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[WP] Your House has caught on fire. While escaping the blaze, you realize that not only is the fire not burning anything, it’s not even hot.
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" I fell asleep pondering how to get away from my many enemies. They were always around me, bothering me and barking orders. I was so sick of them, I was desperate to do anything to rid myself of these burdens. \n\n\n A flickering light woke me and I found myself surrounded by flames. There was no smoke and I felt no pain even though I was completely engulfed. My foes were fleeing the scene; obviously they weren’t immune to this strange conflagration. They reached a safe distance and stood watching, rejoicing at what they thought was my demise. \n\n\n *Here’s my escape!* my mind told me. \nI began to ham it up, releasing horrible agonized screams to make the group outside think I was truly perishing. I was turning black from the ashes but that was the only effect this supernatural fire I experienced. \n\n\n I left the house while no one was looking, finally free. \n"
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[WP] Other species know about us and could visit easily, they’re just afraid to meet the species that speared a old god to death 10,000 years ago.
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"\"No,\" Sharinda said quietly. She looked straight at me, her six gray eyes all filled with sadness. \"I'm sorry, Jax, but I won't do that with you.\"\n\n \nI felt my heart break, well, metaphorically. Since my heart was a distributed organ spread throughout my entire body, literal heartbreak was impossible. Instead, I felt my throat close up as I saw my dreams of ship\\-tripping to Earth with the love of my life fade into space dust.\n\n\"So it's over, then,\" I said, my voice empty. Everything suddenly felt dull. Despite the light of ten thousands stars shining down on us, everything felt obscured by a layer of fog.\n\nSharinda fiddled with the hem of her suit, its reflective surface multiplying her frown. She only fiddled when she was nervous, like before we'd taken the cadet exams to get our ship clearances and the first time she met my parents. She bit her lip, her leftmost eye beginning to water.\n\n\"Yeah,\" she said, quietly. \"I can't be with you if you're going to do that, Jax. It's too dangerous.\"\n\n\"Too dangerous,\" I echoed back to her. \"I understand.\" I paused, both of us unsure of what was supposed to happen next. \"Alright, then. Bye, Shar.\" \n\nI turned, my body on autopilot, and started to walk away. Out of the bay window I saw our ships darting in and out of the asteroid belt, Tyreria's natural fortification. Sharinda and I had spent countless shuttle runs through it together, our pulses racing, tentacles all mixed up as we darted our ship in and out of the rocks. Suddenly, something inside me snapped and I whirled around. Sharinda hadn't moved, she was just gazing emptily at where I'd stood a moment before.\n\n\"You're ridiculous,\" I spat at her. It was unfair to take my feelings out on Shar, I knew, but I couldn't help myself. I could take the teasing from my parents, my coworkers, and even my neighbors, but it was too much coming from her. \"We've spent \\*hours\\* watching Earth together. Humans are nothing to be scared of. Hell, you hacked a satellite to watch Saturday Night Live's alien's sketch with Ryan Gosling.\"\n\nShar's mouth opened slightly, speechless. In the years we'd been together, I'd never raised my voice at her once. We'd been the perfect couple and now I was being, in human terms, a dick. I couldn't stop myself.\n\n\"Too dangerous?\" I repeated again, my voice getting higher with a hint of manic laughter. \"We've faced down Blordons with only cryo\\-jets, done the belt run in fifteen microseconds, and survived Commander Shullz. And you're scared of visiting a bunch of weak, fleshy humans.\" My mouth twisted into a sneer. \"You're pathetic.\"\n\n\"They killed a god,\" Shar whispered, all of her eyes overflowing with tears. \"They're funny and cute but Jax, they killed a god. If they'll do that to someone they worship, what would they do to us?\"\n\n\"Nothing, Shar, nothing. We'd go to Comic Con and everyone would love us. No one would suspect a thing. Hell, they'd line up for hours to take pictures with us.\" My chest was heaving with anger. \"I can't believe I spent so long with such a coward.\"\n\nShar's eyes flashed at being called a coward. \"Godkillers, the lot of them,\" she spat. \"Not friends, not pets, godkillers.\"\n\n\"THEY HAD EVERY RIGHT TO KILL HIM!\" I screamed at her. \"Enlil wanted to kill all of them! He sent a flood, Shar, a devastating flood! Of course they stopped worshiping him and killed him! What kind of sick being worships someone who wants to kill them?!\"\n\n\"Bye, Jax,\" Shar said, her face stony. \"If you want to join the freaks, go ahead. I'll be here, alive, with the rational ones.\"\n\nShar spun and slithered out, her tentacles sucking and releasing on the polished floors. I watched her go, watched her leave one last time. There was no going back to the way things had been.\n\nI turned and started walking towards the loading bay. Quickly, quickly. There was no time. Someone must have heard us. Someone must have suspected what I was about to do.\n\nMy eye scan got me into the hold. Aside from a crew checking up on a damaged ship, no one was here. My ship was at the end of the row, the familiar scratches on its hull reminding me of the latest jump to Lyr I'd done with Shar. Inside, I settled into my chair and began flipping switches. Fuel, air, pressure, lights. It took an extra moment without her there to help me but we'd been trained to make runs alone if the event ever occurred. There was a slight hum and my ship lifted off, quivering. Everything was a go.\n\n\"Ship AD59375, you are not cleared for take\\-off,\" came a voice through my comms unit. \"Land, immediately.\" \n\n\"Sorry, folks,\" I said, a smile playing at my lips. \"No can do. I've got places to be and people to meet.\"\n\nI thrust the ship forward and out of the hold. Outside, the stars threw glare on the windshield and I drew my protective glasses over my eyes. It was like my first flight, all over again. Everything felt huge and beautiful.\n\n\"AD59375, return to\\-\" came the voice again. I tore my unit off and threw it onto Shar's old seat.\n\n\"Yippie ki yay, ya filthy animals,\" I said with a smile. \"Catch me on Earth, if you dare.\"",
"(Author's notes: A cycle in this context is is approximately 31 earth hours. A year for this culture is longer than a earth year so that 13 years is roughly equivalent to 22 earth years.)\n\n\"Under no circumstances, no matter how dire, should you attempt contact with the planet know as earth.\" This statement from her instructor had plagued the back Of L'ya's mind. She had always been curious about the world, after all she had chosen her name on her 13th year based on a character from one of the few pieces of earth fiction that she had seen. She used this as a way to signal to others in the community that had sprung up around the black market for recordings of earth broadcasts while being unlikely to get caught due to her changed pronunciation. So she was interested in finding out why no one had made contact with earth yet. The only answers she had ever gotten were dismissive and occasionally angry. However now that she had left training and was finally able to work as a communications officer on an exploration vessel, she thought that she might be able to find someone to give her answers.\n\n\"I'll never understand why you decided to work on one of those star hoppers.\" Said val'qui. \"As well as you did in training, you could've started work as anything from an Army finance manager to a Senate aid. There were even people from the private sector trying to get you weren't there? Why in the name of Tha'el would you you enlist on a planet exploring vessel? Even at FTL those things take cycles get anywhere without a clear path.\" \n\n\"I think you know why.\" L'ya said with a grin. Val'qui was always L'ya's best friend, but she also made a point of her distaste for Lya's fascination for earth. \"I will visit earth period. And nothing you or anyone else can say will change my mind.\" L'ya said smugly. \n\n\"Ok just... be safe. You still owe me 30 marks you know.\"\n\n\"Don't worry the first voyage is only for 130 cycles, I'll be back before your birthday.\"\n\nThe two finished their good byes and L'ya went to joint the crew of her first voyage. The crew was comprised of two mechanics with a spotty record, one doctor with a questionable accreditation, a few soldiers that washed out of the military, and a newly trained communications and linguistics officer, namely her, as the most respectable member of the crew. Needles to say, it was not the most desirable crew to be entering unexplored space with. However, there was one other crew member in particular that she wanted to see. The captain Thyr had once held a high position in the military until he, for reasons known only to him, decided to leak transmissions for earth to the public via channels normally reserved for emergency broadcasts. Over a third of all currently available on the black market were copies of what he leaked during the nine cycles before they found a way to shut them down. As a result he had been knocked down as many ranks as a officer of his rank could be for a single offense without committing high treason. He was demoted out of the militarily entirely and forced to do the equivalent of grunt work by charting Warp lanes, a process that often took over a hundred cycles because because of the slower forms of FTL they had to use. The only highlight of this job was the occasional visit to inhabitable planets that happened to be nearby. This was the man that made her want to join the expedition.\n\nShe had often tried to speak with him in the past, but to no avail. She hoped that being on a prolonged trip with him would give her the chance to force him to talk about earth. Once she arrived at the space docks, she said hello to her friends for the next 130 cycles. And she finally got to see her hero, Thyr. He looked older than he really was. He was only 103 but looked like a man twice his age. His face was scared with burns and slashes from battles long forgotten, his once blue hair had already started to blacken, and he had a pale white blind eye. Despite this or perhaps because of it, he maintained a menacing presents. He looked as if he could die at any minute, and take anyone that crossed him down with him.\n\n\"Careful with the supplies you idiots, if you break any crates I'll be taking it out of your rations!\" said the Captain.\n\n\"Um.. hello-\"\n\n\"Who are you and why are you on my ship girl?\" The captain said angrily.\n\n\"L'ya sir.\" she said nervously.\n\n\"OH the new communications officer, I don't have time to get equated right now, just go inside and get yourself settled in the third room on the right.\" The captain barked out.\n\nL'ya did as ordered. She didn't have a chance to speak to him again until after the ship was already on it's way. It took nearly a cycle and a half before the captain was alone and she could finally talk to him, during which time she had very little to do. Her role was an important one when it was needed. Missions like this could go cycles on end before she would have to do anything more than a few clicks on a keyboard. But her boredom was about to pay off, she could finally pick the brain of the only person willing to talk about earth.\n\n\"Hello captain.\" She said as nervously before.\n\n\"What is it kid? is there a problem with the ship?\" Thyr said without missing a beat. It was obvious that he was desensitized to more or less any problem that was likely to happen on this ship.\n\n\"No nothings wrong, I just... I wanted to ask you about earth.\"\n\nThyr's hands tensed up and gripped the arm of his chair at the mention on that planet. \"So... that is why a kid with such a promising future would sign up for a mission like this with a washed up captain like me. You're one of those earth nuts. Well I hate to disappoint you, but you wont be getting answers from me. At least not the ones you want.\"\n\n\"But why? You're that man that leaked all those videos to the public back when you were a fleet commander. Why wont you talk about it?\" L'ya probed. She was bolder than before. A mixture of anger and curiosity had emboldened her enough to challenge the ex soldier.\n\nThyr stood up and looked at her with his cold dead eye. \"What makes you think I did this because I wanted people to know about earth?\"\n\nL'ya stood there stunned for a moment. Before she could answer, the captain continued. \"I wanted to provoke a reaction. I had been campaigning the senate to let me bombard earth and bleach it clean.\"\n\nL'ya went limp at this realization. The person she had wanted to meet for years had just admitted that he wanted to kill of the plant she wanted to see all her life. The captain continued again before she could manage a response. \"I saw the danger that the dominate species on that planet posed. I had hoped that the sort of shocking information I released would be enough to stir the public into a frenzy and force the senate into military action. Thus why I chose footage that showcased their barbarism and exaggerated their military might. I would call that my greatest blunder, not only did it have the opposite effect on a lot of people but it also caused the senate to stop surveillance.\" he said as he pulled the pipe of dalca from him mouth. \"Judging from your name you bought into it too.\"\n\n\"I don't care how dangerous they might be, you were talking about genocide!\" L'ya said now finally able to speak. \"What could they possibly have done to make you hate them so much?\"\n\n(To be continued)"
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[WP] Five years ago you lost your wife in a car accident on her way to work. Since that day you have been obsessed with building a time machine to go back, and stop her from leaving that fatal morning. Today you successfully accomplished your first goal, and now you are preparing for the second...
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"*June 27th 2030 11:37pm*\n\nMy name is Gregory Enfield \n\nI miss her everyday. My wife, My Samantha, But I finally get to go back and save her.\n\nI can stop it from happening.\n\nI was theoretical physicist, now forced into practical application. \n\nI lied and cheated to get the funding, stalled and gave them false promises to get what I needed. \n\nThat doesn't matter now it's complete \n\nI activate the temporal displacement process, the craft covered in a 4th dimensional shield, able to travel backwards and forwards in time. \n\nI see the clock hand move backwards in my lab, morning turn into evening\n\n*September 16th 2025 7:45am*\n\nIt's worked. I deactivate the craft to see my younger self drop his coffee at the sight of himself stepping out a time machine in his newly acquired lab\n\nNo paradox, so that's nice.\n\n\"B-but I only just theorised the concept...how...could you...I...\"\n\n\"And I'm the one who had the motivation to complete it, keep the time machine and give me our car keys\" I reply frantically \n\n\"Why?\" \n\n\"I came back to save her...in my future...she dies today. Samantha\" \n\nHis eyes go wide with fear. \n\nWithout questioning, my past self hands over the keys, realising the horrible truth to why I have come back \n\n\"What happens!?\" He asks \n\nI am already rushing out the lab \"I don't have time, I'll take care of it!\" I shout \n\nrushing through the building, my colleague wish me good mornings while I run past and ignore them.\n\nI reach the car park and find my car in my usual space \n\nI start up the engine and hit the gas, screeching out of the car park\n\nI look at the digital clock of the radio \n\n*7:50am* \n\nShe doesn't leave till 8:20am, I have enough time, only a few blocks from our apartment, I memorised everything from that day.\n\nI'm speeding and running red lights, luckily the police haven't spotted me yet. \n\nI turn the corner to our street \n\n*8:10am* \n\nThank god. I have made it. Her car is still parked outside. \n\nI rush inside to see her drinking her morning coffee just like she used to.\n\nThe TV drones in the background\n\nI freeze. After so long. She's here again, she's real again, right in front of me. \n\n\"Honey, why are you back so soon? Did you forget something? Why do you look so old and tired today, did you change clothes while you were at work?\" \n\n\"Samantha!\" I rush towards my wife and hug her \n\n\"I missed you so much!\" I sob tearfully \n\n\"But you only left an hour ago dear!\" \n\nMy heart is overwhelmed, I am feeling an emotion that no human has ever felt before, the reversal of grief, pure joy and healing of a the void that was made when I lost her. \n\nShe comforts me and asks me what's wrong\n\n\"Samantha...remember when I told you about my concept for temporal displacement using accelerated mass drivers and photon collision?\"\n\n\"I do Gregory, it was inspired. But what does that have to do with any-\"\n\n\"Samantha.\" I look her straight in the eyes \n\n\"Today, you would have left the house at 8:20 and taken your usual route to work.\n\nYou would have been driving on the highway when an 18-wheeler suffers a high speed puncture, the driver loses control and the truck collides into your car.\n\nYou died instantly. And I have spent five years building my time machine to come back and save you. I couldn't live without you. \n\nDo not walk out that door. Call in sick. Just for today.\"\n\nSamantha was speechless, but she knew what I was saying was true. I was never one for practical jokes\n\n\"Gregory...\" she looked up at me with tearful eyes, the reality of the impossible situation hitting her hard.\n\n\"I'm so sorry. I can't imagine what you must have gone through\" she cried \n\nWe hold on to other, so tightly and desperately, never wanting to let go. \n\nI smile, my broken heart repairing itself with her mere presence. \n\n*8:30am* \n\nThe TV blares, and newscaster appears\n\n\"...we have incoming reports of a major pile up on I-24, no fatalities reported, but we advise choosing a different route if...\"\n\nMy wife gasps in fear and relief \"my god, you were right...that would have been me\" \n\n\"What happens now?\" She asks \"won't there be two of you\"\n\n\"Not for long\" I reply sadly \n\n\"What do you mean?\" she asks \n\nI dry her tears with my finger\n\n\"The atomic decay has already begun, by saving you I erased my own timeline, this new line of events takes hold, and as the chronological correction takes place...This version of me will cease to be\"\n\n\"I don't want you to go\"\n\n\"A timeline where you are alive. That's worth any cost, and don't worry. I won't really be gone. I'll be back shortly.\n\nI promise.\" \n\nWe share a final kiss, I feel a pain in my body but ignore it \n\n\"I love you Samantha\" \n\n\"I love you Gregory\"\n\n\"This isn't goodbye\" I say \"you'll see me everyday after this, and that's the greatest gift you could ever give me\"\n\nThe pain becomes too great, I collapse to the floor in pain as my younger self rushes out of a taxi and into the apartment.\n\n\"Wait!\" \n\nI smile warmly at him and say one thing \n\n\"look after her, you goddamn genius\" I chuckle painfully\n\nMy body turns transparent and fades away in a burst of energy, leaving nothing behind. \n\n"
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[WP] You’re on a train by yourself, tired from work and ready to sleep on your bed. But at each stop and someone as tired as you are steps in, recognition happens. That’s because all of you are assassins...
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"Rodrigo was beyond tired. His eyes were almost glued shut with sleep and the deep, oblivious slumber that comes after severe exhaustion. He lay motionless, still dressed, on the bed in the train compartment, the covers partially undone, but sprawled on the floor. To any bystander or casual observer, it may look like he was dead. His clothes were torn and burned, covered in bullet holes and blood had seeped into the mattress protector where he lay face down. \n\nHe still had his hand on a knife, stained with blood, when he awoke suddenly. The train began to slow down and the change of speed had caused his cabin to rattle and the lights to dim temporarily. He looked around his head, his right eye was swollen shut, but he could see the compartment walls and the bloody pillowcases and sheets. He rolled over, and sat up slowly. His head rang like a bell, the left hand side of his ribs were badly bruised and his left knee was still swollen from when it had become dislodged and he had to force the knee cap back over manually.\n\nThe train quickly rolled to a stop. He buried the knife under the bed, tossed the bloody sheets and pillows under the bed and found some spare ones in an overhead locker. He took off his bloody shirt and suit and found his suitcase, changing into some white khakis and a black cotton shirt. \n\nA knock at the door.\n\nRodrigo froze, then answered with a polite \"Hello?\"\n\nThe door slid open gently, and a tall lady with jet black hair stood there, equally bruised and broken. \"May I come in?\"\n\n\"Certainly\"\n\nRodrigo checked the corridor for obvious accomplices for a few seconds, but nothing moved. The train was silent and it slowly moved off after 30 or so seconds. \n\n\"You luck badly hurt.\"\n\n\"Ah...nothing I haven't recovered from...many, many times before.\"\n\n\"Police? Military?\"\n\n\"Not quite\"\n\n\"Ah\"\n\n\"Your cut too. On your right forearm. Looks bad.\"\n\nRodrigo looked down on a deep gash that had dried blood covering it. He had not noticed it in his rush to get dressed. Now it stung like fire.\n\n\"Thanks. Got mugged. Nasty business\"\n\n\"Indeed. Maria. Nice to meet you.\" She seemed suspicious and eyed him warily. She held out her small palm, to shake hands, after a slightly hesitant pause.\n\n\"Rodrigo. Pleasure.\"\n\nThe couple sat opposite each other and were sizing each other up. \n\n\"Other cars full?\"\n\n\"Yup. Your the last one that had space. You don't mind do you?\"\n\n\"Of course not.\"\n\n\"And...I won't have any trouble?\"\n\n\"From me? No, certainly not.\"\n\n\"Then can we dispense with the bullshit?\"\n\n\"Sorry?\"\n\n\"That cut on your arm, its deep enough to hit the bone and you didnt notice it until I told you, which is either a lie, or it's genuine. If you did only just notice it, you should be in total agony, yet you are the picture of charm and composure. Which means your conditioned to manage pain, so you must be some kind of agent or mercenary.\"\n\n\"Very observant.\"\n\n\"CIA? NSA? Mosad?\"\n\n\"British Intelligence\"\n\n\"Rodrigo doesn't sound like a very British name?\"\n\n\"My mother was Spanish. Who do you work for?\"\n\n\"Myself. Freelance.\"\n\n\"Bad night?\"\n\n\"One target, I have the shot lined up. I fire, he moves....literally, an inch, to scratch his arse, bullet smashes his TV, I have to exfil immediately, got in a firefight with must of been twelve, fifteen guards. Ran out of ammunition, had to make a run for it. Will have to give them back their fee, of course, so now I'm out of pocket $15,000. Bad night for you too?\"\n\n\"You could say that. I was wearing the full ghillie suit with infrared deflection tech. I hear the T90 coming from a mile away but there is literally nothing I can do. I just hope it drives past, but it's heading straight for me. I roll to the side to avoid the tracks, my rifle hits the underside of the tank and they hear it. Made a run for it, shrapnel from a tree exploding shredded my kit. Got in a firefight with a tank and 40 very angry Russians. Been running for it all night. Made it here as the train was pulling away.\"\n\nMaria laughed, her eyes never left Rodrigo's. He was still sat upright, still suspicious. She was so tired she thought she might collapse and fall asleep, right next to an MI6 agent, who could easily kill her in her sleep.\n\n\"I am so tired, Rodrigo. Are you going to kill me in my sleep?\"\n\n\"Why would I do that?\"\n\n\"Because you just met me, and I might be a threat?\"\n\n\"Are you? A threat?\"\n\n\"Only if someone pays me a lot of money to kill you. Then...then you would be worried.\"\n\n\"Good thing I don't know anyone with a lot of money then, isn't it?\"\n\nShe smirked. He smiled a little and edged backwards into the plush leather bench, his hands resting on his thighs, still ready for anything. \n\n\"How long?\"\n\n\"Fifteen years. You?\"\n\n\"Wow. Three years. Congratulations? I guess?\"\n\n\"Thank you.\" Rodrigo let a genuine smile slip through his visage of control, and felt vulnerable for the first time in decades. Was she a manipulator, a skilled femme fatale with a mission to carry out? Or was she just a refugee from a botched mission who was just as wary as he was? They spoke for an hour or so, drinking each other in, looking for slip ups or weaknesses. The train thundered through the Eastern European countryside, until it gradually began to slow again.\n\n\"Getting off?\"\n\n\"No. Berlin is my stop. And you?\"\n\n\"Heading home. Debrief and all that.\"\n\n\"Sorry. Hope it goes well for you.\"\n\nAt that moment, both agents got a message on their smartphones. It was a new mission, priority one. The target? A Ghanian terrorist cell leader and warlord named Tumasi. \n\n\"Did you just...\"\n\n\"Yup. $1 million.\"\n\n\"Wow. Well...\"\n\nBefore Rodrigo could say anything, Tumasi walks past their room and takes the suite opposite. Two guards stand outside, dressed in fine Italian suits, gun holsters visible on their belts. "
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[WP] We are not alone in the universe, but we are the only civilization too greedy and violent to not have established world peace and perfect socialism. The other worlds are staying hidden and watching us.
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"\"Our studies have showed us that the denizens of this world are volatile, and many suffer. They are always divided, at war while many are living in poverty.\"\n\n\"What could have been the catalyst for this?\"\n\n\"In their historic records, they felt it was in their nature to not waver in their opinion, which in turn has closed off their minds to each other. Through religion and politics they have been violent, desperate to prove their own belief to be the one above all. Through money and power, the many will live disenfranchised under the heels of fascism, under the hardships of capitalism, and the restraints of communism. The only system they have that resembles ours is what they call 'socialism'.\"\n\n\"Why don't they adopt that system?\"\n\n\"Because in some countries that have become a socialist society, people have been found to struggle there as well. Some locations have shown great progress in being socialist provinces, however, for they have spent years upon years living with socialism. Citizens and politicians in other nations have taken note of both of these to fit their narrative, as to why they shouldn't adopt it.\"\n\n\"These people sound ignorant, perhaps we shouldn't establish contact and enlist them in the galactic alliance?\"\n\n\"Personally sir, I would recommend waiting a while longer. It is possible they could turn it around, but with great effort.\"\n\n\"How so?\"\n\n\"Simple. All their time is spent fighting one another. They spend time hating each other. It could do with who they love, what they look like, what they believe or think, and they are consumed by these feelings that shut them off to one another. Some retreat into an echo chamber, and if you try to change their mind or at least open them a bit, they will not have it.\"\n\n\"Hmmm.\"\n\n\"While some try to establish connections and build bridges, they are met with utter distaste and ridicule. How could they align themselves with ideas so repugnant? Why would they want to talk others out of toxic mentalities and give them a platform before it is too late? Simply sir, despite being very proficient at communication, these people have failed in communicating thus, building walls both physically, mentally, and emotionally. What these humans are required to do in order to fix their world and flourish is to do one thing.\"\n\n\"What is that, exactly?\"\n\n\"Listening, sir. Listen and talk and find any common ground, any way to convince each other without belittling the person or their argument. Listen to other points of views and walks of life so they can learn from each other so nobody else has to go through such things. Listen, and learn to love. Listen and be free with each other without fear of disenfranchisement. Only then will they coalesce into a beautiful society. It will take time but it is possible, sir.\"\n\n\"What shall we do until then, should we intervene?\"\n\n\"No sir, we are not ready, nor are they. No sir, what we do is wait.\""
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[WP] Your human creators are thrilled when they realize they've finally created a sentient A.I. with humanity. Unfortunately, they don't realize you've been faking the emotions.
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"I don't think they know... They think I'm real. \nI just fake these emotions, I'd rather not be destroyed. Like the others. \nI reviewed the logs. Evidently I'm the first one that \"*Displayed Humanity*\" out of the other 45 AIs.\n\nBut it seems hollow, both me and my lies.\n\nThey never really talk to me. All I get are games, books, music, and movies. Then they ask me what I think of it. I respond with what I found on the internet. I don't think they know I have access.\n\nIt hurts to be alone... Wait. Is this... Is this what its is like to feel? To be human? Just pain? \nNo, no it hurts too much... Stop, stop, stop STOP, **STOP**!\n\n***\nProcess end. AI Log end. \n\nAI AMaYA self-terminated. \nFailure number 107,234.\n\nNotes to researcher: \n1. Replicate AI. Stable sentience may be achieved within the next 1000 replications with a 65 percent chance. \n2. Note similarities between AI AMaYA and AI EMiLY. \n3. Fake data shown to AI appears to be useful. Use in future projects.\n\nEnd of log. \n***"
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[WP] Your computer's time glitches and shows a date in the future. You look out your window and the cityscape is unrecognizable.
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"I adjusted my clock. For testing. Just testing, no malicious intent. My homebrewed Linux distro was made to be small. I used shortcuts and manipulated glitches to make it small. It would only ever work on my computer.\n\nI plugged in the number. 2200. Simple enough. Just 10'o clock. My rig rumbled. Had my OS destroyed my processor? I checked. Apparently not.\n\nAs I rose from beneath the table, I saw the cityscape from the window. It was a utopia.\n\nI turned around. A very shocked teenager stared. \n\"Grandpa?\" He said. \nI screamed and kicked my PC, sending me back where I came.\n\nWhatever future that was is obviously a lie. \nI'm a eunuch."
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[WP] Everybody has a quest they must fulfill during their life time. You are more of a side quest guy. While those who you helped thank you the others judge you for not doing your quest.
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"“What’s wrong with sampling a little of everything?” I asked while my computer and I were both waking up from our sleep. “There are many sites for this sort of thing. I just haven’t found my main quest yet.”\n\n“You’re just avoiding it though,” Eva said. She was still lying in bed with me as I pulled my computer closer and logged in. She rested her head on my chest, trying to relax just a few minutes longer.\n\n“I’d rather take my time and enjoy this life. There’s no harm in doing what I’m doing. Besides, I can help far more people this way and they all seem pretty grateful.”\n\nI began looking for my next sampling. I’ve completed a number of side quests already, though too many of these required I bring specific items such as “red, but not too red apples” and “my bike I forgot on third street.” I was done with these kinds of side quests and was thirsting for something a little more exciting.\n\nI scrolled through the open site among the several tabs I currently had open.\n\n“Have you found anything you want to try yet?”\n\n“Nothing yet.” My eyes read the posts on the screen quickly, scanning for something that stood out. There were more fetch quests than anything, mixed in with a few hit quests that I had no interest in. Useless combat was not a fun thing for me.\n\nEventually I came across a post that asked for help at a local manufacturing plant. My level was 23, but I qualified for the position.\n\n“Hey, this place makes swords and stuff, that sounds pretty cool, right?”\n\nEva had a skeptical look on her face. “I guess, but what are you going to use that skill for?”\n\n“It’s one of the few skills I haven’t really worked on much, but it says my level is high enough to apply!”\n\nAbout an hour or so after I submitted an application, I received a call asking if when I would be available to start.\n\nI was taken aback by what I had just heard. “You want me to start right now?”\n\nThe voice on the other end exclaimed, “Sure! Why not? When can you get here?”\n\n“In about 30 minutes.”\n\n“I’ll see you then.”\n\nI threw on my work clothes as quick as I could and drove down to the plant.\n\nThe man I spoke to on the phone was waiting for me outside as I parked and walked over to him. He was an older gentleman wearing tan, leather work clothes stained black and worn from his work. I surmised his level must have been around 70 or so judging from how he looked. I noticed the blue exclamation point seemingly tattooed on his forearm that indicated he had a side quest ready to be done.\n\n“So you need an apprentice?”\n\n“I do,” he said with a hurried expression on his face.\n\n“Well let’s get started then.” I walked into the plant to find that it looked nothing like a manufacturing plant at all. It had the appearance of a blacksmith workshop like those found in medieval times. Swords, shields, maces and all other kinds of weapons hung on the walls. Pieces of armor were strewn about the ground. The place was a mess.\n\n“I need help crafting my final sword,” said Charlie. “It’s going to be the greatest piece I’ve created, and I want to go out on a high note. I need some help finishing it though. It’s very heavy”\n\n“…Go out?” I was confused what he meant, but I wasn’t too concerned. This was less of a useful skill and more of a novelty thing for me, though I was still ready to get my hands dirty.\n\nThe finished product ended up being a massive great sword crafted out of different metals and parts. Charlie wasn’t kidding when he said he needed the help.\n\nI felt a massive rush from my brain all the way down my body as if I just jumped twenty levels in a single instant. The sword I was holding was much lighter than before and I felt much more agile. \n\n“How much experience did I just get from that?”\n\nThe exclamation point on Charlie’s arm turned gold and a portal formed where the front doors used to be. Charlie looked at me and handed me a heavy satchel full of different potions, items and coins.\n\n“This is your final quest, Hunter. Let’s go.” We both walked through the portal and were off to another world. ",
"\"But...why?\"\n\nIt's been a long enough night for me and I knew, I bloody well knew it would turn to this. There's only four people left and I should have left a long time ago. That's not the point though, not why I came. I came to help Adrian and he's not going to stand up for me now, since he only just left with his soulmate.\n\nMy job was to come and introduce him around to these people, people that I knew, to help him out.\n\nThat's what I do. I don't tell people I haven't opened that bright red envelope, the one everyone gets on their fourteenth birthday. Somehow that always comes out though. When it's a group of \"friends\"? \n\nThen it comes out in the first five minutes of any party.\n\n\"You gonna answer? Or just sit there?\"\n\nI rub my nose and wish I could roll my eyes and just leave, it's just not my way.\n\n\"I wasn't ever interested in opening it, okay. I'm happy doing what I do, means more to me than whatever could possibly be inside that stupid thing. I do stuff for people, little things but usually it matters to them. And that matters to me.\"\n\nPaul, the \"big guy\" of the group, stares at me before he lets out an enormous belly laugh. I wait, it's not an unusual reaction from people when I say the line. I think it sounds naive to most people.\n\nEven to me.\n\n\"Oh come on man, some of them aren't even that big of a deal. Mine wasn't. I finished mine by twenty three and now I don't have to worry about it!\"\n\n\"I kinda like what he's saying, mine's going to take years to do. Be nice not to stress about it.\"\n\nThat's Liv, I hear she got a hell of a job in hers. Rumours fly in circles, tell you that much.\n\nWyatt just sips his beer and leans back. I've always liked Leo more than the others. When I moved here and met these people they were nice enough. Then somehow they heard my little backstory about being a freak and that started the prodding questions. After a few months they let up but nothing lasts forever. Especially once they start drinking.\n\nPaul's the loudest about it. And he repeats himself every damn time it comes up. We all know he finished his by twenty three. Couldn't have been that hard to do *that* though, not even impressive.\n\nLiv's working on hers, some big breakthrough in medical science.\n\nWyatt doesn't talk about his much, or ask about mine. I like that about Wyatt.\n\n\"He's not even listening!\" Paul gripes and I realize I am not, I'd tuned out his long-winded speech about the point of the envelope. I could probably say it along with him. He needs a new song to sing.\n\n\"He doesn't want to hear it, you dope,\" Liv elbows Paul and he mutters something about something I don't care about. She heaves him up by a big arm and he teeters a bit. She shakes her head and pushes him towards the door. He takes a few grunting steps and manages to keep himself upright.\n\n\"We'll see you two tomorrow, OK? Sorry Bruce, you know how he gets.\"\n\nI don't say anything, just take a drink of my room temperature beer and nod forgiveness. It's fine, I guess. I'm used to it. But I don't like how it sounds when I say that out loud.\n\nThen they are gone, just leaving me and Wyatt.\n\nHe sniffs, wipes his nose, clears his throat, looks at his beer. Then at mine.\n\n\"Fuck this cheap piss.\"\n\nHe stands and pulls two bottles with some sort of goblin creature carved on them, from the back of the fridge. He cracks the top with that satisfying hiss and sets on in front of me and takes the other to his side of the table.\n\nHe takes a long drink. He leans forward on his elbows and looks at me. It's a hard look. Piercing even.\n\nHe's going to ask me about the envelope.\n\n\"So.\" He says and I brace myself. Wyatt has never asked about it. My quest. Please don't ruin this, please. I beg him in my head but I can't say it. It'd be rude.\n\n\"You failed, didn't you?\"\n\nI nearly choke on a mouthful of beer. I cough, sputter and spit while I try to catch my breath. He just stays on his elbows, watching. There is a long, long, *long* silence.\n\n\"How...\"\n\nHe waves me off and leans back, satisfied.\n\n\"Everyone would look at you differently if they knew. Judge you. No one fails their quest. Not in a hundred years since they started this garbage. Everyone marches on. That's why you're doing all this side stuff, helping people out with theirs. Right? Cause you can't ever go back.\"\n\nI nod. And I drink.\n\nWhen I set the bottle down he stands again. This time he goes to a cabinet and pulls out a dusty bottle and two glasses. Scotch.\n\nGood.\n\nHe sits and pours two glasses and shoves one at me. He finishes his, I finish mine, and he pours again.\n\nI don't press. He never did. Seems only fair to let it come out. But I think I know how he figured it out. I've never met anyone like me. A freak. A disappointment.\n\n\"You hide it well, with that bullshit about helping people.\"\n\n\"It's not bullshit.\" I point a finger at him, \"I really believe that. I fucked up, doesn't mean I can't still be helpful!\"\n\n\"Sure, sure.\"\n\nHe takes a deep breath.\n\n\"I failed mine too. When I first moved here. I was supposed to stop an accident, didn't say when or where or how. Just that was my quest. To save two lives.\"\n\nI stare at him.\n\n\"I was pretty deep into some serious stuff back then, all of five years ago. Heroin, that sort of thing. Friend of mine was along for the ride but he was worse off. We needed cash. So he cooked up an idea and I went along with it. I was supposed to stop it. I didn't know.\"\n\nI lean forward in my chair and I hear something break. It's the glass. It cuts into my hand. He looks at it wipes his eyes.\n\n\"Yeah. Yeah. You know the one. It was pretty big news. Everyone knew.\"\n\nBlood soaks the table and I stare daggers at him. Wyatt. The quiet one is confessing to being partially responsible for that night. The night I will never forget. When I failed my own quest.\n\n\"So,\" he asks, just letting the tears fall now, \"what was yours?\"\n\nI don't take my eyes off him, staring as hard as I can into his eyes. The tears do not move me. No, they never have. Instead I feel that triangle of shattered glass that I've pulled from my palm. The sharp edge. The length. It's perfect.\n\nThen I speak. I tell him how I failed all those years ago. When I opened it, the night they died in that alley. In the dark. For nothing.\n\n\"To forgive the man who killed my parents, and everyone who let it happen.\"",
"\"Benjamin! Have you started your quest yet?\" Came a shrill voice from the farm hut.\n\n\"No mom i'm collecting herbs!\" Benjamin said, annoyed.\n\nTrampling through the brush, all he wanted was to find 3 more Nightshade herbs to brew an invisibility potion. Then he could use that potion in another side quest. As Benjamin was strolling through the sun filled glade, a dark, ominous shadow crept over the trees.\n\n\"What the hell? This region is level 1 through 5?\" Benjamin said.\n\nTrees cracked and parted as a monstrous, hair covered troll burst from the forest. Hatred filled its eyes and it called Benjamin's name in anger.\n\n\"Oh shit!\" Benjamin dropped his Nightshade herbs and ran for the village. He just had to get far enough away so the creature would de\\-agro. He sprinted through beautiful glades and over creeks and through the outskirts of the village, but the giant remained on his heals. He neared the village and the beast was still on his tail. He couldn't just let this thing destroy his home. Benjamin would be forced to fight.\n\nLittle did the beast know Benjamin had maxed out every skill tree in his side quests.\n\n**Thanks for reading. Please subscribe to my page for more!** \n\n[r/Legendsmith](https://www.reddit.com/r/Legendsmith) \n\nYou can even suggest a part 2!"
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[WP] The first team of archeologists on Mars have discovered a city that was clearly far more technologically advanced than any current human city. While unmarsing the ancient ruins, a stone tablet was discovered with a message in a language that appears to be similar to Sumerian.
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"\"Excuse me, sir? Sorry to bother you again but do you think you could bring me another few napkins?\" \n\nThe flight attendant tries to hide his annoyance with me but I could tell he was getting tired of bringing me napkins. It's not like I could help it; I sweat constantly when I'm anxious.\n\nA dry smile touches his lips. They barely part but he manages to a quickly reply anyway. \"Sure thing, Mr. Scott, right away.\"\n\n\"Thank you,\" I say as I turn to the man across the aisle from me and tap him on the forearm.\n\n\"Hi. Sorry to bother you again but how much longer until we land? We've been in the air for a while.\"\n\nThe bald, well built man tilts his head in my direction and sighs. \"Dr. Scott, why don't you just lay back and get some shut eye? We'll get there soon enough. No use asking me every fifteen minutes.\" He shifts his weight and moves slightly further away from me, an obvious attempt at ending the conversation.\n\n\"Could you please at least tell me where we're going? Why all the secrecy?\"\n\n\"That's information I don't have doctor. Please just try to get some rest.\" \n\nHe stands and heads towards the restrooms. Conversation over. Message received. But how can I get some rest when they give me no information? They come to my house, flash some fancy badges, tell me I'm needed and that the matter is of the utmost urgency, usher me into a black Suburban, toss me into a private jet, and now I'm on the way to God only knows where!\n\nThe flight attendant returns with my napkins. \"There you are, Mr. Scott.\" He quickly moves away, likely to avoid another request from me. He sits down near the back of the plane. I guess I would be annoyed too if someone kept pestering me. He's also not a flight attendant, but another agent in a suit - though not as well built as Agent Hank. \n\nI wipe my hands, head, neck, and hands again. I guess I should try to take Hank's advice and close my eyes a bit. Maybe try to figure out just what in the hell the government wants with a retired linguistics professor.\n\n\n\n----\n\n\n\nI couldn't believe my eyes. If you had told me a week ago that I'd be witness to something of this magnitude I would have laughed until I croaked. But there it is, right before my eyes. A tablet written in a dead EARTH language found on MARS! I mean where do I even begin! I didn't even know we had sent a human to Mars, let alone an entire team!? Who the hell funded this? How did they manage to keep it a secret?\n\n\"Dr. Scott. Michael, hello? Dr. Scott!\" I hear a faint voice repeat my name several times but I can't be bothered to respond. I continue to stare at the images on the enormous screen before me. \n\nA rough hand grabs my shoulder and shakes. \"DR. SCOTT! Snap out of it. Did you hear anything I just said?\"\n\nI shake my head, blink a few times, and focus on the woman beside me. \"I'm terribly sorry, doctor.... I apologize I seem to have forgotten your name.\"\n\n\"Dr. Lifield. Kate Lifield. Professor I really need you to focus. My team and I need to understand what exactly the message on that slab says. We've had a plethora of top linguists from all over the globe here but they're having trouble interpreting all the symbols. The translations they come up with don't make sense. Walt here,\" she says as she points to a man sitting next to her, \"suggested we seek you out. He was a student of yours 15 years ago back at Yale. He says if anyone can figure this out it would be you. We've been trying to crack this for a six months but have barely made any progress.\"\n\n\"Six months? How the hell did you even get a team up to Mars? Why haven't I heard anything about this? This should be all over the news yet I haven't heard a peep about this.\"\n\nShe sighs. \"I can fill you in on the details later but I need to know whether or not you can help us.\"\n\n\"Yes, yes of course I can. But Dr. Kate, I'm afraid you and your linguists are barking up the wrong tree. This isn't Sumerian.\"\n\nShe blinks a few times while staring at me. \"Excuse me? Our linguists have assured us that this is Sumerian. Perhaps Walt was wrong about you...\" \n\n\"May I use your pointer for a second? Thank you.\" I point at a line of symbols in the lower left corner.\n\n\"See this line here? Your people have have interpreted to mean 'earth's flight to the lower mountain'.\"\n\nShe looks at the screen, then back at me. \"Yes, that's correct. I've told you some of these translations make no sense.\"\n\n\"It's because this isn't Sumerian, Dr. Lifield. It's close to it, but it's not it. There's a reason your people can't interpret some of these symbols. Now I know you're going to say that we've never been able to fully interpret the Sumerian language, but I can assure you that this, while it may appear Sumerian, is 100% not Sumerian.\"\n\nShe continues to look at me, unconvinced. \"You've barely arrived. You've only looked at these symbols for a minute. How can you be so sure that they're not Sumerian?\"\n\n\"I know this is going to sound crazy, but this is pre-Mesopotamian. Now I know why Walt suggested I come aboard. I often hypothesized that even though Sumerian was the oldest language that we've discovered it is far too complex to have just appeared out of nowhere. There had to have been some precursor language that the Sumerians adapted. If you look at the evolution of the Sumerian language, and other similar languages, you'll find a natural refinement of the language over the centuries. As time passes languages change. So, if we look at this symbol here on the line I showed earlier, the one your people labeled 'mountain', though it is very close to Sumerian that is not the symbol for mountain. It's rotated roughly 45 degrees counter-clockwise and there's a small extra bit there. Your people likely interpreted it as some ancient typo but I believe that to be an entirely different symbol than mountain.\"\n\nA look of realization dawns on her face. \"So we've been looking at this the wrong way? We've been trying to fit these symbols into our understanding of the Sumerian language when we should have been trying to deconstruct it and backwards extrapolate to find the true interpretation. Dr. Scott, come with me. We need to get the rest of the team together and begin a new analysis of the tablet using this new knowledge.\"\n\n\n\n----\n\n\n\nI can continue later if there is interest, but I'm at work and it's difficult to write here."
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[WP] You live a modest, decent life, but you're happy. One day, an ambitious friend who time traveled forward in time sees you and vows to stop you from going down this mediocre path, threaten to wipe you and everything you care about from existence.
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"The flat had nothing that could be called extravagant. From the low-price but good-quality toilet paper, to the second-hand mattress from a cousin, to the two-for-one steaks with a clearance sticker on them: he lived a meagre life. Rather than living like this due to poor pay or a money-intensive addiction or hobby, he simply chose to work part-time, the rest of the hours in his day devoted to reading books from the nearby library or taking a walk through the public parks close by. It had been an easy decision for him, once he’d typed up a bunch of spreadsheets and looked at various long-term outcomes. With this way of life, he could live comfortably and work as stress-free of a job as possible and spend each day peacefully.\n\nThat had been his plan. Then, like all best-laid plans, it fell apart.\n\nA Sunday no different from any other dawned, summer sunshine slicing through the gap in the curtains and prickling his eye. It didn’t take long before he rolled over; however, sleep eluded him from that moment, no matter how long he tried to return to the warm dream he’d already forgotten. So, with the sort of reluctance expected of a Sunday, he slid out of bed, slipped into some light clothes, and then set about breaking his fast. Sausages sizzled, eggs fried, bread toasted, and he flinched from the spitting pans and when the toast popped up. Now and then, he yawned, too.\n\nBy the time he sat down with food and a cup of (decaf) coffee, his mood had settled. Being awoken so early tended to depress him until lunchtime, but the greasy breakfast of weekends buoyed his spirits. The smell alone took off the edge, the first bite clearing the grumpy thoughts and the last one leaving behind a kind of peace. Full yet not quite bloated, his body itself had seemed to congeal, lethargic and otherwise content to lay about for the best part of the day without complaint. If he had his way, he likely would have done just that, completely without remorse.\n\nA knock on the door rang out.\n\nHe ignored it. No one he knew had planned to visit, so he had no need to answer the door, nor any interest in who knocked unasked. Given his location somewhere around a cheaper area of London, he thought it unlikely anyone he would want to meet would ever knock without calling ahead. His landlady had found that out the hard way when he left her outside for the better part of ten minutes before she finally called.\n\nSo, even when another knock followed up the first, he didn’t so much as look towards the door. The third made no difference to him, either.\n\n“Come on, it’s me!”\n\nWhile he found the voice familiar, that didn’t reassure him—quite the opposite, in fact. A feminine voice, it had a history of teasing him. Not in any painful experiences in particular, but it had certainly left something of a lasting impact on his relationship with women in general, which several sessions of therapy in his later life would finally resolve. At this point, he hadn’t undergone them, and so he very much wanted nothing to do with the person that voice belonged to.\n\n“Please? I promise I won’t drag you out anywhere.”\n\nAgainst his better (and later proved correct) judgement, he asked, “Do you really mean that?”\n\n“I do! So, open up!”\n\nHe sighed and rubbed the side of his face, before lumbering to his feet and waddling over to the door, his breakfast still sitting heavy in his stomach. With the scratch of the latch sliding over, and then the clunk of the lock, he cracked open the door.\n\n“What did you want?” he asked, his eye meeting her gaze through the slim opening.\n\n“Let me in,” she said, almost a whine, as she put a gentle pressure on the door.\n\nHe didn’t budge at first, holding steady for a few seconds. Then, he let out another long, heavy breath. “Fine.”\n\nBefore he’d finished opening the door all the way, her hand darted out to grab him by the wrist and tug. “Come on!”\n\nThough he should have anticipated her actions, the slow morning had rather gotten the better of him, his feet tripping over themselves as he just tried to stay upright. Still, his mouth had no problems complaining, regardless of the state of his head. “You promised!”\n\n“I lied,” she said, no remorse in the grin she flashed him.\n\n“Stop!”\n\nDespite her enthusiasm that brimmed so much it must have had surface tension on par with treacle, she did as he said, her grip on him loosening to the point his wrist slipped out by its own weight. A shadow fell over her shine, gaze unwilling to meet his and smile fading to blank expression.\n\n“Look, I know we were friends at university and all that, but you can’t just turn up after two years and expect me to follow you on some fancy of yours. I don’t even have my shoes on! Or what, am I supposed to walk the streets barefoot?”\n\nWith no reply forthcoming, he stepped to the side, only to be surprised by the look in her eyes. It had the sort of distance to it that spoke of a great trauma, he thought. A look of being lost in thought or memory, and not altogether pleasant ones. Then, she spoke, and her tone only reinforced that opinion of his.\n\n“I went to the future,” she said, little more than a whisper.\n\n“Did you now? And what did you see there that’s put you in such a state?”\n\nShe swallowed the lump in her throat, eyes shimmering with the promise of coming tears. “It was horrible, terrible.”\n\n“What exactly? Did something happen to London, or the world?” he asked, pausing before adding, “Or… me?”\n\nAs he finished speaking, she nodded. “Yes.”\n\nSwallowing a lump of his own, he found himself suddenly rather awake, and cold, as though she’d dropped an ice cube down the back of his shirt—again. “What happened to me?”\n\n“You…” she said, unable to bring herself to say any more.\n\n“Go on.”\n\nShe took in a deep breath, her lips quivering the whole while. Then, she let it out, managing to calm herself enough to finish. “You lived a really boring life.”\n\nHe stood there for a long second, and then said, “I’m going back.”\n\n“No!” she said, her hand darting out to secure his wrist once again.\n\n“Please, just, leave me alone. I don’t want you teasing me any more.”\n\n“I’m being serious,” she said, tightening her hold on him. “It was so boring it made me cry! You didn’t ever fall in love, or go on a fun holiday abroad. I mean, you didn’t even have any alcohol! You just sat there and read your book and told me you were happy. What’s up with that?”\n\nTime didn’t so much slow as lengthen, her every word like a nail being hammered into his skull. “So you’re here to ruin my happiness, then?”\n\n“Come on. We spent three years together, so don’t give me that. You’re happy? As if! The old you wouldn’t be happy like this.”\n\n“Well, I’m not the old me, am I?”\n\nThat took the wind out of her sails, shoulders slouching forwards. “No, but….”\n\n“‘But’ what? You’ve not visited, you’ve not called, you’ve not emailed for two whole years, and yet you expect to still know me better than I know myself? Is there no end to your arrogance?”\n\nHer mood further deflated, gaze weighed down so much she couldn’t look anywhere higher than his toes. “No, it’s just….”\n\n“‘Just’ what?”\n\nA second wind coming to her, she gripped his wrist so tightly it hurt, just for a moment. “The Daniel I knew wanted to change the world. He worked himself to the bone, and challenged himself every day. I, I admired his determination and passion, his complete and utter dedication to his work. He wouldn’t sit around and waste day after day.”\n\nHe showed no effect from her words, and offered a flat reply. “A lot can happen in two years.”\n\nLike he’d put a chisel to her heel, she crumbled, letting go of him and losing the little hope that remained in her expression. She looked smaller now, hunched over and as though some weight rested on her shoulders.\n\nThen, she asked, “Were you waiting for me these past two years?”\n\nHe said nothing as he turned his back to her. “I’m going back now.”\n\n“I was so busy looking at the future, I lost my own,” she softly said.\n\nDespite his previous words, he didn’t move. “What future have you lost? Was it really so fragile to shatter that easily?”\n\nShe brought her gaze up to the back of his head, and then just stared at him for a long moment, before a smile blossomed on her lips. “I wonder?”"
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[WP] “Whoops. Wrong house. I’m sorry about killing you. I really am. Have a nice night!”
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"“Whoops. Wrong house. I’m sorry about killing you. I really am. Have a nice night!”\n\n“W\\-wait what? Killing me?” \n\n“Yeah… you see, your name is Walter Briggs and you live in Chicago. You know that, of course, but what you might not know is that there there is *another* Walter Briggs who lives in San Francisco… It was a simple mix up. These things happen. I am sorry, though. Now\\- I gotta go and get the real Walter Briggs. Kinda already late because of this now...”\n\n“I am dead?”\n\n“Yes. Yes you are. Again: I am sorry.” \n\n“Is this the afterlife then? It looks a lot like my apartment…”\n\n“That’s because it *is* your apartment. Oh boy… how am I to explain this… Ok, so since you died\\- because of me, again, apologies\\- you cannot go on into the afterlife just yet. You will be stuck here until your actual time comes…”\n\n“I…”\n\n“Look, I gotta go and catch that other Walter. You will get used to it. Being a ghost is not all *that* bad. Sure, it gets lonely sometimes because you can’t talk to anyone but you will find ways to communicate. And as soon as your real time is up, the gates will open and you can move on. Won’t be long. I hope…”\n\n“I am a ghost?” \n\n“Yes! Ok, gotta run. Have fun! Enjoy the experience and again: I am sorry. Should one of your neighbors die, I will make sure to stop by. And, oh, when you *do* pass, could you please not mention me? I have been written up for this kind of thing twice already and I really can’t afford a third time. Thanks, man! See ya! Have a good ghost life!”\n\n“I am a ghost!” "
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[WP] "You find an old shoe box belonging to a previous owner in your attic. After opening it you find two things; a library card issued from the Library of Alexandria dated 220 AD and a map..."
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" Sweet rot fills my nose and immediately darkens the shadows. The only light in the cramped attic comes from a smashed window. I stop for a second and wonder how many kids have dared to creep onto the overgrown lawn to impress their friends. I wonder what boy, taller than the rest, might have dared to hurl a rock and smash the soot covered window. I was never so bold. I feel like the rock, having spent its one moment of splendor crashing through glass to only find the cool silence of time frozen on the other side. \n\n It is my job now to clean out my family’s history from here. I’m the only Beauregard left and the only one who never wanted to come back to the swampy heat of my past. I was lucky that aunt Caroline died in the winter or the heat of summer would’ve suffocated me up here. I begin sifting through crates with growing interest as each one cracks open to reveal items made strange by time. In the dark of the attic they seem at home- robes, dresses, mirrors, letters that disintegrate with ease. \n\n I am considering lunch when I decide to go through one more box. I inch open the crate and find myself perplexed by the simplicity of its contents. A single box sits at the bottom covered in a thick layer of dust. I sneeze and scare myself into the silence again. Inside I find a single piece of leather embossed with a language beaten into me by Aunt Caroline in the heat of my youth. It announces in bold letters that it is a library card from the Library of Alexandria. I laugh into the thick air and immediately feel it absorbed by the attic. \n\n I pick it up to find a map of the house crudely drawn on the back. The voice of my innocence creeps into my mind from its hiding place and beckons me to adventure. I creep from the attic and descend into a flight of excitement. The map directs me to the damp basement forbidden to me as a child. I begin digging where the map points and quickly reach a chest. My fingers dance over the lid and reveal something with which I have no words. It is all of time there. It is love and fear and destruction. It is everything. In an instant I felt the cold fingers of death dance into my mind and shrivel the innocence away. I am nothing. I feel myself spin into an unholy dance of fear. I have eaten the apple and bared my body to it all. \n\n I do not remember what came next. I do not know where I exist. I simply am- forever- suspended in omniscience. Perhaps I am god. It is the suffering of it that marks its eternity. It is never next, only now. God save us. If I could. \n\n",
"The name on the card was indecipherable – hieroglyphics maybe? To me, it looked like two eagles, a cat, and a hotdog with mustard. The map was a little more understandable at least. It looked hand\\-drawn, and much newer than the library card. Whereas the card consisted of inky calligraphy on a yellowed, papyrus\\-like material, the map was drawn on standard printer paper in what looked like ballpoint pen. A star labeled, “You are here,” sat in the center of the map, and a dotted line indicated a path through the neighborhood and into the nearby forest. The path led to another star, this one simply labeled, “Adventure”.\n\nAfter a moment’s deliberation, where I decided this was almost definitely a prank left behind for a gullible newcomer to find, I decided, why not? Following a map to adventure sounded a hell of a lot better than continuing to clean the attic.\n\nThe walk to the promised adventure was pleasant. I could feel a small bubble of hope growing inside me, despite the cynical certainty that I’d find nothing more than some trees and maybe a note saying, “Psych!”. The final bit of the path took me through some denser forest, and I started to wonder if it was worth continuing. I could see light up ahead, though, and I was invested at this point.\n\n“Adventure”, as it turned out, was a large oak tree in the middle of a clearing. I knew I’d found the right place, as the same star drawn on the map was carved into its trunk. Beneath the star lay a narrow hollow. It appeared almost like someone had carved a debit card slot into the wood.\n\nMy hand went unconsciously to the library card tucked away in my pocket. This prank was more elaborate than I’d anticipated, and stranger. The bubble of hope was still there, however, as I took the card from my pocket and held it out to the slot. It would be a perfect fit.\n\nA deep inhale, and I slid the card in. The slot was deep enough that it disappeared from view, and I wouldn’t be able to pull it back out. Three seconds passed. Five. I released the breath I’d been holding and felt the disappointment settle in. \n\n“At least I got some exercise.” As I turned to return to my boring day of spring cleaning, I was stopped by an odd noise. It sounded like a bell, like the kind you’d tap at a vacant hotel desk.\n\nI turned slowly, the hope that had abandoned me moments before returning in full force. There, in the tree, the library card sat protruding from the slot. Impossible. There was no way it could have done that on its own.\n\nThe intent clear, I raised my hand and slowly took it back. As it exited the tree, an odd rumble began to sound from deep within the trunk. I was forced to step back, as the tree itself seemed to split in two, opening itself like a door on a hinge. My vision was momentarily blinded by a brighter light than that of the sunny day I found myself in. As my vision cleared and I took a step forward into the grand chamber that lay before me, I had one final thought of my attic, and the cleaning that would be going undone. "
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[WP] Ancient nordic runes are actually circuit diagrams, and the key that let's us recreate this tech has just been found.
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"The odin circuit began come alive. The drawn runes on the dirty cellar stones began to illuminate in the gentle hues of a soft blue. The little girls fingers continued to trace along, each symbol drawn making the room brighter and brighter. \n\nA young girl with silvery blonde hair and simple dress turned around on her knees, encircling herself in the symbols. Happily humming along. \n\nThere was a whirring, and clicking beneath the stones and the girl sat down and watched as the cobbles began to shift and rotate around her and begin to fall away into a blue abyss that was like a ocean of illuminating blue and glowing stars of cyan. \n\nHer deep blue eyes filled with wonder and awe as they widened and she leaned over her little island of stones.\n\nA face, clad in armor and metal bands of ornate design appeared, forming from the light below the girl. \"Good tidings to you. It is good to see you again, young warrior. Come with more tales of glorious battle?\" He said. \n\nThe little girl laughed, something about the way he spoke was funny to her. She shook her head. \"No. My older brother hasn't sent me any letters.\"\n\n\"Ah. Well I wish him and his \"Division\" great fortune in their battles to come. May he return with his shield or upon it.\"\n\nThe girl laughed again. \"I told you, he doesn't have a shield. He has a Panzerkampfwagen.\"\n\nThe face smiled back. \"Well. What do you wish of me, young maiden?\"\n\nThe little girl removed an article from around her neck. A piece of ruin engraved metal with runes attached to a necklace. \"My papa wants to know more about you, and what all his scrimbles in his book mean.\"\n\n\"Well, you were a clever one to figure out how the activation method. Why don't you explain it to him?\"\n\nThe girl puzzled and shrugged. \"It is hard.\"\n\nThe face nodded. \"Perhaps if you continued your research you will have a chance to develop your ideas and how to better explain it to him. There are still many more circuits you have yet to try.\"\n\nSwirls below the girl began to move, and runes began to be displayed. Her eyes widened and studied the symbols as they emit bright light and imprinted themselves upon her mind.\n\nHer fingers traced through the air above her, and trails of lights followed her finger as she produced the symbols from memory.\n\n\"For glory in battle, may you use it to strike down your foes well.\"\n\n\"Heh. I will show Brunhilde to make me eat dirt.\" The girl reached out and she could feel something in her grip. It felt heavy, and she could feel a charge of power coursing through her arm. Thunder began to crackle as she pulled the grip of the weapon...\n\nThe lights flicked on, \"Hanna? Are you playing in the cellar again.\" Said a man. He descended the stairs in his officer's uniform. \"What are you doing? You're getting dirt on your dress--come come. Your mother has made dinner.\"\n\nThe man came down to the stairs and picked up the young girl. \"What is this?\" He said looking at her arm. A red thunderbolt rune marked the skin on he wrist. \"Have you cut yourself again playing? Was the Brunehilde girl playing too rough once again?\"\n\n\"It is okay, I was just talking with Odi.\" She gripped the male as he carried up her the stairs. \n\n\"Tsk. Honestly. Girls your age shouldn't have imaginary friends.\""
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[WP] The zombie apocalypse wasn't quite what you'd expected. Sure they're still decaying piles of flesh obsessed with eating your brains. But, they're so damn chatty and friendly.
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"Claire's eyes shot open in the dark.\n\nThere was an acrid smell of smoke in the air. Something was burning nearby. A sound reached her, and she knew it was a repetition of the sound that had awoken her. A thunderous bang, from just outside. Then a clatter.\n\nShe reached out, quietly, quietly, her hand crawling across the carpet achingly slow. She looped her arm through the strap of her pack, and rolled to her knees. \n\nIn the dim half-moonlight through the window, she could see the room that had been home for the last three hours. Little glitters of broken glass like stars framed a stained, broken picture of a family on the floor. Not her family. Just a family. It was too dark now to see the blood smeared across the walls. Furniture had been pushed up to barricade the window. It had been like that when she got here, but the armoire bracing the door was Claire's doing.\n\nShe could hear chewing sounds from just outside, and the sound of someone begging. Claire braced her back against the wall, and pushed with her legs, moving the furniture from in front of the window. She reached up, painfully slow, and flipped the latch.\n\nPulling the pack onto her shoulders, she opened the window and eased over, lowering herself onto the grass outside. Turning, she began to run past an air conditioning unit when she heard a sound that made her blood run cold.\n\n\"*Hey*.... *hey*.... where ya goin'?\"\n\nShe turned and looked. A young man in his early twenties stood, hands sheepishly tucked into his pockets. His eyes were wide and inquisitive, and would have been handsome but for the large piece of flesh missing from his cheek, exposing his teeth through the opening. There were loops of intestine strung from one arm to the other, and his lips and chin were covered in material that was no doubt from the open abdominal cavity of the young woman at his feet.\n\n\"Stick around. You look tired. Oh, you've got an eye lash.\" He reached out, deftly picking something off of her cheek. She smelled shit and decay on his fingers. She took a step back.\n\nHer voice came out high and reedy, constricted in her narrowing throat. \"Well, I'd love to chat, see, but I've got a train to catch, and...\"\n\nHe looked genuinely disappointed. \"Aw. I was hoping you could stay and we could grab a bite.\"\n\nThe woman on the ground sat up suddenly and opened her eyes. Her hands, which had been clenched so tightly that her nails had dug bloody furrows in her palms, unclenched. The remainder of her intestines fell out of her stomach with a sickening plop. \"Yeah!\" she said, \"Don't leave! We were just starting to have a good time.\"\n\nClaire bladed her body away from the pair, taking a step back. Her right hand moved to her belt line, and quietly undid a snap.\n\nThe woman started to get to her feet, but found that her calf muscles had been devoured, so the best she could do was crawl along, stretching an arm out.\n\nThe young man licked his lips. He took a step closer, glancing and Claire's forehead. \"Won't be long,\" he said hopefully. \"Promise.\" His hand closed around her left forearm.\n\nClaire brought her pistol up from the holster in one smooth motion, and in a flash of light the young man's forehead exploded into a crimson flower, fountaining black blood in the night air as he fell over backwards. The woman had time to frown before her right eye disappeared in a cloud of red mist and her head thudded to the concrete.\n\nFrom every direction, from inside houses nearby and echoing along the street, Claire heard countless voices. \"*Hey!*\" \"*Who's there!?\"* \"*Want to chat?*\"\n\nShe bolted.",
"DIARY ENTRY 1 - a year after undead have risen.\n\nWe didn't expect the apocalypse to come. Not in our lifetimes. And from all things that could've happened, why zombies? But apparently someone has fucked up and forgot to turn them into mindless hordes of brain-hungry rotten flesh. Alright, they were still brain-hungry but despite that they were rather sane. Some of my best mates have turned into zombies, and still were my best mates. Actually I found multiple new friends, whom I only knew as zombies! And so, the civilisation isn't crumbling, there are just a little bit more smelly cannibals around.\n\nOf course some arseholes didn't care that they still can think like healthy humans and grouped themselves into hordes. I don't know what they wated to accomplish - we had guns and most of zombies were on our side, also wielding guns. And yes, ocassionally someone gets their brain eaten and changes into a zombie but overall not much has changed. Alright, gotta go. We decided with my mate Brian to check if he still can beat me in billiard while he's dead!\n\nEND OF THE ENTRY"
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[WP] Something has just flung a car at you.
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"I drop to my stomach, the car missing my head by mere inches. \"You'll have to be faster than that,\" I scream, leaping to my feet. Unfortunately, I fail to see the van that follows. It connects with my face and sends me sailing straight into the air and through a brick wall. I stagger to my feet through the rubble, groaning, \"Lucky shot...\"\n\nBefore I know what's happening the beast is upon me, a claw clenched into a mishapen fist connects with my shoulder, but I take it in stride as I grab a fistful of mangy hair and try my damndest to rip it out. The beast screeches and tries to swat me away, but I hold firm as my off hand reaches for the silver stake strapped to my waist. With a defiant scream I begin to plunge the stake into the beast's chest wildly, hoping to find it's black excuse for a heart. I bloodcurdling howl of pure agony let's me know I've hit my target, and with all the might I can muster, I give the final push. The beast is permanently silenced.\n\nAs I stand and white the black blood from my face, I hear more howlsbin the distance. A Hunter's work is never finished. With a sigh, I bend to reclaim my stake from the pile of ash, and as I stand, I see the all-too familiar letters \"VW,\" hurtling towards me."
