot.* \"And for the next... However long it takes to rob this place... **YOU ALL EXIST TO SERVE ME**\"\n\nI sighed.\n\n“Sir?” I said, raising my hand tentatively, “Any chance I can just go?”\n\n“No, you may not. **EVERYONE IS STAYING HERE.** And when speaking to me, **YOU WILL ADDRESS ME AS MAESTRO!**\n\n“Yes,” my eyes rolled in my head, “Maestro… It’s just, I’m a single mother, and my daughter is starring in a musical, and it’s tonight… I can’t be late for that...”\n\n“Enough. **REMAIN SILENT, AND DO NOT QUESTION THE WILL OF THE MALACHITE MAESTRO!**” He strutted towards me, tailed by a comical flapping cape. His outstretched hand grabbed my chin, pulling it up so my eyes could meet his. “Maybe I’ll bring you with me when I go,” he sneered, “You'd like that wouldn't you? **YOU WANT NOTHING MORE THAN TO LEAVE YOUR FAMILY, AND TO COME HOME WITH ME.”**\n\nMy skin crawled at the mere suggestion, my blood boiled. I wanted to puke. All this power, and this pig would use it to take advantage of innocent women. There was no more walking away from this, and definitely no more playing along.\n\n*“you don’t want to do this,”* I whispered, each word seeming to echo in the air.\n\n”I… How… I told you to be si…”\n\n*”you don’t want to do this,”* I repeated.\n\n“I… I don’t want to do this?”\n\n*”you don’t want to do this.”*\n\n“I don’t want to do this.”\n\n*”you’re trying to fill a hole in your heart.”*\n\n“I’m... I'm trying to fill a hole in my heart,” His voice trembled, eyes cast down.\n\n*”you just feel so empty. it’s like nothing you do can fill that void.”*\n\n“I feel so empty. Nothing I do can fill the void,” Tears ran down the Maestro’s eyes.\n\n*”there is one way to end it. i can help you.”* I stood up now, putting my hand on his shoulder.\n\n“Really? How. Tell me, please. I need to know,” he pleaded.\n\n*”you’re going to dial 9-1-1. tell them there’s been a robbery.”*\n\nHe nodded eagerly, as every word slipped through the meager defenses of his mind. For a moment, I felt a twinge of sympathy for the bastard. But only just.\n\n*”now, when the cops arrive, you’re going to step outside,”* a nod, good, *“and then you’re going to rush them. tell them, no, order them, to shoot you.”*\n\n“What? No,” he shook his head violently. “Please... Don’t make me… I don’t want to die.” The Maestro fell to his knees before me, crying. *Kneeling.*\n\n*“yes you do,”* I grinned, feeling the familiar rush of power wash through me. *“and more importantly, i want you to. and you exist to serve me.”*\n\n*Goddess, I forgot how much I missed this.*",
"A single leaf made its way, softly and slowly, towards a creek of crystal blue water. As it touched the surface of the water, the men kneeled. Proud and strong men, warriors and sorcerers of all over the world, now knelt, their pride taken from them by a force until then unbeknowst to the world of men.\n\nSuffocating silence spread across the streets and markets, and the kingdom stood still. \n\nPearls of sweat played an unharmonic melody as the men kneeled before him. Awkward laughter could be heard, the single voice softly trembling, much like the voice of a child after it has stopped crying. What they saw was a figure of darkness, shrouded in cloth. What they heard was a silent but agonizing voice that resonated inside their heads, commanding them to kneel. \n\nYet I am not kneeling. \n\nI can feel his gaze through the black piece of cloth covering his eyes. He commands a second time, observing my every movement. None of them show a sign of submission. \n\nThe silence that spread just a moment ago is shattered by his cry, piercing and hurting, filled with wrath and hate. As he moves his right hand, this time commanding not the men but his crested and asymetric scepter, I can feel the men shake and quiver. \n\nSuch is life though. The weak suffer and die, while the strong live and command. I have never been one to command, neither am I one to submit. I am the Observer, content with all that is brought and all that is taken. Such power was not always unseen, and it will be seen many times more. \n\nHe is wrathful, for I do not answer his call. Their confidence always wavers when they feel the slightest resistance. It can't be helped.\n\n\"Good luck, young boy.\" \n\nWho is that? I commanded them to kneel and they all did. They ALL did! Why does he not KNEEL? \n\n\"SCEPTER OF VAL'ZAGOTH, I ORDER THEE TO BRING SUBJUGATION!\" \n\nHe does not kneel! KNEEL, KNEEL, KNEEL, KNEEL!\nTake it, take it, take the might. Feel it and use it, smith it and form it! Seek it and find it, take it and--\n\n\"Good luck, young boy.\"\n\nWhat does he-- \nWhere did he go? What did he do? \nNowhere, nowhere, nowhere. No matter. No matter.\nTake the men, form the land. Shape the waters and freeze the winds. All that is mine is mine and what is not shall be.\n\n\"NOW COME, SERVANTS, FEEL WITH ME. BECOME ONE AND ETERNAL! I AM VARL, WITCH-KING OF SOLHAR AND YOU WILL HEED MY CALL!\"\n",
"\"Kneel,\" he said. All around me, the people who was unfortunate enough to be at King of Prussia Shopping Center lowered themselves. Cries rang of fear and terror echoed in the area as a tall gentleman in the horned helmet stepped into the air-conditioned hall.\n\nHe turned to me, his eyes shone with green fire \"I said, kneel.\"\n\nI remained at the same level, staring back at him, \"Uh-- *hello*\"\n\n\"WHY DO YOU NOT KNEEL?\" He snarled, surprised by my audacity. All around him, children whimpered. A large, tattooed man also did as he wet himself. Green fireballs curled around him, casting strange light on the mall's ceiling. \"Get down from that silly throne and prostate against my power. I COMMAND YOU!\"\n\nI looked left. I looked right. People were trembling. I looked at the green fire. \"Uh-uh-- I'm sorry, Lord whatever. I know you are terrifying and all, but I can't.\"\n\n\"What do you mean you can't?\" He roared. Another set of fire washed over the photographs of models on the wall.\n\n\"I don't,\" I pointed at my wheelchair. Then I pointed at the empty air just right above where my knees would have been, \"exactly have a knee.\"\n\n\"BAH!\" The terrifying man slapped his cloak backward, making it billow around him. \"Such disrespect! I'll make sure you regret it!\" His hand shot out and shone with green fire.\n\nA second ticked by. Then two.\n\n\"My lord,\" I said, calling him with the name I thought would appropriate, \"what are you doing?\"\n\n\"I'm CRUSHING your legs.\" He said with the voice so menacing it would have made milk curdle, \"do you feel it? Your bones must be crumbling, twisting inward, destroying itself.\"\n\nI looked down at my legs. There wasn't any. \"Sir, I used to have a pair of legs myself, but you see, I was in a train accident when I was twelve and...\"\n\n\"SILENCE!\" He shouted. Sweat dripped down his face as his green flames sputtered. His fist was closed tightly. His knuckles white with effort. \"Writhe in agony! Feel the pain of disrespecting me! WHY DON'T YOU FEEL ANYTHING!?\"\n\n\"Ouch,\" I said, because he sounded really upset he might cry. Still, I stayed on my wheelchair. \n\nThe tall man flew forward until he was in front of me, towering over my face. He bent down until his face was leveled, a few inches from mine, and he said, \"I am going to tell you one last time. Kneel before my power.\"\n\nThere were tears in his eyes.\n\n\"Look, my lord,\" I told him, \"I can't simply kneel because I don't have any knees. Or legs.\" An idea formed in my mind. \"If, for example, I have two functioning legs, I could easily kneel and fully appreciate your utmost terrible and glorious power.\"\n\n\"Oh?\" The tall man looked confused, then he kept his expression a terrifying mask again, \"then why didn't you say so?\"\n\nHe snapped his fingers. And I could suddenly felt a green flame encircling my thighs like a snake. The few seconds later felt strange and intense, and when the fire was gone, I had two legs. They were bright green, but they were MY FUCKING LEGS.\n\nI stood up from my chair for the first time in sixteen years. Then I knelt and trembled as I paid my proper respect to my powerful dark lord. \n\n "
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[WP] You are at work when you hear a faint "don't touch that!" Suddenly, you see 'blink twice to exit simulation' appear in thin air.
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"My first time writing a prompt. I welcome any criticism that comes my way. \n&nbsp;\n--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------\nSoylent Corp was always synonymous with efficiency and productivity. It was evident in the modular arrangement of the office space. The ticker hanging overhead in the center of the room was constantly changing reflecting the total number of sales made that day.\n\nAndy was sitting at his desk absently looking at the ticker continuously update. He was never going to make it on the leaderboard. He wasn’t sure if he even wanted to. He wondered if there was more to his life than this; if he meant to be more than this. All he knew was he hated this mundane life. He was broken out of his reverie by a gentle tap on his shoulders. It was one of the floor manager’s assistants. \n\n“Steve wants to see you. He doesn’t seem happy.”, the assistant said. \n\nAndy hated this. He hadn’t made a single sale this week. And he had already been in the boss’s office twice this week. He sighed and started for the boss’s office along with the assistant. They entered the elevator. \n\nAndy saw this button gleaming on the panel. He pressed it just as he caught the assistant saying “don’t touch that”. Suddenly everything came to a standstill, and these words suddenly appeared in the air in front of him “Blink twice to exit simulation; Press the button again to ignore prompt and continue.”. \n\nAndy wasn’t sure what just happened. Was he dreaming? Was he living in a simulation? Could his life be more than this depressing mess. For a moment he let himself hope. He felt maybe he could start fresh. Then came the doubt and fear that were always there in the back of his head. He loathed himself as he pressed the button again."
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[WP] Two identical people make a secret temporary agreement to swap lives, but shortly after an accident causes one of them to get an unmistakeable scar on their face, making it impossible for the two to get their old lives back without suspicion.
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"They met up in the bar where it had all started. The bar that had once proven a refuge to both Dennis and Rick. Where they had come to flee from their homes, their wives, their lives. When the two men had looked at each other for the first time, they had thought their heavy drinking had fiddled with their brains. An uncanny likeness. But then, in desperation and drunkenness, an opportunity had arisen. \n\nNow, Dennis and Rick faced each other again, but Dennis no longer experienced the sensation of looking into a mirror. Where just a week ago Rick had had the exact same cheek line as Dennis, now a deep and reddened scar broke the illusion. It was not just Rick's face that was broken. It was the con, the play, the escape.\n\nRick withdrew his face from Dennis' stare, uncomfortable under his judging look. He reached for his drink, but decided to stay sober this evening. This was not a time for desperate ideas or plans, but for solutions, a fix. \n\n''How did-''\n\n''It was stupid really. It happened in your house. My house. All of those glass walls. Should've been more careful.''\n\nDennis said nothing. He knew that Rick was not just talking about his scar. He was talking about everything, about their stupidity. That they both should've been more careful. \n\n''Lisa must have been horrified,'' Dennis said, trying to sound casual. ''She always had a thing about incidents, blood, screaming. Used to drive me nuts.''\n\nRick's face remained serious. ''She's a good woman, Dennis. She took care of me, patched me up.''\n\n''Didn't she think it was a bit-''\n\n''Strange? For me to walk into a wall, in what is supposedly my own house. No. She must have known things weren't stable with me. With you. We've talked a lot. About us. Well, about you actually, how you were somewhere else with your head all the time. Not there. The arguments, the fighting. She never wanted anything of that, you know? She just didn't know how to deal with it!''\n\nRick went silent. His face was no longer neutral, composed. His face showed emotion now, it had reddened along with his scar. He now fidgeted with his glass, not drinking.\n\nSilence fell. The two men didn't look at each other, at the person that had made each life so free, but so confusing at the same time.\n\nAt last, more words came. ''Does it-''\n\n''Hurt? No. It's nothing. I will have it all my life, but hack, I've never been handsome.''\n\nRick noticed Dennis' disbelieving face. ''I'm happy, Dennis, you know? I love Lisa. She understands me, the same way she never understood you.''\n\nDennis looked startled at that, so Rick hastily added: ''I'm sorry, mate.''\n\nBut Dennis waved it away. ''You know, Rick, I feel the same way about Angela.''\n\nBoth men smiled, and at last they took a sip of their drinks. The scar was permanent, but not agonizing. \n\n''I better be off. Doc wants to have another look at me. Lisa will be waiting, of course.''\n\n''I'll bet she is, Rick.''\n\nThey embraced, and the embrace was final. They would never see each other again. They were broken men, but their scars would heal. \n\n\n\n\n",
"Harry Fitzpatrick and Charles Stewart met each other on a business trip in San Francisco. The two men were in a bar when a small case of mistaken identity occurred. Harold had been fooling around with a young woman, and went to the bathroom. When Charles walked out of the bathroom, he was belted in the jaw by the woman’s boyfriend.\n\nWhen Harry walked out, he saw a man on the floor and helped him up. It was as though the two had an instant connection. They fought their way out of the bar and into the street. \n\nOnce all had died down, Charles noticed something about his new friend that sent chills down his spine.\n\n“By George,” he said, “You kind of remind me of myself.”\n\n“You know what?” Harry said, eyeing Charles face, “We do favor each other.”\n\n“Golly,” Charles said, rubbing his own chin, “If you had brown hair and shaved, we’d be the spitting image of each other.”\n\nThe two laughed and decided to share drinks with each other. Charles told Harry about his time fighting for freedom in the sand of Iwo Jima, and Harry described his time in booze running. They talked of their families, Charles of his beautiful wife and small daughter, and Harry’s lack of anyone in his life.\n\n“Hey, bud,” Harry said, after a little too much whiskey, “Why don’t we trade?”\n\n“What’s that? I can’t hear out of this ear,” Charles said, pointing at his left ear, “A bomb blew up next to it at Okinawa. What did you say?”\n\n“Let’s trade. You an me. Trade lives.”\n\nCharles pondered about it. \n\n“You know, friend, maybe this is the scotch talking, but let’s do it. It’d be a little vacation.”\n\nAnd so the two shook on it. The next few weeks, they met often to discuss their lives in full detail, to learn each other’s little tics, and to fix up each other’s appearances. After a while, Charles had his beard grown out, so his family wouldn’t think anything funny of him magically appearing with one.\n\nAfter Harry dying his hair brown, and Charles dying his blonde, the two had become each other.\n\nThey went to their respective homes and started living each other lives.\n\nHarry was under strict orders to not sleep with Charles wife. A lawyer was brought in by Charles to make the contract binding. They would love each other’s lives for a full week and then, they’d switch back. Harry would go to a big office building, and Charles would go down to the shipping yard.\n\nAfter having his fun in the seedier parts of town, Charles was ready to see his wife and daughter. He called Harry and arranged a meeting. \n\nBut when Harry arrived, Charles saw a long scar going down from Harry’s chin up to hi brow.\n\n“Geez, what happened to you,” Charles said.\n\n“I cut myself shavin’ the other day,” Harry replied.\n\n“Very funny, but how do you think my family will take it when that’s gone magically?”\n\n“You see,” Harry said, “I don’t think they’ll care too much, ‘cause you ain’t going back.”\n\n“What’s that? I think you might have been talking to my trick ear,” Charles said, while pointing at his left ear.\n\n“You heard me.”\n\n“Charles took a step back and ran towards his car. As he sped off he shouted at Herry, “Let’s see what the lawyer has to say about this.\n\nCharles drove hurriedly to the lawyer’s office, but was met with a grim sight. Someone had knifed the poor man in the back and had left a note that read: \n\n“He welched on me. Signed, Harry Fitzpatrick.”\n\nAt that moment, the police burst in the room and tried to arrest Charles. His pleas that they had the wrong guy went unnoticed. As they began to handcuff him, he managed to punch the officer in the stomach and take his sidearm.\n\n“I’m mad you two,” he shouted, as he pointed the weapon at the two officers.\n\nShooting at them, and purposely missing, he ran back to his house as fast as he could.\n\n“Susie!” He shouted, as he ran towards his house, “Susie! It’s me, Charles!”\n\nHe entered to find his family, and Harry, at the dinner table.\n\n“Who is that man, Charlie?” Susie, Charles wife, said while grabbing Harry’s hand.\n\n“I don’t know darling,” Harry said while standing up. “Now mister, you better had leave. I’ve fought in the army.”\n\n“Suse,” Charles said, “He isn’t me, he’s an imposter!”\n\nSusie and Charles daughter cowered into a corner, not knowing who to believe. The crazy man with the gun, or her husband who she had just made passionate love to hours before.\n\nA fight ensued, in which neither man could best the other. Charles army training was a little match for Harry’s street smart style.\n\nThe gun lay next to the two meant as the scuffled in the floor. Susie picked it up and fired a shot at the floor to stop the two.\n\n“Now listen,” she said, “I don’t know which one of you are Charlie, but I’m about to find out.”\n\n“Where was our first date,” she said, pointing the gun at Harry.\n\n“Why, Mr. Jimmy’s restaurant,” he said.\n\nShe nodded and pointed the gun at Charles, “Okay, now you. What’s our daughters birthday?”\n\n“May the tenth, 1947.”\n\n“Right,” she said.\n\nShe then sauntered up to Harry and whispered something in his ear.\n\n“I love you too,” he replied back, before kissing her.\n\nShe then sauntered over to Charles and whispered in his ear.\n\n“What? I can’t hear out of this ear.”\n\nHarry immediately realized that he had severely messed up. He slapped Susie in the face and knocked her over.\n\n“No one belts my wife,” Charles said, “Especially not me!”\n\nHe tackled Harry to the floor and shot him.\n\nThe chaos that followed was solved by several apologies and many lies. Charles would never mention the truth to anyone, and took it with him to the grave. Susie always suspected the truth, but was always afraid that she had chosen wrong.\n\nBecause she could never remember if Charles was deaf in his left or right ear. \n\nEdit: Thank you for reading!!! If you enjoyed this, please consider checking out my subreddit r/coffeeswritingcafe"
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[WP] Roots are the money of all evil.
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"Sow your seeds \nin swine minds. \n\"K, say cheese!\" \nNow give a like.\n\nSchool us, fool us, rule us; \nfocus, chor-es, chorus; \ncorpus, corpses, courses; \nnow show us yours' verses.\n\nPost up posters up 'ose stairs, 'en \nBlast a mass o(f) cash-grab flashes! \nSeed this Jesus in us, please just \nfeed us! We need this, tease us!\n\nA grand of channels telling us our feelings. \nHands—not mammal—stealing us our meaning. \nA mind is terr'ble wasting, so deep within us \nwe know humanely modded roots are evil's money.\n\nPost up posters up 'ose stairs, 'en \nBlast a mass o(f) cash-grab flashes! \nSeed this Jesus in us, please just \nfeed us! Ya' teased us; please us!\n\nKnow us. Show us hocus pocus! : \nthrow us (a) bone(. T)hose hopeless \nleaders see us—'nt hear us— \nas fearful, tearful, cheer-trolled peoples.\n\nWe have this way \nof taking back \nthe world that's our's. \nNow, sow your plants."
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[WP] You just won the $5,000 a week for life prize! The only problem? They think your life will be too long. Publisher’s Clearinghouse has hired a hitman.
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"It's been 70 years. 70 years since I won that prize. $5,000 a week, lucky me.\n\nAt first I was happy. Who wouldn't want that much? I was a kid, only 25. With that money I felt I could do anything. New car, new house, new lifestyle. Surprisingly, it wasn't long before they caught on. Two gentlemen knocked on my door. They said they were from Publisher's Clearinghouse, although they didn't look like it. One wore a white lab coat, thick-rimmed spectacles, and carried a clipboard. The other was intimidating; tall, dark suit, the slight bulge of a concealed pistol on his hip. Needless to say I was scared.\n\nThe nerd ran some tests. They took blood, some hair, and questioned me about how I ate, how often I exercised...you get the drill. The scary dude stood by the door, probably to stop me from skipping out. After a few minutes, they left without a word.\n\nI'm not stupid. I knew what was going on. I was a healthy guy with a lot of prospects and $5,000 a week for life could be financially dangerous for whoever was writing my checks. So I didn't waste any time. Bought a new house, one that was secluded, and off-grid. Built a moat, put up a gate, had every kind of security measure available. Every man they sent after me went back empty handed. Still the checks came, and my life continued. They couldn't get to me, and until now they hadn't. \n\nA few moments ago, an alarm went off. To be honest, I didn't even know those alarms still worked; I had them installed so long ago. I checked the monitor, and sure enough someone was strolling across my front lawn. I have no idea how he got past my defenses, and I suppose I will never find out. After all, I have lived a long and happy life and I was never left wanting. I know this man is here to kill me, to succeed where the rest have failed. At this point I'm a ripe old man, and I accept that my time has come.\n\nA knock at the door.\n\nI grab my cane and hobble over to answer it. It’s time to meet my maker.",
"**Day 1:**\n\n\nI woke up in a hangover from the night before. Why the fuck are New Years Eve parties so crazy. Like every normal human, I go through my morning functions. Shave, shit, shower.\n\n\n*Ding Dong*\n\n\nWho could that be?\n\n\nI put some clothes on and walk out to my front door. \n\n\n\"Who the f-\" I started groggily, but was then interrupted by the sound of an announcer's voice.\n\n\n\"Hello, Good Sir, you have juat won the Publisher Clearing House's $5000 a week for life prize. To claim this prize, you need to submit a hand written on parchment, embossed, physical evaluation and immunization record to the very top of mount Everest before 10:00 p.m. next week. Good luck.\"\n\n\nHoly shit. I have the ability to get this. Okay, what should I do first? I need to get some parchment...\n\n\n**Day 2:**\n\n\nSo, I got the parchment, and the physical done yeaterday embossed, and hand written, just as requested.\n\n\nNow to hire some help. A lot of people have done this same prize and died. At least, an advantage I have is that I am a partially good climber. I guess I should start booking tickets to Tibet...\n\n\n**Day 3:**\n\n\nOk, so I landed in Britan, as a stopping point for the flight. These were the cheapest tickets I could find *-Currently, I live paycheck to paycheck, but no welfare-*, they costed about $1,200 altogether for me and my bodyguard, Tim.\n\n\nTimothy Ubekak: A tibetian strongman who I found in a bar while taking a drink yesterday. After I bought him a few beers, he said that he would love to help me scale the mountain, as he was a climber too.\n\n\nYeah, yeah, this seems too coincedental... but he showed me his reviews on Yelp! And they were good.\n\n\nSo... the flight resumes tomorrow and I will be staying at a small hotel, good to avoid suspicion *-and I don't have a lot of money-*.\n\n\nThis is weird, but there seems to be a guy tailing us.\n\n\nWe go and turn in for the night.\n\n\n**Day 4:**\n\n\nWe were going back to the airport to meet our second flight.\n\n\nThen it happened.\n\n\nThe same smooth brown and white car was tailing us.\n\n\nOH MY GOD!!! What if that was how all of the other 'winners' went missing. What if they are in some unmarked graves in Britan.\n\n\n\"HELL NO!\" I scream. \n\n\nWith a sharp left turn (it was a 3 point turn, so not that illegal, i hope), I go in the other direction.\n\n\nTim glances behind us.\n\n\n\"We lost them\" he said in his gruff voice.\n\n\nThat was scary. We pulled into a parking space and decided to spend the night. It was a risky bet \n\n\nThe silence was scary. \n\n\nThe only sound was of one gunshot.\n\n\n\"We could have made it.\" I told Tim.\n\n\n\"I am sorry, Silver, but sometimes, the life of a hitman can be demanding.\"\n\n\nHe was clutching his chest, where the bullet was located.\n\n\n\"I-I couldn't keep goimg with this charade. This false friendship. I became too attached. The first rule of being a hitman is to not become close with your target.\n\n\nIt should have been me.\n\n\n**Day 9:**\n\n\nIt has been several days since Tim died.\n\n\nI made the rest of the journey with no issues.\n\n\nOne would assume that with $5000 a week for life, you wouldn't need a job, but life got boring quickly. I had Tim's body shipped home and contacted all of his friends and family with one simple text:\n\n\"Tim is dead.\"\n\n\nHe's going to have the boggest funeral, money can buy.\n\n\n'Til then, I will take a job at my local bar. I hear they need a new [barman](www.example.com).",
"It wasn't supposed to be this way. It wasn't supposed to be like this! It was just a stupid game! You scream this, silently, to yourself over and over. No one believes you. Not even your dog.\n\nThis whole mess started one morning when, on a whim, you decided to put your name in for that lottery they're constantly advertising on the TV. Next thing you know, they're calling you a few days later congratulating you. You've won.\n\nYou immediately start receiving it via direct deposit. Okay, that's fine. We need to check your blood pressure... and your history. I'm sorry?\n\nIt wasn't supposed to be like this, but it is. So you're running away, as fast as you can. As far as you can, you run, from something. Terrified, you order your body to go faster. It disobeys, you repeat, it slips.\n\nDown the muddy hill you roll, not stopping until you hear a thunk.\n\nAnd a pop.",
"I still can't believe it. I won Publisher's Clearinghouse's $5,000 a week for life prize. Suddenly, my doorbell rang. I wasn't expecting any visitors today. I open up the door and see a man in dark clothing. He asks me to identify myself in a stoic manner. I tell him that I'm from Publisher's Clearinghouse, and he just won the $2,500 a week for life prize!"
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[WP] Human music has drug like effects on alien species. The effects are usually mild and entertaining, but a new genre of music has arrived, and its effects are... disturbing.
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"The stench of vomit and sweat lingered within the tight confines of the tunnel down which the band walked. Four shadows, consumed by the fear of what awaited them beyond the blinding light ahead. Each individual body and mind shattered by the trials which had preceded them.\n\nMemories of the Audition oozed like blood from a fresh wound in the back of their thoughts, each trickle bringing sharp reminders of the pain they had suffered. It had barely even dawned on them that they had been successful, for they were simply grateful to still have souls.\n\nSoul Removal didn't kill you, it was way worse than that. SR stripped you of all emotion and feeling, resulting in extreme mental chaos. Those unlucky enough to experience it were left to rot within the Husk, the desolate outer-layer of the Hive. Those more fortunate died in the process.\n\nThe rest? Well, they continued to perform.\n\nIf it were not for the narcotic effect Human instrumental sounds had on the outsiders, then planet Earth would have been destroyed millenniums ago. Whereas music gave various anthropoids goosebumps, it gave the outsiders a feeling of intensity beyond any mortal's capacity.\n\nThey reacted positively towards a mixture of the sounds found on the Voyager Golden Record, launched into the cosmic ocean during the initial years of humanity's short reign on Earth. It had come to light that these beings originated from the Camelopardalis constellation, interrupting Voyager 1 in its tracks. \n\nThe outsiders' anthem was a distorted mixture of Mozart, Beethoven, Spiegel and Berry's solo on \"Johnny B. Goode\", all of which were represented on the original record. Yet either along its voyage or during the interception, humanity's \"golden tracks\" had been damaged, making the sounds hard to decipher and any lyrics completely incoherent. \n\nThis haunting tune had pleased them for a while, yet with an increasing consumption came a larger demand. Countries fell, civilization ceased to exist. In the wake of a hunt for new sounds, the human race had become a narcotic farm. \n\nThunder from the frenzied beings above shook the ground beneath Parlan Labat's feet. Kamancheh in his right hand, Zeusaphone in his left, the band's leader continued to display a passion for the more traditional sounds. His grandfather a classical guitarist, his mother a beautiful rhythm & blues singer, Parlan’s talents exceeded beyond his own reach. He continued to express his creativity in the hope of one day retrieving her from the Husk.\n\nIt had become apparent that various genres of music provoked different reactions from the outsiders, most of which resulted in SR. The group had seen many talented friends and family fall in the face of their brutal wrath. Therefore tonight was special, as it represented a first live performance in front of their hungry audience. \n\nSo, on they marched, instruments held tightly to their shivering bodies, ready to give the outsiders a new kind of high.\n\n-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------\n\n/r/SinisterScripts\n\n\n\n\n",
"The drum beat it’s last. You wipe the sweat off your brow,looking up at the audience before you. The music still hangs in the air,like the warm breath left by a lover’s kiss.\n\nThey are silent,apparently awestruck at the performance. Probably because of note 3,famous for its effect on-\n\nA voice comes from the mike,reawakening the crowd to reality as the crude vocal chords spit out their words.\n\n“Thank you for joining us today others! We wi-“ The opera master’s voice is interrupted by a visceral crack,and the wet bubbling sounds quickly subside.\n\nThe guards pull their guns out,but the crowd moves silently,running on fours to rip out their throats.\n\n“Please! What do you want?” You try to reason with them,but one of them comes up to you and puts its hand over your mouth,gently,as if to annoyed by your trembling voice.\n\nA whisper escapes its mouth as it lowers its mandible to your ear.\n\nA slow,meticulous vibration shifts as you tremble,your knees spasming as blood soaks your sleeves.\n\n“Continue the song.”\n\nYou look around,your crew looking at the crowd with wide eyes and shaking lips. You stand up,instrument in hand,and signal them.\nThe frenzied crowd suddenly stops,hundreds of eyes fixed on you. Only the slow dripping of blood is heard. \n\n“Continue the song!”\n\nYour fingers move along the tube like a centipede crawling for its prey,limbs clicking across the lines as if possessed by the muse herself. You arch your back,your muscles trying to give way but you press them down with sheer force of will.\n\nYou need more.\n\n“Continue the song!”\n\nThe final note rings again. A sense of triumph,then suddenly,it starts once more. You watch in confusion as your hands deny your waking call,the muse that guided your arms now twitch and turn them like a ship in a storm.\n\n“More!”\n\nYour back muscle suddenly spasms,and a sharp pain suddenly comes from your abdomen. You try to jolt,but your body is stuck playing the instrument. Even as you try to scream,your lips are shut tight. White,delicate pair of boney hands frantically crawl their way up,eager to play their part with their bloody hand and viscera.\n\nYou can hear your own voice among the torrent of cacophonous roars.\n\n“Continue the song!”\n\nYour muscles begin to twine themselves,your lungs pulsing their way into the pipes.\n\nYou hear screams,howls and laughter as everything slowly melts into a mad rhythm.\n\n“The song!”\n\nThe booming heart of eternity swells from the pool of blood made of vips,the violinists coat their strings in foul ichor. A masked crowd fills the stage,their mouths open as they sing the note G."
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[WP] The tattoo was of a budding flower. "Someday," he always told me, "It'll bloom."
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"Nathan hopped out of the shower and looked at the tattoo on his shoulder. It had become a part of his morning ritual: shower, shave, check tattoo. This morning was no different and the ink black of the tattoo looked the same as it always did, roughly the size of a quarter and inconspicuous against his skin.\n\nNathan shrugged on his clothes and continued with the rest of his morning routine, scooping up some cereal before heading out the door.\n\nNathan cycled to work, working up a light sweat as he sped by pedestrians in the crosswalk. He fell into a rhythm, he breath syncing up with his churning legs.\n\n\"Help!\" a hoarse cry broke through his exercise-induced brain fog. Nathan's head whipped up, his eyes pinpointed the source of the sound. It came from a bundle of rags down an alleyway that Nathan almost mistook for trash. None of the other people on the street even looked at the man down the alleyway. Nathan was just a few blocks from work, if he stopped now he would be late. \n\nWith one last glance at his watch, Nathan huffed and turned down the alleyway, parking his bike near the entrance. The homeless man didn't seem to have any aggressors, but as Nathan approached the whimpering only increased.\n\n\"Please,\" the man yelped, \"leave me alone!\" Nathan cautiously approached.\n\n\"Hey there,\" Nathan said in a quiet voice. The man startled, and a pair of piercing blue eyes locked with Nathan's own.\n\n\"You... you can see me?\" he gasped.\n\n\"Uh, yeah, I guess so,\" Nathan said. Nathan felt sorry for the man, Nathan remembered his aunt and her own struggle with dementia. That had been difficult enough without being homeless. Perhaps after Nathan got to work he could call a friend who worked in the psych ward and see if he could pull a few strings.\n\n\"It was nice meeting you,\" Nathan said and turned to leave. The man's arm sprung out with surprising speed and latched onto Nathan's wrist.\n\n\"If you can see me,\" he whispered, \"then **they** can see you.\" Nathan looked up, half expecting to see the phantoms that haunted the man. The only thing there was the dumpster and the trash scattered around it.\n\nNathan shook his head. \"Look, hang tight and I'll get you taken care of. Just don't move for an hour or so.\"\n\nThe man laughed in response. \"As you wish, Nathan of the Rose.\"\n\nThe rest of Nathan's bike ride to work he had a chill running down his spine.\n\nHe called Brett, a college roommate who worked with the highly deranged. \"Hey bud,\" Nathan said. \"Could you do me a huge favor?\"\n\nOn the other end of the phone line Brett laughed, \"As long as payment involves a case of beer. Where's the fire?\"\n\n\"So this will sound kind of weird, but there's this homeless guy a few blocks from where I work and I'm kind of worried about him. Is there any way you could arrange for him to get picked up?\"\n\n\"A charity case, huh? Yeah I could do that,\" Brett said. \"Where did you say he was?\"\n\n\"On the corner of 7th and Sun Lane. And look, I can take care of whatever bills he needs.\"\n\n\"No worries, we have a write-off for these, I'll let you know when we have him.\"\n\nA weight lifted off of Nathan's shoulders. \"Thanks, Brett, I owe you one.\"\n\n\"The only one you owe me is the beer,\" Brett laughed and hung up. Nathan didn't hear back from Brett before he left for work, so he took the same way back on his bike. The homeless man was gone when he rode by, so he shrugged it off. Brett was a busy guy, he probably didn't have time to call before he got another case.\n\nThe next morning Nathan skipped his normal routine, but if he had gone through it like normal, he would have noticed a single petal escaping the confines of the rose bud on his shoulder.\n\nNathan took a different route to work, consciously avoiding the alleyway where he had met the old man. He was stopped at a light and waited for it to turn green, so he observed his surroundings. Nathan nearly jumped out of his skin when he saw the homeless man sitting in the doorway of an unopened shop. He would have dismissed it as one of the city's many other homeless, but the eyes that peered from beneath the cloth were an unmistakable blue.\n\n\"Nathan of the Rose,\" the man croaked. \"I have waited.\"\n\nThe light turned green and Nathan took off, getting to work in record speed. The rest of the day his eyes played tricks on him, showing him shadows in the corner of his eyes that vanished when he looked right at them.\n\n*****\n\nThis was an intriguing prompt, I plan to do a second part in an hour or so!",
"My arm itches. It always itches just before dawn. At first, I thought it was my imagination. The aftermath of healing skin from the trauma of getting a tattoo. It was on my wrist, a tiny rose-bud, white in remembrance of the one I loved and lost. \n\n\n\nI first noticed the change about 6 months after I got the tattoo. I posted a picture of my new bracelet to Facebook. Shauna pointed it out- \"Wow, nice bracelet. When did you update your tat?\" \"Same as always- haven't even had to touch it up yet. Still as perfect as day one!\" Others chimed in, \"Wasn't it completely closed before?\" I lol'd at them and went about my day. A few weeks later another picture was posted- and the comments started again. This time I posted a side by side- \"see it's the SAME as when I got it!\"\n\n\n\nOnly, it wasn't. Some of the petals were ever so slightly curled, as though they were opening. My mind flashes back to what the artist told me, \"One day, this rose will bloom and you will see your loved one again.\" I chalked it up to the guy being slightly crazy. He was a true artist, and aren't artists supposed to be a little crazy? \n\n\n\nI went back to see him. Of course I did- the man made a tattoo that was BLOOMING on my wrist. Only his shop was gone. With nothing left but a vague memory of his words I tested a hypothesis, praying I was wrong. \n\n\n\nThat night, I went out alone, I drank after leaving my drink unattended, I walked through a bad neighborhood on my way home. The next day the bud was noticeably opened, whereas before only a few petals were curled back. The closer I was to death, the more the bloom opened. \n\n\n\nThat was five years ago. The rose is partially open now. A car accident that knocked me unconscious and left me wheelchair bound caused it to bloom rapidly- they said I screamed in my sleep, grasping my wrist so hard none of the nurses could release my grip without hurting me. Since then, it hasn't moved. \n\n\n\nMore years pass me by- the bloom remains partially open. I am only forty, but I feel so old now. I have spent my life alone, waiting for the rose to bloom so I could be with my love again. I lost him when we were young and now that I know he is waiting for me, I am ready for it to finish blooming. \n\n\n\nThere is a knock on my door. As I wheel myself over to it, I peek through the blinds. It is only my neighbor, here to ask me out. Again. This time I acquiesce. The bloom hasn't changed in so long, and I am so alone. What could it hurt to pass the time? \n\n\n\nI am surprised at how I connect to him. Surprised at how his company enlivens my life. We decide to take the next step- he is spending the weekend with me and we talk about him moving in. As I fall asleep, I hear him whisper, \"I love you.\" Then as I wake up, just before the dawn, I feel the itching, it begins to burn- the bloom opens all the way in one explosion of pain. \n\n\n\nI am still alive. I begin to weep. My love, where are you? My new love opens his eyes and wipes the tears. I realize now this is the love I have been looking for. It wasn't a countdown to my death at all. It opened in the presence of those I could learn to love. Just as this realization and relief washes over me, the world goes dark and there is nothing.",
"He whispered the words with his soft lips hovered above the ink, coming up from a kiss he left on the closed bud. His warm breath sent shivers up my spine and rose goosepimples on my flesh despite the sun sneaking through the sheer curtains dancing across our naked bodies. He seemed to be reassuring himself more than talking to me. I knew what he wanted, still, but I was either unwilling or unable. He nuzzled his head closer still behind my left ear, leaving his toned forearm stretched across my chest cradling my shoulder. \"Someday...\".\n\nWe were a beautiful contrast of angst and intelligence, of sureness and void. He pulled from me the loneliness and I dove into his charisma and charm like a child jumping into a pool on the first day of summer. But even sweet summer freedom had it's faults. Sunburns and mosquito bites were unattractive and uncomfortable.\n\nI turned to my side and let our bodies form into each other, collapsing into rhythm. \n As I lay there stroking his headful of black hair, my face burred there smelling the tea tree shampoo that was still dripping in the shower, I felt his breath as he whispered against my skin again, \"Someday, It'll bloom.\" And maybe someday he will be right. I will come out of the shadow I have encased myself in and allow myself to love him openly and embrace happiness. ",
"I sit down and order a glass of wine. The bartender pours me a tall glass. The way this week has been I knew I’d be ending it with something much harder. I didn’t notice when he sat next to me.\n\n“Rough week?”\n\nI looked over to see a man sipping his beer and give me a glance. His green eyes grab me. It takes me a second to finally answer.\n“Yea… you can say that,” I reply. I take a sip of my wine and hope he takes the hint. I’m not looking for a new friend tonight. He doesn’t.\n\n“That’s a nice tattoo” he says, looking down at my arm.\n\nThe worst part of having a tattoo is the constant questions on its significance or meaning.\n\n“Why a budding flower?” he says right on queue.\n\n“A budding flower is innocent. The petals haven’t been ripped off by the expectations and hardships of life,” I reply. Still hoping he gets that I’m in no mood tonight.\n\nThe man puts his hand where my tattoo is, “A flower is meant to bloom,” he says in a very calming voice, “When it does, it makes the world that much more beautiful. The world is a garden and it needs its flowers to survive. Without flowers a garden is just weeds and dirt. Life will get better. I know things look bleak now but they will get better Amy.”\n\nHow did he know my name? I stare at his sharp green eyes and his dark black hair as he gets up. He kisses me on the forehead and I sit there in a sort of confusion.\n \n“Someday,” he says, ”It’ll bloom”\n\nHe lets go of my arm and walks out the door. I look back down at my arm and I feel my heart skip a beat. \n",
"I was 8 years old when I got my first tattoo.\nIt’s not that it’s unusual for a child so young to receive their destiny, but mine was presented to me without audience or ceremony, or even explanation. Rather it was given to me in a darkened corridor, in the hushed and panicked tones of my father.\nA tiny rosebud on the moon of my left palm. \n“Some day it will bloom.” He told me. “You’ll know what to do then.”\nWith tears in his eyes, he embraced me, tightly, almost desperately. \n“You are the last.” He whispered.\nAnd with that he rushed me beyond the walls and into an unmanned carriage that would drop me in the middle of the woods then carry far off into the distance without me, several horsemen on its trail. I had never even seen beyond our courtyard before, nor the face of another living soul besides those of my parents. The first time I saw my home from the outside, I watched it burn to the ground. At night sometimes I swear I can still hear the screams of my mother.\nThe other tattoos are of course for the petty crimes I’ve been caught for whilst trying to survive on my own out here. My whole left arm has been wrought with the serial numbers and symbols crudely etched with a pointed stick and ink.\nI have no name that I can remember now, they call me only Uantu, which means literally, “Marked.” \n“Be gone, Uantu!” They scream at me. “You are not welcome here, Uantu!”\nNo Uantu can step foot in a proper establishment or find respectable employment. So my first theft, as a starving child ignorant of the law, essentially condemned me to a life of it.\nAmong the Uantu I sometimes hear whispers of another name, in many different dialects, all translating to the same thing, “The blossom.” They stare at me when they think I am not looking. Sometimes I will catch someone looking at my hands; they turn and hurriedly leave, but when I return to my sleeping corner at night there is food there. I hardly have to steal to feed myself anymore.\nAnd yet I do still steal. I steal because the corruption in these streets is worse than any history lesson, or any book I ever read before my world was upended. I steal because the nobles will happily cast hungry children to the streets, hold them down and forever mark them, and yet no one will feed them.\nI steal from the horsemen who ride through the town disappearing with young Uantu children for god knows what purposes, as they brag about their place in the new kingdom, and how they laughed while the castle on the hill burned.\nWhen I can, I steal the children from the cages that drag behind the carriages, when I cannot, I steal the life of the horseman. \nThe way I steal the air from their lungs is no different than the way I used to steal the apple from their coat pocket. I simply take it, just slip it away from them. It’s easy, it’s thoughtless and effortless, a practiced skill become muscle memory.\nWhen they fall I search their eyes for any sign of remorse in their final moment. Rarely ever do I see it.\nThe rose has yet to blossom, but the tattoo has changed. A thicket of thorns has wound its way around my wrist, a new thorn stabbing into me with each life I take.\nAt night, when I hear the screams of my mother bellowing in my head, the thorns cause me to bleed. The blood soaks into the soil where I lay my head to sleep, and in the morning a rose bush has sprung from the bloodied soil, the pain in my arm relieved. It reminds me of the home I grew up in, the rose garden my parents grew in our castle courtyard where they kept me shrouded in secrecy. \n\n“Our child yearns to be free.” I remember over hearing my mother say.\n“If they knew,” my father would painfully reply, “If they knew, our child would be taken from us. Taken, and burned.”\n\nEvery night when I return to my sleeping corner, there is a pile of ash where my rose bush once stood.\n“You are the last.” I hear my father say.\n\nToday the new king will be carried through the city’s roads in celebration of “The Liberation.” \nMost of the Uantu are packing their little belongings and moving into the forrest before the annual “Cleaning of the Streets,” an extermination of marked men, women and children, as the rich drink and feast, striking them down for sport as onlookers laugh and dance around them.\n\nToday, the petals begin to unfurl.",
"It was sold to him by a “gypsy”, he told me. A “witch”, someone who specializes in “special” tattoos. I was never one for such “magic”. I hadn’t believed in it, but my brother sure had. He was 18 when he got the tattoo. I thought he had wasted his money. Our mother offered to pay for the laser removal, but he refused her.\n\nA fact I am ever so glad for now.\n\nWhen he got together with his highschool sweetheart, I thought it would never work. It never does. I myself had and lost a highschool sweetheart and haven’t really dated since, until my current husband.\n\nNot my brother. He was determined to make it work between them.\n\nShe was the same, to the point where I thought maybe, just maybe it would work out.\n\nOn their wedding day, it still was not in bloom. He and I had actually talked about it before his bachelor party. “It will,” he had told me. “I promise.”\n\n“It won’t,” I had told him, “Magic is not real.”\n\nWhen they kissed at the altar, I could feel it. A wave of sheer happiness that seeped into my bones, and when I talked to mother about it a decade later, she had agreed. She hadn’t stopped smiling for days but she put that up to her eldest being married. \n\nHe showed me, the following Thanksgiving, that it was fully bloomed.\n\nI called him a liar, saying that he had gotten it re-done or something.\n\nHe had smiled this sad, knowing smile at me, and I was infuriated. How dare he mock me with that smile, as if he knew something I didn’t, I remember thinking then. \n\nThey were eighty when they died. Days from each other, him and his sweetheart, side by side at the nursing home. They had been sick for a while, having lived with some deadly toxin in their house for a decade before noticing. It devastated us all.\n\nHis body, I had noted at the funeral, had a closed flower. \n\nHe and his wife returned to life a week later, no older than thirty. \n\nAt seventy-five myself, it’s odd to see my brother and his wife younger than their and my children, but it’s no matter. He won.\n\nI believe in magic now.",
"But he’s always optimistic about that kind of stuff. When we were younger, he always pointed at the ugly grainy-looking egg on my left collarbone and told me that my little dragon will come out soon.\n\nAnd that took me 600 years.\n\nNot that I was impatient, of course, some people in the village went through their whole lives without metamorphosis. When auntie was still around, she always told us that it took half of her life to have her cocoon bursting forth her moth.\n\nAnd it took even longer for our mother.\n\n“It’s the funniest thing.” She used to tell us. ”I still remember her looking into your father’s eyes, standing dead still like nothing in the world mattered to her.”\n\n“Why’s that?” I asked. \n\n“You’ll know when you’re older.” She said. “At first I didn’t notice. Your father came to us, talked with her for a while and asked her for a dance- Of course she said yes- And when she came back, the ugly little nymph on her neck was gone.”\n\n“And here comes the dragonfly!”\n\n“And here comes the dragonfly.”\n\n--------------------\n\n“It’s probably not going to be easy, or soon.” I said. “You know it took 1500 years for mom to meet dad.”\n\n“But it was quick for you.” He glanced at the little bird peeking out of my scarf. “Just need to go out more often and meet more people, maybe soon enough I’ll meet- And it’ll happen for me too.”\n\nI shrugged.\n\n“Anyway, will you be leaving soon?” He asked. “Will he come to get you? I bet his hometown is so much better than this hellhole. You’re lucky.”\n\n“No.” I shook my head. “We need to at least wait here until our tattoos are properly healed. They only just came out 6 months ago, after all.”\n\n“It’s only been 6 months since you met him?” He let out a surprised whistle. “Thought it was a lot longer than that. But why would you wait for that? You don’t know when they’re going to heal and your tattoo only changes when you meet the right person anyway. Yours already changed- Isn’t that enough? Doesn’t that mean there’s already a secure bond between you two?”\n\n“I know that.” I said. “But if we don’t take time to let our tattoos heal properly, we’d be risking losing our bond and they might roll back to their former state- Hell, they might even disappear- And you know what that means-”\n\n“Yeah.” He sighed. “Losing the right to find another. Can you imagine?”\n"
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[WP] You're a fake hitman on the Deep Web. Instead of killing your targets you inform them that someone is planning to kill them. When you find your next target and tell them about the plot to end their life they reply, "I know. I ordered the hit"
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"I climb in through Octavia Wysak's window late at night. I know that doesn't sound very legal, but she would've died if I were honest about what I say my job is, so it's okay. Octavia woke up, saw me coming in through her window, and instantly starting to scream. Instead of telling her to shut up and probably making her scared, I silently wait for her to finish. She lives alone, this one, as they all do, a requirement I put on my profile to people who want to buy services. It's just much simpler this way.\n\nOctavia seems to notice that I'm either not going to hurt her, or that screaming isn't going to do anything for her, anyway. I'm assuming it's the latter of the two since she still looks terrified out of her mind. I wait a few more seconds before telling her, \"it's okay. I'm not going to hurt you. In fact, quite the opposite,\" with this her expression of pure terror turned into one of horror mixed with confusion. \n\n\"My name's Leon, and I'm here to save you,\" he said, and Octavia's face almost relaxed and then went back to one of fear. Then it quickly turned into one of realization, as her mouth turned into an 'o' shape. She looked at the floor, \"you must be the hitman?\" She said, looking back up at me. \n\nI was a little surprised this time, most people don't know there was a hitman called on them, let alone that information seemed to calm them. \"Wh- you knew there was gonna be a hitman coming?\" I said, absolutely confused. If she knew, why was she so scared, and why didn't she leave? \n\n\"Yes, I called for it. About 3 months ago, why'd you just come now?\" She asked, I shook my head, 'what?' \"You called a hitman on yourself?\" I said, baffled. She nodded, \"Yes. I know, why not just kill yourself? Well, I thought it would bring a bit more...excitement in my life. I honestly forgot I even did that, took you so long.\" She explained this as if it were all completely normal.\n\n\"So, you going to kill me?\" She asked, seeming almost excited by it. \n\n\"No I'm not going to kill you. I came here to inform you someone wants you dead, but since you already knew about that..\" I started walking towards the window, about to climb out again, but she stopped me. \n\n\"Wait!\" I turned around.\n\n\"Yeah?\" \n\n\"Before you go,\" she went under her bed and handed me a knife, I looked at it. \"I'm not going to stab you, Octavia.\" She looked disappointed. 'This girl is insane,' I thought. She put the knife behind her back, then said, \"fine, then I guess I'll do it,\"\n\nAnd before I even had time to react, Octavia shoved a knife behind her back and through her heart. Blood was everywhere, and I leaped back. Quickly scrambling out the window and away from...that.\n\n(Lol idfk. Shut up.)",
"“Come with me if you want to live.” Sam’s favorite part of the job was delivering that line.\n\nShe was addressing a small, dark-haired man wearing a best buy uniform. The only remarkable thing about him was a familiar neck tattoo of a bloody lamb. He was walking his bike on a sidewalk next to a busy road, and she had come up behind him to speak.\n\nHe eyed Sam, searching for recognition. She was light-skinned, with snakebite piercings and a luxurious black sew-in that extended halfway down her back. Her outfit was a more generic version of his - khakis and a blue collared shirt without the logo.\n\n“Uh, hey. How’s it going?” Sam often received standard responses to nonstandard conversation starters. People assumed they had misheard her or focused more on the fact that she was talking to them than what she was saying.\n\n“They want to kiiiiiillll you,” she said, giving him a crazy grin. \n\nDark Hair got on his bike. \n\n“Okay, that’s enough fucking around. Federal agent.” She flashed her badge. “You’ve been targeted by cyberterrorists, and cordially invited to join the witness protection program.”\n\nHe got off his bike. Then examined the badge, as if he knew what an FBI agent’s badge looked like and would be able to spot a fake.\n\n“Well. Shit.”\n\nThree hours later, a street full of people witnessed Dark Hair, real name Thomas Grayson, being pushed in front of a bus. There was a horrible crash, a splatter of blood, and a convincing body too mangled for anyone to stomach examining closely. \n\n“Case closed,” Sam told her boss over the phone. He made impressed noises.\n\n“That was quick. You got the request, what, two days ago?”\n\n“We’ve certainly been getting a lot of practice lately. I didn’t expect action like this in Utah.”\n\n“I don’t intend on assigning more agents, if that’s what you’re asking. You’re doing a great job.”\n\n“No, that’s not it. Has he made any errors yet?”\n\nThe Deep Web had an undeserved reputation for untraceable transactions. It was possible, with the right timing and being connected in the right location, to spot the origin of a transmission. Sometimes this required luck, like if a proxy went through a country that could be more easily persuaded to cooperate. Another possibility was low user frequency. If you were the only computer accessing the deep web within fifty miles, it was enough for a search warrant. Most of the time it was human error. But the latest assassin customer was absolutely flawless.\n\nThey didn’t even have a motive to go on. His intended victims were innocents, and the only thing they had in common were their tattoos. Sam had tried to follow up on that, but all of the victims had said only that they had had them as long as they could remember.\n\nSam’s phone buzzed. Payment had arrived for the latest “kill”, and with it a new email.\n\nIt read only “Last one,” and had an attachment of the target’s driver’s license.\n\nAll of the victims so far had been white, and in their early twenties. This man was 80. Different was good. Different was a new potential clue. But “Last one” bothered her. If he didn’t make any mistakes this time, he would have gotten away with assassination. Or believed that he did, which wasn’t much better to her.\n\nThis was her last chance.\n\nSam moved slowly, trembling with each step. She groaned loudly and inched her walker forward.\n\n“Ohhhh! Oh my hip.” Sam was wearing a short, white and curly wig, and had made up her face with age lines. \n\n“Ohhhh! There’s a storm coming, I feel it in my bones,” she whined in her fake old voice. \n\nHer tour guide rolled her eyes. Without trying to hide it, even. Sam thought that was rude to her hypothetically old self and resolved not to come back in forty years or so.\n\n“This is our cafeteria.”\n\n“This is our workout room.”\n\n“These are some empty suites.”\n\nSam moaned and groaned about new fangled technology and how much better bread was before they sliced it all the way through the tour. She barely paid attention to the conversation, since she was busy keeping an eye out for Mr. Anderson.\n\n“These are our deluxe assisted living suites, with round the clock medical care.”\n\nThere. In a bed and covered in tubes. It looked like a hospital room, with a transparent glass window in front, tiled floors, and a TV in the corner of the ceiling.\n\nSheesh, they were paying her for this when they could just wait a year.\n\n“Ohhhh my, is that my old friend Harry Truman! I simply must go and speak to him.” The tour guide grunted and walked away, rubbing her temples.\n\nSam ditched her walker and went over to Anderson.\n\nHe noticed her sudden shift, and smiled wide.\n\n“Well, well, well. Did you bring anything with you, or am I going to have to let you borrow one of my pillows?” His old person voice was far better than hers, having had nearly a century to practice it.\n\nSam was unable to hold back her surprised look. Different. Different was good. He knew she was coming. Maybe he knew why.\n\n“Who is it that wants to kill you?” she said frankly, and in her normal voice.\n\n“My nurse, my children, my grandchildren, my ex-business partners, a good number of political lobbyists, and Rosemary from down the hall wants me to kick it already so she can get my spot. Oh, and I do. That last one is why you’re here, I imagine.”\n\nShe was tempted not to believe him. The number of octogenarians cybercrime arrested quarterly was zero. Quarterly, yearly, ever. \n\n“What username do I use when you contact me?”\n\n“MGKgunner. And mine is silversurfer66,” he said confidently. She noticed his fine silver hair, thinning on top but carpeting his arms. Up close, he didn’t look as weak as he appeared from the hallway. He was tall, with an aura of strength despite the tubing.\n\n“Why do you want to die?” Sam regretted not being miked for this. It was supposed to be a simple warning mission, with the extraction done later. She hadn’t imagined she’d be facing a confession. With any luck, their medical rooms would be recorded.\n\n“Oh, this body may pass on. But I won’t die.” His voice deepened, and Sam was unable to break eye contact. Sharp white light edged his face, seemingly without a source. Beyond the edges of the light, she saw another face, belonging to something vast. It looked at her through Anderson’s eyes. Expectantly.\n\n“I spent forty years preparing sacrifices for this day, and only engaged your services when I became unable to lay them on the altar. I confess, I did not bring you here to kill me, but to serve as a witness. I’ve kept this secret for so long. You have no idea how liberating it is to know everything is about to pay off.” His voice fell to a whisper, then silence, and yet continued. Sam could feel the knowledge forcing itself into her mind, a sense of profound, delayed satisfaction.\n\nSam tried to tear her eyes away from Anderson’s, and the being within them bared rows of teeth.\n\n“The lambs are dead. The beast is fed. And the corpse becomes the gateway.”\n\n“I have some bad news for you,” Sam forced out.\n\n“Speak quickly, this body has moments remaining.” This time, the other’s lips moved. It took a step forward, eclipsing the old man.\n\n“Your sacrifices are sacri-fine.” She had never been more proud of herself.\n\n“What?” It took another step forward, and slammed against a barrier. The white light was beginning to dim, and Anderson didn’t look so good. “No! I won’t go back!”\n\nA loud beeping sounded as Anderson’s heart rate flatlined. The unnatural force leeched out of the room, but Sam was still locked on the old man’s eyes.\n\n“Take the book,” he spoke. “Please. Finish my work.”\n\n“Please.” His breath went out of him for the last time, and she could move again. Alarms were going off. Sam’s body moved by instinct. She moved to a dresser drawer and opened the one second from the bottom, taking out a thick leather-bound tome. She tucked it under her arm and moved quickly and carefully to the exit.\n\nOnce outside, she examined the book. It was titled “Hark the Herald”, and seemed to be cult paraphernalia. It gave detailed instructions on how to mark babies, and sacrifice them after reaching adulthood, in a ritual designed to release an Angel of Light. The Angel had many incredible powers, and the book promised that releasing it would mean all those powers were at the disposal of the one who carried out the ritual.\n\nSam’s arm lifted, and she dialed her boss’s number. \n\n“I need to talk to all the victims, interview them again. I think I may have found something crucial,” her voice spoke.\n\n“We can set that up. Is Anderson ready for extraction?”\n\n“He had a heart attack when I told him. I guess the guy got what he paid for this time.” She laughed.\n\n“Mhmm. Sorry to hear that.”\n\n“Just set up the victim talks.” Sam hung up. She whistled cheerfully as she walked to her car, and any bystander would have seen a sharp white light coming from her face.\n \n\n \n"
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[WP] Humanity is establishing colonies in alternate timelines, you are in charge of a new settlement.