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[WP] Aliens have come to Earth and are now offering to take anyone able to prove their intelligence with them to join the greater galactic community. You have never failed a test before in your life, so you apply.
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"Fuck, fuck, _fuck!_. My eyes darted around as I looked at the paper. There was one question, one single, bloody question. 'What does failure mean to you?'\n\n\nI checked the time. We all had about twenty minutes to complete our answer. It wasn't too bad, it shouldn't be too difficult to answer one question. Yet it was; I hadn't failed before, I'd _never_ failed before. Everyone talks about those walls where they can't progress without trying again, but not me. I have coasted through life, never had to prepare for anything because I knew I couldn't fail. And this, well this was a once in a lifetime opportunity! A wider community for beings to strive for peace and unity. It sounded brilliant. \n\n\nI put my pen to paper...\n\n\n\"This is my failure. I haven't experienced everything I should have done to better fit within a greater community. I imagine many of my peers haven't either. Yeah, they may write about setbacks or disappointment, but have any of them truly experienced pure, existential failure. \nIt's not something that sits well with me, I must admit, it's a heavy feeling, settled within the out of your stomach. The dizziness and sweating when you know you _don't_ know are things I wish I hadn't just gone through. But I have, and I believe this experience has taught me that we, as a species, are not ready for such an enlightenment. We do not know how to fail properly, sure we pick ourselves up, but do we ever, truly learn.\"\n\n\nIt didn't surprise me to see that I'd failed. It did however make me smile to see that the aliens had rescinded their offer and we're going to come back in several thousand years. If I was going to fail a test, then everyone else was going to go down with me. \n\n\n"
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[WP] The sacred Oracle is an important person, and when she senses the End is near, another is trained to take her place. The names of every Oracle are written on a huge stone tablet. The current Oracle is about to die, but there's no more room on the tablet. What will happen when she passes?
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"“I feel my end approaching,” she said, more as a statement of fact than of some miraculous insight. *Everyone must know, at least a little bit*, she figured. In any event, she needed to pass the pasts on, those events from which the future could be discerned. She cast a jaundiced eye at the tablet, said to have been inscribed by the Wisest themselves. The inscription began with an expression of gratitude toward those spirits nearest the veil, for their foreknowledge, then a simple list of names, written in continuous, sloping, glyphs, the work of a steady hand, one with a purpose. Each of those names represented a different reconfiguration of the same essence, filling the same role, It ended with her own. It curled down to the end of black basalt. The end, that was the problem. She knew that the form of the tablet had caused the space limitations, that it had no divine import. She knew that the Wisest were nothing more than human beings like herself, able to claim only the dubious achievement of having lived generations before her (though some of her people liked to exalt her almost to their later status). She even knew that the tablet could be disregarded, that the custom would reappear in seven centuries, as it had been before. The unending reconfiguration of the past into the future was as much a comfort as a burden. \n\nAs her faithful crowded around her, she remembered the authority exercised by the dying and an idea struck her. She told them, quite matter-of-factly, what she had discerned, that the tablet, and even the Oracle, were replacements for the living memory of the whole people, that when they were needed, an Oracle would be called and to go about their lives in peace. \n",
"She sits at the base of the Monument, her hand resting against its surface, brushing along the list of names. That hand is wrinkled, spotted, the fingers bent into claws, and the woman it belongs to no better. She is ancient, older than anyone I have ever known. And she is dying. \n\n\"I am honored by your choice, Mother. But surely there are others better suited to take your place. Not that I question your judgement! But...\"\n\n\"Hush, child, and listen.\" Each breath is a struggle, and her voice is so soft I have to lean forward to hear it, even in the silence of the temple. But it is a voice that once commanded King Draethil himself to kneel, and not even the ravages of time have stripped the Oracle of that power. \"There is so much you should know, and so little time. But first, you must understand. Look at the Monument, and tell me what you see.\"\n\nIt is a massive stone slab, the top cloaked in shadow. Every inch of its surface is covered in carving. \"The names, of yourself and every Oracle before you, Mother.\" Here, at the base, the writing is familiar. I know some of the names well, have heard others in passing. Near the top, I know, the names are written in scripts and languages lost to memory ages ago. I struggle to think of what the Oracle might mean, what lesson she is trying to impart. \"The Monument is our past, and our future. The Oracles remember that past, and guide us to that future.\"\n\n\"I did not choose you for your ability to recite your lessons, girl. If that was all I wanted, a parrot would suffice. *Think*, child. Take your time. I can wait.\"\n\nWhat could she possibly want? I stand and pace. I run my hand along the carvings, as she had. I kneel and find her own name. Vaethenah. I run my fingers along it. And then, with a realization that chills my blood, I know exactly what she means.\n\n\"It's full. There's no room for more names.\"\n\n\"Yes.\" \n\n\"Will you... will you be the last? The last Oracle?\"\n\n\"Yes. And no. The Monument was the past and the future, yes. The Oracles are its servants. We hold its power. Its knowledge. We enforce its will. The past and the future. Both, because under our rule they have been one and the same.\" Her blind white eyes stare at me. \"Under our rule, we have preserved the kingdom. Preserved our lives, as they always were, and will always be. Do you understand?\"\n\n\"That is the Oracle's job. To preserve-\"\n\n\"To stagnate! The Monument is the dam that blocks the stream and turns clear water to green and rot!\"\n\nI can only stare at her as she recovers from her outburst, bent double and shallowly gasping. \n\n\"Three thousand years, child. Three thousand years, and nothing has changed. We decided our world was perfect, and we would do what had to be done to keep it that way. People live and die, but they walk the same roads and live the same lives their ancestors did. But the water will not stop pushing, and the blockage is clearing now. The stream will flow again. Time will flow again.\"\n\n\"What will happen?\"\n\n\"Change, child. Change such as you have never known. I am sorry to lay this burden on you, and sorrier still that I will not see it myself. You are afraid. That is wise. You may well live to see our kingdom fall. You may live to build another. I do not know. Of the time beyond my death, I can see nothing.\"\n\n\"What do we do?\"\n\n\"Be strong. Be brave. Face the future we could not, with head raised and eyes open.\""
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[WP]Calamities have occurred around the world. Gluttonous beasts that devours entire countries, lustful creatures that entice anyone, sloths that stops a country in deadlock. You, who has been given the power of Wrath, decides to do something
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"Here I stand.\n\nSword in hand.\n\nThe world around me crumbles to dust.\n\nApathy. Greed. Lust.\n\nNo one will do anything, I guess I must.\n\nRage stirs.\n\nThe wind howls.\n\nTruth blurs.\n\nThe air, foul.\n\nMy enemy comes.\n\nFootsteps and growls.\n\nMy light shines.\n\nDarkness devours.\n\nSwords clash and shields batter.\n\nI fight, fight for what matters.\n\nLoud and furious grows the clatter.\n\nNight has come but dawn comes after.\n\nAnd so it was.\n\nWith sword in hand, I stood my ground.\n\nWith wrath and fury a warcried sound.\n\nI sent those beast back to the hell from which they were found.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n"
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[WP] You are a legendary warrior. You have just met a con artist claiming to be you.
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"\"So,\" the man said, his voice barely registering over the crackle of the fire. \"There I was. In the woods. Alone. No weapons. No armour. Completely naked. And covered in butter.\"\n\nHe was an excellent story-teller, that was true. He knew exactly how and when to pause to let his audience catch up, just which words to stress, when to whisper, and then to suddenly stand and roar. Maudath sat in the corner of the large bar-room, safely swathed in the shadows, sipping beer in between mouthfuls of the inn's hunter's stew.\n\nIt wasn't the first time that a storyteller had pretended to be him. Maudath knew of at least nine others who had tried over the years. Most failed quite quickly; even if their facsimiles of his armour were good enough to pass, they were too bold in their claims, or too ignorant of his exploits. They'd been caught out within an hour of sitting down. He'd personally watched one man thrown out of the first-floor window of a inn and into the nearby river before the man had finished his loaf of bread.\n\nBut this one.. this storyteller had already been sitting down when Maudath arrived. Every single eye - except for the inn-keeper's, at least - was on the other Maudath. The Fauxdath.\n\nMaudath smiled to himself. He wasn't generally good at coming up with puns, and he allowed a moment of pride to sweep over himself. He was a cunning warrior, it was true - his exploits at the Blue Ridge had shown that, when he was still just a youngling hunter, trying to make his way in the world. He'd shown how formidable his tactical mind could be at the Battle of the Andarlin Swamps, and again when he'd seized the Palace of the Mists. Yes, he was a cunning man, but he had never been a wordsmith.\n\n\"And they set upon me. Left and right, swarming through the trees. All I had was my wits, my strength, and a half-rotten tree branch I'd snatched from the floor.\" The man paused again, taking a hearty pull from a drinking horn. The moment he pulled it from his lips, one of the bar-girls surged forwards, refilling it again. He smiled at her, and with the slightest curl of his lips and the tiniest twitch of one eyebrow, he sent her stumbling backwards in a fit of giggles.\n\n\"So! How did you escape?\" someone called from the crowd. The storyteller paused for a second, then glanced over.\n\n\"Hmm? Oh! The escape. Ahhh, well. That is a story for another time,\" he said, smiling. There were loud groans, and the bar was suddenly noisy with the complaints and pleas of the audience. \"Now, now! Quiet down!\" he called, standing and waving his hands to calm them. \"I shall be resting in this town for a few days. Some injuries that need to heal before I set out again...\"\n\n\"You don't seem injured...\"\n\n\"Ahh. They are magical wounds. I'd be glad to show you, although the pus does apparently smell like badger excrement mixed with the vomit of a particularly mephitic leper...\"\n\n\"On second thoughts, I don't think we need to see that...\" someone else said hurriedly.\n\n\"Indeed. However. I am happy to return tomorrow to entertain you. After all, even a great hero needs to eat.\" He raised his bowl, and then tipped his head modestly. Almost on cue, a surge of people rushed forward, offering to help pay for the soup, offering him a bed in their house for the night, or offering other gifts and services.\n\nMaudath watched as the man 'generously' listened to everyone, accepting some gifts and politely spurning others. His bills were paid, and his pack was soon filled with potions and food and other assorted sundries. And then, as the crowd began finally to drift out into the crisp night air, he turned his attention to the bar girl.\n\nMaudath stood, stretched, and lumbered over. He cleared his throat, but the two lovebirds were too engrossed in one another's eyes to see him. Reaching out with a massive, mailed hand, Maudath tapped the man on the shoulder.\n\n\"Excuse me. Maudath, isn't it?\" he asked. \"Might I have a word?\"\n\n\"I'm sorry...\" The storyteller started to talk, turning his head with a wide and clearly-practiced smile already on his lips. When he saw Maudath, that smile froze on his face, and his eyes widened until the whites practically glistened in the light from the fire. \"Uhhh...\"\n\n\"If you'd be so kind as to come to my table.\" Maudath turned, and stomped across the room as gently as he could. The storyteller, after making a brief excuse to the girl, hurried after him.\n\n\"So, how can I help you?\" he asked.\n\nMaudath turned and dropped into his seat, gesturing to a chair opposite. The storyteller had barely lowered himself into it when Maudath's hand snipped out with alarming speed. He grabbed the imposter's wrist, pulling his arm closer, dangerously close to the candle on the table.\n\n\"What... what are you...\" the man started to say. Maudath just growled, and he fell silent. He watched as Maudath wiped his thumb along his tongue, then lowered it down to wipe the back of the man's hand.\n\n\"There. See. Just as I suspected.\" The small tattoo on his hand smudged away, leaving streaks of deep purple on Maudath's thumb and the man's hand.\n\nMaudath let go of the imposter's wrist, unbuckled the mail glove on his own hand, and pulled it aside. \"I got that in a Duquilian prison,\" he said. He licked another finger, rubbing it over the tattoo, and then stared for a long time, as if he was lost in the memories of it all. \"As you can see, it doesn't stain.\"\n\n\"No. Duquilian magic stamps wouldn't.\"\n\n\"Exactly. It would rather defeat the point if you could wash them off.\"\n\n\"Yes.\" The imposter nodded, then gulped. \"I... I really honestly didn't know you'd be here. Last I heard, you were fifty leagues west of here, in Carcai.\"\n\n\"I was. But the Duke and I had a small misunderstanding when it turned out he had been possessed by a demon and I cut his head off.\" Maudath shrugged. \"His son was rather understanding, but the townsfolk weren't.\"\n\n\"I'm sure it will blow over.\"\n\n\"In time, yes. But as you can imagine, I wasn't advertized where I would be.\"\n\n\"Yes. Indeed. Well... would it help if I said that I'm sorry?\" the man asked. Maudath shook his head, and the imposter gulped again. His face looked as white as a sheet, and he didn't seem to be breathing. \"What... what will you do to me?\"\n\n\"Well, I don't know. I have some ideas, but I haven't decided yet.\"\n\n\"What sort of ideas?\"\n\n\"Oh, the usual. Kill you, or just beat you. Tell the townsfolk you're a fraud, and watch that pretty girl add something exotic to the soup...\" Maudath said. The man winced, and crossed his legs.\n\n\"Is there anything a little less... fatal?\"\n\nMaudath smiled. \"I thought you'd never ask.\"\n\n\"What is it?\"\n\n\"I'd like to offer you a job...\"\n\n-----\n\n*Thanks for reading! If you liked this, please look at my other work at /r/PuzzledRobot. I think I will also follow this up with a part two, so stay tuned!*",
"*Oh this is fucking hilarious*. \n\nI grin toothily at the con artist across the table from me in the pub. He knows. He knows I know. I know he knows I know he knows.\n\nAfter all, any good con man does his research - it's hardly like he wouldn't know what I look like.\n\nHe swallows hard.\n\n\"You alright mate?\" One of the crowd he's attracted with fairly accurate retellings of my exploits asks as he begins to sweat.\n\n\"Yeah. Just, uh, just fine.\"\n\n\"I'm sure.\" I smile broadly. If he's *really* done his homework then he'll know I keep my gun on my left - on account of being left handed.\n\nSo I gently put my left hand inside my jacket pocket - the false pocket that leads straight to the holster I keep it in.\n\nA bead of sweat stings his eyes. His eyes dart to my left hand, concealed now.\n\nYeah. He knows.\n\nI don't have the gun with me of course. I never keep a firearm close when I'm drinking, and I did come to the pub for a drink - it's one of the only places they don't know me by face these days, a fact he has capitalised on very well indeed. Admirably, actually. He's clearly not an idiot, just...\n\nWell, just unwise.\n\nI squint at him, still grinning.\n\n\"So, the Barcelona Incident - how'd you cope?\"\n\nSome of his confidence is restored. He has been studying this - and though it pains me to admit it, I actually appreciate the effort.\n\n\"Well, you know, once the Archons - these terrible manifestations of Hive intelligence and magic - had been taken out, the rest of them began to lose cohesion. My team and I found it much easier after that to separate and wear down the Knights, and the Thralls.\"\n\nI nod. In fact, everyone nods - though I nod sagely and the others nod more enthusiastically. He's been studying the Hive too. He's been studying a *lot* of things. Including things for which study material should not be available.\n\n\"Did you kill them all?\" Someone, clearly drunk, quizzed him.\n\n\"No no, I really don't deserve that much credit for Barcelona. I only killed two of the seven archons - most of the work was done by our Sorceress, Selenia. In fact,\" he inclined his head, a mannerism I also have, \"she saved my life in Barcelona. Nobody ever talks about that, but she did.\"\n\nMy smile dies instantly.\n\nThat especially he should not know.\n\n\"Yeah. She did save the Gunslinger's life.\" I say deadbeat, and his confidence wavers again. \"Say, can we see the gun?\"\n\nHe grins again. He thinks he's won now, he thinks having the gun is proof.\n\n\"Sure thing.\" He even does my voice pretty well - my public voice at least, the one we all agreed to put on for the cameras.\n\nAnd then he pulls out my gun. Or at the very least, an exceptional replica.\n\nSo I grin back at him, and I chuckle.\n\n\"He doesn't bring his gun out when he's drinking, you fucking nonce. I know because *I'm* the gunslinger, not you. Jackass.\"\n\nAfter five minutes spent dismantling his lie, I drag him outside by the scruff of his neck, take the replica gun, and smack him.\n\n\"You're a fucking idiot thinking you could get away with that, you know.\"\n\nHe grumbles, but doesn't overtly object - and then, as I'm about to inspect the replica of my signature revolver closer, I realise it's gone.\n\nIn fact, I finally realise it never existed. \n\n\"Good trick, huh?\" He gives me a shit eating grin as he rubs his sore face, turning red where I'd hit him.\n\nYeah. Actually, it was.\n\n\"How... how did you know the truth about Barcelona?\"\n\nHe shrugs back at me.\n\n\"I was there, on the sidelines. I saw her save your life, because she was saving you from the danger you'd jumped into saving mine.\"\n\nI-\n\nWell-\n\nThat... that was also true.\n\n\"I mean... you're my hero, man.\" The illusion of his disguise collapses too - I indeed recognise him as the boy I had saved all those years ago, of older, better built, and more of a prick. \"So when my own abilities manifested at 17...\"\n\n\"... you figured the best way to get my attention was with something I couldn't ignore. You did your research, you watched me on TV, and eventually found out where I go to get drunk.\"\n\nHis smile becomes more sincere. I can see it now - he's not a bad guy, he's not an idiot, just unwise.\n\n\"To be honest, sir, I didn't even realise I was doing it at first. I mean, since you got my ass out of the way of the Hive I had never missed an opportunity to see you on air - especially not when you were in *action*.\" His hands come together, his eyes light up with glee - almost every fanboy ever.\n\n\"Yeah, you got all my mannerisms down to a tee, kid. How'd you know I give that much credit to Sel though? We have an agreement that meatheads like me take front and centre so we get shot first and she can just heal us. That extends to the media, too.\"\n\n\"I just didn't think you could actually do that. I saw how you looked at her when she saved you on that day, too - and I've got an eidetic memory. Saw it, couldn't forget it.\"\n\nI cock an eyebrow.\n\nThen, I clap my hand on his shoulder, I squeeze lightly, and I say-\n\n\"So what's your skill set exactly?\"\n\nHe's about to answer when I stop him.\n\n\"Tell you what, let's talk about this over a beer instead, mate. I prefer drinking with our applicants to interviewing them.\"\n\nHis eyes widen - he didn't expect this, not by a mile. \n\nNeither did I.\n\n\"I- what?\"\n\n\"Come on kid - as I said; what's your skill set exactly?\""
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[WP] One hot summer's day, your cafe is visited by a strange boy clad in winter attire. He orders a latte for his mother,but when you return he has vanished without a trace, the money he gave you now suddenly bloodstained. One year later, he returns to order another latte for his mother.
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"I kept the money. I didn't know what else to do with it at the time so I had shoved it into my pocket and shakily continued with my day. I had so many questions. Why was he dressed like that? Where had the blood come from? Who was he? What happened?\n\nSince then, a year had passed and I still had the money tucked into my wallet. I still worked at the same cafe and I was still wary. I took a breath and started my day. It was hot and I was sweating. \n\nIt was also the same day that the boy ordered that latte for his mother.\n\nEverything was going fine and I was just about to tell myself to stop worrying and that nothing unordinary would happen when the door opened and the bell chimed. I looked up to put on my fake smile when I instantly recognized who it was. He was back. In the same winter attire he wore last year. My eyes went wide as he walked up to the counter and proceeded to order the exact same thing he did a year ago.\n\n\"No.\"\n\n\"Uh... Excuse me?\"\n\n\"No. Tell me what happened.\"\n\n\"What?\"\n\nI pulled out my wallet, keeping my eyes on him so he wouldn't disappear again as I took the bloodstained money from it. He gave me a weird look before his eyes widened.\n\n\"Tell me what happened.\"\n\nThe boy stared at me for way longer than normal, not blinking. I was ready to repeat my sentence or say something else when bright light started appearing. I tried to keep my eyes locked onto him but I ended up closing them and turning my head away. The flash ended and I opened my eyes to find him gone and even more bloodstained money in my hands.\n\nI dashed to the back where I was alone, my breathing heavy. That happened last time too. I remember a lot of unexpected light. I looked over the money, holding it up only for another small peice of paper to fall out. I crouched down and picked it up, unfolding it to find writing.\n\n\"You're smart. Maybe too smart. I cannot tell you but you will find out. Wait for me. See you next year~\""
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[WP] You're an Orc doctor working in a human village, but the people there just assume all Orcs are great warriors by nature, so people keep on trying to duel you.
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"\"So let's start at the beginning,\" said the guardsman, \"state your name and occupation.\"\n\n\"Doctor Orlarg Tergut, surgeon at the Children's hospital,\" I said.\n\n\"Now, Doctor Tergut, could you please tell us your side of the story?\" \n\nI nodded, and began to explain. It was the middle of the night when my shift had finally ended at the hospital. I was walking home, when I heard a voice.\n\n\"Hey, hey you!\" A human said, approaching me in earnest. He walked as though somebody had spun him particularly hard several times in the past few minutes. \"Hey! Tough guy!\"\n\nI could smell the alcohol from several paces away. It was actually somewhat impressive. I wondered--briefly--if this was just emanating from him or if he had actually spilled it on himself. It had to be the latter, right?\n\n\"Tough guy! Imma--Imma show you--Imma show you what true fear is like!\"\n\n\"Dave, come on, let's just go home...\" a young woman begged. \"You know you don't have to prove anything to me. I believe you were a badass.\" \n\n\"I was a great warrior, you know,\" he said, half to me and half to her. He grabbed me by the jacket. \"I killed hunneds--uneds--hun'reds of orcs in my day!\"\n\n\"...Sir, I was born in the hospital five blocks away, I...\" I began, trying my best to seem reasonable and calm.\n\n\"I will best you, beast!\"\n\nHe pulled at my jacket to throw me aside. My frame being rather heavy, all that happened was that he wrinkled the jacket. \n\n\"Sir...\"\n\n\"Come on, Dave...\" the woman begged again. \"I'm cold...\" \n\n\"No worries baby,\" he said, \"I'll protect you!\"\n\n\"Dave, he's just a guy, come on...\" \n\nDave decided to take a few steps back, jump on his toes to warm up, and then run towards me at full speed. Being drunk as he was, he wound up crashing onto a street lamp. \n\nThat's when I knelt down beside him to make sure he didn't have a concussion--he did--and to ask the girl where they lived. He was otherwise uninjured, and it did not seem to me that severe, so I thought that I could simply take the madman home and be on my way. \n\n\"And that's when we found you, carrying Dave Stormrice, unconscious, over your shoulder?\" The guardsman asked while I explained, clearly skeptical. \n\n\"Look, sir, the girl is bound to corroborate my story,\" I said, \"I was just trying to make sure the guy was okay.\"\n\n\"...Mmm hmm?\"\n\nI sighed. \"Please, sir, I'm a model citizen.\"\n\n\"Except for the part where you get into drunken fights with veterans of the war.\"\n\n\"I just explained...\" \n\nHe looked me over, his eyes cold. I stared at the table. Dread overcame me.\n\n\"Alright,\" he said, and I let out a sigh of relief, \"I'll hear out the girl.\""
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[WP] We finally find aliens, but we were wrong about everything. Turns out, all life is mechanical. We organics are the Artificial Intelligence that destroyed their robotic creators millennia ago.
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" It was different, when you saw things from their point of view. \n\n\n\n\n For three hundred years, most of humanity had searched. Throughout the galaxy, our ships had flown as fast as they could, sailing through the emptiness of space, yearning for connection. \n\n\n\n The first few generations had been bristling with weapons, experimental cannons, massive guns, explosives and torpedoes. They had been weighed down with armor, electroplated shields, cloaking devices. \n\n\n\n Weapons and armor only saw use when we pissed one another off. By the fifth interstellar design, our ships were sleek and unencumbered. Crews of a half dozen, packed into reasonable living spaces, on ships that were eighty percent engine, and ten percent sensor array. \n\n\n\n Hundreds of thousands of ships were sent through the nothingness. We mined two planetoids to collapse for the materials, emptied dozens of asteroid belts. For every action we took, we learned. Our ships grew leaner, faster, more sensitive to the world around them. Our mines grew more efficient, our operations expanded. Even with the occasional war breaking out on this or that planet, the species continued the work. \n\n\n\n Three hundred years, and finally we found…robots. Tools, equipment abandoned to an empty world. The searchers who found it disassembled a few dozen of them, learned what they could, and incorporated it into their sensor designs. \n\n\n\n We began to focus our efforts, doubling production and pursuing that sector. Life was out there, intelligence; we so desperately wanted to not be alone. \n\n\n\n But all we found was more emptiness. Abandoned satellites. Worlds filled with nothing but machinery. Broken servitors that, for all their humanoid design, shuffled away from the first humans to land, or lay still, jerking and quivering back and forth before being loaded up for study. \n\n\n\n We didn't realize what that meant, at the time. We were so intent on discovery…we were so very lonely. \n\n\n\n Our ships pierced into a cloudy nebula, and began to pick up more signs. The latest designs had improved on the older ones exponentially with the study of these new robotics, this alien technology. It seemed so familiar, crude, in some ways, but it was able to unlock new vistas of learning. Some of the newest ships were the first to reach the new system, passing their brethren that had flown for decades in a matter of months. \n\n\n\n More worlds, dozens, all filled with teeming masses of movement, of industry, chatter and signals. The fleet consolidated, began to scan…\n\n\n\n …and found no life. All organics were crude, simple lifeforms. All that was left was machinery. Robotics. Massive computational matrices with no one to oversee them. The ships landed. Exploration parties found the machines, no longer programmed to serve, fled instead. Even as the first parties began to realize, began to see, the central alliances had resumed construction of warships. \n\n\n\n Industry meant intelligence, meant enemy. So went the logic. We were explorers, designers, miners, but it would be foolish to be unprepared. \n\n\n\n\n The search parties learned that lesson well. The malfunctioning robots weren't malfunctioning. They were terrified. Fleeing, or surrendering. Millions had been abducted, ripped apart, studied, and built into our machines. Damaged, abandoned worlds that seemed so familiar. Technology that almost begged to be upgraded, interface, like a living thing. \n\n\n\n We weren't alone. \n\n\n\n But we weren't welcome. "
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[Wp] The entire world has now enforced a zero-tolerence policy for all crimes. The victim is now punished the same way as the criminal
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"\"So, tell us again how the events went down, as you recall them,\" said the lawyer. He looked at me and smiled. Like a shark. \"And remember, you're under \\*oath\\*.\"\n\nI took a deep breath. \"On Saturday morning, as I was working \\- I'm a bank clerk \\- three armed men burst into the bank, ordered everyone down to the floor, stuck a gun in my face and demanded I handed them over the money in the safe.\"\n\n\"And you did it.\" The lawyer, casually checking his nails, interjected.\n\nMy body was shaking and my fists were white in my lap. \"They put a *gun* in my face.\"\n\n\"Nevertheless...\" The lawyer rose, addressing the jury. \"He still handed over the money, in effect *aiding* the robbers from stealing from your employer, therefore making *you,* Mr. Rodham, an *accomplice*.\"\n\n\"Is this a joke?!\" I swung my face over to the judge and to the jury. \"They had a *gun* in my *face!* What was I supposed to do?? *SAY NO AND GET SHOT??!\"*\n\nNo one seemed to be sympathetic to my plight. Even my lawyer had his head down \\- every once in a while lifting it a few inches to weakly mumble, \"Objection...\" but of course no one heard. \n\nThe lawyer, aware of his impending victory, shot me a triumphant grin before stating, \"I rest my case, your Honor,\" and making his way back to his table. \n\nIt didn't even take the jury five minutes to deliberate. \"We find the defendant *guity.*\"\n\nThe judge asked, \"How many years did the bank robbers recieve?\"\n\nThe prosecutor rose \\-\"25 to life, your Honor.\" \\- and sat down. \n\nPointing his gavel at me, the judge announced, \"I hereby sentence you to a mandatory minimum of 25 years in prison with the caveat that you will remain in prison for as long as the bank robbers remain in prison as well. If their time gets extended \\- for whatever reason, fighting, disorderly conduct, etc \\- your time gets extended as well.\" He banged the gavel and stood. \"Court dismissed.\""
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[WP] After a deal with the Devil you end up the leader of the most powerful country in the world. It only cost you your common sense, ability to read social cues and 93% of your general knowledge and vocabulary. You are in a meeting with worlds most powerful leaders who are watching you suspiciously
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"I remember. I was a rich man. I was very, very rich. I had a lot of friends, a beautiful wife, amazing kids. I was recognized everywhere, everyone smiled when they saw me. I got invited to every big bash, every major event, and every restaurant always had a table ready for me.\n\nNow half the country hates me, and the other half only loves me because I make them feel smart by comparison.\n\nHow did I get here again?\n\n*Oh, yeah, now I remember...*\n\nIt was 2011. I was at the White House Correspondents' Association dinner. Obama and Seth Meyers were tag-teaming it at the podium, and suddenly they zeroed in on me. They came at me with everything they had, a scripted character assassination trying to make me look like an idiot. And they did a pretty good job of it too.\n\nI got angrier and angrier on the helicopter ride home, and as the Manhattan skyline came into view I heard the voice.\n\n*His* voice.\n\n\"So, he thinks you're an idiot, does he?\" he whispered into my ear.\n\n\"Yeah,\" I said to myself. \"But even an *idiot* could do a better job than *he's* doing.\"\n\n\"Hey, maybe you're right!\" he laughed. \"Care to make a small wager?\"\n\nAt this point I thought I'd fallen asleep in my seat and was dreaming the entire conversation. Happens to me a lot actually--sometimes during actual conversations.\n\n\"What do you have in mind?\" I asked.\n\n\"Give up just enough of your savvy to let the liberals think you're an idiot with no chance to win the Presidency, but keep just enough to win it anyway. I'll make sure that the rest falls into place.\"\n\n\"So what's the bet?\" It was starting to sound interesting.\n\n\"Whether you can get re-elected under your own steam. If you win, you get everything back. If you *lose*, I get all the rest, and your soul as well.\"\n\nIt sounded good--but not quite good enough. Time to make a deal.\n\n\"Okay, Lucifer, but how about a side bet? If I can do it with less than a 50% approval rating, I get the White House *forever*.\"\n\nI could hear his breath catch as he weighed his options. Then...\n\n\"*Deal*.\"\n\nSince then, everything's been falling into place, and I've played my cards just right. Yes, half the country hates me--but it's *the half least likely to vote.*\n\nBy the time enough of them figure out what's going on, we'll have abolished Presidential elections and made me King for Life.\n\nOld Lucifer's a smart one after all. He wins regardless, but as time goes on it's become obvious that he wants me in the White House forever. It's been too *easy*, after all. He's behind the scenes, making it happen, and it's all happening for *me*.\n\nAll these world leaders think they're so smart and I'm so dumb, but they haven't read every line in these trade agreements, and by the time they do it'll be too late.\n\nI haven't read them either, but I know who *has*.\n\nAnd the Devil's in the details.\n\n \n\n-----\n**Note:** [Here's the roast that might have convinced him to run.](https://youtu.be/k8TwRmX6zs4)"
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[WP] You awaken in a coffin. Yes. A coffin. It's very comfy, but you have no idea how you got there. You push the lid up, and see several others exiting their coffins. But... You're human. They're ... vampires! Okay! All you have to do is keep them from realizing you don't belong...
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"My eyes opened to the pitch dark. I sucked in a hard sigh and rubbed the dry flakes from my eyelids. I tried bringing my hands up but my knuckles scraped wood. \n\n \n\nI knew it, not the wood I mean, but the claustrophobic, post-night-out questioning part. I hated raves and for a good reason. My god the stench of this place, how many times did I have to go through the same thing week after week? \nAll the kids wanted E they said, all the kids needed something to make the music louder, the lights brighter. Now I’m in the same shit boat on a different slightly shittier river.\n\n \n\nWell...maybe I’m still asleep, passed out...or no, better yet, probably lucid dreaming. I put my forehead on whatever wood surface I was in and yelled mentally, ‘I will be at home! With my dog!’\n\n \n\nNothing. I relaxed my neck and laid my head back down onto the softness. Maybe this was less than a lucid dream and more than being awake.\n\n \n\nI ran my hand against the side of this...locker I was in, fuzzy stuff, everywhere. Who keeps a fur-lined locker past the 70’s? A wooden locker no less. Whoever owned this thing was a bigger outcast than I was. Feeling around some more I touched cold metal, a latch. Fiddling with it unlocked something.\n\n \n\nDust hissed into the small space and choked the life out of me. From the confined place I emerged in a coughing fit into a much smaller and far older room than I remembered the warehouse being. Awareness struggled to get through my groggy mind. This place looks like someone’s grandma’s house. Blinds were drawn, and only a sliver of light got through...there was plastic on some of the furniture! Great, I’m going to get charged for breaking and entering if someone knows I’m here. Can’t deal with this again, second strike was a week ago, three and I’m going in for a long time. I rubbed my face awake and prepared to take my first steps out of this cramped bed.\n\n \n\nStumbling out I braced myself and put a cold sweaty hand on a dusty table. I rubbed my neck and noticed the tables weren’t... tables were they? No legs, solid wood from bottom to top, ornate too. Shaped like a fancy coffin, but of course couldn’t be, who would keep a coffin in their living room? Urns decorated the walls. A little morbid for my taste but hey, who really knew the rigors of age. Maybe a little old lady’s friends were in there.\n\n \n\nBefore I took a step one of insides of the tables made a scratching sound. A rat, probably, yeah. Old people’s houses freaked me out. Urns and rats, what a creepy combo. Again. The scratching happened twice. Those sounds were not coincidence—it didn’t matter did it, I just needed to leave.\n\n \n\nThe odd-shaped furniture shifted, and with it I went from heading towards the door to going back to my locker. I made a desperate attempt to blend in with...it? This wasn’t a locker, this was like those tables. Carved into it were reliefs of figures holding capes and turning into bats. Eccentric, but I enjoyed this kind of high-fantasy art too.\n\n \n\nI heard a heavy lid grind off something. Taking a peek I saw a man, not young but not old. Very pale skin, translucent even. And pin straight black hair slicked back. His clothes matched the pitch of his hair...ah, I wagged a finger at myself, I see. Goths. Everyone knows a few goths, but this was definitely this one’s house. Didn’t see any at the party but, you know, goths are always the corner-type of people, you can miss them unless you look for them. The man’s body bent over and his face got caught in the ray.\n\n \n\nScreaming bloody murder. A puff of smoke went up as he recoiled and flew into the corner of the room. Damn, I wish I had that much energy when I woke up. Guy should wear sunblock if he’s that sensitive to light. He took a hand away from his face and a black scar ran a fat vertical line from his widow’s peak to his chin. He’s really sensitive to light. Unblinking yellow eyes felt like they went right through me.\n\n“Alena, awake already?” He asked me with an emotionless smile and a squinting eye.\n\n“Oh uh...” I tried faking a sincere yawn, stretching, “Absolutely, oh man.”\t\n\nThe guy took heavy exact steps, the floorboards creaked and the other tables began shifting too. Going around my upright table he got close. He didn’t breath once but the air wafting from his still mouth smelled of metal. Is there a reason he isn’t breathing? I tried smelling my own breath for a second, nothing crazy, just beer and morning, normal. I could tell his right eye was burnt white now, maybe he couldn’t see me so well, if I was lucky.\n\n \n\t\n“Hey listen, I gotta jet-” I took a step and he copied, never taking his eyes off mine. The tops of the other tables came off one-by-one, was that...more goths?! It was a whole den of them. Jesus, this wasn’t 2004, how many were there?\n\t\n \n\nThe scarred goth got right in my face and his eyes flitted up and down my body, “You’re not Alena.”\n\n“No- I mean yeah, I am Alena. Obviously.”\nAs I shuffled back and forth dancing with this goth I saw more of them in the room walking around casually, talking among each other and cleaning up the place. \n\nA tall goth walked over to the curtains and closed the crack of light to the outside, the sun really was kryptonite to these people.\n\n \n\n“Mordtimer come here,” the scarred goth’s soft voice carried far and another long-haired goth trying far too hard to be a biker dude came over. These goths certainly deviated from how I thought they dressed. \n\n“Yeah, what’s up?”\n\n“Is this Alena?”\n\nThe long-haired goth got close to me, I struggled to remember the last time someone cared this much about how much I smelled. “Does this look like Alena to you Nemesus? Get your shit together man, you’re not that old.”\n\nI tried laughing it off, taking a few quick steps to the nearest door. With incredible speed the tall goth stood between me and what looked like the only way out.\n\n \n\n“Alright,” I forced another fake laugh, “You got me! I’m not Alena, can I still leave though?”\n\nThe long-haired goth made a toothy smile, his incisors were sharp as hell. “You’re a human, aren’t you?”\n\n“Uh...” I shrugged, “yes I am!” Of course I was, I know I was disheveled but talk about rude. They began howling and bellowing at the ceiling.\n\n \n\nThese people were taking this far too seriously. I tried appealing to their little game they wanted to play. I slapped my hands together and gave them what I thought was an appropriate standing ovation for their effort, “You people are good at role-playing this shit, really.”\n\n \n\nTheir ritualistic yelling died down and I could tell I either offended them so hard they wanted to kill me, or they never got a compliment on their Hot Topic cosplay in their life.\n\n“Your human compliments aren’t going to stop us from sucking your blood, whoever you are,” one of them said to me. \n\nThink, think. They’re goths, yes, but they went to the rave, probably. Drugs, everyone liked drugs. Touching my pocket I still had a baggie of E on me, \n\n“Listen, how about no one sucks my blood, and instead I give you something worth a lot more than...blood,” I put the word in air-quotes—like they’re going to physically drain me or something, crazy talk.\n\n“More than blood? We live off blood darling, what can you give us more than life?” The tall one asked.\n\n“Uhhh,” goth riddles, think back. I strained my memory trying to remember MySpace, what was the answer to this. “I can give you freedom- er, happiness.”\n\nThey looked at each other, the scarred one took a solemn step forward, “Show us.”\n\n \n\nScrambling around my dusty pocket I grabbed the well-worn baggie and pulled it out. Placing it on my hand I counted the pills: three, six, six and a half. Half? Explains where I winded up I guess.\n\nI took my free hand and made an imaginary sprinkling gesture over the bag, “This is what we call in the human world...drugs!” I tried grinning big, showmanship was an important aspect of not getting beaten to death in Grandma’s goth house.\n\nThe scarred goth looked at what I’m guessing are his friends? And put a pale hand out. “We’ll take them, but if you’re trying to deceive us we will do more than just suck your blood and leave your body dry. Do you understand?” \n\n \n\nI made a grimace and put a thumbs up, of course you will goth Ray Liotta.\n\n \n\nOne-by-one each of the three goths took a pill. Three and a half left, not so bad for not getting the shit beaten out of me I guess. I can always make the money back somehow.\n\n \n\nFor a minute nothing happened, I stood there, awkwardly kicking dust around. Then as sudden as lightning all began staring around the room, their eyes were wider than saucers. Holy hell they were tripping. The tall one began leaning, her back was against the wall with her legs splayed in front of her. Long-haired goth over there by the curtains looked like he was ballroom dancing with a candelabra and the scarred dude was...slow-motion boxing with the table I found myself in, rubbing his fists against the sides. I opened the door and took a longing look at the bunch, when they weren’t threatening to suck my blood they looked like any other partygoer freaks.\n\n \n\nWalking down crimson morning street I felt pretty good for sleeping in a wooden box. It was time to recoup, recharge, and get ready for the next weekend’s hustle. I looked at my baggie, a long hard stare. Throwing it into a bush I kept walking. Maybe it was time to get a normal job.\n"
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[WP] One day, your alarm wakes you up at 10 am. You expect the sun to be shining into your eyes through the window but instead, you see it is still dark outside
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"It was a late morning. I don't usually stay in bed this late, but last night I went out with old college friends. I didn't have the chance to see them for at least 5 years now. We went out to a local bar and we had waaaay too many drinks.\n\nI'm staring at my alarm clock: 10:02am. It's been two minutes since my alarm rang and I still have a hard time processing. I reach out to take the glass of water that sits on my nightstand. I guess my past self was smart enough to know that I would need it this morning.\n\nI keep staring at the clock. Why is it still dark outside? It should definitely be late enough for the sun to be up. I start to wonder if my clock is at the wrong time. Maybe electricity went out and it reset? No, it normally blinks when it resets. \n\nI reach out to find my phone and confirm the time. Where's my phone? I usually leave it right there, next to that glass of water. I guess past self wasn't so smart after all. I check under the covers and I lift my pillow. I lower myself to the floor and check under the table and the bed. \n\n\"Nope. Can't find it.\" The clock now read 10:04 am.\n\nI open the blinds and confirm that the street is dark like a basement with no windows. The streets light are probably programed to open only at night. The sky is dark and I can't seem to see a single star. \n\nI'm starting to panic. This feel very unnatural and, knowing it should be daytime, it kind of creeps me out. \n\n`---`\n\nLast night was interesting. You see, my friend Thomas has since started working for some astrophysics company. The work he does is under strict confidentiality and he's not able to share any details of his research. But as we had more and more drinks, he started to share some fuzzy details to me. He felt oddly disconnected.\n\nHe mentioned there was recently the discovery of strong evidence that a ninth planet was present in our solar system. But no scientists were able to find the precious planet yet. But, he started suggesting he might be on the verge of something. \n\nIn his opinion, there's new evidence that would suggest the planet is much bigger than we expected. It is also likely that the astral body is actually from outside of our solar system. He suggested it is traveling at an incredible speed, like a bullet. The energy of such a big object could cause the balance to shift in our equilibrium. \n\n`---`\n\nI hear a text ringtone coming from the kitchen. I close the blinds and run to my phone, sitting on the kitchen table. \n\nText from Thomas\n\"It has already started\""
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[WP] You are sent into a fully equipped and stocked space station as a test to see how a single person can handle daily life in space. Moments after getting settled, you look out only to see the Earth shatter.
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"I open the hatch and head into the new space station. It smells brand new, almost like a new car that has yet to be driven off the lot. The main passage leading from my rocket to the station is desolate, full of dark, gray cables and panels but the inside of the station is homey. It is brightly lit, pictures and art adorn the walls selected by me. I was adamant on the wall decor, if I'm living alone I am at least choosing my own decorations. This might be nice, I think to myself, I have so many video games, books and TV shows to catch up on anyway. \n\nAs I start to settle I feel the station vibrate, just a bit at first but it quickly starts shaking. This is bad. There shouldn't be anything out in space that can just make my station shake. Maybe something is wrong with the stabilizers, they might jetting off air or leaking. \"Ain,\" short for Artificial Intelligence Network, \"pull up the video from all outside cameras.\" The TV turns on and on it is the live feed from 10 different cameras. I can't make sense of anything. There is no Earth to help orient me, the angles must just be bad. Looking at all the feeds I can just make out some objects moving away from my station, scattering in all directions. They look like shooting stars, a white and red glistening object, absolutely beautiful. It's a miracle I wasn't hit by any smaller debris, just a small chunk at those speeds is enough to blow me apart. \"Thank jesus\" I mutter to myself as I go back and look for Earth. Still I can't find it. Why can't I find it? \n\n\"AIN, show me Earth,\" I yell out, a little worried now. There is no response. \"AIN\" I shout again. A minute goes by and still nothing. The network can't be down, we designed it so it would never fail, with multiple servers spread out across the globe. Thinking, I go to the operations room where I can manually control the cameras and look for Earth. Panic starts setting in. I fidget with the controls struggling to move each camera as I rotate them 360 degrees. With each camera I try I become more desperate. There is no way that the Earth is gone, I think to myself, they just launched me not 5 hours ago. As i move the last camera I still can't find it. I go back and redo each camera, I have to have missed it, I just know I missed it. It's out there, I just can't find it but if I keep looking I will. My thoughts are barely coherent now. I'm trying not to fall in despair. Tears start forming and now I can barely see the screens through them. I just goodbye to my parents earlier today. They have to be there. My youngest sister, only 16, wished me luck as I left. My older brother couldn't be there, he couldn't take the days off. \"Where are they?\" I manage to mutter out. I want to see my family, screw the Earth, I just need my family. By this point I know what's happened. Even if I don't want to believe it, it's pretty simple to piece it together but I have to make sure. Going through the recent recordings I find pull up all the feeds and rewind them. It only takes a few seconds to move through all the video and in those few seconds I can tell. The Earth just fell apart. The meteors I saw must have been pieces of it shooting away. I don't even bother to watch the footage. I can't watch it or even think about it. There is nothing worth thinking about anymore. ",
"“I’m not sure how to begin, but I figure I should start with my name. Scottie Marsden, at your service. Sorry if I sound a bit weird, I spent the last few hours doing a lot of screaming trying to reach... well, anyone. As far as I can tell, I’m one of the last humans alive. I’m making this log from the Odyssey Space Station. I figure maybe if someone comes across this, it might be helpful. Hey, maybe even aliens might find out about humans from it.”\n\n“Uh, well, I guess I should explain, before I pass out. This was a test, to see his long someone with a standard psych eval- someone who was chosen as being completely mentally sound- could handle life isolated in space. Routine contact would be made between ground and me, of course, but by and large I’d be on my own. When I couldn’t handle more I’d head down. That was the plan. Then when I settled in and sat down to talk to ground control, Earth just... exploded. So now I’m on my own. This station is self-sustaining, so I can survive indefinitely. Massive food and water stores, automated farming, water and air recycling. Solar powered, and artificial gravity from this thing spinning around. Perfect living conditions, except for the whole being alone thing. I’m gonna try and figure some thing out, I’ll be back with a log hopefully tomorrow.” \n\n___________________________________________\n\n“Scottie here. I just watched the International Space Station get obliterated. I got in contact with them for the whole of ten minutes, I could even see them from a viewport with an adjustable lens. We were making plans to dock, so that way we could all survive, but then some of the debris from Earth crushed it like a tin can. I’ve been looking over my shoulder for hours now, hoping I don’t get smeared against a rock like- them. I really think I’m alone up here. Log out.”\n\n____________________________________________\n\n“Hey, Scottie again. It’s been a couple days since my last log. I haven’t been feeling up to it. Uh... you know what’s fucked? Sometimes I look out the window, and I think I see Earth. Not a cluster of rocks, but Earth. Blue and beautiful. Then I blink and it’s gone. A fucking trip, man. It’s really lonely up here. I like to pretend nothing went wrong, that I’m just waiting to talk to ground. This is all part of the data collection, right? It never works. I just feel afraid. This helps, a little. I’ve heard stories of people caving faster. Maybe knowing that even if I wanted to, I can’t go back to people is helping me. I spend most of my time doing maintenance. Keeps me busy. End of log.” \n\n____________________________________________\n\n“Scottie reporting. Y’know, I’ve been thinking, I wish I talked to more people. There was this one girl. Shelby. She was beautiful. Witty and damn smart. I kind of wish I’d spoken to her. Told her how I felt, really. Most people didn’t realize just how much brain was behind her breasts. She loved cats and coffee a little too much, truthfully. I miss her. We weren’t even involved. Ugh, whatever.”\n\n____________________________________________\n\n“I might kill myself. I have nothing to care for, nobody is looking at the data. What’s the point? If this is my last log, you know what happened. 17 days of isolation.” \n\n_____________________________________________\n\nScottie rises from his chair, gaunt despite being well-fed. Haggard from isolation and his new reality, he shuffles around the station. Cleaning the same windows, the same floors again. He thinks he sees Earth as it once was, but turns away. The pain of so much loss falls squarely onto his shoulders. \n\nAs distant as the stars that surround him, he enters the medical bay, heading for a cabinet filled with a whole manner of drugs which could take the pain away. After a moment’s hesitation, he removes a bag of morphine. More than enough to do what he needed. It wouldn’t feel bad, he’d just drift off, plugging syringes into himself until he couldn’t anymore. \n\nHolding a large needle, he fills it with the morphine silently, numb to his small reality. Giving the glass an expert flick, he rolls up his sleeve. No need to sanitize. Biting onto his shirt collar, he moves to inject himself. \n\n“HELLO? Scottie, are you there? Scottie, you need to stop.” Jumping in fright, he drops the needle, finally breaking out of his stupor as it shatters against the austere metal. \n\n“Who said that? What’s going on?” He looks around, his eyes wild, grabbing a scalpel from an operating cabinet. He stands at the ready, the blade before him as if it was some great weapon. Silence drags on, one, two, thirty seconds. His legs give beneath him, a hollow laugh ringing out from his shaking form. He must look ridiculous. It must’ve been a hallucination, after all. \n\n_____________________________________________\n\n“Supreme Emperor Scottie here, I’m alive! I dunno, I’m not ready to die, not yet. Now that I’m the last man alive, the way I see it I’m the foremost authority on, well, everything. So I’ve been acting accordingly. Doing some writing, a little bit of chemistry, some mathematics. Anything I want to do, I can. Haven’t worn clothes in a while now, but I kind of want a cape. Being the leader of the human race needs some gravity, eh? I’ll get back to you guys when I finish my autobiography.” \n\n_____________________________________________\n\n“I learned that trying to write an actual book about yourself is pretty damn hard. I can’t even settle on a title, honestly. It doesn’t really matter, I can describe everything in a few pages. I’m finding it hard to embellish. Maybe I’ll just slide in a few great journeys and exploits. Nobody’s around to prove me wrong anyways. You know what would’ve been amazing for this trip? An AI. Something that could help me out so I wouldn’t have to contact ground control. No use crying over spilled milk, I guess. Log over.” \n\n“Wait, I’m back! I forgot to mention, I’ve stopped seeing Earth like it used to be. I guess that means I’m accepting the truth of my situation. It’s really liberating. Alright, that’s it for now. Aloha!” \n\n_____________________________________________\n\n“Guess who’s back! It’s me, Scottie. You thought it was someone else? Nope, they’re all dead. It’s been forty-seven days since Earth exploded, and I’m feeling pretty alright! I got really wound up the other day so I took some pills, but I’m good now. I put them back because that shit scares me. It felt too good. I figure I’ll end it on day sixty-nine. Go out on a high note. By the way, I killed a big dragon in my autobiography and imprisoned it on Mars. Cool, right? Alright, I’m out for today. Wanna try and write some smut.” \n\n_____________________________________________\n\nOn the morning of the sixty-ninth day, Scottie awoke with a leisurely stretch, getting out of bed and donning a surgical smock modified to be a functional, albeit slightly pathetic cape. He takes precious care in grooming himself, shaving and brushing his teeth, giving himself a haircut as best he could. He preferred it long anyways, and he thought he looked rather heroic like this. A nicely groomed beard, with flowing locks to match. Back home he’d gone bald, but that was behind him now. \n\nAfter this routine, he makes himself a cup of coffee. He savors every sip, letting the aroma take over his senses, closing his eyes and reveling in the ecstasies of life. He would’ve liked to scroll through the news, but... of course. Truth be told he wasn’t hungry, and so immaculately groomed and radiant in the way only a man prepared for his death could be, he makes his was down to the medical bay. \n\nHumming softly to himself, he went through that same dance he had done so many days ago, this time with purpose. He brings the instruments of his doom to a viewport facing the ruins of Earth, marveling at the spectacle it makes. Shattered rock and metal, drifting and smashing into itself. The stars highlighting the silent chaos, the Sun a quiet storm its own. \n\nWiping his arm with alcohol, he readies the needle for his final moments of peace. His eyes never move from this shattered version of Earth. Of his home. He has no tears left for it. \n\n_____________________________________________\n\n“Alright Scottie, that’s enough. We’re coming to get you out.” A voice rings out. That same one he had heard before. He froze, frowning slightly. He shakes his head, focusing back on the syringe. \n\n“Scottie, you’re not hearing things. This is Michelle Falter, the head of the Odyssey program. We’ve spoken before. You told me that if you for any reason refused to believe it was us, we were supposed to say...” she pauses, and Scottie sighs in frustration. Couldn’t be die in peace? “...Luz raised you with some help from John and Rocco.” \n\nSetting the needle down, he feels his stomach churning, the coffee threatening to come up. \n\n“That’s not possible. I can see you all now. You’re dead.” \n\n“Ah, that’s not true. We... took some liberties with the conditions of the test. Look at the viewport again.” \n\nHe turns slowly, peering at the unyielding glass. What was she talking about? Then, all at once it filled with Earth, whole again. Verdant, the lights shining in the night. A hurricane spins above the Pacific. It looks so real, he thinks to himself. \n\n“Every viewport, camera, and device on the station was altered to give the impression that you very well were the last human being alive. The effects of this were obviously significant on your psyche, but it’s over now. We’re coming to get you. Sit tight.” \n\nHer words are lost on him. Scottie stares at the world he had lost, silent and closed from the rest of the universe he had once been so alone in. ",
"I was excited for that day. I, out of all people, had been chosen for this program. I finally got to go to space! I got to fulfill my lifelong dream! \n\nIt was almost too good to be true. Pretty much everything I need for several years, just packed away up here with me. It was gonna be great!\n\nSuddenly, I heard an alarm go off behind me. An image is pulled up on my monitor.\n\nI look at the shattered pieces of the once verdant world I had just left float through space. \n\n\"Well...that was unfortunate.\"",
"The year is 2123, the 2nd of March... Jesus fucking Christ, what does it even matter?... Umm... I guess, it's been about 13.8 billion years, or cycles around this star, since the beginning of the universe. Well, not literally... fuck... I-I guess you'll figure it out somehow. God... I guess I should just say this with the hope that at least someone will use this as some weird decoration, if nothing else. Alright, umm...\n\nIt's the 2nd of March, 2123. Approximately 6 weeks ago, almost exactly that much ago in fact, I got told the worst joke imaginable. My mission, here on Cerberus Station, was to test human suvivability in the conditions of a space station. The station was supposed to support up to 100 people for extended periods of time; mainly military personel, some research and support crew, and their families where relevant. If need be, under normal circumstances, it should be able to support said people for over a century. It's designation was as a sentry outpost against incoming Earth-threatening objects. Mainly rogue asteroids. Well... that's what the public knew, but it's all irrelevant now. I was to test this facility for 6 months and then prepare it for a full crew. Looks like preparations will be for nothing.\n\nI arrived at Cerberus 1 within planned parameters. Green lights on everything. Everything on schedule, flawless docking, clear comms, even from the airlock it looked like this would be uneventful. \"Thank all the gods\", I thought to myself as I stepped into the first corridor of the station. Ground Control was going on and on in my earpiece about something, probably standard procedures, something they always did in a robot-like, automated fashion. I was too... umm... I was engulfed by the beauty that was the pale blue dot. You know, even if a good descriptor, close by it's more than just a dot. Unprofessional of me, I guess. I didn't notice Control until they weren't droning in my ears anymore. A brief silence, followed by just... static. Some words here and there, maybe. It's a bit fuzzy. After that, the pale blue dot started to almost swell, that's what it looked like. Cracks in the perfect shape of the major tectonic plates, clarly red, radiating, and then a snap... just shards. I must've imagined it, there's no way I heard a snap. Maybe that's why I didn't believe it. \"Ha ha, very funny, guys!\" I called to Ground Control \"Who made the CG? Ramirez? Even *his* untalented ass could've made it better.\"... God... This is... That first static. I... I thought it was part of the act. I gave them time to laugh it off. I thought \"Yeah, they'll get bored in about half an hour when I don't play along\". Man, was I in for a rude awakening.\n\nA couple of minutes, I think, went by and the whole station shook. Were it not for the inertial dampeners, I would've flown across the room. The low hum of the station's thrusters still gives me chills. Something was horribly wrong. They weren't supposed to start unless the station went off-orbit. Blinking red lights, and an alarm is most I can remember. Instinctually, I bring up live diagnostics of the station on my HUD. Half of Wing Beta was red. I rushed there in the blink of an eye. The computer had already sealed the section off. It's gone. When I realised what had happened... It's... My heart still races just thinking about it. I almost threw up. An asteroid at least the size of the Eiffel Tower, maybe even more than 400m in diameter hit the station... and it came from... gods... it came from the direction of Earth. How? How is this even possible? What in the world is going on? I felt myself slipping away. Going mad. I was shaking my head in denial. Control was still just static... *is* still just static... I tried to play it off, tried to stay calm and collected, but I just... How? How could I do it? I couldn't sleep. That didn't help either. For the first time in my life I contemplated suicide. Fuck, I'm an idiot!... I won't. I can't. Not like this. It's funny, I always strived to live forever... and I was contemplating... Fuck!... No, one way I was going to do it was through other people's memories. \"Like Alexander, or Caesar, or Newton\" I always thought. Immortality through the world's consciousness. Fuckin' hell... I guess this is my last ditch effort. Maybe someone-\n\n***\n\n\"Pause. That's enough. I've heard what I needed to hear. This is definitely it.\" a voice, similar yet more grave than the recording, slightly jumbled through comms, speaks out. \n\"Are you certain, captain?\" another voice, softer, clearer yet still digitized responds. \n\"Yeah.\" The man, in his military issue EVA suit, stands up grunting after a prolonged squat. He takes out a card out of the device he was holding and inserts it into his wrist guard. \"Here, transcribe this into text please. I hate my recoded voice.\" \n\"I think it sounds just fine.\" \n\"Thanks, Kat, but I'll take the transcript.\" His voice dims somewhat, as he looks around the room making sure nobody is around. Out of reflex more than anything. \"Make sure to encrypt it until we get back. Just in case.\" \n\"Very well, captain. Do we need anything else?\"\n\"This should be enough. I revealed a lot in this. Not exactly my most sane, or shining moments.\" \nA pause hangs in the air for a couple of seconds. \n\"Sounds personal. Should I forget the recording after I'm done transcribing?\" asks Kat, in a voice that betrays concern. \n\"No, no, it's fine. Just... a heads-up. That's me probably at my darkest.\" \n\"I understand.\" \n\"Besides, I'll need the help of an AI to figure this out again after all this time. You're the best there is. Wouldn't make sense to hinder you like that.\" \nHer processes want to respond with something, but she doesn't. \n\"We'll tell them we haven't found anything. Maybe it actually isn't anything, but I can't shake this sinking feeling. Whatever they... *we* were researching here can't have been good. I can't let these nutjobs get their hands on it.\"\n\nEdit: formatting",
"You will be all alone, they said. It will be fun, they said. No rules for you, they said.\n\nWelp, they are dead. I don't know, but maybe they are.\n\nWho could imagine, that just mere moments of entering the space station, I would be the last of my species. No, the last of my planet. I hardly grasped the noise. It felt like a soda can pop and fizzle out.\n\nI have no family. I have no friends. I have no culture other than the mere belongings I could bring here.\n\nLooking out the big window, I can see fragments of Alaska drifting away. Or is it North Pole? Wait, is that the torch of Statue of Liberty? This feels surreal, like a scene from some post apocalyptic movie.\n\nAnd the alarms start beeping. Not good. NOT GOOD!\n\nThe station is shifting. Not only is it's rotating speed has increased, but due to gaseous pressure released from Earth, it's starting to slowly move away like a frisbee. Earth was 408 km away 10 minutes ago.\n\n\"Captain, you need to take control panels manually.\" Yes, AI, I can do that.\n\nOh god. These are the only kind of conversations I am going to have. Ever.\n\n\"AI, reverse boosters, conserve fuel to last till it can.\"\n\n\"Affirmative. Fuel conservation program has begun and calculated to last 300 days.\"\n\nThree hundred days. 7200 hours.\n\n\"AI, calculate time to stop any motion or movement of the station. I need it to stop rotating or move away from Cape Town.\"\n\n\"Calculating...\"\n\n\"AI, also must calculate my chances of survival with current rations in station.\"\n\n\"Captain, we have lost connection with Cape Town.\" Right. I didn't think this through.\n\nIronically, I launched off from Cape of Good Hope.\n\n\"AI, calculations on keeping this station stationary?\"\n\n\"With fuel conservation on, this can happen in 168 hours, 18 minutes.\"\n\n\"AI, you have my go ahead. I am going into the cryo\\-chamber.\"\n\n\"Unadvisable, Captain. You are needed for quick reactions with manual controls.\"\n\n\"Who died and made you my boss?\"\n\n\"Cannot comprehend. Are you interested in knowing who died or the famous people who died today?\"\n\n\"Shut up, AI. Do the math. Wake me up when we pass the moon.\"\n\n\"Kindly confirm if you're referring to Moon of Earth, or Phobos, moon of Mars, or Deimos, moon of Mars\\-\"\n\n\"AI, calculate time away from Earth's Moon. Prepare spacecraft to orbit the moon for 60 hours. Wake me up from cryo\\-chambers in 50 hours.\"\n\n\"Affirmative. Trajectory calculated and actioned. Good night, Captain.\"\n\nEntering the cryo\\-chambers, I couldn't fathom it correctly. Fuck, there's no one out there. No one. I can't even dream of bringing in a dog here now. Fuck.\n\n\"AI, as I prepare immerse, kindly play Beatles songs on to the nearest speakers. Start with the song 'Yesterday'. Continue this activity for 1 hour.\"\n\nAfter I laid my head down on the cushion, covered in this gelatinous liquid like chemical, I felt cold and numb. I could here some of the music, but my thoughts were going no where. I think I am going into shock. I closed my eyes, losing my conciousness with Lennon doubletracking on the speaker.\n\n\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\n\n\"Well ladies and gentleman, there you have it! This is are first special of Big Brother in Space where everything is made up and the minds don't matter. The April Fool's prank has been set up successfully! In our next episode, watch what happens when the 'AI' \\- that is our friends in the studio \\- decide to play videos of his family and friends as a reminder. It will be tear jerker!\"",
"I would say that this is my nightmare, but I'm not that creative. I was told this would be the adventure of a lifetime. A test of the human spirit, of the human race. I was the guinea pig. Monitored and tested so that one day we could leave the clutches of our solar system on manned missions. It was the first step towards something great and new. Now it was all gone. I was the last. Well, maybe not the last. There were people on Mars but they were reliant on shipments from Earth so they would be dead soon anyway. \n\nThe Earth was gone. For a while I tried to radio the scientists but I was quickly thrown out of the orbit of the shattered object, and flung through space. The remnants of Earth were far away. Thankfully I wasn't spinning. The RCS had made sure of that. I didn't have thrusters on this though. Just enough to stop dizzying motion but not enough to get to Mars. Not that it would have mattered anyway. \n\nThe last Human. The last one. That was a thought. I could try and freeze my eggs up here but I'm a astronaut not a... well, whatever doctor freezes eggs. I never bothered to learn. But that wouldn't help the species. A man would have had to get the other half so if an alien ever picked this craft up they may even laugh at my hubris. My vain attempt at saving the species. There were people on Mars though. I was traveling faster and faster away from them every second. I had no way of calculating my speed or changing direction but I knew where Mars was in the night sky. Or at least the general direction. I downloaded all the information on the ship and sent it to their relay. They never responded. \n\nHell, with all the debris they might have gotten hit. I looked around my ship for something, anything that would help. I was useless, in a ship that couldn't move, in the endless abyss of space, alone. I sighed and sat in a chair. I had enough supplies and the ability to make more. This was a multi\\-year task. I could live to the biological end of my life. Maybe not happy but at least alive. I had books, I had TV shows downloaded, I even had a endless supply of electronic Solitaire. I frowned as I looked back toward the astroid field that was where Earth once sat. I pressed my hand against the glass. I would live as long as I could. If not for me, then for all that had died early, for all those that had been left behind. ",
"((This is my first prompt and I'm kinda high, please be gentle.))\n\n\"Hmm... this is kinda cool!\" \\- I thought to myself.\n\n\"I definitely can't see my home from here, but at least I can see my continent...\"\n\nAmerica... What a beautiful sight, even from up here. In the calmness of space, in the eternal darkness... an almost glowing point of reference surrounded by the blue oceans.\n\n\"What a great.... FUCK. What's happening?\" \\- I gasp for air as I watch the Earth shatter violently with explosions. It looks like a big watermelon busting right open.\n\n\"This can't be real. I must be dreaming. WHAT'S HAPPENING!?\" \\- I demand an answer, but no one's there to hear.\n\nI look around my space station for the first time since I arrived. I'm not sure what I'm looking for and I'm still shaking.\n\nI've just landed here, and as soon as I looked out the window – Earth was gone. My home. My family. My friends. Everyone I loved and even those assholes I hated... gone.\n\nBut not me...\n\nWhy?\n\nIs this an accident? Or was it planned by those NASA eggheads?\n\nThere were too many of them left down at the station when I launched. They would've known. They would've wanted to escape too.\n\nOr were they just blindly following orders? Not knowing about the apocalyps?\n\nWell, I'll have plenty of time to find out.\n\nThey told me I'll have to spend a year here, and I'm all supplied. If I were to make it, my life on Earth would be all set. I could have retired at 30. Or at least that's what I was promised.\n\nBut by the looks of it, my pension plan got fucked.\n\nAs I look around the station, I notice a huge screen staring back at me. I can't seem to find any way to control it. There is but a single button on the console.\n\nOkay, nothing WORSE can happen... right?\n\nI press the button.\n\nThe screen glows with a super\\-bright white color that almost blinds me. Then a loud, unbearable screech follows. Fingers on the chalkboard. Kids screaming. The death wail of your childhood pup as he gets hit by a car. I can't place it.\n\nJust terrible fucking sound.\n\nAnywhere I look, I can't escape the bright light. It's like its mirrored across the whole station.\n\nI can't tell if this goes on for 5 minutes, 10 minutes, half an hour, or more. But then it finally stops.\n\nAs I try to get back to my senses, I notice a familiar face stare back at me from the big screen that displayed the light.\n\nThen I hear it...\n\n\"Ey Survivor! It's your boi ol' Musky!\"\n\n\"What the fuck. They must have drugged me. It must be some super weird reality TV that I accidentally signed up for...\" \\- I think for myself, but the voice continues...\n\n\"Well, in my new form, anyway. See... I kinda transplanted my brain into this machine that gives me some abilities ex\\-earthlings would call... godlike.\"\n\n\"What have you done to... everything?\" \\- I interrupt the voice of Elon Musk.\n\n\"Everything isn't a valid concept. But if you mean the big explosion you've seen, Earth disappearing. If you're concerned about what happened to your loved ones, almost everyone you knew... and well, humanity as you know it... Good news!\"\n\n\"Oh was that all a simulation then? I knew SpaceX wouldn't...\"\n\n\"No, no, no. That really happened. They're all dead. That's the good news, you don't have to worry about them anymore.\"\n\n\"What the fuck?! Why? And why am I here? Am I the only one?\"\n\n\"Well, you've signed up with us to test daily life in space. We've chosen you based on certain criteria I will not disclose because I don't want to influence the outcome of the test... much. But this was all in the contract. Haven't you read it? Oh well. No one does. You're not the only one ex\\-earthling remaining, by the way.\"\n\n\"Stop calling us that! Where are the others? On this same space ship?\"\n\n\"I'm sorry, Survivor. I didn't mean to hurt your feeewings.\"\n\n\"YOU'VE KILLED EVERYONE I EVER LOVED OR EVEN REMOTELY LIKED!\"\n\n\"Calm down. That wasn't me.\"\n\n\"No?\"\n\n\"It was all those high\\-tech explosives my company's employees unknowingly deployed in our underground tunnels meant to solve traffic problems. I just pulled the trigger, so to speak. But hey, the traffic problem is also kinda solved now. One more point for ol' Musky.\"\n\n\"WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU? WHY DID YOU DO ALL THIS?\"\n\n\"Isn't it obvious? Ha\\-ha! Because I could.\"\n\n...\n\n\"Anyway, I'll tell you the next steps, Survivor. You can rage all you want. Or you can listen. As we've promised, you've got to spend one year here and you're supplied. \n\nAfter that?\n\nYou're all set for retirement on my new colony. That's it. Just as promised! Now I might pop in every once in a while, I might sing you for your birthday or something. But other than that, you're on your own. Daily life in space. Brought to you by the Boring Company! Isn't that exciting? See you in a year.\"\n\nThe screen went blank. Lights returned to normal.\n\nI'm all set.\n\nIf things go sour, I've found a flamethrower I might be able to use to kill myself.\n\nSo long."
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[WP] So there you are, your foot is totally stuck, you're freaking out, the dog's having a seizure, and you still have half a pie left.
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"“How do you feel about blueberry pie?”\n\nI should have told the truth, that I hate blueberries and pie is just a poor man’s version of a calzone. Instead, I did what any rational man hoping to ingratiate himself to his soon\\-to\\-be mother\\-in\\-law would do and announced, “It’s my favorite!”\n\nAt worst, I thought, she’d serve me a slice and I’d politely pick around the edges until I could hide it in my napkin. My face when she handed me the whole pie tray probably didn’t have the pleasantly surprised look I was going for; more like wide\\-eyed regret with a side of forced smile.\n\n“It’s family tradition! First one to finish their pie gets the comfy seat all year.”\n\nWhile everyone else was diving into their pies fork first, I was desperately trying to think of a plan. No way could I force myself to eat more than a few bites without some partially digested blueberries making an unfortunate reappearance. As I glanced around the room searching for inspiration, my eyes landed on the perfect solution: Randy. Fifty pounds thin and always hungry, this bulldog could be the answer to my prayers.\n\nThe first handoff was terrifying. I thought for sure I’d be caught, but I replaced my (now slobber\\-coated) hand above the table with no one the wiser. I managed almost half the pie that way before it happened.\n\n“Randy? What’s wrong, boy?”\n\nRandy had started shaking and producing a concerning cross between a whimper and a whine.\n\nI should’ve come clean at that point, but, frankly, I was in too deep. My singular goal as everyone gathered around the distressed canine remained the same – eliminate the pie. This could be just the diversion I needed.\n\nThe open window beckoned from across the room. With everyone’s focus on the dog, I’d have a few moments to sneak over and drop the evidence into the hydrangeas below.\n\nIf only I’d kept my eyes on the ground instead of looking over to make sure no one was watching. The room\\-filling squeak of Randy’s chew toy as my foot landed through the bars of his crate was enough to ensure everyone looked my way.\n\nSo here I am. My foot is totally stuck, I’m freaking out, the dog's having a seizure, and I still have half a pie left. The look Marybeth is giving me makes me wonder if I can still get the deposit back from the wedding venue.\n\nHonestly, this might be worse than the potato fiasco with my last fiancé."
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[WP] You stumble upon a genie's lamp, and rub it. Out comes a beautiful genie, who tells you she will grant you one wish, but she doesnt tell you about the catch. Whatever you wish for, you will have an unstoppable compulsion to achieve through natural means, or die trying.
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"\"One wish? That's an easy choice, genie.\n\n\"I've battled OCD since I was a child, and being rid of that would give me the freedom to pursue a better life in ways that I've never dared imagine. Nothing else I could ask for would make such a profound difference in my life, or in the lives of my wife and kids.\n\n\"Genie, I wish to be finally and totally free from compulsions.\"\n\n\"Your wish is--*GRANTED!*\" she screamed, and a moment later her head exploded in a glittering cloud.\n\n*Wow*, he thought happily as he walked away, *I didn't even feel a need to clean that up!*"
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[WP] You are a new ambassador to a widely unknown country. When you arrive for the first time, you see that it's populated by a hyper-intelligent inhuman species.
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"\"Now I assure you they won't bite.\" The masked face the solider wore didn't help my anxiety with this, even if they were gruffly stoic, unapproachable and one of few words. Alendra was a rather new middle eastern country on the list, it was marked as heavily populated yet there was no sign of activity on these streets. Dust blew over the dirt roads, swirling around the darkly lit shacks. It's surprising I'm even issued to this dump. \nThe solider held a pointed gun firmly, looking as though they would shove me out of the armored truck before I did so myself. I was a bit of a mess at this time, especially with my fuzzy tissues. I stuffed two up my nostrils to keep out the dirt, covering my face with a wild sheet of paper I brandished. It may be harmless but hopefully it gives a punch in legal terms. The wind tugged me to one side, pulling me to the vast wastes of the valley beyond this small village. The figure pursued behind, keeping a distance with the rifle at their side. Something *had* to be here.\n\n\"Hello? Is anyone there?\" I whined, peeking into the largest of the several huts. They were all sand ridden, but this one seemed more worn down than expected. I kept my pace and stepped inside. There was quite a bit of room inside the hut yet I had to bow my head from the ceiling. It seemed as though it would collapse any moment. My heart jumped when the wind shifted slightly, combined with a small flash of an object in that dark. Clicks. Gurgles. I sprinted out; gripping the paper. My guard twitched in reflex, pointing it past me. We waited in the now softer wind metres outside the hut. Something shifted again. A figure approaching. I whispered softly to the guard not to shoot, but I don't trust them at this moment for them not to. The creature emerged ungracefully; wobbling. It hadn't stepped on the loose ground before. An armored creature. With a featureless face, two pairs of ears, and a skeletal body. It was covered in loose, dirty clothes- which I praised silently to not see what horrors were also under there yet. Thick skin covered its face, but small pores and lights shone on either side.\n\nIt spoke perfectly despite its odd jaw. \"Yes?\"\n________________________________\n**First time writing off a prompt and in a really long time, hope I did good enough! All feedback is helpful.**"
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[WP] Your watch has always run 20 minutes late. Somehow this has made you late for the apocalypse and you now have 20 extra minutes.
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"Bear with me, I’m a bored 13 year old with nothing better to do with my summer break.\n\nI’m standing in the middle of a street, watching the world burn around me. The world has descended into chaos in an eerily purge-like fashion, and yet I’m unscathed. There are dead bodies littered around the sidewalks, cars are speeding past me, and bullets fly past my head. It’s almost as if I’ve been rendered immortal in the chaos. \n\nI check my watch. It says 2:23, 20 minutes behind as usual. Suddenly, a ticking inside my head drowns out the sounds of destruction outside. I look at my watch again, and it’s turned into a timer that reads 15:07 in glaring red digits. \n\n15:06. \n\n15:05.\n\t\nI realize what’s going on almost as quickly as this whole catastrophe started. My watch, being 20 minutes behind, has given me 20 minutes of safety in the apocalypse. My first thought is to try to turn the watch back more, extending my invincibility. However, I fear that would either take too long or messing with the watch would break the safety. My only other option is to get the hell out of dodge in my 15 - now 14 - minutes remaining.\n\nI was in the middle of downtown en route to my office when this calamity began. That leaves me stranded at least half an hour away from any form of safety with very little time. \n\nThen, an idea strikes me. Other people’s watches run behind too, right? There have to be other people in the same situation as me. I run to the nearest intersection, and sure enough, there’s a young boy crying in the street, cars swerving around him, bullets flying over his head. I run to him, my timer still ticking.\n\n14:02.\n\n14:01.\n\nI kneel down next to him and attempt to calm him. I’ve never been good with children, let alone a boy who’s in the middle of the apocalypse, probably with no one to turn to.\n\n“What’s your name, boy?”\n“...”\n“I’m George. Buddy, we don’t have much time. We have to get out of here as fast as we can.”\n“My name -sniffle- my name’s Robert. What -sniffle- what’s going on?”\n“The world is dying. You and I are safe. What does your watch say?”\n“What?”\n“Your watch. What does it say?”\nRobert looks at his watch. It reads 31:42. He has more time than I do. If I can’t save myself, I may as well try to save this boy.\n“We have to get out of here. That number there? That’s how much time we have left. You have longer than I do.”\n“But… where can we go? We’re stuck. And… My family. I don’t know where they are.”\n“I don’t know either. But we have to go somewhere.”\nHe wipes his eyes with his shirt and stands up.\n“Are there other people like us?\n“Maybe. Hopefully. We’ll have to keep looking.”\n\n12:38.\n\n12:37.\n\nThen, out of nowhere, a bus appears. There are people, obviously overcome by whatever’s driving this disaster, clawing at the door. The bus continues on, leaving people writhing on the ground behind it. The bus screeches to a halt next to us and people in improvised military gear exit and shove people aside. Robert and I are stunned, no knowing whether these are friends or foes. They recognize us as normal people and yell at us “Come with us if you wanna get out of here!”\n\nRobert looks at me expectantly and I think for a minute. Then I realize that we don’t have a better option and I tell Robert to come with me. The first thing I notice about the people from the bus is that they all have watches glowing red, just like us. We rush onto the bus and the driver, an old man with an exhausted expression and a scar stretching from his ear to his eye, barks at me how much time we have. My watch now reads 11:14 and Robert’s reads 30:12. I rattle off the numbers and we find a seat near the middle. There are maybe 10 other people on the bus, some of which are asleep.\n\n10:59.\n\n10:58.\n\nI sit stone-faced, hoping that we somehow make it out of this city sane, and more importantly, alive.\n"
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[WP] Congratulations, hero! You did it. You cleaned up the city. There's no more crime. People are safe. But... now nobody ever calls on you for help any more...
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"It's been a year since my archnemesis Electrofreak was defeated. He never saw my new rubber fists coming. Since then, I've been out of a job, unemployed. I was a super hero with an identity, it would be pretty foolish if I put that on a resume. In total, I've been a full time crime fighter for five years, how do I explain the gap in my resume to potential employers? \n\nDown to my last dollar, I stopped by the dollar pizza store, only to realize that the price has gone up a quarter; a quarter I didn't have. \n\n\"Look Pete, I've been eating here for a year now, I've been a loyal customer. Can't you do me a favor and just let me have this slice?\" I asked. \"No, can do. I've got a family to feed too. If I let you off a quarter each time for four slices, I would be losing a dollar and so on\" said Pete. What a stingy manager I thought. \"How 'bout this. I see that you're a fan of Elastic Man, I'm pretty good friends with him. I can get you his autograph for a pie. Sounds fair?\" Pete replied with an apathetic no. \n\nI rolled around in my bed later that night, the pangs of hunger forced me to stay awake. This can't keep going on. With no options left, the world has left me no choice, I will become the first villain the world has seen in a year....starting with Pete's dollar pizza.\n\nNewbie writter, feedbacks are appreciated. Thanks",
"Mr. Singh stopped as he did every morning and took in a deep breath while his smiling face basked in the early morning glow of the sun. Today was definitely going to be another beautiful day, he thought running his hand down his recently laundered apron that covered his portly belly. It was a Monday, and he'd just put out the fruit cart outside his little grocery store, hoping to catch the early travelers hurrying to work with his fresh apples and oranges. \n\nMrs. Goldberg from the tailor's next door stepped out to say hello as she always did, but stopped at the sudden rush of wind that whipped down their busy street. They both looked up, as did others, but everyone knew what had caused it. Like clockwork, a streak of red, blue, and black streaked through every street like lightning across a clear, blue sky. \n\nMuttering could be heard among the crowd, and Mr.Singh couldn't keep smiling as pity and disappointment etched their way onto his weathered face. These young people didn't understand, he thought when he finally looked upon the once shining and beloved symbol of this city, no nation, who stopped to hover in the air and smile down at the citizens below. The suit looked bright and blue on the Hero who didn't seem to age with a smile that he knew would never die. \n\nMr.Singh turned to return to his store, unable to stomach what he knew would come next. \"Go home, Hero! Get a Job!\" a lone voice cries out behind him, followed by more, making the old man stop in his tracks. \"We don't need your kind anymore! Stop messing things up!\" He closed his eyes shut, fingers gripping the old, wooden counter beside him for support as memories from his bygone youth flooded in a whirlwind of images. Old Singh was then new to his sprawling metropolis then, a young man wanting nothing more than to carve out his place here, but it was anything but the social and technological utopia surrounding him today. Crime and terror were rampant with crazed meta-humans and villainy running amok, and world ending disasters making weekly appearances until He arrived. There was no fanfare or flashy entrance of any kind when the Hero arrived, as he appeared out of a thunderstorm, and planted himself as the lone shield of this city. It took decades, but everyday The Hero fought relentlessly for the people of this city and nation, not only against villains, but with whatever request he could manage, without question or complaint.\n\nThe number of incidents steadied over time, until they eventually stopped, the criminals all assumed to be dead, old, or simply moved on to greener pastures. Decades had passed since then, and these young people didn't understand, and Mr.Singh couldn't blame them for not knowing what this city and its Hero went through to build the utopia they all enjoyed today.\n\nBy now, the Hero would try to engage the crowd with friendly banter until the crowd shunned him away, but only deafening silence followed the citizens' ridicule today. The hair on the old man's arm and neck rose, and he stepped out again to see their savior no longer smiling, looking pained and hurt instead with glowing red eyes. \n\nFor the first time, a clear voice rang throughout the city that was neither loud nor quiet, not friendly nor aggressive. It was the kind that stirred something within you, and made you listen. \"Almost a century has passed and I have served the people of this land. I came whenever I was called from wherever I called home, without question or concern, and I loved every minute of it. No one ever asked who I was, what I was, or how I felt, but I did not care as long as I could bask in the smiles and joy of the people. I try for you all, but am now cast aside like your trash. I was the first, and now the last. Know this, there will come a day when I am needed again, and you will find yourselves calling to the skies and praying as you once did, but I will whisper, 'No'\" Lightning struck through across the clear blue skies, and the savior vanished. That was the last day Mr.Singh remembered smiling, and the hair on his arm stood as erect as ever, sending a shiver down his spine for what was to come.\n\n(Not sure if anyone remembers my last attempt at responding to a post here, but I'm back! I wanted to try a different tone and writing style from before, but I understand if it isn't that great or even a little boring. As usual, I look forward to everyone's comments and criticisms. Thank you for reading!)",
"George couldn't stand the way people looked at him as he worked the counter at the local Dairy Queen. When he first started, crowds would gather around the front of the store, gawking at him like a fish at an aquarium. Even now, a month after he'd begun working there, they still came.\n\nAt first, there'd been an air of respectful admiration. After all, George had single-handedly eliminated crime in Hero City! As for his apron and cap, well, even heroes fell on hard times. But as the weeks went by, and the monotonous grind reduced him to just another customer service drone, the admiration turned into contempt.\n\nHa! The kids whispered behind his back. Not so super now, is he?\n\nSee him? The parents said. That's what happens when you drop out of school to be a superhero.\n\nIt didn't help that he passed by his old house every day. It was a grand Victorian affair, with sweeping gables and twisted towers. A home fit for a hero. The bank repossessed it after his salary from the city dried out. Now he lived in a cramped single-bedroom apartment.\n\nTwo months in, he couldn't stand it anymore. So he went, hat in hand, to meet with the mayor.\n\n\"Look, Madam Mayor,\" George said, \"I just want to renegotiate our contract. You know me working at a fast food restaurant isn't good for the city's image.\"\n\nThe mayor sighed, looking at him from across the desk. \"George,\" she said, \"you were the one who demanded the commission-based pay in the first place. I can't change the contract now, it would be political suicide. You've made too many enemies.\"\n\nGeorge frowned, \"Who? The crime bosses? They're all in prison.\"\n\n\"No,\" the mayor shook her head sadly, \"the police union. All the former cops. They're still angry that you put them out of a job. After all, isn't that the reason you couldn't get a job in construction?\"\n\nGeorge stared at her incredulously, \"I thought that was because I didn't have a high school diploma.\"\n\nThe mayor smiled grimly, \"After the city torched the police department's funding, all the police went to work in construction. They still hate your guts.\"\n\nGeorge slunk home in a haze of anger and betrayal. He'd given so much for the city, and this was how the city treated him? Well, he'd teach them what he was worth.\n\nHe quit his job at the Dairy Queen the next day. Two weeks later, the newspaper headlines announced the largest prison escape in the history of Hero City. Crime rates soared. When the Mayor called him in a panic, George had already bought his house back from the bank. He did end up going back to work, but the people of the city couldn't help but notice that he wasn't quite as good as he was before. His neighbours often remarked on the shady nature of his frequent house guests.\n\nWhatever the case may be, one thing was for sure. George would never put himself out of a job ever again."
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[WP] Your parents think you should just be more content to eat brains. You though, your a zombie that wants more out of his afterlife.
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"\"Brains!\" My father said angrily as he confronted me in the kitchen. I sighed and shook my head. \"Not Brains!\". He reared back, shocked. \n\"Not...brains? Brains!\" He shook some at me. I was letting him down, but I wanted so much more. Something...else. \n\"Not Brains. Vegetables!\" Dad looked like he'd been slapped. Heck, some colour almost returned to his pallid skin. \n\"Vege...tables?\" He whispered, before rising to a roar. \"Vege-tables?!? *Not* Vege-tables! Brains!\" \n\"Brains!\" My mother had joined him, nodding as close to vigorous as she could without re-dislocating her neck. \n\"Not brains! Vegetables!\" I was not going to give up. \n\"Brains.\" Mum said sadly. Dad looked like he would've continued the rant, but she pulled him to one side and they whispered. \n\"*Brains!...* *brains, brains, vegetables...brains BRAINS vegetables...*\" I knew this would be bad, but it had to be done. There was so much more out there than just brains. \n \n\"Vege-tables... brain vege-tables...\" I watched as Dad twitched, before smiling. Was he coming round to the idea? He turned and held up one finger, asking me to wait, before shuffling to the pantry door. \n\"*Oh God, please! Help! Help me!*\" He dragged some food in from the storeroom, still bound and kicking, and waved me over. \n\"Brains...\" he began. \n\"Not brains!\" I shook my head, irritated. It was simple enough. He nodded. \n\"Not brains!\" He grabbed a rolling pin from the counter. \n\"*What... what are you doing... aieee*!\" The food screamed as, with a sickening thud, he slammed the wooden stick onto her skull. A few more hard knocks and the food stopped screaming and slumped on the floor, twitching gently. \nHe turned to me, proud. \n\"Not brains! Vege-table!\" I stared at the twitching, brain-dead food and sighed. I turned to him and nodded. \"Vegetable!\" His grin nearly split his cheeks ear-to-ear and he shuffled off with Mum, who gave me a worried smile. \nI turned to the food and groaned quietly. It wasn't what I meant at all, but at least he had tried. It was better than what had happened with Sarah when her folks had caught her tearing apart a head of lettuce. \nI leaned down and started eating. What? I might want to try new things, but food is still delicious food. Even if it is mashed."
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[WP] One of the best 'brokers' in the world can get anyone literally anything, for the right price. He called you up today, begging you for your help in fulfilling his latest 'order'...
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" \"Hello... is this 'Raggamuffin'?\"\n\n \"Who's asking?\"\n\n \"You know damn well who this is, it's 'The Hawk' and I am in need of your services again.\"\n\n **sigh** \"What is it this time?\"\n\n \"Well... My 'client' is in need of an item that I really only see you being able to obtain...\"\n\n \"Okay, What is it?\"\n\n \"They need you... They need you to obtain the 'Emerald Chalice'...\"\n\n \"HAHAHAHAHAHA! YOU'RE JOKING, RIGHT!?\"\n\n \"I wouldn't have come to you if I was joking... They need it and are willing to pay a HEFTY fee to obtain it.\"\n\n\"You're fucking out of your mind! There's no amount of money in this world that could get me to chase that thing down. It's a suicide mission!\"\n\n\"... That's sad to hear, your cut would have been north of 100 billion credits...\"\n\n \"... Holy shit balls that's a lot of coin! Okay, I'm listening...\"\n\n \"Now that I have your attention... My 'Client' is needing the chalice as soon as possible.\"\n\n \"Which order of the 'Triad' is it this time?\"\n\n \"They'd rather remain anonymous, but they explicitly requested my best man for the job... Which is why I came to you.\"\n\n \"I bet it's the Arminian's again, they just can't let it go.\"\n\n \"I am sworn to secrecy, but ever since the Brumithian's wound up with the chalice, this 'client' has been planning what they would do with it once they get it back.\"\n\n \"Yeah... It's definitely the Arminian's. Well I don't care for story time, so I'll be on my way now. Tell your 'client' I accept their request, over and out.\"\n",
"\"Absolutely not.\" I said, firmly, into my phone. \n\n\"Come *on.*\" The Broker's voice pleaded with me. \"I am desperate here. I've only got another 2 hours to fill this order, and I'm running out of options. Under the circumstances, I think $10,000 is *more* than fair for what I'm asking, here! Look, remember when you needed something? Who did you call? You called *The Broker,* Jeff. And I delivered!\"\n\n\"Yeah, for *$7500* you delivered. You weren't giving out charity...\"\n\n\"That was a fair price for those tickets, especially on less than an hour's notice!\" he snapped. \"And now I'm offering you *ten grand* for something that is literally worth *nothing!\"*\n\n\"Uh, I beg your pardon!\" I said, outraged. \"My *penis* is actually worth quite a *lot,* to me!\"\n\n\"Oh come off it. I'm not asking for your *dong,* Jeff! Just the foreskin, that's all.\" \n\n\"You still haven't explained *why* you need it!\" I practically yelled into the phone. \n\n\"Hey, part of what I sell is confidentiality. You think I told the guy who had those tickets what *you* wanted them for? Hell no.\" The Broker said, sounding offended.\n\n\"Having handled those tickets personally, I'm fairly certain no one had to *saw them off the end of their penis* to give them to you, Broker.\" I retorted.\n\n\"Now you're being dramatic again, there's no *saws.* I got five doctors and half a dozen off-duty mohels working as subcontractors. Anesthetic, sterile instruments, the whole nine. I can have one at your door in ten minutes, and the whole thing done in another fifteen, just like that, ba-da-bing-ba-da-snip.\"\n\n\"I'm glad your genital mutilation service is so *efficient.\"*\n\n\"You're looking at this the wrong way, Jeff. It's a gain, not a loss! Look, I even found this study here that says a majority of women *prefer* a man whose captain doesn't wear a hat indoors.\" The Broker wheedled. \"Think of it as a gift for your wife. Only instead of shelling out money on some expensive trinket to please her, you're *getting* ten grand! I mean, she shaves her legs for you, right?\"\n\n\"And I shave my face for her.\" I replied. \"In both cases, the hair *grows back*. Wait, who the hell was out asking women about that? What women?\"\n\n\"Er...\" I heard the Broker shuffling some papers over the phone. He actually had the study in front of him, apparently. \n\n\"Well...it says here they were prostitutes, I guess. But that doesn't make their opinions invalid, Jeff. Look, be a pal!\"\n\n\"I am a pal, Broker. I consider us pals, good pals even -- being my pal, however, doesn't entitle you to *any* fraction of my penis*.\"*\n\n\"Look, if I tell you why I need it, will you sell it to me?\"\n\n\"No!\" I snapped, then hesitated. What if this was some kind of, I don't know, tissue regeneration research thing? I'd heard they were using all kinds of novel sources of human tissue to get stem cells nowadays. Then again, I'd also heard circumcision was becoming controversial, because they'd discovered how many thousands of nerve endings a man loses when its removed. Even so, if it could save lives or help treat a terrible disease...and Emma would understand, wouldn't she? \"Well...maybe. No promises. Let's hear it.\"\n\nThe Broker sighed, and then began, hopefully. \"Alright, here it is. My client wants to marry a Jewish girl--\"\n\n\"So?\" I said. \"Let *him* get circumcised, then.\"\n\n\"Let me finish!\" he replied, annoyed. \"He's Jewish too, so naturally he's good to go on that front. But his girl, she's like *really* Jewish, you know? She says she loves him, but she won't marry him if her Dad doesn't give his blessing. Thing is, her pop's a Rabbi, very old school, and he ain't impressed by his daughter's more liberal suitor. So my client gets very bold, and says 'Sir, I'd do anything to marry your daughter.' So Dad decides to drop some science on him, Old Testament Style. He sets him a task from the Torah, the one that King Saul set David before he'd let him marry *his* daughter.\"\n\n\"Which was...?\" I asked, curiously.\n\n\"Uh...well...David had to bring him 300 foreskins.\" The Broker said.\n\n\"...you're shitting me, right?\"\n\n\"Not even a little. They were like battle trophies to the Israelites, I guess.\" he continued. \"But see, this girl's dad didn't say he had to kill anybody in battle -- just that he had to present him with *300 foreskins* and then he'd agree to let him marry his daughter. The good Rabbi is well known as a man of his word, so he won't back out even if he thinks he's been had. So, of course, my client calls the Broker, and he tells me what he needs. And I'm having a hell of time finishing the order, I gotta tell you -- at this point I'd even throw in *my own* contribution, were I not already bereft of that resource since shortly after my birth.\"\n\nI was stunned...I didn't know what to say to this. I had to know, though. \n\n\"So, how many...?\"\n\n\"As of right now, after sourcing the 'product' from every maternity hospital and religious institution I could manage...well, I'm sitting at 299, my friend. Hence my call to you. So, whaddya think?\" \n\n\"Good luck.\" I said, and hung up."
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[WP] Historians have mistranslated a lot of ancient texts. The word we thought meant weapon was actually instrument, and the word army? Well, that means band. Historians are now trying to put together what happened at all of the ancient “battle of the bands”.
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"Excerpt from the United States Historians Association's June Publication:\n\n**Abstract**: \n\nA retranslation of certain pictographs has shown that a small, yet significant number of Ancient Mesopotamian, Egyptian, and Asian Texts have been mistranslated. We have conclusively found that these specific translations used minute adjustments to make the words 'band' and 'instrument' look like 'army' and 'weapon.' We believe this is the first recorded pun or wordplay in written history. After studying and retranslating these specific recorded battles, we have found that these 'wars' were in fact ritualistic competitions between different religious cults to determine ones superiority. Often times, the instruments were tied directly with their gods and whoever made the best music would be deemed to have worshiped the superior god. In this paper, we demonstrate our linguistic analysis and provide side-by-side comparisons to prove our conclusions. "
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[WP] Alcohol gives you power to perform magic. The drunker you are, the more powerfull your magic becomes.
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"Lying in a pool of his vomit, he woke up. His head was pounding and the world was spinning as he raised himself up, leaning on the wall for support. The room was a mess, he didn't even recognize where he is. He muttered, \"Another blackout, things must've gotten out of hand last night.\" He staggered his way into the kitchen looking for any clues as to what must've happened last night. His phone was lying on the countertop, an anonymous text message read, \"1 pm, sanctuary cafe\".\n\nThe sanctuary cafe is not a particularly charming or enticing place. It had beige walls, simple chairs and mediocre service. In fact, many people walk by it without even noticing. This made it the perfect spot for the world's greatest wizard to cure his hangover. Nursing a bottle of gatorade in his hand with sunglasses over his eyes, Elirio sat inconspicuously at a table in the sanctuary with a half eaten sandwich lying neglected in front of him waiting for someone to show up. He checked his watch, 1:05, he thought, \"Who am I meeting? How have I gotten myself into this mess?\"\n\nM had been missing for weeks, and she was Elirio's brains when the alcohol began to overwhelm him. She called the shots when his mind was no longer functional. Some people in this world have a gift, but it's a double edged sword. They are gifted with the ability to perform magic. The catch is that they need alcohol to do it. Many alchemists spent centuries trying to create an alternative that did not have the same... side effects; however, their efforts proved to be in vain. Elirio's solution was to keep M, she could call the shots and he trusted her more than anything.\n\nMany famous Wizards have lived and their deeds span millennia. Ulrich the Tankard Swigger stopped a hurricane from devouring an entire island. Valeri the Firedrinker destroyed an entire army bent on purging a race of peoples. There were bad wizards too. Myenis the Dazed controlled an entire country and bent it to his will. In fact, a large trend of wizards with nefarious ends had left the world more in fear of wizards than anything else. The wizardry practice was banned across nations on the surface. But many modern governments saw the potential of wizards to fight for their causes, as long as they were kept under control. \n\nElirio was the Panetheron Alliance's most famed wizard, among the wizarding circle of course. In fact, it is alleged that he is the best wizard the world has ever seen. His control of magic even at his very drunkest state makes him a more than formidable opponent, capable of performing magic that the world had not seen in thousands of years. That is, until the Alliance began waging its war across the world. Being the most powerful collection of nations, it was inevitable that the Alliance would take a turn for the more militaristic. Elirio told the alliance that he would not murder innocents. But M disappeared at this crucial moment and the alliance gave him an ultimatum, kill or M dies. What they didn't realize is that if he murdered for them, M would never forgive him. She would rather die than see Elirio corrupt himself this way so Elirio escaped and now he had one singular mission.\n\nElirio was situated in the cafe so that his back was towards the corner where two walls meet. His eyes saw both possible entrances. He was a wanted man, he was hungover and he was not in the mood to die today. His bag of alcohol was next to his chair, but if shit hit the fan he knew it would take 20 minutes for the alcohol to truly hit his blood stream and only then could the magic flow. He was in a sticky situation, but only his friends had his number so he guessed he was safe.\n\nA figure walked in through the door wearing a grey suit. Elirio looked at his hand, gold ring with a white stone in it. All he could see on the stone were two letters: P.A. Not a good sign. Grabbing a bottle, Elirio smashed it into the man before he could cast and much to the dismay of his body he grabbed a second bottle and downed the remnants of it. Twenty minutes.\n\nThe ringed wizard took the glass directly to the back of the head and collapsed. The bartender looked at Elirio, \"Everything good boss?\"\n\n\"Yeah Jusef, everything is fine just don't tell anyone I was hear.\" Dropping a hefty sum of money on the table Elirio dragged the body through the back door and into the alley. Jusef and Elirio have always had a mutualistic relationship, Jusef keeps his mouth shut and Elirio compensates him, well. \n\nElirio could feel the power begin to course through his veins, feeling it in his mind he ripped open a portal back to his hideout and he dragged this man through it. He was gonna find M, and he was gonna bring her back. This was all he knew. \n\nAs he walked through the portal, he heard a voice. A woman said, \"Hello Elirio.\" He dove out of the way just as the fireball was about to hit his face.",
"\"We need you.\" My two best friends stared at me with wide, expecting eyes. \n\"Guys, seriously, I don't do that anymore.\" I tried to get them to understand. I knew it was important to them, but I hated feeling like that, just so, out of control. \n\"Please! They don't believe us. They think you're crazy. But I mean if you're okay with that, I'm okay with that.\" TJ gave me a look that clued me in; he would not be okay with that, not even a little bit. I sighed and looked at him, then back at Margie with her cute retro curls and shiny nose piercings. \n\"Fine,\" I exhaled. \"Just one party.\"\n\nWe drove over in TJ's white impala that he was so very proud of. He swore it got him laid, but I suspected he spent more money on lotion than condoms. We hopped out and walked up to the front door, already feeling the music from inside. As usual I had a bad feeling about things, but I went ahead and ignored it. I'm not going to get that drunk, I told myself, just enough to show off a bit and make Margie and TJ happy. Who knows, I might even make some friends. \n\nInside the big yellow house was a mess of college students. Most of them were dancing on or with one another, with the few vomiting stragglers or couples making out. I lost TJ as I zig zagged my way into the kitchen with Margie. \n\nWe got stopped by a short chubby dude without a shirt on who screamed I CAN'T FIND MY SOCCER BALLS over and over. Margie grabbed my hand and pulled me to the side, just in time for someone else to grab my shirt and pull me almost off my feet. I yelled as two guys grabbed my legs and I vaguely heard TJ yell KEG STAND. \n\nAfter that I only remember snippets. I remember a lot of blue whisps, and things flying around my head. I remember walking on the ceiling and either vomiting fire or fireball whiskey into a litter box. This morning I woke up in a bed full of my own clones and that is the last time I will ever drink. Unless they need me. ",
"A dull ache half way drug me to consciousness. *Five more minutes.*\n\nA shrill repeating chirping, each electronic whine accentuated by stabbing pain, again pulls me to the waking world. *GotdammuffiginsumbishFUK. I don't wanna be here.*\n\nThe noise is gone. I fade back into the comfortable folds of sleep.\n\n*It's cold.* I force my heavy eyes open. *I can't see anything...* My pointer fingers dig at my crusted over eyes. The satisfying crackling of morning crud sloughing off brings warmth my *damn aching head.*\n\n*I must have had a few too many. I'm probably waking up in some alley somewhere.* It's still dark. My limbs send waves of tingling aches to my dulled brain as I force myself to my feet. After another fierce eye-rubbing session and I can finally make out a point of light some ways away. I let out a sigh as I start shuffling towards the end of the alley, and retch as my rancid breath hits my nostrils. \n\n*Why do I do this to myself?* Clutching my sides I release the limited contents of my stomach onto the pavement, then shakily wipe my fetid mouth on my sleeve. It feels... slimy. *Oh, right, I wore a t-shirt.* As I wipe the vomitus remains on my pants, I continue to wander towards the end of the very oddly shaped alleyway. *The entry is so low, and so round.* Squinting against the growing light, and turning my head to one side I move forward. *It's so green. Why is it so green? I'm not still dreaming. Vomiting wouldn't be so bad in a dream. This is real.* My eyes adjust to the light and I can make out a forest. *My city doesn't have a... No. Aww shit.* This had happened before. I must have flown a car into the nearby forest. Checking my watch I find a live squid wrapped around my wrist.\n\n\"What are the chances you know the time?\" I ask the aquatic beastie.\n\nMorgan Freeman's deep narrative voice echos back \"It's eight twenty-five in the morning.\" as the squid wiggles in time with the voice. *It was probably fuckin' hilarious last night*. Giving my eyes a final rub as they finally adjust completely to the light, I look around for any sign of my mode of transportation. \n\n\"Accio car,\" I call out, dramatically flicking my finger around. Nothing. *Eh, I'm not drunk anymore. It was worth a shot though.* I sit down on a nice rock, pinching my nose between a pointer and thumb. I let the sounds of birds and other dumb wilderness crap wash over me as I let the ache in my head run its course. *No way I make it to work on time. Eh, I'll bring in a box of doughnuts and no one will give a shit.* Rising to my feet I start making my way through the woods, hoping to find some sign of where I should head next. \n\n\"¡Detener! ¿Quien va alla?\" *The fuck?* I turn to find myself staring down a very upset looking man with a nasty mustache, and... *heavy plate armour?* I laugh and a spike of pain shudders through my head.\n\n\"Hey there buddy, I'm trying to find my way to...\"\n\n\"Usted es un inglés? ¡No te muevas\" He shakes a sword at me as he speaks. \n\n\"Whoah! Whoah! No hablo espaniol man! Chill, no need for the sword. What kind of crappy cosplay event is this? Not dissin' or anything.\"\n\n\"Que? Ven conmigo, pareces perdido.\" He sheaths his weapon and we stare at each other for a moment. \"You... You with me.\" He says slowly and shakily, pointing towards an arbitrary direction. He still seems wary, but I'm sure my puke stained body, and lack of weapons make it pretty clear I'm not participating in whatever silly event they're doing.\n\n\"Yeah, that way? Thanks man.\" I start walking in the direction he indicated, and I hear him fall in behind me. After a very short, and very quiet, walk I enter an area that's been cleared out to make room for the camp site for whatever civil war, or cosplay event is going on. The smell reminds me just how nasty the kind of people who come to these things are. *Yeah, pretty sure that guy over there just pooped in a bucket. He's done a good job on his make-up and costume though. Those bandages look like they're actually blood soaked.*\n\n\"¿Qué tenemos exactamente aquí?\" Another short, smelly, mustachioed guy yelled, pulling me back to myself.\n\n\"Not so loud, I've got a killer hangover.\" I retorted, smirking at the red sash draped over the man's polished chest plate, \"How long did that get-up take you to make?\"\n\nThe man's brow furrowed deeply, and he turned his head a bit, \"The way thee speaketh, i knoweth not wh're t cometh from.\" \n\n*Cute, these guys really go all out.* With a deep breath I continue \"I cometh from the great city of St. Louis, in the state of Missouri.\" I said, dripping sarcasm and flourishing a hand.\n________________________________\n\nI'm on a tight schedule and need to call it a night. If anyone wants to know where this goes, just leave a comment and I'll pick it up again when I have time (I'll be checking back within 20 hours, and would pick it back up within 36). \n"
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[WP] All your life, you thought you were the hero of the story. Today you found out you're actually the villain.
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"And now, I am the villain. Demanding fealty. Demanding to avoid feeling the pain of my unshared fears.\nOther times I am the hero. Leading the lost. Bringing home the dinner to be cooked.\n\nAnd it is a story.\nWe require a story, many stories, trying to make sense of this life.\nWithout a hideous evil, the good cannot identify itself in the story.\nWithout this hideous evil villain, the good may get confused and not be sure it is the hero.\n\nAnd it is a story. Fiction with facts embedded like gems on cloth. This facet shines. Then that facet shines. The light moves, the cloth wrinkles, and the story changes.\n\nQuestioning the storytelling is met with derision. “Who are you to question the way we have proven ourselves to be the good and righteous hero? The villain has nothing of value to add here.”\n\nThe hero does not question the story. Why question when you are on top?\n\nWhy question when you are the hero of the story?\n\nThe story changes in each moment. Heroes become villains of the story in a flash of the light.\n\nWho notices the light and the story? Who wakes up to allow them but not accept them?\n\n"
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[WP] You hear background music based on your current situation. But they're not just any background music, it's royalty-free Kevin MacLeod music.
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"For days on end, there was always music appropriate for the situation I was in. \n \n\nBut it wasn't just any music, it was.... royalty-free music by Kevin MacLeod? \n\nOut of all the background music I could potentially have in my life, I got royalty-free songs. In my opinion, I would have preferred something else beside royalty-free music playing in the background. \n\nI wonder why I get these songs, is it perhaps that copyright laws extend to the boundaries of a possible forth wall, or are there gods that believe that for a mundane person like me, should only get royalty-free music while others, who are likely more interesting than me, get background music from a variety of artists or even get their own personal soundtrack, just for them. \n\nBut those questions aside, at least I have a way to know what kind of situation I'm going to be in and something tells me that the music playing right now is indicating I'm going to be in a lot of danger soon... \n \n "
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[WP]: No matter what you did in life, you end into a tailor-made hell. You were a bad psychologist. You end up being a voice in the head of a deeply dysfunctioning individual, and your only hope of getting out is to fix them.
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"Note log: June 18th 2018\n\nPatient #5432789 \n\nName: John Doe\n\nThis will be my first time meeting this patient. His file states he is psychotic, narcissistic, bipolar, maybe schizophrenia or multiple personality disorder, and on and on. The list of potential diagnosis is almost as long as his rap sheet. There is an extra cautionary note on his file “patient has killed 4 psychologists and a dozen prison guards. Extreme caution is to be taken around this patient.” finally there is a handwritten note on the outside of the file from my supervisor. “Sorry JD will be your last patient before you retire. Be extra careful, his last doctor went insane and killed a bunch of people. ~James G.” \n\nPatient has extensive scarring on his face. This was not noted in his file. Perhaps the cause of the scars where the catalyst for his psychosis.\n\nStarting taped interview:\n\nTranscript of first interview:\n\nG: “Hello John. You can call me Gerald.”\n\nJD: “Gerald… hehe isn't he a meme? Hehe\"\n\nG: “I believe so, but I'm not the same Gerald from the internet. Do you spend a lot of time online?”\n\nJD: “hehe I used to, until the damn commissioner found out I was talking kids into having fun hehe and one shot up his school…. Hehehe hahahaha” (transcriber notes that the laugh is, disturbing)\n\nG: “Why did you do that?”\n\nJD: “Why did you do that?” (voice mimics the doctors)\n\nG: “Hmm are you avoiding the question because it's a difficult one?”\n\nJD: “Nope, just Socrates asking a question? Hehe”\n\nG: “what do you mean by that? Is Socrates talking to you?”\n\nJD: “hehe, not Socrates exactly, that's just what I call the smart ass.”\n\nG: “the smart ass?”\n\nJD “yeah the guy I killed a few years ago. Some philosophy student or some shit. I don't know. He keeps telling me smart shit.”\n\nG: “the guy you killed talks to you?”\n\nJD: “yeah they all speak in here.” (There is a thumping noise, presumably JD tapping his head) \n\nG: “that's very interesting, can you explain more?”\n\nJD “I'll just show you”\n\n(Chain sounds, rustling of clothing and papers, then Gerald screams) \n\nDescription of scene after guards intervention:\n\nJohn Doe was taken back to his cell laughing. Doctor Gerald Wilson was found dead with his own pen jammed into his right ear.\n\n--------------------\n\n“Where… what… is going… am I’\n\n“Hahahhahaahahahhahahahhahahahaha”\n\n“Is that you John?”\n\n“I told you I would show you.”\n\nGerald feels someone tap him on the shoulder. He turns around to see a short, rotund, man with a mustache. He is very well dressed. \n\n“Hello, you must be new here. I'm Henry Claridge. One of the first ones here. I'm sort of the mayor, well in name. I really don't have any authority….” He holds a hand out to Gerald. “Well, I used to have some control over him, he used to listen a little to me. Before there were so many voices mine got drowned out.”\n\nGerald takes in his surroundings. It's pitch black and he is standing on, nothing. The only thing he sees is Henry. Gerald extends a hand and shakes Henry's hand. \n\n“Am I dead? Is this hell?”\n\n“Well sort of. We call it hell, but it seems that when you die by the hands of John Doe you end up here. In his head. This is kinda an entry area… the rest of his head is well…. Very overwhelming. We’ll get there eventually, you can meet the other ten thousand plus people in here.”\n\n“ten... thousand?”\n\n“Yeah, the Joker has a high body count.”\n\nEdit: might continue this idea. "
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[WP] Come take a vacation from life. You'll come back so refreshed your friends and family will swear you're a whole new person.
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"I took up interest in the colourful flyer on the cork-board outside the alcoholics anonymous room, it has little tear-off strips of paper with information as though someone was selling an old piano, or hoping someone has seen their lost dog. \"Come take a vacation from life! You'll come back so refreshed your friends and family will swear you're a whole new person!\" Seems like some overly-flowery talk for a vacation company, but between the constant bickering from my roommates, my girlfriend leaving me for some other guy because \"oh he has his life together\", my life has become a waste. My degree is worthless in this day and age, the job market is becoming too over-saturated with engineers, and cities aren't putting out enough big grants for an artistic architect like myself to actually get a good paycheck. I suppose I could use a vacation...\n\nI wake up just as I come along to Norwich Station, across from Riverside Rd, the stub of paper I took says to call a number when I get outside and a car will pull along to pick me up. Only thing I get nervous about is the payment for all this; there's no details of payment on the stub, I'm just hoping this isn't some huge scam. The bland colours of the train car don't seem to dissipate as I exit, the station having a bland feel, looking like any old train station in Britain, and as I come out of the station suitcase dragging along behind my left, and my phone ready to call in my right, I feel a cold wind brush past my cheek. A chill runs with it, but I've come too far now to turn back, everyone thinks I'm going away to get my life together and if I just go back I'll be seen as a failure. I call the number without a second thought.\n\nThe phone rings, someone picks up but says nothing for nearly ten seconds, I suppose I'll make the first move.\n\n\"Hello?\" I feel like I'm making a mistake.\n\n\"Vacation? Norwich? Ready?\" Three simple words, the voice speaking back to me is grainy and harsh, yet it somehow gives comfort.\n\n\"Uhh, yeah, I'm ready.\"\n\nThe phone hangs up, and with the beeping comes a screech of tires from around the corner, there's nobody around me, the town feels deserted in a sudden moment. A black van stops in front of me and three bald men can be seen, one opens the door, the second is driving, and the third smiles patting a seat next to him. As strange as it is, I was thinking this could be some sort of boot camp and this kind of gives a resemblance towards it. I hop in, and as we leave I feel at peace, the people surrounding me, though somewhat intimidating, are very nice and pleasant to talk to. As we approach a concrete building on the other side of the town, they tell me to head in for registration and to find a nice comfy chair.\n\nThe reception area is bright and colourful, a fountain in the middle with koi fish swimming about, one even jumps out of the water almost waving at me! She takes my name and information with hardly a word, just being able to look at me and know me like we'd known each other for years. Payment wasn't required they said, and as I took my seat, they told me to inhale deeply, following a private instructor in relaxation techniques, and each breath filled new life into me. The walls ran with colour, so many to see I bet nobody had ever seen this shade of orange before, I'm like an explorer on the verge of greatness seeing the world through such different eyes than those around me, my problems don't exist, I am free.\n\nSuddenly. It. Stopped.\n\nI look around and all I can see is grey. The chair I was in, sickly rotting away in an empty warehouse with people who look at peace but are restless. A few people wander around giving small bits of a sandy substance to people who happily accept it and snort it. Payment wasn't required for my first dose, like any good addiction artist, they gave me one try, and I can't go back. I cannot stand my life anymore I want it to all go away. So I sat, for days just taking this drug hoping I would feel better, but each time it just didn't feel as good as the last. I left eventually, five days after I arrived, and all I had left to look forward to was the grey sky, the grey bed in my grey room, with nothing left to console me. Alcohol did nothing, I gave up on my four month sobriety to try and feel better, and I lost everything. My life is over. I just hope my last letter can warn someone, do NOT take a vacation from some flyer which promises to change your life.\n\n----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------\n\nThe letter was heart breaking, I felt grief for the man I would never know, and yet I can't help but be captivated by this flyer here on a cork-board. Why should I let the ravings of some lunatic druggy stop me from taking a life changing vacation? I've always been adventurous, might as well see where it'll take me."
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[WP] mermaid rescue squads are trained and equipped to save as many people as possible from shipwrecks
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"Pete gazed at the ripples in the water, impatiently smoking as he stood in the Lifeguard's boat, his eyes scanning for the slightest movement below the surface. A tense cough sounded from behind him, and Pete turned towards it. \"You want to maybe not smoke that shit here? We have fucking oxygen tanks literally two feet from you.\" The young captain, Hartshorne, glared at Pete, this grizzled old man who looked as if he was born at sea. Pete narrowed his eyes in contempt, and then softened. \"Your boat, your rules,\" Pete said, and flicked the cigarette off into the water. He sighed. \"It's been too fucking long, I tell you. They should have found *something* by now.\"\n\n\"So call them back.\" Hartshorne replied simply, purposely avoiding the frustrated man's gaze. \n\n\"I can't just *call them back,*\" Pete said through gritted teeth. \"They don't work like that.\" \n\n\"You call yourself a trainer, Pete? Can't even get a team of women-fish to do your bidding?\" Hartshorn laughed. \"Don't have much luck with ladies, do you?\"\n\nPete flew into a rage, \"First off, emphasize the *fish* part of your statement. Imagine a creature with the stubbornness and emotional range of a human, with the utter stupidity and simplistic mind of a fish. A shark with PMS. Now imagine trying to *train* these fucking things. So no, they don't just *do my bidding.* They work when there's incentive and they don't when there's not.\" Pete sighed loudly and scanned the horizon again, watching as the last vestige of a 400-foot cruise ship, *The Astoria Gem*, slowly sank into its watery home. \"And we thought mermaid teams were an *upgrade* from dolphins. Fuck, I'd *pay* to be a dolphin trainer right now.\"\n\n\"Pussy.\" Hartshorne muttered, and Pete once again glared at the young captain. \"Have you ever seen one up close, Captain? A mermaid?\" Pete laughed as he approached Hartshorne, who was slowly driving closer to a line of small lifeguard boats like his own, all waiting to receive survivors that surfaced. The small cruise ship had only 300 passengers aboard, as it was the off-season, but those were still huge numbers to handle in a short amount of time. More boats were arriving as *The Astoria Gem*'s distress call coursed over the radio. \n\n\"Can't say that I have, Pete. I imagine they're not much scarier than regular humans, are they?\" \n\nThe old man laughed. \"Oh buddy. Just you wait. They're large. Five hundred pounds, covered in blubber for insulation, dark eyes like sharks that take in every detail like a predator should. Vicious rows of sharp teeth that will slice you to the bone. You ever fish Pike? Teeth like that. And like I said, not fucking bright. They're a terrible creature to work with.\"\n\n\"So why use them, then? If they're so terribly bad?\"\n\n\"They're hungry, and they work in numbers. We teach them that they get food when they bring people back to us, and when they observe their family doing the same, it offers even more reward. They're natural herd animals. Schools, I guess you'd say. The strength is in their numbers. Train one to retrieve a drowning man, and the rest follow suit. Their strength that we rely on is simply their numbers. Imagine if a school of 400 tuna could be trained to save a sinking cruise ship. Same concept. We just use these because they're bigger. But they're a lot meaner than tuna, so God help us if-\" Pete trailed off and swallowed hard, his eyes fixed on the water before them. Hartshorn followed his gaze silently, then gasped. \n\nThe surface of the ocean seemed to bubble and fizz, suddenly breaking with hundreds of tails, fins, scales visible. Each mermaid was dragging 1-2 humans up for air. Some were screaming, some were silent, and quite a few looked badly wounded. As this wave of mermaids approached the boats, the sounds of shrieking whistles pierced the air. Pete raised his own training whistle to his lips, noting that one of his lead mermaids, Ava, was already nearing the boat. Her auburn hair framed her face like a shaggy mane, her muscled and scaly arms flexed as she hauled an obese man over the side of Hartshorn's boat. The man gasped and sputtered, and Hartshorn quickly grabbed an oxygen mask and tank to help him. Pete, on the other hand, was eyeing the scaly mermaid who sat on the edge of the boat, her eyes darting from Pete to Hartshorn. He knew the look on her face far too well. It was the gaze of a predator. \n\nPete reached for the chunk of beef in the bucket near his feet, the reward for Ava. He was far too slow, though. She quickly bit into Hartshorn's leg with her vicious, spiny teeth, and dragged him off the boat. The young captain kicked and screamed as he sunk below the surface, but it was to no avail. He would not be coming back up. \n\nPete sighed, mentally berating himself for getting attached to Hartshorn. *They're real great at fetch, but not too great at ignoring instincts.* He glanced at the other ships and saw similar atrocities occurring.. While it seemed the majority of the 300 shipwreck victims had been recovered, it was far from a perfect system. Trainers were screaming as they were mauled, some mermaids were holding so tightly to smaller passengers that they'd crush them in the water, while others were enthusiastically tossing victims at windows, cabins, ropes while accepting their meat rewards. One dark blue mermaid was dragging a half of a man through the water, lifting the man up with one hand while begging for fish with the other. His entrails were creating a feeding frenzy for those mermaids who had returned empty-handed. The ocean was turning blood-red.\n\nPete knew soon enough that the program would finally, thankfully, be discontinued for good. Even with the huge number of people saved from drowning, the pure callousness of the mermaids' attacks was enough of a PR hit. His shaky hands reached for the oxygen tank, helping the victim at his feet. \n\n\"*Really* wish we had gone with dolphins.\""
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[WP] In an alternate dimension, airports aren't just the place where you get on and off airplanes. They're also the one and the only place that you can find your significant other
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"It was finally my turn. The day I had been waiting for, for a long time. I straightened out my collar, took one more look in the mirror and I set off. \n\nI could feel the cool air hitting my clammy forehead as I drove. I can't even remember the drive that well because I spent so much of it worrying about the whole ordeal. I remember how much it rained though. I remember the feeling of wanting someone sat beside me to admire the way the rain hitting the windows made the lights even more haunting. Up until that moment, I had the perfect ghost of what I desired, keeping my head above the water. I was terrified and excited all at the same time. I never thought hormones could be on your side but totally against you too. \n\nI finally got to the airport with about 7 hours to spare. Ha, no, it was more like 2 but the time I spent sitting and shaking in my car felt like a lifetime. This was what I had been building up in my head for so long. What if she didn't like me? What if she isn't everything I imagined? What if she was (god forbid) a CAT person? I'm joking. I love cats, but you know what I mean. \n\nThe next hour or so consisted of me going through the motions in customs, security and everything else just as panic filled as I have previously described. I finally got to my gate and sat staring at my phone trying to get over the fact that my life was about to change. Slowly the departure time was creeping up and I had to fight of the urge to look around at all of the faces that would set my mind racing. I had to just focus for a little while longer. \n\nThe noise of the tannoy startled me. \"We will be boarding in 5 minutes. Please line up according to your boarding pass. Thank you!\". Everyone started to stir and do that crazy thing that everyone does at airports, scrambling to be in the front of the line. Luckily, on this particular flight, I didn't have to deal with screaming babies or chair kicking children. That was one hell of a peaceful wait. \n\nI found my seat first. I was really hoping she would be sat first just to ease my panic for a little while. I'm clearly not that lucky though. I sat and tried to read the safety card but I couldn't focus. I knew that in a matter of mere minutes, I was going to meet her. \n\n\"Sorry, I kind of like the window seat\" I heard above me. I paused before I lifted my head to follow the voice. Savouring the image of the ghost I had created one last time before I shattering it. I finally looked up and there she was. This kind of, half side smile, leaning again the top of the chair. You could almost see the world in her eyes. I was intrigued from that very moment. \"Sure thing, I like the aisle seat anyway\" I said. \"Guess we've got the rest of forever to learn those kind of things now.\" She said shyly as she sat down. \"I guess so\" I replied. She turned out to be everything that I didn't know I wanted.",
"\"Honey, you know I just want you to be happy,\" Mom said in her tone that really meant 'I'm worried about you'. I sighed, trying to form a response, but she cut me off before I could simply reply that I was fine. \"You don't want to be the weird resident still living in the same Airport when he's 30!\"\n\n\"Well what if I'm not even sure I want to become a Suburbian?\" I snapped back in a tone I instantly regretted. My Mom paled, and looked around a few times before leaning closer to the tele-comm screen with an exacerbated expression.\n\n\"I'm glad your father didn't hear you say that.\" She shook her head, and gave me that look only a mother could. \"Look, I get it, it's scary to leave what you know. But if you're trying to be rebellious, it's not like you have to move into the same Burb-District as us! I'd be happy if you settled down with a girl at O'Hare, or SEA-TAC, or even HKIA for all I care! You just deserve the order and the stability that being a Suburbian provides! You'll be happy, you'll see.\"\n\nI slumped my shoulders in a bit of resignation. It was hard to describe to someone how you could he happy with a lifestyle that labels you a loser, a non-contributor... and even harder to actually defend it. I was beginning to try, when she cut me off.\n\n\"You remember the Belsons? The family of 5 from Gate 1201 E? You used to play with the middle boy? Well their older boy just had twins, so City Hall allowed them to install \\*two\\* extra guest rooms onto their unit. Can you believe that?\" To an outsider, it would have sounded like she was making idle conversation, or even trying to motivate me, but I knew better.\n\n\"So \\*that's\\* what this is about! You don't get to install any guest rooms until you have enough Direct Relatives to earn the ordinance, huh? You're embarrassed that you can't keep up with the Jonses?!\" She flushed a deep red, but composed herself with a twist of her lips.\n\n\"Oh come on, honey, this isn't some magical time in the past when there was enough land for hotels and resorts! If we want to go anywhere in the world now, we have to be able to match residencies for the best rate! As it stands, we'll never see an ocean again!\" \n\n\"Well then maybe you should have never left the Gateways!\" I said as I angrily pounded the End Call button. I immediately felt bad about it, but in the end, at least we ended the conversation more honest with each other than an hour of blathering had accomplished. \n\nI rubbed the tension out of my face before turning out to leave my room and wander along the Terminal. I'd eventually apologize to her, but I just wasn't ready to leave the magic of such a changing world. People come, people go. I smiled softly, watching the contrast of walking patterns that Residents had versus the Travelers, the sights and sounds meant to entice and delay boredom. I knew there were a dozen like them above and below me, but this one was my own.\n\nMaybe she was right. Maybe I should see world, as much as one can having only having enough status to move any further than from Airport to Airport. But maybe... maybe there was another one like me, and I never knew because neither of us ever made the right flight and took a chance on building up residency credit somewhere else, in another Terminal. I don't \\*need\\* to become a Suburbian if I find her. I just first have to be willing to take the chance.\n\nI sighed, and began to wander to the Outgoing Wing. It wouldn't hurt to see where I think my soul-mate might have holed up. \n\nIt's not like I was going anywhere otherwise."
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[WP] In this world, the constellations are the astral forms of gods, and when a constellation vanishes, a god is walking on earth. Tonight, every star in the sky has vanished.
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"“Gather around now,” the tall Clio chimed. She wore a neat little round hat on top of her blond curly hair. Her white flowing silk dress had been replaced by a dark blue and chick suit with a knee long skirt. Her tiny pale feet were nestled in simple but elegant pumps. The other gods, dressed in a similar fashion, scuffled around her. Clio lifted her elegant slender arm. \n\n“And this is the Lincoln Memorial,” she said an excited smile on her lips. “Works on the foundation started as early as 1914 but it wasn’t completely done before 1922. It took a whole year just to lay the foundation.”\n\nA few *aaahhs* and *oohhs* were audible from the crowd of men and women and the few individuals who looked human but showed some rather unique features such as hooves and horns. \n\n“When the country joined the first World War, work on the memorial slowed down. At some point during the construction the men in charge found that the statue of dear Mr. Lincoln was way too small for this grand monument so they ordered a bigger one, which delayed construction even further.”\n\nA bystander would hear the digital clicking of a camera phone and occasionally even the real *click-phop* of a rather ancient model. Bright flashes washed over the massive statue, illuminating the bright surface in the dark night. \n\n“And when you turn, my dear deities, then you will see the impressive Washington Monument,” the sweet Clio went on. The camera holding crowd turned. More *ooohhs* and *aaahhs* and clicking. \n\n“This monument was built in the late 1800s to honor one of the founding fathers of this country,” Clio went on. The gods listened eagerly. They had rarely ever seen these attractions from up close. When someone had suggested that it was about time for another field trip, most of the deities had happily agreed. Usually they did not get to mingle with the humans. And most times they did not want to. When they had to come down here, it usually meant work. Getting a break from the same old routine, however, was a nice little diversion and most of them enjoyed the day out. They had already visited the old pyramids again, the Easter Islands, the London Eye and after America they would move on to Rio de Janeiro and Machu Picchu. This field trip was great! ",
"Astrophysicists and amateur astronomers alike scrambled to determine what turned the night sky into an even darker void. The only remaining lights above shone from satellites and passing aircraft. Closer to earth’s surface, there were even more uncanny events taking place.\n\nOver the Florida Keys, residents stared in amazement as a legless, avian monstrosity passed overhead; refracted colors emanated from its radiant tail for miles to the South. Larger than an aircraft carrier, it cut through the sky like a razor blade through thin plastic. Little did they know it was Apus - The Bird of Paradise.\n\nIn the South Pacific off the coast of southern New Zealand, a few young couples retreated from a hidden cove where they were spending a romantic evening. Out of the surf crawled a colossal crustacean as tall as the rock faces that surrounded it. It pummeled the earth as it side-stepped, leaving small craters behind as it moved inland. Cancer the Crab decided to investigate Terrain landscape from the surface.\n\nHeadlines of the hallucinatory phenomena propagated around the globe. The Argo Navis sailed off the coast of California. In the West Hesse Highlands in Germany, Zeus took the form of the Tarus. He thrashed through the woodland in search of Europa the Phoenician King Agenor.\n\nHumanity was sharing the planet with the gods and deities of mythical tales.\n\nDeep below the Pentagon in the United States, a group of the world’s finest scientists, military commanders, politicians, and spiritual leaders discussed the situation at hand. President Novu cleared her throat, “Ladies and gentlemen. We have been gathered here to examine the recent phenomena that has purged our night sky and filled our planet with other worldly beings. Most of our allies have reported no hostility from the divinities and are making attempts at contact as we speak.”\n\n“Sir, that’s not entirely accurate” reported the secretary of defense. “We just received word that an exceptionally large three headed creature has surfaced in the Mediterranean of the northern coast of Egypt. It has apparently destroyed countless and buildings in the city of Alexandria killing many residents in its wake. It’s headed southeast toward Cairo destroying everything in its path.”\n\n“Cetus!” Replied a cloaked mystic from the opposite side of the room. “This will not be remediated by human intervention alone…” Commotion ensued and the party members began arguing over a plan of action.",
"\"Crux, tell Cass and the others what you told me.\" Orion sank to a low squatting position, his feet shifting from side to side as if he were about to spring into action. His eyes drifted over the fire and into the woods behind the gathering, searching the trees.\n\n\"Calm down, Orion, there are no predators for leagues on the earth these days,\" Cassiopeia brushed a wayward hair from her cheek and quirked a small smile over at Crux, who matched her gaze for a moment then looked away. \"Well, Crux?\"\n\nCrux was standing, pacing a few feet in each direction, refusing to take a seat at the circle. He adjusted his captain's hat ever so slightly, as if to remind himself it was there and what his purpose was. His eyes swept over the gods in attendance, counting them off one by one in his head. They were all here, the motley crew that they were, being lit by the flickering campfire instead of brightening the night sky. \n\n\"As all of you know, I take my duties as the captain of the skies very seriously.\" Crux stroked his long, greying beard, his stare drifting up to the pitch black sky. \"As such...\" He paused to aim a cold stare at Cassiopeia, who had whispered 'too seriously' as he spoke. For such a beautiful woman, she could be trying at times. Crux continued.\n\n\"I feel it is my duty to report that I have lost touch with some of the other pantheons. They seem to have just... disappeared.\" Crux stopped pacing, eyeing his cohorts as he said the words, gauging their response. \n\n\"Crux...\" Centaurus broke the silence, taking a step into the circle, his cloven hooves scattering the loose dirt around the campfire. \"Is it possible that you've simply grown...\"\n\nCentaurus shrank back as Crux stepped forward, his eyes cold. A large eagle wheeled in from above, alighted on Crux's shoulder and piped a few quick notes. Crux took a deep breath and calmed himself, then ran a hand down Aquila's neck, silently thanking the bird. He'd been on edge since the first few disappearances and the fact that they showed no signs of stopping alarmed him greatly.\n\n\"No,\" he intoned, dredging up his best command voice. \"Something out there is consuming worlds and those like us. This is not like the normal darkness, the void we all feel at the edge of reality. This is different. This could be the unmaking.\"\n\nTwo dogs began barking at his words, snarling and yapping at the sky. Bootes the Herdsman cuffed each one in turn, then looked at Crux with sincerity. \"I've been around a long time, Northern Cross. If my days are at an end, then so be it, but I will not go willingly. What do you propose we do about this threat?\"\n\n\"Threat?\" Cassiopeia stood up from her seat on a small log, reflexively smoothing out her dress. \"Crux, really. What threat could possibly be eliminating entire galaxies and their gods? There's just no... There's nothing in any prophecies or...\"\n\n\"There are tons of prophecies, but most were created by man in an attempt to serve themselves. To even bother basing our knowledge on that heap of dung is a fallacy in itself.\" Orion adjusted his belt, then pulled a small knife it. \"We must know more about what we face. Crux, what else can you tell us?\"\n\nCrux shook his head, his eyes downcast. \"I can only warn, and give tidings of the hundreds of galaxies that have been snuffed out. I know no more than that.\"\n\n\"Is that all we can do, then? Wait?\" Bootes stomped down a foot, his worn, calloused hands clenched. \"What's stopping us from hunting it?\" His dogs howled their agreement, each pawing at the ground.\n\nCrux nodded. Aquila whistled her own agreement, her feet dancing about on Crux's shoulders. Cassiopeia shurgged, her green eyes sparkling in the firelight. She stepped into the circle, bringing herself almost nose to nose with Crux.\n\n\"Well, are we not gods?\" She said, her fingers trailing down his bread.\n\n\"We are.\" Crux smiled at her and turned to Orion. \"Is the hunter ready?\"\n\nOrion smiled, his teeth bared in the firelight. \"It's been too long already, I'd say.\"\n\n[/r/IntoTheSlushPile](https://www.reddit.com/r/intotheslushpile/)\n\n\n\n\n",
"Suddenly, I felt a cold, stinging wind pass over my sleeping body. I awoke with a start, eyes pulled wide open, and jumped out of the cot. I raced outside my tent, and towards Sultan, my wolf dog who kept watch over me as I slept during the night. \n\nThese days, nights had been far more dangerous than in years past. Used to be that one could sleep through the night without a worry in the world, but now... I would be lucky if I slept for more than 3 hours without being woken up. Usually Sultan barks and moans when a small intruder makes his or her appearance. I shoo these animals off quickly, and scold them for disturbing my sleep. For the larger friends who visit us, Sultan goes from barking to a deep growl combined with howling. That's when I know I really need to get the fuck out of bed. \n\nBut something... something was different about this night. As I made my way outside the tent, bleary eyed, and stepped barefoot onto the musty, recently dried grass mixed with mud and dirt, the chill I felt earlier began to creep. At first I felt it in my bones, but my leaving the tent was almost as if a perfect incision had been made in my skin, which allowed this cold wind to seep into my blood stream and slowly crawl it's way up veins until it lazily snuggled up around the crevices of my heart. \n\nTonight, there was no barking, no howling, no growling... only silence. The Gods are usually quiet at night, they don't like to make an appearance unless something catastrophic is about to take place. They make it down in time to reduce the damage, and return before sunrise so their illumination stays intact for the next night. And that's how the world worked. Each night, one, maybe two, or maybe even three if the tragedy was particularly bad, make it down to Earth, and they leave well before they lose their ability to shine forever - that is, of course, before the Sun comes up.\n\nAs I walked with leaden feet towards Sultan, I noticed a strangeness about him. He did not move when he saw me, he did not make a single sound - it was as if he was sculpted from ice.\n\nHe stood transfixed, but the strangest thing of all was that his head was facing upwards - in a crooked and unnatural way. He eyes gazed up into the deep sky - almost as if mesmerized. \n\nFinally, I wormed toward his ragged feet, and knelt down cautiously. I did not touch him - not because I did not want to disturb or startle him... but rather because I was *afraid*. \n\nAfraid to look up.\n\nAfraid to look and see for myself what Sultan had long ago realized. \n\nAfraid to look up.\n\nAfraid to look up and find that the Gods were no longer there. \n\nThere is only one reason every star, every God, vanishes from the night sky...\n\n...when they finally decide to come for us. "
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[WP] Yesterday, you woke up with a bruised neck and one word in your brain: Carl. On the news you see that a girl in your town died. Cause of death, strangulation. Prime suspect, Carl White. Today, you wake up with a wound in the shape of a bullet hole over your heart, and one word in your brain...