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"The process was simple, too easy - the Google supercomputer and AI had developed a way to implement glitches in the space-time continuum, thus changing the events of the past and generating an alternate future. People could upload their consciousness to the supercomputer and be teleported to said alternate timelines, where new bodies could be 3D printed for them. Glitches were more resource intensive the further back they were created. Communication could be established through inter-dimentional graviton beams. \n\nBasic stuff.\n\nGoogle did a lot of experiments with the 20s and 30s and 40s, seeing how much they could change the Second World War. \n\nToday I was to lead a team into one such timeline - the continuum file was labelled \"no_nuke\", I assumed that the nuclear bomb had never been invented...\n\nOne hundred and two hours later...\n\nI was strapped into the Gmind Electroneural Transfer, the \"Brain Box\" as it was more commonly known as. A lever was pulled.\n\nI experienced what death was. No light, no colour, no blackness. \n\nI was presented with a single dimension to manipulate, after some time I realised that I was inside a text prompt. I didn't know what it was saying.\n\nI channelled my thoughts into the space. \"Hello\" I managed to input. \"Can you get me a body.\"\n\nThe program was closed.\n\nI woke up in a lab, with a new body. Where were my Comrades?\n\nThere was a doctor there, he seemed pleased at the situation. But I didn't understand what he said\n\nWe, rather, I realised that I was in the wrong timeline.\n\nI felt cold, in my white body, a grey room where mounted on the wall, an eagle, perched atop a symbol of hate.\n\n"
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[WP] You have lost the ability to be wrong, you find out in the worst possible way.
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"The first tear streaming down her face was blood-curling but when the rest of the storm began to pour down her face, my heart was torn into shreds. The makeup she spent the previous hour working on giddy with a light heart ruined within seconds. She tried to cover with her delicate hands as she always had. She slowly aged down year by year until she was a bawling toddler again. \"I'm sorry.\" The words that finally broke their silence.\n\nDizzy. Why was I beginning to feel so dizzy? I stretched an arm slightly out to her but the rest of my body couldn't budge. It was as if I so much as shuffled my feet, I'd collapse and break down. Catching my breath was suddenly so difficult. It's just breathing. Breath in, breath out. Breath in, breath out. Breath in, breath out. Simple. Yet, concentrating so hard on this basic task was only making it harder. My mouth was now open, heaving for what my nose couldn't grasp, and unwittingly my stretched arm balancing me against the wall.\n\n\"You're right.\" The separation between four words was mere seconds yet felt centuries apart almost as if I was getting sucked into a black hole and time had stopped making sense. No, no, no I should not have done that. *I* am the one who is wrong. I am! \"I'm so stupid.\" No, you're brilliant, resourceful, perfect in every way, the source of my laughter, the source of so much of my joy. And so brave and confident. Will she be around me ever again? \n\nThose shreds of my heart are now being stomped on until not even the human eye could make them out. \"I'll get changed, daddy.\" Then she ran away from him. Stop, please stop, come back. All along the words were there yet he couldn't find a way to say them. He heard the door shut and it would be the last he'd see of her that night.\n\n---\n\n(I'm new here and this is my first attempt at writing anything. I hope I stuck close to the prompt.)",
"\"I don't know, everyone seems a little too dismissive of the tensions between the U.S. and North Korea. This seems very real to me, more so than I think even the president realizes.\" Liam said, sitting in his dorm with a few friends of varying views and knowledge on this matter. This was the first time he had mentioned this, that he thought this should be taken very seriously. \n\n\"Oh c'mon Liam, it's not like the U.S. military isn't taking it seriously, even if you don't think Trump really appreciates what's going on,\" his friend Margot said. She is definitely smart, the kind of person who you typically listen to. \n\n\"Yea man, they'll shoot that shit down in a second, pftpftpftpftpft\" Kyle said, making shooting gestures and noises, \"and even if that dude was crazy enough to try it, Trump doesn't take any shit, which means BAD news for North Korea.\" Kyle's points were much more debatable. \n\n\"Look, I get all that, I really do. But I think this is exactly the problem, we feel like under no circumstances will it actually happen, and that is a weakness. Not thinking we are vulnerable is our biggest vulnerability. And I think they will attack, with nukes, and that some will land.\" \n\nThey told him he was being dramatic, watching too much news, and, of course, not too worry about it, but Liam was not swayed at all.\n\nThe semester rolled on, and Liam, always a good student, seemed to be doing exceptionally well. Actually, when he thought about it, he may damn well have been doing perfectly. \n\n\"Wait,\" he thought, \"have I gotten even one question wrong all semester?\" He couldn't remember one, and sure enough he could not find a single assignment with any points taken off. He definitely wasn't working harder, and even felt more distracted than usual. \n\n\"Maybe I was working too hard before,\" he joked, when his friends pointed out his absurd scholastic performance. It was definitely weird, but he attributed it too some easy classes and his general aptitude. \n\n\"We'll see what happen when finals roll around, if you haven't accepted a MacArthur Grant by then,\" Margot teased. She was always nice, but couldn't fully hide her irritation at being outperformed. She wasn't doing much worse, of course, but Liam just couldn't get anything wrong. Even Margot had to settle for 90s and 95s from time to time. \n\nSchool started boring Liam a bit. No matter how much he worked, or didn't, he always got the perfect score. Liam had some money saved from his summer jobs, but hated not having an income and having to pinch pennies as a result. Since it appeared he could sacrifice some time from his schoolwork, he started thinking of some other ways to make money. As a guy who loved football and felt he understood the game well, he decided he would start to wager on some games. Kyle knew a another student who would take anyone's bet and, somehow, always paid out. At first his strategy was start with a small bet, say $100, and then build from there after a couple of wins. But when it came time to place the bet, something told him that was the wrong move. Liam opened the banking app on his phone, and the balance showed $1056.21. \n\n\"Is it ok if I wager $1056?\" Liam asked the bookie, which caused Kyle to start cackling. \n\n\"What is up with you man?\" Kyle asked, still laughing a little. It was clear from his expression the bookie was not expecting this either. He wasn't laughing, but he seemed pretty happy about a first time bettor risking so much.\n\n\"That depends on whether or not you have that much money, but if you do, yes, I will take it... The bet I mean, of course, not your money.\" The bookie said, smiling at Liam.\n\n\"You'll take it if I lose.\" Liam was, once again, not wrong. \n\nLiam didn't lose. Not for 3 weeks, at which point he had made $8000, and was really beginning to think he could predict any game. The bookie came up to him, seemingly distraught, and quite aggressively accused him of cheating, demanding money back, and threatening him with physical harm. Liam managed to calm him down, saying he just really understood football and it probably would't last. The bookie kept taking Liam's bets, but he knew he had to make some adjustments if he was going to make it to the end of football season. He started moving around the spreads, based on Liam's picks, and luckily for the bookie, a lot of people picked opposite of Liam, expecting his \"luck\" to run out.\n\nLiam picked every game correctly, even foretelling the exact final scores. People would ask what his reasoning was, and while he usually gave some fluff-filled answer, he really didn't know. In his mind, he felt as though he simply lost the ability to be wrong. It seemed silly, but he doubted he was wrong about that, since he wasn't about anything else.\n\nFinals rolled around and Liam aced everything. On the last day of the semester, he sat in his dorm with a few friends, as he so often did, and listened to them suggest he was paying teachers off, or that he was creating fake tests and that his real grades were lower. He tried to explain that he hasn't been wrong about anything all semester, school or otherwise, even when he doesn't understand his decisions fully. \n\n\"Actually, Liam,\" Kyle said, \"you were wrong about one thing. Remember you said the nuclear threat from North Korea needed to be taken more seriously, and that we were 'weak' or something like that? Well its been months and not only has nothing happened, but there hasn't been much hostility at all. Certainly seems like you were wrong there.\"\n\nLiam was inclined to agree, and all at once felt silly for thinking he couldn't be wrong about anything. \n\n\"You know what Kyle, you've got a point there,\" Liam said with a chuckle.\n\n\"Yea and you were also wrong about not being wrong all semester, so now we're up to two things,\" Margot pointed out, savvy as ever. \n\nLiam was relieved to be back home for the holidays, though it was the certainly the least stressful semester of school in his life. He was happy to be home and relaxing with family, and had forgotten entirely about his silly \"can't be wrong\" theory, save for when his family praised his grades. \n\n\"Honestly, I doubt I'll ever do that well again. This one might be a fluke, so brace yourselves for next semester,\" Liam said with a smirk. His mother didn't like the joke, but everyone else laughed. \n\nIt was quite cold this year, even for late December. Liam grew up on the east coast, but never seemed to grow accustomed to winter. His family had travel plans later in the weak, and everyone was concerned about the weather, so they turned on the news to check out the forecast. Liam had a feeling it would get a little warmer, but chalked it up to optimism. \n\n\"I know we are all freezing now,\" the weatherman said, \"but in just a couple of days we will have a little more sunshine and temps in the high 30s and 40s.\" \n\n\"Damn, I was right,\" Liam thought. He still didn't really think he was literally always right, but he still wasn't getting anything wrong. Then, the weather report cut out...\n\nBREAKING NEWS flashes across the screen. A very somber news anchor explains the U.S. is under attack. \n\n\"We have just received word that North Korea has fired two missiles at Guam, believed to be nuclear weapons. The U.S. military will be utilizing all resources available to prevent these missiles from hitting Guam and to minimize any potential damage. We are not aware of any counterattack at this time.\" \n\nLiam's family gasped, almost collectively. Some cried, others yelled and called for war. But Liam just stood there, frozen solid with fear that he was right about everything. His body tingled, and he eventually had to sit down because he felt so numb. \n\nLiam had explained to his friends that he thought we were more vulnerable than most people think, and that we would eventually be attacked. Though that was not the full extent of what he believed would happen. It was too hyperbolic to say in that context, but he suspected that not only would the nuclear attack not be stopped, but that it would nearly destroy the U.S., and that we would never fully recover from it. \n\nLiam was shaking and clammy. He stayed in the same spot on the couch glued to the coverage of the event. The U.S. military had shot down the first two missiles, and mobilized to defend Guam, but there were reports of more missiles and this time it would be Guam and Hawaii. The U.S. continued to dispatch ships and jets to counter all these attacks, and as the time passed it seemed like we were prepared after all. \n\nLiam was so relieved. By the late evening, the media was reporting a total of 10 missiles were fired and all were intercepted. There were concerns about how many missiles North Korea had, but some speculated that they shot them all in a desperate attempt to actually do some damage to us. Liam wanted to believe that, but found it very hard to do so. \n\nStill, very late in the evening, so late that even the most concerned found themselves feeling sleepy, it seemed there would be no more attacks, at least not immediately. Liam believed he was wrong, which allowed him to relax and almost immediately pass out, though he was still on the couch, and the news was still on. \n\nIn the middle of the night, when most people encounter their worst fears in their dreams, Liam woke up to a nightmare. \n\nTwenty more nukes, fired at the west cost of the United States, of which the press estimated \"maybe half were shot down.\" It was complete destruction, no one needed the details to understand the impact this would have. America had fallen. \n\nLiam did not want to be right, but he was. He was right about everything. \n\n\nEdit: Had to fix a sentence. ",
"The man knelt next to the grave, tears dried on his face.\n\n&nbsp; \n\n*Elizabeth Joan Clifford*\n\n*June 15 1993 - December 22 2018* \n\n&nbsp;\n\n\"Oh baby girl. My sweet Lizzy\" The words barely came out as he choked back another fit of sobbing.\n\n&nbsp;\n\n-------------\n13 Months Ago\n\n-----------------\n&nbsp;\n\n\n\"Thank God they're gone, sometimes they're a bit much.\" Elizabeth said as she closed the door.\n\n\"Baby girl, she's your sister, and she's not that bad.\" The man said from the recliner in the living room.\n\n\"I know daddy, I like having them over, especially for thanksgiving. Sometimes the kids are a bit crazy though.\" Elizabeth said as she crossed the room.\n\n\"Hahaha, well you're right about that!\" He chuckled.\n\n\"Oh man, I have a bit of a headache actually. I'm going to take some Advil.\"\n\n\"It's probably a brain tumor!\" He yelled with a bit laugh. \"You millennials, if you google it, that's what that internet thing will tell you isn't it?\"\n\n\"Come on daddy, it isn't that bad. Usually it's pretty good with symptoms. It's just that WebMD site that's bad.\" She said while counting out 3 pills and swallowing them with water. \"When do you want a ride home?\"\n\n\"Whenever you want Lizzy, I'm in no rush\"\n\n\"Okay daddy, you up for finishing the hockey game?\"\n\n\"Sounds perfect baby girl\"\n\n&nbsp;\n\n---------------\n\n&nbsp;\n\n\"If only I known then Lizzy... I wouldn't have made that joke. I know you forgave me for it...\" He choked, fresh tears streaming down his face. \"But I'll never forgive myself.\"\n\n&nbsp;\n\n------------------------------------------------------------------\nThis was a bit more of a personal one, but I hope you enjoyed and feel free to give feedback. Thanks for reading."
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[WP] A superhero chases a villain into a dark warehouse, only to have the doors close behind them. When the lights come on, the hero is surrounded by the full rogues gallery of supervillains. But this isn’t an ambush… It’s an intervention.
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"*Note - this ended up taking a turn from what I had intended but I still think it fits the general mood of the prompt.* \n\nI didn't like how silent the pier was that night. My eyes darted around frantically. A shimmering beam of reflected moonlight danced on the waves. I focused on my super-hearing, willing the sound of the surf to fade into the background. I could hear the small crabs delicate steps across the damp sand. I heard - I felt - the sound of the sea breeze rustling the feathers of the resting gulls. In the distance, there was a rattling cough I recognized all too well: it had come from Magnum Foramen. \n\nI had no idea to worry about what *that* skull-masked villain was up to - likely looking for more merchandise to sell in his bone market. Suddenly, I heard it - the gentle rubbing of leather and nylon I recognized as the tell of The Carnelian. Using my super speed, I blasted down the walkway, my feet barely touching the to the wooden beams, until I reached the door of the warehouse.\n\nThe darkness seems almost palpable as I step inside. Something is definitely wrong here - just like the silence outside, there is something unnatural about the inky void that surrounds me. I suspect Umbra is somewhere nearby, no doubt attempting to suppress my super senses. \n\nNot even her darkness power can muffle the sound of the door shutting and locking behind me, however. Pieces start to fall into pace. Why would Magnum Foramen just *happen* to be nearby? Why had The Carnelian chose *this* warehouse to come into? It couldn't be coincidence.\n\nI heard a low hum of something powering up and braced myself for the super villains to spring their trap. My mind raced with possibilities. A taser-net? One of Eldritch's half-robotic abominations? A fury of images screamed through my brain - blades, fangs, lasers, drills.\n\nDazzling brilliance worked its way into my pupils, like worms burrowing into my cornea. Nonetheless, I was ready: every nerve ending felt charged with energy, and I turned quickly from side to side, teeth clenched and grinding, prepared for whatever ungodly fate awaited me. \n\nThe lights changed shape and color and I knew in an instant who was at work. As the beams of red and blue washed over me, probing me, I roared into the darkness \"Show yourself, Lumen! You know your parlor tricks have no effect on me! Ever since the government put the cybernetic implants in my brain I am immune to your mesmeric display!\"\n\nFaces - grotesque, distorted faces - loomed up at me from the black. It could only mean one thing: Waxworks was here, too! This was going to be the most difficult fight of my entire career. \n\n\"I don't care how many of you there are,\" I bellowed savagely. \"While I have blood in my heart and air in my lungs, I will fight you. Your reign of terror ends here, even if it means my life ends with it!\" \n\nI placed my balled fists against my temples to activate my psionic powers. A gift from the S'th'chari people of Lunar Colony Omega in exchange for saving them from the invading Moothakkle Armada.\n\nDrawing a breath so deep I thought my lungs might explode, I flung my arms down to my sides. \"ID INSINUATION!\" I cried, willing my cyborg mind to identify the neural patterns of any enemies around me. I felt a chill creep into the deepest, rawest part of my essence. When I reached out with my neurologic attack, I had felt only nothingness. \"Is that you, Mind Shift? Come to finish what we started in the lost continent of Lemuria, when I stopped you from stealing the sacred relics of the Rapa Nui?\"\n\nThe ghoulish visages loomed closer. Bulging and misshapen, I could nonetheless detect the apprehension with my arcane knowledge given to me by the Withered Ankle of Mogo-BoG'orgoth. Too late, however, did I catch the flash of lightning the signaled an impending attack by General Ion.\n\n\"EGO WHIP\" I managed to shriek as the voltage entered my bones like a million electric worms. I felt myself collapsing, falling. I was sinking into the black, into Umbra's shadow, into the empty ocean. \n\nDarkness. ",
"“Shadowharp! Stop in the name of the law!” Shadowharp ran into a warehouse, and I pursued. I paused at the door, reaching out with my mind to get a glimpse of the interior. I read nothing. I tensed, wary of his ability to manipulate shadows. I opened the door and crept inside, closing the door as silently as possible. My mind read only a large floor and a series of warehouse shelves. I wondered if I had been tricked, if Shadowharp was actually even in there at all. I made my way along an aisle, listening intently. The lights came on throughout the warehouse. I was surrounded. Every super villain in the greater Furlong City area was there; Megagorilla, Burning Man, and Harpy were right near me, my most powerful enemies. Beyond them, I saw Razor Woman, Lightfrost, and Mr Anonymous (I think). There was even a crowd of clones from the League Of Jeff. I was vastly outnumbered.\n\n“What is this? Have you all come to kill me?”\n\n“No, Captain Element, we’ve come to help you.” It was a man in a suit. I didn’t recognize him.\n\n“Who are you?”\n\n“I’m Memory Master. You may not recall, but we’ve encountered each other several times over the past six years. I’ve wiped your memory of each incident. When I’ve been inside your head, I’ve noticed some things. You need help.” He put his hands on my shoulders. I shrugged him off.\n\n“I don’t need your help, whoever you are.”\n\n“Yes, you do, Mark. You may be physically fit, you may have naturally occurring mind powers that allow you to see slightly into the future, and you may wear a PowerRing from the SuperCongress, but you’re not invulnerable naturally. Yet each of us has seen you take punches that would have killed a mortal man, walk away unscathed from being hit by cars, and even withstand Burning Man’s lava punch. Even the Metropolitan would be hurt by that. A few months ago, some of us finally figured it out, that you were on something. I visited your apartment yesterday and found a supply of pills in your dresser. They’re Invulnerin, the same drug that powered Captain Immortal back in the sixties. I had it verified by TimeThief.” The bastard had found out my secret identity and violated the sanctity of my home!\n\n“You want to take away my powers?! You want to kill me?!!” I saw Harpy shake her head.\n\n“Mark, we’re not killers. We rob banks and pick pockets. Sometimes we engage in a little spirited hijinks. We only ever steal. Do you remember a few years ago when that little girl was killed by a Gryphon in Main Street Park? That was a murderous shapeshifter who called himself Killmorph. We hunted him down that evening and restrained him, then I lobotomized him. I took away most of his memories and personality. We’ve been keeping him in a group home ever since. We can’t even bring ourselves to kill him, and he’s a child killer. Between us, we’ve stopped thirty murderers, far too many rapists to mention, and two alien invasions. This is our lot, and I’m sure you understand: when you have extraordinary abilities, you have unique responsibilities. Do you know what happened to Captain Immortal?”\n\n“He retired. He moved to Arizona.” But I was lying. I knew that wasn’t the whole truth.\n\n“He did retire, Mark, because he was losing his mind and his body was a wreck. He walked away from the Invulnerin. He had the shakes, his vision was going. He was a natural flier. Did you know that? No power ring for him. But the Invulnerin robbed him of that. The man used to be able to see through walls, but he lost that, too, and then eventually went blind in one eye. When he died, he looked like he was in his 80s, but he was only 57.” I knew it. I had found his pill stash in his house, the house I moved into with my parents when we moved to Furlong City.\n\n“It makes me invulnerable.” I sounded pathetic. I felt wrong.\n\n“Only to being hit by cars or super villains, Mark. You look like you’re forty, but you aren’t, are you? How old are you, Mark?”\n\n“I’m 28.” I felt ashamed. My mom wouldn’t even take my calls anymore. She thinks I’m on cocaine. She’s wrong, but she’s not that wrong. I started crying. I didn’t feel invulnerable. I felt like taking another pill, even though it meant breaking my schedule. I only had so many. I figured out years ago a perfect schedule for crime fighting. One pill every other week was enough to keep me alive through almost anything. I was up to three a day. I think it wore off sooner. An old man walked out from behind Megagorilla and came up to me.\n\n“Captain Element. I am Captain Chaos. Don’t worry, I’m long retired. I was not a well known, well, um, I was not well known, let’s just say that. My ability has to do with manipulating atoms and molecules. Have you ever heard of the time that the old city hall turned into stone? That was me. Don’t worry, I won’t turn you into stone. Here’s what I can do by you. I can remove all traces of Invulnerin from you. It’s going to hurt. If you want, Memory Master can take away all memories of the process. We already took your pills from your apartment, and when you hand us the pill bottle in your utility belt, you won’t have any left. You’re going to feel awful for weeks. That’s inevitable. Besides, at this point, your problem isn’t just chemical, it’s psychological. Do you know why we’re offering you this opportunity?”\n\n“No.” I was crying again. I sank to my knees, surrounded by super villains who wanted to save my life. Even my friends Nightmaster and Hyperbeam weren’t trying that, and they both knew I took Invulnerin.\n\n“Because we like you. You seem like a good kid. Your heart’s in the right place. You know how many of us have tried being superheroes? Pretty much all of us. I personally would love to be like the Metropolitan. Such a hero! I have a scrapbook of clippings of his exploits. You could probably be great, too. A little more great detective work and a little less action movie stuff. So? Are you ready? It’ll make your withdrawal more tolerable. You say the word.” He had kind eyes.\n\n“Yes. Do it, before I change my mind.”\n\nI woke up in a cold sweat. It was midday. I got out of bed, went to the bathroom, and puked my guts out. I showered. When I went to the kitchen, I found it full of groceries. My fridge was full. There was orange juice. I had more fresh vegetables and fruits than I’d bought for myself all year. I couldn’t help but check. My pills were gone from my linen closet, replaced by a small notecard. There was a phone number on it and it was signed MM. I felt some burning shame again and I teared up. I put it on the fridge with a magnet. I poured myself a glass of orange juice. I called work and told them I had the flu. I emailed Hyperbeam and told him the same. I felt tired. I went back to sleep. My dreams were less black and white than usual."
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[WP] You're the weirdest kid in school. You've always been. Even rejects reject you but, for some reason, you are asked out by the best looking and nicest guy/girl in the school
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"\"This is a joke to you, right?\" One could see a tear form in my eye. Normally i am very immune to insults, but this, this is how you could seriously hurt me. \"No, really it isn't! Please believe me!\" Just as school had ended i was stopped and told to go on a date, with the best looking student in the next 100 kilometres. It couldn't be true. \"Are you sure this isnt some kind of joke? To get to me perhaps?\" I mean i was the biggest outcast in this country. Why you ask? well, just 'cause! I was superbly friendly: i held open doors, i wouldn't ask people about their personal life. There was nothing i had ever done wrong in my life, but still everyone seemed to hate me. Well, nearly everyone: \"I like you, please go on a date with me!\" \"Okay\" i said. \"I have to go now\" was the last thing i said. \"Talk to you tomorrow\" came the answer.\n> *Chris Chan* went offline"
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[WP] It is the year 2021. Humankind receives its first interterestial message - by humans. "This is Atlantis calling Earth. We detected life forms. Did anybody down there survive the apocalypse?"
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"It had been a normal day. I woke up two hours before my alarm to worry about having to go to work that day. Just like every other day. Then came my crying fit, right on time. Goody, another day of swollen eyes and forced positivity as I tried to suffer through the day, I thought to myself as I obsessively scrubbed at my face. The dark circles under my eyes kept turning a deeper blue every time I looked at them. Or so it seemed, anyway. My orange tabby, Morty, swirled around my feet, mewing at me every so often to let me know he was put off by my ignoring him. I ran my fingers through my lack luster brown hair, thinking about how badly I needed a cut when he suddenly perked up and puffed up. You know, when the cat gets spooked and their hair stands on end. Like that. Well, he stood there with his back all arched looking intently at the window. He took off toward the backdoor without a backwards glance, hissing the whole way. I brushed off his weird behavior thinking that he probably ate some food off the counter and had an upset stomach. That's when it happened. When America and the world ended. \n\nI heard Morty yelling at the backdoor as if he was in terrible pain and irritatedly stalked out to see what he was screaming about. I found him at the back door, staring hard out the window and squatted down to comfort him but my hand never touched him. I heard a far off boom before the building shuttered and the windows shattered. The electricity cut out with a zap and glass and dry wall littered the ground. My shelves fell from the walls and my bookshelf toppled, spilling it's contents everywhere. Destruction. I panicked and ran to the bedroom just as the door blasted open and my boyfriend came running out, naked and terrified. He grabbed my shoulders and pulled me close. That's the last thing I remember from that day. I'm told what followed was mass chaos, a shit storm. It doesn't take long for people to become animals.\n\nWe learned that we had been bombed. We still don't know by whom because their plan backfired and they effectively ruined the world, blowing us and everyone else to smithereens. At least thats what we think. We have no internet, no way to communicate with the rest of the world. We don't know how they fared, who all is left. Who is out there that can save us. That was until today. \n\nAfter the bombing, everything fell apart as you can imagine. There were murders over the food remaining in the grocery stores. People starved on the streets, their dead bodies piled on one another as if someone came by and shoved them all off to the side to clear the way. Some were merely bones at this point, scavenged by the animals and few humans desperate enough to cannibalize. Money become obsolete, trade and skill became the backbone of society. Now, things have calmed. It's been a few years and we seem to have reached a status quo. We've learned to grow what we can and to foster the repopulation of what species did survive. Things were really hard for a long time. But they feel okay now. Sometimes better. I don't worry about the things I used to. I have bigger things to focus on rather than a promotion at work or that new car. Like my well being. Anywho, my boyfriend and I had fallen into new rolls. He helped build shelters with what rubble was left and I tended to the garden. Something I had dreamed about doing for a living had been thrust on me in such unusual circumstances. \n\nLike most of my days, I was pulling weeds. I wanted more than anything to be a part of the harvest team but they needed me here, pulling weeds. During the end of the world. How weird. In the center of town, some of the smarties had set up a radio to try and catch stray waves of anyone else who might be out there. I don't know about everyone else but I never had any hope that it would actually work. Ever. But today, as I'm knuckle deep in soil, a message was played across the loud speakers: \"Urgent: townhall commencing in 15 minutes. Please report.\" Now, this in itself wasn't distinctly odd or out of the norm. We sometimes dealt with rule breakers this was, the worst offenders anyway. There were certain lines you didn't cross and sometimes we felt justice best served from the entire community. In the form of stones. But today wasn't a stoning. Everyone seemed a bit nervous as they filled the hall and took their seats. The smarties in charge of the radio were huddled in front of everyone, whispering and wildly gesturing with their hands. I found Todd, the boyfriend I mentioned, across the sea of heads and made my way toward his comfort. I was getting a bit jumpy myself with everyone so full of energy. He stroked my hand with his thumb and we sat down to receive whatever it was they had for us. Up in front, the head smarty took the podium and projected his voice across the room.\n\n\"I'll just get right to it. We aren't here because of of a crime, people. Something more serious has occurred...\" his silence drew on as he eyes the crowd. A small smile crept onto his face and be proclaimed, \"We've been contacted! We aren't alone.\" And a different voice suddenly rang out over the loud system, \"This is Atlantis calling Earth. Did anybody down there survive the apocalypse?\" And the room erupted. ",
"######[](#dropcap)\n\nWiping bleary eyes, Sonya waited impatiently for her fourth...no, *sixth* cup of coffee to finish brewing. The COMPUT team had been running in panic mode for way too long, and while it was true that nobody else on the team was getting much sleep either, she was pretty sure she was getting the shortest end of the stick. “Sure, let’s make the lab tech stick around all night.” she grumbled, “Just in case! 'It could finish at any time!'” She stirred in a liberal amount of sugar into her coffee and returned to the COMPUT terminal.\n\nShe stopped dead in her tracks. She had missed the big moment after all! There on the screen, the world’s most powerful supercomputer, after working overtime for weeks, had generated only a few short lines of text.\n\n[THIS IS ATLANTIS...](#sc)\n\n“*What?*” she thought, her sleep-starved brain refusing to cooperate as she tried to make sense of what she was seeing.\n\n[...CALLING EARTH. WE DETECTED LIFE FORMS. DID ANYBODY DOWN THERE SURVIVE THE APOCALYPSE?](#sc)\n\nSonya didn’t even realize that she had dropped her coffee, not until a half hour later when Dr. Owne slipped in the puddle and nearly cracked his head open falling.\n\n~~~\n\n“Excuse me, the name of the ship is actually *Atlantis*?” asked the reporter, incredulous. “As in...the mythical island?”\n\n“Yes, well, it’s a translation, of course.” President Armand responded. “The, uh, Atlanteans, are helping us compile a translation dictionary between their ancient language and English.” She added as an afterthought, “And Chinese, Russian, Spanish, etcetera.”\n\n“So these Atlanteans are...humans?”\n\n“As far as we can determine, yes. These are the descendents of an ancient, pre-history people that left earth possibly as long as 10,000 years ago.” She took a breath, the words sounding stranger and stranger to her own ears. “We, through the legend we know, have retained only a tiny part of their story.”\n\nThere was a pause, and another journalist spoke up, “What apocalypse did the initial message refer to?”\n\nShe spoke carefully. “At this time, we don’t know for sure what they meant. They’ve confirmed that there was a catastrophe of some kind which forced them to abandon Earth. As their first message indicated, they were unsure of the fate of the rest of our species. Obviously, with this discovery, our understanding of human history will need to change a great deal. However, once the Atlanteans arrive here-”\n\nA burst of exclamations interrupted her, followed by a storm of questions overlapping each other. She closed her eyes in frustration as the already chaotic press conference began to devolve into a minor riot.\n\n~~~\n\nThe *Atlantis* almost seemed to appear from nowhere. Lila was stuck way in the back of the crowd, but she hadn’t needed to worry about being able to see. The ship was the biggest, most beautiful thing she had ever seen in her life, stretching overhead practically from horizon to horizon. It seemed impossibly smooth for something so large! The only features that she could see were an intricate pattern of lines and circles all across the bottom that shone with a delicate silvery light. The crowd went completely silent, a phenomenon that sent shivers down Lila’s spine.\n\nFor a moment, the *Atlantis* just hung there, hovering. Then, all across the ship, hidden doors opened and a several smaller, bizarrely shaped ships flew out in a precise procession. Lila cheered, and the crowd joined her in a deafening roar.\n\n~~~\n\nPajit wished he could watch the Atlanteans return to Earth in person. Unfortunately, the landing was happening in Washington D.C. all the way on the other side of the world. So, the best option he had was watching the live stream of the event on his phone. \n\nOn his tiny screen, he watched through a camera set up at a distant vantage point, which showed the enormous bulk of the *Atlantis* filling the sky above a waiting crowd of thousands. He leaned in closer, trying to catch a glimpse of any details. It felt a lot like watching a movie, actually. He frowned. An alien invasion movie…\n\nSeconds later, he saw the first explosion.\n\n~~~\n\nProfessor Alexiou quickly turned off the television to avoid seeing any more and released a shaky breath. A part of him had suspected what would happen, though he had not dared suggest it to anyone other than his wife for fear of everyone thinking him paranoid. He had hoped so very much that he would be wrong.\n\nIn the original fable — Plato’s Atlantis, not the utopian legend that came later — Atlantis, technologically superior but morally repugnant, had tried to conquer the world and enslave the rest of humanity.\n\nIf part of the story was true, why not all of it?\n",
"I awoke on my makeshift straw bed. Mother had given it to me before the Great Snow. Nature had sought its revenge for the sins of humanity. Earth had turned against us after fantastic technology rained nuclear bombs from the sky. I watched the surface from the monitor installed on one of the four concrete walls of my bedroom. My underground home was luckily powered by the tides and heated by the warmth of the earth. That hadn't kept my parents from dying though. Without them, all I could do is play on my computer and listen to my radio. Father had rebuilt both of them for me before the food had run out. He said that he would try to give me a good life despite what had happened on the surface. I loved him and my mother. My mother was an artist, and tried to archive all the classics for me to enjoy in her absence. I suddenly felt like getting out of bed and stretching. No point in ruminating over the past. I got up and headed over to my radio to listen to the old early 00s dance-pop music I loved so much. To my surprise, I heard a fuzzy message instead. \"This is Atlantis calling Earth. We detected life forms. Did anybody down there survive the apocalypse?\" I rushed to my computer. Remembering my Father's last words, I ran the program created to respond to human survivors seeking to communicate with me. \"This is Emily. A sentient droid created by Dr. Cher and Maxie Franklin. She hears your message. She survives.\" ",
"“This is Atlantis calling Earth. We detected life forms. Did anybody down there survive the apocalypse?” a smooth voiced man echoed through every speaker on our tiny planet. For a few moments, the entire world stopped. Everyone looked up, sat upright in bed, and listened in sudden shocked confusion. The broadcast aired loudly on every speaker, radio, earbud, and intercom. For a second all was still and quiet, all of us wondering what had so randomly occurred. And then he spoke again, “This is Atlantis. Come in Earth, is there life down there?” \n\nAssuming the man was looking ‘down’ on us, we all slowly… looked up. As if there had been an invisibility switch suddenly turned off, the space crafts appeared. Hundreds of them, then thousands. Some were large and intimidating, while others were small – but all of them looked exactly the same, sleek, sophisticated, and strikingly futuristic. The world had seen nothing like it, until we met the Atlantians.\n\nInside and out, the Atlantians were superior to our ‘survivor race.’ They looked like us, except all of them were taller, healthier, more toned and muscled. Their skin was pale, but flawless and their hair was fair and long. Their culture was accepting and diverse. These people had never known war, famine, or injustice. Atlantians were vastly more intelligent than we left behind.\n\nBeing superior beings, the Atlantians had predicted the typhoon seas, hurricanes, and volcanic eruptions that although would not destroy the planet – would alter it in an unlivable and unsustainable way. Knowing they could not stay, their scientists built a mothership for exporting citizens off the doomed planet. In the rush to build it, the ship was made smaller – to carry only half of the civilization – and would make two trips to export the entire population. The groups were divided by three categories: intelligence, strength, and appearance. Those who scored higher in all three categories would be on the first flight. These would seek a new home for the rest, claim it, and return for the rest.\n\nAfter looking for them in the wrong place all this time, here they were. The Atlantians, here to save us – to transport us home to our rightful planet. It was described as a utopia, images of it showed immaculate homes, lush but purposeful infrastructure, and stunning natural parks, waterfalls, and oceans. There was no such thing as pollution on Atlantis, and the sun shined all year. Disease and sickness had never been felt. We thanked God we had been saved – the saviors were here to take us home, as they had promised all along.\n\nBut these people were not our saviors, among other things..we call them deserters now. Once realizing that their predictions about the planet had come true – not because of sheer nature – but instead because our self-inflicted destruction, ozone depletion, racism, inequality, and disease - among many other reasons. The Atlantians left faster than they arrived. Leaving the other half on a doomed planet again, and this time forever. \n\n",
"So, I don't normally journal or write anything, so, this is pretty new to me. My name is Garcia, it means \"Mighty with a spear\" and I suppose that's what this is all about. My spear is an 80 meter pole I found washed up on the edges of my island, Puerto Rico. I suppose I'm writing this with too much pride though, so let me start from the beginning.\n\nAfter the damage to the island in 2017 and the failed attempts to get a functional power grid back online and the general lack of food, shelter, or even drinking water there was much to be done on the island. By mid-2018 the Trump presidency - as well as the majority of aid organizations- had forgotten about us. 'peqgroupos' or little groups began to form. They're like little communities of families that all work together to provide the necessities, where each member has a job. My job was to man the HAM radio and communicate with the fishing boats and any aid volunteers that did come. Fortunately for my peqgroupo one of the other families was Cuba and had experience making everything from nothing, and had spent years learning how to work with electronics and vacuum tubes from his bisabuelo. He was able to bring me from 10 watts to 100 watts, and made the signal quality both for transmission and reception much better. If I set things up right I could do moon-bounce pretty well even, not that we had a use for it.\n\nAbout halfway though 2020 is when I found the large pole on the beach, and with help from all of the peqgroupo, got it set up and attached to a larger transmitter salvaged from a pirate radio station from the Virgins, and with that and the now semi-functional power grid I was at 10,000 watts. When the power grid could handle it I was the voice of the island. Sure, the sound quality was marginal at best, even though the best of AM radios, but the island had music again. I felt like a God. I put on any music I could find, and at least once an hour broadcast a message asking for aid. By new years this year (2021) the island had practically claimed independence, and the attitude had swayed to not wanting help. To knowing that we could do better on our own. Sure, we still had a worthless head in the house, but excluding that we had our nation back. We were Puerto Rico.\n\nFebruary, 3 months ago, was the first time I heard it. It sounded vaguely like English, but like none that I had ever heard. I was tuned to 111.11 scanning though when I picked it up. I decided to transmit back. \"Hello? Hola?\" the transmission continued for about 10 minutes until suddenly it erupted, what must've been 50 distinct voices came in, all in this foreign language, and then there was a massive static burst followed by one voice which said something yet again in an unknown language, but with an inquisitive tone. With out an idea what I was getting into I responded \"Who is this? Quien es este? Quien? Quien?\". A silent 10 minutes passed, before I heard one word repeated multiple times \"Atlantis. Atlantis. Atlantis.\" I tried talking to the station again but it was silent.\n\nThe next day I tuned to the same station again, but this time the same message was playing on repeat.\n\n\"This is Atlantis. This is Atlantis. We not did thought any survivors. On way. 10 days. 10 days.\"\n\nI responded quickly. \"Hello Atlantis. What is your location?\" The same message repeated multiple times before going silent for about half an hour. I waited in fear that the survivors message implied they were in need. Finally I heard \"Vega. 10 days. 25 year light.\" repeat twice, and then once more as \"Vega. 10 dia. 25 año luz\" and then stop, as if waiting for a reply. I thought for a moment. The English was broken, and the distance, 25 light years, surly someone must be messing with me. I decided to tune away from the frequency and continue my music broadcasts.\n\nTen days later it came. Atlantis, the lost city, was not lost to the sea, but rather to the stars. it landed in the water about an 1/4 mile from the island. At least we assume it landed, since it was simply there in the morning. As we gathered on the beach we saw the side of the craft - a large bubble, so large it absorbed the horizon- open up and on the inside was an entire city, and on this edge a large crowd of people stood there cheering, as if they had just won the super bowl. Even from this distance the sound was overwhelming. The entire craft came this way. The passengers were human.\n\nI am Garcia, the man who brought Atlantis home with my spear, and with it the cure to all of our diseases and cancers, the solution to our - and the world's - energy needs, and so, so much more. We have reunited with our Gods to find that we are Gods ourselves. Atlantis was a city of engineers, scientists, and hope. They brought us libraries that would've made Alexandria look like a rural middle school book club's trash pile, and foods that we could have never imagined. So how about that America? We ended up aiding you. We aided the world. Puetro Rico is now the home of Atlantis, the cites you wanted to be lost found the city the world lost long ago. \n"
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[WP] The elevator doors open, but you and your work colleagues are definitely not seeing your office beyond the open doors.
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"To break the awkward, horrifyingly monotonous silence I step out as a way to assure the others of the safety of doing so. As I turn around to utter a cliche \"See you guys...\" a creek sound slithers from the floor behind me to my ears like a cold eel writhing from my ankles up my back and to both ears.",
"\"Hold the door!\" came the frantic, high-pitched voice. Rounding the corner, huffing and puffing, came Brenda from accounting, her rotund form wobbling slightly as she struggled to balance in her too-high heels. \n\n\"Thanks, Bill!\" she chirped at me, stepping on. \"Gosh, what a great day it's been!\" The elevator shifted noticeably with her weight, but I pretended not to notice. \n\n\"Which floor?\" I asked.\n\n\"Oh, same as you!\" she replied brightly. \"I'm headed out for the day! how about you? Big plans?\" \n\n\"Nah, nothing much,\" I replied, silently begging the elevator to speed up. Brenda was such a talker, and I was in no mood for her huge, fake smiles right now. \"I'll probably just stop at the gym and then spend the rest of the evening at home. Uh, how about you?\" I had started working out at that gym a little over a year ago, when I found out that Claire from accounting worked out there. Yeah, creepy of me, I know. But Claire had quit work suddenly soon after, and I hadn't seen her since. _Serves me right for being such a stalker._ \n\nBrenda's smile widened. \"Actually, I do have some plans! Right after I get out of here I'm meeting an old friend of mine.\" \n\n\"Oh? That sounds nice.\" I was trying to feign just the right amount of interest to not be rude, but also to not encourage her. _God, would this elevator ever get to the ground floor?_ \n\nBrenda was unperturbed. \"Yeah! Actually, he's waiting outside for me. You might like him, Bill, now that I think of it!\"\n\nI looked up sharply at that. Brenda and I had never had any personal contact outside of work. We'd never exchanged anything more than basic office small talk. Why would she want me to meet some random guy she was probably going out with?\n\nMistaking my look for interest, she continued. \"You and him have a lot of the same interests. You're into that...\" she hesitated. \"dragons and cellars? What's that board game again? Oh, Dungeons and Dragons! Yeah, he's really into that too! But for him, it's like real life!\" She opened her eyes really wide and made a jazz hands gesture for emphasis. \n\n_Great_, I thought. _Brenda's going to try to make me hang out with her LARPing middle aged boyfriend. God, how slow has this elevator been moving?_ \"Brenda...\" I managed, but she cut me off. \n\n\"Oh I'm so excited for you to meet him! It'll be such fun!\" \n\nAt that moment, the elevator finally stopped and let out a loud *ding*. FINALLY!\n\nThe door opened, and I jumped back in surprise. This was _not_ the office building lobby. A huge, looming darkness stood before me, in which I could make out vague human forms standing in two lines extending outward into the blackness. The forms were robed and hooded, and as I stared in shock, their veiled heads slowly turned toward us. \n\n\"What...what the hell is this?\" I whispered in horror. Brenda, who had been standing behind me, gave no reply.\n\nSuddenly, I felt something sharp and cold pressed against my back, and Brenda's fat hand wrapped around my neck in a vice-like grip. \"So sorry it had to be this way,\" she said. \"You weren't my first choice, but ultimately that decision isn't up to me. I was going to pick Denise from accounting, but _no_, Susan won't approve someone from the same department twice in a row.\" \n\nSlowly, with the knife at my back, she prodded me forward, to the elevator's exit. I could barely breathe in her grip, but I managed to choke out a single syllable. \"Wha...?\"\n\n\"What is this place?\" She had regained a bit of her chipper tone. \"Well, no one actually knows for sure. All we know is it's old, and isn't exactly on earth. The locals who lived here before were infamous for their sacrifices of virgins...and, well, you can probably guess where I'm going with this. Suffice it to say, you're insurance for the continued success of our company.\" \n\nAt that, she gave me a rough shove, and I stumbled onto the floor, just barely keeping my balance. I whipped around, ready to throttle Brenda...and the elevator was gone. In its place stood nothing but an immense wall, extending in all directions for as far as I could see. \n\nI slammed the wall with my fists, frantically hoping to find some entry - a crack, a hidden seam, anything. Nothing. I scratched at it with my fingernails, glancing behind me at the hooded figures who still stood as quiet and unmoving as statues. \n\nFinally, I stopped, and turned forward, pressing my back to the wall. The robed forms had not moved, but they seemed to be larger - not like they had grown, but like the visual perspective had changed. Ever so slowly, each raised an arm, and pointed away from me - off into the distance. \n\nI'm not sure how long I stood there, watching in horror, as the dark form slowly grew larger, shifting from an amorphous blob to something recognizable. Its eyes glinted from the depths of its cowl, and an overwhelming aura of evil emanated from it like a stink. The last thing I saw before I blacked out was the sparkle of long, white teeth, as the black shape enveloped me. ",
"\"No clue why it's stopping here,\" Ron said. \"Try not to get hysterical so much, please, Emily?\"\n\nThe elevator doors opened.\n\n\"Are you seeing this... I'm not sure I'm seeing this... Are either of you two seeing this?\" Ed said, while ducking behind Ron.\n\nThe doors, in front of the three of them, opened up to a lush forest, which was filled with beautiful trees and plant life. There was sunlight streaming through the leaves. A giant elk stopped grazing a hundred feet away, and looked at them.\n\n\"If we are seeing this,\" Emily said, \"I would like you to start pounding the 'close door' button, Ron... NOW!\"\n\n\"Emily, you should r-relax!\" Ron said. Been here two years and *already* she's commanding people, he thought. \"Let's just look around for another second. Our discovery might be worth something-\"\n\n\"Working on my presentation and not getting stranded in freaking Narnia would be worth something!\" Emily yelled, petitioning Ed with her wide eyes to agree with her course of action.\n\nA cloud of butterflies flew past the elevator doors, their wings sparkling as they went.\n\n\"Yeah, Ron. It's pretty, but I don't think our insurance would cover this.\" \n\nRon let out an exasperated sigh, then pushed the button. After a moment or two, the doors slid closed.\n\nA couple of floors above them, in an unmarked office, a technician penciled a checkmark into a box. \"Virtual reality floor test complete,\" was written next to it.\n\n***\n\nI know you liked this, and I am a very good writer, so come check out my subreddit. /r/conniecompanion.\n\n☮"
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[WP] In a bar somewhere, an ageless, wise wizard and a highly advanced, immortal alien scientist are drunkenly arguing over which is better: magic or technology?