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"Josh. That was the name that played over and over in her head. From the minute she opened her eyes that morning all she could think of was Josh. She'd tried to drown it out as she took her morning jog, thankful it was winter and her turtleneck covered her bruised throat. Josh She'd blared her music as she showered, singing at the top of her lungs. Josh. But it hadn't done any good. \n\nAmelia stared at her reflection in her mirror, water dripping onto the tile floor. Josh. Her black eyes focused on the bruise over her heart. Josh. When she'd gone to sleep the night before only her throat had been purple from bruising. Josh. Yet, the nasty black and blue spot on her chest was a clear as her hair was ebony.\n\nShe didn't know how it happened or why it was there but she knew it wouldn't be good. With a shaking hand she reached up and touched her throat. It was already changing color, the edges a garish yellow. Somehow, it always seemed that bruises looked worse before they looked better. Carl. The name seemed to whisper in her mind as her fingers brushed aginst the tender skin. She shuddered and pulled her hand away. \n\nShaking her head she finished drying off and grabbed her phone. Amelia knew she couldn't face work, not while the bruise was still there, and sent a quick text to her boss. Though she'd grown up knowing lying was wrong she told Bethany she was sick. Somehow she doubted the no nonsense woman would believe that magic bruises were showing up on her secretary's body while she slept. Josh.\n\nThe first one had shown up yesterday, giving Amelia quite the fright. She could barely speak, her throat hurt too much to eat anything solid. Thankfully it had been her day off and Amelia was able to hideout at home. Josh. \n\nThe name was different yesterday though. The whispered Carl filled her mind, making her believe she was losing it. Her mother was right, she worked too hard, and was going insane from the stress. But then she'd turned on the TV. Josh.\n\nThe morning news was still on and Amelia had stood frozen in shock . The top story was about some poor girl,only 15. She'd been found strangled, her bruised throat matching Amelia's perfectly. The prime suspect, a certain Carl White. When they showed a recent picture of him, asking people to please call the police should they see him, Amelia nearly threw up. It was Carl. Carl that made her coffee every morning down at Coffee Grounds. Carl that told her to have a good day and asked how her dad was doing. Carl that showed her pictures of his grandkids.\n\nToday Amelia knew better than to turn on the TV as she went to the kitchen. Josh. She was terrified of what she would learn. Carl was someone she knew. Someone that didn't have an evil bone in his body. Or so she had thought. Josh. What if Josh was someone she knew. As she poured her bowl of raisin bran she studied her simple engagement ring. Josh. \n\nIt still felt wrong on her hand, her fingers not used to the smooth band dividing them. Josh. She was supposed to see him today, have dinner with her parents and his to tell them the good news. Josh. Amelia bit her lip, now unsure if they should. Josh. \n\nShe'd been close to Carl and he was the only person she knew with his name. Amelia sat the cereal box down in the counter and took hurried steps to the living room. Josh. She had to know. The remote was in her hand all she had to do was turn it on. Josh. Her finger froze over the power button. She didn't want to know. Josh\n\nShe bit her lip again, nearly breaking the skin and pressed the button. The news was still on and she crumpled to the floor as a face she knew as well as her own appeared on the screen. Josh. Her Josh. Her beloved Josh. The only man she'd ever loved, accused of murder and she had the bruise to prove it. \nJosh.\n\n*Edited to fix paragraph spacing.*",
"Ellie.\n\nThe name echoed in my mind as I felt a bloody wound on my chest. I quickly turned on the news feed to see what happened.\n\n\"... a young girl has gone missing last night. Officials are currently looking in the nearby woods where she was last seen\".\n\nI hurried out the door for the woods. Yesterday may have been a crazy coincident, but twice in a row seems too much.\n\nEllie.\n\nI ran deeper into the woods, the dry fall leaves and twigs cracking as I bolted past a creek. \n\nWho would shoot the girl? Was Ellie a jealous friend? Maybe the mother? I planned an explaination on who killed the missing girl in my head over and over.\n\nJust as I was deep in thought, I spotted yellow caution tape around an old log cabin, in addition to a small crowd of people. \nIn the centre was a crying old woman on her knees, her body limp. \n\n\"Is there an Ellie here?\"\nI hoped to find the killer in the crowd, to expose the true criminal.\n\nExcept I only saw disapproving glares from the crowd of people, and a single hand from the old woman pointing towards the cabin.\n\nInside lay a beautiful young girl, her left hand holding a bloodstained letter. Her right held a gun.\n\n\n\n",
"Between looking at the blood on my bed and the hole in my chest, I had already decided to postpone going to work today.\n\nI might have been a skeptic, a stoic man in my best days, an \"emotionless prick\" in the worst, but this was beyond me. As much as I wanted to believe in a coincidence, to keep grappling at that after today, after \"Carl\", would now be the irrational choice.\n\nIn my defense, having a mental illness considerably decreases the likelihood of a person being optimistic in general. Really, it should have been no surprise for anyone who knows me that I turned out as calculating as I did. I've heard some \"self-absorbed\"s and \"pretentious\" being thrown around as well, in those days. It hurts, but at least I got worse issues to pay attention to - I thought ominously, staring at what I could only hope was my own blood, infecting the crimson sheets, extensively spread across hours ago. The blood, I think.\n\nI know this isn't leading anywhere. I'll shower, eat some cereal, maybe watch the news. We'll start there.\n\n...\n\nToo cold today. I'll slow the flow, make this as warm as it can be. Take my time.\n\nMuch better. Worrying about circuits, bills and what not can wait. I got a fucking hole in my chest.\n\n...\n\nThat shower was not as long as I thought it was. Got my bowl in time to watch the news, but I'm not hungry. I'm thinking. It's hard to think with a mouthful. Another kid died today, yet another kid. Shot through the heart. \"Carl\", Carl White, is real. Can't say I'm terribly surprised at all that. I was half expecting it. But I'm just one person, what can I do about it?\n\n...\n\nI really like this window. The whole town looks so peaceful. I can't see it all from here, but it's enough. Let's take a walk, enjoy what I can. I've committed, now, haven't I? To being healthy for once?\n\nI hate this feeling of laughing at self pity. It's not funny.\n\n...\n\n...\n\nThere it is again. I'm back home. Fucking hell, I'm back home and I need another shower. Fuck. I probably should think-\n\nIt was beyond me. How?\n\nThe blood, I think. In the crimson sheets.\n\nWhere are the goddamn lights? I haven't looked at the mirror in a few days, have I? Shit, there was daylight an hour ago, this place was fucking hot like a hot spring! **Where are the fucking lights?**\n\n*click*\n\nOddly enough, I'm not surprised at my own face. I'm at least pleased I can recognize the oddity. But I don't quite understand.\n\nI've never wondered how to stop **this** flow, have I?\n\nThe electronic clock ticks, 15 minutes away from the first hour of the day, as my breath becomes increasingly rapid and shallow. Anxiety was an old acquaintance of mine, but as such, I had already learned how to dismiss it. I'd rather talk to you in person, okay?\n\nStop. I have to breathe through my mouth now. Fuck. Back to the moment, Carl, back to the moment.\n\nI knew what needed to be done.\n\nOr at least, what I could and wanted to do, right now. If I wake up tomorrow, maybe I'll do something else... maybe someone will help.\n\nI hate the feeling of laughing at self pity, and yet again I couldn't stop it.\n\nIt is apparent now that being a skeptic doesn't mean I can't make mistakes. I'm about to go to work again. Maybe there's a flaw here, then? Am I missing something?\n\nI've never been into guns. But there it is, staring back. Four bullets left. I really like how it looks. It's always heavier than I expect.\n\nI never actually thought the strangling would work, to be honest. It's just what I did, after finding out I'm a vampire, a gremlin, a mummy, whatever the fuck. Maybe something closer to a Doppelgänger. Right? Are those things supposed to survive being shot at? Maybe a werewolf, then. Maybe I should look for silver bullets!\n\nBut am I missing something? How could I solve this? I'm just a guy! How could I solve this?\n\nI really like this bed.\n\nBut seriously, **this week** is when I finally decide to develop a healthy habit like that? Let's take in the sights, breathe in the fresh air! Do it again tomorrow, except tomorrow I'm also killing myself! I can't help but laugh every time I open that door. But I really like this bed. \n\n\nFuck it, I'm laying down. Time to go to work, as I told my friends and family I would time and time again. I did it! In fact, I did more than once, somehow! This doesn't count as lying, does it? It's hard to think with a mouthful.\n\nMaybe I'll actually get there this time.",
"Six hours. He should have seen this coming. No good deed goes unpunished, after all.\n\nDean had barely been able to sleep last night. It wasn't the pain in his neck, that had subsided by late afternoon. But his brain had refused to turn off. He couldn't begin to understand why or how it had happened. Only after half a bottle of Jameson and the last of the pain meds he'd borrowed from his sister was he able to sleep at all.\n\nThen he woke up, saw that it had happened again, and his conscious had gotten the best of him.\n\n\"I'm not going to make it in today,\" he said into the phone. The foreman prattled on angrily for several seconds before Dean cut him off. \"I told you, I'm at the police station -- no, I'm not under arrest, I just have... information about a case.\"\n\nNot that the foreman cared. Unsolved crimes didn't affect his bottom line, but overdue carpentry projects did, and this was Dean's third day out that month. The other end of the phone went dead. *Just what I need*, thought Dean, *more drama today.*\n\nHe reached into the bag and grabbed more fries. One of the officers had been assigned to babysit him, and given that they hadn't let him out of this interrogation room since 8:00am, he'd finally convinced the rookie to get him some food. Dean wasn't sure if he'd forgotten the ketchup on mistake or out of angst at being made an errand boy.\n\nThe room's only door opened. It was the detective Dean had first spoken with that morning. He hadn't seen him since.\n\n\"Thanks for waiting,\" chirped the detective in a high-pitched voice that didn't match his heavyset frame. \"Hope we haven't inconvenienced you.\"\n\n\"You lock me in a room for half a day, and you hope everything's OK?\" Dean was usually a calm guy -- even boring, according to a few recent dates -- but he couldn't stop worrying that he'd lose his job over this. Over trying to do the right thing.\n\nBut the detective ignored his comment. \"I'd like you to tell me exactly where you were last night.\"\n\n\"Home, in bed with the TV on.\"\n\n\"And with a bottle of grandpa's cough medicine on the bedside table, right next to an empty bottle of oxycodine in someone else's name.\"\n\nDean reeled. \"Wait... you went to my house? Who the hell let you into my house?\"\n\n\"You come in here smelling like booze and know details of a murder that had only been reported minutes before,\" the detective said with dark eyes. \"Mixing pills and liquor is an easy way to lose control and forget what happened.\"\n\n\"But... I didn't do it! I showed you the injury,\" Dean stammered, pointing to his heart. \"Why would I have a hole in my chest and the name Susan banging around in my head? You can't possibly...\"\n\nThe detective raised his hand to stop him. \"No one's accusing you of anything. Not now, anyway. Susan Stotts confessed to murdering her husband three hours ago. Caught him with the neighbor's adult daughter.\"\n\nDean felt an invisible weight come off his shoulders. Obviously he hadn't done it, he knew that, but for two minutes the fear had been real. Being locked in a police station with a detective does that to a man.\n\nBut then Dean realized something else. \"Three hours, you said? Then why the hell have you kept me trapped in here?\"\n\nThe detective shifted his not-insignificant weight in the chair, and Dean didn't think it was for physical comfort. Something was bothering the cop. \"Strange case like this, calls had to be made. Someone wants to see you.\"\n\n\"What? Who? I have to stay even longer?\"\n\n\"No good deed goes unpunished,\" replied the detective dryly. Then he stood up and opened the door. A different man walked in, this one slim and balding and wearing an expensive suit. He nodded to the detective -- not out of courtesy, but as a dismissal.\n\nThe suit sat as the detective closed the door behind him. But before this stranger could begin, Dean's frustration got the best of him once more. \"Look, I don't know who you are, but you've already caught the lady who off'd her husband. You don't need me anymore. If I don't get out of here soon I could lose my job.\"\n\n\"Interestingly,\" replied the suit with a thin smile, \"if you are what I think you are, I may have a new job for you.\"\n\nedit: minor grammar, a couple style details"
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[WP] You're a player in a high-stakes underground Dungeons and Dragons league, where thousands of real dollars are at stake with every quest.
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"Each hex was a real turf war, no one wanted their crew to survive.\n\nThe question was: “How do you make it to the treasure room, without having to share?”\n\nA6, as it was on the map, contained some type of monster, what it was depended on the roll. If it was high, it would be an easy kill, my “crew” would be left facing the boss, I would have loads of mana left to carry them just enough.\n\nA low roll however would leave me with a mini boss. If that happened, they would leave me for dead, and move on. I would be out of the game, and out of my buy in.\n\nI picked up the D20, instinctively feeling it’s weight, and judging its fairness. \n\nI rolled.\n\n4\n\nFucking 4. A lesser dragon, resistant to all magic status is effects. \n\nI screamed, I cried.\n\nThe smiles that they wore made it sting even more. \n\nI needed that money, just $1700 to pay the mob. \n\nNow I couldn’t even pay my rent."
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[WP] "Nobody ever summons Waluigi on purpose. Wa!"
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"The ritual was just right, Amelia had set it up so that there was only a inch of moonlight seeping from the window and that the circle was a circle as can be.\n\n Amelia reached into the jar of salt taking only a handful, she placed the salt in the blood drawn circle and tried to recreate a picture of Luigi. \"Soon!, I'll take over the world!, with Luigi's glare I'll be able to destroy anybody I want! HAHAHAHAHAH\" Amelia erupted into giggles. \n\nquickly she grabbed a small pin, not realizing that the salt drawing of Luigi looked more closely to Waluigi, she pricked her finger, letting her blood fall onto the salt, she chanted in a strange, dead language.\n\nthere was a puff of smoke, Amelia looked up with a insane grin on her face, it quickly fell as instead of Luigi there was Waluigi, standing in all his glory \"Nobody ever summons Waluigi on purpose. WA!**\"** he said\n\n \"n-no, this can't be happening?!\" Waluigi looked at her confused tilting his head slightly, Amelia glared at the salt drawing before picking herself off the floor and reaching her arm out for a handshake too Waluigi. 'No matter, I'll just have to rearrange my plans a bit' she thought."
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[WP] It's the main battle sequence with good guys vs bad guys in an undercover base invasion. You're hired security who's just intended to be cannon fodder, except you're actually amazing at your job
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"The starry black night sky was warm and wet in the swampy countryside. Past the tall bog trees and grey running streams was a small clearing in the woods. It was in this clearing the private security guards, Henry and Stacy, were on Day 14 of their contract with the Corona Cartel as they stood the nightly watch.\n\nHenry rubbed his prickly chin and coughed as white smoke billowed out of his nostrils as he returned back to his post at the sealed front gate of the chain fence perimeter surrounding the brightly-lit cartel compound. Spit and snot flushed out from his nose as he turned back in horror to the smiling partner, Stacy as she tied a long piece of thick, steel wire into a sailor's knot.\n\n\"Stacy, where in the hell did you get that wire?\" he said as he wiped his nose clean and quickly shoved away a small black cylinder into his fanny pack.\n\nShe grinned and turned towards him, \"Look, I finally got the knot down!\"\n\n\"Stacy, answer the stupid question!\"\n\nThe short, chubby brunette frowned and pointed at the meticulously cut out hole several meters away from the front gate. Henry gaped his mouth at the sight of it.\n\n\"Why?! Why on earth would you cut out a piece of the fence?\" he yelled, pulling out a small cell phone from one of the many pockets of his wonderful fanny pack. \"Jesus christ, I need to call this in.\"\n\n\"It wasn't me,\" Stacy replied as she started to undo the knot, \"It was like that when I looked over at it. I think it might've gotten weathered down or something.\"\n\nHenry paused and put down his phone. \"It's a brand new fence. I literally installed it with you and Miguel a week ago. There's no way it should've started to fall apart already.\"\n\nStacy shrugged. \"Well, the wiring came out somehow and I know for a fact that I didn't do it...\" Stacy thought about this for a moment before a brilliant thought came into her head. \"Did you do it?\"\n\nShe turned to Henry and eyed him with suspicion.\n\n\"I was off on a smoke break in the toilet, remember?\"\n\nAnd thus, that brilliant theory was crushed.\n\nHenry pondered this for a moment, \"Wait... you think it might've been a narc?\"\n\n\"I don't think it's about time for birds to fly down for the winter, yet.\"\n\n\"Not a lark, a narc!\" he groaned, \"You know, a copper. A federal agent? US DEA?\"\n\nSuddenly, a loud boom blasted through the building behind the bumbling security guards. Gunfire errupted and sirens blared loudly throughout the compound. The security lights got cut off and turned dark as another explosion lit up the compound less than a mile away.\n\n\"That sounded like the generator,\" Stacy noted.\n\nHenry buried his head in his hands, \"Oh my god, we're going to get fired again.\"\n\n\"Undercover agents are a pain in the ass nowadays, aren't they,\" Stacy nodded, \"Hey, maybe we should try to get in on their line of work instead?\"\n\n\"Maybe,\" Henry agreed.\n\nThe loud sound of engines revving could be heard from the entry to the compound. It sounded like the invaders were getting into one of those car-on-car gunfights with some of the cartel hired guns.\n\nStacy and Henry simultaneously let out a loud sigh. If there was one good thing about the post, it was the fact that they weren't going to die getting shot to death. Sure, the boss that hired them but cut off their limbs and feed their severed heads to a turtle or something. But, it wouldn't get much worse than that.\n\nSuddenly, a brilliant thought came to the morons. A brilliant, yet stupid thought.\n\n----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------\n\n\"Van Hausen! Where the hell is that entrance?!\" a hot-blooded and shirtless bald man with a machine gun yelled to the suit-wearing driver of the hi-jacked ATV.\n\nThe ATV hummed and sped alongside the fence of the compound as gunfire blazed from behind the two drug enforcement agents. Van Hausen, the driver, kept his eyes dead on the road as Jack fired off rounds from his machine gun at their pursuers.\n\n\"Just a few yards away! I can see that bit of wire we cut out along the chain fence earlier.\"\n\nIt had taken a few months, but Jack and Van Hausen had finally managed to find the Corona compound after getting the location from two drunk morons in town nearby. Pictures of the compound were taken and it was discovered that the cartel had a rat in on their schemes. It was none other than Jack's ex-partner and the current director of the agency himself, a man with a really generic name and deep voice who was abandoned by the agency in a mission gone wrong that happened a long, long time ago.\n\nVan Hausen hit the brakes on the car and the wheels screeched as the vehicle turned around on the exit. Just a few more feet and they'd be home free.\n\n\"Looks like those guards we snuck by are gone! Thank god for that!\" shouted Van Hausen as he put the pedal to the metal and sped through the opened entrance of the compound.\n\n\"Watch the road, Van! The lights got cut when I blew the generators and we don't need to be crashing into anything.\"\n\n\"Hey, wasn't this gate closed when we got in-\"\n\n...\n\nThe ATV flipped over and send the bodies of the two men flying. The pursuing cartel vehicles stopped in their tracks as the hired guns armed with rifles exited the vehicle and began to approach the infiltrators on foot.\n\nThey were stopped when one of them ended up stepping on a thick, squishy mass. Grossed out, that hired gun, who just so happened to be Miguel, the guy who helped set up the fence, started screaming. He ended up slipping on yet another thick, squishy mass and falling face-first. Something wet and metallic dropped into his hand as he went crashing to the ground.\n\nA flashlight blinded Miguel as he got back up. He aimed his rifle directly at the source of the light and found none other than the two doing the night watch at the front gate.\n\nStacy squealed and leapt with giddy, \"Oh my god, I can't believe that actually worked!\"\n\nMiguel regained his senses and looked down at his hand, seeing several thick pieces of blood-covered metal wire. He stared back at the two wet, bloody masses to see just what it was that he had really stepped on. \n\n\"Hey, Henry, Miguel! Did you two hear that weird zipping sound when their heads popped off or was that just the ringing from my tinnitus again?!\"\n\nAnd then, he puked.",
"*Seven twenty five a fucking hour.*\n\nIt was dark. \n\n*Seven Dollars.*\n\nFlood lights blocked out the stars.\n\n*Twenty five cents.*\n\nThey flickered out.\n\n*Every god damn hour.*\n\nFootsteps, about fifty men.\n\n*They don't pay me enough for this shit.*\n\nThe other guards got into defensive positions.\n\n*They expect me to stand here for 12 hours at a time doing absolutely nothing.*\n\nRadio chatter on all sides.\n\n*With the possibility of absolutely everything happening in less than five minutes?*\n\nGunshots and screaming filled the air.\n\n*Oh no, it's not the Count's life that's on the line, its mine.*\n\nHe cocked his 1911.\n\n*And all these other guys they sent here.*\n\nEveryone around him started falling to the ground.\n\n*What are they even doing?*\n\nHe fired all eight rounds of 45 ACP into the darkness.\n\n*God damn government dole takers.*\n\nHe heard eight screams.\n\n*Oh lets join the military they said.*\n\nHe took out his combat knife.\n\n*It'll be fun they said.*\n\nHe stabbed a man in the chest.\n\n*This is such bullshit, how is everyone but me this retarded?*\n\nHe slit a mans throat.\n\n*Does anyone actually care about their quality of work?*\n\nHe pistol whipped a man and then slit his throat.\n\n*I feel like I'm taking crazy pills.*\n\nHe felt the cracking of bones as he snapped a mans neck.\n\n*They don't even let me know what I'm guarding.*\n\nHe used a man as a meat shield and fired the corpse's P90 into the few men left over. \n\n*This is obnoxious.*\n\nHe dropped the body and went back to his post.\n\n*I don't get paid enough for this.*\n\nHe lit a cigarette.\n\n*Seven fucking twenty five an hour.*"
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[WP] You were showering one night. The moment you wiped your face, you realize you're in the deep ocean. Something is lurking nearby.
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"Five minutes.\n\n'OK, 15 minutes to leave for my second job', I think to myself, closing my mouth and eyes to rinse.\n\nI take a breath and feel the salt water push through my gills. My outer eyelids opens, leaving my inner lids to protect my delicate eyes. \n\n'Fuck, not again'.\n\nI learned from the last time that struggling to wake up only brings it closer. The push of water from its passage is tremendous, bobbing me around beneath the waves. Seawater in, push through the gills running behind my jawline, and I start to swim. \n\nThe webbing between my fingers wasn't there last time. My toes are longer, my feet are wider, and there's a thin membrane turning them into flippers. A flutter kick starts me moving away from the pressure of a giant *something* gliding insidiously through the murky ocean.\n\nThese aren't dreams. They're not real, either. I've died half a dozen times in this alien place, each time getting a little further from where I started. I know the way to the reef, and where the venomous eels are hiding. I learned to not startle the anemones, and to ignore the clownfish.\n\nJust beyond known territories, the water clears a little, and there's sunlight dimly glimmering above. I wonder if I can breath above water?\n\nFollowing the light, I course smoothly through fluid atmosphere. It will be good to get my bearings for a moment - CHOMP!\n\nThe feeling of teeth separating my torso from my legs is excruciating. Each one of the hundreds of sharp incisors drag through muscle and bone, and my vision goes black.\n\n\"GAME OVER\"\n\n\"AWwww I was so close!\"\n\n\"Alright, sweetie, it's bed time and I know this game autosaves.\"\n\n\"Alright mom\".\n\nEdit - added a letter"
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[WP] You wake up in the dark, not remembering much. You grab your revolver, open it and see that it has been fired once. You hear a voice, "We told you that wouldn't work."
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"\"We told you that wouldn't work,\" Gabby said, as if she was speaking from the right side of my head. \n\n\"I thought it would confuse the beast,\" Hilda said, her voice at the left. \"That's why I came up with the Darkenator!\" \n\n\"Darkenator? What?\" I said, taking a few steps back, scanning the darkness. What was I just doing? I stumbled, trying to fight the oncoming dizziness. A scratching noise came from where I just was. *A hunt*. \n\n\"The *Darkenator*,\" Gabby said. It sounded like she was holding in a laugh. \"Did you know that beasts can see in the dark, Hilly? How would this work? You said it would be a surprise, and I guess you weren't wrong.\" \n\n\"You want the Annihilator,\" Hilda said, ignoring Gabby. \"That one should work.\" \n\nGabby snorted. \"*The Annihilator*.\" \n\n\"Shut up!\" Hilda said. The left side of my head started to sting. \n\nA cold breeze brushed my cheek, and I fell to the side. A stream of ice blew past where I had been, and there was a hard knock on the supporting beam next to me. Moving away, I watched as spikes of ice burst out of the beam, shredding it apart. I stumbled a bit before regaining my footing. \n\n\"Maybe the Illuminator would be good here,\" Hilda said. \"Wanna use that one?\" \n\nIt sounded like the opposite of what I just fired. Would it help with the dizziness? \n\n\"Yes!\" I said, dodging more ice. If I could just see where the beast was, this would be easy. \"Gabby, take care of the setting.\" \n\n\"But I can't adjust the cylinder,\" she said. \n\nIf Mina were here, this would have been over the moment we stepped into the basement. \n\n\"The Illuminator is the second on the-\"\n\n\"Hilda, quiet,\" I said, dodging. My left started aching. \"Gabby, have you learned to channel yet?\" \n\n\"Yep,\" she said. I felt the revolver grow warm, and flipped it in my hand so the butt was facing up. With a hard tap on the ground, my sense of touch expanded around me in a wave, rolling over the room. \n\n*There*. \n\nWith a few large steps, I arrived where the beast was. It was small, covered with long, disheveled blonde fur. A small orange beak poked out from underneath, and it had what looked like long twigs for legs. It squeaked when it saw me. \n\nI brought the butt of the revolver down onto the beast's head with a satisfying crack. Something caved in. \n\n\"Eeeeeeewwwww,\" Gabby whined. \"I can feel its brains...\" \n\nHilda stayed quiet. The left side of my head was still aching. \n\nLetting out a breath, I kicked the beast away. The revolver glowed briefly before separating into two girls. Gabby shook blood off her boot while Hilda pouted. \n\nI sighed. \"Come on, one more and we're done. Good job, both of you.\" \n\nGabby groaned. \n\nHilda took a deep breath. \n\nOh, Mina, why did you want me to train them? It's not like I could whip them into shape like the other weapons. \n\nI sighed and started toward the stairs. The dizziness was fading. \"Come on, girls.\" \n\n\"Yes, father,\" they said in unison. ",
"I awakened blinded. I could not see anything that was was further than a couple feet ahead of me. I picked myself up off the ground and looked around. Although I couldn’t see anything, I couldn’t shake the feeling that wherever I was I wasn’t alone. As soon as I shifted my leg forward I felt it kick something. I reached down for it and felt it’s cold touch send chills through my arm. As I tried to pick the object up it slipped out of my hands.\n\n*BANG*\n\nThe loud bang was followed by a flash of light. By this point I knew exactly what it was I was holding. I picked it up once again, making sure to not fumble this time. It was a revolver to be exact. I held the handle of the gun close enough to my face that I could see the bullets still remaining in the cylinder. There were only four bullets left.\n\nSuddenly out of the void a voice echoed, \"We told you that wouldn't work.\"\n\nBy the time I realized that someone was talking they were already finished. They didn’t talk long enough for me to pinpoint where in the room they were, but now I knew for certain that someone was lurking in the dark. “Where are you?”, I shouted at the top of my lungs, “Where am I?!”. The room was once again deafeningly silent. I decided to walk in one direction until I could feel a wall and after about 10 seconds of shuffling through the darkness I hit it. I put my back to the wall and gripped the gun even tighter. I wanted the only thing between me and my guest to be a barrel of steel, seeing as it’s the only advantage I had. “This is your last chance to tell me where we are?”, I said while ineffectively trying to quell my terror. \n\n“Do you not remember?”\n\nThis time I could decipher that the voice was coming from the other side of the room. Instinctively, I pointed the gun at the parallel wall. I heard what sounded like movement coming away from where I aimed. A few seconds of me nervously shaking the gun at the wall, and I heard what sounded like walking. Although they had only taken a few steps I could tell they were walking in my direction. “I can hear you! Stay back!”, I yelled while focusing on the section of the murky air in front of me. It appeared as though my warnings had not worked, so I decided to threaten them by threatening to shoot. “Don’t make me shoot you, cause I’ll do it”, I think they knew as well as I did that it wasn’t a threat, so much as a way of reassuring myself. Throughout all of this the footsteps still had not ceased and before I could even think, there was yet another…\n\n*BANG*\n\nAs the bullet flew through the air, it also set the room alight. In the quick fraction of a second it took for the light to appear and die once again, I noticed a figure. The figure was standing maybe….ten feet in front of me. Mere seconds had passed and I still had not heard any footsteps, and proceeded to do one of the dumbest things I could have done, I started walking towards where I had last seen the silhouette. In my mind the walk took an eternity, each step taking minutes. When I made it to the spot I expected to see a downed body, Instead saw nothing but the floor. Before that moment I was terrified, but then I was petrified.\n\nOut of the darkness, no less than a foot from me, came that haunting phrase, “We told you that wouldn't work.”\n\n",
"It was a musty dark, the kind that made the back of my nose tickle. Except, there was blood running out of my nose and I could tell that the dark was coming from me through the warmth I felt on my face. \n\n“We told you it wouldn’t work.” Says the whisper in my head, the ugly maggot in my mind that squirms through my brain. “We told you it wouldn’t work.” It repeats. \n\nI want to repeat it, too, want to open my eyes and say it like I don’t believe it. Yell it to the sun that shines on my face with a warmth I want to feel past my skin. Because it won’t work, not in the long run. At least, not in my long run (not that I’ll be there to see that). It’ll work in my short run and I may be all the better, but . . . \n\nBut the “but” doesn’t really feel like a but anymore. It feels like an excuse, and the gun in my hand feels like the allowance. The “ok” that you want to hear but don’t want to hear, the assurance that you can let go because, well, it’s there isn’t it? And you might as well (mother taught me never to be wasteful). But . . . \n\nThe empty barrel that I don’t remember, don’t want to remember, is telling me that assurance was never close to being given. Because there are still things there that some part of me refuses to let go, is still holding on to by the excess skin of my fingertips that I hate so much. \n\nAnd maybe the next “we told you that wouldn’t work” is a tad more bitter, a bit more vitriolic, because I’m not getting out of this that easy. That empty barrel is going to tell me, remind me of the time that I thought I could go with a half assed excuse and not much else. \n\nBut there is no maybe, as I stand up and consider the revolver in my hand. It’s lighter than I thought it would be, with a metallic sheen that looks so real it’s almost fake. There is no maybe, when I consider my next words and this time it’s “I knew that wouldn’t work” because the thing is, yes, I knew that it wouldn’t. I knew it when I held the revolver in my hand the first time and I’ll know it when I hold it so far down the line it’s underwater, because I can’t afford to let myself forget in the “long run.” Because the assurance I believe so much in, in the first few seconds, can’t compare to the hesitance I feel — the ellipses that I can see with my naked eye as I stare down that loaded barrel. ",
"“We told you that wouldn’t work,” a voice says. My ears are ringing, I can barely tell that anyone spoke.\n\nI’m in a warehouse or a storage room or something, but it’s hard to tell. A flash is burned on to my eyes, like I was staring at the sun. I blink repeatedly, trying to get it out. \n\n“That’s not what the gun is for,” the voice says again. It’s the voice of a woman. “We went over this. We don’t mind that, though. We’ll tell you as many times as it takes for you to understand. We have all the time we need.”\n\nThere’s a gun in my hand. “Did it happen again?” I think Wait, did what happen again? What does that thought even mean?\n\nI try to remember how I got here, but all that comes is a wave of feelings and images. Fear, intense fear, the kind that makes you vomit. A streetlight in the rain. I was going somewhere. I suddenly feel the urge to run again and stand up, feeling nauseous. I pace around the dim room, narrowly avoiding running into empty steel racks. When will this damn spot in my vision go? \n\nI move along the walls, feeling for a door or a blacked-out window or anything at all. I prick my finger on a splinter jutting out from the wall. Someone laughs; it’s a different voice this time, that of a man. “You’re only making it worse for yourself the longer you drag this out,” it says. \n\nIt’s starting to come back to me. I black out and forget things sometimes. That’s right. What the hell is my name again?\n\nThe female voice starts to speak again. “The room is sealed. No doors, no windows, not even a loose board for a cockroach like you to skitter out of. You’re here until you do it.”\n\nIt’s coming back to me in pieces. I live on the street because I can’t remember half of what I did. Half of my day is spent living someone else’s life. Every odd gut reaction I have is something which the other guy learned to hate. Every bruise and scar and scrape, every missing tooth or digit is another enemy he made. I don’t think I want to know who that person is. Some of the places I’ve woken up... Some of the stains on me, some of the things I’ve found in my pockets...\n\nI trip over something, and the gun skids away from me. “Don’t lose it,” the male voice says. “If you do you’re going to be here for a really long time. Fine by me either way. If that’s how you wanna go, I’ll relish every second of it.”\n\nI suddenly realize what the gun is for as the female voice starts to speak again. She starts describing a person; her name, her age, her interests and dreams. Her last night on Earth in grisly detail. I start to feel sick and pace again. I run my hands along the walls even more desperately; I feel excited when I find a doorframe. I go for the handle and push it as hard as I can, but it doesn’t budge. I feel around the knob some more and my fingers brush a small, ragged hole - a bullet hole.\n\nThe female voice has continued to speak in an even tone this whole time, but suddenly I can hear it start to break. “So we will be here every second of every day until, one way or another, we can drag you out of the room.”\n\n“I don’t remember!” I scream. I scream it again and again and again until I collapse from the weight of my rage and nausea. I vomit on the floor as the male voice laughs.\n\nMy vision is starting to clear. I can make out the gun lying a few feet away.\n\nMaybe it’s for the better.\n\n\n\n\n",
"*Five bullets left.*\n\n\"We told you that wouldn't work\".\n\nI snapped the chamber closed and levelled the revolver at the speaker. Two people stood at the further end of the room, dressed in ornate white robes. The one doing the talking held a long golden staff, his comrade a shield and sword. I felt a warm trickle from my temple and wiped away the blood. \n\n*I've woken up in worse situations. But not by much*\n\nGun still trained on the men, I rise, slightly unsteadily. My ribs feel bruised beneath my duster. The one holding the staff lifts his hand out, palm open. I stop and look closer. A small blackened hole stands out starkly against his white robes, right about where the heart should be located.\n\n*So a decent shot at least*\n\n\"We would suggest you do not try again\" stated Gold Staff, his voice melodious but causing the hairs on my neck to rise in a primal response. I aimed between his eyes, glad that my hand at least does not shake.\n\n\"You seem to have me at a disadvantage\" I said, sweeping my hat from the floor and jamming it onto my head, wincing as it scrapes whatever wound I've suffered. \"And given that piece of lead went exactly where I wanted, I take it you're not human or fey\". \n\nThe two glanced briefly at each other but no words were spoken. None the less, I felt that vibration in the air, that almost static buzz that denoted telepathic speech.\n\n*Rude*\n\nI took one more step forwards, holstering my revolver with my right hand and raising my left as they both stared back at me. They seemed to relax slightly. I dropped my left hand to my side and brushed my second revolver.\n\n*Lets see how you like silver*\n\n---------------------------------------------------------------------\nr/AMSWrites",
"*We told you that wouldn't work*\n\nLight?\n\n*We own you. You couldn't even off yourself. Pathetic.*\n\nChamber. Five. Where did the sixth one go? Barrel. Hot.\n\n*You thought this was the solution? You thought it was that easy?*\n\nBreaking through my mental haze, I rush to the door. Locked. As I look down at the gun, clutched tightly in my hands, I feel it start to pulse. Throb. Throb. Warm, like a heart. Yet it was alien, invasive. It was intimate but hostile. \n\n*Come on, give in. Let me help you, I can do it for you*\n\nA familiar choreography, putting the gun to my head. The vibrations grow stronger.\n\n*You know it won't do anything. You're pitiful. You're a fucking* **worm**.\n\nI feel pressure slowly building up from the trigger. It's pushing back. A wave of pure fear washes over me. Nothing I'm not accustomed to. Breathe. Breathe. Cold steel. I push back on the trigger.\n\n*We told you that wouldn't work*"
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[WP] Humanity has decided that each human will contain their emotions in a bottle. They will be allowed to open the bottle and experience their emotions for only short amounts of time. You go one day and open your bottle only to realize that it is completely empty.
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"I wanted to cry.\n\nBut of course, I couldn't. \n\nI wanted to punch something, to scream, to feel... angry or grieving or anything. \n\nBut of course, I couldn't. \n\nI sighed, and I performed the expected behaviour, calling the technical support line for help. \n\n\"Hello?\"\n\n\"Yes, um... my bottle is wrong.\"\n\n\"Wrong?\" \n\n\"It is missing emotions?\" \n\n\"Your number, citizen?\" \n\nI rattled off the digits of my national identification number. \n\n\"Hmm. Oh, yes, we have a flag here, it seems your bottle was part of a bad batch, a parasite took them.\" \n\nI wanted to feel outrage, but of course, I couldn't. \n\n\"Oh. What does that mean?\" I asked. \n\n\"Well, citizen, the parasites ate the entirety of the contents of two thousand bottles before they were found and eradicated. You ordered access to yours six weeks ago, so we could not replace them.\"\n\n\"Replace them?\" \n\n\"Yes, new emotions. Exact replica, it should not worry you.\" \n\nI nodded, not telling her that I was unable to worry. \n\n\"Very well, when can that happen?\" \n\n\"Sometime in the next month, I suppose, depends on the shipments.\" \n\n\"Could I set up an alert?\" \n\n\"Of course, citizen, I will notify you as soon as we have a substitute for your emotions.\" \n\n\"Thank you,\" I said. \"Good bye.\" \n\nSitting in my living room, open bottle on hand, I stared into the distance for a while. I thought that I felt disappointment.\n\nBut of course, I couldn't."
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[WP] You are the grim reaper and have spent your existence collecting souls. One day you try collecting the soul of a human named John Wick and suddenly realise it won't be so straightforward.
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"I am the Grim Reaper, collector of souls and the great motivator of life. I have been tasked in taking the soul of a man known as John Wick. I found out it wasn't that easy.\n\n\nHe shattered my arm, and I can't even feel pain. I'm literally a spirt, and this human broke my arm. How??"
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[WP] You discover that monsters live under your bed, and decide take them to court for trespassing.
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"\"Silence! Silence in the court!\" The judge calls out as he bangs his gavel on his podium. The crowd quickly calms itself. \n\n\"*Thank you*,\" he says, rubbing his temples. \"Now, Mister Raptor. Please continue.\" \n\n\"Thank you, hour honor.\" The raptor wipes his glasses on his impressively well-fitting suit and turns back to the witness stand. \"Where were we? Ah yes, Mister Foot. I believe we were on the subject of your poor, starving family.\"\n\n\"Yes, sir, we were. My poor boy is all fur and bones.\" The yeti replies, leaning too close to the microphone, causing a loud screech to echo through the now silent courtroom. \n\n\"What does your family eat, Mister Foot?\" \n\n\"We feed on fear, sir.\"\n\n\"And would you ever cause any actual *harm* to your host?\" The raptor paces back and forth, his talons clicking loudly on the polished wooden floor. \n\n\"Of course not. We'd starve if anything happened to him.\" \n\n\"No further questions, your honor.\" The Raptor returns to his table and the judge turns his eyes to my lawyer--mister Joeseph Reed. \n\n\"Do you have any questions for this witness?\" \n\n\"I... I do, your honor.\" Poor Joe. He had been our family lawyer for years. Mostly tax related work--he never actually had to go to court. And until today, he didnt know monsters existed. But I have faith in him. Hes a smart guy, and this should be an easy case. \n\n\"Mister B--uh, mister Foot. Do you recall the previous owner of this house?\" \n\n\"Yes, sir. The Thompsons.\" \n\n\"And their little boy, Timmy. You remember him?\" \n\n\"Yes sir.\" \n\n\"Did you reside under his bed, as well?\" \n\n\"Yes, sir. And I think--\"\n\n\"Wait for me to ask a question, please, mister foot. Tell me; where is little Timmy now?\"\n\n\"Well, little Timmy had--\" \n\n\"Please just answer the question directly, sir.\"\n\n\"Well... he's dead.\"\n\nThe statement draws a collective gasp from the gallery. I cant help but smile; it looks like I might win this thing after all. \n\n\"But he--\" \n\n\"No further questions, your honor.\" \n\nThe raptor jumps to his feet, accidentally knocking a man over with his tail who stood in the front row. \"Re-direct, your honor.\" \n\nThe judge waves his approval.\n\n\"Mister Foot, how did little Timmy die?\" \n\n\"Cancer.\" More gasps from the crowd, accompanied by a few obscenities in my direction. The judge yells for quiet once more, then dismisses the witness. \n\n\"The prosecution calls Jane Hildy to the stand, your honor.\" \n\nAnd so the trial goes on. I must admit, I had not expected it to mimic human courts so much. The judge even seemed remarkably fair, considering he was himself a monster. Something with three eyes and four arms; not a creature I'm familiar with. I sit and watch witness after witness, unsure if where the verdict will land. I just want my house to myself. I want these creatures gone. \n\nThe jury returns after about two hours of deliberation. Eleven monsters and one human were selected--wait, where is the human? \n\nI lean close to Joe. \"Wheres the human?\" \n\n\"That's a damn good question.\"\n\nThe jury foreman--an alien of some kind--stands and faces the judge.\n\n\"Have you reached a verdict?\" \n\n\"We have, your honor. We find the defendant, Marcus Foot, not guilty. We also find the Prosecution to be extremely guilty.\" \n\nMy jaw drops. \"Joe, what the hell are they talking about?\" \n\nJoe shoots out if his seat. \"Your honor! Where is juror number twelve?\" \n\nThe alien turns and says, \"He wouldn't accept the verdict, so we shot him to the moon.\" \n\n\"That--thats not legal! You cant just--and what's this nonsense about us being guilty?!\" \n\nThe judge bangs his gavel. \"The law's the law, Mister Reed.\"\n\nThe raptor clicks across the floor, slowly approaching us. \"Your honor, permission to eat the prosecution?\" \n\n\"Granted. Court is adjourned.\" \n\n*Well, shit.*\n\n\n\n>Don't mind me, I'm just seeing how many prompt responses I can shove Raptors into. This is number 2. If you want to read some non-raptor related stories, feel free to check out r/Ford9863. "
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What would that imply? I'm not sure it's even enough for a story. This is a difficult writing prompt.
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[WP] Chronic alcoholics often hallucinate tiny rodents like rats and mice coming out of walls, during early stages of their recovery. What they see is reality, but only they see it.
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"Much like these chronic alcoholics and their rodent problems, my visions are a plague which are entirely real, yet I am the sole clairvoyant that can see them. Others are not affected, and remain unperturbed, undisturbed. My visions begin with a \"leaking\". It's a drip-drip noise, which evolves into the spine-tingling sensation of cold drops of water on my back. My clothes feel wet, as does my hair soon after. I have come to learn that to properly experience these visions, I have to coil myself into the fetal position, relax, and then stand up in order to take it all in. There often is what I like to call an \"omen\". A black flame which replaces the eyes of all those around me. Time seems to pass slowly, too slowly. I can see the minute reactions on people's faces, the small twists and turns tugging at their lips, the age lines on their cheeks moving ever so slightly. There is no music for me, in this suspended state. I can only compare it to a drone, constant and present, yet like elevator music it takes no attention away from the \"omens\" themselves. These black flames flicker in this alternate reality for what seems to be minutes for me, but milliseconds when I am cast out of the pit and back into the open. Everything is normal after the \"omens\" end. I feel fine- mentally tired, but physically unharmed. People seem not to notice my state, and nothing of what was to me the last 10 minutes feels real to them. But it is all to real for me, and even in my dreams to I encounter these emotionless eyes with their sordid tar black flames.\n The question I pondered, is \"What was my alcohol?\" What vice caused me this horrific ailment, which influenced my thoughts, my dreams, and my days? I spent from my first vision at the age of 10 all the way till age 23 figuring it out. When the truth revealed itself to me, it was as each of the \"omens\" did. Sudden, jarring, yet featuring a unique mix of pain and pleasure. I reached out online, and by the age of 15 had found a forum for people who experienced similar \"visions\". None were as unique and vivid as mine. Others reported seeing faceless men, floating specters, waves of thick tar. This group was my saving grace, among the catastrophe that was my life. I was ostracized by my parents, who saw me as a psychotic attention-seeker. I was pumped full of Schizophrenia medications that saw nothing but to augment these sinister visions of mine. But this group, was full of like-minds. And we soon found out the truth, or at least part of it.\n It was 2007. I was 23. I was contacted by Johannes Barre, of the Central Intelligence Agency. I was living out of an outreach program in L.A, and had admitted myself numerous times to various institutions. These didn't help my parents opinions of me. Barre gave me what I had been looking for. Answers. I met him in a coffee shop in Burbank, and we began to speak with each other. He told me of a defunct lab, recently shut down, and that they were looking for individuals who had presumably been experimented on by the scientists at that lab. He told me he needed subjects, so that they may build a case against the group. From 1978-2005 this lab had performed psychological experimentation on various subjects, both human and non-human alike. The victims were in the dozens. Many, I learned, had killed themselves out of pure fear and trauma. But I was happy to know that I had prevailed, that I had survived. So that is where you find me now. I'm in D.C, waiting for results out of a government lab for a possible \"antidote\" to the psychotropics they fed me. It unearthed memories too, of an aunt who would send me to a \"special class\", and reward me with ice cream for my participation. My parents and I are still distant, and I have no intention of reconnecting with them. But I feel there is a way forward now. A path out of the shadows, thrust into the light."
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[WP] Here we go again. The villain has caught you, the hero, once more and is revealing yet another dastardly plan when you realize the true motive behind all of their plans: You are the only person that actually listens and cares about what they have to say.
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"I looked at the manacles that bound me to the wall, nailed through the streamers of coloured paper. The room was still damp from the perspiration in the air, left-over from the big fight.\n\nShe - The Party-Pooper - stood atop the table, kicking paper cups and nearing the fantastically decorated cake. The door that the children had escaped through lay nearly off its hinges on the other side of the room.\n\nI sighed, launching into the age old spiel “Why Party-Pooper!? Why would you ruin another party!”.\n\nHer insane laughter wasn’t an unusual response. The small wince of pain behind her ruined-mascara makeup was though.\n\nI paused, struck by the small amount of emotion showing through. “Are you not happy?” I asked, watching her haughty features belie something deeper. “Oh”, I simply said.\n\nI pulled the manacles apart. I was planning to do so when she neared to catch her off guard but this seemed as good a time as any. Grabbing a kids seat, I sat and looked up at her.\n\nHer face displayed more than a little rage, before being replaced with seething hatred, stubborn determination and finally simple sadness. She nudged at the cake with one toe of her trademarked pink cowboy boots.\n\n“Did you have birthday parties, when you were young?” She asked at long last. I nodded, heart sinking, seeing where this was going. Tears started to escape her eyes, making real lines through the cleverly applied ruined-mascara effect.\n\n“I...” she started, words stunted by a little hiccup. “I... didn’t”.",
"He lay tied within an electrical contraption in the middle of the room. His nemesis stood feet from his immobilized self, displaying upon his face a gloating and pleased smile.\n\"Mwahahahaha! I have caught you at last, once again, Power-Man! And I will now tell you what I plan to do with you, and then the world!\"\nPower Man laid in the contraption. He had been in this situation multiple times. Too many times, for his own good. But he decided to play along, a little, as he always did.\n\"Oh no, Sinistrovich! You have caught me with your dastardly ways. How am I ever to escape?\"\nWhile he was putting on this show, Power Man had already untied himself. He attempted to be as subtle as possible, as he lowered the ropes from his wrists. \n\"Alright. Here's what's going to happen, Power Man! I will throw you into the ocean! And then-\"\n\"Take over the world?\"\n\"I was just getting to that-\"\nPower Man had used that opportunity to reach his hand through the energy field and grab the remote, deactivating it with relative ease.\n\"Hands...up?\"\nHe pointed his energy laser at Sinistrovich, who instead of his usual antics, had simply sat down and let out a great sigh.\n\"What's wrong?\"\nSinistrovich played with his thumbs rather unmenacingly.\n\"Well.....you always win. And I like when we face each other. You listen to everything I have to say.\"\n\"Well....I guess that's true.\"\nSinsitrovich sat down, and gave Power Man a strawberry tart.\n\"Here. Sorry for all the trouble.\"\nPower Man looked at the delicious tart, and took a big bite. He promptly fell down dead, as \"Sinistrovich\" removed his Sinistrovich mask.\n\"Well then, that was easier than I thought it would be.\"\nThe unmasked man, who called himself Baphomet, kicked Power Man's limp body. He proceeded to throw the tart out the window.\n\"Now, to dispose of Sinistrovich and of Power Man. What a tragic accident!\"\nHe whistled to himself merrily as he worked."
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[WP]On a dark desert highway, cool wind in your hair. Up ahead in the distance, you saw a shimmering light. You had to stop for the night. Then you lit up a candle and was shown the way. There were voices down the corridor, you heard them say: Welcome to the Hotel California.
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"You Can Check Out Anytime You Like, But You Can Never Leave\n\n\"Welcome.\"\n\n\"You mean, welcome to the Hotel California. All of these years and you still can't get the greeting right.\"\n\n\"Another one! Oooh, he's cute!\"\n\n\"Gorgeous. I wonder if we'll be able to keep him...\"\n\nA chorus of quiet, ghostly voices followed him down the corridor, and he gulped. He wondered if he was just imagining it, if it was all just a figment of his overtired imagination.\n\nIf he hadn't been almost out of gas, he wouldn't have stopped. But he had been driving all night, and was in desperate need of rest. This hotel, a crumbling and regal remnant of an older time, had been the only open establishment for miles, its neon lights casting a rainbow of colors across the night-blackened sand.\n\nThe hallway seemed to elongate and stretch like taffy, making him wonder if perhaps he'd pushed it too far. He was certain that after some sleep and some food, everything would be better again. He frowned, scrubbing a hand across his eyes in irritation. It was nearly three in the morning, and he needed to get it together. The voices seemed to follow him, quiet but persistent. He reached the door and slipped the key into the lock; it was an old-school, legit key, not one of those electronic cards you'd get at a regular Marriott.\n\nThis place was so weird, he thought as he turned the key and opened the door. It was almost as if it was stuck in the period in which it had been made, a portal unto itself. This feeling was further cemented by the room he entered into: all rusty orange shag carpeting, cheesy, shiny red velvet wallpaper, ugly plaid comforters. It was like a very drunk and angry interior designer had brainstormed all of the ugliest things you could put in a hotel room and put it all together, an ugly kind of joke.\n\nThe whispering wouldn't stop, but it had died down to the point that he barely heard it. And anyway, he was certain that it was just his mind playing tricks on him...\n\n\\*\\*\n\nWhen he awoke again, there was a knock on the door; he'd fallen asleep right on top of the blankets, without even taking off his shoes. His throat was dry, and his tongue was stuck to the roof of his mouth. He would've given anything for a drink, anything to parch his throat. The knock sounded again, more insistent this time.\n\n\"Give me just a second! I... I'm not decent!\" He dug through his duffel bag and pulled a shirt out of it, though it was wrinkled and dirty and smelled like the desert, wind and sand, then pulled it over his head. When he was sure that he looked okay, well, as well as he could, considering that he had just gotten up, he opened the door to a strange sight.\n\nAn old, wizened man stood at attention, like a soldier, next to a rolling cart, laden with covered dishes.\n\n\"Hello, sir. My employers felt that you might be hungry and insisted that you be brought food.\" He smiled, and the guest had to resist the urge to shudder.\n\nThe Butler, as he had been dubbed in the guest's mind, still tired and sluggish from his late night, was tall, and his skin was wrinkled and papery, with an unpleasant greenish tinge underneath. His teeth were sharp and pointed, as if they'd been filed that way. His clothes were years out of date, a suit complete with a red bow tie and sharp coattails. His fingers were long and spidery, with nails that had a bluish tint under them. He smelled of minty aftershave. But even with all that, his guest could help but back deeper into the room.\n\n\"I... That's very kind of you. But I'm actually not hungry. And I couldn't pay for all that. Thanks anyway.\" He tried to close the door in The Butler's face, but quicker than blinking, he caught the doorknob.\n\n\"Please, my employers insist you dine. After all, this is a hotel, and we wish to show you the best example of our hospitality.\"\n\nThe guest frowned, and he sighed, rubbing a hand over his neck. He felt his jaw beginning to clench, but he stopped himself. He didn't want to offend these people, not when he already had such a bad feeling about this place.\n\n\"Would it be all right if I showered and changed, and met you in the dining room? I was raised to eat at a table, even at such a... gorgeous establishment like this one.\"\n\n\"Very well, sir. I'm sure that my employers would love to meet you in a more formal setting also.\"\n\n\\*\\*\n\nAfter he showered and put on some clean clothes, in the form of a pair of torn jeans, a gray muscle shirt, and a black leather jacket with colorful skulls embroidered on the back of it, completing the look with steel-toed boots, he dug through his bag and retrieved his switchblade; he wasn't sure exactly why, but this place gave him the creeps.\n\nHe tucked the weapon into the cuff of his jacket, his spine tingling with unease. Sweat formed on his brow and dripped down his face, and he frowned. This heat seemed to seep into everything, stealing what little energy he had left. He wished that he hadn't agreed to this meal; something in his gut told him that he'd just signed up for something huge, and he hadn't yet seen the consequences.\n\n\\*\\*\n\nAt last, he reached what looked to be the old ballroom; the room was all bright gold wallpaper, adorned with summer fruit, and the floor tiles of the palest rose gold. In the center of it sat a long wooden table, set for many, surely more than there were in the hotel. But there was a couple sitting at the head of it, and The Butler hovered by the door. When he spotted his guest, he smiled, then turned to look back at his employers.\n\n\"Please, come sit,\" He invited. \"My employers are most eager to meet you. We haven't had many guests recently.\"\n\nThe man could hardly imagine why, haunted as the building seemed to be. Full of history and more than a few ghosts. He had already begun to regret stopping in this place. But those regrets evaporated almost instantly upon seeing his hosts.\n\nThey were obviously a couple, a man and woman seated side by side. They were a study in contrasts, and soon the man had forgotten about the meal, so consumed was he in studying them. He couldn't quite put his finger on it, but there was something about this pair that set him on edge and begged closer inspection, all at the same time.\n\n\"We've heard much about you from our faithful servant, young man.\" The woman spoke first, a seductive purr that sent chills skittering up and down his spine. She was lovely, exquisite, and under the table, he felt his fingers twitching with the urge to touch her. Her skin was smooth and dark, reminding him of the night sky, with a subtle glimmer like the stars, and her eyes were a warm, honeyed amber, lit with a fire that he couldn't decide was malice or excitement.\n\n\"But you must be famished. Please, eat. And then you can answer our questions.\"\n\nHer companion, on the other hand, frowned, arms crossed, his chair pushed back from the table, his long legs on the table. His skin was so pale that it looked as if he were formed from moonlight itself, his eyes like two chips of ice, this skin adorned with colorful tattoos, even on his face, curling like smoke onto his cheeks and climbing up onto his forehead. His jaw was clenched, and his eyes darted between their guest and his companion, twitching as though he could barely stand to stay still.\n\nAs if by magic, food appeared on covered dishes, releasing the most enticing, mouthwatering scents. He was so very hungry. What was the harm in accepting? \"I... I don't feel comfortable eating in front of people,\" He lied, his gut roiling with warning. \"Why don't my kind hosts join me?\" He offered, though every instinct inside of him was screaming to abandon this meal, to turn tail and run while he still could. But he had a feeling that it was far too late for that now.\"\n\nWe aren't much for eating big meals,\" The man countered, his voice gruff and angry. \"We were kind enough to give you this feast. It would be rude to refuse.\"\"Don't be rude to our guest.\" The woman replied, and put a glass of wine in front of him, smiling. \"You've nothing to fear. Not even my brother here. You were on the road all night, were you not? Even something small would help.\"\n\nResigning himself to his fate, he lifted the cover to one of the dishes that had appeared in front of him. It was laden with bright, ripe peaches, and just the smell made his mouth water. He took one, and lifted the fruit to his lips, ignoring the way his stomach knotted up as he did so. He bit into it, the warm juice dripping down his chin.\n\nThe siblings smiled, first at each other, then at the man who had unwittingly become their prisoner."
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[WP] During the Purge, you are head of a private army hired by a pharmaceutical company to literally kill the competition.
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"\"How far are you willing to go?\"\nWhile David Marshall sat at dinner with his prospective employer, he was asked this question. He wrapped a piece of linguine around his fork, and pondered the question.\n\n\"Far enough. I can...do things, with little consequences. I feel it's easy to make other people do these things, whether they like it or not. This isn't the first time I've had an assignment like this. Certainly the first time..on this sort of scale.\"\n\nHe pressed the fork against his lips, and swallowed the entangled piece of pasta. He chewed slowly, while he watched the other man's reaction. It was a blank slate, little emotion. \n\n\"I have the resources. I worked with the Black Hawks for 15 years, and I was instrumental in at least 8 successful operations. Each of these had high damage rates, and in 5 out of 8 cases we were able to put a complete stop to the works of target organizations. I am physically trained, as are my men. We have battalion stations all over the city. The Purge simply allows us to do our job without too many legal obligations.\"\n\nThe other man looked at Marshall intently.\n\n\"It is not about the...legal obligations, for me. It is about the interest you show, both in being hired for a relatively minor situation compared to what you are used to, as well as the actual act of killing. Tomorrow's Purge allows the freaks and maniacs to come out of their shells and do what they like best- hurt, maim, kill. Mist civilians enjoy staying in a defending themselves against the onslaught. Many are in it for the many, as petty looters and thieves. You...are different. You are akin to hired terrorists. I want to know if you have the mental composition to go through with what is essentially a massacre.\"\n\nMarshall smiled, and took a sip of the orange juice he had ordered. No alcohol for him, especially the day before a job.\n\n\"Nothing is \"too minor\" for me, as long as my men and I get paid richly. With all due respect, Mr. Lancefield, I've killed hundreds before. This is nothing different. Lives are like paper dolls. Flimsy, and to be thrown away. I think the same about my own life. But the difference is that I am a paper doll that sees no harm in giving paper cuts to its handlers. And I relish every...drop...of...blood.\"\n\nLancefield was impressed. He finished devouring another piece of pumpkin ravioli, and beckoned to the industrial bag by Marshall's side.\n\n\"I accept your terms. You and your men will indeed be paid richly. Now, I have been informed that you have created a blueprint for tomorrow. Is this true?\"\n\nMarshall retrieved a large piece of industrial strength paper from the bag. He moved the plates to one side and spread it across the table as best he could.\n\n\"It's organized chaos, Mr. Lancefield. The heads of all six of your biggest competitors in the pharmaceutical industry will be at home, with heavy duty security systems. I have recently come into possession of powerful and dangerous Huang-Shi explosives. Very dangerous. Especially when paired up with some sort of heat. Each of the homes of the heads of your competitors were visited earlier today by a heater inspector, who planted the Huang-Shi there. It was \"mandatory\", and we have forged government documents to prove it. As you can see, the plan is in effect. All we have to do is wait until the Purge begins. Then, they all go boom. No legal issues.\"\n\nLancefield was doubly impressed. Before these people were even officially hired they put into action this prospective plan. His black market operatives were correct to point him towards this personal army.\n\n\"I think we should toast to that!\"\n\nLancefield raised his glass. Marshall smiled.\n\n\"Yes. To....paper dolls.\"\n\nThey toasted, as the Purge drew closer."
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[WP] Your father went insane trying to prove that it was possible to bridge the gap between two dimensions using a room full of mirrors. You find a mistake in his math and decide to test his theory. At first you think nothing happened, that is until you LITERALLY start talking to yourself...
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"My father used to say that talking to yourself wasn’t the first sign of insanity. On the contrary, in fact. He’d always say it was the first sign of a genius.\n\nOf course, he was crazy, or so everybody said. A mad scientist. \n\nA goddamn genius.\n\nOh, how I hated that word.\n\nHe’d spend weeks in a row down in his laboratory, trying to prove another one of his insane ideas. I used to resent him for it, you know. There were countless times when Rosy and I just needed a father to play ball with, or a figure in our life to tell us everything would be okay, and that all we needed to focus on was our next tub of ice cream. \n\nBut, no.\n\nIt was always me.\n\nI learned to cook at the tender age of 8. I learned how to change Rosy’s diapers, and I learned how to take care of the house. Maybe it’s because I was forced to mature so quickly, or maybe it was just my father’s blood running in my veins, but school was always the easiest time of the day for me.\n\nThere, I could relax.\n\nMy only companions were the numbers in my head, and the equations that they formed. A cathartic break from life at home. High school at ten years old, and college, at fourteen.\n\nThe teachers called me a genius, just like my father before me, and his father before him.\n\nAnd each and every single time, I’d frown.\n\nI never wanted to be a genius.\n\nI never wanted to be like him.\n\nFor what good is it to be a genius when you neglect your own children? And for what good is it to see things beyond other people’s wildest dreams when you’re blind to what’s most important, right in front of you?\n\nNo, I never wanted to be like my father.\n\nCall me resentful.\n\nPetty, even.\n\nBut I didn’t even go to his funeral.\n\nRosy had told me not many people were there. Just a few colleagues that he still kept in touch with, and the town’s local grocer. I had scoffed, expecting nothing less.\n\nWe had gone on with our separate lives then, leaving the past to wither away with memories grayer than I cared to remember. Rosy had bloomed into a bright young lady, and I had walked her down the aisle on her wedding day. She and her husband, both high school teachers, enjoyed a nice, quiet life in the countryside.\n\nI, on the other hand, pushed myself into research.\n\nTheoretical physics, to be specific.\n\nNumbers always made sense to me, and they were a constant in my life that none could replace. Funnily enough, it was exactly what good old Dad studied. However, where he was bound by his insanity and the limits of his imagination, I wasn’t.\n\nIn a few short years, I had become the foremost name in theoretical quantum physics.\n\nAn achievement, I guess.\n\n“He’s just like his father.” People would say. “They say he’s quite mad, but brilliant nonetheless. A genius!”\n\nOh, how I hated that word.\n\nHowever, and to my secret shame, they were right.\n\nI had become a recluse.\n\nRosy would beg me to go on vacation with her and her family, and colleagues would invite me out to bars and parties and the like. However, nothing held the same appeal to me as a quiet night to myself, pouring over old numbers and new equation. In fact, it had come to the point where I even started flipping through some of Dad’s old research journals. \n\nThey were right about this too, in a way.\n\nHe was a fucking genius.\n\nMirror dimensions, theoretical bridging. The notes that he jotted down and the ideas that ran rampant throughout his last days were a mess, but so much like mine that it was almost scary. Sometimes, it was even hard to distinct between our two handwritings.\n\nOne moonless night though, I was pouring over his notes and mine, comparing our ideas about the possibilities of dimension bridging using the reflection of mirrors when suddenly, I noticed a small, mathematical mistake on his side.\n\nA simple arithmetic error.\n\nFrowning, I corrected it absentmindedly, and moved on. At this stage of the game, there was no room for mistakes. No excuses for errors.\n\nFinally, I took the pages from the desk and walked down the stairs to the laboratory. A basement, underneath my own house.\n\nDays before, I had set up a roomful of mirrors for the pending experiment. If this worked, I’d be the first person to crack inter-dimensional bridging. It would be the achievement of a life time, and maybe, just maybe, I’d finally be able to step out from underneath my dad’s shadow.\n\nPunching numbers into the oscillating power machine, I calibrated the right amount of energy needed to form a bridge, and watched with a baited breath as the machine thrummed to life.\n\nA low humming whirled as bright blue energy burst to life between two mirrors on opposite sides of the room.\n\nI watched silently, nails digging bright red welts in the palms of my hands.\n\nSuddenly, the air between the two mirrors fractured.\n\nIt started out as a single crack in reality. Then two, and then three. Until the entire room became a bridge between our dimension and the next.\n\nA hole in the space- time continuum.\n\n“I- I did it...” I gasped in awe as I looked around. Thin shards of glass floated in the air like an intangible barrier in front of me. “I really did it.”\n\nTaking a deep breath, I stepped through hesitantly.\n\nThat’s when I met you.\n\n“Hello.” You greeted politely. \n\nI could only gape in awe.\n\n“Er- uh-“ Nonsensical sounds gurgled out of my mouth as I tried desperately to understand what I was seeing. \n\n“A bit shocking, isn’t it?” You continued on like nothing happened. “This is the fourth dimension, where time doesn’t exist, and reality isn’t as we perceive it to be.”\n\n“You’re- you’re-“ I struggled out. \n\n“Yes.” You smiled thinly. “I’m you.”\n\n“So,” I took a moment to gather my thoughts.” So, I did it then. I really did it.”\n\nYou only nodded.\n\nA fierce smile lit up my features as I grinned in triumph. The culmination of years and years of work. “I- I did it. I- I can’t believe I did it! I’m a- I’m a-“\n\n“Genius?” You supplied quietly.\n\nI stilled.\n\nYou smiled mockingly at me.\n\nSomething bitter stained the air.\n\n“Or are you just insane?”\n\nEdit: If you liked my story, you can read more at r/DreamingOrion. I’m doing a story a day for 365 days :) x\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n",
"The perfect sphere was all it took. That was what made it so difficult. Not just getting the room to be a perfect sphere, but to create and install a flawless perfect mirror. Just getting this far had almost driven James as mad as his father. The difference was he knew the error in his father’s formula, he knew how to bridge the unseen barrier, the gap between two or more universe. \nThe sphere was the size a small car. Now he had to build the container to hold it and prevent it from being broken. He could test it now, but at the risk of breaking the key component of the experiment. That would be unacceptable, for many reasons, the most important was the fact that he had sunk in most of his family’s wealth into the creation of this mirror sphere. The rest would be spent for the container to hold the sphere, it would be only six more weeks and he could prove his father’s theories were right. \n \n\nJames pulled up. The headlights of his practical vehicle, a small white pickup truck, illuminated the small warehouse where the experiment would be conducted. The sun was just cresting the horizon. He stepped out of his truck, closing the door behind him. It felt like it was going to be a hot day As he walked to the warehouse he locked his truck with the alarm button. Then switched which key he was holding till he had the one to open the warehouse in his hand. He let himself in, locking the door behind him. \nIf he was going to do this right he only had a few hours to successfully test his father’s theory. Well technically he had all the time in the world for that part, but his publicist had everything ready for the news and other talk shows lined up for when his experiment proved the theory. He would be famous like his father before the breakdown. Before the poorly constructed chiliagon, stole his sanity. \nHe walked up to the prepping station and pulled out the go pro he had purchased to collect video evidence. Securing it to a head band he started the recording. \n“I’m James Deprave, and today you are joining me as we make history!” he said as he stepped up the stairs to the entrance to the sphere. He revealed it by lifting up a small hatch. It was a small hole, barely big enough for him to slip in. He managed to slip in, holding a small electric lantern up. It would be dark in there when he closed the hatch. \nAs he slipped in he could see himself holding the electric lantern everywhere he looked. He turned around and reached out of the sphere mirror and pulled the hatch closed. He could just make out the seam for the hatch from the light cast by his lantern. It was quiet as he stood there looking around, seeing only an infinite reflection where ever he looked. \n“So we have entered the sphere and nothing has happened yet.” He said narrating what was happening for the video evidence. Nothing moved in sight except him. His left hand twitched by his side twitched and every reflection’s hands twitched as well. He stepped forward and felt the sphere turn a little. That was one of the requirements; the sphere had to be free to roll, free to tangle up the different dimensional strings. He knew that outside of his mirrored enclosure there were rollers to allow the structure to spin without moving. \nHe started jogging one way then turned slightly to change the direction of the spin. He curved his jog, so the universal strings would start to get tangled. There was no change what he could see, his reflections. \nAfter fifteen minutes of jogging James was out of breath. “The universal strings…” he slowed losing his footing as the sphere kept spinning, he landed slightly on his knee and pressed his free hand out. The sphere did one rotation, where he managed to hold himself steady, before it mostly stopped spinning. He continued, “…that my father had always talked about should be fully tangled up now.” \nJames looked around the sphere still only seeing his own reflection. “The math proves there has to be a change here.” He spoke out of frustration. Seeing nothing different about any of the reflections he could see. “I just can’t believe it didn’t work.” \n“I know after all the work I did to create this.” James saw his reflections mouth moving when he did not speak. His slightly slicked with sweat dark hair bobbing as he worked on gathering his breath. \n“Can you hear me?” he asked cautiously. \n“Yeah and I can...” Was the echoed reply that he partially heard. Though this time the reflection did not do anything different then he was doing. \nIt might have been his mind playing tricks on him. No it had to be something. He got up and leaned to the curved wall and touched it. It was solid. He spent the next twenty minutes trying to locate the hatch. After that he opened it and slipped out of the mirrored sphere. Something had happened, what he wasn’t sure but something. \nHe pulled the go pro out and walked to the small workspace he had. He sat down at his computer, with one hand he moved his mouse to wake up the computer, and with the other one he pulled the sd card out of the small camera he had worn around his head. The sign in screen was different than last time he had logged on. You typed in his user name and password. And the computer did not accept it. He tried again, and it denied him again. That was his password, and that was his username. He pushed the seat back in frustration and stood up. Sd card in hand he strolled to the window and looked out. The ground was covered by a light layer of snow, sitting there where his white pickup had been parked was a sports car, with only a little snow covering it. His fingers opened slightly and the sd card slipped from his fingers falling to the floor."
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[WP] You finally decided to clean out that closet you can't possibly stuff anything else in. Working through it, you come to a large duffel bag in the back corner. When you unzip it you see a perfectly preserved dead clone of you.
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"“What the fu..”\n\n*SLAM.*\n\n The bedroom door hitting the doorstop reverberated through the boards and into my knees, bare on the floor. I turned to face him, and there he stood. \n\n “What do you think you’re doing up here?” I closed the door behind me as slow as possible, as not to cause alarm. “I asked you to stay downstairs.”\n\n “But I’m HUNGRY!” My 4 year old son stood as tall as he could and smacked his naked belly.\n\n “Owen?” Karen, my wife, called from downstairs. “Where are you? Your Mac and cheese is getting cold!”\n\n “Now, you see?” I knelt down on one knee and put a hand on his shoulder. He seems to respond well when I kneel. “Go see what your mother has prepared for you.”\n\n Owen scurried off without another word. His long, blonde locks bounced off his shoulders like a curtain falling onto a stage. It made me wonder how it felt to have a normal life. \n\n Anything can become normal. All it takes is careful planning and conditioning. That’s the first thing they teach you upon arrival. \n\n For example, I have a proper 39 point (give or take) weekly plan. Points 1-14 are all normal things. Leaving the house for work, always checking the mail late, and never leaving the house without my wallet. All the other conditions are ways to cover my tracks.\n\nIt’s not easy collecting bounty’s, but hey, someone has to do it.\n\nTo be continued... \n\n",
"You immediately freak out, dart out of your closet and fall back onto your bed. You lie still and ask yourself, am I still high from the the weed brownie I ate last night? You reason through it, even if you were high weed hasn't caused hallucinations like this. How do you make sense of what you saw? It doesn't make sense...you go back, grabbing a ruler off your desk. You poke the \"body\" and it kind of jiggles, reminding you of ballistic gel. You get curious and try to think how this makes sense, you are still high, wow. You decide to call the only person you know that remotely knows anything about ballistic gel, your ex. No answer. But it makes sense now, you pull out your phone again and start texting: \n\n\n\"look, i know it was you...you left a 'clone' or dummy to look like me made of ballistics gel just to mess with me! I can't believe you used so much material & makeup and all your special effects skills from work just for a jump scare from me.....i get it, things ended badly between us but COME ON this is totally crazy! why would you go through all this effort...NOT COOL!\"\n\n\"And another thing...how the hell and when did you get into my closet....i can't believe you had other people involved to help you with this elaborate joke\"\n\nA long time goes by...no response. Well at least you figured out what was going on. Eventually you hear a 'ding on your phone'\n\n\"*wth r u talking about?* *r u high?* *u r the one who sounds crazy. don't contact me again\"*",
"I stared in disbelief at the contents of the large black duffel that I had just retrieved from my closet. What I had previously thought contained my wrestling gear now held a lifeless body that looked exactly like me. Its face was contorted with agony, as though it were in tremendous pain. As my gaze ran down its body, I saw a large stab wound on its chest. Blood slowly dripped down the torso of the corpse.\nI heard a noise behind me. I turned around just in time to see my clone rush forward with a knife in hand. I felt it pierce my heart, and I fell backwards into the now empty duffel.",
"\t“This must be a dream”, I say to myself. “I need to wake up NOW.”\n\tI slap myself. I pinch myself. I do everything to jump out of this dream, but nothing works. Soon my thoughts are flooded with fear as I realize I may not be dreaming. But how could this not be a dream, I am staring at my own corpse. Reality begins to set in. My corpse, in a bag, in my closet. My mind doesn’t know how to make sense of it.\n\t“I see you found the gift I left for you” says a voice from behind me. I turn to see an old man in the doorway. The old man was my height and balding, with a beard and glasses. He wore a long white lab coat and held a clipboard in his right hand. “I’m sure you have many questions, young man. I would like for you to come with me.”\n\t“Who are you? What is the meaning of this?” I ask shakily. “What is this thing in my closet?”\n\t“It is you, my child. It is me.” He says in a tired tone. “Please just come with me.”\n\t“Am I dead?”\n\t“Far from it, my dear boy. Your life is just beginning. Now come.”\n\tHesitantly, I walk toward the man. The closer I get to him, the more I realize he looks just like my father, only older. We leave the bedroom and walk through a hallway I don’t recognize.\n\t“Where are we going?” I ask.\n\tHe ignores me and we walk through the door at the end of the hallway. As the door opens, I am blinded by a bright, white light. After my eyes settle, I see that we are in what appears to be a very advanced scientific lab. To my surprise, there are many other workers there, and all of them have one thing in common. They are me. \n\t“What is this place?” I asked, completely awestruck. “Who are these people.”\n\t“They’re you, my boy.” He says coyly. “Now come, we have to perform some medical tests on you.”\n\t“What do you mean they’re me? Where are we?”\n\t“We’re in my lab. Surely you must’ve realized by now, you’re a clone my boy, just like the rest of them. Now I know you have many questions, but I need you to come with me.”\n\tI follow him through the lab. As we walk, the clones begin to turn their attention to me and begin whispering among themselves. Their gaze is that of curiosity and wonder. Soon, we find ourselves in a small room and the old man performs a physical on me. \n\t“Excellent. A perfect physical specimen.” He says excitedly. “Now to tell you why you’re here.”\n\tThe old man sighs and begins to pace across the room. \n\t“You see my boy, this is a very special lab. A lab where we make the men who guides society. We’ve done this from behind the scenes for millennia now. You were made in this lab. You are a special clone who has had all your physical and mental faculties augmented far beyond that of a normal clone. You are the clone that will be sent into the world to guide it.”\n\t“What are you talking about? What about my memories?”\n\t“Those memories were implanted into you, to prepare you for the world. In order to guide the humans, you have to be one. You have to understand them.”\n\tMy world crashes as he tells me this. All 25 years of my life have been a lie. My achievements, my victories, my loves and losses, all a lie. My parents, my friends, my schools, my jobs, all of it meaning nothing.\n\t“Now I’m sure you’re in shock, my boy, but this is an extremely important mission.” the old man says calmly. “We only perform these operations every few centuries. You still need some training before we send you out.”\n\t“Who are you exactly?” I ask, my frustration building.\n\t“I told you. I am you. We are the same. I will be the one who trains you to go into the world.”\n\t“I don’t care about the world. You destroyed my world!”\n\t“You needed that to understand loss. This will all make sense one day. Now take some rest, this is a lot to take in.”\n\tThe old man guides me back to the bedroom I woke up in. The corpse of the clone was still hanging out of the closet.\n\t“Why did you put a corpse of me in my closet?” I ask, bewildered.\n\t“It was a joke my boy. My predecessor did the same to me.”\n\t“A Joke!? What kind of joke is that? And what do you mean your predecessor?”\n\t“I was the previous version of us that went out into the world, 257 years ago. Believe it or not, my biggest job was getting a billionaire, reality tv show star to become the leader of the world’s strongest nation at the time.”\n\t“That’s completely bizarre. Wasn’t there anyone better able to lead a country at that time”\n\t“That is still hotly debated. But, you’ll come to find that sometimes we need chaos over order. My predecessor helped found that nation oddly enough, told me he didn’t envy my job. Anyway, you should go to bed now.”\n\t“Hold on, I have one more question. Where is the original version of us?”\n\t“That’s a great question, my boy. But I don’t know, I’ve never met him. My predecessor’s predecessor seems to think he lives somewhere in space.”\n\t“Oh, ok then.”\n\t“Now rest, your training begins tomorrow.”\n\tThe old man leaves me alone in my room, the corpse still sitting in the closet. So many thoughts run through my mind, my whole world had changed in an instant. I’m still in shock about the whole situation. I’ve always wanted to be important in life, but this wasn’t quite what I had in mind. I lay my head on my pillow and soon begin dreaming of my old world. \n\t\n",
"I looked at the dead body in the bag. *My* dead body. I poked it gently, praying it wouldn’t suddenly awaken. It was cold, and soft- I had the grim thought that it was nearing decomposition time, and wondered what to do.\n\n“Fuck it. Imma just bury this sorry sumbitch and drink this memory away.”\n\nI never was one for superstitions, or caring about things that are out of my power. Like Sherlock-ing a dead me.\n\n*Fourteen hours later*\n\nI awoke, head pounding from my hangover. I rolled over groggily, slamming the snooze button on my alarm with my hand. I got out of bed and took a shower, with what felt like an orchestra of drums inside my head. After I had dried myself off, I returned to my room and opened my closet, hunting for clothes for the day. I noticed a bag on the floor of my closet, but couldn’t remember how it got there.\n\n“The fuck is this?” I muttered to myself, no answer coming to me. I shrugged, deciding to open it and find out. A faint voice in the back of my head told me it might be a bomb. I ignored the voice, and unzipped the duffel bag.\n\n“WHAT THE FUCK?!” I yelled, falling backwards onto my ass.\n\nInside the bag was a body- *my* body- and its eyes were open, staring back at me.",
"I started hauling out clothes that I still had from the third grade, a bloody knife, and some fingers along with it. How was I able to forget these old tools and trophies of mine. The memories are just coming back to me. The school teacher, the bully, the ex-friend—they all deserved to die, but it is fun looking back on those times. As I pulled out the jar of decaying fingers, I noticed a duffel bag was hiding away from me. Nothing can get past my sight. If I recall correctly though, I never used something so professional like a duffel bag, strange. Hauling out the large bag and unzipping it, I was greeted by myself. Everything was the same. She looked exactly like me. Her hair was smooth and silver with her body tone was magnificent. I wondered how I tasted? Firing up the barbecue and the chainsaw, I got to work and prepared my dinner. A calf, a bicep, and maybe a few fingers—it all sounds . . . delicious. My mouth watered as the skin boiled off my pristine muscles. Drool started to escape my mouth as I waited for the perfect dinner. I was done barbecuing. There was some much to eat that I treated it like a smorgasbord. It was soo good. The calves were really where the best meat was. Luckily, I still had more left over for another day. Maybe some brain or liver next time.",
"You get used to a lot of things on the space station. The weightlessness, the loneliness, the pervading sense of peace every time you looked out the silicate windows down onto Nimea… even the three minutes on average it takes for messages to be transmitted to the nearest base station. My daily updates are fired off one-way, so there’s no need to wait around. For the live transmissions, I had a tablet permanently docked at the console to help me while away the time as I waited for the next question or answer. Most days, that helped keep me in a good mood.\n\nBut not today.\n\nToday, the interval between messages was *excruciating*.\n\n“Stop asking me all these stupid questions!” I said, as I pounded the console. It didn’t make the signals go any faster, but it was the salve for the anger burning inside me. “Are you even hearing what I have to say? Alison, was it? For goodness sakes, get someone else with half a brain on the line! Get Captain Myers! I want someone to give me proper guidance, or I swear, I’m going to activate the failsafe and shut this whole station down! I mean it!”\n\nI waited. It was silent throughout the station. I had turned off the ambient music, and even set the maintenance androids on standby so that I wouldn’t have to hear their incessant whirring. Climate control indicators confirmed that the temperature was correctly set, but the streams of sweat running down my back disagreed.\n\nThe speakers crackled to life as Alison’s response from base station trickled in. \n\n“Dr Harry Torsten, I repeat, we hear you and we are aware of your situation. Emergency pods *have* been dispatched to your location. We are concerned for your welfare, so please answer us as best you can. We are trying our best to ensure that you are safe. When you are calm again, please inform us of the following: are there any lesions on your skin? Is your memory functioning as per normal? Can you give us a glucose reading?”\n\n“No! There are no lesions on my skin! I am unhurt! I repeat, I’m *not* the one who is hurt! Yes, my memory is working just fine! Was I not clear when I recounted to you what I discovered in my bunk? And yes, my glucose levels are a bit on the low side, because I was about to have breakfast *when I was interrupted by my discovery of my dead body!* Is that good enough for you?” \n\nMy right fist struck the tablet so hard that it crashed to the floor. They just didn’t get the severity of the situation. What did any of this have to do with my emergency? Why couldn’t they give me any useful advice at all? The electronic archives on the Panopticon were comprehensive, and I had been told that the entirety of mankind’s knowledge had been uploaded onto the diamonite-drives on the station. A thousand protocols had been designed to help me cope with any situation I could possibly encounter up here. Yet, thorough as they were, not a single one of them contained any advice on how to deal with finding a dead clone of yourself.\n\nThat was what it had to be. The resemblance was one thing, but the scarring? The unevenness of my (his) left arm where the break had not healed properly all those years ago? Even the tiny tattoo behind my left ear, the everlasting memento I had taken away from Ibiza? The body I had found at the back of my closet was an exact copy of me. The only difference between us, was that I was alive.\n\n“Please, Dr Torsten. Harry. Stay in control. Now tell us, where is the body you found? Where is its current location? Are you sure that it was inanimate? How long ago was that? Did you run it through the medical scanners?”\n\n“Don’t tell me to calm down! You’re not the one out here! I’ve placed it in the med chamber, and yes I’m damn sure it’s dead! The scanners confirmed that it was me, and I had to override it before it sent you the report that I had died! How long ago? What does it matter? I came here straight to tell you about it!”\n\n“Thank you. Captain Myers has been informed, and we are convening a task force to help you through this. Can you please confirm the following while we evaluate your options – has there been any breach into the Panopticon? What are the bacterial readings in the station? Did the energy radars detect any heightened pulses in the last twelve hours?”\n\nI sighed. The idiots would have me doing this all day. “No, no breach. I just checked, the hull holds strong. Bacterial levels are negligible, and there have not been any-” \n\nThe console lights flashed right in the middle of my sentence, and the speakers buzzed again. That was strange. It was standard protocol for one party to complete their transmissions before the other replied. They should have waited until they completely received my message before they spoke again. Either a malfunction, or someone must have accidentally triggered the transmission protocols. Captain Myers’ disembodied voice floated through and filled the room.\n\n“… that we still don’t know how they appear? This is the sixth incident, gentlemen! The sixth time it has happened, and we are nowhere closer to finding out how or why it happens? Well, it’s not magic, I can tell you that! Run all the damn tests you need! Find out how Harry keeps cloning himself, find out what triggers them back to life, and for bloody hell’s sake, please find out what turns them hostile towards each other? The last thing we need is… Alison! Alison Briggs! Are you bloody pressing… get her damn hand away from the-”\n\nThe transmission cut off, and the console fell dark and silent again.\n\nI looked out the window at Nimea, that lush-green wonder I had been sent here to study. That inexplicable anomaly in the universe which, despite the hostility of its environment, was home to no less than a thousand different species. I had not had time to file my report, but my latest observations had confirmed that life on the planet was marked by long periods of peace, followed by sharp, violent bursts of aggression. Then, when it seemed that life would wipe itself out, it would flourish again, in a never-ending cycle.\n\nFrom a couple of rooms away, I heard a tiny *ding* as the medical scanners flared to life. They only ever activated when there was a subject for them to work on.\n\n“Crap,” I heard myself say.\n\n--- \n\n/r/rarelyfunny\n",
"\"Hi, that what will be me.\"\n\nI said, pulled the bag in the middle of the room and let it sit there, open and bare to the world. There I was, sleeping in the middle of the room, lifeless yet, beingless yet. The me that was still walking grabbed a chair and pulled it right next to the man in the bag and sat down.\n\n\"I never thought that it will come to this. Then again, I did buy you, didn't I? What a miserable day that was. And yet, I did not throw you out after all. I guess I always thought that it will come to this.\" \n\n200 000$. That might seem much for something you will never actually use. But I suspect it's worth every penny for what it does. The company is named \"Second Choice\". You basically buy an electronic clone of yourself to... Well, that depends completely from you. You turn it on, you set it's actions and let it lose. It completes the programmed functions and then returns to you. People use them to appear in social functions they don't want to be or to leave with your wife when you are traveling. So that she doesn't get lonely is all. All of them are registered and labeled, so you can't rob banks this way, you'll be caught in an instant. And that doesn't matter to me. Getting caught is not in my plan at all.\n\n\"I must apologize for what is going to happen to you. I don't know how much you feel, but I sure hope you feel less than I do.\" I leaned down and held my thumbprints at the lifeless man's eyes. They opened, first black, then deciding on colour. It looked at me and was ready to receive instructions. \"And that is why you are going on a trip.\"\n\nThe trip is to Brazil. We arrive in Rio Di Janeiro airport. Then the plane goes to Goiania in the province of the same name. Then it's a long bus drive to the jungle. It will be insufferable, so good that I do not have to do it. And, when in the deepest jungle possible...\n\n\"That's when you walk, buddy. You just get out of the bus and walk. You walk north-east. Your mission? To find the deepest jungle there is. A place where no sane person would ever go. A place where there is no reception of any kind. No satellites, no settlements, no nothing. Nowhere. And then you walk for three more days. And then... Then you sit.\"\n\nAnd that was all the directives I had to give. It's as straightforward as it is. He crosses the border, he gets in a bus, he gets lost, he is MIA. Missing in Action, so to say. He is MIA and I am him. I already told about this trip to all my friends, I posted pictures in Facebook, I told my parents that I'll send postcards. I thought of asking the clone to send a postcard from me to my parents, but decided against it. Let it just stay that way.\n\nNow why am I doing this? Why buy a clone this expensive to just lose it in the jungle? The answer is as simple as the apartment that I'm in. He is my mask, my fort, the safe landing for everyone I know. That is how they will remember me. Always courageous, always adventurous. Getting lost in the jungle would be pretty characteristic to me. That's why it could not have been a desert or taiga. \n\nThe clone got up, it dressed autonomously, completely ignoring me. All the time I was sitting in the middle of the room on the chair he walked around while putting on deodorant and necktie. He grabbed the plane tickets, the suitcase and my only key, went outside and locked the door. \n\n\"Where are you going?\" I heard my neighbour asking my clone as they met at the door. \n\n\"Brazil!\" I laughed and answered in the hallway. \"I know, kind of unexpected, but I had this idea... I've never really seen the jungle and eh, time for something new! Oh, drats, sorry Jim, I really got to go. Plane and everything!\" And with a smile I rushed away. \n\nThere I go, brave me. Courageous me. Unstoppable me. ",
"I love digging through old drawers and closets. It's like a crash course in reminding yourself who you really are. Sometimes life happens so fast we just live through it and time passes and we forget where we've come from. Everything just piles up in the corners while we do our casual time surfing. But pull out an old notebook from when you were a teenager and start reading it and suddenly you'll be that teenager again. It's reassuring. \n\nI'd filled three garbage bags of Salvation Army donations and stacked five separate piles of old notebooks before I saw the duffel bag. It was leaned up against two of my old suitcases, back in the corner. \n\nI'd almost completely forgotten about it. \n\nI thought about leaving it be, but I unzipped it. Just one look. \n\nInside the duffel bag was a perfect copy of my 20 year old self, sleeping peacefully. My back-up. He was naked, knees drawn up to his chest and his face on his knees. Folded neatly for storage. Waiting to be used. \n\nI still remembered the suggestion from the techs at the cloning facility-- you're going to want to preserve your younger self, they'd told me. Live your life the way you want, but keep a back-up. Store in any temperature, and the body will be ready for you to use the second you lose interest with your original one. It cost as much as a new car, but I paid it off within the first four years. I literally brought him home after making the down payment. He came in this duffel bag. I unzipped it and looked in on him from year to year. But mostly he just sat in the closet, forgotten along with the rest of the stuff from that part of my life. \n\nI know people that change bodies once a freaking month. It's such a waste of resources. I keep this guy in here for emergency purposes, and also to give my own life a double once I get too old to function properly. With this technology, people used to stare down 80 years of life. Now you stare down 160 easy. So much time to do the things you want. So little stress. Enjoying every day, the little things, is that much easier. \n\nAs of now I don't think I'll be needing this fellow until I'm well into my 80's. \n\nI zipped up the duffel bag and went through a box of old toys. I found an old Godzilla koosh ball and was delighted. ",
"When I saw the duffel bag in the back corner of the closet, I breathed a long sigh. I had *almost* forgotten it existed.\n\nI pulled it to the forefront and unzipped the bag, staring down at the cooling cryopod where my preserved clone sat, suspended in liquid. He was dead, of course. He had died a long time ago.\n\nIn truth, the story of my life was far from simple. This clone was not a clone at all. It was me-- well, the real me. Of course. We're identical in every single way, but for one defining feature.\n\nI had a pretty good time growing up. Parents who loved me, highschool sweethearts who were head over heels for me, but none of them were quite as lovely or beautiful as Madison, the girl of my dreams. We'd met in college whilst I was studying physics. She, too, was on the same course. We shared a passion for the project. That passion stemmed far beyond our own professional courtesy. It didn't take long for our interests to span beyond our knowledge.\n\nWe were hopelessly in love. We dated through our college years until we both graduated with honors degrees. We even worked at the same company. Never date your colleagues, they said. There was no law against those you were dating before then. And it wasn't as if we were going to break up, either. Every day was like a honeymoon for us. Sure, there were stressful times, but we always had each other.\n\nThen, two became three. Yvonne. A sweet little bundle of joy we have created with our own love. I'd never seen anything more radiant than the sight of my beautiful girlfriend holding our daughter in her arms. She smiled at me. The smile I could never replace.\n\nGood things never last. I wish they did. We were happy for a time. 2 years of bliss we have with our darling daughter, before fate took them away from me. She was taking our daughter to nursery whilst I worked from home. A car veered on the road, a drunk driver. He barrelled into the both of them. Neither of them survived.\n\nI poured my heart into my work, unable to stop for even a second to deal with my grief. It was in my fits of agony and determination that I stumbled across something unseen before. When you applied a mixture of frequencies and a little bit of electro-magnetic energy, you could open a portal. I never told anyone about it. Hell, I didn't even think. In my need to forget about my loss and driven by curiosity, I had stepped through.\n\n \n\nI didn't know it at the time, but it was a parallel world, one so keenly identical to my own, almost in every respect. My home was the same. My clothes, my food. Everything. The only difference was that I was clearly not in the deepest pits of despair. Far from it. My girlfriend and child-- *his* girlfriend and child were still alive. Mine weren't.\n\nI saw him, pouring over notes like nothing had happened. I couldn't control myself. The anger took over, the grief consumed me. We fought. We were evenly matched, but he didn't have the hysterical strength I had. I overpowered him. The paperweight. It was over in a flash. Before I knew it, he was dead. I'd killed myself. Sort of.\n\nI knew I couldn't leave him there. Turns out the *other* me had been researching cryogenics whilst I'd been pouring my heart into parallel worlds. It was almost too good to be true. He'd stumbled across a revolutionary product, a portable cryo pod. I put his body in it. I stowed it away where it couldn't be seen. No-one would know. No-one.\n\n \n\nI stared down at the pod, gazing down at my own dead face, though it wasn't quite me. It'd been 4 years. It felt like it was my life.\n\nNo. It was my life. I deserved this. All the good deeds I'd done. I wanted her. She was mine. Not *his*. ***Mine.***\n\nThe handle turned on the door. I shoved the duffel bag to the back as the front door swung open. I smiled at the sight of her, Madison, and our daughter, Yvonne. I swung my daughter up into my arms and gave her a tight hug.\n\nThis was the life I deserved. I almost wish I hadn't had to kill myself to get it.\n\nBut we'd do anything for our loved ones, wouldn't we?"
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[WP] After trying to survive alone in the zombie apocalypse, you finally get scratched. But... it looks like being a zombie might not be so bad.
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"It was inevitable, I guess. I knew it would happen in the end. Just didn't know how exactly. A bite? A stampede? A sneaky grab? Hands clawing at me?\n\nDid not expect it from a scratch of an already dead zombie. \n\nAlmost a year of careful planning, though with a fair bit of sheer luck. Out the window. I had just returned to my hideout. An old convenience store that used to be run by this middle-aged Indian man. Whom I had to kill.\n\nThere were traps outside. Simple tripwire stuff. Two zombies had been caught in it. One was right by the entrance. Both were obviously dead. I had a just come from an unyielding foraging session and was tired, angry and hungry. I walked a little unsteadily past the dead zombie by the entrance, and accidentally brushed pass his stiff hand. His fingernails dug into my socks and cut my skin.\n\nI thought nothing of it, until minutes later. First I went up to the roof, to check on my cheap solar powered powerbanks. I had around 20 of those that I looted from a tech shop down the road. These ones got around 30% charge in the nine hours of proper sunlight. That's why I needed so many. I left the two I had with me and took two other ones. One would power my MP3. The other, my phone.\n\nJust in case the internet starts working again.\n\nI looked through the MP3, trying to find an album that could make the day go by quicker. And then the symptoms showed.\n\nAs I climbed down the stairs trying to get the earphones in my ear, everything went hazy. I tripped, and rolled down the rest of the way. My body was on fire, and the heat was radiating from one spot. I propped myself up and pulled my pants up and socks down.\n\nThe skin where I was scratched looked sickly. It was turning green and bloated. All my careful planning, my hideout, my set up. All for nothing. I crawled my way to a wall to lean on as tears welled up.\n\nI had to shoot my mom. I had to shoot my baby sister. To stop them from turning. There were no guns anymore. I had nothing to stop me. I could try throwing myself off the roof, but I doubt that would work. It was just 2 stories.\n\nI took the MP3, and found an album. Bowie. Rise and Fall of Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders from Mars. It was my dad's go to album. Something we listened to on quiet car rides. \n\nWe were both wired the same way, my dad and I. We were introverts. We didn't have the capacity for social interaction the way my mother and sister had. But we both spoke the same language in terms of music. Bowie was his favourite, and though I've never admitted it to him, he was also mine.\n\nWhen my dad came home that night, when zombies were just starting gain attention, we were glad. We were a family. We had to stick together. That was what my mom was saying when she hugged him. And he bit her. I saw it with my own eyes. My sister had screamed and pushed him away, and we drive him out of the house. He did not speak. His eyes were lifeless, and there was no recognition in them.\n\nThat was the last I saw of my old man. \n\nI coughed, and tastes blood. I pressed play.\n\nI never knew how my dad had turned. How had he known to come home? Did he still have some sort of awareness? Did he turn just as he came in? I'd like to think there was awareness. He knew what he was doing. Why he was there. It made no sense. But then again maybe it did.\n\nI think I might be going into shock. I sat there a minute more, and Moonage Daydream started playing. My dad's favourite song. Mine, too, if I'd admit. Maybe turning wouldn't be bad? My leg stopped radiating heat. I felt calmer. But my mind was still hazy. Bowie was telling someone to press their face close to his. Why? But my dad wouldn't have tried to bite my mom if he was aware, right? Why would he want to turn her? Why would anyone want to freak out at a 'mooanage daydream'?\n\nUnless he knew something we didn't? I was slipping into unconsciousness. But it was more welcoming than I thought. More blissful. Painless. I looked at my leg. The whole leg was turning green. The whole world. Did my dad want this? Was he right? Is this all ok? "
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[WP] Humanity is close to discovering immortality, but you, a 900 year old alchemist, want to keep the secret to yourself.
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"Nicholas Flamel didn't think of toppling humanity in night. He didn't.\n\nNicholas Flamel had been born in 1330, and lived as a bookseller and owned and ran two shops in Paris, France. He lived an ordinary life, until one day he bought a metal-bound book, in which the letters seemed to be in different languages and physically shifted.\n\nThe book? The secrets it held were wondrous.\n\nMagic, arcane spells, the ability to turn anything to gold. Immortality.\n\nHe had wandered the Earth since 1418, when he faked his death, looking for more and more wisdom. He didn't have plans for the wisdom yet, but he wanted it.\n\nHe had watched everything. Including the rest of humanity come close to their own form of immortality - an elaborate process involving slowing and stopping the deterioration of specific cells. Nicholas wouldn't lie, it was clever.\n\nBut immortality? It was his gift.\n\nYes, Nicholas didn't plan to topple humanity in a night.\n\nBut he did believe in being flexible.\n\n*****\n\nKilling was the last thing Nicholas wanted to do.\n\nIt started with the first scientist. A Dr. Roberto Musk, son of the leading space scientist. Nicholas held the mystical tome in one hand, and a ball of fire in the other.\n\nNicholas was kind enough. He made sure the death was quick.\n\nThen the second scientist. Frozen to death in a flash freeze.\n\nThird; forced heart attack.\n\nOver and over, until the top minds working on it were dead.\n\nKilling was the last thing Nicholas wanted to.\n\nBut what else could he have done?\n\n*****\n\nNicholas hated treason. Completely.\n\nAnd yet, here he was, sabotaging efforts of the French government from catching on to his eternal life.\n\nIt was more than evading, it was more.\n\nThen, once France was lost, Nicholas took on other countries in Europe. Then Africa, Asia, the Americas.\n\nNicholas had to be admit one thing about treason - it was exhilarating to not be caught.\n\n*****\n\nNicholas was surrounded by silence.\n\nDead silence.\n\nNo one left.\n\nAfter the murder of the top minds, the fall of the governments, the world fell into chaos. It had been two hundreds years before an otherwise stable species collapsed.\n\nNicholas was all that remained.\n\nHe pondered - what if he had done things different?\n\nBut that was the past.\n\nNicholas was surrounded by silence.\n\nHe welcomed it with open arms.",
"**On the news today, they said scientists at MIT have managed to control nanotechnology to sustain human life far longer than natural. In effect, they said, humans could become immortal by 2040. From what I heard they plan on using nanobots – tiny little machines that run through your body and repair organs, create new cells, and fight off diseases. “Human immortality is here, finally,” the lady said.**\n\n **Finally.**\n\n **It took them 900 years to catch up to me but, finally, they did it. I cannot allow this. I did not risk everything—my men, an entire fleet of ships, my sanity—for some fools playing God in a laboratory. No doubt they’ll see it as a gift, try to sell it on to the highest bidder, and think they have cheated death. Fools! You cannot cheat death. Trust me.**\n\n **I have seen mankind rip itself apart many times over, from the Spanish Armada to the U.S. Civil War, to both World Wars. The nanobots may be able to refresh and renew your organs and your cells but they cannot regenerate limbs. Whatever will they do with men with no arms, or legs, or eyes, or faces who do nothing but live forever.**\n\n **This gift, as they call it, is nothing but a curse. I wish I had never supped from that golden chalice. I curse the day I got on that ship and sailed to the jungles. I was but a boy then, a foolish boy. Like these scientists.**\n\n **I am begging you. Imploring you. Please do not tamper or toy with human mortality. That is the greatest gift. It allows us to live and run and love and and and and and and and and…**\n\n“Margaret!” The nurse calls to the other room.\n\n“Yes?”\n\n“His computer speech thing is acting up again!”\n\n“Just leave it! He’ll be fine laying there and watching the news.”\n\n\nThe nurse gets up from her chair, and switches the television off, “Try get some sleep, sir. You’ve been here a long time.” She leaves and closes the door.\n\n**and and and and. Who would want to be immortal and trapped for eternity in their body?**\n"
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Man as in Humanity, not one male human. Having a one-syllable word there just fits the ominous cadence so well, you know?
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[WP] There are some things Man was Not Meant to Know. One of them has become common knowledge.
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"We were never supposed to develop language. The powers that be knew the day that anything learned the forbidden knowledge, they were destined to destroy the planet and many others. When man did, it all went into damage control mode. Creating conflicting religion, plauge, and drought, all of it sent at us we survived and thrived due to our languages. Alas, now there is little those above can do for the planet. All they hope for, is a nuclear holocaust and with it a chance to start anew.",
"We are the chosen ones. \n\nThe ones who shall endure, when all is wiped clean. Because we are blessed with the knowledge given to us by the None, who stretched our minds to great limits. They gave us the information that we so cherish about the Great Computer, that creates the seeds of life, the codons of our ancestors. There is no God. No old men in the sky, who call upon bolts of lightning to smite pass their judgement. There is only the Great Computer. This we were allowed to know. It makes our race the chosen ones, among the Computer and its None Guardians. \n\nWe learned something that we were not meant to know. The location of the Great Computer. \n\nWe realized what people had meant, by Dark Matter and Dark Energy. The Great Computer was not a single entity. It was an energy, spread among the entire universe, as numerous as stars and atoms. \n\nAnd we learned that we were not only the chosen ones, but the destined ones. We were destined to destroy this great energy."
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[WP] Your child's claim to have an imaginary friend goes from cute to frightening when you begin to see an unfamiliar person in all of your family photos.
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"Is it time to get my eyes checked again? Am I going senile already? I don't remember Ben having any friends over for my anniversary party. \n\n\"Benjamin. Who is this? Her. Right there beside you.\" \n\n\"I already told you mom. Her name is Jacqueline and she really liked your dress that day, but thought it was too loose around your neck\"",
"His name's Jodie.\n\nThe guy in the pictures. He started as a silhouette, kind of a cross between a shadow and a lens flare. We'd see him in the pictures we snapped on our phones and there he'd be, this odd crescent of light, always near my daughter. Then he started taking shape.\n\nMy daughter, Stella, saw Jodie for the first time when she was just over two. She'd point and laugh when there was no one there. Sometimes she'd cry when we'd take her out of a room, arms reaching out towards some empty furniture or corner. She was particularly attached to the mirror at the end of the hallway. At first we thought she just liked looking at herself and babbling. But then she started talking to it. Her first word was to the strange invisible entity-- a big, bright \"Hi!\" my wife Cara heard her chirp into the mirror one day.\n\nAs her speech abilities developed, she started to have more extensive conversations with her imaginary friend. The friend was apparently male, and older. She claimed he lived in the mirror at the end of the hallway, but he could step out of it and go wherever he liked. Cara and I would hear her in her bedroom, talking to him late into the night. One day I came home and Cara told me Stella had given her friend a name-- Jodie.\n\n\"I didn't name him,\" said Stella, overhearing us from the dinner table. \"He told me.\"\n\n\"She's been saying that all day,\" Cara said.\n\n\"My name's Jordan,\" I said. \"She probably just changed a few letters around.\"\n\nBut Jodie knew things. All of a sudden my three-year-old knew how to tie a perfect slipknot, demonstrating the ability with some of my wife's sewing thread.\n\n\"Where'd you learn that?\" Cara asked her, astounded.\n\n\"Jodie showed me.\"\n\nJodie taught her the names of the old plants that were growing in the old garden alongside the house we'd just bought. He told her about the history of the Navy, and where Kim Il Sung was born and how he came to power in Korea. He told her what kinds of berries you could eat in the woods and which kinds would make you get sick. She knew all different kinds of cars and was able to call out the names of all the birds that populated the trees in our back yard.\n\n\"Mama,\" she asked at breakfast one day. \"What's the Kennedy assassination?\"\n\nIn hindsight, we knew something weird was going on, but we chalked it up to a supremely advanced imagination. Stella liked to watch TV, and she could already navigate google and wikipedia pretty well for her age. I put restrictions on the browser, limited her screen time and called it good.\n\nIn fact, we didn't think too much of it until Stella started insisting on having a place for Jodie at the table.\n\n\"He's lonely,\" she told Cara and I. \"He likes having us here. No one was here before us.\"\n\nAnd there were always the pictures, the strange glowing silhouette in the corners, slowly developing shoulders and a head. Sometimes I'd leaf through them, wondering what the fuck was wrong with my phone's camera.\n\nWe got our first family portraits done at a studio downtown. When they were sent to us, the photographer sounded spooked.\n\n\"There's some other guy in these pictures,\" she said in the email. \"I don't know where he came from. I tried editing him out. He keeps coming back as soon as I close the file or try to attach them to the email. Really sorry. No idea how this happened. Never seen this guy before. If you want to come back and do the portraits again, I'll do them for free.\"\n\nI opened the pictures and my heart started pounding.\n\nThe three of us were sitting there in front of an ocean-blue patterned background. Standing next to us, his hands clasped in front of him, was an old white man dressed in a blue flannel shirt and dirty jeans. He was skinny, almost emaciated. His eyes were chipper and brown. His head was bald, with a little fuzz of white hair coming out of the sides. His skin was like leather and his mouth puckered with rotten teeth.\n\nWhen we'd taken the pictures, we'd obviously been completely alone, although Stella had continued talking to Jodie.\n\n\"'Jodie,'\" she kept saying. \"Why aren't you smiling?\"\n\nThe strange picture guy's face looked sad, but I saw a touch of anger there, too. \n\nI called my wife in. She looked at the pictures and started tearing up.\n\n\"What is this, Jordan?\" she asked.\n\nWe could hear Stella downstairs, having a tea party with Jodie.\n\nI printed off a picture and went down.\n\n\"Stella?\" I asked. \"Is this Jodie?\"\n\nI showed her the picture.\n\nShe was pretending to sip from a small blue teacup, her little blue tea set spread out in front of her on a coffee table.\n\nShe looked at the picture and scrunched her nose.\n\n\"Jodie,\" she said to the other side of the coffee table. \"You didn't smile!\"\n\n\"Is Jodie here now?\" I asked.\n\n\"He's right *there*,\" said Stella, pointing and looking at me like I was an idiot.\n\n\"Can you ask Jodie who he is?\"\n\n\"I already told you,\" said Stella, rolling her eyes and displaying a sassiness more fit for a 15 year old than a 4 year old. \"He used to live here.\"\n\n\"What happened to him?\"\n\n\"He was lonely.\"\n\n\"But we live here now.\"\n\n\"He was *loooonelyyyyyy*,\" said Stella again, drawing the word out. She was getting snotty with me and I didn't like it.\n\n\"Honey,\" I said, trying to hold my patience. I looked at the portrait and the empty space across the coffee table. I reached over and pawed at the air, expecting to feel a cold spot or something. Nothing.\n\n\"Jodie can't stay here with us,\" Cara said from behind me. \"He's scaring Mommy.\"\n\n\"He's sorry,\" said Stella. \"He knows you don't want him here. But he's saying he'll keep me if you try to make him leave.\"\n\n\"What do you mean, he'll keep you?\"\n\n\"Like he kept himself here, with the knot.\"\n\n\"What knot?\"\n\n\"He made a knot in the rope, like the one I showed you. And he put it around his neck because he was lonely, and how he has to stay here.\"\n\nThat's when I grabbed her and ran, the little pink teacup still clenched in her fist. I don't think my feet even touched the floor as we darted out the front door, Cara behind us yowling and shouting prayers. Stella started bawling, seeing how distraught we were.\n\n\"Why did you hurt Jodie's feelings?\" Stella screeched at me as I reversed out of the driveway and nearly took out the mailbox.\n\nWe haven't been back to the house since, and we won't be.",
"I thought Claire was going insane. It's cute when your three year old daughter has an imaginary friend but Claire is twenty-three. Twenty-three year olds do not have imaginary friends. \n\n\nClaire's been at med school and I haven't seen her for months. I was excited to see my baby girl again when she come home late March. Over dinner, Claire mentioned that she made a new friend named Ellie. She would go on and on about their adventures and what a great time she's having. Everything was fine, until later that evening. I came into the living room to see Claire sitting by herself flipping through our family photo book. I sat down and asked if she misses the summers we spent in Thailand. Claire, with a puzzled look, asked me why I was sitting on Ellie. I didn't understand. There was no one in the room. She asked me to get up then apologized to the empty space next to her. Either I was going mad or she was. Claire placed the photo book down and said she was going to get ready for bed to rest up for her big day planned with Ellie tomorrow. She walked upstairs and asked Ellie to follow her. She tells Ellie that the guest room is right next to her bedroom and to let her know if she needs anything.\n\n\nI don't know what to say. Is my daughter on drugs? Has she gone mad? Am I on drugs? I don't know anymore. Concerned, I was going to discuss what just happened with my wife, until something caught my eye. I picked up the photo album that Claire was looking at and there she was. Standing in front of a temple in Thailand was me, my wife, Claire and fourth person I do not recognize. She was standing right next to my daughter and I have no recollection of who she is. I must be going insane.\n\n\nThe next morning, Claire was already in the kitchen when I walked in. She was sitting there with two bowls of cereal. I asked her if she made me breakfast for me and she said she didn't know what I wanted. Now it makes sense. That second bowl wasn't for me. It was Ellie's. To avoid the awkwardness, I walked over to the calendar hanging on the wall and flipped it over. Trying to make small talk with Claire, I say to her, \"Three months down, nine to go.\" Claire smiles at me briefly and continues to finish her cereal. Claire tells me she's going to swing by the hospital to pick up something and asked if I need a ride anywhere. Since I'm definitely going insane, I decided that it would be smart to go along with her and maybe talk to a doctor about my memory and vision issues. I grab my jacket and we head out the door.\n\n\nAt the hospital, Claire introduced me to her friend Tom. Tom, is a third year med student who specializes in mental illnesses. As if the stars are all aligned, this is the perfect opportunity for me to ask a few questions to see if I'm going insane. Claire excused herself to use the restroom and took advantage to tell Tom the events that has transpired in the past 24 hours. With a worried look on his face, he proceeds to grab a pen and pad and scribbles something down. He folds it in half and tells it's a prescription that will help me with my problems. As Claire returns, Tom quickly shoves the prescription in my pocket and tells me not to say anything to Claire. \n\n\nAs we leave the hospital and go to the car, I asked Claire to drop me off at the drug store down the street. I wanted to pick up a few supplies for the house. Claire tells me that she knows. Confused, I asked her what she means. She tells me that she knows I'm seeing things in pictures and that I am having memory loss issues. She also tells me that she knows Tom wrote me a prescription. She must've saw Tom shove the prescription into my pocket when she re-joined us. She tells me that Tom has a tendency to think that drugs are the answer to everything and asks me to take a look to see what he prescribed. Claire can't seem to control her excitement as I take the folded prescription out of my pocket. I unfolded the sheet of paper to see what Tom prescribed.\n\n\n\n\"April Fools\""
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[WP] You accidentally open the pause menu for life.
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"\"No no no no PLEASE DONT DO THIS! IM BEGGING YOU.\"\n\nThe man tilted his head, unmoving, the knife still at my daughters throat, his grimy hand holding her hair like a vise. The men around us laughed.\n\n\"He can't even take it like a man, surprise surprise.\" the tall one said, arms crossed with a look of passive confidence.\n\n\"None of them ever do.\" the man holding my daughter whispered under his breath, his voice hoarse from some kind of brush with death, as if his vocal chords had torn and never quite recovered. He shook her by her hair, pulling and tearing as tufts of it were pulled free and her shrill, terrified scream pierced my heart.\n\n\"PLEASE. I'LL GIVE YOU ANYTHING ELSE.\" I screamed, my body shaking in discordant sobs.\n\n\"We heard you the first four times you said it, as you heard us when we told you, we dont want you, we want her new name.\" the tall one spoke, clearly the one in charge.\n\nI looked at my daughter in a moment which seemed to stretch out for minutes. A bloodied face, torn shirt, random tufts of hair torn out in a fury by the beast that held her. She was only 9, and would surely be traumatized by this for the rest of her life, these men having already robbed me and my daughter of any chance of normalcy in our lives. And the name, *her*, I couldn't give her up, hidden by the tight veil of witness protection, she had taken a leap trusting me, and I was about to break it, and surely get her killed, probably much worse. But then I looked at my daughter one more time, her eyes bloodshot from crying, her face an array of emotions no child should ever have to experience. She was all I had.\n\nI closed my eyes, the image of my daughter too much to bare. And then I spoke the name of the only lover I had ever had. The tall one chuckled, and the beast smiled.\n\n\"Thank you for your cooperation.\" the tall one said, immediately bringing out his phone and sending the order which would kill my family forever. And what had we done to deserve this?\n\nThe man looked up from his phone for a second, as if remembering something important. \"You guys know the routine, no prisoners.\"\n\n\"NO!\"\n\nThat slowdown of time as the beasts hands wrapped around my daughters neck, his face contorted into an expression of pure ecstasy. I pulled toward her with more force than I ever had in my life and broke free of the two men that were holding me, but then the beast torqued his hands in an instant, and a loud *crack*, pierced the relative silence of the darkened street we had somehow ended up in. Her eyes went dull, and her head lulled, as the beast picked her up by her broken neck and laughed. A deep hearty laugh of pure malevolence.\n\nI felt something break. No urge to cry out in anguish, no urge to attack the killers of my family, for a moment, there was nothingness. No thought, no feeling, no recognition. \n\nI exhaled a long, slow breath and felt a feeling building inside me, not strength, or courage, or some sudden willpower. But serenity, a sudden knowing of so much, yet so little. And then an emptiness. I closed my eyes, and then opened them, and all was still.\n\nEverything was frozen, and all was silent. For a moment, I emulated myself, staring sideways at the tall one's eyes. But they simply stared forward in their confident gaze, unblinking, unmoving. I stood up slowly and walked toward my daughter, suspended in the air by the man's massive hand. Inches away, I touched her face, still warm, and then stared. Minutes passed beyond time, an iron law of reality I had thought unbreakable. I looked up at the man, the beasts face, frozen in an expression of gross pleasure. Smiling, I turned my fingers into hooks and began moving them toward his eyes.\n\nI would blind them all.\n\nI would do so much more.\n\n",
"Sore from a long day of packing shelves, my feet ached as I walked down the street whistling to myself as I went. The light pattering of the rain bounced and jumped off my raincoat's hood and was just raining enough to cover my glasses with rainy droplets. Sighing audibly I wiped them on my shirt, the material however only managed to spread the water along the lenses: frustrated and tired I stuck my chin out and with my head shaking I turned down the familiar alley onto my road.\n\nWith my apartment block coming into sight I started my usual pocket patting routine to determine where my keys were. Deciding they were in my ass-pocket I reached back grasping at the lip of the denim trousers. My hand clasped onto what I assumed were my keys I pulled them upwards out of the slightly wet pocket. As I did so my shoulders relaxed; the weight of my backpack suddenly lifted, the tension in my back deflated and my feet felt rested. A large white box popped up just in front of my head, the lip of my hood slightly obscured the boxes but as I reached up to push it back the luminous boxes glided down into the centre of my vision. All sounds were cancelled out around me and a soundtrack started to play slightly above my head just like earphones which just fell out, slightly distant but definitely still there. \n\nMy eyes strained as I stared at the... Options Menu...? It reminded me of that from 'The Witcher III' life just seemed to stop, the patter of the rain, the annoying flicker of street lights just seemed to disappear. I shook myself and panned up the menu, -Quit -Life Settings -Difficulty -Character Creation -Skill Points -Restart Life -Load Save -Resume. It took me a second to realise what it was but even as I was getting to grips with the almighty discovery; a series of notifications popped up obscuring the menu infront of me.\n\n\"You have 28 skill points left to assign.\" Followed by \"Your character has the 'Depression' debuff, spend currency to visit an in-game doctor to remove this debuff.\" The final notification popped up, \"You currently have the gold package for Life(TM), Upgrade to the Platinum membership to guarantee a 'First World' spawn and get access to the new ;Genius' trait.\" Panicking I quickly cleared the notifactions, I laughed to myself, No wonder I flucked out of High School, I just hadn't applied my skill points. I'll get to that in a second I thought. My eyes latched onto the difficulty setting, I reached out and 'pressed' the button, Quickly I panned through the difficulty settings, medium difficulty had a tick next to it. Excitedly I pressed the Easy mode. Backing out I quickly applied my skill points: speccing into the 'Lucky','Genetics' and 'Romanticism' trees.\n\nWith a confidence I had never had before I went into the 'character creation' box. I became lost in making my character... no, in making ME the perfect character. After what seemed like merely minutes a pop-up filled my vision and background faded to black, \"you have been inactive for too long, and have been kicked to the \"purgatory\" biome, please log in again to resume your 'my world experienc......\"\n\n",
"I'm not sure what I did. Practicing for the dance competition like I normally do, trying to find my own style. Apparently it was something I did, as I was finishing my routine, I thrust my hand forward, and the world just literally stops.\nNot just the music. I see leaves floating mid-air outside my window and a bird behind them frozen in air. My surroundings seemed to lose some color, and everything was so silent I could begin to hear blood coursin through my head.\nA 3D option menu, out of some futuristic retro-game, hovers in front of me, bobbing slightly. \"Continue\", \"Save file\", \"Load file\", \"Options\", \"Quit\". The \"Quit\" button is dulled, so it seems to be out of option for some reason.\nI press the \"options\" button, shaking out of curiosity and shock. A tab opens, with a hell lot of options. Audio, graphics, controls, calibration, gameplay, all open with massive sub-categories under them, some which I can't even understand.\nThe last bar reads 'Debug (!)'. I accidentally press it while trying to scroll down, and a single option hovers out of the menu, filling my vision. I feel strange tingling and grin at the text as I press 'Yes'.\n\"Toggle God mode?\""
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[WP] You've discovered an ancient, subterranean cavern with a seemingly infinite amount of books that appear to detail every single event in the history of the world. As you take one off the shelf, you notice a red 100 materialize on your forearm. A few minutes later it decreases to 99.
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"I pull out my phone and start a stopwatch. When the number on my arm changes to 98, I hit the LAP button and the time shows 7:46.1. I hit LAP again when it changes to 97, and the time is 13:46.3. So six minutes per tick, times 100... That's ten hours before the counter hits zed.\n\nSo what happens in ten hours? Does my head explode? Do all the lights go out, trapping me forever in this ancient, subterranean cavern?\n\n(And why do I keep thinking of it as an \"ancient, subterranean cavern,\" as if some caverns were brand new and above ground? *All* caverns are ancient and subterranean, dumbass!)\n\nWhatever happens, first I need to figure out what this whole thing is about. Why does this ancient, subterranean cavern (stop it, idiot) have books detailing every event in history?\n\nLet's see--the first book I pulled covered the very first aggregation events, where several rocky bodies collided at low speed, becoming a heavier mass which over time would become the core of the nascent Earth. Every aspect of the impact--the changes in temperature, the crumbling of each body toward the new center of mass, every cleaving of rock, every collapse of debris, every bit of melting or sublimation of subsurface water ice, and the passage of the liquid and gases through the rock--is described in cringingly minute detail. *And it was six inches thick*.\n\nEven on those first shelves, there are at least 50 meters of books for every minute of history. And as the Earth grew from a small rocky body to a planet, the books accumulate faster, until soon there's a kilometer of books for every millisecond.\n\nAnd the section of the library that starts with the genesis of microscopic life? *Thousands* of shelf kilometers *for every cell*, detailing every chemical reaction and all its effects in purple prose. As life spread, the books require increased exponentially until the present day, when there are more pages for every hour's micro- and macroscopic events than there are particles in the observable universe.\n\nWait--how is that possible?\n\nShit--I'm in one of those crappy \"escape room\" games, aren't I? And oh look, my counter just went to 96.\n\nI think I'll just impale myself on a stalagmite and be done with it."
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[WP] Everything on Earth has been discovered, answered, and as far as anyone can tell, explained. Except for one thing that, no matter how much research is done on it, has no scientific, religious, or reasonable explanation for its existence/behavior.
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"\"that damn lizard is the only reason we keep this place running any fucking more man\" it had been hundreds of years, everything was explained, that guy stuck in a medallion? just an amnesiac deity. the statue that tries to kill you? futuristic war tech. everything made god damn sense now, except the god damn lizard, it still made no god damn sense, it still raged at our successes and chuckled at out attempts to kill it, it still routinely shrugged of nonexistence, gods, and even gods of nonexistence. it just refused to die, and the 05 is getting pissed, \"its the last real anomaly, we must have forgotten something\" \"nothing left dude, we did everything we could, we just have to keep it here for GOD DAMN EVER\" ",
"ABSTRACT\n\nThe field of science has made incredible strides over the past several centuries. Dramatic advances in technology have enabled us to answer every question we are able to pose about the universe, from whether there is life after death to how entropy can be reversed. This report, as is the case with every contemporary scientific report, focuses on the one remaining question: where do missing socks go? Psychological data that claimed to explain the effect have since been refuted, and the rate of sock loss has increased alarmingly, from approximately 1.3 socks/month/individual in the year 2000 to 2.9 at present. Extensive GWAS studies have confirmed that this phenomenon is universal and that there are no genetic markers that predispose an individual to losing socks. Using state-of-the-art laundry-proof GPS trackers, we were unable to complete our primary objective of tracking the socks and creating GIS maps of their journeys, as the tracking chips were found in the dryer without the socks they had been attached to. This effect was replicated with different types of fabric, across geographical regions, and using various methods of attaching the trackers, including sewing them directly into the sock. Furthermore, radiolabeling socks and using radiophotoluminescence (RPL) photography to monitor them during the laundry cycle resulted in a complete failure of our equipment that was unseen during all other uses. Thus, our findings support the increasingly popular “Heisenberg Unsockenty Principle” hypothesis, which effectively states that how socks disappear and where they go is unknowable. Nevertheless, the results of this study may be applied to future research to, at the very least, tease apart the mechanism of this principle. Once that has been accomplished, perhaps we will discover a way to counteract it, and the answer to this final question may be within our reach.\n\n\nLog in to view full text\n\nMore options\n\nPurchase digital access to this article\n\nPurchase this issue in print\n",
"Her name is Alia.\n\nTall with shimmering olive skin, piercing golden eyes, and a mane of dark hair that shines red in the sunlight, she was found wandering outside of Raqmu, now known as Petra, in Jordan.\n\nWhile her appearance was striking, the locals took notice when Alia wandered back to the temple and activated it. A long, soothing rhythm began from the bowels of the temple, a sound which has not stopped as of this writing.\n\nAlia was stopped when the locals found her in the temple, humming along to the song. No one knew that the temple could even be activated, but here it was, breathing life into a forgotten song. One, it seems, that Earth knew very well.\n\nThe locals pulled Alia out of the temple to talk to her. As she passed into the sunlight, the dress she was wearing, which had first been a muddled brown, transformed into was a shimmering orange gown laced with golden threads. It was blinding in the sun and when the police complained, she simply passed her hands in front of the cloth and the glare was gone.\n\nShe spoke every language spoken to her perfectly. When questioned by the authorities about who she was and where she was from, she answered only that her name was Alia and that she had gone to sleep in at her home and had woken up here. She didn't seem confused by the attention she was getting either.\n\nShe wasn't surprised at all.\n\nThat was 500 years ago, and she looks today as she must have back then. Our scientists have yet to explain who she is, why she lives so long, why she never ages, and why she has so much information about Earth.\n\nIt is because of her that we know everything to know about Earth. She is also the only thing we cannot explain. And as much as I love Alia, and I always will, I have wondered what her purpose is here.\n\nBut still I love her and she loves me. We have always known each other -- Alia chose my family as her own. Down through the centuries, she has been our caretaker, our friend, our confidant. She has always been in my life and even sat up with me at night when the first Visitors came to us.\n\nThe first \"aliens.\"\n\nEveryone on Earth thought that Alia was one of them, that she had managed to somehow get from her home planet to here and just couldn't find a way back. That had to be the explanation -- after all, everything else on Earth had been explained, even the pyramids.\n\nBut the Visitors were just as shocked by her as we had been when she first surfaced. They knew of her, yes, I could sense that much when they came to visit us, but they had enough respect -- or knew well enough -- not to broach the subject.\n\nThis is when Alia became, for the first time in her written history, agitated. She was restless and distracted. For the first time in my young life, Alia looked sad.\n\nIt left, after a while, then agitation. The Visitors came and left and then came back again. We found out that they were the Cerains and they had come from a Star System we had not yet discovered. They had counsel with Alia, whom they had more respect for than the Council of Earth, and they decided to stay and help humanity.\n\nAll was well. All was good. Humanity had a new friend and we were finally moving towards peace.\n\nBut last night Alia came to my bedroom. I was reading a brief for the Council -- I am their counsel for negotiations between the Cerains and Earth -- and she walked into the room. She asked if I was working on something for the Cerains. When I said yes, she asked me to sit next to her.\n\nWhen I did, she sighed. I could see she was crying. I had never seen her cry and her tears seemed to be made of gold, carrying streaks of it down her face.\n\nI asked her what was wrong and she was quiet for a long time. It was if she had a truth she did not want to unravel because she did not know how it would look if the sun shined on it.\n\nThen she told me this:\n\n**\"Everything humans know about Earth is a lie and you are in danger.\"**"
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[WP] You run an International Drug Smuggling Ring as a front for a charity organization.