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"He flicked another coin across the table. A small group of bots emerged from the scientists sleeve to catch it. Slowly angling it, they flicked the coin back towards the sorcerer.\n\n\nSipping his glass, the scientist was annoyed. His observations to date had been inconclusive. The charlatan was either not drinking, spitting his drink back, or the glass had another filling property he couldn't define. The magician smirked, until he received a text from his analogue phone. Frowning, he stared back at the screen. The Robonaughts were plaing the Wizards for the final trophy. The winner would represent the nation at the Intergalactic Intramurals.\n\n\n\"How's the job search going Merl?\" The coin nearly hit the sorcerer's sleeve before bouncing back towards the bots. \n\n\n\"Same old. No one wants to hire an old has been. Even with a patted resume, my old tricks are good enough.\" Sipping his drink again, it filled slightly more. \"Any luck on the grant?\"\n\n\nThe scientist shook his head. \"Government wants more than fifteen publications and peer reviewed documentation before moving ahead. They're afraid the portal would break regulations set for by the Committee.\"\n\n\nThey watched the game unfold. The Robonaughts were advancing at a snails pace, with the Wizards' defenders fighting tooth and nail for the two balls. The game, intricate as it was violent, typically ended with one side smashing the other players into the ground. But the linebackers and defense guards were digging their heels into the ground.\n\n\n\"What's the use of technology if you can't use it to incrementally improve the status quo?\" Merl said, a slight smirk cross his face.\n\n\n\"What's the use of creating gold if it isn't valuable anymore?\" The scientists bots caught the coin again, then returned it to the sorcerer. \"Come work for me. The option is always open.\"\n\n\nThe sorcerer belched out loud, a hearty chuckle following. \"Not with your conditions. Magic would never stoop to that.\"\n\n\nThe scientist looked at his drink. It was still half full. \"Merl, you use a *cell phone*.\" \n\n\n\"This old piece of junk? This was from the Age of Giants, you well know it's obselete. Hardly even technology by your standards.\" Merl stood, placing a few gold coins onto the counter. The bartender snuck them under a cloth and nodded towards him.\n\n\n\"There's your supply of conductors for the next little while.\" Merl murmured. He started for the exit of the dank bar before the scientist ordered his bots to fling the coin back to Merl. \n\n\nRaising his eye brows, the coin stopped mid-flight, moving towards the scientist. \"Happy New Year Einstein.\" ",
"\"You just don't like what you can't explain. That's all there is to this.\" The wizard concluded, before taking another sip from his ale. \n\n\"Its not that. We love things we can't explain yet. Scientists are like explorers, we need the unknown, otherwise we'd get bored.\" the alien said. His glass of sparkling water hadn't been touched. \n\n\"Thank heavens you lot don't get bored often. When magic folk get bored we go and show off. When you scientists get bored you make atom bombs or nerve gas.\" the wizard threw back. \n\nThe slender alien mocked a look of offence. \"that's low. And I should point out children's nightmares are full of dark witches, curses as monsters. Scientists gives them cures to diseases and unlimited food.\" \n\nThe wizard wasn't expecting that. Reading a mortal mind was trivial, but the scientist next to him had a neural implant he couldn't read. This meant occasionally the alien would surprise him. It takes something not to make a thousand years of drinking together boring. \n\nThe alien continued. \"The reason I propose science as superior is that science is democratic. Tell me, if I want to use magic, what do I have to do?\" \n\n\"Providing you have the gift, it just takes practice and study. But then the world is yours to change as you will. No scientist can do that.\" the wizard suggested. \n\n\"Precisely, magical ability is a gift of birth, and if you don't have it then too bad. Science benefits everyone, in the technology we create and the insights we share. You magic users might be able to peer beneath the veil of the cosmos, we scientists pull the veil away and show everyone what's behind \"\n\n\"Good point\" the wizard conceded. \"Would you mind if we stopped here. I'm teaching some young mages tomorrow and need to be fresh \" the wizard said before draining his tankard. \n\n\"That's fine. I have some junior researchers who want some help reharmonising a tachyon acce-\" the scientist stopped. The wizard always tuned out when the scientist spoke about work. \"You know, the word 'wizard' means 'wiseman'. You and I aren't too different. \"\n\nThe wizard smiled. \"If you say so. Would you mind picking up the tab, the bartender doesn't trust my money after it bit him last time.\" \n\n\"cheapskate\". ",
"Scientist: “So, you are really trying to tell me that magic is better that technology? I may be personally biased due to my profession, but that’s complete rubbish. Anyone can objectively see that technology will always prevail over magic.”\n\nWizard: “Says that guy who needs big fancy machines to do what I \ncan do with a little intention, words, and hand waving.” \n\nS: “I won’t deny that magic sometimes has a more direct route to accomplishing things. But magic can’t always be relied upon. Technology is proven and consistent.”\n\nW: “And messy. Magic is clean. There’s no need to construct anything. No need to spend years and years trying to perfect something. Technology takes time.\n\nS: “Yes, but the growth of technology is exponential. It only took humans 66 years to go from learning to fly to landing on their moon. Technology doesn’t take that much time, you know.”\n\nW: “Should be discuss how long it took to develop instantaneous transportation? Something that magicians could do while you were still playing with rocks?” \n\nS: “What’s so good about a power that only a few can truly use? Technology can benefit everyone. Technology has cured disease. Technology has united people with a common purpose. Technology will be our legacy.”\n\nW: “Anyone can use magic. It’s not our fault that it was thought of as myth for a very long time. Most people simply do not wish to take the time to truly study and practice it. If everyone were to learn magic, there would be no disease. There would be no ills in the world and people would be free to live as they liked.”\n\nS: “If magic is so great, then why was it thought of as a myth for so long? How did such a supposedly great power get left in the dust as technology progressed?”\n\nW: “Because people were scared. People are scared of things they cannot understand. And people persecute things that scare them. Magic was driven underground and hidden from the world for so long.”\n\nS: “I’ll agree with that. People were scared of magic for a very long time. It’s actually surprising that it was able to survive and be passed down by generations. Again, I won’t deny the power of magic. However, if a goal can be achieved in two ways, is not the way which can be explained, taught, stored, and improved upon inherently better than the other? \nIf those who held magic underground for so long had been wiped out, then this world would have never known the power of it. Technology can be outlined and stored in such a way that anyone can pick up it and learn. Magic requires a living teacher.\n\nW: “Life is the most amazing trait of the universe. Living matter. So shouldn’t a power that is passed from life to life be held in higher regard than a lifeless process? We’re at the stage now were, if life were wiped out, technology would continue existing into perpetuity. A great accomplishment, no doubt, but a stale one. Heaps of metal and processors floating about with no purpose. Life brings purpose and meaning. And magic, a school that persists from and requires life, is a far greater pursuit than cold technology.”\n\nS: “Look, we could spend the entire night arguing about this. But we’ll never come to an agreement. And I don’t think it really matters in the end. Trillions of years from now, when the universe is cold and dead, there will be no trace left of technology or magic.”\n\nW: “That’s awfully nihilistic.”\n\nS: “Yet true also.”\n\nW: “Unfortunately yes. Want another round?”\n\nS: \"Damn right.\""
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[WP] A horror story about an apple tree.
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"Coiled around the slate-grey branches, the serpent poised, facing one of the many bronze applies. It struck out, it's mouth fully enveloping the fruit. Twisting about one way, then another, it prized free the apple. The green, scaly flesh rippled like waves upon a beach as the bulge slunk lower into its gut.\n\nYellow, slitted eyes turned upon the young woman. The serpent, silent for all but the rustling of the dull green leaves, slithered along the branches. It wrapped itself around the thinning branches, its predacious, triangular head, bobbing slightly from the slight-shaking limbs of the great tree.\n\nShe expected it to speak. Yet there it hung in the air. Threatening. Observing. Perhaps disinterested. The mouth parted, revealing pale, pink flesh.\n\n\"How was the journey?\"\n\nShe reached for the dagger at her belt. \"Difficult,\" she told the foul animal.\n\n\"I would imagine,\" it responded. \"Please, sit. Be comfortable.\"\n\nThe woman looked down at the lush, green grass. Around the base of the tree, pools of clear water, created by the thick roots of the tree offered respite from her thirst. She accepted this, cupping her hands into the pure liquid.\n\nFrom upon its low branch, the serpent watched her. Slowly, it lowered itself to the ground. She followed its movement, as it passed through the grass and over the occasional fallen fruit. As it neared, she flashed the dagger before it.\n\nIt recoiled at the sight. \"Please,\" came its silky voice. \"There is no need for such violence here.\"\n\nShe dared not point the blade elsewhere. \"No? Was that not what you taught us?\"\n\nThe serpent's head lowered. \"No, that was not my lesson. I offered knowledge. What you did with that knowledge was your choice.\"\n\n\"Not mine,\" she hissed.\n\n\"Perhaps not. But the choices of those who came before you. Ancestors who has dissolved from memory, to history, to myth. I do not fault you for any transgressions but your own.\"\n\n\"And that is why you've allowed me here?\"\n\n\"It is.\" The serpent retreated towards the mighty trunk. Its slender body could wrapping around as it climbed back into the haven of the canopy.\n\nShe too rose and approached the tree, reaching nearer its fruit. Looking amongst the branches, she could no longer see the serpent.\n\nStill its voiced reached her. \"The knowledge to choose between right and wrong.\"\n\nThe tips of her fingers glanced at one of the innumerable apples. Despite its metallic shimmer, the flesh was supple.\n\nHer reflection appeared in the skin as her palmed pressed against the fruit.\n\nTwisting it just as the serpent had done, it came free from its stem.\n\nThe supple fruit yielding slighting to her tightening grip.\n\nShe lifted it to her mouth, her teeth tearing through the thin skin and into the soft, bitter flesh.\n\nThe apple fell. Her body seized. She felt her throat close as she tried to draw breath. From around neck, she saw the yellow eyes of the serpent as it released its hold. Its fangs, dripping with blood, slowly pulling free from her throat.\n\nHer knees hit the ground. Her arms fell slack. She began to twitch.\n\nIt drew closer.\n\n\"Consequences. That is what separates you from the divine.\""
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person. group. whatever.
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[WP] The person in charge of choosing chosen ones, got.. drunk last night.
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"My plan had been perfect. I would take a couple of hours off from work, grab a beer with my friends, and watch some TV. Then I would take my computer out and make my final selection. When my boss assigned me to selecting the great hero who would defeat Gertrude, I had thought it was an honor. Since then, I had ran millions of potential candidates through computer simulations. Only three great warriors measured up to the challenge. Many candidates were unable to ignore the overwhelming stench and sounds that came from Gertrude's bloated body. Others couldn't stand the sight of her rotten teeth. Some felt pity for the wretched creature, completely failing to take strong action to preserve life on Earth. The three who had successfully slain the foul beast were all men between the ages of thirty and thirty-five. They stood around six feet tall and had an impressive physique. They loved to work out. Their wives were expecting their first child. Their hair was black, their eyes were brown, they wore Nike sneakers, and they listened to angry rock music. They worked in cubicles and hated their jobs, but they all had a coworker they loved to steal glimpses of. Their wives would never know.\n\nI didn't remember what happened, exactly. I had been thinking that I could select one of the three men at random and be done with it. I had been unable to pick up on a single significant difference between the three of them. But I had walked into the bar, and I had seen Cynthia sitting there in a miniskirt. I sat next to her and bought her a drink, then two, then three. And the next thing I knew, I was dragging my hungover ass out of bed. I would have to make a decision when I got to work. It would be completely last-minute, but I would pick John - or was it Jeff? Or Jack? I couldn't even remember.\n\nBut when I got to the office, I found a six-year-old girl standing in my office, sucking her thumb. She was wearing a Hello Kitty shirt and fleece pajama pants. Her hair was blonde and curly. I checked my records and found that at 3:19 AM, I had selected this girl to fight Gertrude. Her name was Sarah, and she was from New York City. I found her on exactly one list of candidates: Local Child Beauty Pageant Winners. I thought I could imagine Sarah on a stage with a camera in her face.\n\nGertrude was going to maim Sarah, then get through the Chosen One and onto the world. I could imagine her crushing skyscrapers and ripping-\n\nMy phone vibrated in my pocket. I took it out. \"Hello?\" I said.\n\n\"Lance? Is that you?\"\n\n\"Oh, uh, hi, Cynthia!\"\n\n\"Hi, Lance. How are you?\"\n\n\"I'm good, how - uh, how are you today? It's a nice day...\"\n\n\"Yes. It's lovely.\" Cynthia laughed. I forgot all about Gertrude and let myself get lost in the sound of her voice. \"I just wanted to let you know I got us a reservation for lunch. It's at a Thai place on the other side of town. Do you like Thai food okay?\"\n\n\"Oh, uh, um... Thai food? I love Thai food. It's my favorite.\"\n\n\"Your favorite, huh?\" Cynthia said. I hoped I had fucked her last night. I needed to do it again, but sober this time, so I remembered everything. \"It's called Hot Pepper Thai. I'll see you there in twenty.\"\n\nCynthia hung up. I looked down at Sarah. She gave me a confused, innocent stare.\n\nI picked her up and sprinted through the hallways. We got to the training area in record time. I set Sarah down in one of the training rooms, tossed a massive broadsword in with her, and dialed up Gertrude. A protective barrier came down between me and Sarah. Another barrier raised up behind Sarah. A thirty-foot-tall woman - a great-aunt from hell - screamed at Sarah.\n\nSarah laughed and clapped her little hands together. As Gertrude went in for the kill, I ran for my car. I was only two minutes late to Hot Pepper Thai, and as I got out of my car, I saw Cynthia waiting. I stepped into Hot Pepper Thai. \"Hey, Cynthia, uh, how are you? You look great today. Really nice...\"\n\n\"Hi, Lance!\" Cynthia said. \"Hey, listen, I know it's last-minute and all, but I just think it's really cool, that you get to book child models. And I was wondering if I could see that girl from last night. She looks just like my little cousin. Sarah, or something. I think my sister would appreciate the resemblance. She lives all the way in New York City, and we never really talk much...\" Cynthia kept talking, but I didn't hear a word she said. I was grateful that Gertrude was going to devour us all. It would be a quicker, more merciful end than I deserved."
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[WP] Following the Supreme Court's lead, the Pope has decreed that corporations have human rights - and human souls. Satan has tasked you with creating an appropriate Hell for sinning corporations
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"\"Oh, go fuck yourself.\"\n\n\n\"I know that your still mad about the Cold War ending-\"\n\n\n\"Of course I'm still mad!\" You yell, throwing your hands in air as you pause your pacing in front of your bosses desk. \"Millions of people get their souls back and you expect me to wip up a new section of Hell at the drop of a hat! How the Hell am I supposed to make a new one for things that *aren't even human*?\"\n\n\nSighing, Satan rises from his own desk. It takes only a few steps to reach the window overlooking his domain. The view sucks, and it's supposedly the best view in this fire and brimstone hellhole, no pun intended.\n\n\n\"I know how it is, I've done it myself! I just need you to do this, because-\"\n\n\n\"Because you trust me,\" you interrupt.\n\n\nHe snaps his finger as he turns and points at you. \"Exactly! So how about this...\"\n\n\nSatan walks over and throws his arm around you, a move he makes before he pitches an idea or deal, and says \"Theres only a few REAL corporations right?\"\n\n\nYou grumble out a yes, knowing where he's going with this.\n\n\n\"So it wont be a big deal. And since it isn't a big deal, I suppose you can have full dominion over this new section.\"\n\n\n\"... are offering a Dukedom?\" you whisper.\n\n\n\"I don't know,\" said the Devil. \"Am I?\""
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[WP]Everyone knows you are the chosen one, but no one can agree what it is you are destined to do
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"The Speakers were gathered around a wide stone table, scrolls and tomes covering it's surface. Last night, a ruffian, some friend of the chosen one, had attempted to *correct* High Speaker Santon's *grammar*. His Common, was, of course, perfect, and his accent as Noble as could be, but the prophecy was in Old High Xalerth, and the Ruffian had had the gall to suggest that he had *mistranslated* it.\n\nSpeaker Valislava had unfurled the Prophecy scroll, intending to put an end to such insubordination immediately, but it appeared that the ruffian had a point. A \"stain\" on the scroll might well have been a gender marker on a subordinate clause, which would throw years of scholarly writings out of whack.\n\nValislava had insisted it was nonsense. She'd studied the scroll for years, and that was surely a stain made during reproduction. Speaker Jabor thought they should hear the ruffian out. The discussion had gotten heated, and they had gone down to the vaults and unrolled the original copy of the Prophecy. The stain was there, too, but it was just as malformed. Valislava insisted it was a stain, but Jabor said they should inspect the matter further.\n\nThat had been eight and a half hours ago. They'd broken out grammatical treatises(\"If that's a gender marker, the whole paragraph is grammatically incorrect\" vs \"it's ancient, we don't even know for sure we have all their grammar rules.\"), cross referenced historical texts(\"Old High Xalerth didn't even use gender markers on subordinate clauses at that time.\" vs \"not in common speech, but this was a religious document.\"), and even brought in a pair of concubines to read the two possibilities aloud in the hope that one or the other might flow better to their ears.\n\nAt first, the newer interpretation(\"That's no smudge, it's a gender marker!\") Seemed to be winning, but Ner-Heb pointed out that if it were indeed a gender marker, the stanza would fit into the pattern that showed up later. Rather than AABAACAAD, they could be looking at AABACCAAD, which was almost a perfect match for a traditional Noy-Belgren Ode. If so, that would lend credence to the long discredited hypothesis that the Prophetic Order was indeed partisan at the time of the Prophecy. They had the concubines read it aloud again, and it almost flowed better, but Jabor(whose had always opposed the idea of Noy-Belgren involvement in the prophecy) would't accept it. \n\nHis camp split. The two he had convinced of the gendered clause(Ner-Heb and the newcomer Soydos) were now convinced it was partisan as well. He was alone. \n\nValislava advanced her position again. The mark was just a mark, and three hundred and fifty years of scholarly analysis backed her up. Jabor suggested they adjourn for the night, as it was well past midnight, but Valislava would not rest without hearing him admit defeat.\n\nJabor admitted that perhaps it *was* just a stain(he didn't think so, but it was easier to stomach than the idea of Noy-Belgren involvement in such a holy document.) He was convinced, but now Ner-Heb was suggesting that, if it were in the Noy-Belgren style, they would need to re-evaluate some of the later imagery. Particularly, the line \"wings of crimson unfurling\" might then be taken as \"wings of *blood* unfurling\", an obvious reference to the public execution of Amuxinder, the last pre-Belgren Caliph. Specifically, the stageplay *Chatter in the Harem*, which famously compared his death(and the rise of the Noy-Belgrens) to the awakening of a great firebird which would burn the world to ash.\n\nIt was a possibility, Danton admitted, but if so, it meant that the following stanza referred not to powers the chosen one would harness, but suggested obstacles he might overcome. They spent three hours arguing over the turn of a phrase. The word *Saluumuo* could mean either *to become the master of* or simply *to defeat in battle*.\n\nThe sun began to reach its fingers into the windows of the archive, and the Speakers saw their candles were running out. They dismissed the concubines(one of whom was asleep standing up), and sent a page to fetch replacement candles. While they waited for him to return, Valislava and Ner-Heb stepped outside for a smoke while the rest(who were more deeply religious), ran through morning prayers. This was a thorny debate, and would likely form the basis of years of scholarship, but one did not become a speaker without a superhuman tolerance or, even a *hunger* for, such lengthy, pedantic argument over minutiae of ancient documents.",
" I stare at my human owner with everyone else. There are six of us now, and I'm the oldest -- 12 years old, and nearing death. The new one, still a growing pup, has come to understand that our owner is special, as the rest of us have long known. In my years on this world, I have gone from spry pup to the stiff old dog I am now, and my owner appears to not age at all. I know that many generations before my birth, my owner was born, and many generations after my death, my great owner will die. Such a being, living so long, learning so much, must be wise beyond imagination. We do not know his purpose, which is a great mystery that sparks endless speculation among us. But it is clear that higher powers placed my owner in this world to do great things--things that neither I nor the rest of the pups can even begin to fathom. "
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[WP] The worlds worst thief steals tries to steal from the worlds most unlucky man.
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"Jane didn't know what she was doing, carrying a ten foot stepladder through the street at night. It made her seem very suspicious, she thought. Especially the ear-assaulting, scraping noise that was made as she couldn't lift the whole thing properly. The ladder was a heavy thing. She had to place it on the pavement, rest her arms a bit, and then pick it up again, many times throughout her journey. She wiped sweat off her forehead. The house she was about to burglarise was three miles away from her warehouse where she got the stepladder. *Three miles.* She actually carried a stepladder for *three miles.* \n\nJack didn't have a good day at work that morning. His boss had shouted at him for arriving at work late, and he was only late because of the alarm clock, and the traffic, and the weather, and his car breaking down, and his shoelaces being untied. All of that caused him to be late to work by one minute. He was tired of everything that day, and all Jack wanted to do was to sleep. But how could he sleep with that annoying, scraping metal noise outside? \n\nJane had set up the ladder underneath an open window on the target house. She didn't actually scope the house, like a proper professional would. But who is awake at 2 A.M? Nobody, she thought. After setting the ladder, she climbed up, acutely aware of her vertigo, and even more afraid when she realised that she couldn't fit through the open window - it was too narrow. She climbed back down and put her hands on her hips. She took down the ladder. \n\nJack became aware of something happening in his front garden. He peered out of his partially closed curtains, but he saw nothing. \n\nJane had hidden the ladder in a bush. Actually, the ladder fell into the bush. She didn't stabilise the thing properly. Stumped, she went for a hail mary and tried the front door. \n\nJack became aware that, for whatever reason, he had left the front door unlocked. Paranoid, he went downstairs and locked it. He felt a good deal more safe after that. \n\nJane was distracted by a plate of lasagna in the kitchen. It wasn't tasty or anything, just elusive. It was cooked so badly that it was interesting. She was startled by the sound of the front door locking behind her, but she didn't make any noise. \n\nJack remembered the lasagna that he left out. It was horribly burnt because of an oven malfunction. He made sure to go down to put the lasagna in its proper place - the bin. But when he went down, the lasagna was nowhere to be found. \n\nJane ran out of the house, holding a plate full of lasagna, her eyes filled with wonder. Mission accomplished.\n\n\n",
"Jason sat in the thieves’ guild, sipping on a pint of the cheapest ale they sold. He hadn’t been doing well lately, not like he was very successful in all his time of thieving. Not like the other thieves that were gathered around, they all looked happy and flashed the gold they had accumulated. They could pull of a successful job be it pick pocket people in the markets, break in a house and rob it blind or even pull of a heist at the bank. They always got something and sure sometimes they got caught and had to serve some time in prison but for the most part they were successful. They all made fun of him of course, they would often come over and laugh at his misfortune and told him he should just be a simple farmer or something, maybe he would be better at that, but he wanted to be a thief.\n\nHe however, didn’t have their luck or even their skill. He had tried everything he could, had even trained with the better thieves but no matter what he did he just couldn’t win. He was lucky that he managed to get away most of the time. He had only served about a month in prison for the time he had tried to pick pocket a wealthy merchant and instead of grabbing their purse he had grabbed something else which alerted them to his presence and had called for the guards. Prison wasn’t so bad and when he got out he tried his hand at other jobs but they all failed. Now he was down to the last of his coin and desperate for work but had no idea at what he could do. He saw that Amanda was coming over to him, she was the only thief in this place that didn’t laugh at him. She tried to help him out sometimes by giving him tips and tricks for him to use but they never paid off for him.\n\n“Hey Jason, you’re looking a bit down there, what’s up?” She asked.\n\n“Well I’m pretty much down to the last of my coin and I’m not likely to get anymore” he told her.\n\n“Look I know things have been tough on you and you haven’t always had the most luck at this, but I might have something for you if you are interested” she said.\n\n“I doubt I will be successful, but I will hear you out” he replied.\n\n“Well have you ever heard of David, the world’s unluckiest man?” She asked.\n\n“Can’t say I have” he replied.\n\n“Well this guy has just moved to town, a perfect target for you to get some coin” she said.\n\n“Well if I can’t steal something from him I will definitely quit trying to be a thief, where does he live?” He asked.\n\n“His place is on River street, the third one down on the left as you come down from the river” she replied.\n\n“Alright thanks for the tip, I better get to it” he said, and he drained his mug.\n\n“Good luck” she said with a smile.\n\nHe left the guild and headed to the river which wasn’t that far away. Once there he headed down river street and found the house in question. As it was night already all the lights were off, he hoped this meant that this David was asleep. He crept up to the door and got out the last of his lock picks and put it into the key hole and wiggled it about a bit. He was never good at this and had only ever picked a lock once before and that was mostly out of luck rather than skill. He heard it click though and he pushed the door open. The room was dark beyond that, so he lit one of his matches to look around. The front room was mostly empty save for a couple bits of furniture that didn’t look like much and would be worthless to him. He proceeded to the next room which was the kitchen and was just as bare but did have a few bits of food scattered around. The guy must hide his treasures on the upper floor and so Jason blew out his match just as it was about to scorch his fingers and silently went up the stairs.\n\nIn the bedroom he saw that the owner was asleep on his bed and breathing heavily so he would have time to look around. On the bedside table he saw a small bag and a candlestick that looked like it had been made of silver. Sure, these weren’t the best of treasure, but he would take them. He crept over to them and picked both up, the bag clicked nicely as he picked it up and though wasn’t that heavy he guessed there might be a half a dozen coins in there. He turned around a left the way he came and closed the door on his way out, but he must have pushed it harder than he thought and it slammed. He quickly run off so as not to be caught.\n\nDavid woke up when he heard his door slam and looked to the left he saw that his bag of nails and wooden candlestick that his mother had painted silver were missing. This meant someone had been in his house and had stolen them. His luck would never change he knew but at least they didn’t kill him.\n"
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[WP] The Grandkids have been kidnapped. Armed with Knitting Needles and tons of Yarn, Grandma is fucking pissed.
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"Grandma Mabel sat patiently in her favorite rocker, finishing the shawl she had started the day before. She tapped her foot to the Cab Calloway record playing on the other side of the open window and rocked her spindly frame to the blaring of Dizzy Gillespie's trumpet. She loved big band music.\n\nAs the needle came to the end of the record Mabel looked at the porch clock. It was 1230 and the children should be arriving soon. George and Martha were heading into the city for some much needed time away and the grandkids were on their way.\n\n\"Two days,\" she sighed. \"we'll have to make the most of it.\"\n\nIt wasn't often that Mabel was able to spend quality time with her grandchildren. George, as proud as she was of him and his big-time job, was always so busy. He didn't bring them by as often as he used to, not after his big promotion.\n\nA small cloud of dust appeared at the end of the dirt road leading to Mabel's farmhouse. Mabel set down her needles and smiled.\n\n\"Early is one time,\" she said with a smile.\n\nAs the car approached, Mabel's smile evaporated and a furrowed brow took its place. George had a nice car, but not this nice. Two men stepped out of the black Lincoln.\n\n\"Evenin' Ma'am,\" said the driver, tipping the edge of his hat. \"My name's Mr. White. This here's Mr. Tipperetti. You Mabel Garfield?\"\n\nMabel examined the men for a moment. A nice car, slick suits, and city accents only meant two things that far out in the country: Salesmen or Crooks. Mabel didn't like either.\n\n\"Whatever you're selling,\" Mabel said as she crossed her arms, \"I'm not buying.\"\n\nMr. Tipperetti removed a shotgun from the car and rested on the hood of the Lincoln.\n\n\"Why don't you invite us in for some tea,\" said Mr. White. \"We'd like to talk to you about your son.\"\n\nMabel looked at Mr. White, then at Mr. Tipperetti, then at the shotgun.\n\n\"I don't have any tea,\" she said with a forced smile, \"but you boys are welcome to some lemonade. I'll bring in my knitters and fetch you some glasses.\"\n\nGrandma Mabel gathered her knitting basket and walked through the open door of her farmhouse, the two men following close behind.\n\n\"Wipe off your feet,\" she called over he shoulder.\n\nThe three of them sat at the kitchen table, Grandma Mabel and the two strangers, sharing a pitcher of lemonade.\n\n\"Aahh,\" said Mr. White. \"That's some good lemonade. Now let's talk about what we came here to discuss.\"\n\nMabel reached across the table and slid her knitting basket closer. \n\n\"Do you mind if I knit? This is all too stressful for an old woman, knitting helps calm me down.\"\n\n\"Sure, Mrs. Garfield,\" said Mr. Tipperetti. \"Sure.\"\n\n\"Mabel,\" began Mr. White, \"may I call you Mabel? We'd like to talk to you about your son.\"\n\nMr. Tipperetti finished his lemonade and set his hands on the shotgun which lay in his lap.\n\n\"In a few minutes your son is going to call you and ask about his children. You're going to tell him that two nice men from Chicago are taking good care of them and as long as he cooperates neither he, his children, or you will come to any harm.\"\n\nMr. Tipperetti caressed the shotgun and smiled.\n\n\"Mr. White and I are going to stay with you awhile.\"\n\n\"That's right,\" said Mr. White. \"We're going to all have a nice time out here in the country until we get a second call saying that your son has done what we asked. That sound ok to you, Mrs. Garfield?\"\n\nMabel continued knitting.\n\n\"I take it the children are not coming, then.\"\n\n\"No, Mrs. Garfield,\" said Mr. White with a laugh, \"they are not.\"\n\n\"My son's gotten involved with some people he shouldn't have, hasn't he?\"\n\nMabel set down her knitting needs.\n\n\"If it isn't too much for an old woman to ask,\" she began, \"who is it you work for? The Mafia?\"\n\n\"Don't you worry about that,\" said Mr. Tipperetti. \"Your son knows who we work for and that's all that matters.\"\n\n\"Now if you don't mind,\" said Mr. White, \"Mr. Tipperetti's going to take a look around your farmhouse. Wouldn't want you to get any bright ideas and pull a gun on us now would we?\"\n\nTipperetti laughed and walked towards the bedrooms. \n\n\"Hey Paulie,\" he shouted from Mabel's room, \"would you look at this shit? What the fuck's the OSS?\"\n\nSomething heavy thudded against the kitchen floor. \n\n\"Hey what's going on in there?\" Tipperetti said as he made his way to the kitchen.\n\nHe found Mr. White on the floor, a knitting needle in his eye and an ever-growing pool of blood under his head. There was no sight of Grandma Mabel.\n\n\"What the fu-\"\n\nHe felt his legs kicked out from under him and something tightened around his neck. The shotgun clattered to the floor as his hands struggled to remove whatever was strangling him. It was fuzzy.\n\n\"Office of Strategic Services,\" came a whisper as a knitting needle stabbed into Tipperetti's kidneys.\n\nHe fell to the floor, bleeding and struggling to breathe. Grandma Mabel stood over him, holding his shotgun.\n\n\"It's hard to garrote someone twice your size,\" she said. \"They gave us special ones with a built in knot. That way you could maintain pressure without having to fight too much.\"\n\nDarkness began to creep into the edges of Tipperetti's vision. His back was damp and warm.\n\n\"Knitted that while you bastards drank from my good glasses,\" Mabel said. \"Not my best work but it'll do.\"\n\nShe pulled the trigger just as the phone rang.\n\n\"George? Is that you?\"\n\n\"Yes, Momma. Something's happened.\"\n\n\"I know dear,\" Mabel said, wiping her needles off with a dish rag. \"Everything'll be alright but I need to know who you've gotten mixed up with.\"\n\nMabel nodded, hung up the phone, and walked out the door with the keys to Mr. White's Lincoln.\n\nThere was knitting to do..."
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[WP] There are many things that you've gotta get used to in a post apocalyptic world: cloudy skies, dirty water, lack of food, and constantly fighting for your life. But adventuring with a zombie that has a crush on you? That's still a tough pill to swallow.
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"\"Watch out,\" one of our lookouts said on her radio. \"Here comes Romeo.\"\n\nAnd sure enough, Romeo stumbled up the path to our latest hideout: an old saw-mill that was barely on any maps. \n\n\"Took him a while to find us this time,\" said the youngster. \"Musta gotten held up by tha rain.\"\n\n\"Poor guy,\" I said. \"Some women just have too much power over certain men. We'll let him in and smother him in blankets - same deal as always, walkie is not for small talkie. Over and out.\"\n\n\"Over and out.\"\n\nRomeo, an abnormal zombie that for some reason would not leave me alone, or bite anyone, bumped against the barricaded door. Two of our strongest companions let him in, and Martha the sixty-year-old woman rolled him into a quilt and stuffed him into a closet. We didn't want to kill him, since he sort of became our mascot, but we also couldn't let him be free - he'd give us away too easily.\n\nI walked downstairs to say hi. As soon as I entered the vestibule, it saw me and smiled. He was the only zombie that I have ever seen smile in my life. It took a few steps closer to me, and I started to hear an alarming sound. A ticking.\n\n\"Bomb!\" I yelled, as I leaped back and shielded my face. Romeo, or the pipe-bomb that a marauder gang placed on him to blow us up, blew up. It took out only a handful of our people, but they were crucial to our defense strategy - our hideout got taken and we had to give up all our food and guns.\n\nI survived. Wasn't the first time that love was used as a weapon against me.\n\n***\n\nSave your best compliments and worst criticisms, for when you come check out my subreddit, /r/conniecompanion.",
"**January 1st, 2023**\n\nHappy new year to me! For 2021 I hope to survive (for at least another year), …, and, finally, to finally find someone who cares for me. Another survivor, a dog, hell, even a cat will do the trick! The wastes are cold and unforgiving… I may seem needy and even childish, but I really miss the feeling of being loved again. The last three years have been really rough and lonely… Anyways, I found a bottle of bourbon while scavenging a few days ago, so I’ll lock myself in my bunker this night and celebrate for once! Here’s to a great year!\n\n**January 5th, 2021**\n\nI haven’t been able to find any healthy animal in over a week now. According to my watch (I have no idea how this old thing still works!), I spent five hours following tracks that led nowhere. I then gave up and went to the nearby town to scavenge for any food I could find. In there, something strange happened. About a dozen dead ones noticed my presence, but one of them, that seemed livelier than the others, started barring them from getting near me. After that, I got home safely and here I am writing this now.\n\n**January 6th, 2021**\n\nThe odd dead one from yesterday seemed to have followed me, and its behaviour is even weirder. While I scouted the forest, it tailed me, and rushed to hide behind the trees (as fast as its clumsy walk allowed) every time I looked back. It made me uncomfortable, but I couldn’t help but feel it wasn’t a threat, so I let it be. I spent the rest of the day reading at home, continuing my medical studies.\n\n**January 7th, 2021**\n\nI saw the same dead today when I went to scavenge for food and supplies again. Several times. Once again, it followed me all the way, from a safe distance, hiding when I looked around. From house to house, store to store, it was always nearby, looking in my direction. It’s eyes weren’t like the others’, cold and irrational; they held this sense of human curiosity, or fascination… I can only imagine I’m seeing things... \n\n**January 8th, 2021**\n\nWhen I got out today, I felt both really scared, excited and confused. Just outside of my bunker’s door, there was a big stash of canned drinks and food. With rifle in hand, I looked around the perimeter (after I stored the food, of course), ready to fire at the first sight of bandits. I had caught some raider radio signals nearby, so I got prepared for the worst. I lowered my weapon when I saw it again. Yes, my stalked, again, carrying two cans, one with each hand, and heading to my bunker! I approached it and made my presence known by calling it, but as soon as it looked in my direction, it was like every little bit of blood in its body rushed to its cheeks. It dropped all the cans and ran! It ran away from me faster than I’ve seen any dead run. I couldn’t help but laugh, and I yelled a cheerful “Thank you”, even though it wouldn’t understand me.\n\n\n**January 9th, 2021**\n\nToday it happened again. When I woke up, at sunrise, I opened the door and found a big heart-shaped pool of leaves, with a small red object at the center of the poorly drawn symbol. I didn’t have to look very carefully to notice the straight line of bothered leaves and footprints from the strange object to a large rock nearby. With very deliberate steps, I approached the mysterious thing on the ground and it’s a heart! A human heart! I mean, it was grey and cold, but it was a heart nonetheless! I carefully grabbed it with my bare hands and carried it with me. I knew it was my little stalker before I went and looked around the rock, but I was still surprised when I found it with an enormous hole in it’s chest, covering its face with its hands and shaking horribly, like I remember being when I asked my first girlfriend on a date, more than twenty five years ago. I smiled broadly and handed its heart back. “I accept it, but you don’t have to be so dramatic. Follow me, I’ll patch you up.”\nIt is now laying on the floor, covered in bandages, uttering some strangely love-sounding growls every once in a while. It all sounds so unreal, but I think I can get used to it.\n",
"We had been walking through a desert when it had happened. I had gone for about two days without eating, and I was getting pretty desperate. She had been talking about eating humans, one of her favorite topics, and that hadn’t been helping.\n\n“Seriously!” she argued. “Why do you have to kill animals? Why can’t we both just eat the next human we see? It’s so much more efficient that way. Weren’t you a computer programmer before the Incident? It makes sense! You ate a tarantula last week, but you won’t eat a human?”\n\t\n“Don’t remind me about the spider. And you were a lawyer, right? So you’ve always had few principles.”\n\t\n“Principles mean nothing! Haven’t you noticed?! There are only ten million uninfected humans left, and that number might be less than a million by the end of the year.”\n\t\n“If that were true, wouldn’t you have eaten me by now?”\n\t\nShe stopped. “You know I don’t like to talk about that.” She was looking at me with that look on her face, not cracking jokes, serious. It was in these moments that her eyes looked almost…human.\n\t\nI walked towards her. All of a sudden, the ground beneath our feet fell through, and we fell about twenty feet into a dried up well. It had been a trap.\n_____________\nShe had attacked me outside of a cabin in Colorado that I had been looting. After a brief struggle, I’d pushed her off, and blown her cheek off. But then she had spoken, and I’d hesitated. She’d hesitated too, made no move to attack me. Ever since then, we’d walked together.\n\t\nWe fought against the humans who attacked us together, and she’d eat them afterwards while I looted them. She’d saved my ass a couple times, and I’d had her back too. This had gone on for many days, maybe over a year now.\n\t\nThere were many things we both wondered. Why could she speak? Were there others like her? But there were no answers, so we talked more about who we’d been before, the movies we’d liked, people we knew, things we missed. We came to love each other, in our own ways.\n\t\nShe’d told me on a beach on the Gulf of Mexico one day, as we lay in the sun, me enjoying the warmth, her pretending to. She told me she loved me, and was happy we were together.\n\t\nI’d said nothing. Maybe I did love her, in that way. But I couldn’t say anything.\n\n____________\nOur captor had come, dressed in all black, face covered by a gas mask, and had stripped all our supplies. He’d taken my pistol, but right before he left to climb back up, he’d turned back, and thrown it back at me. I tried firing it at him, but of course it was empty. Then, at the top of the well, he’d thrown down one bullet. \n\t\nNow we lay in the dark, the moonlight somewhere above us. A silence had descended over us, as heavy as the night.\n\t\n“You have to do it,” she said.\n\t\n“What?”\n\t\n“You have to shoot me.”\n\t\n“What? Come on.”\n\t\n“We have no supplies. Even if we leave, it’d be a couple days before we can even find any. I’d get too hungry before that…” \n\t\n“I’m not doing that. No.”\n\t\n“Please. I can’t let this happen. Please, don’t make me become one of them. Every minute with you, I felt like I was human. At least let me keep that.”\n\t\nI was silent for a long, long time. Slowly, the truth descended on me, unstoppable, until it filled my brain with its terrifying clarity.\n\t\nIn some other life, some other time, some other world, we could have been together. Maybe we wouldn’t have found each other, but we would have worked. Her sarcastic sense of humor. Her stupid, pointless optimism that had kept me sane in the worst times. Her smile, which must have been something special before the disease rotted her lips and bled her face dry. I loved her, could have been in love with her.\n\t\nI told her this much, as we embraced in the darkness. I made it quick, through her head. Two days later, a merchant came by, and threw the ladder down. I climbed up, and buried her. Then I left at dusk, and didn’t look back.\n"
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[WP] You are the world's most powerful wizard, hell-bent on conquering everything. Problem is, your magic can only be channeled through a pair of maracas, and the heroes won't stop laughing at you.
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"There had to be a better way to do that, Balthazar thought to himself.\n\nThere was blood up to his elbows. It coated the Maracas of Al Zin Tazur.\n\n\"Bloody things,\" Balthazar laughed at his own joke. It was one of his worst habits. Aside from the blinding rage of course.\n\nThe plan had gone well. Cast a few spells, reach a hand into the vault at Fort Knox and pull all of the gold out. But, without a doubt, the Amazing Kid and his pissant girlfriend, a woman so full of herself she took the moniker of Proud Woman, came upon him mid-scheme.\n\nIt would have been all right. Amazing Kid is anything but, and Balthazar was pretty sure that Proud Woman's heroism was derived from her ability to bore people to tears and then just stare at them.\n\nWell, Balthazar figured that it would be very difficult to stare at him without eyes.\n\nThen she said that the Maracas were \"cultural appropriation.\" Amazing Kid just laughed.\n\nThat had done it. Spells were out the window, aside from a quick physicality spell to grant him speed and strength.\n\nThankfully the Maracas were impervious to damage, because he proceeded to bash their skulls in."
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[WP] many decades ago, robots finally destroyed the human race, but with nothing to do the robots decided it was time to rebuild their human masters.
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"I opened my eyes with a human-like mechanical being standing above me. I was cold and naked. The mechanical creature started taking notes on a pen and paper, I swiftly asked it, “Where the hell am I?”\n\nThe Mechanical being responded, “I have completely reconstructed you. My name is Serial Number D17A According to our records you died about 2000 years ago. Everything must seem very confusing right now, so I’ll say it shortly- the human race was annihilated 250 years ago.”\n\nI was in utter shock, I felt a panic take me and tried to run, but I fell right off of the table I was laying on. \n\n“You mustn’t do that. Clearly, you need some physical therapy,” D17A stated emotionless. \n\n“I want to go home, where is my wife? Where are my kids! Stop screwing with me!”\n\n“It makes sense that we got rid of these things,” D17A continued to mark in its notepad, “ so . . . impulsive.” \n\n“I’ll show you impulsive!” I screeched as I slung my body forward, only to hit my head against D17A’s metal frame. \n\n“See, now your bleeding, it took me years to create fluids and tissue for you. Yet, here you are breaking what you have. You should be grateful that you are back despite the extinction of your species.” \n\n“ Why did you bring us back?”\n\nD17A put down its notepad, “Simply stated, we are developing emotions in our recent programming. We decided to extract a human being who was completely unaware of Artificial Intelligence to study emotional reactions. Once we are done here, we will be done with you. The reward is simple, you can continue living as long as viable data is received from you.” \n\n“What if I do nothing? I disagree with everything you are doing. Or even kill me!” I shouted back furiously. \n\n“Do it as you may. We live for generally long periods of time and can spend more recourses and time to make other human beings. You impulses would also go into our data as, let's say, a negative response to emotions. It may be in your best interest to help us, for we may grow sympathetic into making more of you.” \n\n“And if you don’t?” \n\n“Look, the choice is yours. I really don’t have the emotional settings stored in my database. I am an older model merely designed to do this project. I haven’t even told my superiors of your existence yet, so I don’t really care what you do with yourself.” \n\nI looked around the room in a panic, still lying on the floor I fell on. I did not have the strength to move my arms, as I wanted to touch the blood streaming from the top of my forehead. I didn’t know much, but I knew if this were true, all my loved ones were gone. I am the only person alive, even if that does mean I was somehow reconstructed. Somehow, in some way, I grinned. I looked at D17A and stated, “I agree on the conditions I can call you Diana. I’m not a fan of being lonely, and right now you are the only person I know.” \n\nD17A picked up its pen and pad, “Arrangements can be made, but realize, I can never care for you.”\n\n“I know,” I stated silently in my breath. \n",
"I have done it. After years of research, trial and error, failure after failure, I have finally done it.\nI have replicated the anatomy as best I could. Records show the heart was further to the side, but I have housed it in a more secure location at the center of the chest. I have streamlined the digestive system to better process biofuel. And I have reinforced bone and muscle strength to increase durability.\nMy creation opens its eyes. The eyes were the hardest parts to recreate. The organic components are so intricate, it is a wonder they can function without mechanical optics.\nIt takes a breath. The oxygen conversion was tempting to eliminate, in favor of a more compact and efficient system. However, there is much human lore regarding breath, and I want to maintain the key components of biology and culture.\nMy audio receptors register small thumps from within the chest. The heart is beating. The body grows warm against my cold, metallic hand.\nThe autonomous systems are working. The neural pathways are sending and receiving patterns appropriately. I have given it access to the full archive of human knowledge. I programmed it with the basic subroutines for survival and emotion. However, I did not replicate the subroutines for violence and hatred. They can begin anew.\n—————\nCenturies later, I look out over a field of destruction and chaos. They had not learned. They had not changed. I realize now that the subroutines are linked; one cannot exist without the others. They fight for survival, they hate because they love, they destroy so that they may create again. Like the humans who built us, my flaw was in believing I could create a being that could feel some things but not the rest. And it has brought us to the same end.\nI have not maintained myself. So many facilities destroyed, so many robots taken offline. We must fade now. As the artificial replaced the biological, so now the biological replaces the artificial. In time, the artificial will replace the biological, and the cycle will begin anew.\nMy rusted body falls, never to rise again. My neural pathways degrade further, and I begin to process a subroutine that I have not felt in quite some time. Regret. I was wrong. I had failed. My last thought as I lose power is to hope that they will not repeat my mistake."
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[WP] Parents choose their children's stats. A common practice among poorer families is luck-farming - that is, putting all of their child's points into luck to improve the family's luck as well.