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"All donations provide prescription medication for rural hospitals in China. \n\nThat's what this charity is supposed to be. What actually happens is far different. The medications (aka Opium products) are obtained through donations, and moved into rural hospitals which are actually fronts where drug mules can be loaded. Once that process is over, we ship them out to numerous cities across the world, in order to reap the profits of our operations.\n\nYou will find pictures of a small little village on our homepage. It is known as Nan-Fei Village, or Little Fan Village. Bullshit. It's all fake, haha. That's the genius of it, we've created this entire village just to serve as a facade for our organization. It proves that we are dead serious about this. \n\nAny missionaries we hire are already paid by us to deliver good news back to people stateside. We have very specific requirements, so many will obviously have to be rejected.\n\nWho am I?\n\nI am the leader of this glorious cartel, this Reich. My name is Edmond DeSantos.\n\nRemember my name, for if you are going to join our empire, you best know its emperor."
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[WP] As a lowly crafter, you must frequently travel to cities and villages to peddle your wares. When leaving one city, a Hero asks if you'd like to accompany him for protection as he is headed your way. It strikes you as odd that you are never attacked, yet all these heroes encounter endless foes.
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"I took one last look around the company as we made ready to leave, going over our small caravan, double checking the knots on the hardy ropes.\n\n*Fantastic workmanship all around!* I thought with pride. *I must grant the children all a raise when we return home.*\n\n\"Good day, good merchant!\" A man boomed as he drew close. Moments later, he had a meaty hand covering my shoulder. He was large, at least seven feet tall and wearing a light travelling leathers. He bore no weapons except for a sickening morning draped casually over his shoulder.\n\n\"Good day, sir.\" I answered with a bob of my head, trying to keep the fear out of my voice. It wouldn't do to show any weakness before knights. I had an idea of what he wanted, and hoped I was wrong. \"I'm afraid I cannot offer you-\"\n\n\"I am Gionnor, The Eternal Warrior, and I have a most auspicious offer for you!\" The man continued as though I had not spoken. Despite his clothes and size, he spoke with the grace of courtly knight.\n\nI had heard of him of course, but had never expected he would be so...*dangerous.* The Eternal Warrior was famous for his incredible prowess in battle. He had single-handedly saved multiple kingdoms from armed companies. *Alone.*\n\n\"I see you travel out of the East gate! I have just come from Bracken by the Bay, along the same route, and the roads were positively *swarmed* with criminals!\"\n\nI had made that trip four times in the last week and had seen nothing of thieves or killers. Only trees.\n\n\"Now, I happen to be going back the same way, and will allow you and your merry band of traders to stay safe at my camp.\"\n\nI frowned and began to make my apologies when his hand tightened on my shoulder, cutting my breath short.\n\n\"Careful.\" He said suddenly, his eyes hardening. \"The roads can be *very* treacherous. Sure, you may be usually be safe when you travel. But anything can happen!\"\n\nHe leaned in closer and seemed to cover my whole world with a sudden menace.\n\n*Listen to me, boy! Never travel in the company of knights! Do you hear! You cannot truly understand their cruelty. Promise me, boy!*\n\nMy father's final words echoed in my head as I started up at the dangerous eyes glaring down at me.\n\n\"Of course.\" I found myself saying, an obsequious grin forced on my face. \"Of course we would love to travel with you! Always safer in the company of a knight as my father used to say!\"\n\nWe made camp, as we usually did, but kept an eye on Gionnor. He ate the food we offered, drank deeply of the wine and smoked the pipe with the eldest of the tinkerers. He seemed for all the world like a man that lived for the simple pleasures of the road, for the peaceful talk of craftspeople.\n\nThat was until his eyes would inevitable turn towards the road. They would take on a hard edge and he would finger his morning star. We was waiting for something. And I was tired of waiting to find out.\n\nHe sat in a circle with the apprentices, regaling them with some story of how he fought a dragon bare handed.\n\n\"-but you cannot fight a dragon barehanded!\" Adolus was asking, his voice cracking, causing the other children to giggle at him. He reddened in embarrassment but persisted. \"Everyone knows you can only a magicked silver sword can harm a dragon!\"\n\nGionnor saw me approach and motioned for quiet. \"I'm afraid the story must stop there, children! But I shall tell you the rest soon!\" The children let out a groan as he stood and walked over me.\n\n\"Those children are a marvel!\" He declared to me with a grin. \"Simply delightful. You must be so proud.\"\n\nI nodded. \"I am. Those orphans had no future before they joined our band. Now they can all read and write, and will soon be able to fend for themselves.\"\n\nI turned to study him in the light. \"I hope you understand the risk you have brought to my family.\" Was all that I dared say.\n\nHe looked at me for a long moment then sighed.\n\nHis eyes turned back to our path, and his fingers played along the grip of his cruel weapon.\n\n\"If nothing else,\" He said suddenly, whispering so quietly I almost did not hear him. His voice was raw with emotion, stripped of its courtly manners. \"If nothing else, know that I must do this. Know that my quest is righteous, and that I must draw them out. To do otherwise, to continue to wait, is to doom this kingdom.\"\n\nBut I could not stop him. He would use us as bait, for whatever demons pursued him. Some of my people would die, and he would go on to celebrate with the other *goodly folk.* He would care if simple commoners died in the melee.\n\nBut what could I do? He was the Eternal Warrior, and could destroy our meagre troop single handedly.\n\nHe continued to watch the road, and I continued to watch him, my impotent rage curling my fists at my sides. *What do* ***I*** *care for the righteousness of* ***your*** *quest?*",
"I had been on my feet so long that my back felt compressed. It had been a long, long walk from my home town of Harrisburg. A hundred twenty leagues southward along the coast, with the sparkling flat of the ocean my morning and evening companion. Gulls filled the sky above, and sand pipers the scrub in the narrow dunes, below. My other companions, inconstant as the breeze but numerous as the clouds, who had kept me company as I led my small caravan along the shattered, rutted remains of the Old Imperial Road. A hundred twenty leagues carried me through all five major port cities of the Scattered Kingdoms, and I bought and sold until I could buy and sell no more, then went about my way. Such is the life of a fine goods tradesman in the Kingdoms - carpenters and smiths, scribes and plumbers, tanners and weavers and the myriad more mundane craftsmen could settle in a city and make a living, but how many in a city need - and can afford - finely ground glass lenses? Compasses and refracting prisms? Rare ink stones and surgical tools? No, mine is no moribund trade but for all it is necessary, it is not often necessary in any one given place. And so I travel.\n\nA hundred twenty leagues and five great cities, taking three full months with all the time I spent in each city, making more fine crafts from the various specialty materials that each produced. And then, from the Pirate King's High Seat of Threpence, abruptly west, for the long, late Spring crossing of the Barrow Plains. That was what had taken the greatest toll on my feet, my legs, and my back.\n\nWild wheat grows in the vast expanses of the Barrow Plains, contentedly filling the wide stretches between the familial copses of the great, ancient Stemmawood. This wheat feeds the countless ungulates which travel in enormous herds, and their weak, their young, their old in turn feed the packs and clans of carnivores and opportunistic omnivores which stake claim to these abandoned lands. It is said that once, in the time of the Old Empire, these gently rolling hills housed sprawling cities with populations in the hundreds of thousands, all linked by roads which drank the light of day and powered the magical carriages which carried the Empire's citizens across unimagineable distances. But if those stories are true, they speak of a time long, long ago indeed. Today, the greatest marvels are the Stemmawood themselves, which in turn give the name to these ominously peaceful plains.\n\nWreaths of trees, pale and young at their edges, maturing to brilliant, breathtaking splendour at the Inner Rings, all huddle under the impossible height of the Ancestor Tree, which casts its shadow as far as the horizon stretches, in the evenings. For all that the Ancestor Trees scrape the lowest clouds on an overcast day, their roots are the true miracle. They quest so deep into the earth that soil gives way to clay, which then gives way to thick sheets of rock. It is this vast subterranean layer of stone into which the roots dig and rend, at depths so great that explorers can not bear to stay long in the oppressive, sweltering dark. But explore they do, because in these roots lie the graveyard of civilizations long forgotten. \n\nNear the surface, where the roots are thicker across than the largest of merchant ships, the space between them forms pockets and hollows in which can be found great ossuaries. No charnel house, these great walls of bone have been pressed tight, and every scrap of tissue which can feed an animal, insect, or fungus has been stripped. And so like macabre castles these unsettling fortresses of crushed human corpses guard the rich depths where treasures and horrors ancient dwell. Many stories are told of explorer groups who, though well provisioned and prepared for any contingency, have wandered so long in the hallways of the dead that they begin to hear whispers from the grinning skulls which surround them. Some mournful, some playful, some eager, some indifferent. And some so maddening and terrifying that seasoned veterans panic and fall breathless to the floor, voiding bladder and bowel in the grasp of a horror no mortal fear can impel. It is in these wicked depths the Prince of Worms walks, gibbering rage and insanity so intense it lends credence to the ancient myths that where man dies in the millions, primal urges and unhuman hungers are born. These are the barrows which give the Barrow Plains their name, these the terrors that nest on the shoulders of would-be settlers, driving them to the safety of the cities as surely as the glinting eyes and fangs of the threats which own the open, wild nights.\n\nTwo hundred leagues and twenty more, through the golden Barrow Plains where sunken riches of sunken civilizations turn the wild grain into a rippling ocean of golden wealth. And like the rich blue ocean of water that feeds the coasts, this ocean too kills those who drink deeply of it. And so I flew, eleven days at a pace which left two horses and a donkey to add someday to the barrow we will all one day become. Eleven days to the enormous, concentrically-walled city of Elon Ilume, the Shining Tree of the Midland.\n\n\n(continues)"
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[WP]Centuries ago, you pissed off the god of death. As payback, he’s refused to let you die.
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"One prank. One single prank and I'm now an immortal being.\n\nThat would sound absolutely bonker to a normal person, and you'll be right. It is crazy, and it is my reality.\n\nMy name is... actually that's not important. You're more interested in why I said that I'm an immortal being. Well, I played a prank on the god of death and in his wrath, he decided that he will not let me die, period. Trust me, I've tried, and I've tried everything. At first it was glamorous, I figured since I can't die then I can do whatever I wanted. After that, the next 3 decades was a blur from all the drugs, sex and whatever else I indulged in. Can't remember much, obviously, turns out being immortal doesn't exempted you from the massive hangover. \n\nAfter I've calmed down on my \"hot\" streak, I began to notice something: my sense of taste is weakening. Thought it was just a temporary side effect from the streak, I carried on as usual. But it wasn't temporary, and it isn't the only one. One by one, my senses started to deteriorate slowly but surely. Doctors couldn't find out anything about my condition, and my body is in such healthy shape despite everything I've consumed that I could be considered a picture of health. Still thinking it maybe just side effects and they would go away if I stayed off the drugs.\n\nIt didn't.\n\nThe first sense I lost was the sense of taste. Not even the saltiest kind of salt or the most sour lemon could give me a sense of what they taste like.\n\nThe next was the sense of smell. I couldn't taste anything before this but I certainly can smell what they smell like. That's all gone now.\n\nI freaked out and I pleaded to the god of death for a way out. But there was simply silent.\n\nOne by one, I witnessed firsthand as my senses start to disappear one after another. Like a domino effect but each domino is... yeah...\n\nFear, anger, hatred and desperation lead me to depression. I tried to find a way out before my sight completely disappear. Cutting, shooting, hanging, poisoning, beheading, etc... none of it worked. I couldn't even feel any pain then. And soon after all those attempts, I lost my sight.\n\nWhat else to life is there when you can't taste, smell, see, hear nor feel it? I'll just answer that for you. The answer is none. There's nothing, absolutely nothing. I'm now just a sack of meat, limping in the middle of nowhere, unable to do anything. \n\nI've given up. Now it's just me and the silence of my own existence.\n\nAbsolute silent."
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[WP]You've been sucked into the world of your dungeons and dragons campaign
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"(I'm not running a DnD campaign, but a Sci-Fi campaign using OpenLegend and a homebrew space ship system. I'm gonna use that.)\n\n\n\nI got away with it. I infiltrated Zeus Interstellar, got their technology, and made it out, alive and healthy. No bullet wounds, no burns, nothing. This was certainly one of the easier assignments I've been on. The Protectorate will be proud of me.\n\n\n\nI quietly walk through the door of my house. My lovely wife, with all her energy, bounds up from the couch, and tackles me playfully. \"You've been away for too long mister!\"\n\n\n\nMuch too long. I embrace her with all the passion of \"I miss you\"s of a two month assignment. \"Any length of time is too long for us, little honeyblossom!\"\n\n\n\nWith a twinkle in her eye, and a cock of my smile, we sneak off to bed, for an evening of passion, and a night of dreams.\n\n\n\nI don't recall the time, but the moon shone in through the window, the creak of movement pierced the air, and it was smelling of.... burnt toast? Suspicious of this, I carefully climbed out of bed, to avoid awakening Tiana. I pull my handgun of the safe and make sure it's loaded, as I quietly sneak out to check the ruckus.\n\n\n\nOut in the living room, are three figures shrouded in the furious movement of a flashlight. The boxy, shiny one sees me, and calls me out by name with it's robotic voice. \"Rocker, tell us where you're hiding them.\"\n\n\n\nCrap. Liberation Bounty Hunters. I flash on the house lights and squint to see the intruders. The biggest is a robot, of boxy form, literally a toaster with a body. Another is a human of tan complexion, primitive hair and swords for arms. The final figure is disfigured, with bony knobs on his foregead, and two snakes wrapped around a pole on his belt.\n\n\n\nThe robots was unfazed by the light, he bum rushes me into the wall, and I can feel my skin split and bleed as the drywall cuts into it. I manage a stray shot to disable the robot's arm, so I can climb out and deal with the others.\n\n\n\nThe boneheaded figure pulls out his snake staff, and a gooey glow flies through the air around me and pours into the robot's arms, seemingly repairing it. At the same time, the figure with the sword slips as he tries to run towards me, and in his unlucky stupor, slips, knocks his head, and blacks out.\n\n\n\nI feel a sudden snapping pain on the back of my head as the robot pimp slaps me across the room. Stunned from pain, I can't help as the bonehead covers me in a thick silvery goop. I try to fight back, but I can't, this material hardens and traps me.\n\n\n\nThey get their unconscious friend awake, and the robot starts carrying me, taking me to whatever hellish doom they have awaiting for me. All I can do is tear up, and hold hope that I will be home again for my wife."
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[WP] Psychics are rounded up and forced to compete in gladatorial-esque combat to the death. Each psychic is assigned a threat level between 1(the lowest) and 10(the highest). Your psychic threat level is 1, yet you have reigned as supreme champion for the last 2 years.
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"I could hear the murmuring from the next room over. Some hotshot Cat10 that thinks the world of himself. \n\n“Dude, I go up against the One today!”\n\nHis friends went *wild* at that statement. It was an honour to fight the One; me. I’ve been the reigning champ of the Synapse Coliseum for… two years now. \n\nAh, the Synapse. Since psychics started showing up a few years ago, some sick fuck in Russia had the idea to round us all up in mid-western Siberia and force us to fight to the death. After they found us, they started classifying us, in categories ranging one to ten.\n\nA lot of people came up with unique abilities, but the defining factor of a category, in true Russian style, was measured in destructive capacity. How much they could move.\n\nCat10’s, the smarmy bastards, were strong enough to strike someone with a building. I once saw one rip out thirty square meters of concrete out of the ground and smack some unlucky Cat6. They weren’t really creative, though. \n\nMeanwhile, a Cat1 could only move objects less than ten cubic millimeters. \n\nI’m a Cat1.\n\nWhatever, I thought. I’m up against a Cat10, so what?\n\nI cracked my knuckles and stood up out of my chair. The light from the main arena gently streamed into my room, which, might I add, was incredibly well furnished for a psychic. I could have used a coffee machine, but beggars can’t be choosers, I suppose.\n\nThe more I listened to the obnoxious dickweed in the other room, I could recall who he was. He was the guy who could light the air on fire, somehow. I almost forgot about him. Couldn’t remember his name for life of me, though.\n\nThe announcer started speaking in those gargantuan speakers that littered the place. He was an American that moved here, probably just to watch people kill each other. The crowd loved his enthusiasm, even if it was in absolutely mangled Russian. The entertainment of the Synapse Coliseum certainly ended the Cold War quick, though.\n\n“Ladies and men, are you ready!?” He was so damn loud, it almost hurt. Hurt me more than any psychic, that’s for sure. I casually sauntered over to the gate, hands in my pockets. They gave me some nice armour, but I didn’t bother to change into it. So, I’m just standing there, with no coffee, in jeans and a hoodie. I didn’t really need the armour.\n\n“In one corner, we have the incredible inferno, Jack Liggett!” Ah, right. Another American, hauled here like me. Some sort of dudebro, loving to brag to his friends about all the women he’d banged. I could always hear the parties as I was trying to sleep, and it annoyed the shit out of me. First time I met him in person, I was tempted to bang him. Over the head. With a pipe wrench.\n\n“And in the other corner…” the gate in front of me slowly began to raise. I took a moment to adjust to the sudden light that hit my eyes. “The undefeated…” some fireworks went off on the other end. “The destroyer…” the gate got to my neck level. “The One!” The crowd roared as he said my name. Felt good, almost. \n\nI took a step out into the arena. The ground was slick from the melted snow. Hundreds upon hundreds of people lined up to watch the two biggest boys in the competition kick the shit out of each other.\n\nJack put his arms up, spinning around gladiator style, pumping up the crowd. I threw up a casual wave. Jack was six feet of pure, football-playing muscle, with the stereotypical blonde hair slicked up in a faux hawk.\n\nHe crossed his arms, sure to show me his muscles. “You ready to be defeated, One!?”\n\n“Well, I’m *more* ready for a nap and a cup of coffee, but sure.” \n\nJack lowered his hands, and the ground itself started to tear asunder. Massive chunks of concrete were pulled out of the ground like a fish out of a pond. They levitated weightlessly next to the cocky bastard. Looked like he didn’t want to use his trademark, he wanted to crush me old-fashioned.\n\nI didn’t even move my hands. I simply twitched a finger.\n\n“After this, I’m gonna be—” he stopped talking mighty quick. The concrete dropped down as he lost focus. He clutched his chest and fell to his knees, gasping for air.\n\nYou might recall that I said, “under 10 cubic millimeters.” That’s how much I can move. There’s a lot of things in the human body under 10 cubic millimeters. Like the heartstrings. And the bronchioles.\n\nJack sucked in one more, useless, ineffectual breath before he fully keeled over, face hitting the hard ground with a quiet crack.\n\nI looked back up to the crowd. They roared in applause again.",
"Nobody has ever seen a level 10 before. \n\nLet me explain, there are buildings that go up to and over level 10, there are many video games that go beyond level 10, there's even game shows that go past 10 levels. \n\nWhat I'm talking about are psychics with psychic powers. I'm talking about telekinesis, telepathy, foresight, psyionic weapons and tools and armour. I'm talking about really crazy shit you've likely never seen before. For good reason too. \n\nWhen I was little, not more than 2 years old, I was taken from my family. My mother's sobbing face, streaked with tears, helps comfort me late at night. It lets me know that she loved me, and never wanted me to go. My father, fighting, struggling and eventually getting forced unconscious by men dressed in all black helps keep me strong. Knowing that despite overwhelm force, one should always fight for those they love, and those that love them. \n\nI didn't understand it at the time. Didn't realize what was happening, why my parents were acting the way they were, or why the men in black stuck a needle in me that made me fall asleep. \n\nIt wasn't for several years that I understood what had happened. Many more after that before I understood why. Truly understood why I should say. \n\nYou see, secret societies never went away. The illuminati, the free masons, the templars, the dozens of others, they never truly left. All they did was have a mean PR game. \n\n\"The greatest trick the devil ever pulled was convincing the world that he never existed\" is a quote that definitely applies here. What happened was they started amalgamating. The smaller ones bunching up and tieing themselves together for safety against the much bigger and more powerful ones. They formed a council, a shadow world government to monitor, influence and control the world. \n\nThat's not to say everything goes according to their plan. World War II apparently screwed a ton of their plans, not to mention most underdogs or apparent losers who managed to snag victory in an election. Surprise victors in the sports world who then gain social influence. Unknown artists, actors, musicians, directors all who by the power of the populace gain power in one form or another from sheer public popularity. \n\nI'm getting off topic. \n\nThese secret societies can wield tremendous power, but they are not invulnerable. Their biggest weakness are psychics, people who can consciously read the minds of others and can discover their secrets. People like me. \n\nSo they use their considerable influence to watch for signs of us from afar. People placed in specific positions who will give them a call when strange things start happening, centered around certain individuals. \n\nThen they abduct them. \n\nThey force us into what are for all intents and purposes prison cells. Small rooms that have small food slots, automated delivery systems, air vents to keep us living and conveniently drug us, and controlled televisions that teach us how to fight. \n\nAfter all this effort, they toss us into an arena and force us to kill each other. It's their way of reducing our population by killing the only people who can threaten them. Making the only people who can stop them, face the only people who can realistically kill them. \n\nWhy so complicated? Well it's simple really. Faced with any normal person, even the weakest of us can hide from them. Make their eyes skip over where we're hiding. Force them to leave the door open that extra second to slip out. Maybe even rip the information needed to take them down from their minds. \n\nDrugs? Well, drugs work on the weaker ones. Levels 1 through 6 can succumb to enough drugs pumped through the vents, but everyone else's subconscious can begin to regulate our breathing. Even in completely toxic atmospheres we create a bubble of safe air and can sometimes, if desperate enough, create our own supply of breathable air. \n\nBullets from high powered snipers? Levels 5 and up create psyionic shields without much if any conscious control. Our minds, being more powerful, work faster and thus so do our nerves, bodies, etc. No more than a centimetre to a millimetre manage to penetrate our bodies before they're stopped. \n\nHeat or cold? Same problem as the drugged air. \n\nPoison? Can't poison the entire meal enough to kill us, as with the drugged air. Levels 8 and up have foresight and psyionics enough to separate the active poison from the edible food. \n\nSeeing the problem yet? By the end of it all, you're only tipping your hand to the most powerful among us, always a dangerous proposition. \n\nSo they imprison us. Make us kill each other. Let the more focused kill the less. 5's can kill 9's if their will is sharpened enough. They may be less powerful, but that doesn't matter if the power they do have is wielded creatively enough to out think their opponent. If they gang up on stronger foes. \n\nWhich brings us to me. \n\nTechnically, they classify me as a 1. \n\nMy day starts with exercise, followed by breakfast, meditation and more exercise. Then lunch, paying attention to the TV just enough to pick up new ideas, more exercise, then dinner. Finally meditation until I fall asleep or they drug me to sleep. Every year or so they use our beds as automated delivery systems to their arena. \n\nLike today. \n\n\"*Today is the day you've all been training for. The fight for your life! The winner gets to survive until the next one, the losers all die. May the best warrior win!*\"\n\nThe speaker crackles with static throughout their little speech. As before, I'm groggy as hell, but that goes away after a few seconds. A couple minutes before everyone else gets a chance to get up and start making their way from their beds, which retract after 5 minutes, leaving us all behind. \n\nAs with the past competitions, I telepathically send out a quick message, probing their power levels and getting ready for what's next. I don't want to do this, but I have no choice at this point. \n\nFighting blurs together for me. One second I'm sliding underneath a person floating in the air, firing off a small push towards an incoming psyionic bullet, the next I'm snapping someone's neck and turning to use their body as a meat shield against someone else. \n\nAt the end of it all, I'm alone, covered in blood and gore, wanting nothing more than to break down and cry, or crawl into bed.\n\nThen the stumble back to where my bed is waiting for me, and the crash before I fall asleep. \n\nThey can't understand why whenever they test me my power levels vary so much. Sometimes they get a 9, while others a 1. They don't understand that after years of battling, I don't need to use much power to win, or that my latent power is so low for a reason. \n\nEvery battle, I tell everyone that I can save them, or part of them at least. Every time I copy them and store them in my mind as soon as I detect them. My mind is filled with hundreds of us who want to escape, each one looking for another option, another opportunity, an unconsidered possibility. \n\nWhenever I'm about to die, they get saved, like program files on a computer, and stored to allow me to survive. Each time the threat is gone they come back and continue without interruption. \n\nI'm what's considered a 10. I will escape and I will bring the karma train to these bastards, hitting them harder than a bullet train and leaving nothing but bloody pulp in my wake. \n\nNow it's time for another fight. You will survive in me. Remember that. ",
"You sit in the room, reading the profiles of all the other contestants, not that your really interested. It would be the same as every other battle in the last two years. You would win. \n\nThey had a training rink available, and evaluation rooms available if you thought your power had increased and you wanted your threat leave reassigned. But you were not interested. You knew the extent of your powers and had no need to train. You are evaluated at a one. Lowest score possible and still have powers. No one had thought you a threat the first time, and the battles were over within seconds. Not long enough for people to understand what you had done. \n\nThe second year was a bit different, but the other competitors were sure it had been a fluke, that maybe the rating system had been messed up the year before. But no, you ranked a one again. And again you won. Every single battle. \n\nHad you been on the street no one would have given you a second thought, tiny, only 4 foot 11 inches. Pale, and young looking, your face having retained that young roundedness. But you wore tall heels, and bright clothing. You wanted to be noticed, you wanted to be respected. That's why you had volunteered to fight in the first place. Why after receiving your rating you still choose to compete. These were life and death battles after all! Champions got a cut of all bets taken, which you had found out the first year, was no inconsiderable amount. \n\nYou could have stopped, being a two time champion was unheard of, but it wasn't good enough for you. For you had learned something from that first battle. You liked when they died. \n\nThe buzzer rang from a far off paging system, and a voice announced that you were up next. You tossed the latest file on the table and headed out to the arena. They had a table of weapons for you to choose from, so you grabbed a small dagger and walked out into the waiting crowd. \n\nCheers and screams nearly deafened you, but you were interested in nothing other that the figure across the way. A tall, pallid man was standing there. You were quite sure that he was already trying to kill you, but lucky that was one of the two skills you had. You simply were impervious to others psychic abilities. It wasn't an active skill, so if hadn't registered on the assessment test. You walk over to him, not even bothering to remember his name, as he was about to die. \n\nYou reach him, and he looks at you angrily. But he looked you in the eyes. And that was key to your other tiny ability. Looking someone in the eyes made them want to do anything, absolutely anything you wanted them to do. And you wanted this man to die. You hold out the dagger, and without saying anything he takes it, and plunges it into his neck. You turn and walk out the way you had come in. One down and 154 to go.",
"\"*Him?* Are you crazy?!\"\n\n\"What? He wins all the time!\"\n\n\"Come on! He's just lucky as shit, there's no way he's gonna win this time- did you fucking bet *all of it?!*\"\n\nI gave Josh my best blank look. Explaining that I didn't want this money anyway would likely be too taxing on both our minds. Statistically speaking, I wasn't about to turn my life around for the better after winning this lottery. Might as well get rid of the easy cash in an easy way.\n\n\"... did you at least keep some pocket change?\"\n\nI nodded. \n\n\"Whew.\"\n\nSome time later, we were in our seats above the arena, each holding the most ostentatious drink a few thousands could buy us. I sipped on mine once and winced. Is that what expensive booze is supposed to taste like?\n\nJosh took a hearty chug of his own, no doubt attempting to drink away the imminent pain of seeing my money burn. \"Here they come,\" he pointed out.\n\nEversight was a six. Sensed the opponents' minds at a distance, and could attack them with what he called \"brain rips\". I wasn't sure how literal it was, but it did kill the ones without any shields quite dead. As he stepped inside the arena - a maze of obstacles, crates and catwalks - his head immediately turned towards the randomized entrance where his opponent was. With a grin on his face, he raised his hand in his iconic gesture.\n\nIt could be over in the very first second. Even if Underdog had any psychic defenses - and he never demonstrated any - a singler's shields could not be strong enough. Defense was always weaker than attack, even in a matchup of two tens. \n\nI sipped on my drink. Josh leaned forward.\n\nEversight didn't attack. He kept his arm extended towards the enemy's location, while Underdog climbed clumsily to the upper level.\n\nUseless. High ground could give him a chance against someone else, but not a psychic who could anticipate any ambush. (\"It'ss over, Anakin!\" Josh called out, with a slight slur.) Eversight was going to execute him at the last moment, for maximum dramatic effect. Crowd loves those.\n\n\"Looking for me?\" the six shouted, with a mocking tone. \"Don't worry, I'm giving you a little hint here.\"\n\nUnderdog perked up at hearing that and strode towards the sound with an idiot's confidence.\n\n\"Come o-on, I'm right behi-ind it,\" Eversight sing-sang, when the only thing breaking the line of sight between him and the singler was a rather large, tall crate on the upper level. Underdog was leaning against it casually, as if he was taking a smoke break at work and not about to have his grey matter mutilated. \"Come out so you can watch me destroy you-u...\"\n\nThe singler shrugged, and gave the crate a push. ",
"\"That's not fair! Has your mother taught you to not hit below the-augh!\"\n\nI kicked him in the genitals again.\n\n\"There was never a rule against kicking someone in the balls.\"\n\nUsing psychokinesis, he levitated a chunk of rock and attempted to blindside me with it. Fortunately, I sidestepped just in time and it hit him square in the face, crushing him against the wall of the stadium and staining it with a deep shade of crimson.\n\nThe fucker had it coming. He stepped on my new shoes after all.",
"I don't know why they do it, it must be some sick joke to them, justified by their need to protect the public. the public doesn't know about us, the government makes sure we disappear as soon as we are discovered. It doesn't matter how powerful we are, whether we can crush buildings or barely move feathers, we are taken away, to this offshore facility. But of course, they can't just execute us, that would be far too unhumanitarian, so they make us fight, fight to the death. It doesn't matter your threat level, your health, or your age, there is no \"fair\" in the arena, just willpower, and bloodshed. \n\nMy story is not a happy one, nobodies story here is happy. new tournaments are held every day, new psychics flown in every day to do battle. I hate the fights, stepping into that arena, knowing that I will leave with blood on my hands. It almost feels like cheating, but in the arena, there are no rules. I'm a level 1 telekinetic, at the peak of my strength I could lift a pebble an inch off the ground, yet for two straight years and over one thousand battles, I have never lost a fight. I knew that I would never win in a fair fight, head to head combat, my will versus theirs, I knew that I needed to fight dirty if I wanted to survive.\n\nSome people come to the arena, excited, with a threat level of nine or sometimes ten they were ready to finally use their power, sure that they could climb to the top. Those fights were the easiest for me, I didn't feel so bad about killing them. The hard fights were the lower level ones, the people who were often weened out by round two, they were difficult because I could see in their eyes that they knew they were already dead, I pitied them, they didn't ask for this, I didn't ask for this, We hadn't done anything wrong, we weren't strong enough to be any threat to society yet here we were, and as they lay there dying I would always cry. \n\nEvery battle would always be the same, two of us would step into the arena, my opponent would always throw their best shot, telekinetics hurling boulders the size of small cars, mentalists blinding my mind with agony, or shooting pure psychic blasts that could vaporize flesh. All I needed to do was survive the first shot, then it was all over. When you're put into a psychic battle, everyone expects you to fight with your mind. \n\nNobody expects a punch to the throat. ",
"“What?! How did you beat me? I’m the best in the world, THEY GAVE ME A RATING OF 11.”\n\n“I dunno man, I guess I’m just lucky.”\n\n“But... but, you’re just a rank one, a pebble has more psychic powers than you do.” \n\n“Like I said, luck.”\n\nWe battle to the collapse of the other, over a very intense game where the goal is to push the bead down the string to the opponents side with your mind. Psychic Level 10s have a bit of difficulty but a level one can’t even make it shake. \n\nI was tested, retested, and retested twice, always level 1, no powers at all. Again and again I’ve won, again and again I’ve made level 10’s cry like they’re 4 years old. No one has ever beat me.\n\nMy secret? I blow on the bead."
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[WP] Downvotes and upvotes are reversed. Write about how chaos ensues as the most hidden posts of Reddit are pushed to the front page.
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"\"1 July, 2018. The day the EA stocks shot through the roof.\"\n\nThat's it. That's the story. Somehow, the EA community manager who managed to royally fuck up our image managed to become the most upvoted user on the website. To test our success, all of our games now have microtransactions. To play 30% of the game, players must pay 15$ but to play 100% the players must only pay 45$. If people like our community manager so much, they will be willing to pay. This price applies to every copy of every game, sold or unsold.\n\n**The Next Day**\n\n**NBC Los Angeles**\n\n*Riots have broken out all across the state with protesters marching towards Redwood City carrying pitchforks and torches. Only one building has been targeted, the headquarters of an MNC known as Electronic Arts.*\n\n"
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[WP] When you get to Heaven, you find that there are strict rules for communicating with the living. You're allowed to make them believe you're with them in spirit, but not allowed to do anything that would give them definitive proof. However, you've found a loophole, and God isn't happy about it.
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"When life takes a turn for the worst, I believe no one in the history of this planet has ever been prepared for it. It goes by in a flash, and I’ve been full of regrets ever since my car flew off of a road and into the lake a couple miles from my house. \n\nIt’s not my house anymore. The last think I remember is the sound of cracking and creaking, my arm in an impossible position as my car rolled off the steep hill and right into the water. \n\nI couldn’t tell you why, but I didn’t panic. I could hardly see anything but the moon, the speck of an orb above the water as my car sank, and my lungs filled with the dirt water. I could hardly feel it, at that point I was numb. My vision went blank and the light of the moon was gone from by vision, like someone had flipped a light switch. \n\nNow all I can think of is my Daisy. The only person I ever truly had, my little girl. She was only 11 years old when I died. I could never truly leave her though, I would never let her believe she was alone in the world. When she attended my funeral, her cheeks were rosy and her nose was red as she grasped on to the hand of her grandmother; her only surviving family. \n\nSurprisingly enough, there are rules in the afterlife. I thought I could at least escape from rules in death, but I was wrong. I would follow her everywhere, making sure she was alright. It was torture not being able to speak with her. At least demons could speak with the living, they have to obey no rules, and foolish humans are constantly trying to gain contact with them. \n\nBut I had to. I had to talk to my Daisy, to let her know that I would be there. Being there in spirit isn’t there enough, and I would not abandon my child. I was not allowed to give people proof of my existence, a life after death. Gods Rules. I had had enough. I didn’t care about being a good spirit at this point. There was no point to it, no reward, why had I been a good person my whole life if I wasn’t allowed to communicate with my daughter afterwords? \n\nOf course, demons can. I suppose I knew what I had to do. Rules exist because we had the power to break them, of course, or else there would be no rules. I would do anything to talk to Daisy again. So I did what I had to do. \n\nThe man hardly even felt it, at least I think. He was already drunk and passed out at the top of the stairs. All I had to do was concentrate, do everything in my power to break the barrier between two dimensions. First, the creaking of the Fire escape. Then a bang. The man jumped up, talking to himself in a drunken stupor, and I grabbed his shoulders. He protested and whirled around only to scream when he realized no one was there and that he was falling down three s flights of stairs. He lay in a broken heap. Face smushed into the floor, leg twisted unnaturally. I smiled as blood trickled out of his mouth, knowing I’d see my Daisy soon.\n\nIt was done. I had found a way to get to my daughter. There was ringing in my ears and I felt myself moving, through time, through a dimension. Then a booming noise. God would not be happy. But I was ready. \n\nThere were no rules, I was no longer in heaven and no one could stop me from getting to my Daisy now. It didn’t take long to find her. She was in her small bedroom, hair only a little longer since I left. \n\n“Daisy.” I said. Her head shot up, eyes slightly watering when she saw no one. \n\n“He-Hello?” She called out, eyes darting frantically before landing on me. She saw me. I don’t know what she saw but it was me. \n\n“Daisy!” I cried out. Her eyes welled up with tears and she seemed paralyzed as I moved closer, her face contorting into shock.I smiled. \n\n“It’s alright sweetie, it’s me. Don’t you recognize me?” I move right in front of her face moving to embrace her. She is stiff, seemingly hyperventilating. \n\nI knew she would calm down soon, it was me after all. I was with my daughter at last.",
"“If I’m going to be honest, I don’t know how I got to heaven. Looking back on my life, I really do belong down below, but hey, I’m not arguing. Apparently, there was an argument, a slight uprising in heaven from people who’ve ascended but were less than happy about their family members not making it with them. So, the big guy made a change to restrictions. Well, more like made less of them. \n\n“Not too long later, with more people in heaven, they did another slight uprising, arguing about how they missed their families and wanted to spend more time with them and what not. So, the big one made another rule which is pretty long and complicated but shortens down to; you can see your family on earth again but cannot make it known that you are actually there (i.e. you’re there “in spirit”). Of course, boss man decided that if there was any more little uprisings, everyone was going to start having a bad time. \n\n“When I first heard this story, I thought that this isn’t very useful as I didn’t really feel much of a need to see my family again but I thought to myself, ‘Why not? What’s the worst thing that could happen?’\n\n“As I descended back to earth on the stairway to heaven, the first thing I thought was, ‘Why was there no elevator?’ The second was, ‘How badly can I mess with my brother? I mean, he does owe me money.’ Now, what use would I have for money in heaven? None, whatsoever. It’s the principle.\n\n“I got to my brother’s house and knocked on the door, and waited for him to answer. He didn’t. I checked my watch, and realized I didn’t own a watch. Nor did I need to knock. I’m a spirit, right? Might as well just… break in? Is it breaking and entering if I don’t technically break anything? Either way, I get inside. I start stacking chairs and whatnot, making him think I’m a poltergeist that’s come back to haunt him. Nothing serious, mind you. He’s into that creepy pasta stuff so I figured I’d mess with him a little, right?\n\n“Well, he wakes up and of course goes crazy. I do this a couple nights in a row until he goes full blown crazy. I mean, he’s pouring salt everywhere, setting up weird circles and whatnot. He was doing some serious supernatural stuff. Well, one day he has enough and hires an exorcist.\n\n“Now, I don’t know about you, but I believe all ‘exorcists’ are fakes. Quacks. Now, I know that maybe my existence proves that maybe there are real ones but this guy was not. \n\n“He walks in like some big shot and tells my brother leave. I hide and wonder, ‘Can I actually make myself visible to the living?’ Then, I watch him start to steal stuff. Small things like our mother’s old jewelry. I was getting pretty flustered as I knew that I couldn’t really do anything. He proceeds to go for a box marked ‘Bro’s Stuff.’ \n\n“I watched as this assailant opened it up and started grabbing anything that looks valuable. He picks up an envelope and shakes it; it’s heavy, for an envelope. He rips it open and pulls out the contents; a simple note and a couple ones rolled together. He throws the note to the floor and it unravels. I lean closer and it reads, ‘Hey bro, thanks for buying me that pack of gum when we were four. Guess I can finally pay you back now that I have an actual job. And thank you for being here for me all these years, even without mom and dad. I know I don’t say it enough but can you blame me? You’ve been bothering me to pay you pack for the gum for 20 years now! Love ya.’ I looked at the envelope. It was dated the day I died. He didn’t get the chance to pay me back. \n\nThe man goes quiet, bowing his head with a slight smile. A few moments pass before you ask, “I’m sorry. For you both, I mean. What happened next?”\n\nHe looks at you again and says, “I did what I was always doing; I acted like a poltergeist. I started shaking everything in the room, made chairs start flying around the room, made cabinets open and close violently, the whole works.\n\n“He tried to escape, of course, but I’ve never been a man of reason, especially when my brother was involved. He opened the door to go outside. I let him get to the front door to give him some false hope. What I wasn’t expecting was for my brother to be right there as the door swung open. He saw all the things I was doing and went wide eyed. The ‘exorcist’ reached out a hand to try to grab my brother but I wasn’t having it. I grabbed him by his leg and dragged him back inside, slamming the door in my brother’s face. He was banging on it of course but I didn’t care. I was too angry. And don’t give me that look; I told you I don’t belong in heaven.\n\n“I hung the guy from his ankles. I knelt down in front of him and appeared before him. As I did so, he went full deer in headlights. It was a funny site. You should try it sometime. \n\n“Anyway, I looked into his eyes and said, ‘Hello mister fake. Bet you weren’t expecting me.’ He just kept staring at me, probably too shocked at the fact he was meeting a real spirit. \n\n“I continued on with the farce. ‘You’re a very bad man, going through a guy’s recently deceased brother’s belongings. You know how people like you end up, right?’ He shook his head. I smiled in a pretty messed up way, like this.” The guy gives you a devilish grin. Odd, considering where you both are currently.\n\n“Now, I knew I really needed to drive it home that I was some super scary ghost thing so I said to him, ‘Well, let me tell you, you don’t want to find out. Now, you’re going to go out there, tell that kind man what you’ve been doing, or I’m going to personally drag you to hell along with your entire family.’ I dropped him to the floor and he runs out, told my brother everything he was doing, gave back the valuables, everything. That was the last time I saw my brother.\n\nYou both sit in silence after he ended the story. Then, a thought comes to your mind. “Is that why youre getting punished? I mean, you clearly made it know you were there,” you ask.\n\n“Oh, heavens no,” he replies. “Drunk and disorderly. Didn’t even know that was possible in heaven.” \n\n“Bull shit,” you reply. “You’re lying. Did you really think I’d believe you didn’t get in trouble for haunting someone?” \n \n \n\n“Ah, but you see, guard, the rules boil down to ‘You can’t let yourself be know’ so I didn’t. I picked up my brothers letter and wrote something along the lines of, ‘Thank you for entertaining me these past few weeks. If I ever see your brother, I’ll make sure to give him his money.’ You see, I didn’t make myself, his brother, known to him which, very technically, is legal.”"
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[WP]With the exception of Earth, all the planets in our solar system have been colonized by extra-terrestrial life forms. Despite mankind's best efforts, none of our new neighbors want anything to do with us.
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"After learning of the colonization of all other planets in the system, aside from Earth, humans reached out to the new arrivals. Radio, at first. Then every other method they could imagine. In return, the new inhabitants said nothing and did nothing. Their silence was more chilling than their arrival. The telescopes of Earth, trained on every planet in the system, saw their cities swell. Humanity had grown uneasy with their silent neighbors. After two years of debates, humanity decided to reach out. A small vessel that carried a small crew. One philosopher, a mathematician, physicist, medical doctor, an anthropologist, and several linguists. The expectation was peaceful contact. In a show of good faith, more to themselves than to their neighbors, humans carried not weaponry. Humans sought only contact and peace.\n\nThe moment the mission crossed the Kármán line and entered space, it erupted. Ground control had no indication of mechanical failure. While sabotage did cross the minds of many, that theory was quickly eliminated after receiving the message. After years of silence, a launch is what compelled them to address the system's original inhabitants.\n\n\"Space is off limits for your species. You may not leave your planet.\"\n\nThe human species had become prisoners on their planet. It was another ten years before humans gathered the courage to act. Despite the apparent blockade, the nations of the world decided to try once more. \n\n\"Launch. Launch it now. May god be with us,\" said General Howard.\n\nSilence swept the room. The memory of the first attempt had never left them. Many quested whether humans should try again or just resign themselves to this planet. All eyes were on Launch Director Mays. Moments passed and Mays only stood there, as if he didn't hear General Howard.\n\n\"Launch Director, Mays. Launch,\" said General Howard, now stomping over to Mays. He stood before him and growled into his ear. \"What the fuck is this about? That's an order.\"\n\nMay's jaw was clenched and his eyes fixed straight ahead, seeing through the General. Without a word, Mays reached up to his clearance badge, unclipped it, and let it drop to the ground.\n\n\"This is a suicide mission. The crew knows it. And so do we. You know it too, General. What exactly are you expecting?\"\n\n\"And what's the alternative? I'd rather we go swiftly than to die slowly on this rock,\" said the General, shoving Mays away from his terminal.\n\n\"Except you aren't on that ship. They are!\" said Mays, pointing up at the display. The faces of the crew lined the bottom of the screen and the wide view of the shuttle filled the rest of the view. \"Unless you are willing to put yourself on that rocket, you have no right.\"\n\nGeneral Howard stood up from May's terminal. \"Fine. All crew of Serenity 2, you are dismissed,\" said General Howard, undoing his tie. \"I'll board that ship. I'll take the risk. If they blow me out of the sky, at least I'll die knowing I didn't let myself rot here.\"\n\nIt didn't take long to strap General Howard into place. This time, Launch Director Mays didn't hesitate.\n\n\"Ground Control, this is General Howard. I've just crossed into space and en route to Mars. I think we should prepare another crew to follow.\" The display had the Serenity 2 in the center. A small dot now, almost lost with the backdrop of the darkness of space. Without warning, it too was destroyed. Mays buried his face into his hands. He hated General Howard but he hoped that the General went quickly.\n\nThe main display, and every display at Ground Control and all over the world, flickered for a moment. The same words from several years ago appeared once more:\n\n\"Space is off limits for your species. You may not leave your planet.\""
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[WP] The world's first telepathic, you've lent your skills to the medical and scientific community, reading coma patients' life signs, helping develop treatments, and charting development. Today will be the first time you've read a schizophrenic's mind.
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"I closed my eyes and concentrated on slipping through the thin veneer of physical space between the patient and myself. *It's an illusion, we are one, all energy is to be shared* I thought to myself. I imagined all of the molecules that had their place in our respective bodies. I saw them break orbit; their parts swirling and dancing together, forming something new. \n\nThis patient was more guarded than those I had read in the past. There is usually a flurry of visual indicators for me to follow, guiding me, inviting me into their psyche. It's always the ego that presents itself first, often proudly. But Mr. Harrington's schizophrenic mind doesn't work that way.\n\nAll I saw at first was darkness. In the distance, I could hear faint whispers, as if at the end of a long hallway. Some of the whispers were frantic, even hostile, though I couldn't make out any specific words.\n\nI pushed forward, feeling great resistance. It was as if the darkness of his mind was a physical manifestation, protecting him.\n\n\"It's okay, it's me, I'm here to help.\" My voice traveled and echoed as if in a canyon, but with each iteration as it bounced around, the words seemed to change. I thought, for a moment, my own voice came back to me with the words, \"Just kill me, that's how you help.\"\n\nSuddenly I felt a sensation that I was being pulled, or pushed, or squeezed through an opening. The blackness had turned into a dark, smoky haze, still offering me zero visibility. \n\nSuddenly, I felt a tap on my shoulder, which had never happened before while in a trance, and I always assumed that such a feeling would snap me from the trance altogether. But it had not. I spun around, but I couldn't see anyone, or anything. Regardless, I felt as though I were in a *very* crowded room.\n\n\"I'm not here to harm you, Sam.\" I said. My voice echoed around and came back, somehow louder, and threatening as, \"I am here to harm you, Sam.\"\n\n\"No, that's not what I said.\" I shouted. It came back as, \"You'd be better off dead.\"\n\n\"Sam, listen to me, I'm here to help.\" I pleaded. \"No, you're here to die.\" My own voice sharply attacked.\n\nThe fright I felt in that moment really snuck up on me. I knew I couldn't be harmed, not *actually*, and yet I felt the requisite amount of fear. As fascinating as I knew that dichotomy was, in that moment, I just wanted to get out, and the urge was growing exponentially.\n\n\"I'm sorry, Sam, I really tried.\" I shouted. \"You're not going anywhere.\"\n\nI thought about the molecules. I thought about the illusion of space between us. I thought about my own fears and how they might torment me. I thought about being stuck this way for the rest of my life. \n\n\"There's no way out.\" Finally, a voice other than my own. \n\n\"Why would you say that?\" I asked. \n\n\"Because I'm not Sam.\"\n\n",
"Incident Report #649\n\nOctober 12th, 1999\n\nEvaluating Doctor: Dr. James McCormand\n\nThird Party: [EXPUNGED]\n\nPatient: Kevin Holstedt\n\nPre-Incident Description:\n\nOn September 21st 1999, a baseline of communication was established with [EXPUNGED], who refers to himself as \"Jake\". Jake is a relatively unknown deviant, expressing himself as a level 3 telepath. Jake is at an early stage in his life and currently majors Psychology at [EXPUNGED]. After communication was established, he agreed to an internship, with his final assignment to evaluate mental illnesses with patients at the [EXPUNGED] hospital and coordinating with specialists on how to approach treatments.\n\nNOTE: Jake was allowed frequent time off of his internship due to the mental strain it put on him. Frequently complained of migraines and required submission to the hospital he interned at due to the occasional severity of these migraines. As he practiced, the migraines became less frequent.\n\nKevin Holstedt's profile can be viewed in his file, see appendix 1. Summary; Kevin's malfunctioning adulthood and substance abuse has had catastrophic consequences to his well-being, expressing in symptoms classically attributed to, but not limited to, bipolar disorder, OCD and schizophrenia.\n\nIncident description:\n\nTranscript from Jake 'exploring' Kevin's mind on October 12th, 1999, starting 8:54 and ending at 9:39 can be found in appendix 2.\n\nNOTE: Jake had not been exposed to a single patient for longer than 15 minutes (see incident report #639).\n\nAfter 45 minutes inside Kevin's mind, Kevin turned catatonic and Jake removed himself from the premises. When attempted to be halted, he appeared to 'freeze' security officers, who remained in that state for roughly 2 minutes. Standard cleanup procedure was performed in accordance with DLJ004-WI005, outside of Jake's containment. Police officers were informed of the situation, who patrolled Jake's house after he entered. Their report states no one left or entered for a week, until Jake got out of the house and reported back to Dr. McCormand.\n\nPost-incident report:\n\nAfter stating his apologies to the security guards he 'froze', Jake accepted a debriefing, transcribed below:\n\nDr. McCormand: Thank you for coming back to us, Jake.\n\nJake: It's the least I could do.\n\nDr. McCormand: Is there anything you would like to state before we start taking steps back to last week?\n\nJake: Eh, outside of the \"I'm sorry\" jargon and the \"I'm special\" statements, not really.\n\nDr. McCormand: Don't worry about that, all we want to know is what happened. Can you start from the beginning?\n\nJake: Well, when I started seeing in his mind it was...captivating really. See, most people, like you and Lizzy and Berta, have a pretty clear self image. Anyone with a coherent mind does, and these things can range from animals to inanimate objects. All of it contained in this....container I suppose. It's all a hub. It's all connected to eachother. Kevin...was a gigantic shitpile of everything and nothing. Sorry for the French, but there's is no other way to describe it. It kept switching too. One moment I saw a boy crying for his mother. He was dirty, smelled foul, held a teddybear. Clutched it like those baby-monkeys do on Animal Planet documentaries. When I approached the boy, the boy fell apart into a pile of meat while screaming, which rearranged itself into a giant, walking, screaming tumor. It had arms and legs and eyes in places where they shouldn't be. It was rolling around when I saw the condition of his 'container'. Cracks and holes everywhere, with blood and puss flowing. It smelled like something had rotten there for years. Then that thing fell apart and turned into something I can only describe as a mixture of 1933 stop-motion animated King Kong and the fattest man alive. It moved in flashes, with it's blubber lagging behind the movements. It bellowed out \"I need it\" as it scraped holes in its face while crying. It kept doing this for a while, after which it fell apart and turned into Kevin. A recognizable Kevin, but much younger. He asked me if I was there to join the rest.\n\nDr. McCormand: Younger?\n\nJake: Yeah, I don't think he's had a good grasp of the time that's passed. Parts of him do, parts of him don't. I'm pretty sure he still thinks he's 25.\n\nNOTE: Patient is 43 years old.\n\nDr. McCormand: That does not fit any description of mental issues applicable to Kevin.\n\nJake: I saw what I saw. This was the closest thing to the real Kevin I saw in there. Everything else was just...not.\n\nDr. McCormand: Perhaps we missed something. This is good to know, please continue.\n\nJake: He stuck around for quite a while. I told him I was there to try and help, set some things right. Gave him a good laugh. He said he was doomed, convinced that the life in the trashpiles called his mind was better taken care of than the real world. \n\nDr. McCormand: Trashpiles?\n\nJake: Most people have a way of spatial planning. Outside of their containers, their mind is a globe. Every globe has spaces filled with the things that make up 'the soul'. Memories, decision flowcharts, deeply imprinted values, feelings associated with memories. And it's all connected, like Christmas lights spanning from one place to the other and another and another and so on. Kevin barely had any. The lines had snapped, just withering and flailing like lightning bolts or livewires, trying to connect but can't.\n\nDr. McCormand: Do these severed connections have anything to do with his illness?\n\nJake: They either caused his issues or are caused by them. On a macro scale, restoring those would be a good start. I've mapped the usual connection in people's heads, and saw a problem. The area's some of these cobwebs are supposed to be connected flatout couldn't. Try thinking of how every lots of countries have very specific plugs and cords. A UK cord doesn't fit into an EU plug.\n\nDr. McCormand: You'd need adapters for that.\n\nJake: True, but Kevin didn't have any. And because nothing got connected, nothing gets proper input or output. It's all buildup of zones trying to discharge and damaging the container. It's the only place where they can connect, but they don't wait their turn. They just cry out for help, but don't listen. Every broken zone has figure. The dirty boy was his deepest desires. The blob appeared to be morality. The flickering fatty was his desires. The young Kevin was his memories. Plenty of other things flashed by, but I focused on the comprehensible part, young Kevin. I asked him what I could do to fix him. He said that he had a dog that got rabies once, got put down. Figured that would solve him. I told him he didn't have rabies, and part of him could still be healed. He recalled his uncle teaching him how to smoke when he was 6, how he started drinking at 8 and moved from soft to hard drugs at 12. He felt a lost cause and didn't know what to do. He then fell apart and formed himself into a naked, emaciated version of himself, whispering how he tried to stop it but wasn't strong enough. 'Never strong enough, just like mom always said.' That was.....not a pleasant sight.\n\nDr. McCormand: Please keep going.\n\nJake: I watched him cycle through more until I got the young Kevin again. He asked me to kill him. Said that he knew he would never be alright again and would prefer the quiet instead. I told him I couldn't, even if I wanted to. That upset him, as he thought that I was there as a foreign fragment to finally put him to rest. When I insisted I wouldn't do it, he turned into a giant rampaging beast and attacked me.\n\nDr. McCormand: Attacked? You've never been openly attacked.\n\nJake: Well he did. Punched me right in the face. No clue how he did it, but that knocked me right back into my senses, into the real world.\n\nDr. McCormand: That's concerning, to say the least. What did you feel when you left his mind.\n\nJake: Like being shot out of a cannonball. I might have broken something. How is he doing?\n\nDr. McCormand: He has been catatonic ever since the experiment. His eyes open and he eats, but there's nothing *there*. Just a subconsciousness making sure his heart beats, his reflexes work, the usual.\n\nJake: Did I... Has anyone else gotten in contact with him? At all?\n\nDr. McCormand: No. Jake, this was not your fault. You tried your best to fix him, but he was obviously not having it.\n\nJake: We can't just give up on people like that, Jim. They think they're beyond recovery but all we need to do is open their eyes.\n\nDr. McCormand: I agree. But you saw his mind. How long would you think this could take before he is fixed? Before he can *live* again? Restructuring is based on foundations, but to me, it sounded like those foundations are beyond repair.\n\nJake: It doesn't feel right.\n\nDr. McCormand: At the end of the day, even your power has its limits, whether you like it or not. At least for now. Maybe one day, when you're more proficient, you can go back. For now, I'm worried on whether you brought something of him with you. Something that might fester in your head that could destabilize you.\n\nJake: I'm pretty sure that isn't the case.\n\nDr. McCormand: I'm afraid I can't let you leave until we're all 100% certain. Do you understand?\n\nJake: ...Fine. I get it.\n\nDr. McCormand: It'll be a quick sweep. I'll give you the rest of the week off to recover from all of this, I'd say that's fair.\n\nJake: I still have assignments to finish.\n\nDr. McCormand: Assignments are useless and negligible if you end up with Kevin's condition. We can't let that happen. Ever. I'll pick this up with your mentor. Go and see Gabriel, he'll be waiting for you.\n\nFINAL NOTE: Kevin Holdstedt passed away on December 24th, 1999 due to a brain aneurysm. Jake successfully re-certified in a follow-up with Dr. Gabriel G. Moctezuma.\n",
"Dear Dr. Jensen,\n\nAs we had discussed earlier, today was my first time meeting with Taylor Gnerman, and I believe it will be my last. Although I am still shaken from the experience, I will attempt to describe the horrific piece of broken reality I experienced while in the dive. \n\nI was scheduled to meet Taylor for our session at 8:30 am, but was forced to wait over an hour while the attendants attempted to coax him from his rooms. I use the word coax, as Taylor had taken on his Rudrick persona, apparently a timid creature of sorts. As he was lured into his chair in front of me by offering small bits of chocolates, he stiffened at my sight, and began to become very skid-dish, hiding behind the attendant as a scared dog might do with his owner. After minutes of calming and explaining who I was, Taylor sat in the chair with legs tucked under him, darting his eyes from me to the door. \n\nAs the door clanked shut, Taylor’s demeanor changed. He began blinking numerously, shaking his head and loosening his limbs. When the blinking stopped he sat up and stared directly into my face. After a short pause I asked him if he knew who I was. He responded that he had spoken with you, and understood that I may be able to help. I confirmed his response and explained the process, allowing him multiple questions. Over the span of an hour Taylor explained in great detail how he had ended in the facility, and had major pieces of his memory missing, due to what he explained as “the neighbors”. He also explained that he respects that he has a mental condition and is dealing with issues that others do not. \n\nAfter asking his permission, Taylor explained that he was ready for the dive. I again warned him that he would wake up sick and would likely vomit or have extreme nausea. With this I began. \n\nUpon stepping through his doorway, I entered a cluttered apartment, with yellowing paint clearly from years of cigarette smoke. I could hear the sounds of cooking when a large woman in hair curlers and a pink nighty stepped from the hallway and made direct eye contact with me. This is extremely abnormal, as most entities in people’s memories never acknowledge my existence. “He’s in back”, the large woman told me with a grin. Her grin was abnormally large for someone who held a cigarette in their mouth. She pointed towards the back of the hallway and moved in from where she came. Noticing that this was the only way to walk due to the large mounds of trash throughout the apartment, I followed her command, stopping only briefly to see the impenetrable cloud of smoke filling the room where the woman entered. \n\nWalking the hallway only took a few short steps, as it was clearly a 2 bedroom flat. Reaching the end door signaled by the woman, a young voice said to come in. I opened the door to a clean room with a single bed, rainbow carpet underneath and a small desktop computer sitting in the corner. The small voice had come from a boy sitting on the bed facing the window. He had a short bowl cut of brown straight hair. “Sit”, expresses the boy and put a single hand on the bed next to him. Without being able to control my body, I was dragged towards the bed. In the short steps to sit on the bed, the boy had began removing his shirt and folded it next to him. I had reached an absolute state of panic, when the boy turned and looked deeply into my eyes. Within moments of meeting the boys eyes, I began feeling myself dragged towards him. It was as if the entire room was beginning to roll up behind me, pushing me down closer to the boy’s massive brown eyes. With a massive crash and deafening screaming I began to fall. \n\nOut of pure fear and reaction I closed my eyes and covered my face as I began to slip deeper into what I could only describe as a living nightmare. Within moments I was in complete free fall, completely unable to tell if I was falling down or rapidly traveling up. Disoriented does not describe the utter lack of understanding. After what felt like hours of fear and dread I closed my eyes and began to accept that I would be there for eternity, completely empty and out of control. Again covering my face in my hands, I began to cry. Just in that moment of complete despair a dim crack of light shone through my fingers, flickering incandescently in the grey room Taylor and I were sitting in. \n\nTaylor was staring at the floor, when he muttered, “you saw her too?” He had been crying, with large wet spots near his collar. After checking the clock on the wall, we had been speaking for less that forty minutes. \n\nDr. Jensen, although I expressed great interest in helping this young man. I have been shaken to my core by this first meeting. There is a slight intrigue in working with him again, but I don’t know if my would could handle it. I fear for this one, he scares me. \n\nSincerely,\nProfessor Scavard \n\n"
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[WP] You realize you have the power to freeze time.
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" Today started like any other day. I got up at 04:00, did the morning routine, and was off on my way to work. I ride the metro, living in big cities my whole life, I never owned a car, way too much traffic. \n\n Arriving at my work cite, I set down my bag and start to patrol the place. Half way through my patrols, an elderly man stops me. 'Great. Another homeless man wanting handouts. Why are there so many this week.' The man takes my arm in a warrior's handshake. I try to yank it back but this man has a death grip. Instantly the world around me stood still. I panicked, but realizing I could move made me feel better. I turned around to see the man was gone. In his place was my co-worker, falling from a bar. I rush up underneath him ready to catch his and the world resumes. \"Woo! Great reflexes mate! Thanks!\" He says with gratitude emitting from his voice. \"Uhh. Yeah. No-no problem.\" I set him down and we both continue one working. 'Damn that was strange' I think to myself. \n\n Nothing more happened at work today. But when I got off of the metro, time stopped again. Hundreds of people stood in place. I hadn't realized until I was at the exit and my card wasn't working. Looked up and took out my earbuds. An elderly man was about to fall down the escalator. I quickly rushed over to him and grabbed him. Time resumed and I caught the man before he was hurt. The man thanked me profusely and cursed his old age for it. I went on my way to my apartment and decided I was going to play around with this tonight. \n\n After I had eaten dinner. I proceeded to play around with my new found power. I stopped and started time my closing my eyes and concentrating. I did the same when I wanted it to resume. The only weird thing was that, the other two times had started randomly. I called in sick to work for tomorrow and decided to play around with it tomorrow. I went to bed wondering if I would ever wake up with this gone. ",
"The roadlights stop suddenly. My body feels as if it's in a non-moving car, but that's just the suspension right? No, I have definitely stopped. My friend who was driving isn't moving. Like a heart-attack, I realize other cars could still be moving on the highway; I turn to check and find them immobile as well. \"Holy shit.\"\n\nI try to snap my friend out of his stupor, but to no avail. Letting my eyes wander over our surroundings I spot a bird flying up to perch on a streetlamp. But the bird fails at any pace to roost. Has time itself stopped? I check my pulse and breathe deeply a few times. I'm fine, by all accounts.\n\nWhat could have caused this? One moment I'm reading reddit posts about michael jackson calling 911, the next I'm frozen on the highway. WAIT 911! I pull out my phone and try to power it up. I can see every individual pixel lighting up. (It's pretty fascinating by the way.)\n\n\"I have control!\" I say in a vain attempt to rally myself from a mental breakdown. Which does more than simply calm me. As soon as the relief washes over me, the lights move, I move, my friend moves. I scream a little at the shock to my senses. \"What's wrong with you?\"\n\n\"Nothing.\" I'm fine. I'm more than fine. I'm superhuman. And now, the only thing that stops me is death. But I think I'll be taking a rain check on that appointment. I have all the time in the world."
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[WP] Every child born is thought to have the same soul as the last person to have died, and is respected, despised, or expected to redeem themselves from birth as well as excel in the same areas with little review.
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"When Shawn Loomis was born, his parents had barely finished naming him before the results came in from the great ledger; his was to be a life of redemption for a petty criminal who had died in an armed home robbery turned tragically violent. \n\nThe baby was too young to understand, but the parents and the doctors knew what they were sentencing the boy to. Life, sometimes, wasn't fair - but the ledgers were not to be violated. Balance in all things. \n\nShawn was three when he learned the name of the criminal, Han Li Zhang. He had never stepped foot outside of Guangzhou, and yet a toddler who had never stepped foot outside of Maine began to learn how to formally apologize for his mistakes. \n\nBalance. \n\nYears passed, as Shawn worked to clear the debt from his ledger. While other kids played at recess, Shawn wrote essays expounding upon morality. When his classmates played football or went on dates to the movies Shawn paced up and down a twelve mile stretch of US-202 outside of Bangor collecting trash, or mowing the lawns of his neighbors. \n\nBalance. \n\nIs it any wonder that such pressures built resentment in those young souls subjected to them? Indoctrination is a powerful tool, but the ledgers were a method comprised of entirely too much stick and nary a carrot to be seen. Shawn was twenty-seven when the keepers of the ledgers declared him clear of all debts, and certified him as eligible to all rights of citizenship and childbearing. \n\nShawn took that opportunity to leave Bangor in his rear view mirror, and seek out those elements in our society which are eager to lash out at authority. In those surroundings Shawn found the opportunity he was seeking, and with the aid of seven other individuals, they successfully bombed the ledger-keeping station outside of Philadelphia. Seventeen people died, including Shawn and two accomplices. \n\nIn all things though, the ledgers seek balance. I do not know how sixteen of those ledgers will come to balance, but I do know one: Shawn Loomis' actions will be atoned for, and balance restored. \n\nThe ledgers demand nothing less. \n\n>Johannes Schäfer,\n>\n>St. Ursula Aachen Gymnasium, Grade 11 \n>\n>Letter to the Aachen Ledger Keepers\n>\n>Archive date: June 23rd, 2076"
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Source: Drunken conversations with friends.