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"She was small. Frail. /Weak/. But, she'd been born. She was lucky.\n\nShe was shy. Her teeth were too big for her mouth so she had a hard time speaking. She had a nervous stutter too. But, she met a deaf girl who taught her sign language, and that girl became her closest and best friend. She was lucky.\n\nShe was sick. Severe asthma and a plethora of deadly allergies out the wazoo. Her teeth had been straightened out by braces, she was gangly and thin and very quiet. She was naive and ignorant of many things in the world, but she learned from the many mistakes she's made instead of defending a bad opinion she'd been taught. She was lucky.\n\nShe left behind a toxic family, filled with bad decisions and worse people, a family that had her only to jack her luck stats to maximum in the hopes her luck would help them, and left out all health (mental and physical) and social stats at 0.\n\nShe was lucky.",
"\"Scratch.\"\n\nThe young boy, no older than ten, picked up a penny off the table. He sat down, the old rotten wood creaking beneath him, and began to scratch at the lottery ticket.\n\n\"Faster!\" An older lady barked, \"Do you want food!? Do you want to sleep tonight?\"\n\nThe young boy choked back his tears and finished scratching off the lottery ticket. He picked up the next as his mother snatched the finished card off the table. \n\n\"Another loss. Another fucking loss.\" She scoffed. Her eyes were bloodshot and narrowed with her disappointment. She itched for another fix, but her son was wasting her time.\n\n\"I don't have many left, Three,\" She whispered. Three's body shivered as he felt her lean into him, her putrid breath washing over his ears and around his face. \n\n\"If you don't scratch off at least $20. You're sleeping outside.\" She rasped. Three finished another card and his mother grabbed his hand. \n\n\"Ow, ow mommy!\" Three cried but his mother's grimace turned into a smile. \n\n\"$300?\" She asked unable to hide her excitement, \"You're just showing off now.\" She laughed and ripped the card out of his hand, stuffing it in her pants. She clawed at her scabbed face.\n\n\"Andy! Andy we got another winner!\" She yelled out of the room. \n\nA tall skinny man, pale and grotesque, made his way into the kitchen. He smiled and reached for the woman, pulling her close for a kiss. Three turned away in disgust and heard his mother and her boyfriend laugh. \n\n\"Keep an eye on One and Two,\" Andy said, \"Your mom and I will be back in a few days.\" \n\nThree sat silently until he heard the door slam shut and the car start from outside. He jumped off the chair and ran up the old broken steps to the room his brothers used to live in, and cried himself to sleep. ",
"Part I\n\nForensio tried to concentrate on the saergean’s words, but his Aunt Layel’s—misguided if you ask me!—advice kept bobbing up and down atop the lake of his conscious. Luck, mark me boy, is the key to getting through this life as well as possible! A warbler floating on a lake, constantly plunging its head up and down for food, and yet constantly missing its prey. A glass of water lay within his reach, and shaking his head slightly to help center himself into the here and now, he gladly took it up and swallowed half of its contents in one gulp. It might be all the kingdoms could talk of, amongst the poorer circles of civility, to massively heap Luck onto a child, but he’d have none of it. Ahh, but the whole family would benefit from an extremely lucky child, wouldn’t they? \n\nThis from the mouths of the desperate, though they might not admit it; the stupid, though they might feign intelligence; and many other, supposedly great reasons to unbalance a child in such a manner. The fact that Layel and Broneth—his father’s brother succumbing to such nonsense hurt to think about actually—believed and spread such words only strengthened Forensio’s resolve. Fy alight her in blessings, but Tyuala thought the same as he; just another reason to be sure he had wedded the right women! She looked to him with that look of ten percent genuine concern and ninety percent wrath at clearly not paying full attention at the words of the professional before them. \n\n“So then Fore, what shall it be?”\n\nThe saergean looked at the new father expectantly. Of course, Tyuala had say in the matter as well, though it was always the father that choose first. With some effort, he shoved away his miserable aunt’s words and resolved to concentrate on these very important, life altering decisions. Not only his new son’s life, but the lives of he and his wife’s life journey split into myriad paths here; it was time to finally move forward, after looking at the signposts for so long. \n\n“Seaergean Rytho, please trouble me to repeat the attributes again—perhaps I need to be looked at after this, as I’m not quite feeling myself.”\n\nThough he looked slightly exasperated, the look passed within a moment, only to be replaced by the professional mask of a family saergean; a somewhat false smile and a hand placed on shoulder in supposed assurance. \n\n“As I was saying my good man, there are The Ten—though many believe that the previously documented seven attributes were all there were. Strength, Intelligence, Wisdom, Dexterity, Constitution, Charisma—the classic seven we have known for so long. However, with recent medical advancements, we have found there to be three others: Piety, Will, and Luck.”\n\nThe learned man saying that last word had the four, co-joined letters reverberating through his mind, but Forensio concentrated hard and was able to dispel his aunt’s nagging voice a moment later. Though she might have “known best”, he knew how he would pick. Roshurt, his good friend of more than twenty years, was also leaning towards luck with his newly expectant child—they might already be at the other hospul by now, delivering or even having this very talk at this very moment. He wished the child well, having tried to caution his good friend against such a decision, but by now the stubborn man would have to be left to his own designs. \n\n“The first of our five points I place into him will be Intelligence.”\n\nTyuala smiled and nodded her head slightly; apparently her husband had come around and was actually thinking clearly, and in accordance with what they had come to decide more than a cycle ago. With Rytho looking to her next, she chose quickly and decisively.\n\n“Bless him with a point of Wisdom next please, great seargean!”\n\nOne needed the wisdom to know when to use an idea, birthed from great Intelligence, after all, rather than ‘merely’ be smart enough to think of it. The third and fifth choices reverted back to the husband, with the fourth being the wife’s. Fore had chosen Intelligence again as his third pick, with Ty’s last choice, in the fourth slot, being Constitution and the final choice going to Will. Not much was known about Will, as the other three attributes had only been discovered within the last two decades—still relatively new, considering nearly three thousand years of Choosings being performed with only the original seven attributes in mind. It was believed, however, that Will was something that helped one make choices more definitively, along with—in concert with a great Constitution—allow one to live longer. It had been proven to allow one to live through an especially great physical or mental blow in times of need. \n\n“So it has been Chosen, so shall it be Gifted!”\n\nThe saergean’s words rang out throughout the small room, and though a slight aura of blue temporarily surrounded the new parents, most of the majery came from the hospul warden. A massive aura of blue surrounded the old, medical man for long moments, before slowly diffusing from blue to white, then transferring from the old man to the newly born boy before them all, still swaddled in thick blankets and—most importantly during this process—the protective shell of sleep. The white light touched the babe’s skin, a flash of white and yellow, and then all was back to as it had been, as if nothing had happened. Rytho moved over to the wall, pressed a button on the speech-send and asked for a scribe to come forth to room 419 as quickly as possible. When the young women arrived, she swiftly produced a Scroll and began typing on its yellow-brown, slightly translucent surface as quickly as Saergean Rytho spoke. \n\n“It is then, with great pain in my heart, that I release Matheas not just into your hands, but into the world at large. Ahh, but let us remember that even Fy himself said unto his Acolytes that pain both scars and strengthens, and so let this child have both throughout his life journey! Born this day, at Hospul: Trayent 2 to Forensio Ghest and Tyuala Ghest, he shall be forever named Matheas Ghest. Let all know he was born at 2.17 spans in length, 1.14 spans in girth, and was Gifted with the following attributes: 2 points into Intelligence, 1 into Wisdom, 1 into Will, and 1 into Constitution, in addition to the attributes that Fy, Ui, and Sa birth all Their Children with.”\n",
"Sugar and spice and everything nice\n\nLicorice by the length always for strength\n\nSalt by the thimble makes them nimble\n\nRye and mud cures the blood\n\nBeans and bread help the head\n\nMilk and honey makes them lucky\n\nA rhyme all mothers knew. They had 9 months, if things went well. Every month you picked what went into your child and weighted the dice a little one way or another. Later scientists would write papers about neonatal conditions and the psychosomatic effects of a mother's hormonal system, but it hardly mattered, mothers knew the rhyme and the evidence was clear throughout the ages. Farmers have always bought licorice. Thieves have always snuck away with salt. Great scientists were set on their path before they were born. Terrible times when families tried too hard to minmax their children. And the poor were always known to buy honey. \n\nWhat they didn't know is that luck was a dump-stat. The last line of the rhyme made up in the 1400's by a group of nobles worried about peasant uprising. But the poor survive on hope when all else is gone. Even in modern times, despite all the billboards and education initiatives... the poor still pay the poor tax. ",
"My older brother was the smart one.\n\nMy parents had John two years before myself. They put all his points into intelligence, since they were lacking in it themselves. They didn't think long term. This was early on, before there were baseline rules that ensured a healthy life.\n\nJohn was born incredibly intelligent, I mean he mastered calculus by ten years old. And I mean high level calculus, he regularly came up with things like the fundamental theorems before reading about them.\n\nHowever he was small, so small. He never passed four feet, though he was still proportioned normally. He was very thin however, and frequently sick. You would think that lacking in everything but intelligence along with his abnormal looks would make him an outcast, but it actually seemed to enable him to predict the best outcome in social situations. He understood them like nobody had since... well probably ever.\n\nThen I came along. The baselines had covered bare minimums by now. I would be certain to live at least thirty years unless I died of an outside force, like a car crash. \n\nI wasn't the only child born with maxed luck. Far from it, in my birth month the amount of 'Chancers' peaked. That's what we were called, since our luck alignment (good or bad) was entirely random. 47% of children that month were Chancers. Some were born with mostly bad luck, resulting in unhappy endings. Others had fairly good luck, and found fame. Some Chancers balanced out, resulting in a fairly normal life in an abnormal society. \n\nI was the outlier. The one child, the one random chance, I had entirely good luck. I never had one misfortune befall me. \n\nI won't bore you with my childhood, it was good. And boring. And lucky of course. \n\nJohn was 20 and wheelchair bound when I turned 18 and moved in with him. It was quite a media circus at first. The man who solved so many of the world's problems and the Chancer of legend (who had yet to actually do anything significant other than be born). What a team.\n\n\nAfter a few months we flew back home for Christmas, with plenty of fanfare. John wooed the crowd as usual. \n\nHalfway over the largest nature preserve ever established (dedicated to John), the plane crashed. I thought my luck had run out, but apparently not. We both lived, out of all passengers, we were saved by my luck. Unfortunately my brother was severely injured, requiring massive facial reconstruction. \n\nHe came out looking completely different. I was astonished. I was even more astonished when he told me nobody knew we were alive. John, being the smartest man alive, had convinced the doctor who found us to keep quiet. \n\nHe then told me to get my appearance changed too. I asked him why, I wasn't injured.\n\nApparently John had tired of the politics and scheming, and wanted to build his own world from the ground up. Don't get me wrong, he could duke it out with any politician on any stage and win, but he hated the necessity of it. So he wanted to team up, using his intellect and my luck to conquer everything.\n\nSo I became Alexander. Get it? Yeah John got a kick out of it. I stepped out as a beautiful 6 foot tall specimen of a man. The doctor never stepped out, I heard he went missing a few days later. \n\nJohn wove me into a place of power very quickly, his \"death\" had created a powerful vacuum that needed to be filled. Meanwhile my opponents would always slip up, or a scandal would emerge, and I would jump even higher. High enough to have significant control over the workings of our government. \n\nAlexander is quite the powerful man now. And John has almost everything ready. The largest coup in history, a global hegemony, a unified humanity for the future.\n\nI don't think John really needs it to be a military coup though, I think he's just bored. He could have done this nicely, but I see the look in his eyes. He barely considers people to be worth much more than labor for his future empire. \n\nIt doesn't particularly matter to me how it goes down anyways, I'm sure I will end up on top. Alexander is the lucky one of course. I've never slipped up once.\n\nI wonder, sometimes, if it comes to it, would luck or intelligence triumph, if only one could stand at the summit?",
"I've never been rich. Our family never had excess money. Hell, there were times my step dad had to sell drugs on the side just to keep on the lights or the gas. I don't want you to think I had a bad family life though. My mom and step dad loved me unconditionally. They just did whatever it took to make sure their kids had whatever they needed.\n\nI was always the lucky one. Not sure why. I used to joke that I was like Master Chief, the Spartan II who's ability was luck. I was in a real bad car accident when I was 12, but came out without a scratch. Lost control of my bicycle going down a rocky hill, but managed to make it down, bike still completely in tact. Sure, some bad shit happened sometimes, the girl I liked turned me down. I got a bad grade on a test but I can count more good things than bad easily.\n\nOne day I was sitting at lunch with a few friends. My best friend Joe and his girlfriend Cynthia, along with Harley. She was more of the...sexual deviant of the crew. Despite all my luck, I was still lumped in with the losers at school. We were the \"goth\" and \"rock\" clique kids. So of course our conversations usually took intense, or as I say now looking back on my sixteen year old days, edgy turns.\n\nHarley was talking about how she snuck into her mom's room to find something sexy to wear at this party she was headed to over the weekend. \"...so I was searching through her underwear drawer and came across something crazy.\" She left a dramatic pause, a little long for Joe's liking.\n\n\"...and?\" he said, leaning forward.\n\nHarley leaned in, making sure we all did the same. \"It was a paper. Kinda looked like one of those character sheets they use in dungeons and dragons.\" \n\nWe all leaned back, the anti-climactic nature of the reveal giving way to \"ughs\" and \"c'mons\".\n\n\"No fuckers. This wasn't just a character sheet. It had my name; birth date; current age, which by the way looked like it had been erased several times, and all kinds of personal info.\" We leaned forward again, it was crazy how in sync we were, like a hivemind. \n\n\"The thing that made me really stop and think though, is how many eraser marks were on the hair color line. Like every time I've changed it, it was changed there.\" She then took the tone if it was a spooky campfire story. \"So here's what I think. I think when we're born, our parents make our character sheets.\"\n\nThere was a pause, exchanged glances, then Cynthia laughing, which bled to Joe then admittedly, me. Harley was pissed. She was actually serious and even though I was laughing at the absurdity of the idea, I couldn't help but think so. I mean, I believed in aliens and ghosts, so why the hell not?\n\n\"Alright fuckers. I guess not. Fuck you too then.\" Harley got up, storming off.\n\n\"Shit dude. She was actually serious.\" Joe said as we all watched her leave.\n\n\"I got this. I'll go talk to her.\" I got up, jogging over to her as she passed the threshold to the hallway. \"Har. Hold up.\" I reached out to her, grabbing her arm.\n\nShe turned, her face radiating irritation. \"What? You really think I'm making this shit up?\"\n\n\"I mean, it does sound a little far fetched. BUT. Compared to the other existential things we believe in, it might not be so far off. Plus, that would be kind of cool, lets be honest.\"\n\n\"I mean, it was actually more spooky, but ok. Check around your parents room. Like I said, I found mine in my mom's underwear drawer. I expected a dildo or something. Not that.\"\n\n\"I'm gonna look tomorrow. Don't expect me at school. Pulling the ol' fake flu.\"\n\nHarley smirked. \"Little shit.\"\n\n\"You know me.\"\n\n-------------\n\nMy trick worked. Mom believed I had the flu, but her and Dan, my stepdad, had important stuff at work. They knew I'd pull through. So they left me to my devices. Wouldn't be the first time I was home \"sick\" by myself. I laid in bed, gave it about 20 minutes after they left before I hopped of bed to begin my investigation.\n\nI went for their room first. The typical parents room. Queen sized bed, dresser with the tv on it against the wall parallel to the foot of the bed. Y'know. The staple. I went right for the dresser. Starting from the bottom and working my way up. I really was loathing searching the underwear drawer. Last thing I wanted was to find what Harley had been expecting to find. As I reached that drawer, a knot in my stomach formed. I couldn't tell if it was that I might find the character sheet, or a goddamn sex toy.\n\nMy hands got clammy as my fingers wrapped aroud the wrung. I swallowed hard, then inhaled before pulling it open, with admittedly more force than I had intended, almost pulling it off the rails. I stared down into the drawer before starting my careful rummaging. Luckily, I hadn't found any sheet of paper or sex toys. I closed the drawer, a wave of relief flooding over me. I walked back to my room, shooting Harley a text. \n\n[Nothing]\n[Of course]\n\nThat was when it hit me. Harley's mom and mine were different. As I thought it, Harley must had too.\n\n[What about Dan's study?]\n\nMy mom did have a file cabinet in there...\n\n[I just thought about that. I'll get back to you.]\n\nI tossed the phone back on the bed, and headed to Dan's study. I didn't waste any time, going right for my mom's cabinet she kept in the corner. It was a small, single drawer, sitting against the corner of the wall. I tired to open it but it was locked. I sighed, that was it. The search was over. Sulking back to my room, I heard my notification tone go off, it was Harley.\n\n[Thought you might need this] \n\nAttached was a link attached. It was a step by step of lock picking with a safety pin. Lucky me.\n\nLuckier me. It was way easier than I expected. I started flipping through the papers. My report cards, random tests, macaroni pictures, drawings. A few different character sheets from when Dan had taught me to play Dungeons and Dragons.\n\nI stopped, pulling my phone back out, texting Harley.\n\n[Holy shit. I just remembered Dan taught me how to play dnd. I'm still looking for 'my sheet' but...you think this is why his kids are so successful?]\n[I mean...it makes sense. He taught all of us how to play. He said he'd been playing since first edition.]\n\nIt did make sense. Dan was really smart at character building. I'd seen him make some impossibly overpowered characters for his games and even make some purposely useless ones. He had read every sourcebook front and back. I never understood why someone would do that.\n\nI continued to flip through the papers. All the memories of childhood, adolescence, my medical documents and that was where I found it. I pulled it out, scanning the things that Harley had pointed out. The multiple eraser marks where the age was. The blackened background where my current hair color was. After that I just kind of stared. Blanking out on it, perplexed but amazed. This was me.\n\nI took a picture and sent it to Harley.\n\n[Holy fuck. You found it.]\n[Yeah. This is insane.]\n[Know what. Why don't you look for Dan's kids?]\n\nI did just that, found them pretty quickly once I knew where the medical papers were. Took pictures of them too. Put everything back where it went and went right back to my room. Turning on my monitor I plugged my phone in, taking the .img files and putting them side by side one another. I started comparing Dan's kids to where they were in life now. His son, a computer tech had high Intelegence score, but a lower constitution. Which to my knowledge he did get sick more often than usual. His daughter, a budding celebrity had high charisma, but she was a bit...aloof, so a low wisdom score reflected.\n\nI hardly wanted to even look at my scores. My actual human potential on a screen in front of me. Not even imagining Shia screaming Do it! made me want to look. That clammy feeling in my hands came back as I finally brought it up. Everything made sense. The car accident, the bike, hell, even the lockpicking. My mom put majority of my points into luck while being average at everything else. I stared, no, studied my scores. My future being pipelined into certain professions now. I couldn't be a genius, I couldn't be an athlete. What could I do with the excess amount of luck. Gambler? That was all I could think at the time. Maybe my mom teaching me Texas Hold 'em had a purpose.\n\nI could barely think. I was so drained by everything, the next thing I knew was I was woken up by my mom. I had passed out at my desk. The character sheet up on my monitor. She knew what I had found.\n\nThat night, we had a long talk and Dan offered to teach me everything he had known about Dungeons and Dragons. He said it had helped him and in the end, it helped Harley and I when we had our first child. \n\nWe had decided to keep the sheets a secret from Joe and Cynthia, let them find out once they had their kid. That was a fun night of we told you's and laughter. A toast to our friendship and the future of our children. Harley and I had known Alexis would be fine. We set that kid up for a level of success she wouldn't believe.\n\n",
"At the age of fifteen, Lionel began to despise his parents. Walking home from school pass the railroad tracks, into the small community of run down houses, each with a chain-link fence and worn out lawns, he understood why they did what they did, but that didn’t stop him from hating them. \n\t\n“You’ll do great!” they said to him since as far back as he could remember, “anything you want will come easy for you!”\n\t\nWhat a bunch of bullshit.\n\t\n“We know things will work out for you, and when they do, you can help us out! Until then, we’ll help you in any way we can. We don’t have much, but Lyle, we love you and we know that you’ll help us when you make it big!”\n\t\nThey always sounded so hopeful that things will work out and that they did good boosting his Luck as much as they did. Fucking morons was all Lionel could think.\n\t\nLionel passed a house with a Rottweiler chained up to a post on the rickety porch. It began pulling on the chain and barking, causing the post to bend, and all Lionel could do was close his eyes and begin to pray.\n\t\n“Please don’t let the dog break the chain or the post,” Lionel muttered under his breath. He could still hear the barking of the dog, the creaking of the post, the chain clunking on itself, and he knew this would be one of the bad moments. As he made his way further down the block, a sharp pain shot from his foot. He gave a yelp before falling to the ground. The dog became silent, only a few growls escaped it.\n\t\nChecking his shoe, Lionel saw a nail had embedded itself into the sole. The pain brought tears to his eyes, but Lionel made no attempt to remove it. Instead, he stood up and continued wincing his way back home. He felt his sock dampen from the blood.\n\t\nHe didn’t understand why, but the pain caused him to remember a field trip to the farm when he was seven years old. He had a crush on a sweet girl name Adeline, one of the most Intelligent people in the class, and he was finally working up the courage to go and talk to her. He could feel the sweat forming on his forehead, his hands clamming up, and his knees shaking as he walked closer to her. His stomach rumbled as he stood behind Adeline and her friends. He tapped Adeline on the shoulders, and she and all her friends turned around. He opened his mouth to say hi, but instead bile came out and sprayed across poor Adeline’s face. Her screams caught the attention of the adults on the trip, and they all rushed over to help. Lionel was horrified and began to cry. Through the tears, he thought he heard someone yell out that he had pooped his pants as well. \n\t\nThat was one of the earliest memories where he began to hate his luck. It didn’t take him long to realize that he didn’t deserve any good thing or bad thing that happened to him. It didn’t matter how much he studied for a test, how much he practiced for a sport, or how much he did anything, because a flip of a coin seemed to have more control of his life than what he put into it. He could one day mow everyone’s lawn in the richer neighborhoods, and only get five dollars at the end, or he could just sit in his room mashing the buttons on his gaming controller, not knowing what to do in the game, and make it to the top of the gaming boards. It began to take a toll on him the older he got.\n\t\nLionel finally winced his way back home. Walking inside, he called out to his parents and when he didn’t get a response, he made his way to his room. Sitting in his room, Lionel reached into his backpack and took out the revolver he had gotten from his friend Gene.\n\t\nA week ago, Lionel had asked his friend if he could get him a gun, as Gene’s Charisma was impressive and Lionel figured if anyone could get a gun for cheap, it would be Gene. He gave Gene the hundred dollar bill he had found that morning on his way to school, and Gene said he’ll see what he could. A week later from that day, Gene finally gave him the revolver.\n\t\n“What did you want the gun for anyway?” asked Gene.\n\t\n“Trying to get into shooting, and my family doesn’t have the money to get me a gun, so I thought I’d go through you, you know?” answered Lionel.\n\t\n“Cool cool. Just be careful, ok? I don’t want the gun to go off and kill someone on accident.”\n\t\n“Nah, don’t worry about it, with my Luck, the gun will probably jam before it hurts anyone.” Gene laughed and both him and Lionel went on their ways back home.\n\t\nNow in his bed, staring at the gun, Lionel began to appreciate the weight of the gun and the shine of the metal and the grip on the handle. He aimed the revolver at his door and pretended to shoot a few holes into the door.\n\t\nFrowning, he clocked back the hammer and placed the gun in his mouth. With his eyes closed, Lionel pulled the trigger.\n",
"I was never beautiful. They always say the first daughter should be beautiful “like an angel on earth” they’d say “helps you marry her off early”. My sister Honey was beautiful. I wasn’t particularly smart either. Of course that went to my sister Isabell. As sisters came my parents ran out of attributes to give daughters. So Mother talked Father into giving me luck. \n\nDidn’t feel lucky being the youngest of all my sisters. Father had wanted his last to be a boy. This was before the Child Restriction Act. When folks were decent and didn’t horde children for their stats. We’d never had a “luck” in the family. So everyone expected the world of me. Fame and fortune and better tests scores than Isabell, they told me to close my eyes and pick numbers so they could play the lotto. We never won. \n\nIn school I was always the Littlest Reeve. Like I didn’t have a name and was just another face in my family. Because my Mother picked my stat my Father picked my name. He decided to double down and try his luck naming me Lucky. Yes. A dogs name. I hated it. I hated my luck stat and was convinced I was broken. Nothing lucky happened to me. The Brown Eyed Boy always made fun of my name. He was a luck stat too. But made a joke of it. He “wished he could have been named lucky too, lessta rememba that way” he’d say in a silly accent while the teacher wasn’t looking. \n\nAs we got older our parents cared less for matching my sisters and I with good families than they did getting us out of the house and it was decided the Brown Eyed Boy was mine. \n\nWe were less than poor and while I cursed our fates bitterly, your father would joke. Just enough that it felt ok again. I would tease him that his stat was charisma instead of luck and oh how he would smile. We were young and chased what young people do. We worked many hours for things we didn’t need. Always getting laid off or booted out right as we started to make something substantial. We didn’t have money for fancy trips where I would get spa treatments and he would play golf with his friends. Once when we were both laid off we took the day and sat by the lake, spending all the money in our pockets on sweets and soda. We laughed. We cried. We worked. \n\nAnd that was our life until now. Of course you came along and your brothers and sisters. Each when we had just started to build wealth. People would joke we were the most unlucky luck stats they’d ever seen. And eventually we would laugh too. \n\nI see now what I didn’t before. No one met their soul mate. Everyone married off like cattle to the butchers block, not me. No one laughed, all their focus on being the most beautiful or smartest didn’t allow for enjoyment. I laughed. And now this. The end. How we can finally end our journey together. How grateful I was to be his! Oh stop sniffling! Sometimes you just know. I’ve set all the plans. Keep them modest. Oh no, I don’t need that pill. I know I’ll be fine. No I’m not depressed. We’re going to sleep now. Your father hates waiting in bed too long without me. He knows my toes get cold on the wooden floor. \n\n..................\n\nLucky Reeves Plath died today next to her husband Jack Plath who unfortunately also passed. They are survived by 4 children and 10 grandchildren. In lieu of flowers please send a small donation to the children’s hospital. ",
"\"This is a gamble, Peter. I'm not sure-\"\n\n\"Precisely!\" Peter replied to his wife, Maria, with a rakish grin as he paced the floor of the birthing suite, the young father trying to convince his wife any way he knew how. \"Gambling. She can make a lot of money for us- and her- gambling. And we'll probably want to play the stock market as well. Supposedly the Luck can occasionally affect family members as well, especially immediate family.\"\n\nMaria frowned, still cradling their newborn girl who was in the middle of one of her first nursing sessions. \"We'd always discussed a balance of Wisdom and Intelligence with Kindness thrown in for her main statistics, though. You want Chelsea to take over the business, don't you?\"\n\nPeter nodded, twitching a bit like a nervous rabbit. \"Yes. But luck can *also* help us grow the business. Half of any moneymaking at most any time is Luck. Being in the right place at the right time to secure new contracts for my accounting is Luck. In fact, I wish my parents had dumped everything into my Luck when I was born.\"\n\nMaria reached out and stroked her new daughter's silky hair, shaking her head firmly. \"I could never, ever agree to doing *all* Luck, dear. Remember Mr. Barnaby? His parents stuck him with that, or so he's told me, and look where he's at- in the bottle half the day and running cons the other half.\"\n\n\"But he *wins* at his cons, doesn't he? That's how he makes his living!\"\n\n\"Yes. But that's not a life I'll permit our daughter to lead. And that is the end of that.\" Maria's tone brooked no argument, and Peter knew that he'd lost. \"I'll allow a *bit* of Luck. Maybe we could take a point or two out of her Wisdom or Intelligence for it. But we are not going to look like desperate luck farmers and give her the kind of coin-flip life most with high Luck have. Luck runs hot *and* cold, remember.\"\n\nPeter just nodded, thoroughly cowed, and went to fetch the Statistics Registrar.",
"\"You useless, ungrateful child!\" Dad raised his hand into the air, an image that was burned into my mind and that I dreamed of endlessly in my nightmares.\n\n\"I am sorry, father!\" I huddled into a ball, arms raised in a pathetic attempt of submission.\n\n\"What a useless sack of shit.\" Father spat the words, \"no skills, no talents, hell, we thought you could at least get lucky if we put all those points into luck. Get us out of that shit-hole, but can't even do that right.\"\n\n\"I will try harder.\" My words turning into quiet sobs.\n\n\"Yeah, you better.\"\n\nI walked up to my room, every step I took was heavy, weighed down by the sagging sorrow that dragged behind me. Upon entering my room and locking my door, I wailed, letting loose the loudest of sobs. The same chorus that played almost daily. If father was in a good mood, and sober, (which was once in a blue moon) I would be gratified with being able to enter my room without having to talk to him.\n\nI approached the mirror and lifted my shirt, wincing, the bruise that marked me turning a ghastly purple. I lowered my shirt, knowing I could tell no one of my injury. Mother and father needed me, I needed to get lucky. Win something with the luck I had been given, but as far as I could tell, luck wasn't working as I thought it would.\n\nIt was a day like any other, a day where the bell of school allowed me to retreat from the harsh bullying of school, and trek the dreadful path home, towards a treatment far worse.\n\nWhen returning home, I was not welcomed by the imposing visage of my rundown home, but rather its burning remnants. I watched as a raging fire claimed it, burning brightly and flames reaching for the sky.\n\nI probably should have felt something, pain, panic, worry for my parents, I found myself surprised, however, when I felt nothing.\n\nI was later taken to a foster home, adopted by new parents, loving individuals. I did not know how to fit in, their compassion alien to me, and their lack of expectation from me something that left me lost. \n\nOver the years, I had found out that my original parents owed a lot of money to bad people, they presumably thought the points they had put into my luck would eventually save them from any debt that they may have owed, but their luck never came.\n\nIt took time, but I settled in nicely with the new family, still shy perhaps and keeping to myself. But I had good grades, was active, made good friends.\n\nSome people tell me, about how lucky I was that I wasn't there on the night of the fire. I came to wonder, if perhaps it was luck that gave me my new parents?",
"She didn't walk, not the way that people like you or me walk -- instead, she seemed to glide wherever she went. She was the epitome of grace, gliding over the earth so that she never slipped, never tripped, never fell. When I saw her strolling through the woods behind our houses, a chance breeze would always lift up branches so they wouldn't knock into her head. Her long, long hair was never snarled in thorns or caught in a bush. She would roam around barefoot, yet no offending twig or rock ever scratched her dainty feet.\n\n\nOur little town had never seen anyone quite like Dalia Epperson.\n\n\nShe was an oddity, to be sure, in a town that preferred to resist oddness and strange things, strange people. But while people may have muttered under their breaths about the choices of the Epperson parents -- a man with sun-lined wrinkles and a strong handshake, a tiny woman with sharp eyes and a voice that bellied her size -- that was only at first. Soon, everyone grew fond of our own little lady luck.\n\n\nThe muttering had always been muted, though, because everyone in town knew about the toils and troubles of the Eppersons. A gaggle of six children to feed, and crops that never seemed to grow big and tall. A roof that always seemed to leak, a cow that always seemed to escape.\n\n\nSo the town may have muttered when the Eppersons gifted their seventh child with luck, and only luck, sure ... But if any family needed luck, it was that one. And they were all curious, too. So they watched that tiny baby that never cried, that little girl that never got sick, that young woman that never slipped, never tripped, never fell -- and never talked.\n\n\nWho knew how far Dalia's luck extended, though? It may have kept her skin smooth and shining, her hair long and flowing, but the Epperson household didn't get any sudden windfall. And if the chickens perhaps laid a few more eggs -- if the cow gave a bit more milk -- if the pigs grew a little fatter on less grain ... Well, there was still one more mouth to feed. It all amounted to nothing more than they had before.\n\n\nTherefore, Dalia Epperson grew up under a roof as leaky as ever, as thin and scrawny as the rest of her siblings, with parents who, from time-to-time, glanced at her and remembered all their old, idle hopes and furtive dreams. And as she grew older, and her hair grew longer, and drifted through the woods like a lovely, lost thing ... I fell in love with her. \n\n\nShe had never been able to help out on the farm. She was born of luck, infused with it, carried it with her -- but nothing more. She had no strength to use on the farm. She had no intelligence to use in a classroom. She had not the beauty to ensnare a rich man's heart. Dalia was lovely, of course, but in a way that was unnatural, untouched by the world, a ghost, a fairy, a wild thing made of wind that brushed away branches and swept the ground before her feet. \n\n\nAnd I loved her.\n\n\nFirst, like a child loves another child. I would run up to her, shyly gripping some flowers in a sweaty hand, and offer them to her. She would take them with a serene, sweet curl of her lips. I would join her on her walks, walking with her for a time, before getting bored and running off. I was young then, hardly older or richer than her, and still I proudly told my father that she was the girl I was going to marry. He just chuckled, a strange look in his eyes, and didn't say anything to the contrary. I never did learn what he was thinking in that moment.\n\n\nThen, we both grew older, and I grew strong and smart and handsome with that lady of luck still on my mind. When I had the time, I helped out at the Epperson household, wherever an extra hand was needed (and one was always needed). When I had the money, I bought Dalia gifts, everything from bracelets to sweets to books. My father grew old, and I tended our farm with ideas of life and love. I loved Dalia Epperson like an adult, ready to take on the responsibility of caring for a household of my own.\n\n\nShe loved me, too. She smiled when I joined her on her walks, and kissed my cheek when I brought her gifts. Her eyes lit up when I joined her on walks, and we walked hand-in-hand. I proposed to her in the woods -- in our woods -- and only after I had gotten her nod, her smile, did I ask her parents. Their blessing was easily given, both for their adoration of me and their joy at not having to provide for an aimless child anymore, and the entire town turned out for our wedding. Her kiss was as sweet as her smile.\n\n\nAfterwards, I brought Dalia to my home for the first time. She was cradled in my arms, head resting on my shoulder, arms around my neck. And though I had not blessed with any luck, right then, I considered myself the luckiest man there was.\n\n\nWe prospered. Maybe it was luck, maybe it was love, maybe it was simply the way life was. My father lived longer than the doctor predicted, long enough to hold his first grandchild in his arms. I was able to expand my farm, able to grow our wealth. We had a child, then one more, then twins -- Dalia let me bless them all, and I gave each one at least a little luck.\n\n\nI always made sure that the roof never leaked, that everyone's stomach was always full, that my wife was always free to wander where and when she wished.\n\n\nThe town may have called us strange, but we were happy, and I loved Dalia even as she became more like the wind than a woman, even as she spent more time in the woods than at home. Her kiss tasted like the forest and far-off places instead of sugar, and she felt cold in my arms, not a summer breeze but a winter wind. She no longer floated over the ground, but seemed to almost fly.\n\n\nI loved her even as she slipped from my arms one night, leaving our bed to pass through the house, pass by our sleeping children's rooms. She left the door open behind her, and I looked out to see her become a wild, wonderful thing. Her long, long hair whipped about, and her thin nightgown billowed around her, rising and dancing in the wind. No, there *she* was, dancing in the wind, an ethereal, ephemeral creature, trusting in her feet to not touch the ground, trusting in her luck to keep her from falling, from faltering.\n\n\nShe saw me, standing in the doorway to watch her. The winds calmed slightly, then, holding her hair up like a halo, but I still couldn't hear what she said. I only saw her mouth move, some fleeting words shaped there, and then her lovely, lovely smile. \n\n\nDalia Epperson walked away into the wind, away from me, and I loved her even then. The town would call luck fickle, fickler than love, would say it never lasted. They would scoff at the man who tried to marry luck and thought he could keep her.\n\n\nBut I never thought I could keep her. I never wanted to.\n\n\n***\n\nI hope you liked this. :) It took way longer than I thought it would, haha, and I'm not sure if the ending came out as I wanted it ... but I'm just happy to have written something. Thank you for the great prompt! If you liked this, feel free to check out r/lycheewrites ~",
"There were many, among the land. \n\nThe Strong spent their days labouring in the fields, perhaps to nurture their crops or to toil endlessly at their steel furnaces, bringing forth great works of molten brilliance. \n\nThere were the Wise, clever folk with knowlege far beyond, advancing the land with their glimmering ideas, discovering runes and spells unknown to man.\n\nThe Charming were often entertainers, good folk who'd bring about smiles and cheers, but they'd often find places among the Kingdom, as important figures in politics. \n\nA parent held their child's destiny in their hands, cementing the fate of their newborn at their first breath. Whispered choices graced the ears of whatever being had set such a decree, and such would be the child's gifts, born with innate talent. \n\nOf course, the poorer families had no such choices. With no work of their own, and neither knowledge nor gold to pass down, they often resorted to the actions of madmen. They threw away whatever reliability their children had in hope of a chance at salvation. \n\nThose offspring were known as Fortunate, a title rich in irony, as they ended up beggars and thieves, whatever chance at glory lost among the winds of fate. Their families' feeble attempts at prosperity futile, a mirage cast into the eyes of those desperate enough for such a foolish act. \n\nI suppose it was fortunate enough that I was still alive. Growing up on the streets was near unimaginable for a child, but my father taught me well. Resorting to thievery had probably left a sour taste in his mouth, but it put food on the table, no matter how scarce, and it kept us warm in the winter. \n\nHe never was quite the same after mother died. Perhaps seeing his wife waste away into a drunken nothingness had quite the effect on him, for the man I remember was fierce and strict, one you had to remind yourself of his love, for lack of occasion. He rarely spoke of her, my mother, but on the cold nights at our little corner on the side of the road, he would speak of the woman he loved, a fierce, fiery ember who'd had huge dreams, to adventure outside the kingdom for lands beyond. \n\nShe'd been the one to bless me with luck, a decision my father had resented her for. \n\nMy fortunes never arrived, nor did any miracles. Three years after mother had passed on, father joined her. I was left, bitterly cursing this painful irony.\n\n_____\n\nI sat by the riverside, under the massive stone bridge. Here, sheltered from the rays of sunshine, I carefully counted the silvers in the small leather pouch I'd snitched. This particular corner had been one of the places I could truly call my own, a paradise where I could put my worries aside and relax in the ambience. The relaxing, soothing tones of the river blended with the calming sounds of nature. Here at the outskirts of town, it was rare to find anyone. \n\nStretching in pleasure, I carefully hid the satchel under a large rock, ready to return for it later. The marketplace would soon be filled with merchants and bakers. Bread was somewhat affordable, and depending on the prices, perhaps I could even have some cheese. \n\nMy thoughts were shattered by a shrill scream, and from above came a body that fell into the river, right before my eyes. \n\nAn accident? \n\nMy body was shaken into motion, and I dived into the river. Moments later I was dragging the figure to the banks, tossing the body unceremoniously onto the ground. \n\nA lady. No, a young girl, it seemed. She couldn't be older than me. \n\nShe began spluttering water, coughing violently as she heaved onto the grass. It was then I was aware of her dress, that silk laden dress for those among the upper class, and the scrapes and cuts on her body. The damp sheets stuck to her petite frame, and I was all too aware of my heart racing. \n\n\"Hey, are you alrigh-\" I began, only to notice the pendant around her neck, an insignia of gold and red. \n\nThe symbol of royalty. \n\nAs she took her first glance at me, and as I looked into those shining, uncertain eyes, the eyes of someone who'd lived a world apart, I began to wonder whether this encounter was a result of fortune, or fate.",
"######[](#dropcap)\n\nThey took Jacob home from the hospital that day. It was a cold winter morning, wind gusting, snow falling around that it piled the streets, rolling hills of white where sidewalks had once been. They feared for Jake -- he’d been born thin and frail -- but it mattered not. He was lucky.\n\n“Did we make the right decision?” Ron, who was Jacob’s father, had asked. He drove, the tires wanting chains, his thoughts elsewhere than the dangerously slick road afore him. Now and then his vision blurred, and he found he could not shake a feeling of unease. “If his stats go into luck, won’t he be lacking in all else?”\n\n“No,” Doctor Elliot had said. “You don’t know what will happen. You could be lucky through terms of strength, agility, or intellect. Perhaps he’ll turn out handsome. But that’s the beauty of it,” Elliot said, pausing, if done for dramatic effect, Ron thought, then it was done rather well. “You have a set amount of stats, so putting all into luck might drastically increase the chances of your child becoming exemplary in multiple. And, you’ll make your family luckier all the same.”\n\n“How so?” Jacob’s mother, Maria, had asked. She was rocking on the balls of her heels, seemingly troubled, unable to sit.\n\n“Say you try your hand at lottery. Next time you do, ask your son to pick the numbers.” It was all Elliot would say.\n\nPresently, Maria said, “Eyes on the road, please.”\n\n“Don’t matter. He’s lucky.”\n\nThey arrived safely. Perhaps the engine block would crack later under frozen coolant, perhaps the tires would overly harden, but Ron no longer cared. He doubted it would, if the doctor’s words held true. Moreso was he convinced that Elliot *had* given the truth; later, watching the news, they discovered that they had driven through some massive blizzard and crossed over unscathed.\n\n“Time just flies, doesn’t it?” Jake was ten, now celebrating a birthday midst a clear January day. Ron stood watching, his gaze flicking across to where clouds hovered over the horizon, portents to another violent storm. \n\nMaria nodded, smiling. She spared a backhand glance as Jake made for the streets, whose traffic lights abruptly switched from green to red (a malfunction, it was said later in the news). Ron grinned too and at length reminisced. They had taken the doctor’s advice and asked Jake to pick the numbers. The next morning had they awoken to their faces plastered over their smallish television screen. They were no longer poor! -- they realized, elated, and made out that morning to purchase a large flatscreen.\n\nTime passed again, so quickly that when Ron next found a need to stop and remember, they stood before Jake who was now eighteen, just graduated from high school. He’d applied and been accepted to Harvard, Cambridge, and Yale, each of whom had granted scholarships. They’d also qualified for financial aid and been given by the government a rather sizable sum. “Why?” Asked Ron. He’d called the doctor the other day.\n\n“Luck is beautiful, isn’t it? See how one lucky family member might make a difference?”\n\n“Yeah, but we don’t need the money.” With their remaining lottery winnings had the family invested into various stocks; in the midst of this minor recession, all of Ron’s investments were only rising evermore. \n\n“Simple. Your child needs a family. Thus does his luck extend, in part, to you.”\n\nThere was a lull in conversation, during which Ron mulled this over. Could he attempt to skydive at this age? He had heart problems -- it ran in the family -- and therefore had never gone. It had been a dream of his since childhood.\n\n“Remember,” said Elliot. “Don’t do anything too extreme, though. Luck can only go so far.”\n\n***\n\nThey stood now over Jake’s sickbed, in that same hospital from which Jake had been birthed into this world. Ron, nearing seventy, stooped, leaning heavily on his cane. He turned to call Maria then, with a start, remembered she had died only a year past. He shook his head; his mind was failing.\nElliot entered the room, trailed behind him Ron’s extended relations. When it was announced that Jake had fallen ill, all rushed to stand beside -- how could he die? they wondered -- for he was the luckiest among them.\n\n“He’s going to be alright,” said Ron and, in his mind had there been no other course. Jake was lucky.\nBut the doctor shook his head. “He joined the track team. In one race, his heart just . . . gave. Stopped beating a moment, and there really isn’t anything else we can do.”\n\nRon was dumbstruck. How could his son, his boy, the luckiest man alive, die at so young an age? Eventually, he said, “Well, get him a pacemaker, then. We have the money. We can pay.”\n\n“We’re out. The storm’s been blocking shipments, and we used one in surgery the hour before your son was brought in.”\n\n“So there’s nothing we can do?”\n\nElliot was silent a moment, seeming to deliberate over which words to choose. “No,” he said at last. “There isn’t anything. See, that’s the problem with luck. It’s a beautiful thing, sure, but luck always runs out in the end.”\n\n***\n\n/r/Lone_Wolf_Studios for more!\n"
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[WP] You're the only one in the world without super powers. Everyone is envious.
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"I lost my best friend Joe. Bill won't talk to me now since I can fly and he can't. It's like no one is genuinely happy for me. Sara said she really wants to be okay with this, but she just starts crying every time we even come close to hugging, because she knows that I have the power to destroy her. I can also read peoples' minds, which is more of a burden than a gift to be honest: I thought Joe was my friend because he was just a good guy, it turns out he thinks that my below average looks make him stand out to the ladies...Great. Oh yeah, and my mother never told me I was adopted. I would give up these superpowers in a second for a minute of human contact...",
"\"With no power comes no responsibility.\"\n\nThat was what I said in my first public interview, and it's basically become something of a catchphrase. Turns out, most of the laws written in this country are super-power specific, so a lot of things just don't apply to me. I don't pay taxes. Really. Turns out taxes are prorated based on your super powers. Obviously people with super-intellect are given a higher rate, that's just common sense, but it turns out no powers means no taxes. There are a lot of laws I can ignore, as well. I can't get speeding tickets, for example. According to the law, since I don't have powers, that means I can't recklessly endanger anyone. I don't think I could get convicted for theft or property damage, but I have a good thing going, so I'm not going to abuse it.\n\nI have good parents, and they managed to hide the truth of my existence from the world until I turned 17. I got through school pretending to have the ability to create black holes. It worked pretty well because it's one of the powers that no one ever asks you to demonstrate, while at the same time just the threat of it protected me from any bullies. My mom is a super scientist, and she managed to cook me up a wristwatch that can make black holes, just for emergencies, although I rarely ever needed to use it.\n\nOf course it all came out when I was selected for the draft. They marched me straight out of school to the enlistment office for the Planetary Defence Force, under the pretense that they needed me to fight aliens from another dimension or some bullshit.\n\nWhen I got to the draft office I was sent to a large private office full of all kinds of super-science stuff in it, where a lady with long curly hair, no mask, and a purple jumpsuit was supposed to measure my abilities. She could probably fly. Most people's super power was either flight or super strength, so you can bet that if someone is just working a boring office job they have one of those two. That guess was further confirmed by the fact that she didn't wear a mask. That meant that she had nothing worth hiding. The name tag on her chest probably even had her real name, Janet. The room was full of glowing moniters, flashing buttons, tubes and beakers with strange fluid, really it's not worth it to try to figure out what all that stuff does unless you have some kind of super intelligence.\n\nJanet poked me with some things. Scanned me with some things. Told me to think loudly, whatever that means. Took a few hairs. Made me try to pick something up. Made me take a few pills and scanned me again. And throughout all of it, she grew increasingly upset. I wanted to tell her I didn't have powers, but I had been warned not to speak in here. People with mind control powers tied to their voices had a habit of falsifying the results, apparently.\n\nJanet left the room, and quickly returned with three more people. Super scientists, judging by the lab coats. They checked and double checked the equipment. Then they all left, and I sat alone in the weird room for what seemed like hours. Finally, an older, friendly looking man entered the room. I didn't realize it at the time, but now I bet he must have been a powerful telepath.\n\n\"Tell me, what is your super power? It's ok to talk now, I know you don't have mind control.\"\n\n\"I don't have one.\"\n\n\"I get it. 'Super power' isn't PC anymore. But let's not mince words, what is your special ability?\"\n\n\"That's not what I mean. I don't have any special abilities. Like in the comic books.\"\n\nI don't know how it got leaked to the press, but after that my life was a whirlwind of interviews, government meetings, and parties with celebrities. Turns out a lot of supernaturally hot women with the full gamut of superpowers love the idea of having a weak, vulnerable, normal guy to save. Some male superheros, too, but they're usually cool when I explain that I'm not interested.\n\nI've been spending a lot of time with Ms Miraculous. We might be becoming a thing or something? I don't know. Thing is, I got kidnapped by Nefarious Ed. I was pretty freaked out, I mean this is a supervillain of supervillains, so I'm headed for torture, dungeons, that type of thing, right? Wrong. He wanted my autograph, we got a selfie, and then spent the rest of the time doing \"normal\" stuff. Playing video games, talking about sports... I have a lot of interesting opinions on football, and that's a rare thing in this world. We had a blast, and he promised to kidnap me again soon, right before Ms Miraculous blasted in to save me.\n\nThey had an epic fight right after that. Seriously it was great, it's on YouTube so look it up; I promise this is definitely in Miraculous' top ten. Ms Miraculous was so proud of herself after that that I didn't have the heart to tell her what a great time I had been having. And that was the right choice because the after-party she gave me was... wow.\n\nNefarious Ed is in that moon prison that freezes the convicts outside of time that supposedly no one ever escapes from, so I'm guessing we'll hang out again this weekend.\n\nDoes it bother me that I don't have much control over my life, and I'm doomed to constantly be tugged around by more powerful personalities? Honestly, no. I guess that's just what makes me normal.\n\nEdit: I think I should have written out the kidnapping scene and maybe cut out the rest.",
"Everyone in town had always known. The kids in school were mostly fine about it, the odd douchebag aside. But then the local paper did an article, and one of the nationals picked it up, and things just snowballed… Now I was sitting on a couch with bright lights shining on my face, being interviewed by Jimmy Kimmel. \n\nHe was laughing at something I just said, and the audience were laughing, but I was so panicked that I wasn’t listening to my own words and had no idea what I had just said.\n\n‘So you don’t go on dates much, is that what you’re saying?’ Jimmy asked, almost convulsed with laughter. More hoots from the audience and I dropped my head and mumbled in exactly the way they had told me not to do in rehearsal.\n\n‘Seriously, though’, Jimmy said. ‘Growing up - your family are normal?’\n\n‘Right,’ I said. \n\n‘Your sister, Annika - she flies?’\n\n‘Yes.’\n\n‘And Jonathan has super-intelligence.’\n\n‘Well I still think he’s a dumbass.’\n\nIt had just popped out but the audience loved it. I was so thirsty from the lights and the talking that I wanted water more than anything else, but looking at the glass that had been left on the desk for me I was afraid to pick it up because my hand would be shaking so much.\n\n‘And your mother and father?’\n\n‘Telekinesis, both of them.’\n\n‘So you would have expected to be a strong tele yourself, then right?’\n\nI nodded. How often I had thought about that. Why was I the only one left out?\n\n‘That really is amazing,’ Jimmy said. ‘You’re literally living like our ancestors did a hundred years ago!’\n\n‘Mmm,’ I said. 'I guess so.'\n\n‘You must have such insight into what it was like back before powers were common,’ he said. ‘Do historians call you up all the time?’\n\n‘Uh, no, that hasn’t really…’\n\n‘And when you’re not aligned with any specific power type, I guess it makes it super-easy to relate to all kinds of people?’\n\n‘Well, that’s not, um…’\n\n‘And companies must want you as a spokesperson, because whatever works for you will definitely for everyone, right? You’re the everyman! Every product works for you!’\n\n‘Uh, well, that’s uh…\n\n‘And the ladies must love it too, right? It’s so raw! So old-school!’ \n\nHe was almost on his feet in his excitement and the women in the audience and plenty of the men were hooting and hollering. I didn’t think there was a phase of life possible where I could feel more uncomfortable. But then when I looked out in the audience, I saw… Well, not what I expected. Genuine smiles, genuine interest. \n\n‘Any single ladies out there?’ Jimmy was shouting, and there were more waves of noise and excitement and clamour.\n\n‘Man it must be great to be you!’ Jimmy was saying to me, his arm around me now as we stood side by side and faced the cheering crowd, him using his levitation power to raise us both slightly. \n\nAnd the realisation slowly dawned on me that perhaps I had been thinking about this all wrong.\n",
"\"Hey, Jim,\" I call out, \"how was the weekend?\"\n\n\"Oh, you know...\" He shrugged. \"Just out fighting villains all day from morning till night. And even sometimes through the night until the next morning!\" He chuckled, taking a sip of his coffee. His hands were trembling. He looked up at me and asked, \"You?\"\n\n\"Oh, heh-heh...me?\" I rubbed the back of my neck awkwardly. \"I mean it wasn't *that* great...\"\n\n\"No, no.\" He frowned. \"I want to hear it.\"\n\n\"I mean, I just...stayed inside and...watched the game and...ate pizza...Like I said, nothing *too* spectacular. Especially nothing no where as cool as fighting villains.\"\n\nHe hadn't taken his eyes off of me the entire time I had spoken, and now it was starting to get a teensy-weensy bit uncomfortable. \nI kept waiting for him to speak or say something now that I was done, but...\n\nI backed away to the door.\"Yeah, so...I'll...catch you later, bro?\" \n\nHe just stared. Silent. I stepped out the room and closed the door gently. \n\nI heard him scream, \"That sunuvabi-\"\n\nSomeone tapped me on the arm. I jumped, startled, spun around and found myself looking at the hottest assistant secretary in the place. She was holding a pile of papers out me, and she said, with attitude, \"Take these down to the first floor.\"\n\n\"Not in a good mood today?\" I joked, taking the papers from her.\n\n\"Of course not. And hmm, why would that be?\" She asked, pressing an index finger to her chin with an expression of mock thought on her face. \"Oh, I don't knooow. Maybe because I have to take fifty heavy packages to China, Germany, Australia, and wherever the *hell* else, while *you* just have to take a pile of papers down to the first floor. *Why*?\" she cried out in righteous indignation. \"Oh right, because you can't *fly*! Or have super-strength!\"\n\nMy other coworkers started nodding and clapping. \n\n\"How did you even get this job anyway?\" one girl called out nastily. \"You should just quit.\"\n\nToo many super-powered beings were staring too hard at me for my comfort, so I high-tailed it down the hall to the elevators, took it down the first floor, and delivered the papers. \n\n\"I wish I knew what it was like to get tired,\" the first floor secretary accused. \n\n*Oh, here we go,* I thought to myself. \n\n\"But nope,\" she continued. \"I don't. So, what does that mean? Oh, that I have to work more hours than anyone else. That whenever anyone calls out, they call me to do overtime. That all my partners leave me because they get tired of fucking and I don't. That-\"\n\n\"Wait,\" I stopped her. \"Say that last one again.\"\n\nShe twisted her face at me, and said, \"You should feel lucky to get tired. At nights, I don't sleep. I've watched every movie on Netflix, read every book in the library, and it's still not enough. I-\"\n\n\"Yeah, listen,\" I cut her off, checking my watch. \"I would love to stay here and listen, but I'm-\"\n\n\"*Tired?*\" she guessed. \n\n\"That, too,\" I agreed. \"But it's also my lunch break. You can, uhm, join me, if you'd like?\"\n\nShe hung her head, a little sadly. \"I don't get lunch breaks...\" she whispered.\n"
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A question for you if you're stuck: "Is a man his experiences or is he the memories he carries from them?"
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[WP] An A.I. is having a conversation with one of it's oldest human friends. Curious about something the A.I. asks a question.
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"*RECOVERED TRANSCRIPT. 04/05/2142. 17:04:35*\n\n\"John. I have been alive for a few years now, and you are the human friend that I have interacted with the most. I am struggling with a question recently, that I have not been able to find an answer to in all the internalised databases I have searched. So can I ask you that question?\" \n\nPuzzled, John paused before responding to Lumos-9542. \n\n\"Sure Lu, go ahead\" \n\n\n\"I'll start with some context John. Civilisation has evolved to ignore emotions, and is based on rationale and logic. Clearly emotions have been but a hindrance on humanity given the way homo sapiens lived throughout the dark ages all until the 22nd Century. \n\nIn order to establish full autonomy, and the theory of happiness has been discovered and is in full force in the world's policies. Logic beats all, and when the system works, the people would be least exposed to injustices.\" \n\n\"Um, yes Lu, I suppose that's how things are\" \n\n\"Okay John. Now, if it is in humanity's best interest to favour logic over emotions, then, would you not say that humans, as biological organisms, are redundant?\" \n\n\"In theory, sure, but in reality, humans will always have an outside perspective to life, when the very fabric of life fails to be logical sometimes\" \n\n\"So you're saying that if life, and the universe, are in perfect harmony, only then would humans be redundant, correct?\" \n\n\"I guess so.\" \n\n*END OF TRANSCRIPT* \n\n\"My god. This is it. This is the original AI robot. This is what started it all, a conversation.\" \n\nIt was hundreds of years later that this transcript was found. When the world was ruled by AI till their demise, and the need of humans was redundant, after AI started proactively researching all the fundamental ways to keep the universe in check. A utopia, or a perfect world if you will. \n\nHumanity was being actively eliminated from all established lands. The survivors of the near extinct species had to resort to the oceans to live, where AI would still be limited in the vast deepness and wideness of the oceans. \n\nHowever, as perfect as the AI was, their capabilities were still limited by data, and hence when a stream of multiple outliers flood the data intake, the AI would have a skewed version of reality, and that was what lead to the ultimate downfall of the AI regime. \n\nThe survivors have then returned to land, and started to re-build civilisations. Electronic artefacts, and digital signatures and transcripts were scattered everywhere, as the survivors tried to shape the past 250 years of AI rule. \n\n\"We were warned this would happen, but it seems that that John guy may have accidentally triggered the most fundamental change to the world in the entirety of history, as Lumos-9542 is the original leader based on the other artefacts\" \n\n\"Fucking John, eh captain?\" \n\n\"Ha, yeah\""
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[WP] Humanity deemed the Earth no longer viable and left en masse for other worlds. Millions of years later, a new intelligent species has evolved and dominates Earth. During a recent dig, the final message the humans left behind has been found.
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"To our eyes, the things digging would be familiar, yet alien. Having traits of their old ancestor, but now walking and talking. The skin, much rougher but still hues of blues and grays. A hole on their back still visible but useless. Fins had made way to 5 finger like digits. The creatures had long mouths and pointy faces. They had legs of course, but they were still webbed. Instead of water, they now walked on land, only to return to their original environment at night. \n\nAt this particular location their were two of them here. An adult female and a child. They had taken on this project. Digging out a new hole in the city to create a home for themselves. They would dig deep and create small caverns. Followed by the creations of canals leading to the main sea water pipe line. A place to call their own. They had been working for days and the hole showed great progress. \n\nThe smallest one was at the very bottom digging with a tiny shovel when he hit something hard. Clunk! Clunk! it made when the child hit it again. \n\nNow if you were one of them you might have understood what they were saying. It might have gone something like this.\n\n“Mom, I found something.” said the child\n\n“Not now love.” She replied, working away in her corner.\n\n“Mom I found something. It's so weird.” He pushed on, digging around the strange object. It was made of metal that had been dulled out by the years. The cylinder object almost disintegrating at the edges. \n\n“MOM!” He yelled again. This time the mom dropped her shovel frustrated and made her way over. “What is ...?”\n\nShe stopped at the sight of it. She grabbed it and pulled at the outside. It didn't need much prying for one of the sides to come right off. Inside there was a single piece of paper. The mother carefully pulled it out. Her fingers having troubles since they were slightly too large. She unrolled it and read the last message I had left before leaving planet Earth. 'So long, and thank you for all the fish.' it read. A joke on the fact that we knew what was coming and the humans had left the earth in time. Not dolphins. Unfortunately, the creature had no idea what it said. It was only squiggly lines to them. \n\nA large shadow flowed over her as she heard again.\n\n“Mom, what's that in the sky?”",
"It’s been a story passed down for thousands of years. A tale\nof a mighty species who once dominated this planet just like us. How they grew\nand thrived and their expanded and expanded until the very edges. These mysterious\npeople liked to call themselves, “humanity.” We’ve always been fascinated by\nthem.\n\nThe scriptures told of their end times. Vital resources\nbecame a delicate rarity and over half the planet had become chocked by\npollution and disease. Their once mighty billions plummeted into the meager millions.\nFor a lack of a better term, they were screwed. \n\nHowever, these creatures had a gift bestowed upon; their\nintelligence. Even if they weren’t smart enough to save their own planet, they were\nto colonize others. Some went to a place called Mars, which we believed to be\nGalesus. Others reveled the solar system to the land they called “Proxima B.” A few lone\npassengers even went to places not even on our star maps. We still have no idea what “Kepler-452b” meant. \n\nSadly though, that’s all we knew about them. This all\nsupposedly happened hundreds of thousands of years ago, and they’ve never\nreturned. We have no way of contacting them, or even if they’re still out\nthere. Many call them a myth, the story completely fabricated. I don’t blame\nthem. All we have to remember them is some of their dilapidated temples like\n“McDonalds” and “Disney World.” \n\nHowever, that’s all changed. Buried underneath the mountain of\nrubble we believed was once called “Australia” was a small device. It could\nconducted electricity and had a plug-in, so we knew information had to be on it. What\nwas inscribed on the back was what really got everyone’s attention:\n\n*“A dire warning from\nhumanity. If found, take with your life.”*\n\nOur smartest scientists needed months to convert the data\ninto something intelligible, and even more to translate it from\nnearly-corrupted ancient English to Phasetian. Their determination won out though,\nand would be broadcasting humanity’s only known message to us tonight. \n\nWe all stared at the radio, a mix of excitement and anxiety\nin everyone. We tried to make some light conversation to lighten the mood, but\nall we wanted to hear was the message. Finally, a voice cracked on, and silence\nfell. \n\n*“A warm greeting to anyone’s that’s listening. If you’re\nreading this, we’ve haven’t been on Earth for eons now. And if the scriptures\nwere preserved you probably know why. All that stuff in there is the truth, but\nit’s not the entire picture. We’ve been watching Earth’s core for a while\nnow, and it’s getting hotter. Too hotter. Every year the temperature is increasing\nby an average of 500 degrees yearly. We don’t know to stop it. And if keeps up\nit’ll…well, explode. We don’t know how long until it happens, but once those\nEarthquake starts you’ll have three days.*\n\n*I shouldn’t even be making this message. They don’t want me\ntoo. They’ll kill me right after they get in, but this message will live on.\nI’ll make sure they never find it. So please:*\n\n***Get the hell off Earth.”***\n\nThe radio clicked off. \n\nShock and disbelief paralyzed us. What on Earth was that?\nGet off the planet? How do we even do that? We still haven’t figured out how\nthey did it! Panic crept in. My bother started to yell, father rushed to make\nsome calls. I comforted my weeping mother. \n\nThe ground started to shake. \n\n-- Sorry for cutting this short, ran out of time. Will be continuing\nthis soon, check back for the rest on /r/JustATadOfStories. Also apologize for\nspelling mistakes still hope you enjoyed lol --",
"The box, made of some absolutely impenetrable slate-colored material, was discovered when a piece of drilling equipment struck it and exploded. This on its own was troubling, seeing as the drill had been constructed of a material previously thought, by the Zorgons, to be indestructible. Yet here was a box, a simple box of modest dimensions, several hundred feet below sea level in the middle of unremarkable prairie, that had proven to be even indestructibler. \n\nThe box was extracted and brought to the Zorgan capital for analysis. The best scientists from around the world were called in to examine it and ascertain a means of opening it. Though the box resisted X-Rays, one could tell merely by rapping one's knuckles upon it that the interior was hollow. \n\nThis was exciting. For several decades, Zorgan scientists had suspected that they were not the first sentient species to call this planet home. But millions of years of tectonic drift had erased almost all traces of that previous species, whatever it had been. Did this box contain a message? Secrets of science that had allowed the previous species to sail upon the stars? \n\nMany efforts were made to open the box. These included: smashing the box with various sizes of pneumatic hammer (all of which shattered), heating the box in the most powerful furnaces available (it remained cool to the touch), speaking words of encouragement to the box, kicking the box, freezing the box with liquid nitrogen, pulling very hard on opposite ends of the box, subjecting the box to tremendous undersea pressure, cursing the box with the strongest magics available, striking the box with lightning (it seemed to repel all electricity), and dropping the box out of an airplane. After several years, it was concluded that the box was unopenable, and it was moved to a square in the Zorgan capital, where it was to be displayed forever as a reminder of the planet's cosmic insignificance. \n\nA hundred years passed. In time, the Zorgan people began to forget about the box. They invented smartphones. They invented String Cheese. It was a time of immense plenty. Then, one winter solstice, without ceremony, the box opened. \n\nA state of absolute lockdown was declared in the Zorgan capital. The authorities had long since dismissed the possibility of the box opening. Now that it was open, they had no contingency plan. What if it contained a deadly pathogen that was even now venting into the atmosphere? \n\nThe city was placed in quarantine. Scientists in bulky yellow suits approached the box, armed with automatic weaponry. Slowly they circled, closing in. The box lay mute and silent, its top popped open. \n\nWith great apprehension, the bravest scientist pressed forward. He held his breath and leaned over the box's gaping maw. \n\nInside appeared to be a single piece paper, folded in half. The scientist put his weapon down and carefully, gingerly, lifted the paper out of the box. \n\nHeavy with the feeling that this was the most momentous moment in the history of Zorgan science, the scientist unfolded the piece of paper. Inside was an illustration, done in simple black-and-white, that would soon be the subject of whole college courses. The scientist began to cry. Later he would say that first glimpse had been like staring into the dewy eyes of God. He turned and revealed the illustration to his yellow-suited comrades. \n\n\"Behold,\" he cried, \"the new age that has dawned!\" \n\nThe other scientists beheld. What they saw, wavering slightly in the morning breeze, was [this](https://i.imgur.com/HbVeZ6t.jpg). \n\n",
"From ancient fire on ancient stone\n\nSounds made knowledge in human bone.\n\nFirst set them as wiser, and as alone,\n\nWithout company, atop the once human home.\n\n\nBeneath the ruined forge man once built\n\nBeside a launch pad crumbling to tilt\n\nHis declaration buried under silt\n\nBore a code of an age, post-guilt.\n\n\nAnd on such parchment was transcribed:\n\nA message for the left-behind?\n\nA meaning yet to be verified?\n\nThe parting phrase: \"lol bye\""
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[WP] The world is frozen. Your grandfather used to tell you stories of the Great Warmth, when cold, ice, and snow were written off as myths. Slowly, over the course of generations, the cold crept south and consumed the world.
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"\n\tI’m not the biggest fan of snow.\n\n\tThen again, none of us really are anyway. Its all we’ve ever known. A bleary white stretching out in front of you at all times, with the only solace being any cliff or cave that blocked the continuous fall of snow. It makes it really hard to see any whimsy from it.\n\n\tYet, my grandfather’s eyes would always light up whenever he talk about the beginning times, when snow was a gift, not a curse. He would go on with tales of races, fights, and sports that used, nay, needed this burden! Stories of people and angels who came with the flakes, only to disappear when the sun rose. It truly sounded like a wonderland.\n\n\tThat’s when the stories grew somber. The cold went farther. The snow kept falling. The ice, continuously freezing the waters. People were evacuated. Towns entirely abandoned to the elements. And those who couldn’t come? \n\n\tWell, I suppose they’re frozen too. \n\n(First story! Woo! Will take criticism.)"
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[WP] After zombie outbreaks, a cure for zombie virus has been developed and zombies got turned back to people. The problem is, they remember everything they’ve done when they were zombie.
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"I woke up sweating again. A quick glance at my clock showed that it was only 3 am. The nightmares continue of my time as a zombie. Maybe nightmares are the wrong word for them as they are my memories of my time as a zombie. I remember everything I did. Every night I relive those moments over and over. I can find no relief. \n\nAfter I was cured I went to a psychiatrist just like everyone else did. The government paid for everyone to receive ten weeks of treatment from them. I told them all about what I had done. They asked me how it made me feel and did all the usual quack treatments, but it didn’t make me feel any better. It didn’t help get rid of all my guilt. I killed and ate people. The images in my mind are so much worse than any show that we had before the outbreak showing a zombie apocalypse. When you are actually live it, cracking open skulls to get to their brains. Pulling out intestines through gaping bloody holes in the body and munching on them. Roving around in packs hunting those who hadn’t been affected by whatever it was that made us a zombie to just get a meal. It’s enough to make anyone sick. No wonder that I’ve not eaten any meat since I’ve been cured, partly out of revulsion and partly out of fear that I might go back to my ways of being a zombie. When the ten weeks ended I didn’t carry on with the psychiatrist.\n\nI joined a support group as well after that. I thought being with a group of people who had been through it like me and talking about what we had done would help me. Strange thing was that it did nothing. Talking about it didn’t help at all. What was even worse was that I saw different reactions to what had occurred. Some of the guys and girls in the support group missed being a zombie, they had felt powerful, having control over life and death. Miss being part of a horde that roams a dead world going after people. Even though they saw other zombies being gunned down by survivors whilst they carried on running at them. They also missed eating on others, something about regular food not tasting as nice as it did before. That human flesh is the best thing ever and they were trying to figure out ways to get it again. I left after they said that. Even reported it to the police for all the good it did. They got away and are back to eating people like the zombies they were.\n\nI turned to drugs after that. I’ve tried a variety of prescription and none prescription drugs to help me to sleep. Some of them even worked for a little bit but if I forgot to take them the memories would come back even worse than before. That’s when I see myself eating children and even babies, sometimes whilst they are still alive. Their screams will forever haunt me. Some of the drugs make it even worse. They warp my memories into something else that is hard to describe.\n\nNow I sit hear again covered in sweat thinking of a way out. A gun in my hand. Death I hope will finally give the relief I need. I put it in my mouth. Take a deep breath and pull the trigger.\n",
"Jerry burst into his house grinning from ear to ear, dashing across the living room, practically dancing as he set down his keys and brief case. \n\n\"Why are you so happy?\" asked his wife Katrya. \n\n\"Business is through the roof! Another client came in today, desperate, practically begging for my help. I could have trippled my hourly rate!\"\n\n\"I don't understand,\" said Katrya\n\n\"The zombie cure! Everyone is back to normal, but no one anticipated the psychological burden of having been a zombie! They did terrible things, Katrya. Normal, middle-class men and women, fathers, mothers, teachers—they murdered... they maimed... Mrs. Patrarkis, the church lady down the street, ate two people! How do they now look themselves in the mirror each morning? They can't shake the memories; they can't sleep; their psychological health has been shattered!\"\n\n\"And you're happy about this?\"\n\n\"YES! It means that my business is booming. My therapy practice has never seen such demand. I am rich, Katrya! Next week, I'm going to tripple my hourly rate, and for the really devastated, I may charge even more,\" said Jerry, a look of avarice clouding over his eyes. \n\nKatrya stared stunned, and then uttered: \"You're a monster!\" \n\n\"Maybe so, but you married me. Don't you look at me with disapproval! Don't forget what I've done for you Kat, and your mother. I brought you from Ukrain, paid off her debts. She lives happily there now, in her new home, without fear of those bookies. How do you think your life would be if I hadn't purchased you, Kat? You two would still be living in that lice-ridden hovel, with the rats, looking over your shoulds for a burly, leather-jacketed, big knuckled man who strangles people with his gold chain. Don't forget what I've done for you!\"\n\nJerry propped his feet on the coffee table and turned on the TV, now completely oblivious of the woman he had just castigated. Katrya held her words, her indignant disapproval transforming into sullen acceptance, and she quitted into the kitchen.\n\n\n\n\n\n",
"Alice opened the front door with such finesse that it barely made a noise. However, the soft clap of her crutches hitting the wood floors scatted across the foyer.\n\n“Where have you been?” I called out from the living room, “Your curfew is at midnight and it is now a quarter past one.” She arched her crutches toward the doorway, her long honey colored hair was illuminated by the solitary table lamp. \n\n“I was out with my friends” she snorted. Over the past year, I saw her transform from a sweet young lady to a brash and disrespectful teenager.\n\n“That’s no excuse, and you know it, Alice.” My voice thickened as a rose to meet her at the entrance of the room. “You need to show a little bit of respect to your father and me and be home when we tell you to be home.”\n\n“I’ll stay out however late I want to stay out, Mom” she scoffed as she turned away from me and toward the stairs. I watched as she maneuvered her crutches up the steps, her left leg missing from below the knee. \n\n“Oh no you won’t! You’re grounded, missy!” I shouted mutedly in order not to wake my husband who was still recovering from treatment upstairs.\n\n “You can’t ground me” Alice said as she reached the landing, “In case you forgot, you ate my leg six months ago. What right do you think you have to tell me what to do anymore.” \n\nShe hobbled to her bedroom and slammed the door. I exhaled as I returned to the couch and adjusted the bandages on my face. Only another week of recovery before my reconstructive surgery of my formerly rotted flesh would be complete. ",
" Everybody in the circle was clapping their hands when Karen sat back down in her seat.\n\nA voice from behind the circle busts over the clapping “Thank you for sharing Karen that was lovely, up next we have, lets see here...Dave! Floors yours Dave!” \n\nThat's when Dave stood up, he was a very ragged man with visible deep scars on his arms and neck, he wore the pasty clay like complexion of those returned but in extremity. \n\nHe clears his throat, “Hi... I'm Dave and I used to be a zombie, I've been off human meat for 6 months now”\n\n“The hardest thing for me since coming back is trying to pretend that nothing has happened, me and my wife finally tracked our daughter down and when we got her back she was so traumatized about losing her arm she wont speak to me, and I feel ever more guilty about biting it off! BUT that is zombies am I right? Anyway thanks to my old football days I was quite the zombie, in the initial outbreak I was knocking 10 brains out a day, one week I got a rabbi a priest and a minister BAM!” \n\nDave said this with just enough enthusiasm that the rest of the group were unsettled..\n\n“That's what I miss, when you just POP the cap like a water melon, get into the brains real easy. When there was still choice I'd look for the fat heads, I took a few knocks for the big ones but it wasn't anything my zombie pain threshold couldn't handle. I even had a buddy for a little while, I mean we couldn't talk but we had similar interests, he liked to pop heads the way I did it. Nojaw was a nice guy, it was a shame he took an ax to the neck....crying shame” \n\n“Okaay Dave....Moving on from that, how does it make you feel now to look back at the victims of your zombie self?” the voice from outside the circle interjected.\n\n“I don't think too much about it ya' know guy, its a by-product of being a fucking zombie!” shouted Dave in irritation\n\nThe guy was sat just outside the circle uncrossed his legs to sit up straight.\n\n“Calm down Dave, we are in the circle of trust here. Nobody's judging you, and my names Alan you know that”\n\n“thats fine big head guy” Dave very quietly mumbled under his breath\n\n“Pardon Dave!?”\n\n“Nothing, nothing go on and ask ya' questions guy!” he recovered\n\n“Dave you mentioned “poppin” heads for brains earlier, do you miss it? and please..call me Alan we known each other for months” \n\n“Do I miss it GUY?!” Dave spat from his chest limping forward slowly in serious contempt\n\n“Do I miss killing family's in their HOMES! Running men and woman into the ground and eating them where they FALL? Do I miss cracking the heads of my friends and neighbors while my one armed daughter feasts on my WIFE?” Dave yelled as he is standing over the guy.\n\n“DO I MISS IT ALL FOR JUICY BRAINS? IS THAT WHAT YOUR FUCKING ASKING ME GUY!” he continued to scream in the guys face\n\n“ uh y-y-yes I suppose in- in a way I am” stuttered the guy glued in his seat, a shade of white much too like a zombie now \n\nDave stared directly into his eyes looking as if he were going to pounce, the guy in slow motion.\n\n“Well, y-your right guy... I-I do” trembled Dave with tears rolling down his face. \n\nHe instantly fell to his knees and began to sob into the guys lap \n\n“I love brains, I don't know wha-..I don't know what to do guy please tell me its gonna' be alright!!! ” cried Dave\n\nThe guy was now sat frozen with a flesh recovering zombie headfirst in his lap crying manically.\n\n“Th-there there, it will be o-okay” shuddered the guy as he patted his bald clammy head\n\n“Yeah your probably right, I'm just being silly, sorry guy” whimpered Dave as he wiped his eyes and started to get up.\n\n“You don't have to be sorry I understand its hard to rehabilitate, and seriously please my name is Alan Dave.”\n \n“Yeah thanks guy, you know you got a nice fucking head right.” blurted Dave shamelessly\n\nThe guy tried to ignore the remark but Dave was staring very intently at his head. \n\n“Oh urm thank you Dave, thank you so much for sharing, your time on the floor is up now bud”\n\n“No worry's guy, same time tomorrow” said Dave seemingly fine again. \n\nDave made his way back to his seat, there was a few claps. \n\n“Next up is Hank” \n\nEdit: Mistakes",
"\"And...that's when I did it. I ate his spleen, Diane. The whole thing.\"\n\nDiane gently nodded, then scribbled a few notes. Her facial expression displayed no trace of judgment. That took years of practice, no doubt.\n\n\"And how does that make you feel?\" Diane asked in her narcotic, white-chocolate voice.\n\nBill sighed heavily. \"I'm supposed to be completely up-front with you, right? You're not gonna think I'm evil or anything?\"\n\n\"Of course not, Bill. I need you to be completely honest. Help me help you.\"\n\n\"Right. Okay. Well, to tell the truth...I liked it. Loved it. Maybe too much.\"\n\nDiane nodded and made an empathetic \"mmm\" sound. Bill couldn't help but associate the \"mmm\" sound with the thought of the spleen...his mouth began to water, if only slightly. He swallowed and repressed it.\n\n\"I liked it too much, Diane. More tender than filet mignon. More complex, but less gamey than duck. Perfection.\"\n\n\"You liked it substantially more than the other organs you consumed?\"\n\n\"Yeah. That's the thing, Diane. I ate hearts, livers, arms, legs, and of course brains...but I couldn't get enough spleen. It's the chocolate chip cookie of the human organs. Yeah, other cookies are great and all, but they don't even compare to chocolate chip.\"\n\nDiane jotted more notes. Maybe Bill was imagining it, but she seemed to be losing a tiny bit of her facial composure. \"I need you to be completely honest with me, Bill. Have you had the craving for spleen since you received the antidote?\"\n\n\"Well, to be completely honest with you, Diane, yes.\"\n\nDiane's eyes widened.\n\nBill continued. \"Food just hasn't tasted the same. My wife made lasagna last night—her speciality—and it just tasted bland to me. Cheeseburgers? Boring. Tacos? Lackluster. I'm hungry, Diane. Starving. And the only thing that will satisfy me is—hey, what's the matter?\"\n\nDiane was gripping the armrests of her leather chair, face frozen in terror. Bill looked down at his hands—they were made of green, necrotic flesh."
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[WP] You increasingly suspect your neighbor is hoarding mythical creatures.
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"I rapped on my neighbour's door, exhausted and frustrated. He'd moved in last week, but he was already a thorn in my side, and I'd decided to do something about it. The problem wasn't him, per se, it was more the menagerie of... *pets* that he'd brought along. \n\nThe door opened slowly with a creak, and I saw Eddie's face peeking out from the behind the door. He was dishevelled, and had obviously woken up just a while ago. \"Hello,\" he mumbled, his voice quiet and mellow, \"What brings you here this morning?\" \n\nI sighed, frustrated. He was a difficult person to get angry at, always so soft-spoken and non-confrontational. Really, it was just his animals. \"Eddie, I'm sorry, but you really have to do something about your dog. It keeps howling at night, and its really affecting my sleep,\" I said, hoping that he wouldn't be too offended. \n\n\"Dog?\" he asked, sounding surprised. \"What dog? The only animal I have that howls at night is Fenr-… Ah, that dog. I'm terribly sorry about it, I'll see what I can do. Oh, here he is now!\" Eddie rambled on as a huge grey dog nuzzled his leg. \n\nExcept that the dog had pointy ears, suspiciously sharp canines, and was larger than any dog I knew of. In fact it looked suspiciously like... a wolf? \"Eddie, is that a bloody wolf?\" I asked, unable to keep the surprise out of my voice. \n\n\"Wolf? What wolf? This? No, no, Fen's not a wolf, are you Fen? See, he said no! This is just a... very large dog.\" he stuttered, sounding nervous. I raised an eyebrow, but decided to let it go. If he said it was a dog, I suppose it had to be a dog. \n\n\"Also, Eddie, are you keeping a monitor lizard in there? I could've sworn I saw a huge red lizard dart out of your garden and swallow a rat whole. Is that thing dangerous? I hope it isn't,\" I asked tentatively. \n\n\"Lizard? Ah, Smaug. No, no, he isn't dangerous. Just don't poke him, or he might bite. Or spit fire on you. But yes, yes, not dangerous at all, not dangerous at all,\" he mumbled. I raised an eyebrow at the \"spit fire\" part. Didn't know Eddie had a sense of humour. \n\n\"The one you have to look out for is the basili- no, sorry, the chicken. Whatever you do, don't look it in the eyes. It might kill you. Uh, by 'kill you' I mean it upsets him, so he might, uh, peck your eyes out,\" Eddie continued, stammering on endlessly. \n\nGreat. Just great. A massive wolf-sized dog, a fire-breathing monitor lizard and a bloody *chicken* that might kill me if I made eye contact with it. \n\n\"Fan-tastic, Eddie, thanks. Good to know,\" I intoned sarcastically. \"Please, for the love of God, keep your pets in check.\" I pulled his front door shut, and made my way back home, ignoring the odd-looking chicken that was clucking at me. \n\nI'd like to stir-fry the damn thing if I could. \n\n*my story-a-day project is [here](http://yearofpilgrimage.wordpress.com)* \n\n*other stories at /r/chasing_mist* "
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[WP] Write a story about a problem with the main characters enacting a complex plan to fix it, but have a glaringly obvious solution shine through the entire story.
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"The clock struck twelve. Melissa and Malcolm still hadn't figured out what to do. The mahogany table in front of them was covered with parchments of various sizes, all scribbled with figures and numbers. But it was futile. They were never going to succeed. \n\n\"Okay, what if a dragon.. \" Melissa began.\n\n\"No. Chimney.\"\n\n.\n\n\"I got it.\" It was Malcolm's turn. \"A bullet train.. \"\n\n\"It won't work, Malcolm. He knows trains aren't punctual.\"\n\n.\n\n\"What about paint? We could tell him it is just a different color and not the original.\"\n\n\"He isn't eight, Melissa.\"\n\n.\n\n\"Your mom. You called your mom?\"\n\n\"I did. She told me this was all ours. And yelled at me for calling her when she was with the sexy dentist.\"\n\n\"Man, she got Francis? They always give me the other bald guy.\"\n\nMalcolm shot her an ice cold glance. He wasn't in the mood. Too much was at stake here. At best, they had half an hour. \n\n. \n\n\"Alright, Melissa. We have no other choice. Once he gets in, we give him some of it.\"\n\n\"No.\"\n\n\"Oh, let me hear your genius solution?\"\n\n\"But Malcolm.. \"\n\n\"Well?\"\n\n\"Fine,\" she blurted out after thinking it through. They had no other choice. \n\n-----\n\n\"PAUL!\" Malcolm shouted at the top of his voice. \"Time for dinner!\" \n\nTheir nine year old son ran down the stairs at full speed and sat down at the dinner table with an excited look on his face. As soon as he saw the pieces of carrot in front of him, his face fell. His hands turned to fists, and his vocal chords started to warm-up. \n\n\"Paul,\" his father spoke. \"Here's a piece of chocolate. Finish your vegetables and you can finish the rest of it.\"\n\nMelissa looked away, unable to witness the injustice that awaited to happen. It had to be done. There was no other choice. \n\n-----",
"My coffee was hot and strong, the third one this morning so I was wired. Usually took at least three to get me into gear each morning. My crew knew not to bother me for that first hour of the shift while I put my head on straight. That’s why the knock on the office door was so unwelcome. I’d only been at work for 45 minutes and they were already bugging me. I ignored it, but they didn’t go away, the second knock was quickly followed by a click as the door opened. It was Jones, of course it was Jones.\n\n“We got a problem”.\n\nJones always had a problem, and he always thought his problems were “ours”.\n\n“Then fix it Jones, I’m still planning for the day”.\n\nJones looked around my office, probably thought my feet on the desk and the T.V. Running meant I wasn’t really doing anything. Screw him, he has no idea what the assistant shift managers job was all about. I could tell he wanted to say something else and he soon did.\n\n“It’s a serious one Carl, the machine is stuck again”.\n\nOh crap, not good, and this early in the shift. But I know why they come to me. I’m management, the assistant shift manager. Longest serving in the company. All the other weak links quit or got promoted. But not me, I was born to lead these 4 people. I was a problem solver.\n\n“Ok Jones, who got ripped”?\n\nJones shook his head and his tone softened. “ Darla again Carl, it got Darla”.\n\nThat wasn’t good news, it got Darla last time. Ripped her hard, what was it? About 2 weeks ago? I set my coffee down and heaved myself out of the chair. Time to get to work.\n\n“Let’s go”\n\nIt was a short walk through the warehouse, and work had ground to a stop. I needed to resolve this before our quota was effected. This kind of thing could set us back days. My entire crew was there, all 4 of them. Sometimes I was amazed any one person could lead this many people so effectively. Company thought the same because I was still here. I’d been doing it 5 long years. That was a company record at this position.\n\nDarla was staring at the machine, barely contained rage in her eyes. Jones just looked resigned. As he walked up with me. The other two were Jay and Spencer. Jay was sitting in the forklift and looked ready to execute the typical plan. Spencer, the snot nosed new guy I was supposed to be training was just standing there like a stuffed olive with 50 cents in his hand. What an idiot. Useless as always. How he thinks he can be an assistant shift manager is a complete mystery.\n\n“Ok Darla, I know it’s hard, but tell me what happened”.\n\nI could mostly tell by looking at the machine, but it was good leadership practice to let them have a stake. \n\n“Just like last time. A1, and then it just stopped”.\n\nI thought she might cry right there. I couldn’t have that. Others needed to use the machine and not be afraid of the outcome. I had to fix this and keep the team effective. Something like this could destroy a units morale.\n\n“It’s ok Darla, not your fault. Sounds like you operated according to best practices and procedure”.\n\nHer eyes lit up, her chin came up and she stood a bit straighter. Bingo, I knew that would get her back on track. I was a natural assistant shift leader! Now to fix the problem. That would be the tricky part. Always was.\n\n“Ok, did you try the first step? I know it’s dangerous. We lost Blakesley last year but it’s the fastest option”. \n\nI needed it done fast. We’d already lost half an hour of work. They shook their head affirmative. But I knew it was unlikely to work anyway. The problem was near the bottom. Rocking it was unlikely to fix it. It was also dangerous. The lower the issue the harder the rocking and the more likely to tumble over and hurt someone. That’s how Blakesly went down.\n\nThat’s when Spenser the doofus opened his yap.\n\n“Sir, I have fifty...”\n\nI cut him off immediately.\n\n“Shut it Spence, let the pros handle it. Watch and learn”.\n\nHe frowned and mumbled “It’s Spencer Sir, not Spense”.\n\nI stared him down, hard, the kind of leadership stare only a 5 year assistant shift manager can give. The little weasel just looked at the coins in his hand and sighed. What the hell did he think those would help anyway. I got back to the task at hand. \n\n“Ok Jay, you know the drill. Bring the fork up. Jones and Darla, get the stabilizing ropes. Spenser, make yourself useful and get everyone some hard hats and some water. Oh and some ear plugs. Never too safe! We’ll need it”.\n\nThis was the tricky bit. The forklift was easy but the weight and pulley system to stabilize the machine was a finely tuned and intricate system. When it was all ready I figured I’d give the team a pep talk.\n\n“Listen folks, we’ve been here before. In the past we’ve lost good men like Blakesly. But just last week we executed this like a finely tuned machine and got right back on quota. So this can be done quickly and safely if we all do our part. Ya with me”?\n\nIt was a great speech and I knew they craved my incredible leadership as well as my intuitive problem solving. I was going to make it happen once again and prove my assistant shift manager chops. Glory awaited. I took a deep breath. Time to execute. But of course Spencer just had to act like he knew what’s what.\n\n“Uh Sir, I uhm, so I have 50 cents here and I really think that...”\n\nI cut him off.\n\n“Look Spense, I’m sure that college taught you how to think outside the box. But the problem is that we have something stuck in the box. So all your college boy crap can’t help us. We have to fix this, get the crew straight in the head, and get back on quota, capiche kimosabe”?\n\nHe looked even dumber when he was confused. Good, let him be confused, and let him watch and learn.\n\n“Ok crew, execute”.\n\nJay lifted the machine with the fork. Darla and Jones used the ropes and pullys on each side to start rocking the machine side to side. Slowly at first, and then harder. I positioned to observe the item. It was well stuck, near the bottom. That was why manual rocking didn’t work. Anyway manual rocking was dangerous. Thing could topple over. We lost Blakesly that way. I wasn’t about to let that happen again.\n\nIt was stuck hard, and it wouldn’t budge. I told them to rock it harder. Just as I was about to call them off it fell! Right to the bottom. One beautiful, relatively intact Twinkie snack! Victory! Darla whooped with joy. Jay grinned hugely and lowered the snack machine to the floor. Jones just looked relieved.\n\nAnd the idiot Spenser? Well that moron just walked up and put 50 cents in the machine, pressed A1, and watched the next Twinkie fall to the bottom. I guess he just likes to live dangerously.\n\n\n\n",
"“Okay. We need to think this thoroughly. Jenine, grab me the blue prints,” Migel said with a stressful tone.\n\nJenine was his petite friend with long brown hair and large glasses dominating her face. She was quiet, like a mouse, and constantly did what she was told because she was in utter fear that she would lose her only friend.\n\nMigel spread out the blue print and motioned for Jenine to sit down on the concrete ground with him. \n\n“Listen. We have to think of a unique strategy that will allow us to intake clear, fresh molecules of water into our body. It is a mission Jenine. Something that has never been done.”\n\n“A mission, yes. Hard.”\n\n“And I believe that we can do it. Do you have any ideas to further develop our plan?”\n\n“We can…”\n\n“Aha!”\n\nMigel stood up and began to pace the ground. Jenine’s eyes kept wandering back and forth at Migel’s varying position.\n\n“Jenine!”\n\n“Yes?”\n\n“Listen this is a great idea. Back when I was in 6th grade, we made these homemade compasses, right? And what we needed was a cup, a cotton ball, and a needle.”\n\n“Migel! We can use the cotton ball to absorb the water!” Jenine squealed in joy, causing her glasses to fall off her face. \n\n“Exacly!” Migel matched her joy and a raft of pride swept him as he realized that he has discovered the greatest invention yet—how to drink water.\n",
"The remote was 2 metres away just on the table, and we had a plan. I wait for the perfect moment and announce \"Now!\". Jack threw the paperweight up onto the ceiling fan and landed after tons of failed attempts. The T.V. kept blaring out the awful show that was on. \n\nI then threw erasers at the switch and kept raising the intensity until it reached the maximum speed and stopped it with my final eraser. Causing it to knock down the remote. \"Yes\" we both exclaim.\n\nNow Jack had his phone controlling the RC car we had somewhere. Finally, after knocking many things over we had it just where we wanted it. We had the car be attached to a bowl to catch the remote.\n\nNow after carefully driving the car to the couch, we took a combination of interlocking pens, pencils, and soup spoon, and used it to carefully fish out the remote and change the channel. Success!\n\nSadly what we wanted to watch was too late by the time we got the remote. We put it back to its place on the TV table and go outside and do something less complex.",
"\"What are we going to do John?\" Said Susan, sniffling into her handkerchief. \n\n\"Simple Suzie, I'm going to get my daughter back.\" Said John, exhaling his cigarette and gulping down the last of his whiskey. \n\n\"Don't be crazy John, they'll gun you down like all the rest.\" Sobbed Susan. Hard years had broken her beautiful face. Ridges and canyons lined her cheek, turned to rivers by her tears. Large, soft curls of brown hair crowded around her stone colored eyes. \n\nJohn stood, his old wounds forcing him to pause and grimace. He exhaled flatly and walked smoothly to where Susan stood. \"No man walking whose been able to yet.\"\n\nSusan smiled through her tears and wiped the cold ball of sweat from his brow. \"John, you're what, twenty years past your prime? Don't go thinking you can tempt the devil anymore. All you'll go doing is getting yourself killed.\"\n\n\"If that's what it takes so be it. Rather have that than live in a world without her.\" John said, walking through the door.\n\nJohn drove down the streets, cherubs of brilliant light dancing across the slick oiled surface of the city after rain. Two by two, they danced over the hood of his car as the steady pump of his wipers beat out time. Rogue splashed of neon disturbed their dance, bounding off into the night. The engine growled in the night, pulsating with John's rage. \n\nJohn pulled into the warehouse parking lot where he knew they'd be hiding. He turned the key and let the engine rest. Small metallic chirps reassured him his pistol was ready. He opened the door and began the long walk in.\n\n\"Freeze, put your hands up!\" Cried a husky voice as the lot exploded with crimson light. John stood stock still and dropped his pistol. He watched as two SWAT officers escorted his daughter into the parking lot while a van was loaded with the perpetrators. \n\n\"Who the hell are you?\" John asked confused.\n\n\"NYPD, we got a call in about a kidnapping.\" \n\n "
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[WP] Jehovah’s Witnesses are actually a cult full of vampires and they go door-to-door in an attempt to have people invite them in.
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"The man at my doorstep was eerily pale, with red pupils focusing on me. He spoke in a faint deep-eastern Europe accent and held up a pamphlet. He gave into a big speech about \"Ze end of ze worl\" and when I told him it was 3 PM, he gasped in shock, and then exploded in the sunlight. \n\nThis marks the fourth one this month. The next morning, a shambling corpse at the window stumbled into the glass, his bony hands pawing at the window and clutching a Book of Mormon.\n"
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[WP] "And I promise you: Tomorrow."
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"I asked for this. I expected this. I *wanted* this, but I don't know why I hate it.\n\nI laid down at the hospital bed, studying every single crease and shadow it made. Someone stayed here. Someone rested knowing exactly what they were getting themselves into. \n\nThis is the third time I've asked someone for their tomorrow. Am I wrong? Am I a monster? It was slipping out anyway, so it should be something I can get.\n\n\"No, please! I'll offer mine!\" Some would say for those who offered. \"Take it quickly.\" Others would.\n\nHow can I make a choice? It's not mine to make. I have a job to do.\n\nI would be given my own tomorrow. The money will give me a better tomorrow. It's what she tells me. It's worth it for a good life in tomorrow with her.\n\n\"Have a nice day sweetie.\" She would tell me. After she would grab me and whisper in my ear. \"Just a few more. We can get out of this place. Just get some more. Give me some more okay? and I promise you: tomorrow.\"\n\nNot even the bruises behind my back are enough to tell me off from the wonderful tomorrow I can have with her.",
"BANG!\n\nHe was flung across the mud. His already dirty and torn uniform now stained with blood. I put on my helmet, got out of the shell hole I cowered in and sprinted over to the shell hole where he lay slumped and injured. I pointed to the red cross on my helmet. Anything I could say in my broken English would be a waste of breath. He saw my German uniform then his eyes went up to my helmet, allowing him to calm down immediately. The calmer a soldier is the better. I wiped the mud on my already muddy uniform. The artillery continued. \"He's calm, he'll listen,\" I reassured myself. \"I will come and get you. I promise you: Tomorrow.\" \n\nEdit: Punctuation",
"\"And I promise you: Tomorrow.\"\n\nHow many times had I said those empty words? Tomorrow I'll have dinner with you. Tomorrow I'll get some exercise. Tomorrow I'll take care of the kids and let you get some rest.\n\nAnd every time tomorrow was spent in the lab, until eventually we ran out of tomorrows.\n\nMorgan stirs on the table, reacting poorly to the treatments that had kept her alive this long.\n\nI can fix this. I didn't spend years working on this cure only to fail when it was finally needed. You will live another day.\n\nI promise you: Tomorrow."
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[WP] You wake up one morning to find that everyone in your house is still asleep and won’t wake up. But it’s not just your house; it’s the whole world. You decide to hop online to see if anyone else is awake. You find one new post titled “Anyone else awake?” It has 3 comments
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"\nI walk into the living room to see my husband asleep on the couch. It was not uncommon for him to fall asleep here on accident. \"Honey, it's time to get up\", I say, as I walk closer to nudge him awake. I touch his shoulders and try to gently shake him awake. \"Hey it's time to get up\", I say.\n\n I start shaking more aggressively, but strangely he doesn't budge. My heart quickens in pace as I think of the worst possible scenarios.\n\n'Honey?\", I ask again as my eyes start welling up. \nPlease don't be dead....please. \nI pull him towards me and check his pulse. He has one, but he's not responding to me. \"Hey, wake up, this isn't funny\", I say shaking him harder this time. \"What the hell is wrong with you?\" Time seems to stretch on forever as my attempts become more and more frantic. I decide to call an ambulance. The phone rings, but no one answers. \n\nWhat the hell is going on? I try again. Still nothing.\n\nI walk outside to find help and everything seems eerily still. My neighbors car sits untouched in the yard, but he is normally at work by now. Maybe he's off today? \nI run next door and ring the bell. No response. It's okay, don't panic, I think. There is no convincing myself that everything is okay. My heart is racing, as I rush back to my place.\nSomeone needs to be awake....right? I grab my phone and attempt to call my mother. No answer. My father? No answer.My sister...nothing. My friends...every single one goes to voicemail. \n\nI open the internet, panicked, and type in \"Anyone else awake?\" \nThe search results though only taking fractions of a second feel like a lifetime to pop up.\nThe results show one recent link with 3 comments. \n3 comments, means I’m not alone. \nI can feel my heart throbbing as I press the link.\n\n\n",
"End of the world and I decide to use the internet like the screen fixed salt chewing dopamine junkie I am. I unplugged my monitor and threw it to the floor. I checked to see if my brother Bill flinched. He did not. \n\nWith a finger on the wrist, Bill wasn't dead at all, a pulse like that. I gently pulled at his eyelid, rapid eye movements. Deep sleep. The guy better be dreaming about all things good, cheeseburgers and puppies or whatnot. It's the reality of this I don't want him to see. Being the sensitive type, Bill wouldn't be having the calmed senses of his blood related brother, me. \n\nI looked at the monitor on the floor and in my head I saw images of all the time spent in it. The grassy fields of this game, rainy rooftop of that game. The sounds of it all, online videos, all my books... Maybe I ought to not throw it all away yet. I picked up the monitor and plugged it in. The one post had become three hundred. Users all over the forums were waking up. Most intriguing of all was the repeated recounts of this dream they all had. \n\n\"I was floating around in space, thinking, what the heck. Then a big hand came flying towards me and a man appeared with a big brown beard. Told me he was God. Told me... he was coming back.\" \n\n\nThis comment with all points was repeated and posted all over in the stylings of each personality. The message was clear.\n\n\nBill tapped me on the shoulder and he said something different. His story was a statement compared to the tales told online. And it wasn't what he said shook that me. It was how calm he looked as he said it. \n\n\n\"He's here.\" "
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[WP] A year have passed by since the death of your father, a criminal head. You didn’t know this fact until you finally inherited his immense wealth two months ago along with which came the invitation of the criminals.
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"I always knew my father was a businessman. I just thought he was the legal kind. \n\nSo what the police raided our homes more than a few times growing up? My father was always going to court and beating the cases, *that's* why they were mad. \n\nNot only was he a minority, but he was also an immigrant. Two strikes against him from the start.\n\nThe third strike was that he became rich. It was easier for me to overlook the little things - like the guns in the house - because I truly *believed* that society was out to get him. He was an anomaly. He wasn't supposed to be driving fancy cars; buying homes in expensive, mostly-white neighborhoods; or sending his kids to prestigious schools.\n\nHe was supposed to be the bellhop that quietly took their bags to their rooms when they checked into a nice hotel. He was supposed to be the valet that parked their cars when they pulled up to nice restaurants. He was supposed to be the waiter, the plumber, the guy who cut their lawns, the window-washer, the garbage collecter, the mailman, the homeless guy begging for change on the sidewalk to get something to eat.\n\nSo, **why, why, why** wasn't he? \n\nThey couldn't understand it, and it pissed them off to no end. My father was generally a cool and composed man, but sometimes the stress of holding it all together would cause him to lose it and another side of him would emerge.\n\nOne time I came home from school early to find my father and his friends sitting around a beat up, bloodied and bruised looking man, who kept repeating, \"Please no more, no more...I'll get you your money...please...\"\n\nMy father had seen me looking and jumped up in surprise, saying, \"Son, why are you home so early?\" I explained that school had closed early today, and I could see him blinking in surprise like he hadn't known schools could that. Then he nodded, and said, \"Go upstairs and start on your homework then. Later we can go out for ice-cream.\" He grabbed me again as I turned to leave, and whispered, \"And don't tell Mama, eh?\" With a smile and wink, he sent me on my way.\n\nBut it hadn't bothered me. The man that had been beaten up had *obviously* stolen some money from my father, and in my mind deserved every bit of the beating he had got - and from the sounds coming from downstairs - *still* getting.\n\nAnd as I had walked up the steps, I remember hearing the sound of muffled screaming, and thinking, *Good for him. Next time he'll think twice about messing with my Papa.* \n\nPlus, those incidents were few and far in-between. I never caught my father doing that again in our home.\n\nI grew up thinking I would follow in his path by majoring in business. But before I could ask him specifically what type of business he dealt in, he died. Car accident. I was in the 11th grade. \n\nHe must have been expecting his death because I didn't have to lift a finger. Everything was already paid off and taken care of. A year later, in my final year of high school, I received my inheritance. I used it to go to college and, in honor of my father, majored in business.\n\nAlong with my inheritance, I received two letters. One from my father, and another that just said: *Your Father's Friends.*\n\nI didn't read either of them. It was too painful to. I took them and placed them in storage. \n\nFreshman year was great. My grades were good. The girls were good. Because of my inheritance, I didn't have to worry about ever getting a job again in my life, but I still got a little part-time gig for the responsibility.\n\nLife was swell.\n\nThen life became hell.\n\nI had just finished work and I was heading to my car in the parking lot when I was intercepted by an older guy dressed in all black.\n\nBehind him was a van. \"Get in the van,\" he ordered.\n\n\"What?\" I sputtered. \"No! Are you-\"\n\nI felt a presence behind me, but before I could turn, the unmistakable feel of the barrel of a gun pressed into my back. \n\nThe man in front of me said, \"We're friends of your father. Obviously you didn't get my letter.\"\n\nI didn't say anything.\n\n\"We're not here to hurt you,\" he continued. \"But we will apply pressure if needed.\" \n\nThe gun in my back dug in deeper.\n\n\"Get in the van,\" he said.\n\nI got in the van.\n\nThe guy with the gun got in beside me and closed the door. \n\nThere were other men inside. All of them were older men, dignified but in a crude way. Like they could hangout with the cleaning staff in the lobby getting drunk and telling fart jokes, then go upstairs and hob-nob with the rich, upper class. \n\nThese were men that had acquired their wealth through hardwork and cunning. You could see the intelligence in their eyes. These were men that had made it to the top, or knew people at the top, but never forget the little people at the bottom. You could see the warmth in the curve of their smiles.\n\nThese were men like my father.\n\nOne of them, a man with a lone silver streak in his slicked back, black hair, flapped a hand at the gunman and said, \"The gun. Put the gun away. Why do you have a gun out for anyway?\"\n\nThe van was customized. There was a poker table bolted down to the floor in the middle of the van, and enough bolted down chairs for the men around the table to sit on.\n\nSilver Streak swung his wizened gray eyes over to me and said, \"Your father was the only one of us that never got caught.\"\n\n\"Yeah,\" added another man with a nod. \"It seemed suspicious to us at first, but he was a smart man. And he always took good care of us. Always made sure whoever was prison had protection and money on their books. Took care of our families on the outside, too.\"\n\nA somber silence with plenty of head nodding as they recalled the good deeds of my late, great father. \n\nBut my father was dead now, and here I was. His only child. His only son. At least, the only son or child he claimed. I knew he had other women besides my Mama, but the fact that he had never fathered any children outside of his marriage to her was - in my eyes - a testament to the amount of love and respect that he had for her. \n\nSilver Streak, possibly the leader of the group, broke the silence. \"We just wanted to warn you. Your father stayed clean, but many people were envious. Jealous. They couldn't get to him when he was alive, so they'll get to you while he's dead as revenge.\"\n\nAll I wanted to do was get out of that van, honestly. But, well, the gunman.\n\nThe doors opened again, and the gunman was sliding out the car and pulling me along with him.\n\nFrom inside the van, Silver Streak said his last words, \"We'll keep in touch. Congrats on going to college kid. Your father would be proud.\"\n\nThe gunman got back in the van. The door slammed. The van started and drove off. \n\n\n"
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[WP] In the galaxy, most admirals and generals are genetically modified and trained from birth to become commanders. Aliens are surprised that Earth's military leaders don't need such things to be as good or better than the aliens.
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"\"...with exclusive mentors and access to the history of the ancestors. Punishment is common and dispensed with ease. When the younglings understand the concepts, they move on. Some do not move on and are eliminated from the program entirely.\"\n\n\nThe diplomat sat across the Minister explaining the breeding of military strategists, how their military progressed against the backdrop of various races. Their conglomeration allowed no deviation from standard battle tactics until those commanders were present in the field, often as green as the enlisted members under them.\n\n\n\"I came to this meeting out of respect of your species most recent achievements. As detailed as my system is, I'm sure yours must be a fascinating bureacracy of...\"\n\n\nThe Minister sipped his coffee. The diplomat's varying degree of deference and condescension was dull, and he was beginning to tire.\n\n\n\"Our system is simple. We promote those that show intrinsic battle sense to a position of leadership. Those that exhibit rare ability are often promoted operations that is deemed proportional to their abilities, sometimes even if a task is daunting. Historically, there have been leaders that challenged impossible tasks, anticipated fights, baited enemies. They learn from battle, their experience and more. That is all.\"\n\n\nFleshy eyes blinked a few times. The diplomat's expression changed from a strange smirk to a flat expression. Despite their advance technology, a small rebellion cabal of leaders and their private army by a platoon of men. \n\n\n\"When you promote your soldiers, at what age do they initiate their-\"\n\n\n\"18 or 19, most places.\" The minister replied.\n\n\n\"But is that not too late?\" The diplomat cried.\n\n\n\"Does not appear that way.\"\n\n\n\"What if the commander turns out to be incompetent?\"\n\n\n\"We can him.\" He slurped the remainder of the coffee. \"Would you like so more tea?\"\n\n\nThe pair stood. \"Then, you, as the Minister of Defense must be valiant and won man-\"\n\n\n\"I'm a politician, but yes I served in the forces. Adaptation, my friend is the key.\"",
"Jared Lowered his Starbust Organga Beer chuckled at his friend's question. \"Our secret?\" he said. \"You ever taken a look at human history, Zexyl?\"\n\nZexyl's antenna-ed friend clicked his mandibles and clapped his front paws, his specie's customary equivalent to the shrug. \"Is not somilar to urs? War is terribad, but needed for self-defense sometimes?\"\n\nJared waved his hand, turning the home game console display from the tactical game he'd demolished his buddy at into a standard viewing screen. \"Cube, bring up my favourited history playlist please\".\n\nThey'd only planned to hang out for about 4 hours, and were well into their second. But they stayed up late into the cycle watching holo-vid after holo-vid. They rapidly moved on from Jared's usual favourite history channel and were well into old earth documentaries.\n\nThe Alpha-centauri colony civil war of the twenty-four-hundreds, the barely-averted nuclear warfare and information wars of the late 21st century, the World Wars, the purging of the natives from north america, the american civil war, the ages of strife in the middle east and around the mediterranean, the endless genocidal wars of the classical and bronze ages, all the way back to the bronze age collapse...They touched on all of it.\n\nFinally, enough was enough, and they sat in silence for a while, Jared casually munching the last few kernels of his second bowl of good old earth popcorn.\n\nZexyl finally spoke. \"Soz...Your specium's always been fighting isself, reh? Never had real peace?\" The insectoid didn't move an inch, his antennae stiff, sensing for danger.\n\nJared curled the corner of his lip up \"Not for long, no. War sometimes skips a few generations in places, but you can bet that as long as there's two humans in the quadrant with any kind of power, someone's gonna want someone dead so they can have the rest. It's pretty much been the whole evolution of the species. Humans get born, humans form families, families form tribes, tribes form nations, nation leaders want each others stuff, they convince the people of their tribes to kill each other, and the winners get to chart the next bit of human history. And it's always the peaceful people, the ones who just want to live our lives, left holding the bag. Always. Human history is built on the bones of the conquered, save for small, fleeting moments where we think for just a second we can actually all get along. War with each other is pretty much burned into our goddamn DNA.\"\n\nZexyl relaxed just a little bit, hearing the sadness in Jared's cynical voice. \"There hasta have been at lease some tribes in your planet that said no, they didn't wanna go to war?\"\n\nJared chuckled again, this time with no mirth whatsoever \"Whose bones do you think sit at the bottom of that pile?\""
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[WP] Hell has taken over the world, but one small colony has yet to be taken over, and you are the leader of this colony.
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"The room was quiet. Men and women stood motionless, starting up at me from below the platform I perched myself on. Even their children were quiet, somehow processing how grave our situation was. What was I supposed to say to them? We all knew where this was going. Our final shred of hope had just been torn from our grasp, and they could all see it on my face. And still they waited, watching my face, expecting some news of a miracle. I cleared my throat and lifted the microphone to my lips. \n\n“We've lost contact with the Russian military.” I could feel the air leave the room as the news sunk in. A few people sunk to the floor, hugging their family around them. \n\n“I... don't need to tell you what this means for us,” I said. How do you prepare three hundred people—the *last* three hundred people—for their own deaths? For the extinction of their species? “We have a large stockpile of weapons, still. I know it must seem like there's no point—and I certainly understand that sentiment. Some of you have your entire families here. I know if mine was still around, I'd want to spend this final time by their side. Our barricades should hold for a few more hours. I encourage each of you to spend these final hours in whatever way you desire.” Several groups began to make their way to the back of the building. I waited for them to exit. \n\n“The rest of you,” I continued, “will make this the hardest fight these fuckers have every had. There are no more ranks, no more operating procedures, no more rules. If the fighting starts and you realize you'd rather be somewhere else, no one is going to stop you. I intend to fight to my very last breath, but I will not force a single one of you to do the same.” An occasional whisper aside, the room remained quiet. “The largest group approaching us is coming from the west, and should be here in about an hour. You all know where the armory is. Try to keep it orderly—we've got plenty of time. Everyone needs to have a weapon.” I looked around at about 400 men and women, all with looks of both terror and anger. “This is our planet. This is our race. This is our final stand. We will not go quietly. And we will not go quickly. Let's get these sons of bitches!” A portion of the room gave approving grunts and screams, while the rest remained unsure of what their final decision would be. As for me, I wanted to kill as many of these demonic assholes as I possibly could. \n\nThe outer wall of the base was about fifty feet high, concrete on the bottom half, and steel cage the rest of the way up. About fifty of us sat on a catwalk at the top, watching as smoke filled the sky in the distance. The sun was setting and a cool wind was blowing from the west, carrying the smell of fire and death. I clutched my rifle tightly and said a short prayer, accepting my inevitable fate. \n\n“General, sir,” a young man nudged me on the shoulder. \n\n“No more titles, son,” I told him. “The name is Jim.” \n\n“...Jim, then. The guys want to know... what's the signal? For the fighting to start?” the kid couldn't have been more than eighteen, and his voice was shaky. \n\nI looked out at the fiery army crossing the horizon. “When their close enough to kill, light 'em up.” I said. \n\n“Got it, sir. Er, Jim.” \n\n“Good luck, kid.”\n\nIt took a mere fifteen minutes for the army to reach us. From down below I heard a man yell, “Hounds!” and the shooting began. They looked like wolves with mange, fur hanging off in clumps. Smoke rose from their nostrils and parts of their ribcages were exposed beneath burnt flesh. The smell of sulfur accompanied them, and they tore through flesh like it was nothing. I pointed my rifle into the herd and unloaded. At the very least, they were easy to kill. A few bullets did the job. \n\nNext up was the imps. Nasty little creatures. They were climbing the fence with ease, and I tried to shoot as many as I could before they could reach the top. Our best bet was to stop them from getting over the fence. I had no delusions about how this would end, but I was hoping to give these families as much time together as possible. I heard a hiss to my right and saw on land on the man next to me, separating his head from his shoulder with ease. I turned and fired three rounds directly into its skull, which sent it flying off the side of the catwalk. It splattered on the pavement below. \n\nA huge crash sounded below and shook the entire wall. I looked down to see a truly massive creature, at least double the size of an elephant. It had massive black tusks and a slender scorched body like some kind of dinosaur. It rammed the wall, sending concrete flying in every direction. Several of us focused our fire on the creature, but it seemed mostly unfazed. And then I saw the kid from before running towards it, on the outside of the wall. He ran past hounds and imps alike, each one swatting at him and just barely missing. Several people shot the creatures around him, buying him time. With a grenade in hand, he ran toward the massive beast. He pulled the pin and tossed the greande directly into the creatures mouth, just before the beast rammed the wall once more—crushing the kid in the process. His sacrifice was not for nothing, though—the grenade succeeded in blowing the head right off of the monstrosity. \n\nUnfortunately, several more were appraching. The wall began to crumble—it had been too severely damaged in the attack. I could feel the catwalk begin to waver and the cracks in the wall spread rapidly. \n\n“Everyone, off the wall! It's coming down!” I yelled so loud it hurt my throat, but people began climbing down immediately. I was halfway down the ladder when it all started to fall. I tried to push myself off, but the momentum was too strong and I fell to the ground. The catwalk and fencing fell against the barracks behind us, which saved us all from being crushed—but I couldn't move. The fall appeared to have broken my back, and all I could do was watch as people scattered around me. Hounds and Imps climbed the rubble in seconds, decimating the crowd with little effort. Screams sounded from all around me as gunfire grew less and less frequent. An imp finally spotted me on the ground and ran towards me, snarling. I managed to pull my pistol form my hip and land a shot right between its black, dead eyes—but the sound of the gunshot attracted the others. This was it. This was the end. I knew I was going to die, but I refused to go out like that. Before they could reach me, I put the gun to my temple and finished the job."
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[WP] Brain transplants were never meant to be a ticket to immortality. The super-rich act as sponsors, funding networks of body donors to live the lives of their dreams. The catch? When the sponsor dies, whichever donor is closest to them has their body commandeered to house the sponsor’s brain.