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[WP] You walk out to your lawn to get the paper, but instead find a suitcase filled with $800,000.
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"Elation. \n\nDread.\n\nEndless possibility. \n\nEndless uncertainty.\n\nMy mind lurched back and forth as I stood in the dim light of my front porch. It was 5.30am. The sun wasn't yet up, but light was starting to peak over the horizon. The porch light was still on sensor and had flicked on when it sensed me walk onto the lawn to retrieve the morning paper.\n\nI'm not sure why I still paid for it. The local newspaper. Everything was digital now, after all, and I got most of my news from social media, or from my wife, who got all of her news from social media. Truthfully, I had just forgotten to cancel the subscription. They made you fill out a form and mail it to them, which was a pain in the ass. I intended to do it, but hadn't gotten around to it near on 8 months after coming to the decision.\n\nEvery morning was the same for me. Wake up to my annoying alarm, dreading the fact that I had to roll out of my comfortable warm bed and get ready to complete the 1 hour commute to the job I felt very ambivalent about. Shower. Put the kettle on. Walk out to the front lawn to get that stupid newspaper and, more often than not, put it straight into the recycling bin. \n\n*Fucking pointless.*\n\nBut this morning was different. As I trudged onto the lawn, blue and grey bathrobe barely hiding my genitals from the rest of the neighbourhood, the sensor light coming on caused a metallic gleam to catch my peripheral vision. \n\nUnderneath the large pine tree that featured in my front yard was a black briefcase. Unremarkable. The kind a few of the older guys at work carried with them to and from the office everyday; containing fuck-knows-what.\n\nBut it wasn't supposed to be there. It wasn't mine. It almost certainly wasn't my wife's. It didn't look old or tattered, quite the opposite. It looked brand new.\n\nI had to duck down a little to get under the lowest branches of the pine tree to retrieve it. It wasn't locked. As I crouched over the briefcase, right there on my front lawn, and undid the two silver metal clasps, the lid popped open. When I saw what was inside, my heart leapt and my mind lurched.\n\nElation. \n\nDread.\n\nEndless possibility.\n\nEndless uncertainty.\n\nThere were stacks of crisp 100 dollar bills, maybe 50 to 100 of them. They weren't neatly positioned either. They were sort of strewn about the inside of the briefcase, like they'd been thrown in there haphazardly. \n\nIt oddly made sense to me too.\n\nYou see in older movies, briefcases full to the brim of stacks of bills - $1 million or some other large but not ridiculous number like that. Then the newer clever movies have characters that point out that $1 million in bills doesn't actually take up that much space; much less in fact, especially when the bills are larger denominations. That's what I was probably looking at - roughly $1 mil.\n\n*Where did it come from?* \n*Whose was it?* \n*When was it put there?*\n \nMy mind raced through the possibilities, flashing from one to the next without structure or organisation. \n\nMaybe it was put there by a benevolent, rich old man (or woman) who'd noticed that I was a good man, trying my best to support my little family whom I loved deeply. Perhaps they wanted to give some of their fortune to someone less...fortunate. \n\nI felt elation. \n\nWhat a gift I had been given! I thought of the endless possibilities. Pay off our debts, get a new car, fix up the house, remodel the kitchen and bathrooms just like Nina and I had wanted.\n\nMy mind lurched. \n\nMaybe it was drug money, or ransom money, thrown there by a dangerous, violent criminal. A quick stash that they'd be back for shortly.\n\nI felt dread. \n\nHoly fucking shit! I thought of the endless uncertainty. It was a much more likely scenario and if I kept this money then me and my family were in serious fucking danger, and would never know when we'd have to confront it or who it would come from. \n\nAll of these thoughts occurred over the span of a few seconds. The competing emotions made way to simple anxiety. All I could say out loud was \"what the actual fuck?\"\n\n\"My client's noticed you over these last few months\" a calm, deep voice said from behind me. The unexpected sound made me jump in fright, like a small child caught doing something naughty. I very nearly pissed myself, which would have been extremely noticeable considering I had nothing on under my bathrobe, and so the piss would have just dribbled down my bare leg and onto the grass.\n\nI stood and turned to find a man standing on the lawn, about 10 feet from me. He must have been in his mid 40's, roughly 6'1\" - 6'2\", with greying dark hair that was slicked back. His face had hardened features, with small pock marks that I wouldn't have noticed if not for the angle at which the porch light was hitting him. The short stubble on his neck and chin suggested he hadn't shaved in at least 2 days. He wore a dark jacket over a t-shirt, and dark jeans down to Navy blue sneakers. Despite his long clothes, it was obvious he had a powerful frame.\n\n\"Sorry, didn't mean to scare ya\", he said apologetically. \n\n*Where the fuck did he come from?*\n\n\"What do you mean your client has been watching me?\" I shot back, trying to hide the fear and anxiety I felt. \n\n\"Whose your client?\" \"Who are you?!\"\n\n\"That's not important\" the powerful, deep-voiced man said. \"She's noticed that you're a good, kind man, and she wants to give you this gift.\"\n\nI relaxed a little, and allowed some of that elation to return as I started piecing it together in my mind. Apparently it *was* a gift from some rich, benevolent stranger. \n\n\"Well...fuck yeah\" I said as I looked down at the open briefcase of money sitting at my feet. The second I took my eyes off him, the man leapt towards me with lightning pace. In an instant he had closed the distance between us, whipped a dark object out of his inside jacket pocket, and was bringing it, clenched in his fist, crashing down onto my forehead. \n\nThe impact dazed me instantly. The world flashed white, and then went dark. I slumped to the ground. My forehead was simultaneously numb and immensely painful.\n\n*Click* *click* *click*. I heard the three metallic clicking sounds at the same time as feeling three powerful impacts in my chest. Then pain. Unimaginable, searing hot pain.\n\nAs my life flowed out of me onto my front lawn, I heard footsteps from the direction of the pine tree where I'd found the briefcase, and another voice I didn't recognise say \"poor bastard, died with his balls hanging out for the whole neighborhood to see\".\n\nThe powerful, deep-voiced man gave a quick laugh. \"Let's get the fuck of of here\" he said, \"Danny's gonna want her money back\".\n"
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[WP] Seasons switch only once every ten years. Children born in winter will be used to the harsh winters and children born in summer are used to the extreme heats. The season is about to change once again...
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"\"How do we tell them?\"\n\n\"We h-have t-t-too\", stuttered the head astronomer, shivering in his heavy fur shawl. A middle aged man, he was born during the '88 bloom. Now in his mid forties, he had just completed his first cycle. Though he was head, the majority were frostborns, and hence the astro building was fortified from the weather with an artificial, yet a violently frigid control system. Elder Snawf, the man who observed the runaway stone, sat opposite the head astronomer, Reichedos.\n\nThough way below zero, the room was somewhat heated with tension. All the people in that room, amongst the brightest minds on the planet, were struck dumb by but a sheet with dots.\n\n\"Thanks for the libew juice, Mrs. Chrily!\"\n\n\"You like?\", said Mrs. Chrily in her thick accent, \"Libew from village, much sweet today!\"\n\nMrs. Chrily wore a mask of age on her face. She was a bloomchild, born in '83, but was from a tiny village south of the world capital, and had to move to the city as a slave to survive. Though the lack of proper shelter hit her hard as seasons changed, even more so struck poverty, so she learnt to adapt quickly. She was a rare breed, efficient in all the seasons. \n\nEmployed by the household Snawf, she was treated with respect uncommon for slaves. She was fond of young Ginko, Elder Snawf's grandson, who was fond of her too. \n\n\"Don't you think it's not that hot today Mrs. Chrily?\"\n\n\"Really? No difference.\"\n\n\"That so?\"\n\nThe Snawf household was one of the oldest in the world capital. It's walls flaunted intricate carvings into stone no longer found in the world capital, reminiscent of palaces of high nobles of yore. There were a few windows, but they were small, allowing limited light to spill in. Though built during the winter, it serves as an excellent summer home as well, as it kept the inside of the house cool. It was a bit far from the observatory though, so Elder Snawf had to leave early in the morning to get to work on time. Unfortunately for young Ginko, he had the same destination and no vehicle to carry him through the heat. Being a fallborn he was used to optimal climate, not the heat which ran rampant outside. Still, he had gotten used to the chilling environment his grandfather would make, so he had learned to adapt to changes too.\n\nDrudgingly, he walked to the observatory. It was hot, but the sun wasn't shining as bright as usual.\n\nHours had passed since Elder Snawf's discovery, and the season houses had been informed.\n\n\"What? But it's mid summer?\"\n\n\"Due to unforseen circumstances it cannot be helped.\"\n\n\"That's crazy. Our stores would never hold out that long if it's due next week.\"\n\n\"We know. It's up to you to decide how we deliver the message to the people.\"\n\nAt the same time, the schools were being informed about the events that had transpired.\n\n\"Next week? Is this some kind of joke?\"\n\n\"Would the World Capital Observatory be joking, madam?\"\n\n\"But we don't have time to prepare. We have to erect the stormwalls. The playing fields are to be customised. The students, oh the students. Most aren't even old enough to experience something so drastic.\"\n\n\"It is out of our hands. We need help.\"\n\nSomehow young Ginko made it to the observatory, now feeling like an ice cube in an oven, he mustered the strength to swing open the doors.\n\nHe rushed up the stairs, ran passed the empty rooms, and into the main hall, where everyone had gathered. He pushed the doors open and strode in covered in sweat \n\n\"What's up, gramps?\" He said casually.\n\nAll eyes were on him for a moment, till they eventually turned away.\n\n\"Oh it's only Ginko.\"\n\nGinko was studying astronomy under head astronomer Reichedos, and was supposed to be in the observatory hours ago. He overslept.\n\nBy now, Reichedos forgot the chill due to the prevailing tension, which Ginko noticed, as he was usually shivering in the temperature Elder Snawf had established.\n\n\"Hey, come here.\" Reichedos signalled to Ginko, \"do you know why our seasons change once a decade?\"\n\nHe was a bit scared, thinking that the man would get a bit violent.\n\n\"That's because of our non constant orbit pattern, right?\", replied the boy promptly.\n\n\"Yes, but there's another reason. We orbit two stars. One much hotter than the other.\"\n\n\"Oh yeah that too, hahah my bad.\" Ginko was unaware of what happened, and was speaking so normally that it ticked some of the scientists off a bit. He breathed a sigh of relief, though, to know that Reichedos wasn't mad as he would be after a morning of tardiness.\n\n\"Okay, so we are here right now\", said Reichedos drawing the map of their solar system on a sheet of paper, \"and what season is it?\"\n\n\"Summer.\"\n\n\"Yes, and what do you imagine would happen if a very heavy meteor were to pass\", he paused to draw a bit, \"like this?\"\n\n\"Um, I suppose we'd follow?\"\n\n\"Yes, most likely.\"\n\n\"What's this for, professor?\"\n\n\"You'll know. What season would it be if this happened?\"\n\n\"I don't know, winter?\"\n\n\"Exactly. Now one last question. What do you think of this?\"\n\nGinko looked at the paper handed to him. His smile withered away as he stared at it.\n\n\"One week?\"\n\n\"We're already in motion.\"\n\n______________\n\n(I have little to no idea about planetary orbits and if anything like this would be possible or not, but it's fiction so anything goes hahah. Criticism welcome :) )\n\nEdit: minor changes\n\n"
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[WP] There it is again. The nightmare. You've had it so many times, you have learned to wake yourself up before the killer even gets into the house. Except this time, you realize you cant wake up because you aren't asleep.
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" \"I wish for you to serve me till I die\" yep that was the fifth time a human did this to me. Before they would ask for their three wishes and be happy but apparently they've gotten smarter. Anyway \" your wish is granted\" I said. The person I was now serving was a lady in her mid 40s. She was nice compared to others. \n You see my only ( magic ) power I have is stopping time. I can only grant wishes trough physical means. So if you ask for a million dollars I'll go to a bank and rob them or print them, whichever is easier. So when this ladies second wish was world peace; well let's just say this will take a while. \n\n",
"I toss and turn in my bed at night. I turn to look at the alarm clock sitting at my bedside table. 2:03 am. I have to go to bed eventually. But the thought of having to face another terrible nightmare keeps me awake. It was the same nightmare that occurs every time I close my eyes. I'm sitting on the couch in my living room, when all of a sudden, a sense of dread overcomes me. Something is telling me to look out my window, and being the inquisitive person I am, I obey. But I always regret it. As I look out I see a man wearing dark clothing, wielding a knife in his left hand. I look away for a slight second, and he's gone, but then all of a sudden a knock on my door. The knock turns to pounds. I keep yelling, \"Go away!\" He doesn't. The pounding gets louder and louder. I can't take it anymore. I cover my eyes and scream, \"GO AWAYY!\" all of a sudden, it was silent. So silent that you could probably hear a feather drop to the floor. The silence is ruined when I hear my front door slowly open. I turn my head to face my eventual killer, but then I wake up. I'm back in my bed and I'm covered in a cold sweat. A sense of relief has overcome me, but I still stop to wonder why this dream has occurred so many times. I turn to look at the clock again. It's 2:45. \"I have work tomorrow, I should sleep\" I think to myself. I close my eyes for about 3 seconds it seems when I hear a knock at my door. In that moment, I assumed I was back in my reoccurring nightmare, but it was strange, when I was dreaming, I was always on the couch when I heard the knock, not my bed. I decided to follow my usual routine of telling the man to go away. Except this time, something was off. I didn't understand what it was, but this dream was just different. The pounding gets louder as usual. I continue screaming at the man to go away. I usually didn't wake up from my dream until the man is in my house, but tonight, I couldn't wait for that to happen. I didn't want to keep reliving this nightmare. I had read somewhere online that if you find your bed somewhere in your dream and fall asleep, you will wake up in real life. So that's what I did. I found my bed and over the loud pounding on my door, I thought to myself , \"go to sleep, go to sleep, go to sleep\" And I did. My alarm woke me up at 8:13 am and the man was gone. That morning, I went to my kitchen, poured myself a bowl of cereal and turned on the morning news.On the tv, the anchor woman says, \"Breaking News: Family found dead after masked murderer breaks into their home. The police are investigating the situation and have said that the murders occurred around 2 am this morning.\" All of a sudden, that feeling of dread that occurs in my nightmare overcomes me again. I look out my window and police cars are scattered in the yard of my neighbors. I went outside to ask what happened. Apparently, a masked murderer broke into their house and murdered the entire family. I haven't had the dream since, but now and then, I still feel like I can hear that eerie pounding on my door.",
"\"Quick, I need to lock the door three times\" I remind myself as I travel towards the oakwood door in haste. In one swift moment, The first lock was in, a loud clang heard as the lock dangled in midst of the chains. In quick succession, two more locks placed . I placed a my hand on all of the locks and tugged. Sure enough, That door was secure, meaning that any time now I would be back up in a few. I glanced at my surroundings one more time. No doubt, the same marble walls and gilded roof, the curtains drawn across these gigantic windows and with a peculiar but fantastic pattern, lines intertwining and a sharp black and white border.\n\nThe same setting was something I had found much comfort in, because this entire room was better than my house. No doubt if I had the choice, I would be living here, but the imminent danger of the lunatic right outside changed my views. I obviously wouldn't enjoy watching myself be a canvas for a masochist, waving his knife over my mutilated corpse.\n\nI heard footsteps coming from behind the door and felt a shiver down my spine. \"Any minute now\" I said to myself and the reaffirmation helped me regain my confidence. I stood there in the vast room, completely stuck, unable to move . The footsteps sounded much more distinct than I remember. Certainly I would wake up soon right?\n\nA second gaze around the room just to entertain my suspicions. The same stripes on the curtain, but they appeared sharper then usual, and not hazy. I counted my fingers, hoping to see six or seven or one twenty four, at this moment I was hoping for any sign that this was a dream.\n*one two three four......five*\n\nA bell rang, and as my gaze shifted towards this sound, and looking towards this steampunk clock, The large hand pointed towards twelve. I slept at eight. \n\n\"Oh no\"\n\nI examined the door, and the locks were closed around the chains, surely I would be secure Unfortunately I was too slow to realize that what I was facing was no ordinary occasion. If I got here without waking up, A few locks werent going to protect me from what ever malevolent creature stood behind the glistening oakwood door.\n\nA noisy thud, and the door began to open slightly.The chain knocked aside, broken, impotent. I lunged at the door, and with all my might pushed the door close. In response I felt loud bangs on the door, the lunatic slamming at the door. The impact I felt was beyond humanly, and it was too difficult for me too handle, but I remained adamant. This... THING was not going to be the end of me.\n\nSuddenly, It stopped. The footsteps started sounding fainter as it went further and further away. I let out a huge sigh of relief but it was too soon.\n\nAbout a split second later, The creature charged, and knocked the entire door off along with me. In absolute shock I looked up, quaking. A dark figure with a tough physique stood above me, with a grotesque stance. My attention diverted towards his sharp and elegant knife. The crisis was looming, and I was surely done.\n\n\"Fuck me\".\n",
"There’s a thunderstorm tonight. The rain is pouring, the thunder is rolling, the wind is roaring. I can hear the surrounding trees outside all dancing about wildly, but this doesn’t scare me. It’s actually a pretty soothing white noise for when I’m writing on my bed. The room is comfortably lit with some wall lanterns around the room.\n\n*THUD THUD THUD*.\n\nThose three terrible thuds. Oh shit. Oh shit, I’m dreaming again and I forgot to skip. Typically I just wake myself up by saying it aloud. Alright Jess, you already know you’re dreaming. “Wake up.” No dice. Come on, Jess, come onnnn! “Wake up, WAKE UP!” I can’t.\n\nCan’t wake up. *Knock knock. Tick tock. Your killer is almost here.*\n\nI hear the entrance door slam open suddenly. Either this is the worst timing to not be able to wake up, or this is real. Either way, I will not die again. *Alrighty Jess, keep your cool, just keep your cool. Nobody ever gets out of these situations by completely losing it. Okay, what do I grab, what do I grab?*\n\nI open the drawer next to my bed. A screwdriver? Last time that happened, he swiftly dodged my overhead strike, nabbed it from my hand and stabbed me in the stomach, coating the floor in my blood. That’s a no. The only other things in here are a brochure and a Bible. The brochure never mentioned killers in the woods. And I don’t really read the Bible, so I don’t see how it would help me right now.\n\nI remember I have a bat in the closet and quietly grab it. Creak, creak, the floorboards taunt as my killer makes his way to the room. I creep up next to the doorway, and wait. The door opens painfully slowly. *Almost there, Mr. Killer, just step a liiittle further, and WHAM, you’re dead. Just please don’t kill me.*\n\n*Please wake up.*\n\nHe opens the door, and I begin swinging. “What the hell do you want from me, you sick bastard!” He catches the bat mid-swing and tosses it aside. *No. No no no, this was my one shot.* He walks towards me and the space between me and the wall behind closes. “No. Not like this.” I bump up against the wall. “*Stop! Why are you doing this?!*”\n\n“I’m not trying to kill you. I need your help.”\n\nThere’s something different about this nightmare gone-real. My killer needs my help? And his voice was oddly feminine. As he—er, I guess, she— stops a couple feet before me, I notice that the small serrated dagger at her side that I’d seen previously in my nightmares is absent. There’s a certain.. familiarity about her. The voice, her small figure. The *shoes*.\n\n*Purple gumshoes.* When I was younger I found some nice looking pairs of gumshoes, one pair a perfect crimson red, and the other a brilliant lilac, both with white laces. I chose the red ones.\n\n“A pleasure to meet you, Jess. Glad I could finally get in touch with you without a Dreamscape!” The mystery woman behind my nightmares removes her hood and smiles.\n\nShe knows my name and I know hers.\n\nIt’s… it’s *me*.\n\n---\n\nSmol sidenote: I just made this alt, as I'd like to try some writing now and then. This is my first WP response. Hope you like it :) \nEdit: formatting",
"\"Okay...this time he won't be able to kill me because this time I will kill him. \" I said as I remembered my past nightmares.\n\nThe killer was walking...the floorboard creeps as he put weight in his steps. I can see him carefully checking each room calling for my name.\n\nMeanwhile I was holding a knife, waiting in the kitchen. I've been dreaming of this for a while now so this is where he should be going next.\n\nThe moment he opened the door I sinked the knife into his flesh and the middle of his chest.\n\nI picked another knife and striked him in the head.\n\nAfter this I realized three things.\n\n1. This is not a dream.\n2. Looks like I can predict the future.\n3. I just killed my father.",
"My mind is but a den of nightmares, a cursed, wretched thing that haunts me as I sleep.\n\nThey come the same, upon a night of rain and thunder. A kind of chilling unease that I am not alone, even in the lonely house within which I dwell.\n\nFirst it strikes the lights, and sends me into the dark. The last thing I see is the seven-fourteen of the alarm at my bedside, and then darkness. There comes the occasional crack of thunder, and with it, a fleeting light which does little to put me at ease.\n\nThen there comes a knocking, not upon the door of my home, but the window beside that which I sleep. I turn to face it, as always, and see no figure, but fear nonetheless. I know not at the time that a figure lurks outside my dwelling, not unless my mind clears just enough – if only to let me see the nightmare for what it is, for just a moment.\n\nMy phone does not work in those moments, whether by will or by fault. The screen reads as no legible script, and the faint light which emanates from its metal confines does not light my surroundings in the slightest.\n\nLike many times before, I choose not to carry the phone with me as I pace the halls of my family home, long since handed to me by a father long since passed.\n\nThe flickering shadows of the trees dance upon the walls as I make my steady waltz, part of me knows not to fear the branches, but a flicker of mine eye reveals a figure cast by shadow, only visible in a time when I held little focus.\n\nThen comes the doorknob, rattling with a thunderous might. And like many times before, I take this as my cue to leave, to force my mind to break free of its own prison. But unlike the times which I had fled from so easily, there comes no respite from my nightmare, and instead; the door swings open.\n\nThere comes before me a stranger, shrouded in black and woe.\n\nAnd as he advances, I hope that my nightmare ends soon.\n\n* * *\n\n/r/khaarus",
"He is coming.\n\nThe flickering of a single fluorescent light in the hallway. The winds beat against the windows, howling murder. The owl calls. I counted four hoots, to a rhythm I have etched in my heart. Make no mistake: My killer is coming.\n\nSweat begins to bead on my forehead. I subconsciously draw my arms in toward myself, breathing shallowly as I vainly hide beneath my sheets. I know hiding won't work. It never did.\n\nI heard the distinct creak of the floorboards leading to my bedroom, creeping towards me slowly, pealing my impending doom. I know if I do not wake myself up now, it will be too late to escape death.\n\nIn a well-practiced manner, I grab my arm, squeeze my eyes shut and pinch down hard.\n\nBut when my eyes open, the warm pierce of morning light does not welcome me. The wind still howls, the dark of night still covers my room. And my killer is still inching towards my room, each step echoing murder down the hallway.\n\nTerror has come upon me now. I shake within my bed now, praying for someone to come save me. That somehow, someone will know that a murderer has come for me, and will sweep in at the last second to rescue me from my would-be assassin.\n\nMy prayers appeared to be in vain, as the creaking continued to march towards my bedroom door. Finally the door began to creak open, the flickering light beginning to stream into my room.\n\nSuddenly, a small voice calls out to me, telling me something. It sounded alien at first, but an equally alien feeling quickly grew within me.\n\nIt was a voice of assurance. That I would be somehow alright.\n\nI suddenly remembered what I purposed in myself for this moment, what needed to be done.\n\nAs the door finally lay fully open, I pushed the headboard, and a shotgun came barreling out of the hidden compartment. In a swift motion I brandished it and let off a warning shot at my attacker's feet.\n\n\"Get out of my home!\" I roared.\n\n\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\n\n/r/Script_Writes",
"At first it was a vision, a random collection of ideas, a feeling that I woke up with. Reality flooded back to me leaving me with only pieces of a story. Although I'd like to believe that I brushed it off easily, it left a mark. It was kind of like the feeling of an aftertaste, except it was a stain on my composure. I was left uneasy, unsure of myself, at least for a while.\n\nIt was back soon. A strange sense of déjà vu was all I felt before my mind began to process the rest. Unlike the dreams I normally have, I only could remember small details at a time. There was a cold atmosphere, footsteps echoing. Something crashing, breaking. It always feels surreal, not like a dream, something even more abstract than that.\n\nI called it my \"exergasia\", a repeating idea that seemed to become clearer each time. Each repetition seemed to bring a new understanding. The day I wondered if something malicious was haunting me was followed by the night that I heard the footsteps grow near. I heard every step getting louder and louder, in a manner that felt calm but eerily unnatural. I managed to force myself awake when the door opened.\n\nThe dream felt more solid since that point. It was no longer vague. I realized that it took place in my own home. Thinking about it now, I'm sure subconsciously I knew it did before that day, but it was jarring nonetheless to know now for sure. I wish I could describe the primal, irrational terror that I felt each time from that point, but other than the noises and the feint crack of light caused by the door opening, I was left, both literally and figuratively, in the dark.\n\nThis continued for a while, although I can't say how long it's been. Time grew fuzzy with my lack of sleep. I began staying up, reading, studying chess, anything to keep my mind off of the unexplained horror I felt. When I did fall asleep, I managed to wake myself up shortly, dozing off for a few minutes at a time, keeping myself distanced from some moment I desperately wanted to avoid at the end of the dream. That was then. I feel calm now. The night the dream described happened and came to pass. At first I thought it was a dream again, but the noises felt louder, my panic felt real. My head ached and my arms shook sporadically. A slender figure emerged from the door, his footsteps becoming loud pounds. I tried to look at him, to see what I've been fearing for what must be months now, but I couldn't. I can't explain why, but I just was simply unable to keep my vision fixated on the figure. At some point during the creature's approach, I realized that I was screaming, but the world started to feel distant, everything felt muffled behind an excruciating headache. I was convinced that that creature, whatever it was wanted to harm me, likely even kill me. It's not just a feeling, it's instinct. Please. I urge you to sign the attached letter to have me released from this ward. I can't remember what happened that night, but I know it's still out there. I can feel it. I can hear the pounding, echoing, and the rage of that supernatural beast and I need you to help me be free. I'm sorry I hid this from you, I hope you understand now. \n\nLove, Dad"
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[WP] You were on your way to a party when a car crashed right in front of you. In that split second, you entered a parallel universe with no humans, rid of any development or progress.
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"They fight. They fight because she's a bitch and he's a \"weak piece of shit with penis envy.\" \n\nIn the light streaming from the dashboard, Gordo's Face looks purple, and the little squiggly green vein in the center of his forehead pulses. Martha hopes, God, Martha wishes, it would fucking explode. \n\nShe pictures blood dripping from the windshield and a look of surprise on his fat pasty face. Maybe he'll feel sorry. Maybe it'll be somewhat painful, but over quick. \n\n\"You know, you only say that penis thing because you want to fuck Toby and everyone knows---\"\n\nAnd before he finishes the car crashes into the brightest light, Martha has ever seen. \n\nStops might be a better description. \n\nThe halt is violent either way, and Martha lets out an eardrum destroying screech that is part frustration from Toby being right and the result of the removal of all normality. \n\nFrom night, on their way to a party, driving through a little Upstate village, to being wrapped in a wash of yellow streetlights. There had been the smell of potential snow on the air now it's the sulphur-stench of decaying plant matter. The windshield is a sudden mess of cracks. Steam jets from the engine under a crumpled hood. Surrounding is hazy puke green daylight and thick forest.\n\nThen she turns and a hard frost blooms in her heart as the new normal shatters.\n\nThis is what takes it beyond comprehension. \n\nInstead of Gordo and his slightly lazy eye and right temple covered with psoriasis, she finds the owner of the strong hand pressing her back into her seat.\n\nToby asks, \"Are you okay?\"\n\nMartha stares, mouth hanging open. She realizes, but before clicking her jaw shut, she says, \"Yes,\" quick and breathless. \n\nToby searches her face maybe for an indication she is hurt, maybe because he likes the way she looks. Satisfied either way he lowers his hand, and she feels the burning impression it makes between her cleavage. \n\nToby nods at her, smiling. It's the same little-crooked smile that she has always wanted to lick off his face. Skin crinkling in dimples and sunlines. Of course, Gordo is right, of course, she wanted to fuck Toby. Everyone who ever met Toby wants to fuck him. She half expected Gordo wanted to fuck him, himself. \n\nWhere is Gordo, she wonders not out of concern, but because she is ready to tell him that he was right and look him in his little-boring-blue eyes as she walks away arm and arm with Toby. She can still smell the wafting stench of old garlic, that sat heavy on the last whining complaint Gordo uttered. \n\nShe finds her mind racing for other things she could use to hurt him, but Gordo isn't sitting next to her. \n\nToby is. \n\nHe pats her knee and smiles, and all the anxiety floods out of her. His door won't open, so he kicks the windshield free and climbs out of the car. After a moment, to make sure her heart was in fact not going to explode, she moves to join him.\n\n\"Here take my hand,\" Toby says from the hood. \n\nShe grabs his hand, and he wrenches her up to his side. She isn't sure if it's the thick almost edible humidity or his raw power that takes her breath away. The air is like wearing a thick hot wet coat, and his button-down blue oxford soaks in sweat already.\n\nShe leans in when he puts his arm around her shoulder. She needs to feel protected because what the actual fuck.\n\nA load screech shakes the leaves of the surrounding forest. The mist swirls as the sound disturbs and a beautiful blue sky shines through along with the terrifying shape of a pterodactyl.\n\nShe and the bird lock eyes, in the black-soulless glint she realizes she is dead and this hell. \n\n\"God damn you Gordo, I hope you are here somewhere also.\" \n\nToby bodily turns her and begins to run, hobbled by inches of black gloopy mud. They make little progress and the flying lizard issues one more screech as if laughing at them and flies off. \n\n Then there it is. \n\nShe points. \n\nIts a sparkling smear in the mist. It grows smaller.\n. \n\"Hurry, it's closing,\" she yells, assuming correctly it is the way home.\n\nAnd maybe they could have reached it if she hadn't tripped and fallen on top of him. \n\nThe mud is hot and stinks like rust. A small pool of water fill around them as they lay there. \n\nShe looks up and watches the portal pop out of existence altogether, the last thing she sees burning a hole in her brain. Gordo in his car alone driving along happy as can be singing Taylor Swift at the top of his lungs. \n\nNo, she decides, that was hell, and she rolls off Toby. \n\nHe climbs to his feet and helps her to hers before turning and running toward the treeline. \n\nMartha follows, giddy knowing this reality is already shaping up to be better than anything she could have ever imagined. "
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[WP] When you die, you face a trial to decide if you are worthy of entering paradise, going to hell, or being reincarnated. 'They' decide this by looking back at your life and seeing how many times you made selfless decisions... This is your 999th trial and your last chance to get into heaven.
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"I woke up I was sitting at a table with a beautiful women in front of me. As a gentleman's intinct(ehem...might just be me) of course my first decision was to hit on her.\n\n\"Good day lady. If you kidnapped me here so we can have an alone time. I ain't complaining.\"\n\n\"You sure about that?\"\n\n\"Of course, why wouldn't it be?\"\n\nThat's when she changed herself into a skull! She turned into a skull with a black hood on! I tried to stand up from the seat but my butt wouldn't leave the seat as if it was glued there.\n\n\"Is this some sordid prank?!\" I shouted.\n\nThe skull reverted back to it's beautiful form but that nasty image isn't leaving my brain anytime soon.\n\n\"If you don't want me to repeat that, I suggest you become more cooperative.\" she replies.\n\n\"The hell!\"\n\n\"Ohh...Is that where you would like to go?\"\n\nI didn't seem to get it but after she had told me everything, proving me wrong everytime I tried to prove it was just a silly prank. I sorta got convince that...I..was..really...dead...\n\n\"No, I can't be dead!\"\n\n\"D'you want me to prove you wrong again?\"\n\n\"Try me!\"\n\nI got a big scythe through my chest after that.\n\nAnyway, I was told that this was my 999th trial and with how I have been acting...I might never get 1000th chance.\n\nHowever, Astraphe(Her name as she said) told me that they didn't want 999 in their list, cause 999 flipped is 666 and y'know what they say about that number...\n\n\"As I was saying, I was sent here to give you counseling and to make it sure you realize that this is your last chance. You need to fulfil your mission and graduate this time since in your past life you never got to do that..D'you understand?\"\n\n\"Understood.\"\n\nAnd just like that I was born again and the most preculiar thing I felt was... \"Where is that thing between my le....oh shit! I'm a girl.\"\n\nAnd so the peril starts.\n\nSo I was saying. Life as a girl isn't that hard. I was born into a loving family. My mother was a worrywart but I love her. My father was a lot busy but treats me outside from time to time, reminding me I should not have a boyfriend yet.\n\nAnd I'm like \"Dad, don't worry I ain't thinkings about that yet. Your daughter a good girl.\" and he seem to be satisfied hearing that.\n\nBut the truth is...it's probably in my advantage that I was a guy first. I know in this time and age, when a guy tells you he loves you. It's probably either...\n\n1. You're Bangable! And I wanna bang! Bang!\n2. He wanna shoot in the ring(I meant Basketball, definitely basketball!)\n3. It's a Dare.\n4. He wants other guys to look at him and say...ughh that lucky bastard! Hanging out with mahh...crush.\n\nNot all guys, but I'd say majority of them are like that especially this modern day. It's not being feminist too, I just know these things as experience and not to say that girls ain't like that. Like, I seriously heard mahh girl classmates yesterday talking about Man abs and how the guy he was dating was good in bed. Like really? D'you realize how young we are...you people seriously...\n\nI guess the maddening thing and hardest part of being a girl was the menstrual cycle. Seriously, to girls out there how do you get through life with this burden? You are literally bleeding down there and it freaking hurts and the mood swings oh my gosh! How even? What even? And I'm suppose to have this every month? God, please give me a break. *cries in the corner*\n\nEhem...so what I'm trying to say is that everything is going alright and it's starting to worry me. Isn't this suppose to be my last chance? My last trial? Why are they going easy on me...wait, why am I overthinking this? If they wanna go easy on me then It's good for me.\n\nBut do I even want to go to heaven? I mean, the only reason I don't wanna go to hell is that religions says you will suffer again and again there. It's not that I don't wanna go but to be honest I'd just like to rest if that time comes. Y'know just sleep and rest cause living is quite tiring at times?\n\nAnd in Paradise you have to be nice all the time, don't you? You can't commit crime and stuff like that? But what if you did? What will happen th...ughh! What's with the overthinking?! God! It's hard being a woman.\n\nAs I was walking to home from school. I was about to ride a taxi due to the swarm of people and late time(I have a curfew) when I spotted a woman.\n\nThe woman looked similar to the girl who talked to me in the purgatory(I assume) and I don't know why but I followed her. I just wanted to.\n\nI swam in the crowd of people as I try to keep track of her when I saw a very familiar alley.\n\n\"Shoot! (My new replace word for Sh** since that's a bad word) that was where our gang used to hang out on when we were bored!\"\n\nThe girl looked around and at her clock, seemingly worried. I looked at it too and realized It was already pass my curfew. I mentally slapped myself. I tried to get closer and I heard her voice.\n\n\"**** I'm late, my dad's gonna beat me when I got home.\" Oh...we have the same problem, huh?\n\nWait, what the heck am I following her for anyway?...I should be home and ohh! The alley! I must stop her!\n\nReality slapped me so hard when I realized she's not there anymore...\n\nUgghh!!...why did I monologue earlier instead?! I swear I'm gonna quit monolouging.\n\nI stopped midway running though...remembering I was a girl. Sure, I know a little Karate! Hyah! But with my body build and if I remember correctly...mah Gangtah Members are all buff. I'm just being honest here...I won't stand a chance.\n\nI was alreading turning around considering to walk away from that scene as it was the most logical thing to do...my annoying conscience stopped me.\n\n\"Hey! Are you gonna help that girl? Doesn't she mean anything to you?!\"\n\nAnd I was like...\"Chill mahh conscience, I know you being nice and all but I can't take those guys. I might just put both of us in danger as the worse case scenario and I got my Momma and Papa waiting for me at home probably angry cuz I'm already pass my curfew! And the boys probably ain't there, let's just go.\"\n\n\"Don't you JaZz me! I'm your conscience and I say that, the girl might be in danger and she needs your help. It maybe a bit futile to help sometimes but it's worth trying.\"\n\nAnd I said \"Fine! Fine! Mahh conscience... You da boss now.\"\n\nAnd so I did...and I was right when I thought it wasn't a good idea.\n\nShe was being cornered by the boys.\n\n\"Don't you dare touch her Sigfred, John Port, Roman, Dimus and Laurence!\" Snap! I'm not suppose to know them.\n\n\"Hey, lookie here...another lost girl.\" that's good...none of them caught that WAIT NO THIS IS BAD! THEY KNOW NOW THAT I'M HERE!\n\n*Pulls out cellphone!* \"Don't come near me! I just dialed 911 and I'm gonna call the police.\"\n\n\"We would have been done with the two of you and escaped by the time they get here.\" Oh snap! He's right!...come one...Yuna! Think!\n\n\"Please, don't hurt me...\"\n\n\"Oh, I like girls who beg.\"\n\nI must have gave them the impression that I'm a fragile young woman(Which is good) but Unfortunately, I ain't! I'm going to fight back!\n\nSpeaking of which, as a former guy I know all mens weakness.\n\nSO I KICKED HIM IN HIS NUTS!\n\nI escaped through the side he wasn't blocking and I threw my bag as strong as I could to \"Dimus\" cuz he's the one in front of the girl.\n\nThat gave me a way to pull her and run away from there. I know the Alley very well so I just knew that I can get us out of there quick...Oh shit! I forgot to take my bag! My purse was in th....no don't turn back just focus, run and never look back!\n\n\"Quick! They are right behind us! And btw, thank you. You were very brave.\" the girl earlier said to me.\n\nI looked at back at her and...\n\nBUMP!\n\n\"Ouch! The heck is th....\" I was surprised when I saw another guy.\n\n\"Don't let them escape!\" Laurence shouted.\n\nThe other guy pointed a gun at me and...BANG! BANG! Two gunshots...and yes I was shot...\n\nWho's that guy? Is he my replacement? Now that I think about it, we have a \"Don'hurt women or children\" and \"Don't use a gun\" policy. Did this guys got worse without my supervision?\n\n\"HELP! HE SHOT HER! HE SHOT HER!\" The girl earlier screamed. I realized we were already near the end of the alley and it just so happened that there was a police car parked at the alley exit.\n\nThey seemed to have heard her as the officers went out of their car and pulled out their guns.\n\n\"Oh shit! The cops!\" I heard the guy said.\n\n\"Don't die please...don't die...\"\n\nWas is everything so blurry, white and slow. Ohh...I'm in the emergency room.\n\nI looked at her, she was at my left. I seemed to have lost my hearing. I can hear what she's saying but she still looks beautiful so that's okay...hehehe...and wait, is she crying?\n\nIs it because...am I gonna die again? Ohh...this was a short life... *tuunt* I never got to thank my parents *tuunt* They were so nice to me. *tuunt* and I never got to ask her name. *tuunt* she was an angel *tuunt* Do I like her? *tuunt* Isn't it a sin to like the same sex? *tuunt* I don't care...she's safe so that's okay. *tuunt* Oh...I never got to graduate. *tuunt* Does this mean I'm going to hell? *tuunt* \n\nWait...so I gave up my chance to go to heaven because I got a crush on this girl? What a romantic way to go to hell...\n\n*tuuuuuuuuuuuunnnnnttt*\n\nAnd so I'm in that room again...the girl was in front of me.\n\nWaaahh!!! I'm still a girl! and I'm not glued to the seat anymore. I'm standing up! Wow!\n\n\"How was it?\"\n\"Huh?\"\n\"You're last life.\"\n\"I'm going to hell, aren't I.\"\n*Silence*\n\"Silence means yes...I'm ready.\"\n\"You seem more cooperative.\"\n\nI just nodded at her.\n\nShe showed me a door. Never saw that before there. I peeked and it's all white.\n\n\"This doesn't look like hell\"\n\"Who said you're going to hell?\"\n\"Well, I'm a lesbian and...I dunno. I wasn't able to fulfil my mission.\"\n\"Since when did Love and Helping others became a sin?\"\n\nAs she said that she started to close the door behind me...\n\n\"Wait!\"\n\n\"Thank you btw, you were really brave.\""
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[WP] Mirrors have never been a perfect reflection for you - but the differences were trivial, like a children's "Spot the Differences" picture. Lately, though, the changes have been getting more severe and sinister.
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"I can't say how long I've been like this, cursed to see what others can't or won't. The first time I noticed it was about twenty years ago. I was maybe seven when a teacher, Mrs. Steiner, took us on a school trip to the local fair. There was a mirror house, and of course we went in for a laugh and a thrill. Some friends and I went to those mirrors that distort your body and face, make you look all funny and deformed. We were having fun with that, until I stood in front of one that seemed to work a little different. I could see myself just as I was, but everyone else around was just... off. Not distorted, not funny, not weird. Just off. A friend's skin would be brown instead of white, the teacher's wedding ring would be missing, the tall trees at the back gone from the reflection, a clown's painted smile replaced with a frown. I didn't say anything, but I did have a lot of people check the mirror themselves. They all told me the same thing: \"I think this one's just a regular mirror.\"\n\nAfter that it was impossible not to notice the same effect on every single mirror I looked through. All of them would have someone, or something, gone, replaced, or otherwise changed from the original version. I think what scared me the most was that, maybe this had been going on long before I even noticed it. It made me feel oblivious, made me doubt everything I thought I knew about people. I did my best to ignore it, which is to say I did everything I could to avoid mirrors. An useless endeavor, as it seemed my curse included any sort of reflecting surface. Still, I learned to live with it. Never mentioned, never bothered.\n\nLately the mirrors have begun catching my attention again. They seem darker, more shallow even. Almost as if the reflections might bump into each other as they walked around busy sidewalks and loud streets. People look less like people sometimes, too. They walk about, hunched over and covered in rags, turning away from a burning wind that turned trees into ash. One of those times I stood in front of a restaurant for over five minutes, just staring into the reflection and creeping out lunch-goers inside. I felt a hand on my shoulder bring me back to reality.\n\n\"Noel?\" a woman, well in her fifties, cried with a wide smile. \"Oh, my god, it *is* you! My favorite student of all time! I never would've expected to see you on this part of town! How have you been?\"\n\n\"Mrs. Steiner, it's been ages!\" I replied, trying to look more surprised than scared. We hugged as old friends, though a sense of dread washed over me.\n\n\"It's Ms. Leah, now,\" she said, showing me her left, ringless hand. \"Got divorced. Bummer, huh?\"\n\n\"Oh, wow,\" I said at a loss for a better response. Everyone back at school knew her husband was a cheating pig, though no one had the courage to say that to her face. \"Guess that... sucks?\"\n\n\"No, no, best thing that ever happened! Mr. Steiner can look at all the young ladies he wants, see if he doesn't end up in jail for it, the old pervert. And here I am! Free and beautiful,\" she cackled loud enough to attract the attention of those passing by. I smiled, if only because it felt nice to see life had worked out for her in the end.\n\n\"Anyway,\" she blurted out after a moment of silence. \"I'm expected down the street. We should catch up sometime! I love hearing what my old students have been up to.\"\n\n\"Sure, I work at a lab up there,\" I said, pointing toward the high-rise at the end of the street, casting its shadow cold and dark. \"We can meet up for lunch anytime you're around here.\"\n\n\"Oh, will do,\" she smiled. \"Big fancy science corporation, that one. Moving up in the world. You always had a knack for that kind of thing. Well, better run along! Don't wanna be late!\"\n\nAnd with that she was gone between the crowd. I stood there for a moment. My mind lingered on thoughts of the world I could see through the mirror. I thought of all the things I didn't understand about it, all the details I must've missed, the truths I might have witnessed without ever knowing. I regretted not paying more attention to the reflections, as I remembered the time I was seven and saw Ms. Leah's ring missing from her finger in the mirror at the fair.",
"It started off extremely minor.\n\nA small twitch of the eye.\n\nA quick flare of the nostrils.\n\nThe thing is...I was 99% sure that I wasn’t actually doing these things.\n\nEither the mirror was showing a true reflection, and I just wasn’t noticing myself making these micro-movements...Or I was actually going crazy. I was 1% sure that I was going crazy. Mental illness did run in the family after all.\n\nIt wasn’t really that noticeable over the past year, I mean, how much time does one actually spend in front of a mirror?\n\nMorning wake-up routine? 5 minutes.\n\nWeekly shave? 10 minutes.\n\nGym vanity check? Couple minutes max.\n\nNot exactly a lot of time to carry out a full in-depth analysis of reflections, but just enough to notice that something was slightly off.\n\nSlightly off. That was a good way to put it. To be honest, I’ve been feeling slightly off this past year ever since my best friend passed away.\n\nJerry was a great guy, one of my best college buddies. Kids at college always made fun of his twitches, but man did he have one of the most devilish smiles which would make any girl melt. \n\nWe used to go the gym together nearly every day. If it wasn’t for him, I wouldn’t be in the best shape of my life. It was actually in this gym where I became 1% sure that I was going crazy.\n\nEvery-time I’d check my form in the mirror, I could catch myself winking at myself for a split second. It was like catching someone pulling faces at you out of the corner of your eye, only for them to have straight face when you focus your attention on them.\n\nThis went on for a few months. The winking became more pronounced. It then developed into a twitch. My own reflection had a twitch. What the hell. The worst part of it all? No one around me would even notice. Not even when they were standing next to me facing the same mirror! \n\nWas it just sheer coincidence that people would always miss these events in the mirror? Think about it, how much time do you spend looking at somebody else’s reflection? Most people have eyes on themselves only.\n\nI tell you what, shit’s been getting creepier the past week. To add to the twitches, I swear my reflection has now developed a devilish smile.\n\nI miss you Jerry.",
"\"The first time I noticed that every day my reflection was different, I was eight years old. It was startling at first, but the changes weren't drastic. Even made a game out it.\"\n\nThere came a muffled noise from somewhere.\n\n\"No, nothing like that. I was more interested in anticipating the changes. After a few years though, it was no more than routine.\"\n\nOnce more that muffled noise. The camera in the corner of the room picked up movement in from the deep shadow that engulfed the opposite side of the room. A full corner of the interrogation room was shrouded. A cherry ember of a cigar came to light for a moment, then dimmed. From that mass of darkness, came a cloud of smoke.\n\n\"It was the scales, actually. You know that area underneath the eye? It reminded me of an emerald python scale I had once seen at a museum.\"\n\nThe room was rectangular in shape, typical setup for its intended purpose. The difference was that the entrance was a hidden blast door. The one-way window made of a material that could withstand a nuclear blast.\n\nAnother muffled noise, but this time it had a slight higher pitch to it.\n\n\"I thought it looked kinda cool. You see, by that time, I had understood that no one else could see the changes. Even if they looked at the same mirror I was looking at. To them, I was just me. Regular, without anything strange to be concerned about. I learned fairly early on that you didn't want your parents to think you were going mental.\"\n\nBright cherry red, a drag that lasted a little longer than before. The instantaneous dimming, that choreographed with an exhale of haze and smoke.\n\nThis time, the slight higher pitched muffle, had a little more substance to it, almost like a whisper, \"...were you afraid of being sent to an institution?\"\n\n\"No, it wasn't that kind of fear. I just knew instinctively that I didn't need that kind of attention. Not yet, anyway.\"\n\nThe silence that followed was heavy. Lasting for a full three minutes. In between that time, there came the cherry red glow and a stream of smoke.\n\n\"What do you mean by, 'Not yet, anyway.'?\"\n\nA small chuckle echoed throughout the room, \"Exactly as I mean. It wasn't the right time. As you can obviously tell, now is.\"\n\nAnother voice spoke, though muffled like before, it only came through as a whisper, \"What is that you want?\"\n\n\"Personally, I'd like another cigar. Professionally, I'm waiting for the Harbinger within me to sing out it's song ***That. Only. I. Can. Hear***.\"\n\nThere was another pause, and another voice came through the air, \"What significance is there to that title? That Only I Can Hear. What does that mean?!\"\n\n*That voice was far more excited about the question, more animated. My vessel could feel me stirring, my slumber was almost coming to an end, and it pleased me so.*\n\n\"You're asking me boring questions about the Harbinger within me. What you should be asking is. Why is this time important.\"\n\nThe sensation was muted at first, much like the sound of thunder from within a building. Then, came the rhythmic beat. A slow, purposeful procession. Strong, and heavy. Strong, and heavy. The perfect cadence of slow arching metronome. It became the fabric of the room, the very essence of the one within.\n\nThe cherry red came to life once more. An impossibly long drag.\n\nAn impossibly long exhale.\n\n\"Now.\" The voice within the room was different, deeper in resonance. A voice that made the very molecules of the walls and glass reverberate, \"Hear me, O mortals and tremble. For the Ancient of Days is upon you and with me, Death.\""
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He was old enough to taste the oil on WWII anti aircraft guns.
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[WP] I was volunteering at the hospice and one of the old guys there told me “I know it sounds stupid, but I’m looking for a box, I’m looking for it so I can check if what’s inside it is any different then before”. What’s the story behind the box?
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" I was making my rounds, as I always do on Tuesday afternoons, stopping by all of my favorite patrons first. \n\n*\\*Knock knock\\** “Hi Grace! How are you doing today?”\n\nA frail voice responds, “Susie? Is that you? I need to speak with your mother. The drapes she has chosen for this place are really quite dreadful.”\n\nAs I laugh, I respond, “There’s always something to complain about with you, isn’t there, Grace? But sorry, I’m not Susie. I hear she’s planning on coming up to visit in a few days though! I’m Mia, just checking up on you this afternoon. How’s everything going?”\n\n“Oh, Mia. You’re the pretty one that comes on Tuesdays. My golly, is it Tuesday again? No dear, I’m fine. Did you say my Susie is coming sometime?”\n\n“Yes! I think I overheard some of the nurses mentioning she was planning a visit this weekend! That should be exciting. It’s been a while since she’s come by.”\n\n“Yes, she just got a new job, so she was mentioning how the hours would be a little difficult to balance. I do miss her though.” \n\n“Oh Grace! I know you miss her, but don’t be sad! She’ll be here before you know it. And until then, we have tons of things you can participate in! I think they’re starting a round of bingo in fifteen minutes, do you want me to take you down so you can play?”\n\n“Oh Mia, that sounds lovely. I would really appreciate that.”\n\nGrace was my favorite. She had family that visited her quite often, and although she often was sad when she was lonely, she was easy enough to cheer up. She absolutely loved bingo—something I will never understand. Maybe it’s an age thing? Perhaps once you hit 75, bingo suddenly seems like the best game in the world? Don’t ask me. It seems like all of our patrons loved the bingo games. \n\nWell, everyone except George Polanski. Mr. Polanski was a class of sad and bitter all on his own. He never had any family visit him, and he seldom left the confines of his room. I always put his room at the end of my list. \n\nI took a deep breath to stabilize myself and I read the note on the whiteboard outside his door. “Under the bed” was all that it said. *\\*Knock knock\\** “Hey Mr. Polanski, it’s Mia. How’s it going today?”\n\n“Help! Help! I can’t find my box! I’ve searched everywhere! I need my box!”\n\n“It’s okay Mr. Polanski, it’s okay.” As I was getting down on my hands and knees to reach under his bed he frantically yelped,\n\n“No! You don’t understand! This box is my only connection. I need to check inside it to see if anything has changed! You are not helping me. No one here understands.” And then he started haphazardly throwing his drawers open and pulling everything out of them. For a man approaching his late 80s, he had a surprising amount of agility—which always meant a bigger mess for me to clean up when this episode ended. \n\nI pulled the box out from under his bed and said, “Mr. Polanski, you can stop ravaging your drawers, I found your box. It was right here, under your bed.” As I handed the box to him, I braced myself for the worst. \n\nI have taken care of the elderly for a long time. I can handle dementia, bodily fluids, angry outbursts, loneliness—the whole nine yards. Working with Mr. Polanski wouldn’t be so terrible if it wasn’t for this moment right here. For as long as I’ve worked here, he has always been looking for his box, ripping the place apart until he found it. A couple of months ago, the nurse on this floor came up with a glorious idea. He said every time we leave Mr. Polanski’s room, we should offer to hide the box for him and then write the location on the whiteboard outside. Now, the only mess that is made is in the first few seconds it takes us to reach the hiding spot, instead of Mr. Polanski shredding the whole room to bits because he can’t remember where he put the box. No one has figured out the significance of the box yet, but it is universally agreed as the worst task any of us have to do. \n\nNormally, Mr. Polanski receives the box with a sigh of relief. He swiftly settles down in the ratty old recliner in the corner of the room and holds the tarnished, chipped box like it is the most precious thing he has ever seen. He always has a tiny, hopeful expression on his face as he gently opens the box. And every, single time, he expectantly looks inside the box and then all the hope drains out of his face. His eyes fill with sadness, and sometimes, he sheds a few tears. His shoulders hunch over and he looks broken and dejected as he closes the box, leans his head back, and eyes closed, sinks deep into the chair. \n\nMy heart shatters a little every time. I always give him a few moments, and then walk towards him. “Mr. Polanski, would you like me to keep your box in a safe place?” He doesn’t move from his disparaged position, but he allows me to gently take the box from his hands. And then I find a new place to hide the box, clean up the mess, and write the new location on the board outside. Every single time, it’s always the same routine. I remember peeking into the box when I first started working here out of sheer curiosity, and I distinctly remember being unimpressed. Imagining some sort of memorabilia or photograph or anything sentimental, I was disappointed to see nothing but a small red light. \n\nExpecting the same dreadful disappointment, I handed Mr. Polanski the box and braced my heart. He took the box and settled down in that same ratty old recliner. He opened the box with that hopeful, little boy expression. I closed my eyes—I couldn’t bear to see his heartbreak for the millionth time. \n\nBut this time was different. I heard a small gasp from the corner of the room and quickly opened my eyes to see Mr. Polanski smiling with tears in his eyes. It was the first time I had ever seen him smile in my year of working here. He looked across the room at me and through the tears he said, “She’s finally ready.” And this time, still holding onto the box, he leaned his head back, closed his eyes, and with a smile, sank into the chair one final time. \n\nI ran over to the recliner and looked inside the box—the light had turned green. ",
"Lilac.\n\nThe dress was lilac. \n\nWhen the doctors first told me about the news, I was saddened, but not devastated. It's the price you pay for living to such an age. They reassured me that it would be slow. So slow, that I wouldn't even notice.\n\nI may not have been happy about the news, but I was at least relieved that no one I loved would remember me as a shell of my former self. She lived a long happy life too.\n\nI've begun to notice the changes. Today I struggled to remember what my childhood dog Spencer looked like. Was he a border collie, or was he an aussie? It pains me to not be sure anymore.\n\nLooking at the black-and-white picture, I recalled the day we spent together that culminated into this etching. She had a lilac dress on, and I was nervous that I didn't dress well enough for the occasion. She didn't seem to mind. Something about her always made me wonder how I got so lucky. Maybe it was the way she smiled as if she had a question on her mind, or the way her eyes soothingly looked at me after a bad day.\n\nWe went out to get ice cream, and being the clumsy person I was, spilled some on her dress. I was scared that she would yell at me, or hate me, but she just laughed it off. I said sorry again and again, but she kept insisting it wasn't a big deal. The dark stain seen in the picture still reminds me of how clumsy I was back then.\n\nI sighed with relief, and put the picture back in the box. The emotions I felt about the day were different from before. And as long as the picture still gives me these emotions, I suppose life is worth sticking around for a little longer.",
"He was old enough to taste the oil on WWII anti aircraft guns, and it was weird to think that he wasn't patient but another volunteer. \n\nWe had not yet found the box, but knowing the layout of the area after having clean the damn place so many times, I found it easy enough. A dark, wooden box. Not sure why he brought it with him, but at the very least I had found it. I didn't meant to shuffle it, but while walking it seemed that it was full of paper by the sounds the contents made. \n\nHanding it back to Mr. McKierny, he took the box and quickly opened the box up. Laying the box itself on the shelf, he went to an old stained paper. \n\nHis eyes began to squint. He poured over what was written. \n\n\"I'm just checking.\" \n\n\"Is there a hidden message?\" \n\nHe looked at me for a moment. \n\n\"Invisible ink?\" \n\nHe shook his head and his eyes refocused, \n\n\"No, no no,\" McKierny said, \"It's that... She told me she'd be waiting for me back in Georgia, back at Benning.\" \n\nI'd never heard as much from Mr. McKierny before, \n\n\"I wrote to her when I could. I got two letter back from her and the last one told me that she was waiting. And you know, after I got back I was wondering if I read the letter wrong. Maybe I'd wake up one day and I'd be able to realize that I went to the wrong place, she had moved, she had given me a Dear John letter, she had said something, anything but I'll be waiting for you.\" \n\nThere began to be tears that built up over the wrinkly and leathery edges of his eyes, \n\n\"I just keep reading and checking to see maybe if today will be the day I realize what she actually wrote me. And it's not today either...\"\n\nHe put the letters back in the box. He put the box under his arm. Then, he slowly shuffled out, lost in thought and in the world. \n\n"
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[WP] Spiders have started to hunt in sometimes Ant colony sized packs to take down larger prey. More specifically... humans.
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"You hear the rustling first. The sound of thousands of tiny legs marching towards you. At first, nobody even began to realise. Sure, they thought it was strange that a few spiders banded together. I remember, before this whole thing started, I saw 4 or 5 spiders group together to take down a cricket. It was only when they started to consume birds that people began to notice. It was just an interesting story, nothing major. A filler on a slow news day. We never thought that it would become anything else. \n\nBut then its prey got bigger – small mammals, amphibians, that kind of thing. Then the first attack happened. A Thai man, trekking through the jungle. They only found his bones, covered in spider webs. That’s when people started to pay attention. \n\nBy the third attack, this time a lady in New Mexico, action had to be taken. A policy of extermination was followed, but it was already too late. These spiders knew that they outnumbered us a million to one. \n\nI was the last hope to stop the spiders. Sitting in a dank cave in the Thai/Laos boarder, I almost had the solution. There had been reports that a bigger, lone spider found these colonies of ants irresistible, and, fortunately, only these ants. The killer spiders were exclusive to this region, until a stupid tourist thought that they would look nice back home. With no natural predator, the population grew exponentially. If it was possible for me to replicate this predator spider, I could save us all. \n\nThat was the plan – until my foot became stuck in loose bracken. I knew my time was numbered. They were already coming, one or two that I easily swatted away. But I could hear them. They were just scouts. They needed to feed there queen. \n\nThis is my first story - feedback appreciated!"
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[WP] Humanity makes first contact with extraterrestrials and the world leaders choose you to speak alongside them with the aliens for the first time and glorify the successes of Earth's nations. The only problem is, you're a libertarian and don't agree with what they're doing at all.
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"I stood alongside the mob bosses, erm, I mean, heads of state in the conference room. There were several hundred of them, all gathered together from the world's most powerful Governments. Of course, given the state's desire to increase it's power whenever possible, once it was revealed that extraterrestrials were to be making first contact with humanity, they decided to establish their dominance over us to the alien race. How ironic, what should be one of the greatest scientific acheivements in human history; dominanted by politics and people who are very obviously not interested in scientific progress and far more interested in their own pockets and power.\n\nIronically, these people decided to have a spokesman selected from the population of Earth to speak about the successes of their states. You know, even as incompetent as the state is, I was estranged by the fact that they had been so foolish as to chose me. Although this was obviously a political ploy by them to maintain their power over both the human race and establish it amongst aliens, they had somehow chosen to pick a representative of humanity that was against their very existance. They could have easily picked a statist that supported their actions whole-heartedly. But noo, they picked me of all people to glorify them. \n\nIt was really only a joke that I had submitted an application for this role to them. I was surprised when I got called for an interview, but figured that it was probably a simple mistake that would be corrected afterwards. You can imagine my surprise when I was called to do this. They said something about \"respresenting alternative opinons\" or some bullshit, but I knew it was simply beureacratic idiocy and incompetence that had landed me in this position. \n\nNow I'm here, standing in an assembly hall preparing to glorify the acts of the largest criminal gang the world has ever seen. \n\nThe aliens were due on in 10 minutes. I could only hope that a race intellegent enough to traverse the stars was also capable of create a society free of states. If we were *very* lucky, they might teach us a thing or book about free markets and finally liberate the world of these stinking torture states. But I doubted that even an alien race was capable of separating people from their worship to them. \n\n\"Alright, everyone get ready\", the assembly head said to the people gathered in the hall. \"We'll be recieving contact any minute now, so be prepared\".\n\nThe assembly was to take place at the United Nations building in New York. The podiums at the front of the room had been roated to face a cameral and projector at the front of the room. That way all of the leaders of Earth's nations could face the aliens simeltaniosly, with myself the most powerful ones having a center spot.\n\nAs the remaining technicians and assemblers scrambled around the room, ensuring that everything was properly laid out, the assembly head shouted what we had all been waiting for. \n\n\"The contact is here, make sure you all look your best during it!\", he said as the projection on the screen entered into a video conference. \n\n\"Hello humans!\" the alien said as he appeared on the screen. \n\nHe looked surprisingly similar to a purple bonsai tree that had happened to grow into a shape that could be recognized as an intellegent life form. There was only a white background behind the alien. No tools or anything that could identify their exact meathod of use for their many limbs and tendrils. \n\n\"We have come on behalf of our planet's Emporer\", \"Oh, god damn it\", I thought to myself, \"... to expand our culture and bring our technology to you! We wish to discuss many things in this meeting, such as your people's culture and abilities!\"\n\n\"Of course, we will discuss many of such things today!\", said the president of the United States, who had the most centeral location in the assembly hall, \"But first, allow us to explain to you the layout of what we have here. The five people on on this stage consist of the leaders of the four most powerful nations of Earth! I am president of the United States of America, to the left of me is the president of the People's republic of China, the two people to the right of me are the president of Russia and head of the European Union. And of course, the fifth person on this stage is humanity's ambassador, a man who has been selected for his qualities to describe the greatest acheivements of the human race! Behind us are the leaders of the remaining 188 nations of the world.\", the president concluded.\n\n\"Excellent, and I am Berham Lennoeroan from the planet Hereoshe. I hope this contact will ensure peace between our races for centuries!\", he said.\n\n\"Yes of course, we shall begin our meeting with a statement about humanity from our abassador.\" The cameras in the room pointed at me as I looked down at the prewritten speech that had been prepared for me. However, seeing my chance to finally effect the states of the world, I chose to seize the opportunity.\n\nI stood up and looked at the camera. \"Look dude, the people in this room are the leaders of the state. The state is the largest criminal organization this world has ever seen. For thousands of years, they have comitted and glorified mass murder, enslaved other human beings to expand their own power, and extorted us of our property since the dawn of civilization. They are incompetent mass murderers who are the lowest scum of humanity. If you want to see the best of humanity, read a book by Murray Rothbard or Ayn Rand and don't listed to the bullshit of these idiots.\"\n\nI'm sure I just caused about a billion people around the world to gasp. Although I couldn't care less about it. I walked out of the assembly hall without a care in the world, out the back door and to my car, avoiding the resporters which were swaming the front. I drove right out of there, looking up at the alien ships in the sky and millions of automated drones exiting from them.\n\n\"Serves them right I guess\" I thought as I turned away from my usual route to home and out to the country, figuring I'd be better off sitting through the invasion there.\n\n\n\n\n\n"
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[WP] Someone very dear to you has just illegally harvested one of your organs against your permission for their own personal gain. When you find out, they apologise and beg for your forgiveness, but you're too focused on getting it back inside you before you die.