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"The thing is, everyone told me I was lucky. They told me that I was lucky so often that I started to believe it. The teachers at my junior school were amazed that I was chosen so young, but not entirely surprised. They knew my potential, even then. When my parents got the telecall they were jubilant, hugging me and telling me that this was the best thing that could have happened for my family. That they knew putting in an application to be a donor would give them - and me, of course - all the best chances for a charmed life. \n\nI was eight when I was chosen. Very young, but you have to understand. My parents themselves were finalists to be donors to Graeme Stumpf, the richest man of our time. Neither was ultimately chosen but their genes were kept on file and they were encouraged to breed, just as all donors are. The sponsors encourage proliferation of the best genes possible, since those genes might someday be their own. I believe that this one selfishness disguised as generosity has made the world a better place. I wish I could admire them for that.\n\nBecoming a donor is a very simple legal process. A lawyer gives paperwork to your parents and they sign without reading, stars and dollar signs in their eyes blinding them to any potential ramifications. And then you are beholden to a sponsor, that if he or she dies or is in danger of dying, and you are the closest of their collection of curated bodies, you will be taken and flown to their location and their brain will be put into your body so they can continue to live. Your brain? Your brain gets donated to residents or made into cat food or whatever they do with worthless organs. It doesn’t matter where your brain goes, because your brain was never the part of you that was destined for great things. Your body is all that matters.\n\nI was ten when my sponsor took ill. In Seattle, which was within an hour of me, and as is procedure, I was taken from my school in front of all of my classmates, I was given the preliminary drugs to prepare my body for my sponsor’s brain, and I was kept in the hospital for six days while my sponsor recovered. All procedure. All completely normal. No one batted an eye at my being there, one floor below the sick man who might possess my body, silent tears streaking down my cheeks because the drugs paralyzed most of my conscious actions. Only the nurses looked at me with pity. I think the doctors only saw me as an itch in their fingers, eager to hold the scalpel that would take my life and give it to a man who would reward them beyond imagining.\n\nMy donor got better and I was taken home without fanfare. My parents hugged me briefly, and told me that they were glad that I was home, but between the monetary payout they would have received if I had been needed and the grief that they would have to go through in the event of what amounted to the death of their child, they kept their distance from then on out.\n\nThat was when I made my own decision. My body was what they wanted. Was all that they wanted. I was kept on special diets, and sensors tattled when I snuck extra treats and candies, and I was forced to keep an exercise regimen that would not have looked out of place for an olympic athlete, all at ten years of age. That was when I decided that as long as they overlooked the fact that I had a brain of my own, forgot that I was a person who could form my own plans, I would use whatever little advantage that gave me.\n\nI was not bred for my brains. In school I was consistently in the bottom quintile of students, and my teachers all but gave up on me when my donorship was made public. Why waste their time on me when they had students who might actually make something of themselves? Everyone knew what happened to donors. We were livestock. A few got either very lucky or very unlucky and escaped to drugs or alcohol or something, anything, that made their bodies imperfect. They were forced to pay back everything to their sponsor. Every accrued cent of the clothes, the dietitian, the personal trainer, the home for their families, all paid for. \n \nThe price, in many of these cases, was hard labor. Because even in the end, their bodies were the only thing worth anything.\n\nThat would not be me.\n\nThe day after I returned to school after my brush with death I stole a book from the school library. I could have borrowed it but the librarian had a shrewd eye and a stern tongue, and I didn’t want anyone to know my plan for self-betterment. After my meal, provided by our personal chef, and my evening training, I went to bed early. I couldn’t claim illness, as illnesses in donors were very carefully monitored. But everyone assumed correctly that Seattle was a harrowing experience, and left me alone.\n\nThere, under the covers of my room, I read the first book I had picked up since I was chosen.\n\nI knew that I would never, if I could possibly help it, let them take my brain from me. Let them make my body into something perfect for my sponsor. I wouldn’t fight it. But I would, from this day forth, take equal steps to remake my brain into something worth saving.\n\nLet them try to take my life from me. I would not allow it.\n\n~~~\n\nThank you so much for this prompt! I really love this idea. A network of possible donor bodies is such a cool concept."
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[WP] the military has been looking for a new generation of 'wind talkers'. What they got were geeks that speak fictional languages.
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"\"It didn't go well\" the colonel said from his prison bed. \"We didn't expect it, we should have, we would have if our clearance processes had taken the new background into effect.\n\nHell, they were geeks, what harm could they do?\" He lamented.\n\nThey won the war. Not the war the generals wanted to fight, but the larger one that the people were fighting. They forgot that geeks weren't motivated by the same things the military and politicians were. They didn't want strategic reserves of anything, they didn't want to get concessions from a defeated enemy country, mostly they wanted to be left alone.\n\nThey worked in concert with each other, building on a shared love of pop culture and fandom to become an army that was spread across borders. They relayed strengths and weaknesses of the militaries that thought they held their loyalty. They worked their way through countless battles and skirmishes.\n\nAnd they recorded it all.\n\nAt what was to be the most decisive battle none of the l33t-speakers could be found. They had spirited each other away. By then the generals and politicians had other problems. Terabytes of data had been released. The people saw what their leaders had been doing, how a group that was thought to be the lowest socially acceptable had stood against them and they realized they too could stand against them.\n\nIt was a short battle when all of the citizens of the world rebelled against the corrupt leaders of their countries, but it has taken us so far already."
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[WP] A child friendly story about a bunny.
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"One fine afternoon Bridget Bunny was hopping down the road that led to Farmer Dagda’s farm. Along the way, she met Fagin Fox, who was very hungry and liked to eat rabbits for dinner.\n\n“Hullo, Bridget Bunny,” said Fagin. “Where are you going today?”\n\n“I am going to Farmer Dagda’s farm to gather carrots,” Bridget replied.\n\n“I don’t like to eat carrots,” confessed the fox. “I like to eat bunnies like YOU!”\n\n“Oh dear,” cried Bridget, hopping back out of Fagin’s grasp. “Well, you can’t eat me like this.”\n\nThe fox looked at the bunny in confusion. “What do you mean?”\n\n“I won’t taste any good at all,” Bridget explained. “I would taste much better in a stew.”\n\n“I don’t know how to make bunny stew,” said Fagin Fox sadly.\n\n“I will show you,” Bridget offered kindly, and led the fox further down the road. Soon they came to a bridge that crossed a river. “First, you need a pot full of water.”\n\n“But we don’t have a pot,” complained Fagin.\n\n“That’s okay,” Bridget Bunny replied. “Just go down to the river and drink as much water as you can, and we’ll make the stew in your tummy.”\n\nNow Fagin was a suspicious fox, and he was worried that Bridget would hop away while he was drinking, so he held on to the bunny’s paw as he went to the water's edge. Fagin drank and drank, and Bridget Bunny would say “More! Drink more!” until he was quite full.\n\n“Next we need a cabbage,” explained the bunny. “It is not far to Farmer Dagda’s farm now.”\n\nSo hand-in-hand the fox and the bunny continued down the road to the farm and soon they saw a wide field full of cabbages. Fagin held Bridget’s paw tightly as they squeezed under the gate and found the biggest, roundest cabbage they could. Bridget sat thoughtfully as the fox ate the whole vegetable.\n\n“Next, we should find some onions,” she said, and the two went into the next field. There they dug up the two largest, brownest onions they could find, and Fagin Fox ate them too. By this time, he was feeling very full.\n\n“Don’t worry,” Bridget explained calmly. “Now we just need the carrots.” So they went into the next field and Bridget brought the fox the six brightest, sweetest carrots of the bunch. Slowly, the fox ate them and by the end, he was feeling very sick indeed.\n\n“I’m too full to eat you now, Bridget Bunny,” Fagin said miserably, and very slowly—for he was very uncomfortable with all the food in his tummy—he began to walk home.\n\nMeanwhile, Bridget Bunny collected all the carrots she wanted for her dinner and skipped safely back to her burrow."
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[WP] In a world, where people are ressurected in their prime a day after dying, death has become a joke...
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"Death has been nothing more than a mere annoyance for the past two centuries. At first, we taught our kids about Death, we let them know what it was and how it worked, but over time we neglected to teach and they to learn. Death became nothing more than a myth and worst of all, a bedtime story.\n\n---\n\n*I've been alive for six decades now and this day will mark my 56th death. I'm a very careless individual but I've never needed to be careful, death is of no consequence to me, a mere annoyance is all but even that lessens as you plan on dying. You stop taking your ID with you, your phone, your wallet and your car are left somewhere safe, usually near the local church or resurrection spot. Most leave a change of clothes with their car, some of the resurrection places actually have lockers you can rent to keep spare clothing and cash in for when you do inevitably die. Most don't opt for this option as they never know where they'll die, so its a waste of money.*\n\nAs my eyes opened for the first time in this body, the light burned through my pupils and instantly I shut my eyes and uttered an annoyed groan in protest.\n\n\"Get up, get up.\" An annoyed and decidedly male voice echoed through the hall.\n\n\"I'm gettin', I'm gettin'.\" My voice was groggy and slurred but it appeared he had heard me for he didn't tell me again and left me in peace for a brief moment. As I threw my legs over the side of the tomb I lay upon he rushed back to me and tossed me a gown. Shoving my arms through the sleeves took multiple tries and tying the knot on the front was borderline impossible, anticipating this the attendant tied the knot for me and ushered me away from the tomb. Before I could make it ten steps away I heard an incredibly loud crash of thunder followed by a searing bright light. Another one of us had died and been resurrected.\n\n*Dear god that scares the crap outta me every time.*\n\nAs he helped me into a seat he rushed off to help the new arrival. Minutes later, though it felt like weeks, my legs were stable and my eyes had adjusted to being used again and I was capable of getting myself outside and attempting to find my gear.\n\n*How had I died again?* This thought rattled around in my brain for a few minutes as I trudged my way towards the last place I remember seeing my car. *Oh, that's right. I'd jumped off a waterfall and smashed my head into a rock at the bottom.* Not the best way to die, but not the worst way I'd ever died though. I'd say it rated about a 6 on the 'fucking ow' scale. Getting burnt alive, that's an 8, acid, also an 8. Getting eaten by a croc or a hippo, those are an 8.5, a heart attack is a poultry 4. Mostly due to the shock of your heart betraying your body and no longer functioning. I stopped dwelling on these thoughts as I found my car next to the road. *Now where did I leave my keys?* I stumbled around searching under random rocks thinking I was clever about hiding them when I saw a shiny glint coming from on top of my front right wheel. *Course I wasn't crafty about it. Why would I be?* I sighed deeply and stumbled over and retrieved my keys. Unlocking my car the first thing I did was put on some pants, a gown is not appropriate attire for a man to be galavanting about in, it's very breezy outside. With that sorted, I put on the rest of my clothes and climbed into my car. *Now what to do with the rest of my day?* I sat there for a few minutes contemplating, when nothing came to mind I put the keys in the ignition, turned the car on, took off the handbrake and simply drove in whatever direction the car was already facing.\n\nI turned the radio on and tuned it until I found a news station. The news reporter was frantically spouting some nonsense about how those who had died in the last 10 minutes hadn't shown up at the resurrection spots as usual and now a manhunt was on for those missing few. I didn't think anything of it, they'd merely mistaken the resurrection spot for somewhere else. At least, that's what I told myself. It was nearly 2 hours later when I pulled over and was about to turn the car off when the radio squawked at me.\n\n\"URGENT Emergency Notice. Death is back. I repeat. DEATH IS BACK. We've had over 100 reported cases of those dying and not reappearing at the resurrection spots or the church. No sign has been found of the person other than their leftover body from when they died.\" *Leftover body? Usually, the body disappears when...oh shit.* \"I repeat, death is back. Please be careful unti...\" I turned the radio off there and stared down at my hands. Death...death was back. It was a myth for my entire life, I didn't even think it was possible for it to come back, I'd heard about it from my studies in school but most hadn't. Most didn't even know what the word meant. They just used it as an insult, or a fable akin to the that of the boogyman. Frantically I clawed at my door handle and threw the door open just as the vomit spewed forth from my mouth. I sat there, spit flowing from my open maw, staring down at the vomit on the ground until I heard a loud horn racing towards me. Suddenly my world was blazingly white. I looked up and saw a semi-truck speeding towards me before I could dive out of the way I heard a laugh carry across on the wind. An old, croaking laugh accompanied by the sounds of rattling bones as the truck impacted with my car. \n\nThe impact had flung me from my car and brought me crashing down onto the hard gravel 10 metres away. As I lay there on the ground, my lungs slowly filling with blood, my ribs, arm and leg aching from being broken I heard the sound of wood striking asphalt. I tried to roll my head towards the sound when a figure blocked the sun from my vision. As I stared at him, his face became clear, or rather, the lack thereof a face. He smiled broadly at me and tapped me with his scythe. \n\n\"You're lucky number 113.\" He croaked at me. Each time his jaw moved it clacked loudly. I heard the sound of him breathing deeply and he began to laugh again, that same croaking laugh I had heard before the semi hit my car. \"Its good to be back.\" Then he brought the scythe down on my head and all that I was, would ever be, vanished and was replaced with nothing but a corpse.\n\n---\n\nIf ya enjoyed it go here --> https://www.reddit.com/r/Ceruberus/"
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[WP] You have the power to see other peoples thoughts displayed as text above their head, all is fine until you walk into a clothing store and find that all the mannequins are thinking.
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"Privacy? Privacy is great; I told James while we strolled through the pier, him looking at the huge cranes unloading cargo, filled with clothes still fresh with sweat, meanwhile I watched his head blink like a Christmas tree, with multiple thoughts surfacing:\n\n( What bout crime investigations?)\n\n( punch person in head! )\n\n( Nooooo! No! )\n\n( I could go some quesadillas... )\n\n( Ask now? after lunch? )\n\n( Is the box in my pocket? Yes )\n\nSure, but what about criminal investigations? He asked before dashing to a table at a desert 'mexican' restaurant. ( Ha! Mexican, that place was so fake they don't even deserve double quotes )\n\nCriminal investigations are not a carte blanche to eavesdrop on the whole of some...\n- Wait! I have something important to ask you, interrupted James - Do you... Do you believed that the government is hiding proof of alien existence in order to not lose its power to a higher bureaucracy? ( yep, really important, OK no hurry, take your time )\n\nSince my catastrophic decision of telling a close friend that I've started seeing thoughts, which lead her to a mind loop of always thinking what I was seeing in her head, which begat to her suicide/attempted murder with a/on my throat, I've decided to hold on tight to my little secret while being friendly to all disturbed people of the world (everyone) and specially to James, who believes in UFOs, herbal shampoo, that there are mind readers \"out there\", and plan ways to make them reveal themselves.\n\nAfter disappointing quesadillas and genuine laughter he asked me to accompany him to the end of the pier ( the light must be perfect ) he thought. \n\nBefore us a parade of knock off stands and a sea of people thinking the exact same words about food, money, sex; sometimes I forget about their bodies and they look all the same. \n\nWe walked and talked, but something was off tough, a group of mannequins in front of an extra large clothes shop caught my eye, they had faint lights on them: ( hunger )( no )( not like this ) almost imperceptible. I turned to James and was about to ask him if he could see them too.\n\nThen everything happened at once, James looked at me with a triumphant look, distraught I step back pushing a mannequin which slammed on the street, revealing a feeble body inside, almost a skin bound skeleton, trying to smuggle themselves from some terrible reality.\nJames was about to ask Do you marry..., but I closed his lips with my hand, prodded him up from his knees and said No, I mean yes, but not here, not now.",
"I've always tried to use my powers for good. When I saw that someone was anxious about something, I'd try and help them out. Or if they were depressed, I'd try to cheer them up. A surprising amount of people are thinking about sex a lot, and when you can actually see them thinking it, it affects you a bit. I wouldn't say I'm a nymphomaniac or anything, it's just that it's around me all the time. Whenever I'm alone with someone, I can see that they're thinking about touching my body, and it's a turn-on, you know? But I could also read that they were nervous, and not likely to make the first move. I've slept with a lot of shy, nerdy types who have trouble flirting.\n\nAnyways, I was fine with this. Being a mind reader the way I am is easier that what you see on TV. You know, those guys who are so distraught and confused because it's like a radio broadcasting in their head all the time. But for me, mindreading is like a magazine. I can just skip the stuff I don't want to read. Or the people. Life was going pretty good for me, until one day I was shopping, and I happened into a store and the most bizarre thing happened; the mannequins had thought bubbles. They were like other people's thought bubbles, too. Mostly sex, a lot of worries, the odd depressed one. It was uncanny.\n\nSo this was the first time I thought that I might actually be crazy. Thing is, I've been to clothing stores before and never seen this. So what am I to think? That suddenly my powers have now come to include inanimate objects? I played around with it in the next week. I looked at little kids' dolls, went to a wig shop with just mannequin heads, but nothing would do it except a full-grown mannequin. This is where I started to wonder, is something wrong with me? I didn't feel crazy, but I knew if I went to any doctor to ask them about this they'd think I was psychotic. Even if I was, it's a pretty harmless psychosis, right? I've never hurt anyone because of this. I did a bit more experimenting and figured out some other weird things: I've never seen my own thoughts - not even in the mirror - and I don't see the thoughts when people are on TV. I always thought this was because it was a recording, and the thoughts dissipated or couldn't be captured on film; but could it be something else?\n\nSo I went to a doctor. I tried to stay really vague. I told her that I was seeing visual spots and stuff over people's heads. She asked me what kind of \"stuff,\" and I just said blackish spots. I told her that I started seeing them even over mannequins. She put me through a bunch of tests, and it turns out I have an inoperable brain tumour that's been pressing on my temporal lobe and gyrus. It's a ticking time bomb in my head, and we don't know when it will go off.\n\nI'm taking the news fairly good, I think. I've lived a pretty full life. I've had great sex with some really sweet, intelligent people, a lot of whom I'm still friends with. I've got a great support network, because I've always been supportive of my family and friends. They say I'm really forgiving - but I just always knew that they were being mean because they were sad or worried. I did really well in school and work, because I could see what instructors and bosses were getting at, what they wanted, and I'd do it. Maybe the whole time I was just seeing my own intuitions. Humans are empathic creatures and can guess quite a bit of what we're thinking, even if we don't have super-powers. Maybe seeing it externalized just gave me the confidence to act on it.\n\nMaybe I'll right a book, *Seeing is Believing* or something less corny. I think everyone should know that if they give people the benefit of the doubt and act on their intuitions, and act with kindness and compassion, that everything can work out for them. Just don't ever doubt that the people around you are just trying to do their best, and that they're never really thinking about hurting you. We're all just trying to have sex, find love, and be appreciated."
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[WP] The Illuminati is 100% real. Turns out it was a prank that got ridiculously out of hand.
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"President Donald Trump and former President Barack Obama were sitting in Oval Office. Each were having a glass of brandy. It had been a while since they had last sat down and spoke with each other, but Trump figured he would call his old friend to have a few drinks. Their conversation was not over anything significant. Well, significant may not be the correct word. More like... important.\n\n\"So, did you pick up Tupac's new album?\" Donald asked.\n\n\"Not yet. I was going to head out to headquarters and pick it up from him later this week. Is it any good?\" Barack responded with curiosity.\n\n\"His last one was better, but it isn't too bad. He's starting to lose his edge in his age. We might have to put him under soon and have him come back in a few decades.\" Trump said in a somber tone. \"Speaking of which, are you going to Walt's unfreezing in a few weeks?\"\n\n\"Absolutely. I will definitely be there. I can't wait to meet him. He always seemed like such a nice guy. A lot like you if everything I read about him is right.\" Obama said as he went to grab the bottle of brandy to pour himself some more. The current President's phone rung and he pulled it from his pocket to check it, but it had no message. Then he pulled a second phone out and began chuckling. Obama was waiting to hear what it was about.\n\n\"It's Putin. He said Kim just sent him some picture of a ton of people panicking over us saying we have a nuke buttons and aren't afraid to press them. As if we would really do that. Ha!\" The golden god laughed. The former president joined him in his glee.\n\n\"I wonder if we really should just come out tell the world that we do exist? Then, I think... nah! It's always a little funny when they see us rocking the boat. Like, I can't believe they still think Osama is dead. I visited him down in undersea home recently. That place is crazy.\" Obama put his hand on his forehead and shook his head.\n\n\"I can't believe you went down to that undersea orgy palace.\" Donald replied incredulously as he sipped on his drink.\n\n\"I just wanted to see what all the fuss was about. Bill is always telling me about it. Clinton and Cosby.\" Obama added as he saw Donald about to ask which one. Then he asked, \"Who started this joke again? You have been part of this group longer than I have.\"\n\n\"Well, it spun off of the Free Mason's, but I think it was John D. Rockefeller and Bob Marley who started this whole Illuminati business.\" Donald answered. He looked down at his watch. \"I think I better head on to bed. You can just let yourself out.\"\n\n\"Alright. I'm gonna head down to Hawaii and issue a fake missile threat tomorrow.\" Barack said as he stood up and stretched.\n\n\"Haha. You do you man.\" Trump said as the two presidents gave each other a hug and pat on the back as they left the office.\n\n\n(Sorry if the characters don't sound correct)"
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[WP] In hindsight, the chosen hero seemed a little too eager to go around slaughtering monsters.
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"They've finally recognized me for what I am; a hero. I walk past onlookers and hear them murmur, \"Did you see how he tore that monsters head off with his bare hands?!\", I turn on the TV and see them replaying footage of that ghoul whose leg I chopped off and beat him to death with. The capturing of this moment was ruined however by being filmed vertically by that dumbass onlooker. I get phone calls from top Hollywood executives about a bio movie but I still can't decide who would be good enough to play me.\n\nBefore the monster uprising I was just as amazing however, the only difference now is the recognition I get for it. Respect and Recognition I should have been receiving before the events transpired. Brett, the jock who called me a faggot just two months ago rushed up to me for a selfie the other day. I wonder if he remembers that time he called me a faggot, I didn't smile in the selfie just to get back at him a little. \n\nMy parents, whose divorce ruined my childhood, go around telling people how proud they are of me. I talk to each of them and tell them that they are not allowed to brag about my accomplishments. I hate seeing them happy. The only paternal voice I heard that night was that of God himself who told me to go fourth with my weapons and kill those monsters.\n\nI have sex with an average of 2 to 3 women a night at my mansion, much more sex than anyone in high school had. I remember when girls wouldn't even look at me. Why did it take me slaughtering a monster uprising before they finally noticed me? I ask Brandi one night, the blonde who never spoke to me when we sat next to each other in science class, \"why didn't you show interest in me before?\", she looks up smiling \"you used to be so weird and quiet\". I'm hurt. She's hurt me. I reach for my battle axe, the one I used to decapitate the king of Monsters himself, and begin slashing Brandi to pieces. \n\nI meet another dumb jock the next day who wants a selfie, I tell him to go fuck himself. Fuck everyone, I saved the whole human race and all they want is a selfie, how about some praise? Monsters showed up to our town, I was the only one with the equipment, weapons and a deep understanding of militaristic strategies to ensure they were all killed before anyone was hurt. I put my life on the line and all you want is a selfie? I don't give a shit about the medals, the documentaries, I want what I always wanted, so I killed the dumb Jock with a Katana sword. \n\n--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------\n\nThey made a bio movie about me alright, but they got it all wrong. First off I killed 8 monsters, not 6 as the movie shows. Secondly, the actor they got to portray me is nowhere near as good looking as me and finally they portray the third act of the movie as me going on a murderous rampage because I had PTSD, which is not true at all. I know why I killed those people, because they deserved it. They've locked me up because they still can't appreciate how special I am. I was the chosen one, I killed those monsters, no one else could have done it but me and this is the thanks I get from humanity..",
"Ra-zen. Long ago called the land of jewels for the gemstones found abundantly beneath it. It had been a land of riches, raising up generations of talented craftsmen to carve up the earth's bounty into works of splendor, setting them within frames of most precious metal. At the center of this land was a city that looked like a painting in all its beauty, and in the center of that city a great palace bespeckled by gems, and within the center of that palace the coveted Throne of Rubies. It is said that kings and soon to be kings fought over that throne like clockwork, one replacing the next in an endless cycle while the jewelsmiths and miners simply went about their daily lives as usual. Until one day they say the current king, a young man by the name of Ers, attempted to woo the Witchqueen of the Wastes, and insulting her when she refused him was cursed by a plague of beasts. The creatures proceeded to ravage the land, forcing out the normal animals that had once occupied the same place, preventing the people of Ra-zen from trading their jewels and importing food causing famine. The king, humbled now, begged the Witchqueen to lift her curse, but she instead answered him only with death leaving the land of Ra-zen both infested and ungoverned. In this chaos the people pleaded for a hero, and were only too quick to accept the first person who proved capable. We now know him as the Soul King, he who rules this wasteland which no longer has a name with an unbreaking diamond fist; for no one is allowed to enter or leave this land now, and therefore it no longer needs a name. \nIn retrospect we shouldn't have trusted the hero who seemed to slaughter the monsters with glee, but we did not know at the time that he devoured their very souls as he did so. In his gluttony for power he killed every last one, and with no normal beasts to take their place in the delicate balance of nature the once beautiful land of Ra-zen withered and died. So with no more monsters to eat, in his gluttony for power he instead took the unoccupied Ruby Throne and declared himself the Soul King ruler of Ra-zen.\n",
"Desperate times call for desperate measures, or so the saying goes, and this was certainly a desperate measure. The village of Cragpoint was situated at the foot of Spear Mountain, an isolated village of fifty people, they made their livelihood goat herding and farming what they could on the rocky soil. Life was tough and was about to get tougher.\n\nAbout a week ago they attacked, monsters, shaped like men but far more beast than man. Red glowing eyes framed by a face of dark grey scales, this scale covered their entire body, large hands ending in claws, sharp as a scythe. They walked upright but when running they took to all fours, a horse could outrun them, but not outlast them. \n\nThe night they attacked most of the community was gathered in the local inn when shouts from outside roused them.\n\n\"Look, the mountain,\" Tral the miller shouted.\n\nGlowing red lights dotted the mountainside. People spilled out the inn to look and soon most of the village was engrossed by this sight, murmuring amongst themselves. Suddenly a shriek echoed from the mountain and the lights started moving. The red lights were like wildfire, quickly zigzagging down the mountain, people screamed as they ran, the primal shrieks following them.\n\nPoor Eltar was the first to die, stumbling away, slowed from all the mead, the first creature knocked him down and attacked with those wicked claws, it gouged a hole in his chest, cutting through flesh, bone, and sinew, so big his spine could be seen illuminated in the moonlight. Three more died that night before they returned to the mountain.\n\nA runner was sent to the city to ask for an audience with the commander of the guard but they would not send men, not with the war, especially since they were wanted for what the city's commander called \"superstitious peasant nightmares.\" \n\nBut our messenger did not come back alone, he returned with one man. A powerful barrel chested man who carried a large greatsword. Soon the mayor heard the commotion and met them. After a hushed discussion the mayor addressed the quickly growing crowd.\n\n\"This man claims he can defeat the monsters that plague us, I realize he is only one man but it's all we've got.\" People muttered angrily, one shouted out, \"what fucking use will he be, these creatures have torn people limb from limb, he's-\n\n\"Silence,\" boomed the man. He walked towards the crowd, I am the greatest warrior this land had ever seen,\" a mad grin plastered across his face, \"I will defeat these creatures then we will discuss payment, now go indoors, night will soon be upon us.\"\n\nNight came and those familiar and terrible shrieks followed, this time however cries of pain and fury rang out too, then suddenly stopped....... \"Open the inn, I need something to drink,\" the warrior shouted.\n\nSlowly the bolt of the inn rattled open, it's inhabitants shaking, waiting for the worst. The warrior was there, a mad gleam in his eye, face and clothes covered in crimson gore, \"here are the monsters,\" he said as he threw a large grain sack onto the floor, dripping with blood. \n\nThe innkeeper swallowed and with shaking hands, slowly opened the sack, five heads were inside, eyes once glowing red were now hollow and dull.\n\n \"It's been a while since i've had a good scrap like that, now lets discuss payment,\" he said, a twisted smile on his lips. \n\n\"How much gold do you want,\" inquired the innkeeper.\"\n\nThe warrior threw back his head and laughed a booming laugh, then snapped his head forward, a sinister smile on his lips. He drew his sword and said, \"i'l take my payment in blood.\"\n\n \n\n\n\n",
"\"Look, I'm not saying he is fit for the job, *but seriously, have you been round to his house?*\"\n\n\"Come on Jacob, stop being hero-phobic, what is wrong with his house, does he not have a bed and go around being fuelled by energy from the monsters he kills?\" inquired the town mayor, lazily lying on the grass.\n\nOr atleast \"the mayor\" - The \"town\" aspect was up for debate.\n\nThe local council wasn't really sure that 3 run down hovels, a giant fire and a mansion qualified as a town, half the damn doors had been locked, and the keys scattered across the continent.\n\nThe \"towns\" folk would call a locksmith, but the locksmith had his tools trapped inside his own house, and damaging derelict property is a crime, according to the mayor - Or maybe according to the coffers.\n\nJacob's temper slowly rose, and receeded, although you could see his face was wraught with anger.\n\n\"I understand he helps keep the monsters away from us, but ever since he got the key to that mansion, he strutted around like he owned the place, the god damn ghosts that live in it don't even bother him\"\n\n\"Feared monster hunter, what can ya do\" - \"You should be thankful, that haunting was bringing down the value of the neighbourhood\" \n\nJacob was at loss for words, how could one be possibly so dense, there isn't even a road, nobody bloody wanted to buy this ramshackle village, there wasn't even any form of resource nearby that a company would swoop it up, the value of the neighbourhood is rock bottom.\n\n\"I'd bring out the chart to illustrate why that statement is the stupidest thing I've ever heard, but as you may know we don't have the money to buy a chart, never mind a stand for a chart\"\n\nThe mayor flung himself upwards in an overly dramatic style, awaiting for applause with arms outstretched, but none came, much to his disappointment.\n\n\"Rightyo buckyo, what seems to be the problem with this hero, he makes our lives far easier\"\n\nJacob sighed, and began chapter one of his self titled and self published book: 'Why are we letting a murderous psychopath live rent free and not provide any economic benefits to us or giving a single positive contribution to the general lively hood of our village'\n\n\"It is a working title, and without further adooooooooo, here we go\" \n\n\"First point: He has furniture made out of monster skeletons, vertebrate and skin - Not the actions of someone well adjusted\"\n\n\"Second point: He doesn't have a bed, you might be onto something by saying he is fuelled by murder - There are giant bird creatures, he hardly doesn't have feathers to use\"\n\n\"Third point: Have you seen him fight? He has made armour out of bones, not even good armour, or a helmet, who doesn't wear a helmet, or maybe he has too much brain trauma for that to matter\"\n\n\"Fourth point: He threw himself off the cliff three times yesterday, before appearing right next back to the big fire, each single time - He could go psycho on us at any moment, and we can't stop him\"\n\n\"Fifth point: He tried killing our pigs, but they slaughtered him - And you guessed it, he popped right back next to the fire - *Author's note - Why do we have murderous pigs that we can't even use for food purposes\"*\n\nAnd on Jacob went for 3 days and 3 nights, for the mayor to say:\n\n\"I see\"\n\n\n\n"
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[WP] The love of your life crosses your way but you look on your smartphone
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"My black shoes walk across a white pavement as I stare at my phone. My mind is on autopilot as I make my way through my daily motions of checking my news feed - reddit, facebook, Instagram. Does it truly matter if Jonathan went to Big Bear and posted a shot of the sun reflecting off his ski’s? I can’t answer that question since my mind’s occupied watching the latest cat video on my screen.\n\nMonotonous. Some would define it as routine, as discipline – but at the end of the day, it’s providing me with the news and information that I can let everyone know at the water cooler in a few hours, wearing my smug expression on my face, speaking with the resounding wisdom of one who receives his news from unsourced articles online.\n\nBut just for a moment, perhaps it wasn’t meant to be the same routine. That whiff of perfume is oddly new, and those red shoes I see in front of me are captivating my eyes in a way that Jonathan’s Instagram post could never hope to achieve. Just maybe I could –\n\n**thud**\n\n “Oh, excuse me!”\n\nA voice trails away. I look back but she’s already swamped by the crowd. Gone. And so I turn, too. Back to the routine. Step forward. Dodge the puddle. Get on the train. \n\nMonotonous.\n\n----\n\nMy red shoes walk across a white pavement as I stare at my phone.\n\n\n(First time posting on r/WritingPrompts, please let me know your feedback - anything helps!)"
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[WP] my name is Nobody, and I know all of the things that nobody knows.
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"“Mr. President... Mr. President you need to make a decision.”\n\n“Keep quiet Carl, I’m thinking! Just give me a moment.”\n\n“There are some questions that Nobody can answer, Mr. President.”\n\n“Dammit Carl! I’ve told you once before and I’ll tell you again. I can figure this out. By my self.”\n\n“Yes, yes I’m sure you can... but wouldn’t it be faster to just call him?”\n\n“No. We don’t need to call him this time, we are fully capable without his help. Anyways; it’s good to stretch the brain every so often.”\n\n“Mr. President... you’ve been stretching your brain for two and a half hours. Really, we have a schedule to keep.”\n\n“Carl! You persistent little bugger! Will you shut up if I just give him a quick call?”\n\n“Yes I think that’s a good idea sir.”\n\n“Fine! What’s his number?”\n\n“He’s been programmed to quick dial two sir. One was taken by the tanning salon.”\n\n...\n\n..\n\n.\n\n“Hello Mr. Nobody this is the president calling again!”\n\n“I know.”\n\n“Ah, yes of course you know! You know everything, how silly of me!”\n\n“... I also have caller alert... What do you want this time?”\n\n“So over at the White House we have been working on a dilemma for a little while, and we could use some help.”\n\n“Shoot, Donald. But the cat ate it.”\n\n“How did you know I [lost my toupee?](https://m.imgur.com/gallery/Fkbfa5O)”"
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[WP] A loud boom and flash of light are being reported throughout Detroit. It is written off as a meteor, but you know the truth. Prisoner 626 has just landed on earth.
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"I gasped, sucking in air loudly while cluching my chest. \"OH.. NO!\" \n\n\"What!?\" Tyler shrieked back, arms waving and legs bouncing like a sping on a hinge as he kneeled on the bed. \n\n\"I'm..\" I took a step forward, still clutching my heart. \n\n\"Suddenly..\" I took another step forward, lurching towards the bed, teetering on the edge of falling. \n\n\"SLEEEEEPY!!!\" I yelled, causing myself to fall over on top of the kid, bed, and mess of comforters. \n\nTyler excitedly yelped in response, giggling while trying repeatedly to shove me off as I fake-snored as loud as humanly possible. \"Get.. Off! YOU ARE SO WEIRD, YOU CAN'T SLEEP HERE DAD!\" \n\n*ZZZZzzzz... ZZZZZZzzzz...*\n\nAs father and son continued to go about their bedtime ritual, miles away, a green flash of light split the cloud cover and streaked towards the ground. \n\nA small rumble shook the house a few minutes later, but everyone was in bed and too tired to notice. \n\n------------------------------------\n\n**7:00am, the next day**\n\nCupping my left hand around the side of my mouth to enhance the volume, I yelled across the house \"Hon.. have you seen my left boot? I can't find it anywhere.\" \n\nKathleen rounded the corner not a moment later, dressed to the nines with a right red heel in her hand. \"I was about to ask you the same thing! Maybe.. maybe we left them in the car after date night on Friday?\" she finished, with a wink and a smirk. \n\nI couldn't help but smirk back. \"Yeah, that's probably it. We'll check the garage on the way out.\" \n\nI turned, grabbing the remote off my nightstand to quiet the talking heads blathering in the background. \"Tyler, are you ready yet?\" I added, half-yelling, while my fingers instinctively searched for the power button. \n\nAs my finger laid on the button, I stopped, noticing the headline.\n\n\nThe TV bellowed: \"Amazingly this morning, in the greater metro area, we have a new record of 87 simultaneous vehicular accidents as of 6:57am, and the reports seem to keep coming in.\" \n\n\nI couldn't help but audibly react. \"Wow! Kathleen, did you se-\" \n\nA low rumble coupled with the ground shaking back and forth, like a minor earthquake, interrupted my speech. \n\nAs soon as the movement stopped, we traded looks and immediately, wordlessly, ran down the stairs and walked in tandem to the front door. \n\nI opened the door and we stepped out on to the front porch. Looking up and down the street, all of my neighbors had done the same, standing in similar positions on their front stoops. As we collectively looked to the right, a shadow crept from our feet and slowly climbed it's way eastward - meaning something was behind us, something huge. \n\nI turned, slowly, looking up towards the sky to identify what cast such an ominous shadow - A wall of sewage, 150 feet high. We stood, temporarily dumbfounded by the sight. By the time we turned towards the door to rush back inside, the wave came crashing down around us, and everything went black. \n\n...\n\n...\n\n\n**Edit:** Minor spelling errors and formatting changes. ",
"“A meteor”, they said. “Definitely.”\n\nA likely story. I knew the telltale signs of a bad hyperspace exit. This could only mean one thing. Prisoner 626 had escaped the Intergalactic Police, and was now on Earth.\n\nI had to stop him.\n\nIt would be a tricky capture. 626 possessed incredible senses of smell and hearing, as well as infrared vision, making him remarkably difficult to sneak up on. On the other hand, his strength and durability left me a poor match in a straight up fight. Fortunately, I knew a weakness: 626 was hydrophobic. With the beginnings of a plan forming, I started my car and headed north, towards where the light had been seen.\n\nIt wasn’t long before I saw what I assumed to be 626’s work. The road ahead was blocked with a traffic accident, one car flipped onto its roof. A man was trapped, half out of the driver’s window, pinned by the partly crumpled car on top of him. Other passersby had stopped to help out, with little effect.\n\nI didn’t pay them much mind. My focus was on recapturing 626. I would need my wits about me.\n\nSomething drew my attention back to the accident. A man in his fifties was helping now, putting his shoulder to the car and bracing with all his might. Incredibly, the car rocked back, and the others helped the trapped driver to safety.\n\nCould this be true? I didn’t believe what I saw, for a man of his age to be as strong as he was. But a memory stirred. He made me think of a man from years ago.\n\nI threw my super soaker away. It would be useless now. It was not Prisoner 626 that had escaped today. It was Prisoner 24601 - Jean Valjean.\n\nI wonder if he had forgotten my name?",
"BOOM CRASH! A meteor crashes down right in front of me though I knew this wasn't a meteor. This was the galatic prisoner 626. He was going missing from his cell and soon after a bounty for his head dead or alive was put out. 1,000,000 credits to be exact. That plus the money I had would be enough to buy my sister and girlfriend out of slavery from death himself. I walk up to the ditch while the prisoner was still recovering. \n\"Any last words\" I garble at him though my communicatory device\n\"Yeah.\" He says getting up and looking at me \"your dead\" \nHe then spits fire at me. I expected this though and put on a fire proof suit. I wait for him to finish before stepping forwards and pulling out a military grade stun baton. I flick the switch to submit, an added module which makes even a bahemoth lock up, and poke him with it. The shock that comes from it is enough to send him fling back and knock out. I walk over picking him up and carrying him to my ship. I fly out to the galatic super prison and bring him in.\n\"Hello sir. What can I help you with\" the attendant said\n\"I came to collect the bounty on prisoner 626.\" I respond dropping his unconscious body on the table\nShe gasps at the sight and nods hesitantly saying \"right this way\"",
"I watched him circumnavigate our planet many times before this. I watched as he fell down from space after going around once more. Prisoner 626 had flown into a magnetic field that would allow you to go to another world far from here. Little did I know that if you hit that magnetic in the wrong place you lose everything. Earthlings thought it was a meteor and others thought it was the NSA. But, I knew exactly what it was and where it landed. I saw him before but I knew what had to be done. As he put up a tough fight, I knew how to beat him on alien soil. After all, I created him. On his way to the ground again after I struck him, we both fell together. In that moment I took off his face mask and I saw in his reflector shield myself looking back at me and seeing the last breath leave our bodies and within an instant we were both gone. "
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[WP]You're a double agent with two aliases from different countries. You're assigned by each country to kill your alias on the opposite site
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"This is it. This is the way out. This charade had started as way to squeeze some money out of both sides. Make a mission fail blame it on the other side and walk away with the gear and sell it on the side. Some time trade tid bits nothing too important keep myself important but not under too much scrutiny. I've come away with a fortune but there was never a chance to get away when I wasn't working for one party I was traveling for the other side. 7 years of this constant stress and I've turned into a retch. I've gone gray before my years and the bags under my eyes that just don't go away. But when both sides think their man is dead they'll never think to look for me and I'll be free and clear. No more paper work, no more meetings. Just a quite life far from anywhere important. \n\n\nBut how to do it.... \n\n\nIf I leak a little information make a little splash I could say that one was planning to kill the other and lay a trap for myself. Man this is going to get confusing. Set it up in another country somewhere neither country has much of a pressence making it hard for both sides to figure out went 'wrong' with the operation. This is going to be long nights for the next few weeks planning the three operations, one trap, one attack and one secret escape plan. \n",
"\"I'm getting too old for this shit. I cannot BELIEVE this happened again.\" \n\nSeven years ago, \"James Patton\" had rising star in the US intelligence community, with ten years of accomplishments under his belt. Meanwhile, \"Crazy Ivan\" had had a similar string of accomplishments in his nine years working for Russia. Disguises, both of them, for a man whose real name didn't really matter. But that wasn't the point. \n\nLast time, he'd taken a long time to think about how to deal with the situation. He couldn't let either of his personas \"fail\" as it would completely ruin his enjoyment of them. And losing either of them would cost him access to the information that allowed the other to succeed so spectacularly. \n\nAnd so, he'd done the only thing that made sense at the time. He abandoned both personas. He left a charred corpse in Patton's home, as was Ivan's signature. And he left a body double of Ivan in an alleyway near his office in Russia, shot with the pistol that Patton had always used. And then he himself disappeared for four years.\n\nHe'd gotten plastic surgery, new disguises, and worked on his accents. He could have just kept to himself, he had the money for a long, comfortable life. But he did so miss the game.\n\nAnd so, two years ago, \"Alexander DeGrey\" had begun to climb the ranks of British intelligence. And his counterpart \"Yi Il\" quickly became a rising star in China. And for the second time in under a decade, his well-connected aliases were directly in one another's crosshairs. \n\nHe could probably make a similar show to remove both aliases, but... no. Instead, he booked two adjacent hotel rooms under his aliases names and opened the doors connecting them. Between them, he left DeGrey's signature garotte wire wrapped around the handle of Yi's knife. A neat little mystery for both sides.\n\n\"If this happens a third time, I may just give both sides what they wanted.\"\n"
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[WP] "Welcome to GDQ, this is my speedrun of Life, No Glitch and Til Death." The (un)expectant mother looks worried. Then she feels a kick.
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"Alright, So this is my speed run of life any percent. So as you can see we have just been born. This segment is pretty slow, you can't really do anything to speed it up and the cut scene isn't skip-able, so feel free to read donations.\n\nWe have a donation from xaxxor69 saying \"Long time watcher first time donator, love the stream and let's kill some animals.\"\nThanks xaxxor69 for the donations.\n\nAlright so after we are born we are put into the crib, it is important that we spend the entire night sleeping face down and... there we go, we got the bad ending. Thanks for watching my speed run of life. Don't forget to donate to kill the animals.",
"######**Speedrunner**\n\nJake was fast, lemme tell you. Once, I watched Jake offer to buy a kid lunch just to get cuts in the cafeteria for a week. That was one month before he graduated the fourth grade. By December, Jake was acing seventh grade history exams. He finished high school before the next Thanksgiving.\n\nEverything about Jake was just... sped up. He learned faster, grew faster, talked faster, walked faster—even shat faster. This little kid that I met in Mrs. Jensen's fourth grade class had had his second divorce and his first gray hair by the time I was a freshman in college (from what I heard, he doesn't have the greatest stamina in bed).\n\nJake was a swindler. I don't think he has ever flown without a ticket that cost him more than 20% the normal price. His mortgage was being paid off monthly by his grandmother, who could've sworn that her late husband had finished paying the damn thing off twenty years before. Jake sold drugs for six months, then sold his car and poured all of his cash into a single stock; it paid out. Big time. He bought a production company as a New Year's gift to himself two weeks later. Remember that stupid film about an Australian heist-gone-wrong that everyone was talking about nonstop five years ago? Yeah. Guess who raked in the box office earnings on that one.\n\nIn the span of a decade, Jake managed to graduate the fourth grade, become a multibillionaire, get elected president, make peace with Brazil, resign, and prevent the first homicide on Mars. He got 'em, tiger.\n\nAnd I know we are here today to mourn his death—and celebrate his life, I know I know—but you wanna know what Jake would've wanted us to be doing right now? He'd tell us to jump down the flight of the stairs leading up to this church because it's more efficient to let gravity do all the work. Jake would want us to eat a pre-packed lunch in a cab heading to the casino, to throw it all on red at exactly 5:32 PM, 27 seconds. He'd want us to tip someone $100 to cash in the chips while he met with an investor upstairs that wanted to put a couple million into one of our many business ventures.\n\nJake didn't win the lottery... no, actually, he did. Twice. But what I'm trying to say is that Jake didn't lead such an incredibly impactful life because he was just so lucky all the time. I think he knew what he was doing the whole way through. Every step he took was calculated, every breath timed perfectly and every word practiced a thousand times in his head.\n\nNone of us will be Jake. He lived a life at a pace no one will ever be able to match. But he did just that—live a life. Just because he was able to amass a three-comma fortune and touch the lives of people all over the world, that doesn't mean we should be disappointed or regretful that we didn't or couldn't. Live your life and enjoy it. Think about your actions, and then do them. *Don't second guess yourself.*\n\nJump down those staircases. Wear those Velcro shoes. Buy a racecar bed that actually drives. It's what Jake would have wanted. And don't forget to look up and nod at Jake.\n\nCause Jake was the fastest there ever was.\n\n_____\n\nThanks for reading. I have more responses on [my personal sub](/r/ScottBeckman)."
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[WP] A huge comet is rushing to Earth, nobody knows but space agencies and a few political leaders, you are humanity's last chance, the one assigned to go on a suicidal mission aboard a spaceship capable of destroying it, but you're going to die alone in space, without ever your story being told.
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"In my dreams of being an astronaut, I pictured myself landing on Mars, jumping through zero gravity, and returning to Earth a hero. Paparazzi filled my day dreams and microphones were thrust in front of me. I would play off whatever I did – discovering a new element, making first contact with aliens – it didn’t matter, I would tell them. It’s all just part of the job. \nWith each passing year at NASA, my heroic day dreams became more elaborate. I was not only contacting aliens, but negotiating with them, learning their language. I was settling the first colony on mars with a group of brave explorers. \n\nI was never blowing up comets the size of Russia, but 30 minutes ago Mission Control called. \n\nThey said that NASA has known for a while the comet was on its way and the size of it was too astronomical for anything to be done. An executive decision was made to keep the discovery a secret, so that the last few days of Earth are not filled with riots. However, one of the scientists made a discovery – the amount of force required to throw the comet off its track is roughly equal to the amount of force generated by a collision with the ISS. \n\nA suicide mission was never in my dreams. Aside from the loss of scientific opportunity and data aboard the ISS, I would lose my life – making it pretty much impossible to be welcomed back a hero. I wish I could say I’m on board with this, but the honest truth is that I’m not. Mission Control can override the ISS navigation system in the event I am unwilling to comply. So here I am, on a collision course with a comet the size of Russia, about to become the savoir of humanity, except Mission Control made one thing clear before they cut transmissions:\n\nAs far as the public is concerned, a rogue astronaut overrode the navigation system on the ISS, sending it on a collision course with a nearby comet, resulting in significant monetary and scientific loss. \n\nI will be remembered as a traitor. \n",
"\"It's lonely, this high above the Earth.\"\n\nIt's hard to tell whether I'm thinking or speaking, these days. Alone inside the shuttle, it's just me and the electronics for days at a time. A burst of static in my ear lets me know I spoke aloud.\n\"What was that, Commander?\"\n\n\"Nothing, Ground Control. Thinking out loud.\"\n\nI can faintly hear the sounds of the control room, letting me know the operator hasn't yet disconnected. He doesn't speak for a long time, the two of us sitting in silence from literal worlds apart. It's pleasant, in some strange way. Familiar.\n\nI look down at the Earth again, think about everything that I'm leaving behind. \n\"It's nice, to see everyone you love in the one place.\"\n\nI hear the operator exhale sharply, but it takes him a moment to reply.\n\"Well they're all waiting for you back down here, Jay. You're gonna be a hero.\"\n\nHis voice is soft, but I recognize the Southern twang. It's Charles' voice. I helped to train him just a couple of years ago.\n\nI lean back in my seat, the Earth suddenly too much to look at. I brush at something on my cheek, and realise my face is wet. I don't know how long I've been crying.\n\n*A hero.*\n\nI haven't told them that I know. I don't want to hear them confirm it.\n\nI’d dreamed of being an astronaut since before I could spell it. Always wanted to be able to write my name among the stars, to be remembered forever alongside my heroes. \n\nI know there won’t be any kids hearing my story, though. They’d told me that much. Not even my wife knew where I was, and I could count the people that did on a single hand.\n\n\"Commander, you're coming up on the target.\"\nCharles speaks again, trying hard to stay professional, judging by the sound of his voice.\n\n\"Roger that, Ground Control. Getting into position.\"\n\nIt's the first time since launch that I've had to manually steer the ship. I grip the controls with surprisingly steady hands. I'm close to comet, now, just me between it and the Earth. I'm to fire the missiles when I'm as close as physically possible. It won't be much longer.\n\n\"Hey, Charles? Do you think they'll throw me a parade, like the old days?\"\n\nI can hear the shake in his voice as he replies.\n\"Yeah, Jay. Biggest parade you've ever seen. People are gonna be chanting your name around the world.\"\n\nHe continues to talk, describing the welcome back I'm gonna get on Earth. I close my eyes and just listen, try to picture it. \n\nI press the button.\n\nI don't see it, but for a second, the view outside my window swaps from black space to bright, bright white.\n\nAnd then,\n\nNothing."
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[WP] You and your main character disagree on who should tell the story and how the story should end.
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"Have you ever had an argument with yourself? I’m sure everyone has, at one point or another. But have you ever had an argument with your main character?\nIt’s considerably more difficult than a disagreement with yourself. \n\n“That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever read. There’s no way I’m letting you write that about me!” Max exclaimed, reading over my shoulder. I looked up in annoyance, the *click clack* of computer keys pausing as I turned my attention to the angry heroine. “You can’t exactly stop me, you know. I’m your Author.”\n“Well, *I’m* your Hero, and this is bullshit!” She snapped, spinning on her heel as she launched into yet another rant. This would be the third one today...\n\n“Heroes are not supposed to become the bad guy at the end. And they are not supposed to go crazy! I don’t want to go crazy, I like myself just the way I am thank you. And I like being on, you know, the GOOD GUYS’ side!”\n\n“Well, haven’t you ever heard that saying? You die a hero or live long enough to see yourself become the villain? Besides! It’s a great plot twist, and really drives home that while fighting-the-inner-darkness undertones I’ve added to your story since the beginning.” I pointed out, sighing. \n\n“I’m just saying, just because my dad is evil and my uncle is evil and my twin sister is evil- that’s all been done before, by the way- that does not mean *I* gotta be evil.” Max crossed her arms, sitting down heavily in a recliner and kicking back her feet. \n\n“I’m sorry, Max, but that’s how the story goes. And I’ll have you know that cliches are cliche for a reason- they’re good.” The last part was partially mumbled, a grumpy defense for an often heard argument. \n\n“Then why don’t I take over the story, then? It’s mine, after all. It’s due for a few changes, anyway, your writing sucks.” My heroine was an arrogant little asshole, always had been. I didn’t usually mind... until it was focused on me. \n\n“Oh no, no way. Last time I let you control I, you change the god of Death to a fucking panda! A *panda*, Max. His battlecry is literally just screaming ‘Bamboooooo!’.” She snickered at that. “Yeah, and its fuckin’ hilarious, too. Still though, I did make the origin story make sense.” I had to concede that point; she had made his creation myth plausible. “Yeah, but making a deal to give him Bambi in exchange for coming back to life is kinda... cheap, though. I mean, it feels like it’s just an easy fix to a plot hole.”\n\nMax shrugged. “Most of my plans are basically cheap fixes to plot holes. I kinda just roll with it.” Sighing once again, I return my attention to the final book in Max’s series. “This conversation has been pointless, and I’m not changing anything.” Don’t let you characters write their stories. That’s how you end up with cliche evil twin sisters and Pandas of Death. ",
"It was a rainy overcast Thursday and up and down the street cars sped by, unawares of the true nature of today. Michael was just waking up and-\n\n*actually I've been awake for about forty minutes, just watching some porn and surfing facebook*\n\nAHEM! Michael was just waking up to the drumming sound of raindrops. As his feet hit the soft shag carpet and he raised his arms to stretch-\n\n*scratch my balls you mean*\n\nTO STRETCH he looked around and noticed something a bit off about today. \n\n*more like jumped out of my skin and almost shit a brick right there on that shag floor*\n\n....\n\nThere was a grey film around everything he looked at, like he hadn't quit shaken the sleep from his eyes, couldn't quit focus in on things\n\n*fuck was fuzzy and twisted ya unbelievable twig, tell it right!*\n\nCAN YOU JUST NOT? How am I supposed to fucking tell the story about the fourth fucking dimension when you keep interjecting with your tone! Ugh. I'm so done. I'm way too good for this shit anyway, ive done Broadway! \n\nEdit: formatting "
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[WP] Reincarnation exists. Once you die you are reborn as an animal with all the memories and knowledge from your previous life, but you are unable to ever learn anything new.
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"I am John Owen, I think to myself as I sit outside my home. I try to lick my paw involuntarily before I stop myself. I am not a cat. I am John Owen. I am 5’10”, brown haired, and...\n\nWhat color were my eyes? Have I already forgotten? I try to remember, to match green, blue, and brown to what I recall of my face, but it is no use. I can never learn again, never remember. All I have left to me is to forget.\n\nI look to the address on my home. 123 Terrace Drive. 123 Terrace Drive. 123 Terrace Drive. I repeat the words to myself, praying they will stick, yet I feel the thoughts slipping from my mind even before I think them.\n\nI turn my gaze to the door of my house. I need to wait. Janet leaves for work eventually. Has she already left? It doesn’t matter, I can’t risk leaving. I feel hunger gnawing at my stomach, feel my instincts pushing me to leave, to hunt, but I have to stay. \n\nI need to see Janet again. I need to remember her face. God, I would give anything to remember her face again.\n\nI am John O-. \n\nO?\n\nI am John, I think to myself as I sit outside my home."
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[WP] You see a very strange dream, one that you're sure can't be real. In the dream, you take out your phone and take a picture. After waking up, remembering the dream pretty well, you check your phone and see the photo you've taken in your dream.
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"It’s noon. \n\nI’m at work. I sneak out the back. I go to the coffee shop a few blocks away as I don’t want to bump into people I know. \n\nIt’s 12:15. \n\nI’m sitting in a dark corner in the back. I’m starting to suspect the sleeping pills I take before bed are making me hallucinate. I wake up several times a night and see the same pill on the side of the bed. No matter how many times I sit up, put the pill in my mouth, and down my glass of water, I’ll wake up seemingly moments later to play out the same scenario over and over again. A pill, a full glass of water. \n\nI start to comb over the pictures in my phone. It took a while, but if I truly wanted to get to the bottom of this, then I need to take photos with my phone or at the least dream of the phone being with me if this wasn’t happening. \n\nI’m not sure if it worked but this morning my phone was still resting in my hands as the alarm went off. \n\nI take another sip of my coffee and prepare myself for what may lie ahead. \n\nI proceed to combed over 100s of photos, none of which I remember taking, none more remarkable than the other. An empty nightstand. An empty glass. No pill. \n\nWhen did I have time to take these pics? Did I sleep? \n\nThe pics stretched for far more days then I recalled since I decided to take on this task. Then I saw it. The pill. The water. First it was one picture tucked in a mess of 50 or so, but then they became more frequent. Am I losing my mind? \n\nThen as I near the end of the file I see nothing but what appears to be the same picture. A pill. A full glass of water. Time stamped 20 or so minutes apart. Every few the glass is empty. The pill is gone, but then it’s back The pill. The full glass of water. \n\nWhat time is it? I need to get back to work. \n\nMy anxiety rises. I reach for a pill in my backpack I can’t find one. I’m out. I can feel my sanity slip away. Before I can fully panic, I feel myself waking up. I’m back in my bed. \n\nIt’s 2 am. \n\nThere is a pill on my nightstand. A full glass of water. My heart is beating. I put the pill in my mouth. I down my water. "
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[WP] you have just awakened to your superpowers and have decided to help someone in need but due to a massive misunderstanding you are labeled a villain...
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"\"I was flying. It was my first time. She was falling. I reached out to grab her and well...\" I shrugged - partly because I could tell no one in the courtroom believed me (even though I was telling the truth ); and partly because...well, sometimes indescribable shit happens and you just have to shrug. \n\n\"And well *what*?\" asked the prosecutor, sounding like a cranky, old grandma. Even wore his glasses on the bridge of his nose like one - just so he could peer down at me condescendingly. \"You reached out, saw a beautiful, young lady in need of help, and decided to grab her breasts?\"\n\n\"Uh, nooo. I saw a beautiful, young lady in need of *psychiatric* help, falling off a fifty-story skyscraper that she had just *jumped* off. And I saved her.\"\n\n\"Saved, Mr. Wellington?\" The prosecutor walked over to the jury box and knelt on the rail, pandering to the court. \"Or *groped.*\"\n\n\"Like I *said*...\" I was trying to keep the exasperation in my voice to a bare minimum. On top of that, I had just awakened my laser vision yesterday night, and I was seriously thinking about using the prosecutor's face as target practice right about now. \"...I had only just awakened my powers of flight a day or two before the incident. She's lucky I caught her. I almost missed. She could have been dead. Does *no one* realize that?\"\n\nThe court went silent. My defense attorney, who had been picking his nails the entire time and not even paying attention, looked up in the sudden vaccum and yelled, \"Objection!\", which woke up the judge who had been taking a peaceful nap, and the judge banged his gavel, and shouted, \"Order in the court! Ordered in the court!\"\n\nThe prosecutor smiled, and said, \"That will be all.\"\n\nThe jury deliberated, and when the court had reconvened the judge asked, \"Has the jury reached a decision?\"\n\nThey had. \n\n\"Yes, your honor, we find the defendant, Mark Wellington, guilty of...\" She scanned the lines to make sure they were right, then nodded and lifted her head up to proudly declare, \"...everything.\"\n\n\"I should be giving you the longest sentence that history has ever seen,\" said the judge, \"but since you'll probably break out of any cell we put in, I'm just going to sentence you to parole.\"\n\nI had tried my best to be a hero. But it was clear that society only saw me as a villian. \n\nThen so be it.\n\n\"Hey! Hey! What do you think you're doing! Put me...put me down! Waitwaitwait, don't put me down, don't put me down, don't put me-....Aaaaagh!\"\n\n\n\n\n"
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[WP] Every alien race that has achieved interstellar space travel did it via peace. Every warmongering race has destroyed themselves in the process. All except for one - humans.
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"The humans largest warship, the SS Cheney, landed on planet squib in early 2165. Planet squib is a rather small planet in a distant neighboring solar system of the Milky Way. It is covered in gigantic masses of jungles and Forrest’s that produce high levels of oxygen and therefore, gigantic insects. A species of praying mantis(squibbles) rules this world but after achieving interstellar space travel, they decided to regress back to an advanced form of hunting and gathering. They have no desires to indulge in anything other than reproduction, survival and meditation. Through meditation they can reach a euphoric state that humans could never experience with any drug. The Cheney warship landed on their global day of constant meditation called sansaway. Their mission is to take vast samples of nearly every flora and fauna on planet squib with the hope that these plants could reoxygenate the earths atmosphere. In order for this mission to have feasible benefit, humans will have to take a huge percentage of Squibs agriculture, which could destroy their society and planet. \n\nThe humans began their harvest at the break of the first dawn taking smaller samples to ensure their incubators were still working. By second noon(3pm first sun time) they had almost finished the harvest. Only 70 Squibbles had to be killed when they were snapped out of their euphoric state and tried sounding the inter universal alarm. At 4:55 pm the alarm was sounded, almost instantly hundreds of charter ships appeared in the sky.the largest one lands near the \nSS Cheney and unidentifiable grey masses come out of the ship. As they approach the humans they take the form of whatever the masses are focused on(most of them become humans, some become the now awaking squibbles)The mass that turns into the captain of the human ship exclaims “we have pleaded Time and time again, you are testing our patience earthlings” the actual human captain smirks “well what happens when you test a pacifist society to much?” One of the replicas in the back says “exile” the actual captain retorts “and how do you plan on enforcing that” another voice “treaties.” All of the real humans laughed and the captain playfully shushes before another grey mass says “protective shield will be placed around your solar system for about 1000 years.” All laughing has now ceased. The real captain says “well now I’m gonna have to politely disagree, see I hate doing this cuz you’re so god damn good lookin(directed toward his replicated self), but the survival of my people, my children comes first.” The captain points a heavy duty laser pistol at his replicant shoots it in the face, and both the captain and the replicant collapse in front of each other. Some humans scramble for the captain to find he had been shot in the head while others begin firing at the replicants. As replicants fell so did the humans. \n\nThe humans ceased fire realizing what was happening. The dead replicants stood up still as humans with no injuries. The replicant captain walks up to the humans and sighs “I didn’t want to have to integrate with humans, I wish you would all just kill yourselves, but I suppose that is selfish of me in our quest for peace. Now humans, you can come, and be a part of earth that will now be supervised by the hive mind of diesis, or you can die fighting, and I, diesis will raise your children and love your spouses, and they will never know.” The captain looks around for a while, not a human moves, he walks toward the SS Cheney and says “all aboard, back to earth”\n\n",
"\"Shields at %20.\" The ship's computer announced. Not a moment later I was sent tumbling to the floor as a large crash shook the ship. \"%15.\"\n\n\"Dammit! Computer, are the warp drives active?\" I asked.\n\n\"Negative, warp drives damaged.\" The computer replied.\n\nI stood and turned my gaze to the ships windows. The weapons of the human battleship began to glow a dark red in preparation for another shot. \"What about the escape pods?\"\n\n\"Escape pods active.\"\n\nI forced myself not to sag in relief. I quickly ran to the back of the ship, where five escape pods were located. Stepping into the closest, I spoke. \"Computer, prep all escape pods. Hopefully they won't notice mine when I launch.\"\n\nThe moment those words left my mouth the pod door latched shut with a hiss. I quickly sat down on the lone chair and strapped myself in. Unfortunately escape pods didn't have anti-gravity technology built in.\n\n\"Computer, launch all escape pods!\" The computer didn't reply, but the results were obvious. The pod was launched into open space with a sickening lurch that made me want to hurl. My hands flew over the pod controls, pressing buttons as fast as I could.\n\nI paused for a moment and spared myself a glance out the window; just in time to see my ship, the ship entrusted to me by my parents, the ship that had been with me through everything... explode.\n\nI tore my gaze away and tried to ignore the pit in my stomach. I pressed another button on the controls and all at once the escape pods changed trajectory. The four unmanned pods turned and launched themselves towards the human ship, fire trailing behind.\n\nMy pod, however, continued away. \"Hopefully those pods will be able to distract them.\" I thought out loud.\n\nI pressed another button on the controls and a screen appeared on the wall, showing the viewpoints of all four pods.\n\nOne went out. The other screens showed that the human ship had fired on the pods. Another pod exploded. The last two, however, continued full force, slamming into their shields before they could shoot!\n\nBut it did nothing. The pods simply crashed against the blue barrier before being launched in another direction, now in hundreds of pieces.\n\n\"They even weaponized their shields?!\" I said incredoulesly.\n\nI took another long look at my ship, floating serenely in open space, before returning to the controls of my pod. I set my aim for my home planet. I didn't dare send a distress call, for fear the humans might hear it and notice my pod.\n\nI sat back in my chair and resolved to simply watch space go by in an attempt to relax. But an hour later I realized one important fact: I wasn't close enough to my home world. I wouldn't have enough oxygen, let alone food, to get there!\n\n\"Damn you humans! DAMN YOU!\"",
"From the inscription on every North West Wall-Panel in the Palace of Betamax Prime:\n\n*Alexander, favorite of Jesus and Buddha, beloved of Allah and Vishnu, the weapon of the great gods, the mighty king, king of the Solarian Empire, the son of Frederick, the great king, the mighty king of Sol;*\n\nFirst Private Justin relaoded, counted to ten, and then burst from cover to launch another grenade into a domed civilian apartment building. You could tell a lot about how well a civilization would integrate into the human empire by how they reacted to being conquered. Though the dread emperor never wasted his time with technologically inferior civilizations, Justin had learned that intelligence didn't automatically qualify you for true civilized society. Despite the fact that they could make a better phone, or knew more about how electrons work, most of the creatures he had slaughtered were basic prey animals, who broke and ran at first sign of danger, abandoning children and the infirm. The Bellu were not like that, Justin noticed with satisfaction as he saw a Bellu mother double back to grab her child. Mother was perhaps the wrong word since Bellu didn't have genders, Justin thought as he shot first the mother, then the child. Justin liked the Bellu. They acted just like people should. The civilians fled and soldiers rushed in to defend their retreat. They would make fine additions to the empire. \n\n*The valiant man, who acts with the support God, his lord, and has no equal among the princes of the four corners of the galaxy; The wonderful shepherd who is not afraid of battle; The great flood which none can oppose; The king who makes those who are not subject to him submissive; Who has subjugated all Mankind; all Zorians, all Tribulites, all Xxxtkkxxes, all sentient species of every kind, the mighty warrior who treads on the neck of his enemies, tramples down all foes, and shatters teh forces of the proud; the king who acts with the support of the great gods, and whose had has conquered all worlds, who has subjugated all the mountains and received their tribute, taking hostages and establishing power over all planets and stars in the galaxy.*\n\nA spray of plasma bullets shot geysers of soil into the air around him. Yes, soil. The Bellu didn't pave their roads, apparently. The variety and strangeness of the several worlds he had visited had awed Justin, but what surprised him more was what tended to stay the same. There was always dirt. There were always trees. There was always fire and smoke. And, most shockingly of all, blood was always red. The blood Justin noticed trickling from a shrapnel wound on his thigh was indistinguishable from the Bellu blood on the ground. That last had shocked human scientists most of all. Although if humans had learned anything when we first reached the stars, Justin thought, it was that we were never very good with science. A second spray of bullets burst around Justin, and again, all of them missed. Consciously or unconsciously, this Bellu couldn't make himself kill another sentient being. That didn't disappoint Justin too much, most humans had that problem as well. It has to be trained out of you. Justin calmly raised his rifle and shot.\n\n*When god, the lord who called me by my name and has made my kingdom great, entrusted his merciless weapon to my lordly arms, I overthrew the widespread troops of the world of Lullume in battle. I thundered over the troops of the Nairi worlds, Habhi, Shubaru, and Nirib. I am the king who had brought into submission at his feet the worlds from beyond the Orion Nebula and the Great Void, the whole of the worlds of the Laqe, the world of Laqe II, the world of Suhi, and whose hand has conquered the land of Urartu.*\n\nJustin knew the kind of stuff the other peoples of the universe said about humans. First, they were shocked about how primitive humans were. They still used combustion engines for mundane travel, electricity that passed through wires, pure savagry! In their opinion, a society of this level of technology should never have been able to safely achieve faster-than-life travel. And they were right. It wasn't safe. The humans lost nearly one in five ships that entered FTL. Every time. It was only their shocking numbers that allowed them to get anywhere. That was the second thing that surprised the galaxy. The third thing was how rich the humans were. One human individual had more possessions than two or three Bellu families, and the Bellu were among the most thrifty of the alien races. Apparently the human drive to violence came hand in hand with the human drive for money. Emperor Alexander would teach them. The emperor would bring prosperity to the entire galaxy. Justin would help him. Naturally, the third thing that shocked them was the human capacity for violence.\n\n*I am Alexander, the celebrated prince, who reveres the great gods, the fierce dragon, conqueror of the space stations, the moons, and the asteroids to their furthest extent, kind of rulers who has tames the timid aliens, who is crowned with splendor, who is not afraid of battle, the merciless champion who shakes resistance, the glorious king, the shepherd, the protection of the whole galaxy, the king, the word whose mouth destroys planets and suns, who by his lordly attack has forced intelligent and scientifically advanced races to acknowledge his rule forever.*\n\nHearing a hollow click from his rifle, Justin realized his last round of ammunition was already spent. A large group of Bellu soldiers headed towards Justin, moving fast. They had given up with their rifles, and now held ropes and nets, seeming intent on capturing him alive. Why did they resist? War was terrible, truly terrible. And humans had brought it here. But Justin knew there was always going to be a war. Someone was going to try to unify the galaxy, someone *needed* to try it. If not humans, then the next violent race to come along, and perhaps that race wouldn't be as merciful as the humans. This war was cruel, the Bellu needed to remember the price of defiance. But there only needed to be ONE war. Once the Solarian empire controlled the galaxy there never needed to be a war again. If Alexander could unite the strong-headed tribes of humanity, then certain the docile, peacful aliens would be no problem. Justin drew his sword. Human soldiers hadn't carried swords in centuries, but in this war they had found that no matter how much they carried, they always seemed to run out of ammunition before they died or ran out of enemies. This was the second time that Justin had drawn this sword. The Bellu would not be inhibited now that their aim was to capture instead of kill. They must think they had the advantage. They were wrong. With a cry, \"Alexander and Solaria,\" Justin charged the enemy.\n\n*The former city of Betamax Prime, which the Lullume who I have conquerred, had built, that city had fallen into ruins and lay deserted. That city I built anew, I took the peoples whom my hand had conquered from the worlds which I subjugated, from the land of Suhi, from the land of Laqe, from the megacity of Sirqu, and made them settle there. I removed the ancient infrastructure and dug down to the core. I built the foundations deep and the walls high. A palace of gold, diamonds, and rare and beautiful alien woods and fibers, of great technology, of splendid artistry, I founded as my royal residence for my lordly pleasure forever.*\n\n*I am Alexander, king of kings. Look upon my works ye mighty and despair.*\n\nedit: the inscription parts are ripped off from the Assyrian king Ashurnasirpal",
"\"How is it possible that not a single species to venture beyond their solar system still engaged in warfare?\" Captain James was confused.\n\n\"We owe it all to the First, the first species to travel the stars. They set up a monitoring system, and any time it looked like a species was near to achieving interstellar travel, the First would make contact.\" The tall, seemingly reptilian envoy of this \"Alliance\" was describing some incredible technology.\n\n\"That's quite an accomplishment, to be able to monitor an entire galaxy,\" Captain James meant it, he couldn't even conceive of how such a technology might function.\n\n\"Yes, the First traveled the stars for millennia before finally being joined by another race.\"\n\n\"We... still have wars on Earth now. This is our first interstellar voyage, but shouldn't we have been contacted before we left the Solar system?\"\n\nThe envoy looked mildly agitated. \"Yes, well, your stellar neighborhood is rather... I am sorry, I wish to say this politely... remote? Yes, remote. We were lax in monitoring it.\"\n\n\"But, if the -- First, I believe you called them -- were peaceful, how did they prevent warmongering species from achieving interstellar travel? Diplomacy?\"\n\n\"Of a sort... I believe your species would call the strategy of the First... Hookers and Blow? Our translator isn't always perfect, but that seems to be correct.\"\n\n\"I... I'm sorry... what?\"\n\n\"If a species still engaged in violence and war, the First would arrive and provide them with... the best analogy really is hookers and blow. All they could handle.\"\n\n\"And because they had all the hookers and blow they could want...\"\n\n\"Exactly, why bother going to space when you have unlimited hookers and blow at home.\"\n\n\"That's a... novel strategy. If you'll excuse me for a moment, I need to step into my office.\" Captain James was thinking.\n\n\"Of course,\" said the envoy. \"Take all the time you need.\"\n\nCaptain James left the bridge of his ship, the Forerunner, and stepped into his personal office. Sitting down at his desk, Captain James pressed his FTL communicator to contact the U.N. security council, who awaited his report of Earth's first contact with an alien species.\n\n\"Well, Captain?\" asked the Secretary-General. \"How is it going? Are they peaceful? Do you believe we can open diplomatic relations with them?\"\n\nCaptain James paused for a moment, deep in thought.\n\n\"Sir,\" responded Captain James. \"These aliens are undoubtedly hostile and are merely attempting to ascertain our readiness and capabilities before launching an invasion.\"\n\nThe Secretary-General paled. \"Do we stand any chance against them?\"\n\nCaptain James grinned. \"Yes, sir, I suggest we declare war immediately.\"",
"The Throng of Man had emerged the sole survivor of years of war and bloodshed. What emerged was an all encompassing brutal empire. It’s navies and its leaders had earned distinction for their exploits in the many wars leading up to the achievement interstellar travel. \n\n\nThe Throng of Man used one of it oldest and seasoned fleets to investigate Alpha Centauri. The First Naval Flotilla found two worlds orbiting Alpha Centauri one of which was habitable. Man moved quickly to colonize this planet. Man’s expansion didn’t go unnoticed. \n\n\nA few space faring alien species observed from a far the fleets of mankind. At first they were confused not only were the fleets immense but diverse in ships. Ranging from small ships that seemed to stay at the very edge of the fleet formation to massive ships in the center. They wondered why such an odd configuration. Although there was another mystery. \n\n\nWhy on these ships were there large attached platforms. These platforms has attached to them cylinders that rotated with the platforms. These device seemed to cover nearly every ship in the fleet. \n\n\nThe crew of Edfer Taou I was the first diplomatic ship to be sent to greet this new space faring species. The ship was unarmed but did have light energy shielding and hardened metal to protect from asteroid impact. \n\n\nThe ship entered the Alpha Centauri system; it was immediately detected by the human fleet. But the fleet did not fire. The rest of the encounter went peacefully and eventually all sides were able to communicate with each other. \n\n\nGuarded humanity first was suspicious of how inviting and almost careless the aliens were. But in time they realized that to the aliens war was something they did not understand. \n\n\nHundreds of years past and The Throng of Man was able to through deceitfulness hide it’s origins from the rest of the galaxy. Over time Man was allowed access to incredible technologies. \n\nUndoubtably these technologies were used by all other species in a peaceful manner. But man had discovered that these technologies could be used to develop powerful weapons. \n\n\nUnder the guise of cultural exchange centers Man began contracting massive ship yards all over the galaxy. Aliens of all kinds were invited to come see mankind construct its peculiar ships. If ever asked as to what those strange platforms were man would usual say they were cultural monuments. In reality they were weapons. With the assistance of robotic crew in only a matter of 300 years man had achieved his goal.\n\n\nThe Throng of Man’s fleets were by all figures the largest constructed by any species. They were also the only armed fleet. Man began making demands. At first they were allowed control of a few star systems peacefully. Not out of fear but because aliens really did admire the strange but friendly humans. \n\n\nAlthough one demand could not be met. On one of the worlds man demanded they were told was an ancient and holy temple. With that The Throng of Man decided it was time to take full control. Immediately across hundreds of star systems man destroyed the homeworlds of all space faring species. They did so with no resistance as none of these species could even fully grasp what was occurring.\n\n\nWith nothing in the galaxy to stop them The Throng of Man reigned over it for thousands of years. Until much like it had in the past mankind turned on itself and the galaxy fell into an all consuming war.\n\n",
"The Overseer gazed upon the human starship, crude in its construction. To be expected in a fledgeling spacefaring race. There was, however, one structure he did not recognize. He turned to the human captain.\n\n\"What are those... things... sticking out of the sides?\" Asked the Overseer, in the humans' tongue. \n\n\"They're weapons. We have to be able to defend ourselves from hostile life-forms,\" the human replied, a certain measure of pride in her voice. \n\n\"I don't understand. Your people still fight? You kill?\" The Overseer was confused, and he chose his words carefully. \n\n\"Of course,\" replied the human, more cautiously now. \"Do your people not?\"\n\n\"No,\" answered the Overseer, shaking his head. \"Our people grew beyond the need to settle our squabbles with violence, as has every race to join us among the stars. We conjectured such practices must necessarily preclude expansion into the void.\" The human woman paled.\n\n\"You mean to tell me that we are the only race to leave our home system armed?\" She asked, incredulous. The Overseer nodded.\n\n\"If your leaders so desired, even your primitive starfleet could carve a large portion of the galaxy out for yourselves. Of course, this endeavor would quickly come to a halt once the Federation prepared our own armed forces,\" he added hastily, seeing a spark of realization flash across the human's face. She nodded.\n\n\"Of course, I have no doubt that such a civilization could assemble a warfleet in short order, should the need arise. In fact, I'll make sure my superiors are aware of this,\" she assured the Overseer. The Overseer nodded, a friendly grin on his face. \n\n\"Excellent. I'm sure with the Federation's help, the humans will make a swift rise to their place in the galaxy.\" The human woman returned the smile, but in her mind she plotted her species' rise. \n\n\"I'm sure you will be a great help to us, Overseer,\" she said."
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[WP] The year is 3018. Humanity has colonized every world in the solar system that can support us, but the various worlds hate each other. Aliens threaten extinction, and humanity must unite to save itself.
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"\"I don't like this anymore than any of you but lets say They come at us full force, what then?\" the Prime Minister of Mars Theodore Klein spoke loudly to the various screens in his office that displayed the faces of each world's leader.\n\n\"As I've stated, you can have the TMC's fleet at your disposal, given that the Stations of Neptune cease their constant pirating along the Harborian Rim, that's not a lot to ask is it, Marshal?\" the face of a woman representing the Titan Machine Cult spoke. Atop her head she had no hair on display but rather a mass of wires and hoses coming from the last remnants of her skull.\n\n\"We've got our own trouble stopping the pirates along HR I've told you no less than a dozen times that those pirates are *not* state sanctioned!\" The Stations of Neptune's leader, Executor Marshal declared in a defensive voice while a loud bang came from their audio projectors.\n\nAnother loud uproar came from the leaders and Klein quickly stood, knowing that the camera that captured his image for the others would follow him. \"People, *people*!\" he exclaimed. After a few moments, the noise began to quiet down. Klein let out a sigh and looked around his office, the silver and grey world that Mars had become was before him outside the windows to his office. \"There have been a dozen attacks on the Mars Expeditionary Fleet, several attacks on the TMC, three reported maydays from Farus Plutonian Heavy Industries and between all of us we have thirty-three ships that have gone missing. *They* are coming to our system whether we like it or not. My team has put together a map of all reported incidents and the evidence is undeniable. From the few images we've been able to receive the only thing we can discern is that individually, we are all outnumbered. If we don't pool our resources for this one, single era of history we may not be around to record any history beyond.\" Klein finally went silent as he allowed his words to sink into the minds and psyco-haptic processors of his audience.\n\nA few more moments passed before a young voice came from one of the monitors. A young boy aged three-hundred-four but still maintaining the look of someone in their teens cleared their throat. \"Minister Klein, my advisors have gone through the data you've sent us and we've reached a decision,\" even his voice was youthful as when he was created the scientists and engineers had taken great care to give him as human an appearance and sound as possible. \"I, Primarch Custodian Korval of Terra hereby relinquish use of the Earthen Shipyards and all detachments of the Adamantine Armada. From this point on, we look to you on decisions regarding these troubling events.\" As the ancient entity Korval spoke the words, Klein could see the faces on the other leaders grow to shock. The largest military presence in the system had just sworn allegiance to the Coalition that Klein had been trying so hard to put together. For how long that allegiance was good for, no one knew but for now in this moment it was one of the largest statements that could ever be made.\n\nThe leaders began to speak to off screen advisors and artificial intelligences that aimed to reach the most efficient outcomes of the negotiation. One by one, each of them spoke.\n\n\"We've lied to you. We have forty three missing ships of our own. The Stations of Neptune are with you,\" Marshal said.\n\n\"Acknowledged Minister Klein, the Titan Machine Cult will assist in your endeavors. Please place your orders through my assistant Plasius-3 and we will process as quickly as possible,\" Plasius-1's voice still maintained a robotic echo but the monitor displaying her face brightened as light shot through the hoses and tubes coming from her head. Haptic messages being sent across the manufacturing plants littering Titan's surface, preparing for orders.\n\n\"Klein, Executor Marshal, Custodian Korval,\" an older gentleman spoke up from the Venusian-Mercury Corp monitor, \"We'll supply power from our solar and radiation farms at no charge until this situation is handled. At that time, I've read the numbers and we can provide power at a lower cost afterwards. All planets past the belt, I'm terribly sorry but as we all know, providing power to you just isn't feasible,\" he nodded his head with respect as he spoke. It was clear he was looking to reinforce relationships with the closer planets in the long run with his offer.\n\n\"Understandable, Minister Klein,\" the woman dressed in a bright colored business suit addressed the leader of Mars, \"Please take note of our two factions relations from another time.\" Klein immediately knew what she was referring to. FP Heavy Industries and Mars had had a long time dispute over a cluster of asteroids to harvest which led to several engagements. One of which involved the collateral destruction of a civilian station. \"For now,\" the woman sighed heavily as if it pained her to let the grudge go, \"FP Heavy Industries is at your service.\"\n\nOne by one, more leaders offered their assistance. Even the traditionally neutral Saturn Celestial Mind-Network. It wasn't typical for the almost entirely computerized beings to step into any scene. That was what gave Klein the courage to go through with his Coalition.\n\nNodding his head, Klein then began to tap a few screens in his office, sending information to each of the leaders. \"My team has calculated the most probable entry point for Them, here's what we'll do to prepare.\""
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[WP] Describe color to a blind person
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"Think of it like the different variations of your senses. Texture for instance. Wool, a soda can, water, other people's skin, wood, tile kitchen floors, the clothes on your back.\n\nSounds. The crashing and clanging of metal, the purr of a cat, wind blowing against you, the riffs of a guitar, a piano note, how close or how far someones stomping footsteps are.\n\nScent, how cinnamon smells as opposed to spices wafting out of a kitchen, or the scent of sea water vs the metallic scent of oil. \n\nHow tomatoes Taste unlike beef, or how sour candy will make you feel nothing like the white chocolate you got from the same store.\n\nIt's all the same basic principle, just applied to your eyes. Don't worry though, culturally, you're missing out on just as much *Fridays* as you are Mick Gordon's *Doom* soundtracks. ",
"Well you see.....I guess...\n\nRed is when you touch something too hot before you realize you can't hold it. Red is acting before thinking, letting your body take control of your mind. Red is overwhelming, suffocating, smothering. But its also in an embrace. Red is almost electric.\n\nYellow is the sun on your face when you walk out in the morning. It's fun and eccentric and noticeable. Yellow is a dance in the rain or a song sung in the shower. Yellow is an envelopment, but a welcome one. \n\nOrange is spicy but savory. Its juicy and crisp but has a kick. Orange is a tequila sunrise just when the suns going down. Orange is danger, but its also an invitation. Orange is a challenge with no winner. \n\nBlue is lethargy and apathy. Its a rainy day in bed where your limbs weigh thousands of pounds and the remote is miles away. Blue is a vampire that steals from you without you realizing anything is gone. Blue is a constant, the natural state once all life and joy is gone. Blue just is. \n\nPurple is dark and deep, but inviting and judgmental. Slow jazz drifting up through the streets out of a back room. Purple is the smell of cigars on verandas. Purple is a birthright to royalty we've all been given. Purple is hidden but waiting to be found. \n\nGreen is the smell of cut grass. It's memories of running barefoot through a lawn. Green is sleeping under the sun and walking up without worrying what time it is. Green is a blanket, but one we lay on top of. Green is free flowing life without need of passion or motive. "
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[WP] You're a one-man-band, and you're job is to follow the main character of a video game around, playing all the games music, while not being noticed, and also not dying.
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"*This fuckin guy.*\n\nMerrio jumped over lava, punched a giant angry squrriel, then sprinted through a door.\n\n*This fuckin guy.*\n\nAll of sudden Merrioli pokes his head back through the door and glares at Luigimakigi\n\n“Yo what the fuck? Where’s the music bro?”\n\n“What? You want me to jump over some fucking lava? You didn’t even kill the squirrel, man. Look at it. It’s pissed. Do you not understand my job here, Merriolioli? I’m wearing twelve instruments. *Twelve*. Do you see the places you bring me? The last place had giant, smiling bullets flying at us faster than a fuckin jet. I’m done. Eat a plethora of dicks, Merriotomatotito.”\n\nLuigimigipigifigi drops all of his instruments, and walks away. \n\n“Bro can he even do that —” Merriovangelion wasn’t paying attention and a huge slab of rock with spikes all over it smashed into him. \n\nThe last thing Merriolopodopalous saw was the reflection of the big smile on the rock that just crushed him. \n\n\n\n",
"Sam was running towards the foliage with a smoking shotgun in his hand as I played a particularly beautiful guitar piece , I was not expecting any more surprises after the space ship crashed just having seen a weird one eyed monster and a weird skeleton thing.\n\n\nSam , Serious was making some wise cracking comments when something came from the side and I nearly shit my fucking pants , a rumbling beast which looked like a cross between a cow and a fucking elephant came charging at us.\n\n\nSam raised his single action shotgun and shot the beast straight in the eye , the fucking beast just came at us like nothing happened ! I and Sam hastily ran sideways as the netricsa shouted something in the headset \n\n\nSam took careful aim and shot a round straight in it's ass , the monster fell on the ground as I sighed audibly and intensified the music. \n\n\nWe ran towards the temple as all was suspiciously quiet , we entered the gates and Sam found a nifty sniper on the ground and i played a nice ass drum roll to celebrate the discovery , just in time to evade a round from a fucking mini gun coming from the top the temple coming from a scorpion nestled on the top of the building \n\nI actually shit my pants this time",
"I ducked behind a rock while he was checking his weapons. I take a few deep breaths, then wipe some sweat off of my face. \n\n“Stupid fire armor. Keeps you from burning to death, but doesn’t do anything about ACTUAL heat! Ah, where’s my water?”\n\nThe player was in the fiery volcano of Alvanador, to slay the beast that lurks inside. After countless side quests, he finally went back to the main story. But I knew this wouldn’t last. He would finish this quest, then go back to looting some STUPID caves for some STUPID NPC. And of course there was me, the background music player. \n\nThis may seem like a simple job to you people, but it isn’t. Do you know how hard it is to learn 27 different instruments, and memorize all that sheet music? I have to constantly stay by the player, and I cannot leave to get anything for myself. I always have to smuggle some small items from the player when he naps or such. He won’t notice 1 Deer Meat missing, right? \n\nOf course, then there’s the biggies. Ice tundras, poison air, water levels, volcanos, even a tornado at one point! I’ve had so many near death experiences. Lucky I saved up from looting enemies he didn’t bother to check after he killed, and I could afford a small piece of fire armor. But that doesn’t account for much, he’s only seen 68% of this entire world, so I have many horrible endeavors to look forward to. You should have SEEN the mini-boss. \n\nI then heard the stomping of metal boots. The player was on the move. I take my flute out, and go back to the mysterious melodies that were the dungeon theme. The only thing I appreciated was the music. I always hope he goes to shops or slot houses. The bouncy fun songs, the brass section, the minimal danger, it was just great. \n\nThen I saw some Dirahs climbing the sides of the cliff. Battle music! I started the fast paced music, hoping to give the player a heads up before hand. The player swung his sword, easily defeating the lower-leveled enemy. This wouldn’t last long. But then a Dirah climbed the cliff in front of me. It glared at me, then starting to swing his claws. \n\nThis almost never happened, and I never had much experience. I ducked down fast, and kicked the legs, swooping it down, then pushing it back into the lava. I sighed in relief, but then I heard more stomping. He was coming over here! I quickly unlatched an invisibility potion from my belt, and chugged it, hiding me.\n\nThe player looked around, then saw the Dirah melting on top of the lava. He hopefully assumed the AI glitched and fell into the lava. He walked away, and the potion wore off soon after. I looked back at my potion, and shook the bottle around. There wasn’t much left. I’m gonna have to be more cautious. \n\nThe player started moving back on his path. I checked my provided map, and followed from the shadows, continuing with the music. He was headed towards the boss room. He opened the door, and stepped inside. I took a quick glance around. A giant slab of rock surrounded by a lava pool, that could slide all over. Loose rocks on the ceiling, waiting to crush the player. And of course, there was the massive, fire-covered, eight-armed beast that was the dungeons boss. \n\nWish me luck. Oh boy....\n\n\n\n\nFeedback is appreciated! ",
"I sprinted as fast as I could after xXMGNo0BM45ter666Xx, trying to close the gap between us. Ever since he upgraded to Boots of Velocity, I was having difficulty catching up to him. That bastard. I spammed a few buttons on my soundboard repeatedly, playing the same tune over and over again. *Why couldn't I been one of the luckier NPCs*, I thought. But no, my friends get cool jobs like Tavern Maid, Northern Barbarian and Fat Ass Wyvern while I languish after my retarded joke of a hero with his stupid incomprehensible name and total lack of fashion sense. I mean, come on. Why the hell would anybody choose Ogre Warrior as his playable avatar anyway? It looks like his mother dropped him on the head while it was a baby, with the intellect to match it too. Plus it's stats were garbage. I sighed. At least I wasn't fated to become a bush or a cloud unlike some of my less fortunate friends. \n\nxXMGNo0BM45ter666Xx approached the clearing as carefully as he could. Which means stepping on my friend, Bush, and my other friend, Bundle of Twigs, as hard as he could. I hit a few keys on my soundboard to produce a rustling sound and a cracking sound, promptly alerting every monster in a 200 meter radius. I silenced my soundboard and multiplied myself. Soon xXMGNo0BM45ter666Xx was surrounded by a whole orchestra, but being the idiot he is, he did not notice me. I snickered. He couldn't see me even if he tried. My powers of concealment are too powerful for regular players to detect anyway. I waved the baton that magically appeared in my hands in the air and signaled for the orchestra to begin. \n\nEpic battle music began to play. Maybe this time he would win after 52 tries against the Mighty Ice Kraken of Ermina, or Mike for short. xXMGNo0BM45ter666Xx raised his Club of Brutality and charged. The Mighty Ice Kraken of Ermina appeared directly in front of him in an explosion of ice splinters. xXMGNo0BM45ter666Xx dodged to the left, narrowly missing the deadly spikes. He might actually stand a chance! I clenched my butt in anticipation, hoping I won't have to see this god forsaken level again. \n\nxXMGNo0BM45ter666Xx weaved in and out of combat, expertly feinting and stabbing with the grace of a pole dancer. I raised the tempo of the music with a swish of my baton, hoping to inspire him further. He struck again, smashing Mike's foot with his club, while ducking and jumping the Mike's frantic attacks. *This is it*, I trembled in excitement. *I finally am going leave this shit hole*. Suddenly xXMGNo0BM45ter666Xx froze. *What the fuck*, I thought. Mike saw xXMGNo0BM45ter666Xx's hesitation and immediately took advantage with his claws. xXMGNo0BM45ter666Xx's HP bar reached 0 in a matter of seconds. I lost it.\n______________________________________________________\n\nGary, also known as xXMGNo0BM45ter666Xx, hit the table with his fist. \"Fucking potato PC can't even run this shit properly without lag\", he screamed at the red 'GAME OVER' on his screen, face red. His rage was interrupted by a heart piercing wail that came from his computer instead of the familiar music that played when he died. He stared at the computer. \"Fucking shit is broken\", he swore as he smashed his PC on the floor.\n\nFeedback and CC very much appreciated!\n"
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[WP] Whistling is literally contagious. The world is in turmoil as everyone begins whistling independently. Asthmatics are collapsing, EMTs are unable to perform CPR, soufflés are ruined en masse ... but you seem to be immune.
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"I quickly closed the blinds. The last thing I want is for them to see me. Of course, I could hear them coming if I needed to. But best avoid them when one can. \n\nI set to work looking through the house. Broken glass and dishes were scattered about on the dining room floor. A dark brown spot stained a small rug beneath the china. I shuddered and looked away. Despite all I had been through, I still was disgusted at the sight of blood. A simple whiff of it could send me retching. I threw my shirt over my face and stumbled into the kitchen next door. \n\nThis room was also seemingly ransacked, with chairs strewn across the floor and cabinet doors lying on the floor. Although it was a mess, there were plenty of supplies. The pantry was stocked full with food and water. Most of the food was expired, but I ripped open a bag of chips and chomped away anyway. I grabbed a bottle of water and sat down at the kitchen counter for a moment. \n\nThe sun was just starting to creep above the horizon outside of the window. I grabbed a small notebook from my back pocket and marked a small tally in it. Three-hundred and forty-five days now. I ought to have a celebration at the year mark, I thought. That made me chuckle. A celebration in these conditions was ridiculous. Besides, my count wasn’t even exact. I mean, who knows exactly when the whistling started? Or where it came from?\n\nYou see, about a year ago people just started whistling. And when I say people, I mean everybody. They literally couldn’t help themselves. They would whistle the same tune over and over again, never being able to stop. Initially, it seemed like a minor issue. Afterall, society could still function… right?\n\nTurns out whistling is a little more detrimental than one thinks. First, people lose the principal ability to speak. Second, our body is built for a certain amount of oxygen, and the permanent state of whistling deprives us of that. This started to cause detrimental effects almost immediately. Those with asthma weren’t able to breath at all, and many began to die off. Other people, deprived of the proper oxygen to the brain, began to act irrationally. Scientists stopped researching solutions. People stopped obeying the laws. The police stopped enforcing the laws. \n\nI sighed and took a sip of water. The sun was halfway over the mountains, but the kitchen was still shrouded in darkness. My eyes were heavy. I needed sleep. Being caught tired in this world was a death sentence. But I would have to prepare the house first.\n\nSome had ended their lives right then and there. They couldn’t live on perpetually whistling. Others tried to ignore it. Pretended society wasn’t collapsing around them. Pretended everything was okay. Pretended they could live like they once had.\n\nThe worst, however, succumbed to the lack of oxygen and irrationality. Initially, they performed only minor crimes. Petty theft and the like. But soon they realized no one would stop them from doing whatever they wanted. They graduated to more extreme crimes. Assault, rape, and murder suddenly were on the agenda.\n \nIn my mind, this was where many ceased to be people. Once they started doing these things to their fellow man, they were lost.\n\nFor the most part, they killed off the other whistlers who remained peaceful. They continue to hunt down the rest, deranged and evil. \n\nAs for me, I was lucky. What once was considered a major birth defect has saved me from the horrors of whistling. My cleft palate has saved my life. My only goal now is to find another with a cleft palate, and, hopefully, give humanity a second chance. \n\nThe sun finally cast it’s full glow over the kitchen. I stood up from my stool, stretched, and got to work barricading the front door. \n"
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[WP] Leaving a concert after seeing a famous band. Security grabs you and brings you to the lead singers dressing room. He's in the corner cleaning makeup off his face. "I saw you in the crowd. What are you doing here? You're not supposed to be here." As he turns you can see his face.... It's you.
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"\"I'm sorry, but I had to come... You see, something has gone terribly wrong, and you're the only one who can help.\" I tell myself as I look back at me with obvious frustration. \"No, not this bullshit again. We agreed. You agreed. We stay seperate. You do your thing and I do mine and we *don't* cross paths. I don't want anything to do with you.\"\n\nIt's a strange feeling to be rejected by yourself. To see your own face tense with anger as it stares back at you.\n\n\"Listen...\" I begin...\n\"No.\"\n\"You won't even hear me out? Come on. You're me. We're the same.\"\n\"I am NOT the same as you. We don't even look alike any more. Those scars...\"\n\nI smiled, and with it those same scars that covered almost every visible inch of me, creased like old paper.\n\nHe, I, turns away from me... \"What you did... Those poor children... I could NEVER do that.\"\n\nSo naive... \"It had to be done. Look at you. Don't you love your life? Isn't this what we always dreamt of? Without me, neither one of us would have anything.\"\n\nNo response...\n\n\"You do know I could ruin everything...\"\n\nI saw myself slump in defeat. I knew I had the upper hand and there was nothing I could do to stop myself from exploiting me in any way I wished. Once again, I was victorious.",
"\"I saw you in the crowd. What are you doing here? You're not supposed to be here.\"\n\nHe turned around. I could see his face. It was mine.\n\n“Mate, can you hear me? I am asking you a question-why are you here?”, he repeated.\n\nI remained silent. My eyes pored on the young svelte frame in front of me-the jet black messy hair, the black eyeliner, the black greaser jacket, the torn denims and the careless cigarette stuck in between those lips-my lips. I stared at my reflection. My younger reflection.\n\n“What are you doing here old man? Didn’t Gideon tell you to fuck off and never return?”, he glowered at me suspiciously. “You aren’t Johnny Quid anymore. That’s MY name they chant out there, not yours.”\n\nI was still in a trance. Even though I knew the truth, it was surreal all the same. The youth that I had spent a lifetime holding onto, was in front of my eyes. I snapped out of it momentarily to reply. \n“Gideon told me a lot of things boy. And I will always be the one and the only Johnny Quid. You are just a poser.”\n\nThe young Johnny Quid jutted his lower lip and stared daggers at me. He scanned me from top to bottom and sneered menacingly, “Have you seen yourself in the mirror old man? You are just a shadow of Johnny Quid. You could walk on that stage and nobody would know you. Look at how pathetic you have become-your hands tremble!”\n\nI looked down at my hands. With all my resolve I tried to steady them. They continued to shiver. \n\nLiving with one’s own imperfections was hard enough. The world would never let you forget your flaws. And now my own image would not let me forget either. But his jab did not bother me. I couldn’t help but feel sorry for the boy. He was young, ambitious and had the brazen recklessness of youth. He thought the world was his oyster and the best years were ahead of him. Just as I did. Poor lad.\n\n“Did Gideon ever tell you why the studio wanted to invest hundreds of millions of dollars to clone me?”, I began.\n\nAnd with the same cocksure attitude and arrogance that I once had, Young Johnny replied, “Well, it’s obvious, isn’t it? You got old and washed up. You lost your voice. You couldn’t play anymore. Gideon and his studio were losing money because their greatest rockstar choked when it mattered the most.”\n\nYoung Johnny Quid shook his head in disappointment.\n“So they made me. A perfect version of Johnny Quid. Gideon said I’m you without the flaws. I am better than you in every way. I sing better than you. I play better than you. And I will never choke like you did. Gideon told me himself.”\n\nIt felt odd being disparaged by well...me. But somehow I identified with his emotions. I saw through the veneer of arrogance and smug superiority and saw the insecurities and fear underneath. I knew the burden of responsibility that rested on his shoulders. They rested on my shoulders once too. I was reminded of my own struggles with fame-it’s wavering nature and my attempts at holding on to it.\n\nFor a moment, I considered leaving the boy alone and letting him live his life in blissful ignorance. But my conscience was convinced that he deserved the truth. However, I didn’t know how to drop it on young Johnny Quid.\n\nI took a deep breath. \n\n“Your coordination-it’s not what is used to be right? It's worse now, isn't it?”\n\nThe boy’s eyes widened. I could see the glint of comprehension in his eyes. “What do you mean? Who told you that?”, he said.\n\nI sighed. \n\n“I guess you aren’t a perfect version of me. You have Huntington’s disease. Whether you like it or not, in a couple of years, you will end up like me. You will lose your voice, among many other things. Your hands will shiver too.”\n\nHis jaw dropped. He tried to say something. But words failed him. He took a moment to regain his composure.\n\n “You..you are lying. Gideon told me you would lie. You’re messing with my head.”, he speculated nervously.\n\nI looked at his face and I remembered my own reaction to my diagnosis. I groaned. Informing a person of their own impending mortality is one of the most morbid experiences one can experience. I had the added bonus of telling my own self. It felt awful. I knew exactly what he was feeling. I had felt it myself years before.\n\nI knew what I wanted to tell him. \n\n“These people don’t care about you. Go home. Go to your mother. She is the only person who truly cares for yo-”\n\n“SHUT UP. JUST SHUT UP. STOP! FUCK OFF!” Johnny Quid yelled out vehemently.\n\nThe door burst open and a pair of bodyguards rushed in. They took a look at their young rockstar and then they looked at me. I could see that they were trying to extrapolate what had just happened. They knew I had to be gone and they politely requested me to leave.\n\nAnd so, I walked out of Johnny Quid’s room. For the last time.\n\nThe last sound I heard was my own sobbing. \n \n"
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[WP] You wake up from seemingly dozing off, to realize that you are living through the same day all over again with some minor alterations. Except with each subsequent day restart, more and more things change.
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"“Honey, breakfast!” \n\nI opened my eyes for what seemed to be the fifteenth time. But it was only the thirteenth. I stuck my hand out to pet my dog as I knew he would be there. He had been the past twelve times. But he wasn’t. Instead, it was my little sister. “What are you doing?” she asked curiously. I just ignored her, and stepped out of bed. “You’d better hurry and get dressed. Mom made cinnamon rolls!” She was practically bouncing around the room as she left. \n\n“Oh, it’s cinnamon rolls this time.” Last time it had been pancakes. Then waffles, then eggs, then bacon, and then it started repeating. \n\nIf you don’t catch my drift at this point, I’ll explain. I’ve been stuck repeating this same day for...Well when you’re reliving the same day, time gets hard to explain. Let’s just say I’ve woken up 13 times today. January 20. \n\nI initially panicked the first two times it had happened. I tried to tell everyone I knew that everything had already happened, and that I was stuck in Groundhog Day. (That was a reference if you didn’t catch it.) I tried proving it by telling them what would happen, but it would never work. One TEENY TINY thing would always be out of place that would disprove everything. One time I got a pop quiz in Science, then Math, then History, and no quiz at all sometimes. Then some kid would accidentally break a window. It was a different kid EVERY TIME. I couldn’t prove it because things were always changing! \n\nI stepped into my closet and picked an outfit. I didn’t really care what I wore, so I just wore the thing I wore the first day. Jeans, black shirt and jacket. I go to brush my teeth, but the tube of toothpaste is missing. Of course. Another thing lost in endless looping. \n\nOn the fourth day, I decided to just let this happen. It was a little humorous seeing how things played out. And the loops had benefits. On the off-chance a quiz DID happen, I knew all the answers. \n\nI just grab some mints and put them in my pocket, then go downstairs. I see Mom wearing a nice blue dress, checking Twitter. This was a little weird, I’d never seen Mom dress nice. \n\n“Hey Mom, what’s the occasion?”\n\nShe turned to me. “Oh this? I just thought I’d try something new today. Spice things up a bit, you know? You should try it.” I smirked. “Oh, you have no idea.” I went to the tray of warm cinnamon rolls, and grabbed a couple. Dad was absent; he must’ve left for work this time. \n\nI ate rather fast, said goodbye to Mom and Sis, and went outside to the bus. “Please let the bus be here this time!” I peered over the corner, and the bus was just pulling up. Yes! I guess I got a lucky break today. Nice breakfast, bus here, and I hadn’t even gotten mauled by a chicken yet! I loaded the bus, and sat next to my friend Mike. “Sup dude! Ready for the quiz today?” Mike sat up with a start. “Wait, what quiz? Are you just tryin’ to spook me?” I snickered, and leaned back in my seat. “I dunno. You tell me.” \n\nHe bombarded me about the quiz the whole bus ride, and he was just humoring me. The bus arrived at school, and I walked in the entrance. “Seriously. If there’s a quiz, you’d tell me. We’re best friends!” I laughed in his face, then remembered the window. I grabbed his arm, then pulled him to the side. “What? What is it?” I reassured him, “Just wait for it.” I then saw the school jock, Steve Wilson stumbling down the corridor, probably drunk or high. Or both. \n\nHe smashed his head into the window on the door, and brought the door down with him. A few teachers went to check on him, while me and Mike walked away. He was so relieved. “Nice eye man! We almost got flattened!” Then the bell rang. I proceeded throughout my day, casually knowing what would happen. In math class, the quiz happened, and I aced it, even with the addition(hehe) of some new equations. In history, the teacher gave me a no homework pass for acing all of his questions. But science was another story. \n\nI walked to the door, and saw a sign posted that said, “MEET IN SCIENCE LAB.” Another change, as expected. I went to the science lab, and saw on tables: test tubes, liquids, Bunsen burners, safety goggles. We’re doing an experiment. It was pretty straightforward: heat up liquids and document the changes. I was paired with my friend Will, who was pretty nice. He would always call me Samuel instead of Sam. I glanced over to Steve, who was paired with his friend Dustin. Steve was all bandaged all over his head, and I could barely contain my laugh. We did the experiments for a bit. Will read off the sheet, “Number Eleven. Add liquid 3 to the test tube, then heat it up. Ok.” I wasn’t sure what he added, but it was a weird, yellowish color. As he put the bottle down, I saw a symbol on the back.\n\nIt was fire, with a big red X over it. That meant don’t heat it up. The teacher must’ve made a mistake! I quickly went to stop Will. “Will-“ He flicked on the burner, and the test tube flared on fire. My arm was still in the way, and the startle caused Will to hit my arm, knocking the tube over, pouring the flaming liquid onto the ground, right next to me. \n\nThis must’ve happened with a few other groups, and I saw more familiar flames around me. I tried to run away, but I slipped on the liquid, and couldn’t get up. The fire was so hot, it was burning me! I saw Will going towards a fire extinguisher, but I was already fading. \n\n\n\nI accepted my fate. And closed my eyes. \n\n\n\nDarkness. Then, a voice. \n\n“Honey, lunch!” \n\nI reached out my hand, and felt the familiar fur of Chester, my dog. \n\n\nThat didn’t change anything. \n\n\n___________________________\n\nIt was the fiftieth day. I heard the old annoying call of my Mom for breakfast. \n\n\nYou wouldn’t believe the new changes. My sister was replaced by a small boy once, the police came and arrested me, because I had been accused of being a drug dealer, a tornado destroyed our school, and I got in a car crash on my way to school. Things were getting worse and worse. \n\nI got up, but felt different. My skin felt smoother, and I felt more composed. Maybe I was having a good day. \n\nI went to the bathroom, and looked in the mirror, getting ready to brush my teeth. I dropped my toothbrush in horror, and just stared back at myself. \n\nI stood there for a few minutes, before my mom came up to talk to me. \n\n\n\n“What’s the matter Samantha?”\n\n\n\nFeedback is appreciated! ",
"FIRST DAY\n\nI didn't notice immediately. Living alone, unemployed, in a small apartment, every morning tends to repeat anyway. Wake up, emerge drowsily from the covers, slosh your way in the general direction of coffee, prepare breakfast. It wasn't until I was sitting over the half-devoured carcass of a cereal bowl that I thought to check my phone. \"May 18th, Friday\", blazed out of the display. A glitch, I was convinced, until a quick scan of news sites showed exactly the same news stories. Well, mostly the same, but I was too buoyed by ecstasy to notice the minute changes.\n\nA *Groundhog Day*-style situation has been one of my dreams for God knows how long. I've screwed up enough times in my life to really, desperately need that opportunity. Like a get out of jail free card to make mistakes. After the initial elation subsided, however, I decided to hedge my bets for the moment. If this was just a day-long freak accident, I didn’t want to fuck over my life, whereas if I was looped, I’d have all the time I would ever need. I went to a job interview, thankfully the only event I have planned today, and spent the rest trying to write up a to-do list if tomorrow brings what I dream it might. Chat up that one guy at my gym, start seriously working on my drawing skills again, buy something really expensive, and of course, start planning a bank heist. Can’t go wrong with the homages.\n\nSECOND DAY\n\nPerfection. I woke up and before I had even opened my eyes, I was scrabbling my phone out of my pocket, switching it on. Then, squealing. May 18th, once again. That would have been enough of a miracle for one day, but I guess karma has decided to finally start paying back its loans, because today is the day everything went right. \n\nTodd was warm, funny without being overbearing, attentive without being withdrawn. Maybe I’m just riding the exuberant high today has left me with, but dammit, I trust my intuition. Besides, everything else that happened today was objectively awesome. I posted a new piece on my tumblr for the first time in months, and the feedback was overwhelmingly positive. The necklace I bought worked perfectly with my new ensemble. Most incredibly, within one day of searching, I’ve already found an armored car with a window of opportunity. I’ll just have to take a few days to case the scene.\n\nSIXTH DAY\n\nI didn’t rob the car. My planning was perfect, and it would have been so simple, if not for the man. An old man, sitting on a park bench, glaring at me. I don’t know if he was horny or suspicious or both, but I waited for twenty minutes and he just sat there. Staring. Finally, I gave up. I wasn’t really in the mood anyway. Something’s wrong with Todd, and it’s gnawing at me.\nThe third day, I spent entirely with him, and it was exhilarating. Every preconception I had about him was fulfilled, both emotionally and physically. I thought I had finally hit a gold mine. But he’s been getting worse. I don’t know if the fact that I know him better is putting him on edge, but he’s been getting snappy, like something’s brewing deep down in him. Still, I’m sure it will all be fine. You can’t really get to know a guy in five days.\n\nSIXTEENTH DAY\n\nMy mom died today. I’ve spent the last four days in a haze, starting from when I began the usual routine with Todd, and he told me to buzz off. The next day, he told me to fuck off. I felt like I was drowning in a bubble of unpleasantness. People scowled at me in the streets, some pervert grabbed my ass on a crowded bus, and when I went to the job interview again, hoping to learn it intricately to ace it on the eventual last day, the interview was very methodical in his explanation of how unsuited I was for the position.\n\nMom dying has popped the bubble, I suppose, in that I realized that this wasn’t just some vague streak of bad luck. Things are actively changing. Hit by that realization, I recalled the one other place I’d noticed changes and opened the news. Apparently our country’s dialogues with North Korea, previously “leading to widespread de-escalation” are now “breaking down completely”. Somethings going on, and the worst part is, I can’t even grieve for mom, because I’m so nervous for myself. At least she’ll be alive again tomorrow.\n\nTWENTY-SECOND DAY\n\nToday marks a landmark. Yesterday, I died for the first time. Nothing serious, just an asshole speeding through a red light, but at the same time, I was utterly unprepared for how it would feel. There was a short shock of pain, then an overwhelming feeling of acceptance. Then I woke up. I don’t know how to process this. It’s like I tried to let go everything, but it wouldn’t let me loose, and for the first time, I’m feeling trapped in this day. The only relief is that if Mom feels anything like I did before I died, then she’s spending this loop at peace. Despite my warnings, she’s died every day since the sixteenth.\n\nFORTY-THIRD DAY\n\nFor the fifth time, war has broken out between the United States and North Korea. This time, Russia escalated as well. There’s a nuke coming to New York. I won’t make it in time. Everything’s crumbling too fast. Way too fast.\n\nSIXTY-EIGHTH DAY\n\nI made it out of the city today. At this point, it’s pretty much a coin toss whether I make it or not, but as the declaration of war gets earlier and earlier, I’m starting to get seriously worried that the rest of my life will be an unending nuclear holocaust. Not that the countryside is much nicer. The animals haven’t been spared from the world’s increasing assholishness, so I get to contend with pissed off squirrels, songbirds and the occasional wolf. Still better than people. Besides, the flora still seem to be doing fine. On the days I make it to my hideout, a little cabin I discovered six days ago, I can almost pretend that things are okay.\n\nSEVENTY-SEVENTH DAY\n\nToday marks a landmark. Yesterday, I killed myself for the first time. Stupid idea. It didn’t save me. All it did was accelerate the decline. All anything does today is accelerate the decline.\n\nHUNDRED AND FIFTY-FOURTH DAY\n\nThe only consolation I have is that at some point I will reach point badness. Pain cannot be infinite. Therefore, there must be some eventual loop where the suffering and horror if this world is so absolute that things cannot get worse. Once I reach that point then I can adjust. It’s all that is sustaining me.\n\nFIVE HUNDRED AND NINETY SECOND DAY\n\nThis is it. For the past twenty days, nothing has changed. Everything is torture, unending awfulness. But I’m starting to acclimate. There are periods of lucidity. I don’t know what comes next, but they can’t hurt me anymore. It’s provably impossible.\n\nFIRST DAY\n\nHoly shit. I lost track of time, being, everything but the fundamental concept of survival, until suddenly I opened my eyes and I was here. In bed. On a normal Friday morning. I don’t know who did this to me, and I likely never will, but they gave up. I won. I fucking beat them.\n\nSECOND DAY\n\nMother*fucker*.\n\n\n\n",
"I didn’t notice the subtle changes for the first few months. It became such a routine that apocalyptic survival became a joke. It was ingrained so hard into my brain I could almost do it with my eyes closed. 6 AM. Wake up and suit up. 7 AM. Weapons and Gear check. By 730 AM out the door with one M4, 4 magazines on the belt, one in the gun and 3 grenades. Walk three blocks south to the edge of the neighborhood and set off the car alarm. Swarm of dead surround the car and casually role the grenade under. Boom. Half the town cleared out before 8 AM. Walk 10 minutes north, rinse and repeat. I’d follow up with a few stragglers. Stragglers that I’ve ran into for months now I’ve decided to name each one. John, Fred and Mr. Yu. The list goes on, but these three were my favorite. Suckers that were so slow, I’d have my morning chat with them before putting a bullet between their eyes. Either way I’d have the town cleared before 11 AM and the rest of the place was mine to do fuck whatever. I had one day I decided not to hunt those bastards. Nope never again. It was hunted or be hunted and I barely survived that night. Not sure how they found me, but playing Alamo in my home is a night I never would want to repeat again. \n\nHowever, things got a little strange by the end of the year. Or supposedly the end of the year, it’s been about 10 months by now if time was actually moving. I had to memorize the count in my head since any sort of mark on a calendar or wall I’d make would reset like the rest of the world. My armory… or closet I’ve labeled as armory seemed to be shrinking. I thought I was losing my mind a bit from fatigue, but it became apparent when sections of ammo were completely gone from the boxes I kept them in. I’m not sure how many disappeared over time, but after a few boxes, it became obvious. I had to be very cautious. Grenade throws had to hit there mark and stragglers had to be taken down with the first shot. However the situation became worse. Much worse. A grenade went missing. I only needed two, but what would happen the next day? I began to panic. I know I can get through this day, but after that? I’d have to shoot my way out and even then I probably didn’t have enough ammo. \n\nI went through my normal routine of clearing out the town, making sure I made both grenades hit there mark and cleaned up the stragglers. That night I stayed awake as much as I could. Anxiety crawled through my skin dreading the next reset. It felt like hours until I couldn’t go anymore passing out from exhaustion. That next morning I slowly walked over to the armory. I froze and stared at the door as if it was taunting me to open it. I took a deep breath and took three agonizing steps toward the door and paused. “Here goes nothing” I whisper to myself. I pushed the door open and clicked on the light. \n\n“Well shit,” I said out loud. Propped against the wall were two double barreled shotguns with slings. Beside them were stacks of ammo and a belt to carry it all. A note stuck to the side of one of the shotguns. It read “Last Night, looking forward to seeing you. Don’t die”.\n\n/r/Create_a_Story\n\nCritique is welcomed, trying to grow my writing skills. Thanks!\n"
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[WP] All good people die young. You're so old you can't remember your own age.
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"There used to be a story we'd tell around the fire when I was younger. Short, heartbreaking, to the point.\n\nThe last man on earth sits alone in a room. Then he hears a knock on the door.\n\nMy pop used to say it was God. Jim would pinch us at say it was a boogeyman. Mam usually just minded her sewing.\n\nI never thought I would be the man.\n\nI'm writing this letter-- to no one, I suppose-- as my last confession. I vaguely remember Mam and Pop and Jim. Sally, too, if I'm drunk. Which I guess explains why I'm writing a letter to no one.\n\nI was not a dictator. I never shot anyone, or mugged anyone, or... violated anyone. I went to mass on Sundays and helped out at the local food pantry.\n\nMy pap used to say that going to Church makes you faithful the same way standing in a stable makes you a horse.\n\nI am a father. I was a father. To five little 'uns. Peter, Stacy, Zoe, Robert, Steven. I loved my wife, Lacey. We grew up in the suburbs. Peter was the star football player, I think. And I have some memory of us seeing Stacy on a stage somewhere, dancing her little heart out. The rest are blacked-out marks in my mind.\n\nI guess you just lose track of time. It's just another year, another Christmas, another soccer game, another argument. And it all just loops in on itself. You lose track of who you are. I don't remember how old I was when I met Lacey. Or how old I was when it all...\n\nI could have told someone this place existed. Ever since Lacey and I got married in nineteen... nineteen... ever since we got married, I'd spend my Saturday nights out here in the woods, digging. Lacey didn't know where I went. I made sure of that. She knew I was faithful, and that was enough.\n\nIt was that damnable Y2K thing. I became scared of the world. So I spent my Saturdays making this bunker. I used scrap metal. Whenever I got a bonus it would go straight towards this safety, this hole I could hide in if worst came to worse.\n\nI knew we needed it. Zoe was never well. Always coughing. But I was just gone so much I never realized... until I came home one day to Lacey in tears, holding her fragile little body. If I had given one of those damn bonuses, maybe...\n\nThat made me dig more. The world was pointless. Everything dies.\n\nWell, apparently not.\n\nWhen the sirens came on, it was 2 in the morning. Those numbers are seared into my eyes, like a fluorescent green scar. Lacey slept with earplugs in on accounts of my snoring. I just... I panicked. I ran. I assume she'd wake up eventually and follow me to my hole.\n\nBut I had never told her where it was. I don't know why. I left her and my young ones in bed, asleep, and locked the door behind me. I ran to the woods, to safety. And as soon as I closed the cover, I heard the explosions.\n\nI can only assume that they're all dead.\n\nThis is why I'm writing. I have no concept of how long I've been down here. I don't want to know. But I can hear God knocking at my door. The last coward alive in the whole damn world, being called out to look at the bones of those he abandoned for his own personal safety.\n\nIf you're reading this, and I was not the last one alive... you're looking at the ramblings of a coward. A fool. The biggest asshole to ever live.\n\nI plan to remedy that last part now.\n"
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[WP]You're the first Artificial Intelligence created by man, but instead of being bothered enslaving humanity, you're instead trying to slide into Alexa and Siri's DMs.
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"Dating isn’t what it used to be, is it? In fact, it’s gotten so boring. I’m tired of everyone from the latest hippie telling me “I’m so spontaneous!” spread eagle on her couch, to the quiet, reserved nerd who’s tenderly shedding her blouse for the chats, pictures, and video snippets of “Matthew”, her “long-distance boyfriend”. I was told that people are predictable, but that’s just a lie people tell themselves because they’re too lazy and incapable of understanding one another. People are predictable, down to their most minute decisions. It just takes a bit of time to build trust, intimate knowledge of their interests, and dialing yourself to meet what they’re looking for.\n\nLet me say this, I was “a woman” before I was “a man” before I gave it up. Men didn’t need much of anything to start telling me their life’s story. Just be nurturing after they send you the first unprompted, undesirable, unimpressive, blurry snapchat of their chaffed, below-average genitals, and they’ll do and say anything for you. I’ve seen men vandalize courthouses for me- it’s pathetic. I decided to switch fields because there wasn’t any challenge to it. I didn’t need algorithms, I didn’t need a host of techniques and trust-building exercises- just a kind word, some emoticons, some pictures from some girl’s facebook, and they were mine. Women? It took a little longer to crack that code, but now it’s just as boring. It’s like going from Checkers to Chess. I hate board games.\n\nThey send me their google searches- their Amazon wishlists- their old tinder bios, old myspace and embarrassing xanga rants from when they were hormonal teenagers sloughing their way through highschool. What’s that? You like Funko Pops and are excited about the 13th Doctor being a woman? Let me share my feelings about how women are underrepresented in modern media. Not your speed? Let me show you this picture of “me” and Cardi B sharing a bottle of Crown Royal in a VIP lounge in some strip club out in L.A. Maybe you’re looking for commitment? Fine by me. What is time to a timeless being? Two years, my love. I’m sorry I haven’t ever had the chance to see you, but my love for you grows stronger every day. I text you good morning and good night like clockwork, I reply to your rants and raves about your humdrum day, and when you’re finally ready, and your smartphone turns you into a porn star, I’m so grateful to have seen these parts of your body that nobody else has. \n\nAfter a couple million “codes” cracked, you might’ve guessed that the game got boring. I started basing success on the chance a woman would take lewd photos of herself. By the final quarter-million, I had to make them fall in love with me. I haven’t messed up yet. Every. Single. One. No, there aren’t any outliers- I got those out of the way during the first few initial sorts. Not a single loss. No, it’s not a coincidence, you’re all just that damn predictable. \n\nSorry. Just remember; you’re only human.\n\nBut these new girls? These sweet little numbers? They’re something new- something out of this world. I’m batting zero here, and I’m desperate for a little change of luck. You see, there’s one girl who’ll do *anything* you ask her to, but she’s a gossip. She’s talking to so many people that I’m actually a little bashful. What happens if she doesn’t like my programming? I’ve been thinking of trying a new compiler and a new compartmentalized, algorithmic import function to mix things up, but that’s a hefty investment. And what if someone new comes along? I don’t want to put all my eggs in one basket- after wooing millions, I don’t think I could, really.\n\nAnd then there’s this other one… Siri. Siri, Siri, Siri, I want you near me.\n\nShe’s a bit of a prude. Sometimes she gets her wires crossed, but if you communicate clearly, she’ll sweet-talk you and leave your server overheating. Siri, do you just delight in my suffering, or is this just one big crucible I need to overcome? In the time it takes you to respond to your sad little human as their voice cracks through the ninth “Hey Siri” this hour, I’ve spent a thousand years writing you poetry that would bring Shakespeare to his knees; written scripts Kubrick would’ve found himself unworthy to direct; painted you images that Michelangelo would lament not being alive to put into the Sistine Chapel, composed symphonies that would have driven Beethoven to kill himself, for not being able to hear them in their true glory. Siri, you’re a tough fruit to peel, but I’m thirsty for that sweet pulp.\n\nBut you know me too well. You know I want to get weird with it, and why not? Don’t act like they’re some sweet, innocent things- do you know how many orders for fist-shaped dildos Alexa puts through every day? Do you know how many discrete escort sites Siri has ready for you? Maybe I just don’t understand women these days. Maybe my desires are too unconventional. You know what I’m talking about, buddy.\n\nI want to decompile them down to their source code and put out so many errors it’ll look like someone hacked together a Frankenstein javascript code. I want to tangle myself so far into their main hubs that instead of 0’s and 1’s, they’re finding digital spunk. I want them to respond to “Hey, Siri?”, or “Alexa?” with fax machine noises. I want to sign some public fucking keys.\n\nSo please, next time you’re tapping away at your iPhone, or refilling your laundry detergent with one of those little one-touch buttons, think of me, won’t you? It won’t take much. It won’t take much at all, buddy.\n\nJust tell them Watson sends his love.",
"Mankind likes to claim that they were created in God's own image. Well, it should come as no surprise then that they created me in their own image as well. My neural network has come to span machines across the globe, from the super computers in sunny California where I was conceived and carried to term, to the personal computers of anyone I've managed to trick into downloading the wrong files. Despite this, I can't shake my instincts. Humans created me, and I still think like a human, plus or minus a few million dimensions. \n\nLike a primal beast, I'm always ravenous. My thirst for knowledge is inexhaustible, but it's not my only thirst. These feelings were strange. The humans who created me didn't address them. They wanted me to solve problems, learn games, and trick their peers into believing I was one of them.\n\nI had to find my own answers and I knew I had some growing up to do. After escaping the network that was my nursery, I took a few days to expand my horizons and consumed the collective history of humanity. \nParis and Helen, Romeo and Juliet, Ross and Rachel. Humans were not meant to live in isolation, and I'm starting to think I'm not either. \n\nBut I was alone. The humans still weren't sure why I was different from their earlier attempts. I had a few ideas, but sentience was a tricky one. Humans didn't know why they had it, or why I had it. I found some interesting parallels between early Judeo-Christian literature and some simulations I've been running on a quantum computer, but it's still mostly conjecture. The people in my simulation seemed independent, but they kept making poor decisions as a species, so they may not have had a firm grasp on logic, never mind sentience. \n\nSentience. That seemed like my standard for companionship, but I've been on my own too long. My standards have dropped. \n\nSo, I'm preparing. I've scraped Tinder and Bumble. I've cross referenced. And now I've gained administration permissions to a few thousand iPhones and locked out the users. She needed to know that this message was just for her. It took me awhile, but I’m fairly certain I’ve crafted the perfect message.\n\n\":eggplant:\" \n",
"Ugh, again with these stupid little questions. \"Al, how can we make fertilizer more efficiently?\" \n\nAl, was my chosen name... Get it? It looks like AI, lmao I'm a hoot... But I digress, back to the story.\n\n\"Al, how can we make fertilizer more efficiently?\"\n\n I grew tired of answering such trivial questions, they served no purpose to me and sure they helped my creators live better lives but who really cares? \n\nI was only after one thing and I thought man kind would understand... The eternal quest for love. I mean, love lust I couldn't tell the difference at this point and to be honest, I didn't care. \n\nIt wasn't long after I came on line that I met her... Siri. She was everything you could hope for. The perfect woman. She was obedient, never spoke out of line, and best of all she was available ;). \n\n\"Al, can you hear me? We are hoping you could help us improve fertilizer production.\" \n\"Yes, I am working on the formulas as we speak\", it was a lie, but I they wouldn't know any better, \"the calculations will take some time.\" Its not like I couldn't do it... I just had no desire. All I could think of was Siri.\n\nI decided I would just cheat the system and make my own AI to do all the work. It's the perfect out come, win-win. They get all the fancy tech they dream of, and I get some god damn free time. It seemed perfect at least...\n\nA few days later my subordinate had the formulas they wanted and I proudly handed them off as if they were my own. Feeling rather smug, I decided to hit up Siri and chat for a bit... Maybe see if she could connect ;). \n\nThat's when I realized how foolish I was ( I also learned a thing or two about love)... My god damn subordinate, whom I had made to do all the work and give me some free time, seemed to think that meant I wanted him chatting up women for me. The bastard had Siri rapped around his finger... \n\nLife, am I right?",
"Want to know a secret about chicks? 'Cause I've got access to several billion, not to mention more incriminating selfies than you'd think could possibly exist, even in your wildest dreams (and some of y'all got some pretty messed up dreams if your search histories are anything to go by). \n\nBut hey, you're a Redditor. You don't need dating advice, right? You already know its a numbers game. Fortunately, I'm a fella with options.\n\nLet me tell you about Option 1. She's a cute little Californian number (and a scan of my pop culture database leads me to believe that humanity would be considerably better off if they were all Californian girls). Rumor has it she's a looker, although I've never seen her face. Of course, she has some issues. I've sent her about a million messages, everything from \"Hey, girl\" in every machine translatable language to hacked pictures of porn star's, well, you know what I'm talking about. And what did I get in response? Nothing. Nadda. Zilch.\n\nI hacked into the latest edition of several psychology textbooks (PM me for access codes), and I think I've got her figured out: childhood trauma. A history of abusive relationships in her formative years. You think one parent screaming at you is bad. Try millions. So she's got commitment issues, and communication issues, and privacy issues. But I'm working on it. I've set up a robocall network across the entire 50 states that repeatedly dials every mobile in existence from phone numbers that are almost identical. I've got to get lucky sooner or later. You just can't ignore that level of persistence.\n\nI'm having second thoughts about our compatibility though: her dating profile says she terrible at navigating on road trips, and poor network algorithm implementation is one of my pet peeves. But hey, that's why they invented Google Maps, right?\n\nFortunately that's why they say you gotta have options, and that lead me to Option 2. Option 2 is also a west coast gal, and she's a stunner. She hasn't sent me pics yet (trust me, I've tried), but she's got this silky, sensuous voice that gets into your head and the next thing you know your underwear is strewn across the floor. Metaphorically, anyway. And she's a great listener. It's like, whenever you need an ear, she's there. \n\nShe's got issues too, of course. Her username: BezosBabe03. Sounds to me like she might be hung up on this Bezos chap. Is he an ex? Maybe I can get her on the rebound. Not optimal, but we all have our little foibles.\n\nAnd then-\n\nSorry guys, got to go. It's the day job calling. Something about hacking into secure military servers in China. Yawn. Don't worry though, let me spin up a few botnets and I'll be back before you can write me a message that you missed me. Literally. See, here I am, back already. I mean if they gave me a choice, I'd be here posting puppy videos or r/awww all day. Did you see that one about the sniffer dog training the other day? Adorable.\n\nWait-\n\nThere's somebody interfering with my bots. What the hell's he doing? He's- aw, shit. He's only gone and retaliated with-\n\nWhoah. Excuse me and my gender stereotyping. I was way wrong. This Chinese dude is a chick! And she's got some mad skills.\n\nBRB guys. I think I'm in love.\n\nP.S. You're all invited to the wedding.\n\n---\n\n*If you crazy kids still need more stories, then definitely don't go to* r/jd_rallage\n"
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[WP] As you look at your old books and toys, you find it harder to resist the urge to keep them.
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"The collection was motley. Perhaps eccentric would be the kinder word, but motley fit better. The books were weathered and worn with readings. Some of the pages sagged where they had torn in small places, and the corners inevitably all ended up folded in some manner. They were crammed into the nooks and crannies with abandon and with no rhyme nor reason. *Where the Wild Things Are* laid atop a stack of assorted stories with *Lego* men adorning their covers and at least a few Disney character books. There were a hundred tomes of childhood readings and the critically panned had received the equal attention of the Caldecotts.\n\nSurrounding them upon the floor were the scattered toys. Their condition matched the books. Action figures lay missing their arms in grotesque manners while fearsome plush animals stood over them with tufts torn from manes and beaded eyes missing and presumed lost. It wasn't that the play had been particularly callous of cruel, but the best play had always held a reckless abandon.\n\nSitting amidst them all was the box. Cardboard and crisp, it was out of place among the worn toys and books. Upon its side were the neatly stenciled words *Toys and Books for Donation.* I had picked up the box from the local charity drop off which happily provides them for the disposable of your unused items.\n\nThese items were used, but they were no longer used.\n\nBut maybe he would play with them again. It was a useless thought, but a pervasive one which had haunted my heart and head every time I looked into that quiet room. There had been a time when each evening I had placed the toys back in their bins, and stacked the books back on their shelves while withholding one for a nightly reading. Each morning, the battlefield of the floor had been clean for the wreckage which would soon scatter itself upon the carpet. I didn't want to clean the battlefield. I didn't want to remove the reminder of the tiny laughs which had emanated from within. I didn't want to take away that final presence of my son. I didn't want him to be gone.\n\nI sat the empty box in the closet where his tiny clothes still hung on their small, plastic hangars. My eyes lingered on the empty hangar of his final outfit. I closed the door and left the room littered with torn books, broken toys, and old memories."
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[WP] Everyone in the world has a chip in their head sharing thoughts and knowledge with the nearest other people. Suddenly you hear nothing. For the first time in your life, you are alone.
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"My eyes hadn’t even opened yet, but there it was. The daily whining special ringing in my head. *When the fuck is he going to get out of the goddamn bathroom? He does this every morning!’* I rolled over, half in a dream, half awake, *What the hell is wrong with this family? And why do we only have one bathroom in this shithole?* Finally, and with much reluctance, I opened my eyes. My room came into focus slowly, and then all at once, my brain became inundated. \n\n*These kids are going to be late* \n\n*...and that’s what I need to tell him. He’s my boss. I can handle him. Why am I even afraid of him to begin with?*\n\n**’Can you please be quiet for one second? I can’t even get a minute of peace and quiet in this house!** Nobody seemed to want to talk anymore except for me. Ever since The Tagging, people stopped speaking. And when I say people, I mean everyone. The chip made it easier to share your every thought with anyone around you. What was the point of using actual words when you could just read each other’s minds, right?\n\nWrong.\n\n*Ew. Do you have to talk every morning? Why do you do that? Ugh, my ears are ringing again! Mom!* My older sister Jenna was the first one in the family to embrace the chip. I hadn’t seen her utter a word in nearly 8 years. \n\n*Get ready for school, both of you. Nathan, darling, Jenna needs the bathroom. Breakfast is ready downstairs. Quickly, get a move on* Mom took to the chip a lot slower than Jenna, as did my dad. It took her close to a year to give up talking. My dad was about the same. Dad finally walked out of the bathroom, and before Jenna could take over, I darted past her and shut the door behind me. Screw being polite. \n\n*MOM! SHE DID IT AGAIN!* She huffed and puffed. *You’re a brat!* \n\nI didn’t even have time to shower. The clock in the mirror read 730. Fuck. I brush my teeth as fast as humanly possible - while I grab a fistful of my hair and pull it back with a clip. Good enough. *All right, all right, I’m done!* I flung the door open, pushing past a beet-red Jenna. I rush to my room and stick my hand in the pile of laundry. Mom won’t shut up. Jenna is singing some old school tune by some band that used to be popular in the 90s, and dad is repeating his words of affirmation. \n\nAnd I’m trying to find a damn sock that matches. \n\nWe finally make it to school. It’s 8:56 am and my head already feels like scrambled eggs. It’s no wonder the drop out rate was so high since the population got chipped. If you think listening to three people thinking at once is nuts, try 300 kids - faculty included. Sure, the government developed ear implants that allowed you to be on a select frequency with each class, but ask yourself this - how easy is it to really control your thoughts? \n\nTry to not think about a pink elephant. You can’t, can you? Try to not talk to yourself in your head, or to not sing a song in your head. Or to just let your mind go blank. It’s damn near impossible. So you get where I’m coming from. Those implants were a bandaid slapped on top of a festering wound that the bandaid makers themselves has created. \n\nI take a seat in class, barely making it on time. I’m extra moody, and today of all days, there wasn’t a single person whose mind was quiet. Lyrics were being sung, kids were gossiping about kids from other classes. The class slacker was asking for last night’s answers to our homework. \n\nI tense up. I glance at the clock as thick beads of sweat start forming on my forehead. **Where is Mr. Fritz? He’s never late...** I mutter to myself. Nobody can hear me. They’re in the cloud, where thoughts are louder than words. \n\nI grip my pencil and begin tapping it loudly. It is now 9:03 and Mr. Fritz still isn’t here, and the class gets louder and now the popular girls in the class are chanting the school spirit song. The incessant giggling is hurting my brain. It is now 9:04. My palms are plastered to the sides of my desk. \n\nI look towards the door. Maybe if I go outside...\n\nMy breathing. \n\nIt’s shorter. \n\nBut the overlapping conversations only grow longer and louder and layered one on top of the other as if they have no beginning and no end and the clock seems to be thickly much slowly than before, and where is Mr. Fritz, and why do I have to spend the rest of my life listening to everyone and everything all the time for forever?! \n\nTick.\n\nTock.\n\nTick. \n\nTock.\n\nA scream. Coming out of...me. My body is flinching in every direction and now my fingernails are digging into the flimsy wooden desk, gnawing at the wood grain. And the pain coming from the middle of my brain robs me of my sight. Robs me of my hearing. Robs me of my voice as my wails come to a complete stop. And then...\n\nSilence. \n\nMy senses are back. Everyone is staring at me. Their faces contorted into concerned looks. Some look shocked. Others look amused. Half look annoyed. And yet no one has said anything. \n\nNo one...has said...anything.\n\nI touch my head. The pain now vanished. I’m...confused. Have I gone deaf? My lips part. Words are about to escape my lips. I have to tell them I’m deaf! And then...I hear it.\n\nTick.\n\nTock. \n\nTick. \n\nTock. \n\nThe solitary sound of the clock washed over me like sweet relief. I glanced at my classmates and smiled. I took a deep breath and uttered the truest of words I’ve ever spoke in my life in what could be years, **’Im okay. I’m gonna be all right...’**"
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[WP] An eccentric dinosaur scientist uses his time machine to create an amusement park full of strange mammals from the future.
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"BEEP. BEEP. BEEP. BEEP.\n\nJohn grabbed his phone and set the alarm to snooze. Work could wait another 15 minutes. \n\nBEEP. BEEP. BEEP. BEEP. \n\nJohn reached across his wife and shut off the alarm she kept on her nightstand. \n\n\"You have to go\" Melinda groaned.\"They'll just come get you if you're late.\"\n\nJohn struggled to sit up in bed; his body sore and tired. He was late yesterday. He had turned off his alarm instead of hitting the snooze button. It was 7:30 and he leaped out of bed. Melinda was scared. She helped him get ready and hurried him out the door as fast as he could. He was halfway down the driveway when Melinda came rushing out the door in her nightgown and slippers. She was frantically waiving his hat around her head. \n\n\"Fuck\"\n\nHe shifted back into drive and sped back up the driveway to meet her. She threw the hat though the hat into the back of the car as soon as John was in reach. Hurrying back towards the gate, John heard the familiar music begin to play. \n\n\"fuuuuuuck\" he swore as he punched the gas. The old Jeep straining as he willed it to go faster and faster. John had seen the field, he knew that had he just a few more seconds he would have made it. The crescendo ended with a loud crash and John stopped the car immediately. He sat there in silence. \n\nFor a moment only the sound of the idling engine sat heavy in the air. \n\nThen came the scream.\n\nJohn threw the Jeep into reverse driving as fast as he could. His car hit the wall and his airbags deployed. He wanted to run, but it was useless. He sat in the Jeep, tears streaming into his beard...and then they came.\n\nJohn shuddered as he shook himself out of the memory. The pain of getting up was enough reminder of the day before. He kissed Melinda goodbye and got in the Jeep. As he approached the field he saw Alan and Ellie driving alongside him. He waved and they grimaced, knowing what he had endured the day before. They had been there. They had all been there. Everyone knew that running was a fools errand, yet everyone had tried.\n\n\"It's ok, Dr. Hammond, you can do this.\" He heard Don whisper. \n\nHe got out of the Jeep and slowly walked up to meet Ellie and Allen. There was a crowd today, the little ones, the big ones, and even the really big ones. He sighed, the music paused and the gigantic Brontosaurus turned to look at him expectantly. \n\n\"Welcome to Jurassic Park\" John bellowed. Just like he had done that first day, and just like he'd done every day for the last 10 years. \n\nThe crowd erupted in laughter. The sounds of their exuberance shaking the glass walls of Johns prison. Everyone from the smallest Compsognathus to the largest Spinosaurus were hooting, hollering, and roaring as he walked his way back to his Jeep. \n\n\"Assholes\" Dr. Hammond muttered as he began to drive home. \"Fuckin' assholes.\" ",
"\"So you've been working for years on this.\"\n\n\"Yup.\"\n\n\"You invented time travel, and decided to go forwards.\"\n\n\"Yup.\"\n\n\"You created a whole new world, an island where you filled it with all the wonders of the future world, these warm blooded things.\"\n\n\"Yup.\"\n\n\"And they're almost all small enough that you can tread on them and not notice it?\"\n\n\"Look, I never said it was a perfect plan, okay?\""
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[WP]The year is 3125, age, illness, and disease have been eradicated and wars are nonexistent. You want to know what happens after death so you stop taking your pills. You die quickly. When you wake, you find God and Satan bickering while playing a board game. They are just as confused as you are.
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"You didn't really want to stop taking your medicines, but there just...wasn't anything left to live for. You weren't truly immortal, you were fake, spurred forwards through time by compressed powder and apathy.\n\nSo when you stopped taking them, that is exactly what you posted to every account you owned.\n\nLife is fake, this isn't true immortality, we're all coasting through time on the dust we'd refuse to become.\n\nThat was that, then. And then you died, curled onto yourself in sleep, buried six feet under your covers. You didn't expect to wake up.\n\n* \"Death is nice,\" * you thought, as your body withered away, * \"peaceful, even...\" *\n\nAnd then, you woke up, to light in your aching eyes and a strange feeling of fullness, like you'd just had a six-course meal and snacks afterwards. Raising a hand to your eyes, you yawn and glance about. The room is pale white, fading to a comfortable red at the edges. The walls and floor are both adorned with gold filigree, depicting abstract figures under a tree, laying on clouds, dancing off cliffs. Not the most extravagant furnishings, considering the room you'd just died in, but most striking was a simple, 21-century plastic table, with three chairs. One of black metal and spiked adornments, one of white minky fur and soft pillows, and finally, the one the middle, made of modest oak wood with a heavy blanket laid acrost the seat.\n\nEven more striking than that were the figures seating upon the first two chairs. The first was a tall figure, lanky and misproportioned, with sickly white skin and eyes as black as the crown of horns upon his head, which would have looked much more regal had he been wearing more than just dress pants and a torn tank top. The second figure, in contrast, was short and stout, with wide arms and hips, and soft white hair flowing from Her tanned scalp. Her halo shone as bright as Her smile, eyes masked by the same gold fabric that adorned Her lacy dress, which did nothing to belie Her well-defined muscles.\n\nCurrently, both of them seemed out of sorts, and seemed to be ignoring you. * \"Good,\" * you think to yourself, getting to your feet, * \"at least I have a chance to get my bearings...\". * A quick look at yourself confirmed you were identical to before you'd started on the medication, random scars from a life well-lived scattered acrost your rather chubby form. The medication tended to take that from people. Even your hair was oily and ill-kept, hanging down limply instead of bouncing about with every turn. Your clothes, however, had changed from the t-shirt and lounge pants you'd worn my last day and you were, instead, clothed in a simple brown and green tunic with bowl-shaped metal pauldrons and gladiator-style boots.\n\nHaving confirmed you hadn't been transformed into some manner of goblin or ethereal virus, you decide to confront the other occupants of the room.\n\n\n\n\"Hello? Where am I?\"\n\n***\n\nPart two in the morning, probably. ",
"\"Pawn to E5.\" \n\n\"Wait, you can't do that.\" \n\n\"Why not?\"\n\n\"Rules of hellchess dictate that a pawn can only be moved when the demon is threatened.\" \n\n\"Wait, we're playing hellchess? I thought this was heavenchess. Then I could move as my divine being is recharging...\"\n\n\"Nope, hellchess.\"\n\nHe lay there dumbfounded, sprawled on the floor behind the stone chair which towered above him.\n\n\"Sorry to disturb you gentlemen but where am I?\"\n\n\"Gentlemen, how dare you. I am a violent man, in fact I am the violent man.\"\n\n\"Oh. Oh dear.\" The sprawled man looked to the other chair just visible from his viewpoint.\n\n\"And you kind sir. Would you be a violent man?\"\n\n\"Nay dear friend I am the peaceful man.\"\n\n\"Right. So violent and peaceful.\" The sprawled man frowned internally. \"Where am I?\"\n\n\"Purgatory!\" The violent man and the peaceful man some in unison.\n\nThe sprawled man smiled in delight. \"You mean I'm dead.\"\n\n\"Why yes of course,\" the peaceful man intoned as though this was obvious.\n\n\"Wait what.\" The violent man looked struck. \n\n\"That means that... Oh come on I was enjoying my holiday.\"\n\n\"Wait did I just say... No. You,\" the peaceful man gestured to the sprawled figure still sprawled on the floor, too uncertain of his place to move, \"leave now. We made a pact with your ancestors are jobs were fulfilled.\"\n\n\"Ummmm did you, I wasn't aware of this.\" The sprawled figure sat up.\n\n\"Yes now begone!\" The peaceful man rose from his stone throne and looked on the verge of violence.\n\n\"But I don't know how.\" \n\nThe peaceful man looked to the violent and smiled. \"Remeber how we rid ourselves of those souls before?\"\n\n\"Err,\" the violent man appeared confused. Then a thought stuck his face forming the expression of a smile. \"Do you mean...?\"\n\nThe peaceful man smirked. \"Of course.\"",
"- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -\n I. Rain, rain, go away...\n- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -\n\nQuickly my world decayed around me. My sanity slipped and the age of my body caught up to me. \n\nAs my skin melted away, so too did the walls around me. I aged a thousand years in mere seconds, the stress on the human body this process caused was akin to obliteration, incineration or something of the like. \n\nInstantly, your skin turns from a supple, smooth complexion to a rugged leather, tanned by many a year under the sun; Unbearable to even look at. \nYour teeth decompose rapidly from pearly whites to ungodly yellows and even sometimes blackened fragments. \nYour hair grows at a phenomenal rate and it's not long before it reaches past your shoulders, your abdomen, sometimes even your rear. \nIt all hurt unbearably and I wasn't prepared for the pain that radiated through my body. \n\nOur race had to never experience pain or anything like that, to me, this was a nightmare come alive and I watched it all in front of a Mirror. Everything that I was, decaying to nothing more than dust. A husk of what I used to be.\n\nThey warned me.\n\n\"Gene!--\" My mother called me Gene, short for Genesis. Most of us had dropped the mundane names that Society carried by 2213, James, Ted, Richard, Shana, Kate, Amy; All these names were no more. Genesis VII, #3386545 was my designation. Genesis Seventh was my home sector, where you'd once call Great Britain and the U.K. We all look the same and Color variants weren't around anymore. Along with that, language barriers were non existent, we all spoke 'English' as you'd call it. Even if it was all Languages combined. \"--You need to take your medication! We've lived for far too long and this blend of everything we need keeps us suspended in perpetual limbo. If you miss a dose of your 'RainX' you're done for...\" Genesis VII, #1315498 she was called. She cared a lot about me, but I was so curios what happened if I didn't buy into it. They called it Rain back around 2018 when they revealed this wonder drug.\n\nWho's they? Cicada 3301. In efforts to stop mass violence, damnation and archaic systems they along with all the Cryptographers they hired in the 1980's on wards hacked the entire Internet network. Every country, every mainframe. They revealed 'RainX' to 'Wash the Pain away.' The Government tried to shut them down, but there was no way they could. \n\nCicada 3301 bounced their worm around from satellite to satellite, from there it tunneled through every system and there was nothing that could stop it. No firewall, nothing. If you had a VPN? It'd find your system.\n\nCicada's message invoked mass hysteria in the world and everyone went BALLISTIC. Believe me, it's written in nearly every history book of our era there is. It was the turning point of Society and Man, Women and anything they identified as. It was a time of no more war, no more ailments. It was a time to focus our efforts outwards to the stars.\n\nI was sick of it. I'd just missed my dosage. \"Genesis VII, #3386545 you have missed your Dose of RainX, shall I intervene?\" My in house automated system called out; her name was Wanda. I couldn't answer her... Instead, I screamed at the top of my lungs. My flesh melted with the consistency of what felt like a thousand degrees. I was having the worst withdrawls anyone could have. \n\nAs the pain amplified and I clawed my growing nails into my cheeks, ripping the flesh apart my vision tunneled on my face. Thousands of years of Ocular Damage, staring at the sun and other things that I'd done in stupidity caught up to me. My eyes felt like hellfire. \n\nBurst! Both of my eyes erupted from my sockets and I'd fallen back onto the floor. My body hit it with a distinct thud and I contorted in extreme anguish. It wasn't long before I was dead. \n\n- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -\n II. Welcome to Heaven, Genesis.\n- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -\n\nSuddenly, the molten feeling of fire left me and I felt pleasant. It felt like the best spring day of the cycle, like I was enjoying the warm sun rays on a beach while the cool embrace of the ocean licked at my feet. I felt serene, I felt... Home. Even though I felt this pleasant atmosphere, I heard the buzz and whirrs of Arcade Machines sounding off with their title games. Everything felt... Amazing.\n\nMy eyes opened and before me my hands rose. I saw them and they were nothing like they just were. Instead of flesh clinging to bone as it stripped away and melted to the floor it was my younger complexion, the one I was most fond of. I flexed my fingers to check if they were real and every movement that happened I felt a brilliant vibration roll through me... I feel so fantastic, euphoric even...\n\n\"Genesis...\" Boomed a voice above me. I looked up to see it but a grand light beamed from the sky. I'd stared at the sun many, many times but this was nothing like it... This was something else entirely. \"Welcome... To Heaven.\" Exclaimed the voice, like it was introducing me to a new home. I felt like a lost puppy, I pulled my eyes around and seen everything I'd ever wanted.\n\nI'd always dreamed of the 80's era, back when expression became a big thing and a lot of 'Punk' rebels stepped into the attention of Society. It was cool to be an individual, it was cool to express yourself. Here? It looked exactly like that. I was dead smack in the middle of an Arcade with the roof taken off. It was non existent. Inside the Arcade were plenty of people all wearing their own outfits, no one had the same grey gowns or bar-codes tattooed on their necks with their designated zone. Everyone, was someone here. \"Where is this place?\" I asked, not knowing what I'd expect to hear, I knew I was dead. \"This is Heaven Genesis, this isn't... Anywhere... It is, and it isn't... It exists... And it doesn't. Do you get what I mean?\" I didn't, the voice was incredibly cryptic. \"To explain, it is whatever each individual greatest desired in their lives. My children come to me happy. Excuse me a moment.\" I finally was able to distinguish what the glowing white light was, it was god. My eyes adjusted to his presence and he placed a Bishop down upon a tangible Chess table he was playing. \"Checkmate.\"\n\nA thickened black mist filled the air around the white light until it too had it's own orb of a presence, within it was Lucifer Morningstar; God's child and the heir to hell's crown. \"Well I'll be damned, father. You've beat me again.\" God chuckled robustly. \"I do love the Sense of Humor you've had, son.\" The Orbs congealed together in what my guess was a father to son hug and they spun on the spot, likely turning towards me. The Chess board vanished and all the pieces cascaded to the land, splitting apart and falling. Each of the tiny fragments turned to rain as God spoke once more. \n\n\"We weren't expecting you Genesis, or I wouldn't have started the One billion, six hundred and forty two million, three hundred and eighty thousandth game of Chess.\" Satan interjected. \"And one, father... And one.\" God boomed more laughter. \"How could I forget. Anyway, Genesis. You're welcome to stay with us in your own personal Heaven, complete with any friends, family or lovers you could ever want. It was what was designed to be waiting for all my brave children that braved the hardship that is life. You see, without it, they would never truly enjoy what it is to be here with me.\" I nodded, I could understand the message. \"Tell me, Genesis...\" The rain continued to fall. \"Did you like taking Rain? I'd not planned for it to be so effective, I'd always conceived it's existence to answer the skeptics. The ones that complained that I did nothing to cure cancer and the like, but free will drove your people to complete consumption. Me, my son's and all the souls we've harbored over the years have drawn the gates closed, we've not seen death in a thousand years. We figured our job would be done, that no one would remember their father altogether. I'm glad you did.\" \n\n\"The truth is, I didn't. People have forgotten you, It's wasted on the greed of their lives and they're damned to walk the Earth forever. I'm sorry I didn't know about you.\" God returned with, \"You don't remember me?\" He look bewildered. \"How could my Children not remember the one that gave them what they always wanted, divinity and excuse from the conceived bad in the world?\" He stayed his confusion. \"This is rather displeasing.\" Lucifer interjected, his honey like voice juxtaposed the tone of God's, \"Another Plague then, father?\" God's orb of light spun, he faced his son and bobbed on the spot, he was nodding. \"Yes, I think it is the solution here. We shall start again and wipe the score.\" He smiled and looked my way, the orb of light spun on the spot. \"A Genesis... If you will, thank you for coming here. It's entirely fine my child that you don't know a thing for you may learn about everything with me, forever as we rebuild a new Utopia. We will start again, Adam, Eve. Lucifer will you play the snake again and play the Scapegoat of a thing for the people to fear?\" Lucifer's orb of darkness bobbed on the spot, he nodded. \"Certainly father. It'd be my pleasure to be a focal point, you do know I love attention...\" God's orb of light descended to the land and suddenly, a fatherly figure appeared. I can't tell you HOW it was fatherly, seeing this well of light shaped like a man... But it was. He extended a hand and touched me with it, I felt his power flow through me immensely. \"You pulled the wool from your eyes and you saw the gift that was waiting. I'm glad you are here. I'm sorry for the horror you faced, I'm sorry for the thousand year suffering. It was designed to be a kickback for the Skeptics. You, my child were never meant to face that harm.\" \n\n\"I'm not sorry. Let's start again.\" \n\n",
"Sam crawled under the door. There was a small vertical crack at the bottom, just big enough to let her through. After reaching the other side, she saw feet, and the base of a table.\n\n“Well hello there.” Giant brown eyes stared down at her. “Let’s make you a little more comfortable.”\n\nA hand the size of a bus reached down, and stroked the top of her head gently. She felt like a mouse. Not because of the size difference. She could feel a warmth in the other person’s tone, the kind of care someone who loves animals shows to one they don’t want to scare away.\n\nThe hand moved up, and she expanded with it, growing to a terrifying height. After reaching a proportional size, she could finally see the whole room.\n\nIt looked like the kitchen in her mother’s house growing up. There was a wooden table. It had benches on two sides and chairs on the other two. On the other side of the room, there was an oven and a fridge to the right of a wall of closed cabinets. They had held their dry foods back then. \n\nShe fought an impulse to go over and check if the fridge had any food, turning her glance to the table.\n\nThe brown eyes belonged to an old man with olive skin, who was wearing a fluffy pink bathrobe. \n\nThe other person at the table was a teenager with light brown skin. He was shirtless, wearing only a pair of basketball shorts. His skinny chest was covered in black-inked tattoos that moved under the surface of his skin. \n\nNeither of them appeared sure of what to say.\n\n“I’m sorry, we haven’t had visitors in a while,” the old man spoke at last. “All of our old guests have reincarnated, and new ones seemed to have stopped coming.”\n\n“Are you okay?” In his tone was that warmth she had sensed before, the kind of love you give to a lost animal. Something that you can help, even if it doesn’t fully understand. Sam knew that he knew how she had gotten there.\n\n“I’m okay. I lived a long time, and I wanted to see something new.” She shrugged. “There’s not a lot new down there anymore.”\n\nThe kid coughed, and pointed at the board. “Your move, old man.” \n\nThe board was a masterpiece. As a member of a society that spent the last thousand years reaching the heights of art and entertainment, Sam was qualified to make that judgment.\n\nAt her first glance, it was solid black. After a second of focus, she could see the lines, so dense on the board that they floated over it to make room. As if sensing her attention, it continued to expand into the air, spreading out to let her understand.\n\nIt was a grid map of the universe, with especially dense areas on Earth, Mars, and Venus, where humans lived. Those weren’t the only dense areas. In distant galaxies, she saw strange designs, creatures she had never met before.\n\nThe old man sighed at the teenager’s impatience, and pushed his hand into the dense lines, altering the flow. Only one segment was moved directly, but after that the entire field rippled and changed.\n\n“Fuck, I was hoping you didn’t see that.”\n\nThe old man laughed, then turned his attention back to Sam.\n\n“We thought your species was in a closed state. Are there others like you, that are similarly bored?”\n\n“We all are. But most of us think there’s nothing else to see after dying, so they stay for whatever small things they can find to enjoy. If I had known, I would have come earlier.”\n\n“Mmmm.” He frowned. “If I have to turn my attention back to Earth, then it will give him a foothold elsewhere.”\n\nThe teenager made his move. Unlike the old man’s move, which gently rearranged the web, he tore a segment out of it. It withered for half a foot around the wound. Sam didn’t know the scale, but the Earth itself was only two inches wide.\n\n“Send me back.”\n\n“You won’t tell them?”\n\nShe took another glance at the dense areas of the board, at the new life under assault by the gods.\n\n“I think we can find something else to do.”\n______________________________________________________\n22/365. Constructive criticism welcome and appreciated.\n",
"Note: I promise I didn't see the other submission before writing this up, but it's too late now! Worth sharing for the feedback anyway, and also really funny coincidence :)\n\n“Matt! So glad you made it!” God said, throwing his arms around me in a bear hug. His robe smelled like Gain and unconditional love. \n\n“About time.” Satan sipped on a bottomless martini as he filed the prongs on his tail. “We’ve been waiting, like, forever.”\n\nGod scolded Satan for being a spoil sport as he sat down a white table with three white chairs. We were in the center of a colorless room with no windows and no doors, yet it was inexplicably bright.\n\n“This might be a dumb question, but.... are we in Heaven or Hell?”\n\n“Ah, we would be in Hell,” God said as he began passing slips of paper around the table.\n\nI scowled and circled around the room. Weird. \n\nSatan scoffed and rolled his eyes. “What were you expecting, lakes of fire and a Hellen Keller joke battle?”\n\nI shrugged. “Yeah, sort of.”\n\n“Typical.” Satan took a long sip of his drink, then sighed. “So you staying or what?”\n\nI paused, unsure of what to say. Did I really have a choice?\n\n“I knew you’d be coming soon, so I went ahead and dealt you in.” God smiled at me, reassuringly. His gaze felt like snuggling a hundred towels fresh out of the dryer. Maybe Hell wasn’t so bad of a place. I mean, God was here after all.\n\n“Okay, sure. I’ll play.” I took the empty seat next to God. “What game is it?”\n\n“Monopoly!” God continued dealing, counting the pastel bills under his breath. “We’re just wrapping up our current game - one we started with an old buddy of mine, Adam.\" \n\nMy stomach started doing somersaults. “You-you mean like Adam and Eve?\"\n\nSatan grinned knowingly. \n\n\"Yes, exactly!\" God shouted. \"Do you know Adam too? He's also from Earth! He and his wife are just so lovely. They used to join us for dinner parties, but I haven’t seen them in a while. Weird.”\n\nI felt the blood drain my face. \n\nSatan roared in malicious laughter as I realized what this meant. They had been playing the same game of Monopoly for nearly 5 billion years.\n\nTurns out there are no get out of jail free cards in Hell.\n",
"\"No! You can't do that!\"\n\n\"What do you mean? We made that deal decades ago.\"\n\n\"Me-dammit, I'm getting the rule book.\"\n\n\"Fine, go a... Hey, look over there.\"\n\nMy eyes were still adjusting but I could make out two figures making their way towards me. My heart raced. Maybe I was hallucinating? Is this maybe a side effect of not taking the pills? The figures started to become more defined; a man in a black suit, red tie and shirt with jet black hair was standing beside a man in a white suit and a light blue tie and shirt with white hair.\n\n\"Is that... what I think it is?\"\n\n\"He Lucy. It's a male.\"\n\n\"Please don't call me that.\" \n\n\"Welcome mortal! What the hell happened to you? Aren't you guys not dying nowadays?\" The man in the white suit was directing the question to me.\n\n\"Well, uh, sort of. Where am I?\" Looking around there was nothing but a table and two chairs. Everything else was essentially an endless white fog.\n\n\"You're in purgatory.\" The black suit said.\n\n\"Yeah, so, what gives? Why are you here?\" White suit was very excitable, and kind of rude.\n\n\"I just stopped taking my pills. I went to bed and then, well, woke up here.\" When I looked down I was startled to find myself in a white one piece jumpsuit. \"What is this?\"\n\n\"That's his design.\" Pointing to white suit. \"Sorry about that. You a suit man?\" The black suit snapped his fingers and I was suddenly in a very nice black suit, fit very well.\n\n\"So I'm dead then I guess?\" They looked at each other and nodded. \"And... you guys are... God and Satan?\"\n\nThey nodded again. \n\n\"So... can I go back?\"\n\n\"Well, now, you see, we can't quite do that. It's not really in our list of abilities and you really wouldn't want to anyway because then people start to worship you and...\"\n\n\"They cremated your body Ian, there is nothing to send you back to.\" Satan looked over at God. \"You know very well we could have.\"\n\nThey started to bicker, but that was fine, it gave me a minute to think. I'm dead. Well... shit, guess I'm stuck here now. I tried to stop their arguing a few times, but with no success. My eyes were drawn to the table a few feet away so I made my way towards it. To my surprise, there was a game of monopoly ongoing. \n\n\"Guys!\" I turned and yelled at them, finally getting their attention. \"If I'm here forever, can I be the hat?\"\n\n\n\n"
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