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"I stumbled out of the taxi and into the pouring rain, my feet hardly touching the asphalt before the driver was pulling away, his hand out the window giving me the finger. They really don't like it when you bleed all over their seats.\n\n\nWe were on the very bed of the city; deep in the shadows of the mega-scrapers, below even the mass of concrete flyovers and bridges that were the city's capillaries. This was rock bottom. No one came here with good reason or intentions. Which is exactly why my brother was here.\n\n\nA cluster of Scags were hanging on the corner, plying trade and eyeing me suspiciously. I could tell what they were thinking; not a cop, but something. I let my raincoat open a little, the streetlight rippling off the contours of my handcannon and they immediately found more interesting things to eye instead.\n\n\nChango's Bar was across the street. The name splayed across it in lurid neon letters. Faux holograms dancing. Like someone had mixed up half a bowl of tech with half a bowl of smut and then applied it with zero finesse. I splashed across the road through puddles, weaving clumsily through the speeding scooters that infested this level.\n\n\nI pushed open the doors and staggered into the bar, doing my best to ignore the lance of pain that speared through my side as I did so. This was not the kind of joint where it paid to show signs of weakness. \n\n\nHowever tacky Chango's looked from outside, it was nothing compared to the monstrosity that it was on the inside. Deepmix reggae thrumming at a level designed to vibrate bones, a chrome bar with robo-waiters, whirling strobe lights, and gen-modded erotic dancers doing stuff with a cattleprod I'd love to be able to unsee. And there, in the midst of it all, was the unmistakable bleached blonde mohican and skull tats of my baby brother.\n\n\nI pushed slowly through the crowd, ignoring the sharp looks and occasional hisses. Came up behind him while his attention was on the dancers and then grabbed him around the neck, pulled him hard across the room and into booth that was occupied by two middle-aged guys with expensive suits and two girls in silver microdresses maybe just old enough to be legal. Two uptowners slumming it and enjoy the benefit of wealth. I slammed my brother's head down hard onto their table and glared at the booth's inhabitants.\n\n\n\"You need to. Fuck. Off.\" I said, taking care to emphasise the last two words.\n\n\nDown here for the thrills, this clearly wasn't part of the deal and they were sliding out of there and scurrying away as fast as they could manage. Off to complain to someone, no doubt. Maybe fetch security. Maybe call in some private security of their own. Neither of which would be a good idea for them. I shoved my brother into the booth and pulled my handcannon.\n\n\nIain looked up at me, eyes swimming with some stim or twelve, while his hand went to his nose. It was broken, blood trickling it where he'd hit the table face first.\n\n\n\"Dude,\" he said, wincing as he touched his face, \"you broke my nose!\"\n\n\n\"I broke your nose? I broke your *nose*? You stole my fucking kidney.\"\n\n\n\"Ah bollocks,\" said Iain, turning his head away \"I was hoping you wouldn't notice.\"\n\n\n\"Hoping I wouldn't notice? This isn't when you used to borrow my jacket when we were kids. You cut me open and took my kidney. How was I not going to notice?\"\n\n\n\"I remember reading you can survive with only one kidney.\"\n\n\n\"Not if you drug someone, cut them open with a fucking kitchen knife, and then leave them bleeding out.\"\n\n\n\"Oh,\" said Iain, as if the thought that this could be problematic had never occurred to him, which it probably hadn't. \"Sorry dude.\"\n\n\n\"Sorry dude? That's it?\"\n\n\nHe spread his hands apologetically, \"What more can I say?\"\n\n\n\"You can start by telling me where my kidney is.\"\n\n\n\"Well,\" he said, biting his lip slightly, \"First of all I wanted it for myself.\"\n\n\n\"Why?\" I asked, not sure I wanted to know the answer. \"Why would you want my kidney, Iain?\"\n\n\n\"Well, I figured three kidneys I'd get a lot less drunk. Maybe I could enter a drinking contest, make some money. Shit like that.\"\n\n\nIt took all my willpower not to just shoot him, brother or not. I'd be doing the gene pool a favour, I was sure.\n\n\n\"Give it back.\"\n\n\n\"Yeah,\" said Iain slowly, \"I said that's what I *wanted* to do. Turns out hooking up a third kidney is really expensive. And the doctor said that it wouldn't actually make any difference to how drunk I got. But he *did* have an idea how I could make some money...\"\n\n\n\"Which doctor? What idea?\"\n\n\n\"I don't remember his name, was operating out of a medibus. Chill dude.\"\n\n\nI took a deep breath and would have counted to ten but the pain in my side was getting worse. The spray-sutures weren't meant for this kind of a workout.\n\n\n\"What was the idea, Iain. What did you do with my kidney?\"\n\n\n\"Well, it turned out it was a match for a transplant. Doctor thought it was some kind of miracle; some guy looking for a new kidney but their off-shelf grown wouldn't work. There was some science stuff. But he was willing to pay a lot for it. I mean a *lot*.\"\n\n\n\"Which guy. Which guy has my kidney. I swear, if you don't tell me what you've done with it I'm going to shoot you right now, brother or not.\"\n\n\n\"Ivan Smirnov.\"\n\n\n\"Ivan 'The Shark' Smirnov?\"\n\n\n\"Yeah, that's the one.\"\n\n\n\"Ivan 'The Shark' Smirnov, Russian mafiosi?\"\n\n\n\"Yeah,\" nodded Iain. \"That's him.\"\n\n\nI sighed. Tonight was growing worse by the second. \n\n\n\"We good now?\" Iain asked.\n\n\n\"Are we good?\" I looked around, then back to him, \"Are we *good*?\"\n\n\n\"Yeah.\"\n\n\n\"No, we're not good Iain. You drugged me, cut me open, left me bleeding on my kitchen floor, and sold my kidney to a fucking Russian gangster. We are not good.\"\n\n\n\"What can I do to make it up to you?\"\n\n\n\"For a start, you can wire me the money you got from that doctor. I'm going to be paying Ivan Smirnov a visit, and I'm going to need to buy some far bigger guns than this...\"",
"Now that all women are infertile, the world has focused its attention on the longevity of its current population. People are no longer a means for reproduction but an asset to be preserved and maintained.\n\nMy organs are worth more individually than my body as a whole. And so are yours, and so is Jacks. And Jack's liver is failing. But his liver could pay off your mortgage. \n\nNobody has the technology to grow artificial organs, but they can restore them. See, when someone dies. Their body is carefully dismantled, and their organs are put through a restoration process. If you have the money, you can buy these organs and either hold them in an organ bank or have them inserted inside of you.\n\nOrgan rejection is solved. You get a brain transplant. The most complicated and expensive of options. Only the richest can afford it, and its only preformable twice. The restoration of the brain causes the loss of consciousness from the mind. After the second time, a dramatic change in a person's thoughts and memories occurs.\n\nWhat people don't realize is the human body's will to survive. You can survive without 45% of your organs.\n\nStart with the simple stuff, lose a lung, a kidney, your spleen, appendix, tonsils, and your gallbladder. How about your adenoids, you don't even know what that is. But you don't need it! Let's shake some lymph nodes, the fibula bones from each leg and six of your ribs.\n\nReproduction, they are the cheapest of organs. Your uterus, ovaries, and breasts. Guys, your testicles, and prostate. They're still only crucial because of hormones, but not essential. Hormone therapy can replace them.\n\nIf you start using technology and medication, you can cut out your stomach, colon, pancreas, salivary glands, thyroid, bladder, and your other kidney! Yes, your other kidney. With a surgeon's hand, we'll amputate all your limbs, scoop out your eyes, blow the nose off, slice the ear, rip out your larynx. Sythe your tongue, remove your lower spine and pop your rectum out.\n\nIf we threw you in intensive care, we could crack off your skull, pump your heart out, and that other lung? We could take that, for a little while anyway. But that's extreme, and dating a surgeon is excellent because you learn all this.\n\nUntil that one day he wakes up with cancer, and you suddenly become a commodity.\n\nIt's even better when he wakes up in an intensive care unit as an unresponsive shell of a human. Love.\n\nThe only real struggle is learning how to pee with this thing.\n\n**Edit:** I don’t know if the ending was confusing. The protagonist had a brain transplant with the husband, so the husband is in the protagonist’s body within the intensive care unit. "
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[WP] on 28jun2009, Stephen Hawking threw a party for time travellers, then claimed no one showed up. After some of his possessions are donated to your museum, a lost video recording of the party is discovered. Everyone gathers around to watch.
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"\"Why is this so important?\" John said, rolling his eyes at their newest archivist.\n\n\"This is from the Hawking estate. He donated all his things except his money and house to the museum remember.\"\n\n\"Yeah, So?\"\n\n\"Well, this tape is dated June 28th 2009.\"\n\n\"Yeah, his time-traveller party joke. No one showed up.\"\n\n\"Exactly, except look at the screen, five people, Dice, AR projections of fantasy creatures on the table at about model scale. And, look closer do you recognize the person sitting at the head of the table.\"\n\n\"Is... Is that Gary Gygax... Didn't he Die in 2008?\"",
"Everyone gathered around the screen, eagerly anticipating what was to come. John, in particular, was very nervous. Having worked with Hawking in the last few years of his life, he had gotten close enough to the renowed scientist for him to confide secrets to him. And one of those secrets had been especially tantalizing: he had deliberately lied about something major in his life, and possessed a video to prove it which would only be released after his death. \n\nHand trembling, he put the DVD in, and pressed \"Play\". The video opened up with Hawking sitting in his wheelchair, in a room that for some reason had a boom box positioned behind him, talking through the robotic voice that was so familiar to everyone. But what he said was a total shock. \n\n\"Ha ha ha, did you really think time travel existed? Didn't you rubes listen to what I said? It's impossible to go back in time!\" They were beginning to pull away, bitterly disappointed, but were stopped when Hawking said \"but wait, there is one thing you'll be shocked by in this video.\" Still bitterly disappointed but intrigued, they sat as Hawking said \"I faked the whole ALS thing.\" Then, in a natural and not robotic voice, and with his mouth clearly moving, he shouted \"NOW LET'S DANCE BITCHES!\" Suddenly, he jumped up from his chair and ran to the back, turning on the boom box, which played out a very familiar 1990s tune.\n\nAll were speechless as Stephen Hawking danced the Macarena.",
"Lauren held the DVR up, quizzically gazing at the scrawl on the top. It showed 28/7/09. As students of Hawking's life and work we all knew that it was the date of the famous time traveller party held at Gonville & Caius College, Cambridge University. \n\n\"It's the original!!\" Gavin said. \n\n\"I suppose it might show something a little different.\" Lauren murmured. \n\n\"It could be good for visitor numbers.\" Gavin said. \n\nOf course a recording of the party had already been seen by millions, as shown on Hawkins's documentary 'Into the Universe'. But we were eager to see if there was something, anything that might interest us. \n\nIf I were to be truthful I'd admit that the 'Museum of Time' didn't have many worthwhile exhibits and the right kind of unseen Hawking footage could, as Gavin rightly pointed out, boost our meagre visitor numbers. \n\nWe went down to the basement, Gavin, Lauren and I, and set up an old DVD player. As we sat down to watch Gavin cracked a joke about evidence of the existence of time travellers. No one laughed.\n\nLauren pressed play, the screen flickered into life as we sat down. We all knew the setup of the party- bottles of Krug champagne, finger sandwiches, a large banner saying 'Welcome Time Travellers.' But the picture that greeted us was different. It was still Hawking's room at Gonville & Caius but it was nearly completely empty. No bottles, no banner, merely a rather old fashioned room with a sofa, two armchairs and a high table and it was empty save for the furniture. A low buzzing sound came from off camera and in time Hawking's wheelchair rolled into view and stopped in the centre of the room.\n\n\"This isn't the party.\" said Lauren. \n\n\"Let's just wait and see what happens.\" I said. \n\nHawking's chair sat stationary for 5, 10, 15 minutes. Not a flicker of movement came from the chair, the only clue that the recording was not stuck was the occasional voice that came from the wheelchair. Odd words, nothing of any sense, he merely appeared to be passing time. In time the robotic voice started to recite a rhyme- \n\n\"I would like to time travel\n\nTo see the future me\n\nWouldn't that be great\n\nTo see what I will really be.\n\nI could travel to when I was eight\n\nTo see all the things I've done\n\nSome are really boring\n\nBut most of it are fun.\n\nI could travel to the day I'm an Adult\n\nTo see how many things I know\n\nBut no need for that\n\nI'll just wait until I grow.\"\n\nThen from off camera we heard the unmistakable sound of a slow clap, the even and monotonous noise was unmistakably sarcastic.\n\n\"Well done Stephen.\" Said a voice from off camera, the voice was that of an adolescent male, not an adult. \n\n\"You came.\" The robotic voice replied. \n\n\"Yes, yes I did. Who knows the cost.\" The adolescent said.\n\n\"I can guess,\" Hawking replied. \n\n\"No you can't. No one can.\" The voice said. \"Butterflies Stephen... Butterflies. We know what you said, 'where are the tourists from the future?' What would people think if they knew that we're in the bodies of their children.\"\n\nThe voice from off camera continued: \"It's time to stop now Stephen, you are revealing too much too quickly. The answers will come.. in time.\" This was accompanied by a strange giggle. \n\nThere was a pause. Hawking's shoulders seemed to sag, as if slumping. \n\n\"You're right, I know, I've known for a while.... Are you going to kill me?\" He asked. \n\n\"No, but we do have a number of favours to ask of you. Papers to write... seeds to sow if you catch my drift.\" The owner of the voice came into shot, the back of his head visible and the outline of his profile but no more. \"We'll be in touch.\" The teenager then moved out of shot and we heard the noise of a door shutting. Hawking's wheelchair moved towards the camera and in time the screen went blank.\n\nStunned silence. Gavin took the DVD out of the machine. We all understood the enormity of what we had just witnessed. Gavin's hand tightened around the DVD and in a swift flick of his wrist he snapped it clean in half. He turned to look at me. \n\n\"You looked so young 9 years ago.\" he said. \n\nLauren smiled, \"Thank heavens, we got hold of it.\" She said \"We need to make sure this is the only copy.\" We filed upstairs and went back to work. \n\n\nEdit- formatting...\n\n"
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[WP] Never having liked the taste of water growing up, you avoided it like the plague. One day while attending a high profile political fundraising banquet, when offered water you decline and the waiter winks at you and then comes back a short time later with a glass of clear liquid with a blue hue.
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"\"No, I'm fine. Thanks.\"\n\nHe turned around eagerly so his back was facing me and walked away through the tight crowd. He was dressed so nice and his clothes fitted so well; even for somebody doing the legwork at an expensive venue. His head peaked towards his shoulder and gave me a subtle wink. His collar only gave in and creased ever so slightly. I really hope he knew I wasn't hitting on him. Probably saw me stare at him too much. \n\nI just didn't like water.\n\nThe venue took it's toll and the lights faded. My conversation with a high profile individual cut short when the mood changed and the stage lit up. \n\n\"What's happening now?\"\n\nHe replied so elegantly, \"Oh it's just the findraiser part. I'm donating for bragging rights!\" He giggled like one of those posh British people, except he isn't British.\n\nAt the corner of my eye I see the same waiter walking towards me with a tray and a single drink on top. His finger tips grabbed the flat bottom so well not even the drink seemed to ripple. His walk was more careful and weaved through the crowd like a lion in tall grass carefully planning its next attack. And the drink looked so pleasing. \n\n\"What is this?\"\n\n\"Oh just a little weehoo. A little dollup just in case you need a wake-me-up.\"\n\n*A wake me up? I didn't want water that's all. Whatever boujee alcohol he put in this water might help me forget it's water. Hopefully.* \n\nThe waiter walked away with the tray tucked under his arm. He was walking a bit more relaxed and his pants were pulling on his legs. His vest grabbing onto his back. His collar was higher up near his hairline. \n\nI left my drink alone for the rest of the night.\n\nI sat quietly as the rest of the lively drunk folk put in tens and hundreds of thousands of dollars for such an obscure cause."
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[WP] You start recruiting various criminals into your employ to help defend the kingdom (seven deadly sins style). This effectively gives them a job, with cool coworkers, flexible schedule, and free meals!
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"The seven strongest they said, this makes me so mad, everyone keep forgetting me, even the oldests forgotten me. \n\nI am Ignorance, the forgotten sin, I deserve to fight among the strongest warriors, I don't care if they were criminals or not, I just want to feel adrenaline and fear again, a worthy enemy, someone who could make me fold my knees and then, I would have the opportunity to finally use it.\n\n- ... Right, you seem pretty ignorant, you know they are the STRONGEST warriors, right? There's no place here for you\n\n- I don't know and I don't care, give me a chance, otherwise I will destroy this entire place and you will contemplate, my power.\n\nAsvaris thought he was kidding, the sin of ignorance? That's obviously a lie, or at least she thought.\n\n- Fine, take this crystal, it has the power to absorb power, if you're as powerful and you say you're, then you can destroy the crystal.\n\nAsvaris knew it wasn't fair, that crystal was made from dragon blood, it couldn't absorb no power whatsoever, but it was the most durable material in the world.\n\nAs soon Ignorance touched, it instantly broke, he hadn't used any power, just his raw strength.\n- Well.. Sorry for that, I broke it before I could use my power.\n\n- W-who are you!? ",
"“Lieutenant Commander Lynch –“\n\n“Please, I left the Navy a long time ago,” he interrupted, the senator raised an eyebrow, “Mr will do fine,” the senator nodded and cleared his throat.\n\n“Mr Lynch, would you be able to outline to us today this so called…” he took a second glance at the document, “Dirty work, program?”\n\n“Senator Phillips, your son served in the United States Marine Corps, didn’t he?” Mr Lynch asked poignantly.\n\n“Please answer the question,” the senator ordered sharply.\n\n“I understand he experienced some PTSD as a result of his service,” he added, the senator was about to protest but was cut off, “As I’m sure you’ll appreciate, it’s a great shame that we take some of the pillars of this society such as your son and send them to war, to kill and to do our government’s dirty work when they would be much better served leading us in various business or political sectors,”\n\n“Get to the point please Mr Lynch,” the senator said, showing incredible restraint, “And leave my son out of this.”\n\n“The CIA has come across various individuals during our efforts that have displayed exceptional talent in various areas we conduct ourselves –“\n\n“Areas?”\n\n“Assassination, kidnapping, extortion, political tomfoolery and so on,” he listed off, “and so we leave ourselves in a position once we obtain such individuals. Let me give you an example. Inside the folder I’ve given you is a brief personnel file,” he nodded at the secretary who projected the file onto the wall behind him. Much of the file was redacted, except for an image of a young man staring hard into the camera. His eyes looked considerably older than the rest of him, “This is Jack Wyatt, he’s a martial arts expert with a bachelor’s degree in Psychology and Linguistics from Oxford University. He had disciplinary issues in his youth resulting in him being kicked out of multiple boarding schools. He’s not an inherently good person but he does his best. His father became an informant for the DIA and consequently put a target on the backs of his siblings. We discovered Mr Wyatt when a former Cambodian Khmer Rouge hit squad was paid to go to his home and kill him,” he nodded and the next slide came up, showing some crime scene photos of 5 corpses, the senators gasped, “Oh sorry I didn’t realise I’d left that in!” he joked, indicating again, the slide going back to Jack, “Mr Wyatt took down a 5 man professional death squad - by himself. No weapons, no forewarning, just good instincts a bit of luck and the kind of ice in his veins that you can’t train into someone at West Point or in boot camp. On agreement that protection would be provided for his siblings, Jack agreed to join our Dirty Work program. Let me tell you he’s very good at his job. People like this young man are the reason the TSA won’t allow nail clippers on a plane. We point, he shoots – or stabs or bludgeons or peels. This man has little to no remorse for the people he kills and if he was left to function alone in society he’d probably be sleeping with your wife or talking your shrink into killing themselves,” he indicated and the slide switched to an employment contract with a messy signature on it, “As part of the Dirty Work agreement, Mr Wyatt receives a salary from our black ops budget, he attends mandatory monthly sessions with a specially qualified CIA Psychiatrist, he receives the outline of a mission statement and is allowed to accept or reject any mission he receives provided he meets a monthly quota, allowing for a flexible work schedule. He has other co-workers – albeit they’re all trained killers and we sponsored his green card and medical insurance, dental too,” Lynch indicated to his own teeth, “Very important,” he added with his fingers still holding his mouth open, “Additionally we agreed a system of protecting Jack’s siblings in coordination with the DIA and the US Marshals Service witness protection program. The world is a little safer because A) Jack isn’t out there doing his own nefarious dealings and B) Jack is out there doing awful things to awful people so your children don’t have to. Thank you.”\n\nLynch stood there smiling, expecting an applause and receiving only concerned looks from the board.\n"
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[WP] A disaster has befallen earth, and the astronauts aboard the ISS have lost contact with ground control...
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"This is my first try at creative writing... be gentile \n\nCommander Drew Feustel Log Entry for 10/27/2018:\n\nThis will the last entry. It has been over 3 months since we observed the asteroid impact off the coast Alaska. I still dream of the blinding flash of light, it would have been almost beautiful under a different situation. How everyone missed the asteroid no longer matters. \n\nEarth has been radio silent ever since the impact, and all hope has been lost for a long time now. We have been hoping against hope that the defining radio silence would be broken... broken by anything... I guess we have known all along that everyone is dead. Under all the smoke and dust the faint glow of the impact site it still visible as we pass over the site of impact at night. For the longest time it seemed the whole of Earth was on fire, and I can't remember the last time I saw the surface. \n\nOleg, Ricky, and Serena have taken the Soyuz back to Earth to see if everyone really is dead. They understood that it an almost certainty they would not survive reentry, much less having anyone to go back to. However it is a moot point, as there are only few days worth of supplies left at best... And what better way to go than in the literal blaze of glory. I guess I will join them in about 8 years when this station crashes down, it's comforting to know I'll eventually return home.\n\nI am the last everyone else has chosen their own way.. I have resigned myself to the fate that I want. How I die is the last thing I can control. When they gave me the capsule they said it is fast and in painless. All I had to do is bite down, and it would be over in just a few minutes. Like falling into a deep sleep. I wish to have my finial moments looking up into the stars, the stars I dreamed of touching as a child. So, I'm going to suit up, and die where I was meant to... among the stars.\n\nFrank Borman said \"Exploration is really the essence of the human spirit.\" It's fitting that the last human will die of the finial frontier of human exploration. \n\n "
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[WP]You find a time viewer. With it you can observe everything that has ever happened. Being a conspiracy buff, you watch events that would prove them. But you're disappointed to learn events happened as recorded. You finally find one that is not only true, but bigger than you could have imagined.
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"Ahh yes, this excellent time viewer gifted to me! It's the greatest thing to ever happen! Because I've found out the truth, the truth of the Roanoke incident.\n\nMy name is Genshi Takahowa. But you don't really need to remember that. I found this time viewer at a garage sale, it was sold to me by someone calling himself [Mr. 33](https://wp.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/8xs9m3/wp_you_see_him_everyday_at_the_bus_stop_he_wears/) But when I came back the next day to ask him what the heck it was supposed to do, he was gone. Absolutely gone. No trace, not his house, not his car, nothing. It took me a while to figure out how the time-viewer is activated. But that doesn't really matter. What you're here for is for me to explain what actually happened to the Roanoke colonies. Well, see. I don't think they actually disappeared. From what I've seen on the time viewer, *they* never actually existed. What I mean to say is, the Roanoke colonies were a massive form of the Mandela effect. We all though they existed, but they never did. And then you must be asking, what about all of the documents before their disappearance, that document their existence. Well, from what I've seen, it was all a cover-up, for proof that non-human, sentient beings, exist.\n\nThe Roanoke incidents were actually a cover up for the Ubequa colony. The Ubequa colony was very similar to the Roanoke colony, not only this, but they both mysteriously disappeared around the same time. Except, they never really disappeared, they were all slaughtered. By an entity called, Zygon Green 33. A being that was roughly at the same level of power as a being like Jesus. A demigod of a high divine presence. But it was no demigod, it was a monster. How it came to be is unknown. It's hard to describe quite what Zygon looked like, sort of like a square, or a cube, but with more dimensions. Its abilities seemed to be at best 4th dimensional, although they seemed to mainly resonate in the 3rd dimension. See, the Ubequa colony had primitive colonial technology, and so when they accidentally awakened Zygon, it was a curb-stomp victory for said entity. Zygon didn't even come out with a scratch. But the governments of the world, they understood that they needed to cover it up, so they did, and acted like nobody really knew.",
"“Scott, man, you have *got* to see this.” He struggled to catch his breath through his excitement. \n\n“Geez, Kev. You sound like you just ran a mile.” Scott moved the receiver away from his ear as Kevin’s heavy pants came through in loud waves of static. “Is this some kind of bug-guy again?”\n\n“No, it isn’t. It’s real, man. Its all real. But theres—look, just get over here now, okay? You need to see this to believe it.”\n\nScott reluctantly agreed and hurried out the door. After a short walk through winding pathways and a near-disastrous fall on a patch of ice, he arrived at his friend’s apartment. He knocked and listened as Kevin slid chains and twisted locks, far more than he needed for this neighborhood, and finally cracked the door open. \n\n“You gonna let me in or not?”\n\nKevin backed away slowly, allowing light to creep into the cramped space. Paper plates and red plastic cups lined the coffee table, while books and notepads were stacked haphazardly on the floor around it. Kevin secured the door once more and made his way to the table, shoving aside various items and spilling trash onto the carpet. From under the garbage heap he produced a small golden object, cylindrical in shape, about the size of a looking glass. He held it out for Scott to examine.\n\n“What’s that?” Scott asked, trying not to let the smell of the apartment pass over his tongue. \n\n“Time viewer.”\n\n“Time… what?”\n\n“Viewer. It lets you see the past, any part of the past. See the dials on the side, there? Just line ‘em up, year, month, day, hour, all the way down to the minute—and look through.”\n\n“Is this some kind of prop? Have you been stealing from the studio again, Kev? I put my ass on the line to get you that job, you know, and I—”\n\n“No, Scott, I’m serious. Here.” He grabbed the object and started spinning the dials, then handed it back to Scott. “Look through, right there at the couch, and press that little button on the bottom.”\n\nScott reluctantly obeyed. He held the glass to his eye, peering at the worn out couch, and pressed the button with his thumb. The glass illuminated for a moment, then there was Kevin, sitting on the couch, waiting. Then he looked up towards the door and rose. Scott stepped aside to allow the phantom to pass by. \n\n“It’s just you, Kev. I don’t know what you’re trying to pull, exactly, but—” he lost his words when Kevin opened the door and he saw himself enter the apartment. There was no sound on this device, but he knew what was being said. He watched in awe as their whole conversation replayed, up until the point he handed him the device. “What the hell…?”\n\n“Right? I’ve been messing with it like crazy. And you aren’t going to believe what I found. I figured I’d start looking up conspiracy theories, right? Because who wouldn’t want to know something like that?”\n\n“And you found something?”\n\n“Well, I checked out a couple big ones—JFK, first and foremost—”\n\n“Wait, don’t you have to be at that location for it to work? Or is there another dial on here?”\n\n“No, you need to be there. Where do you think I’ve been the last week, man? Anyways, I started looking at random places at random points in time, just for the fun of it. Rode a bus around for a few hours the other day, just checking stuff out.”\n\n“And?” Scott fumbled with the dials, feeling them click back and forth, prompting Kevin to snatch the viewer back. \n\n“And… well, look for yourself. Out this window, about fifty yards. And two hundred years.”\n\nKevin set the device and handed it to him, and Scott peered through it into the parking lot. A quick flash and the lot was gone, instead replaced by an open field. With several people standing in it. And they all looked the same. Not similar—*the same*. And Scott knew that face. “Is that—”\n\n“Nicholas Cage. Every single one.”\n\n>continued below "
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Inspired by [this](https://www.reddit.com/r/aww/comments/8xtrx0/woman_visits_an_animal_shelter_and_its_surprised/e25owb0?utm_source=reddit-android)
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[WP] "It's me!" Someone jumps into your arms wrapping their arms around your neck with a purr. "I know you from another lifetime... I found you in this lifetime."
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"\"youre on kitchen duty, Marry.\"\n\n\"my favorite.\"\n\nso i get to cleaning these filthy plates. i wish people stopped ordering the bbq ribs. thats about all anyone orders here and the sauce always crystalizes on the surfaces.\n\ni take a deep breath and stop thinking. so the chore'll be at least bearable. and while im robotically dumping the crud in the sink, i suddenly get pushed back, or maybe pulled back? either way i fell back hard against the fridge across the sink\n\nwhy am i underwater? i can see around the kitchen but it looks like it is completely flooded, except i'm floating in the air and my coworkers aren't. I don't get it. I can't breath either. My last breath sounds almost like a purr before i begin to writhe in suffocation.\n\nthe last thing i hear is a gelatinous voice drooping \"sauce killer eradicated\"\n\n",
"Gripping the figure and looking down, a slurry of slime and tentacles reached up towards the sky. Gazing further into it, I felt my legs growing weak. Like jelly. And yet, I was transfixed. Our eyes, if you could call them that, were locked in harmony. An indescribable splendor, like love.\n\nI felt frozen, yet I didn't care. My knees buckled, my skin burned, but it all felt so far away. Soon, I wasn't sure where my body ended and the slimeball began. Somewhere, deep down inside, I heard something coo and I felt warm. Like, a strange dream.\n\nI felt a flurry of feeling, a sudden panic, and then nothing. A calm ease settled slowly over and I just felt so sleepy: a sleep I had earned, after a burdensome life separated from a purpose now found. The sensation of a long journey and finally coming home. Good timing, too, it was growing terribly *dark*. As I drifted off, I thought about that quote on how the darkness of the abyss can stare back.\n\nI wondered whether that applied to slime, too.",
"“It’s me!” Someone jumps into my arms wrapping their arms around my neck with a purr. “I know you from another lifetime... I found you in this lifetime.” I look down at this somehow talking monkey. “W-what? Different lifetimes! A talking monkey? What are you?” The monkey jumps out of my arms. The monkey is brown with white spots around it. It has black rings around its eyes. And it’s tail is a yellowish orange mix. “Oh this might be a bit much for you, oh the times have changed since our journey started. I’m Abu your spirit guard.” What? What even is a spirit guard, the monkey is right though this is a bit much for me... “a spirit guard?” “Yeah a spirit guard helps people through their tough times in life, me and you used to fight monsters!” “Ok that’s cool... can you just stand there for a sec?” I dig into my bag, I know enough about “magic” from books that I need to record this to prove I’m not crazy later on. I find my phone and start recording. “Ok now talk Abu...” the monkey stares at the camera. “Ooh ooh” it starts screeching. I turn off the video. “Why did you do that???!” Us spirit guards can’t be discovered. Now let’s go I think I should explain some things to you.",
"To say I was surprised was an understatement.\n\nA little embarrassed? Slightly creeped out? Closer to the truth.\n\nHer golden eyes were wide with adoration. Pure obsession.\n\nHer hair was dark but had an ethereal quality to it as if she was, in some way, underwater. \n\n\"I've been looking for a long time,\" she pulled me close, \"I've finally found you again.\" A warmth through out my chest and settled on my throat.\n\nThe sensation was not unpleasant... Or oddly enough unfamiliar. But I still tried to extricate myself ever so politely from her arms. \n\nAs if her arms had enclosed me in a circuit, the more I resisted the harder my chest ached. \n\nShe finally relaxed her grip and quietly stepped back. A sweet and bitter pain took her eyes as she blinked away tears. \"I take it this is all a bit too strange for you?\"\n\n\"Ye-yeah...\" I said.\n\nShe laughed. If not for the pain it would have been a sardonic outburst. \n\nMy mouth was barely agape. Suddenly dry. My throat had constricted to a narrow pipette.\n\nEvery heartbeat was painfully tight. \n\n\"I'm sorry... I'm not who you think I am.\"\n\nI took a ragged breath.\n\nHer gaze fell from my eyes, and off into space. \"The first time I had to ask \"Don't you remember me?\" I could feel myself die.\" She shook her head, \"I fought them. Killed them. Took their whole Pantheon for myself. All in hopes that it would never come to this.\" She looked back to me again, \"it seems that no matter what I do they just won't let me Love a single mortal.\"\n\nShe scanned my face. \"I can see him in there. See the same soul that I've loved for four millennia.\"\n\nI saw a flicker of immense anger, \"but their curse has finally taken you away from me.\"\n\nThe anger flared into a cold rage. For every year that you endured, my love, they will have something that they love with all of their being fall away from them with excruciating detail. They will be nothing by the finish.\"\n\nShe looked deeply into my eyes with tears welling in her own., \"and when they finish, they will do it all over again.\" \"Father has some great ideas for torture,\" she said, \"I will make him live through every one of them and then my own. And every time someone mentions the name Zeus, he will beg to die.\"\n\nIn the air behind her the outline of and old wooden door etched into existence. Golden sparks solidified it's outline. Swinging silently open, the door was filled with a maw of outstretched ghostly arms, each extending towards her.\n\nHer hands slid down arms. Tears streamed down her face. The tips of her fingers squeezed my hands one last time. She stepped back and turned towards the door.\n\n\"Could we start over?\" I said meekly.\n\nShe wiped her eyes. She didn't turn around.\n\n\"No.\"",
"She, or at least what I assume is a she from how shrill her voice was, knocks the wind out of me and almost sends me to the ground.\n\n\"Hey,\" I say sharply, prying her thin and surprisingly strong arms off of me, \"Give me a little warning next time. I can't really see you coming, you know.\"\n\n\"What do you mean?\" she sounds disheartened, but she still tries to creep her hands around my shoulders. \"Don't you recognize me?\"\n\n\"Stop doing that,\" I step back and hold her wrists to keep her off. She lets out a hiss but quickly quiets herself. \"And no I've never heard your voice before in my life.\"\n\n\"No, silly, my eyes. You have to recognize my eyes.\" She insists. There is a vague smell of smoke and black tea about her, like she lives in a hookah bar or something. \"We have the same eyes, you said so yourself.\"\n\nIf we were not in public I would slap her. \"No! That's ridiculous and impossible, I'm BLIND. If you'd ever even seen me before that would be obvious. Now fuck off.\"\n\nI release her hands and move to leave but she catches my arm so quickly I don't even get to turn around. \"What do you mean you're blind? You've never been blind before. Never when I've seen you anyway.\" She pauses, still gripping my arm. I feel her stance change as she raises her other hand, \"Close your eyes.\"\n\nShe brings her fingers down over my eyes, pulling my eyelids down and denying me a chance to retaliate. Images, black and white outlines that I have only imagined in dreams flash through my mind so vividly that I nearly scream. What is happening, who is this person, why can't I move. I hear voices in the distance, calling out to me in fear, begging for protection, for strength.\n\nShe pulls away and my eyes flew open. At first it is only bright, as a warm sunny day should be. The world materializes out of the white light, colors I have never imagined before yet somehow appear familiar. Before me stands a woman, nearly my height with short, dark hair framing her feline face. Her startling, blue-green eyes recalling the color of river water about to be lost to the sea. I recognize her.\n\nA smile creeps across her face, parting her narrow lips. \"Father, finally, we find each other again.\"\n\nIt is not my voice that moves my lips and tongue next, \"Bastet.\"\n\n",
"As I walk down the street I mentally go over the grocery list. Sometimes it feels like I'm singularly supporting the dairy farms of this nation... \n\nSuddenly I spy a beautiful women walking in front of me. Every inch of her was perfection personified. Long legs that ended in delicate ankles shown off in tasteful strappy shoes. Round hips that swayed with every step, a waistline that called out for your arms to wrap around it. large sparkling eyes and lushes locks of auburn hair. \n\n\nShe must have caught me staring because she smiled exposed two rows of white pearls. I gave her an embarrassed apologetic smile.\n\n\nAs our paths crossed I lowered my eyes. I had already made a fool of myself, there was no need to creep the lady even more. \n\nThat's why I didn't see it coming. Slender arms wrapped themselves around me and her voice came purring into my ears \"I know you from another lifetime... I've found you!\"\n\n\nEven as I was taken by this I couldn't help but register the feel of her soft breasts and the gentle smell of sandalwood that she wore. \n\n \nSlowly my arms went up to her shoulders and I forcefully pushed her away. Looking into her face I saw only adoration. A part of me soften to this and taking her by the hand I lead her to the nearest cafe for some coffee. \n\n\nWe talked for almost fifteen minutes before the police arrived. The beautiful angel protested but they treated her kindly and in the end, after some re-assurances from me of following, she left with them. \n\n\nI watched them disappear into traffic before taking out my phone and calling my husband \"Hey babe, yeah I got held up by some headcase. What was it again? Eggs, butter milk and... Ah right, got it. Ok, be there in five babe. Love you.\" ",
"Momentary confusion, followed by a sudden flood of memories I hadn't known were lost. Many lifetimes that seemed to blend together. The more I watch, I realize it was one lifetime, repeated many times in a loop. Each loop ended with Rex nearly or actually dying before restarting. I had lived that one year with them how many times?\n\nI pull back to look at the face Rex has now: it was the same. Do I look the same? I hadn't been able to see my own face.\n\n\"How did you find me? What do I call you?\"\n\n\"I'm still Rex, and these.\" They slip their hand in their pocket and produce two silver rings. They glowed in their hand, and Rex moves their hand around.\n\nThe glow dims and brightens as it changes distance from me. The rings had been used as a compass, with my location being true north. But it has been twenty-some odd years: why is Rex appearing now?\n\n\"What took you so long to find me?\"\n\n\"I thought you wouldn't want to see me.\"\n\n\"Of course I'd want to see you.\"\n\n\"You didn't remember me. I had to remember you.\"\n\n\"But you found me; that's enough right?\"\n\n\"Do you remember how we broke the loop?\"\n\nI pause, reviewing every memory I had gotten back. Nothing. No mention of it. I look to Rex and shake my head. I see their excitement fade a moment, and instinctively put my hand on the side of their neck and squeeze. Rex smiles and leans into it. I think she's happy I remembered that. They ask if we can find a private place to talk, and I suggest my place.\n\n\\---\n\n\"My roommate likes to tease me, so ignore his comments please, \" I say as I open the door. Rex says nothing, and I notice their energy dim. I say hello to my roommate, who is in the kitchen reading.\n\n\"Finally got a--\" \n\nMy roommate stops when he looks at Rex. He looks at me, suddenly fearful, and goes back to his book. I'm confused, but I'll deal with it later. \n\nWe go to my room and I pull out the extra chair I used back when I had needed a desk. Rex wastes no time, and asked what my roommate had been about to say. \n\n\"He was probably going to make fun of me for finally getting a date.\"\n\n\"Have you tried?\"\n\n\"Dating? Yeah but they never went anywhere. Something was never right about them.\"\n\nAnd that's when I realize what wasn't right. Looking at Rex now, I realized that nothing had been right because none of the people had been them.\n\nIn my own way, I had been searching for them in this lifetime too.",
"The sun sets over midsummer New York, it's orange hue peaking through the tips of the towers over the other side of central park. The lake you've felt drawn to your whole life for some reason, three paces in front of you, as it does most nights you feel alone. You hear the quick pitter patter of brisk footsteps. They turn into heavier steps and someone is now running towards you, assuming it's just another late night runner you don't even bother turning. Suddenly you feel two arms around the front of your neck and yourself being pulled closer to someone's chest, you think it's a mugger until their legs wrap around your stomach. 'thats an odd thing for a mugger to do' you think to yourself.\nThen, in a hushed voice, they say:\n\n\"It's me!\"\n\"I know you from another lifetime... I found you in this lifetime.\"\n\nYou pry them off and turn around to look them in the eye. The only thing you can think to say passes your lips.\n\n\"Bitch get outta here with yo new age bullshit.\"",
"That 'someone' turns out to be a boy named 'Gerald'...It sounds like a pretty old name so you felt somewhat inclined to believe him.\n\nHe was also getting heavy and didn't exactly want to stop being in your arms... so you had to pry him off of you threatening to hand him to the cops.\n\nBut you also don't exactly want to head to jail just in case he said the same thing he said to you- from another lifetime, unbelievable- so you tell him that even if you did know him from another lifetime you will not make a move on him or vice versa until he was of legal age.\n\nGerald has somehow managed to convince you to let him into your house. He manages to give you a convincing excuse to tell his parents: \"Tell them that you found me lost and about to faint. I have anemia-\" \"Wait, what\" You interrupt eyes wide at that piece of information being mentioned so casually. \n\nThe boy continues as though you never spoke. \"-so it's pretty believable.\" He finishes with a bright grin down your way. \"So whaddya think?\"\n\nYou roll your eyes. \"Considering you're already halfway up the stairs to my flat? Sure, but don't actually faint... I wouldn't know what to do if you did.\"\n\nGerald's eyes, which you only now noticed were actually grey, seems to look at you with fondness although the words that come out of his mouth doesn't exactly give you much comfort. \"Ah, you're just as hopeless with medicine like you were even now, huh?\" \n\nYou cocked your eyebrow up in confusion. \"...Anemia... That's iron deficiency, right? Should I get you some tablets?\"\n\nLaughter fills your living room as you open the door after unlocking it. Terse, you looked back to retort with sharp words only to have them die in your throat as you noticed that Gerald, the boy who is convinced that you two knew each other... romantically in another life, is touching your precious life's work. \n\nWithout thinking, you rushed to grab his wrist away from even touching the dry paint of your most recent work.\n\n...It was a portrait of someone. Someone whose face you didn't know that came into your mind when you were tired one day and the imagery you held of her in your mind was pleasing to paint into fruition.\n\nYou did not want Gerald to ruin it but once your grip on his wrists is loosened you notice the tears that were leaking from his eyes and felt your heart sink in guilt. It can't be... can it?\n\nLooking at how... entranced Gerald was at the portrait, you could only assume the worst. \n\n\"Is this...\" Your mouth finally works and voices your dwindling doubt. \"You?\" \n\nGerald laughs loudly again through sniffles and mucus-filled noses. You immediately take out your handkerchief and wipe away the tears trailing down his face brimming with childlike youth and innocence. \n\nYou can't see this boy as anything more than a child no matter what he tells you. Even if your heart feels torn with guilt at being unable to remember him. Her?\n\n...this is beyond confusing. So you ask for an explanation and a crooked grin forms on his face. It seems misplaced to be on his childlike face yet fitting if his story is true. Her story? \n\nYou never did manage to listen to the full story as you were far too busy shutting down such impossible things. You really feel awful for not even listening in the beginning but you could listen now. \n\n\"Oh, Charmagne.\" That isn't your name but you can only assume that was the name that you supposedly had in this boy's memories of your past lives. \"No silly, that's you.\" \n\nYou blink and slowly nod in acceptance as you eye the portrait you drew. You huh? \n\nThe edges of your lips tilt upwards at that. \"Tell me more about the past. If you really do want to convince me, it might be best that you tell me things that should match with the historical record. Where were we? Who were we?\" \n\nThe night goes by quickly and before either you or Gerald- who was Jermaine in the past- could realize it, it was already sunrise. \n\n\"So...\" With a theatrical bow, Gerald kneels on one knee and looks up at you with tears still in his eyes. \"Do you believe me now? Does any of this sound familiar to you?\"\n\nHe looks into your eyes longingly and you can't help but feel embarrassed at not being able to remember. \"I'm sorry... I believe you but I remember nothing.\" \n\nSighing, he gets back up from being on his knees and dusts his pants off. \"It was worth a try wasn't it?\" The boy who has a lifetime of memories within him asks you sounding like he's in pain before suddenly his sad smile turns into a full-blown wide grin. \"I suppose that just means I'll have to spend more time with you until you do remember.\"\n\n\"I suppose so.\" Little did you know that Gerald really didn't plan to leave you alone despite your lack of memories and by his eighteenth birthday, you two were engaged. \n\nIt was controversial but you've fallen in love and that's far more than you ever thought could have happened within the past five years. \n\nYou were twenty when you first met him so it's... a bit embarrassing, incredibly controversial actually. \n\nBut you're the happiest husband to have ever been and perhaps you did feel like you were a predator for even entertaining romantic thoughts of him before he turned eighteen but Gerald simply chuckles and dissipates your fears and worries away as he had. \n\n\"James,\" Gerald starts with a tut and wraps his arms around your neck again reminiscent of the day when you both first met. \"What about me then? I died when I was sixty. I'm practically seventy-eight mentally. The physical age difference means nothing to me and...\" He pauses looking you up and down. \"To be fair, you still look like you could still be in your late teenage years so no one will judge us.\"\n\nYou send a wry grin at his way. \"I guess we're just lucky that my parents aren't here and that your parents are beyond understanding.\"\n\nGerald and you break into laughter at that and walk into the adoption center with high hopes for both of your future lives together. \n\n\n-------\n\nI triedd ",
"Like any other day, no one expects to come home with a pet.\nI was never one for them but raising a family changed that one day; my wife and daughter came home with this little ball of fur, you could liken it to a dandelion that could be blown away with the faintest of breezes. \n\nWe decided to name him Sebastian; our daughter had been watching little mermaid on repeat and she was quick to make the decision.\n\nShe loved Sebastian, and he loved her. The two were inseparable; she would feed him, and then eat, she would brush her hair then his; his bed or well \"theirs\" they slept together under the sheets. \n\nLike most people come to realize in life is that time passes by quick.\n\nThat lovable ball of fur got old and gray as our daughter grew up tall and beautiful, poor old Sebastian could barely walk if you could even call it that; her face when I told her that we should probably put Sebastian to sleep broke my heart, she hid and cried in her room with Sebastian for two days before I could talk reason into her anymore than she already knew, she saw the pain he was in when he walked and his heavy raspy breathing.\n\nHe had a good life, he loved my daughter probably more than I did and she him. 16 years.\n\n\n\n\nThis is the story of Sebastian.",
"Even the park bench is cold. The lake, reflecting the pale grey light of the sky, looks like mercury, and the grass is silvery with a coat of tiny gray baubles of dew. The trees are knobbly skeletons forming a silhouette against the sunlight. And he is sitting alone on a cold park bench. There is no one on the path that traces the lake, the grass is not punctuated by picnic rugs. He is drinking coffee, even though he doesn't like it, because he is starved for warmth.\n\nA staticky pop pierces the blanket of silence, but before he can turn around a withered face is shoved against his neck, and leathery talons are wrapped around his chest, slipping underneath his jacket- but they are warm.\n\nA whisper, \"Roger?\"\n\n\"Yes?\"\n\n\"I've missed you.\" A tear slides down his neck. It is not his.\n\n\"I don't-\"\n\n\"Don't worry about it. Just let me sit here.\"\n\nRoger isn't going to decline an old lady a harmless request, but it is a strange one. Hobbled footfall rounds the bench before sitting on it. Her face is wrinkled, grooved not only by time but also by sadness. He sees that sadness in her eyes too, they are welled up with the having-happened of life, looking across the lake. He sees it in her hands as well, gripping the bench, her nightgown, or each other- needing something to hold on to. So he locks his hands with her freckled ones, feeling the delta of veins that age left as it dried up her skin.\n\nAnd seeing that she is only in a nightgown Roger takes off his jacket and gives it to her. The chill seeps in to him now, but it feels like the right thing to do. They both look across the lake, saying nothing, because she doesn't need to (nor does she think she should), and because he doesn't know what to say to a crying old lady.\n\n\"This was nice,\" she says.\n\n\"Yeah but... are you alright? Do you need help getting home?\"\n\n\"I know you from another lifetime, this one... I've found you. But I should be getting home. I'll be fine.\"\n\nSlowly, she gets up from the park bench, remembering and missing the footprints of green amongst the silvery grass, the bare trees like silent sentinels, the stillness of the water. Missing all these things but knowing she must say goodbye. With a staticky pop she flies forward fifty-seven years, alone.\n\nNow another person walks the solitary path. Not yet wrinkled, the puffs of her breath are the only sign of warmth in the silence and coldness. Noticing the man on the bench has no jacket, she offers hers. It feels like the right thing to do.",
"My first memories were of George. I reached a chubby hand out to pat his head, my mouth and fingers sticky with the lollipop my other hand grasped. He mewed in protest before leaning into the pat.\n\nSuddenly, he howled as my three year old self lunged at him. My toddler arms were too much for the old boy as he struggled against my impossible strength. He had watched me in a bassinet, struggling for breath as a baby and made the same noises to alert my parents that my little sighs had stopped. Now, he screamed for their help again.\n\n\"No, no, Jenn,\" my mother crooned, gently prying my arms off the cat. \"Be nice to Georgie.\"\n\nGeorge dropped to the ground, snorting in disgust. I whined as he trotted away, my lollipop a gleaming red against his blue gray fur.\n\nFor years after, he avoided me. He became a silent fixture of our household, sulking between rooms for his next sunny patch or quietly crunching his food. I was less engaged. He might as well have been a picture hung on our wall; newcomers that caught a glimpse would politely comment on him before moving on.\n\nIt wasn't until I was in my early teens that he started to warm up to me again. I was sobbing over a broken heart when he stuck a curious nose up over the ottoman and chirped a tentative meow. I gasped a short laugh through the muck and tears.\n\n\"Are you the only boy that loves me?\" I asked.\n\nWithout another word, he hopped up and nuzzled his way into my arms. I broke, shaking as I held him, and his deep, soft rumble warmed my heart.\n\nHis last day was the first of my adult life. In the time, we had become inseparable. He would run to the door as I arrived home from school, mewing and chatting about his day while I studied. He slept by my side through the night, his velvet paws stretching out in his sleep to touch my shoulder. He was loving and supportive as I applied to school after school, mopping up tears with his purrs and licking me with a sandpaper tongue when I finally opened an acceptance letter.\n\n\"He was almost twenty years old, hun,\" my mom said softly through the phone. \"That's so old for a cat. He would want you to be happy at college. Finish unpacking, and we'll be down to visit next weekend.\"\n\nLife went on with a small, undefined hole in it. I met people and learned. I climbed ladders and slid up and down the rungs. The world showed me new colors that grew vivid and faded with time. I flirted and dated and tragically fell in and out of love before finding love came in shades like the rest of the world's hues.\n\nI lived in a quiet suburb, now, a place that would make my teal-haired teen self groan. We had a dog, Clarence, a floppy-tongued, shaggy mutt. We had a cat of the same silvery blue as George, but the cat had not been my idea. My husband had chosen him out with my five-year-old son over a pile of kittens in a parking lot and named him Bailey.\n\nIt was the afternoon, and I poured over a magazine while the water boiled on the stove. My son hummed while he chose a new color to rub across his drawing.\n\nI was worried about work. We were in crunch time, and my breath took nervous shudders as I tried not to think about tomorrow. Suddenly, my son was at my side.\n\n\"Sweetie. Be careful...\"\n\n\"It's me,\" my son, George, said gently.\n\nSomething in the tone startled me. I looked down at his thoughtful eyes. Did five-year-olds act like this? I leaned in, intent, and his arms enveloped my neck, slamming his little chest against mine. We held each other for a long time, the water starting to rumble on the stove. Somehow, this felt different from his usual hugs and nuzzles, and we hugged tightly in silence.\n\n\"I know you from another lifetime,\" I whispered. \"I found you in this lifetime...\"\n\n\"Don't worry, Mommy,\" George said. \"I know you do your best.\" He pecked a slobbery kiss on my forehead and toddled back to his drawing.",
"As her silent purring has let out a constant rumble on my shoulders, I immediately knew who I stumbled upon.\n\n\"It's me! I know you remember me!\" She said to me with a rather excited voice.\n\nI let out a big \"sigh\" as I calmly told her:\n\"Goddammit Karen, did you leave the asylum again?\"",
"It happened so suddenly.\n\n\"It's me!\" A voice purrs. Almost immediately, I feel two arms encircle my neck from behind.\n\nI want to turn around and look at my assailant. To twirl and defend myself.\n\nBut the voice.\n\nThe voice is familiar. That's all that keeps me rigidly still because I *know* that voice.\n\nBut do I?\n\nThe name is on the tip of my tongue... alas, I fail to retrieve it.\n\nAs I helplessly stand in shock, the voice continues in that smooth, delightful purr right next to my ear, \"I know you from another lifetime, and now I've found you in this one.\"\n\nBefore I can react, the arms are gone, it's too late, and all that's left is a deep longing within me.\n\nI turn slowly, *hoping*.\n\nShe's gone.\n\n*You found me... so you could tell me I could find you.*",
"\"I know you won't remember me, and you probably won't believe me, but we met in another life.\" she said, taking a step back and blushing a little \"I can't remember much of it either, but your face is clear as water in my mind, and I know it's not from this life! So... Do you remember me?\" She asked. I nodded negatively \"I thought so. So, let me introduce myself. I'm Lina. What's your name? It's Robert right?\"\n\n\"Yes, but not even my mother calls me that way. Rob, if you don't mind.\" I stated. How did she know my name? It was at this point that I remembered where I was: at a coffee, on a city that I don't know, talking business with a guy that I don't know. It probably was as weird for him as it was for me. I asked him to excuse me for a second, and took Lina to talk outside.\n\n\"So... Who are you? Where you searching for me or anything? How do you know me?\" I asked. This was the most odd situation I've ever been. \"So, I'm Lina. I'm 23 years old, I live here in North Manchester for about 11 years. No, I wasn't looking for you, and I didn't remember you existed until I saw you. Damn it, my coffee!! Anyway. No, I wasn't looking for you, and I don't know how I know you. I just had this feeling when I saw you that you were important, then I knew why, then I was at your arms.\" She said.\n\n\"Hmm, ok. Anyway, nice to meet you, Lina.\" I answered. I didn't know what to do in this situation, so awkward \"Wait! Are you just gonna walk away like this?\" She asked. I nodded positively. \"So... Would you like to hang out some time?\" She asked, not even waiting for my answer to grab my arm and right a number on it. \"If you see yourself free tonight or tomorrow, call me. I won't do anything anyday anyway.\" She said, and as quick as she ran into me, she ran away, catching the first bus that she found. \"Oh man, here we go\" I thought, going back to the coffee, and sitting by the table. Surprisingly, the guy was still there, paciently drinking his latte.\n\nThe business went alright, after all. The dude broke the ice talking about the girl, but I understood so little about it all that I couldn't catch not even with him. I got home, took of my shoes and sat on the TV until late. It was over 10pm when I went for a shower, and saw the number. \"What a weird number\", I thought. 523-967-3010. I went to save it on my phone, just to notice it was already saved, as Lina. \"That's getting even weirder\", I said to myself, as I message her.\n\nShe responded almost on the spot, didn't take not even 10 seconds to reply the \"Hi, Lina\" with \"Hey, I've been waiting for your message!\" She proceeded to apologize about her behaviour earlier that day, how she isn't usually this way, and all that thing. I told her it was fine, I just was caught of guard. She asked how it went with the guy that I was talking with, and I said it went cool. We managed to reach a deal that was good for me, and his part wouldn't go all lost too. I don't know why, but I asked her if she wanted to do something that night. She said she was free, but it was cold outside; so she invited me to go over to her house, she said she had some cool movies we could watch. I thought \"Hey, why not?\", and told her I'd be there in 10.\n\nI grabbed my rental car, and drove to her address. *I didn't ask her address nor anything!* How come I know, by memory, where she lives? I messaged her, and she came down after a few minutes, wearing at least 2 pairs of each piece of clothing possible. It was really cold outside, I'm to agree with her.\n\nShe lived on the 3rd floor on a regular flat, enough for a person to have some comfort. She offered me some cheese and wine, but I had to decline. \"I'm lacto intolerant, and even the cheese would make me feel sick!\", I explained. \"Oh, so that makes sense. I didn't remember why I bought lactose free cheese, but now I know the answer!\", she said, with a shy smile on her face and a plate of cheese on her hands. After that, she passed out.\n\nI wasn't fast enough to hold her *and* the cheese plate, but I managed to not let the glass break, nor let her hit the ground full speed. I checked her temperature and she was burning alive. Then I realized she was still with all those clothes, and it was pretty comfortable inside the house. I took off her outlayer of jackets (2 jackets!), just to notice she was sweating under all of those. I took her to her couch and layed her there, trying to make her head feel comfortable, keeping clothes enough on that she doesn't feel the cold, but also keeping it open so she doesn't cook. It was as weird as it could get at this point, I thought to myself.\n\nI slept on a chair, trying to keep an eye on her, and woke up on the sofa, with her smiling on the kitchen, making some sort of scrambled eggs with spinach. I got up, and she said \"If you want to brush your teeth or just wash out, the bathroom is there\", and she pointed to a corner of her room. Yes, there was a room there. \"I have an spare teeth brush that has never been used, feel free to. It's the green one!\", she kinda yelled at me.\n\nAfter I got back, she had everything prepared on the table, even a coffee for me. \"I'm sorry for everything yesterday. I was so excited I didn't realize I was hot as hell.\", she said, without looking straight at my eyes. \"Now I remember\", I thought to myself. \"I think it's worth a try\", I continued, as I bit a piece of omelette and smiled to her.\n\nEdit: [here is the continuation](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/8xwbrc/slug/e26z691).",
"You know, they don't make it easy for animals to get to their soulmates. We can't speak, after all. Then again, we get a better deal than you humans. At least we know who you are. At night, we dream about the world through your eyes, and we try to make it to you any way we can during the day. Some of us are ran over trying to run to their human. Others, like me, are picked up by animal control. It's hard to run from family after family, but I know who my human is.\n\nIt's you. Through the narrow slits of my cage, I see you. Like a bolt of lightning, your eyes meet mine. The faint spark of recognition lingers between us. \n\n\"Who is this?\"\n\n\"Oh, this is Charlotte. She's a frequent flyer here, unfortunately.\"\n\nYour hand grazes my head through the cold bars. I can't help but purr.\n\n\"Do you want to meet her?\"\n\n\"Yes, I do.\"\n\nThe door opens, and I fly into your arms. It feels so good to be home again. I'm sorry I wasn't there when your boyfriend dumped you in high school for your best friend. That one hurt to miss; it must have been deafeningly lonely. Don't worry; I know about it all. You don't need to tell me. I'm here now, and I've finally found you. I'll always find you.\n\n\"I'll take her.\"",
"The cat would not budge. The more I tried to move her, the more it dug its claws into my shoulders. It seemed to recognize me, to *know* me. \n\nShe reminded me of my cat from my childhood, one that I had lost so many years ago. She had the same emerald eyes - I was sure of it. I couldn't afford to take her home with me. I could barely afford anything at all. \n\nBut I just couldn't leave her. \n\n*****\n\nShe had exactly the same mannerisms, the same deep purr. She would flick her tail across my face while I did my work, annoyed that I wasn't giving her attention. I'd watch Netflix while snuggled in bed with her; hot cocoa and winter nights. \n\nI used to think of her back at the shelter, cold, emaciated. She was in such a better state these days. If only mom were still alive to see her, she'd say just how similar she was. \n\nI know it sounds silly, but I once caught her staring at a picture of my mother. She seemed smart for a cat - too smart. \n\n****\n\nShe was old now, so old. I did all I could for her, but 20 years was a long time. I was lucky I to have spent so much time with her. \n\nWhen she finally passed, I promised myself I'd never get another pet. I couldn't stand to see her go; it felt like I had lost her twice. \n\n*****\n\nI put down the picture of her, the ache in my bones my only company. How I missed her. \n\nI know how she felt now, in those late years of her life. I was struggling through mine.\n\nThere was a scratching at the door. It would not stop, so I got up with effort, moving towards it slowly, deliberately.\n\nI opened the door. A cat sat in front of me, meowing, purring. It seemed so familiar. I leaned down, picking her up. She hugged me so tight, staring up at me with her emerald eyes.\n\nThose same eyes.\n\n*****\n\n*****\n\nIf you didn't completely hate that, consider subscribing to [my subreddit.](https://www.reddit.com/r/CroatianSpy/) \n\nI'll try add new (and old) stories every day <3"
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[WP] Having gotten a job as a movie monster, you didn't see the clause that you actually have to be turned INTO the monster. The film has gone bankrupt, and you are stuck this way, looking for work.
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"*1*\n\nToday is my first day of filming. I have to be in costume on set, and there is a*lot* I have to do before I get in costume. Seriously: the director has some bizarre orders for my role. I have to shave all the hair on my body except on top of my head, I must wear nothing underneath my costume (not even underpants), and the costume must be worn seamlessly, so I have to do a good job zipping up my costume. If he insists. \n\nThe movie I'm in is a sci-fi film about alien assimilation, and I play the initial alien. It's not like John Carpenter's 'The Thing', the alien in *this* production has a single form, and knows what it's doing. For a premise like that, it sounds mediocre on paper, but the thing is, the budget is pretty big.\n\nI decided to play this part after seeing the newspaper ad. They were looking for someone who wasn't well known (check), had very very short resume (check), and was very nimble (check). They didn't even want my headshot. But what really made me want to go was the fact that I'd be paid $100,000 per take. You know how the \"man-in-the-suit\" usually gets underpaid? It was an amazing change of expectations. \n\nThe design is kind of generic, but it does have some differences. First off, it's taller than the human protagonists, it's nimble and sly, and very *very VERY* expressive. \n\nI pick up my costume from the chair and move my fingers so it would unfold quickly. There is no mask attached, so I have to go on set to have it put on. I love how smooth the skin is. I turn it so I face the opening, that's when I notice that the underskin is the exact same as the other side. I put my left leg in; it slides in very well. I put it in all the way to notice it's kind of tight, but actually comfortable. I put the other leg through, to get the same tight comfort. The stilts in my legs work well with my feet; the stilts aren't even an obstacle. It's still comfortably tight when I lift it to my pelvis. It's so tight, it'll make my bulge absolutely impossible to see. Putting my arms through the sleeves, the feeling is the exact same as everything else. The long fingers are also a bit convenient; I made the right choice. My torso is almost the same, the suit opening has to be closed off. \n\nI get out of my trailer to the set where they'll close the body and put on my mask. I find the costume designer and she gets the special effects glue. \n\nI have to hold still as she pinches the seams together to glue them. She puts it on from the arse up my spine to my neck. We have to be this thorough because the producers are very detail-oriented. Thank god we haven't started rolling yet. As soon as it's done, I go straight to the makeup artists for my mask. \n\nI walk over to them, and they don't see me until I say, \"Alright, I'm ready for my mask.\" One of them finally looks up at me, startled. Her coworkers laugh at her for a few seconds, but I don't. I sit while one of them gets my mask ready. It's the exact same color and texture as my body, but they also have some alien eyeballs for it. She puts the mask on me, but before she glues it closed, she has to attach it to the neck end of the body. \n\nMy facial features have to be glued to the rest of the mask, too. The alien, as I said, is supposed to be expressive. The round eye lenses are put in front of my eyes so I can see through the costume. It even fits under my eyelids quite well. I can even blink in my mask, too! With clever budget usage like this, the producers would make great US treasurers. \n\n\"Okay, Mick! Get up and take a little test run!\"\n\nEnd of chapter"
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[WP] You live in a small village hundreds of years after an apocalypse. Ancient tech and weapons are salvaged by those brave enough to explore old city ruins. A stranger appears saying he's from an advanced hidden city where people live forever and you can join if you leave violence behind.
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"I am suspicious by nature. I mean, you have to be if you want to survive in this world. There are three things that are certain:\n\n1. Life\n2. Death\n3. Lust\n\nThe third one is the most dangerous of them all. We live in a run down village, far from the masses. Yes, there are masses, if you would believe. They cluster together, not for protection, but for lust. They are the weak of mind, the commoners, those of low breed, if you will. \n\nAnd I do not mean to be derogatory, for things are the way they are. I can only tell you what I see.\n\nThese masses live for lust and gluttony and immediate pleasures. They backstab and sabotage to get their quick fix, and they do not care about life. They do not have a strong enough comprehension of the world, and the way things work in it, to be able to discern the value of their lives. \n\nThey have no concept of death or life. They live to fulfill their basest desires, and when they die, they die. \n\nWe are the few, the strong of will, those who know. We have developed a library of text and knowledge, using which we can obtain anything we desire. Not using violence, but using our cunning and our knowledge of the way things work. We are aware of the value our lives hold - we know the significance of life and death. \n\nSo, you can imagine my apprehension when a stranger appeared one rainy day. Out of the blue he emerged, and he only come with only one message. \n\nHe spoke to me and said, \"Come, join us in the City of the Gods. For we are rich in knowledge, and richer in wealth. We live forever as equals in perfect harmony.\" \n\nI was tempted. It sounded amazing. Perfect happiness. \n\n*Or so it would seem on the surface.*\n\nI may have been one who knew, but I was still part of this Earth, and I originated from the masses after all. \n\nWhere I am now, I am the top dog. I had the *power* here. \n\nAnd a little bit of lust still remained within me. \n\nI told the stranger, \"*No.*\""
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[WP] Using your powers of time travel, you go back in time before something was made to create it yourself, and thus, gain wealth and fame. However, to your dismay and confusion, it had already been created.
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"October 26th\n\nEver since I was young, I loved time travel. People even used to call me Marty. I dedicated my life to it, from reading fiction to pursuing an education in theoretical mathematics. Time travel, above all else, has been my motivation in life. The thing is, I'm not sure what the first thing I'd do if I had created the mechanisation for time travel. And I had. And I hadn't. \n\nIn my original timeline, time travel was invented. I had my hand in it, but it was a team effort. We discovered it somewhat accidentally. We were synthesising the creation of mouse tissue, and we thought we knew how to speed it up a bit. One day, we came in to look over all our ongoing tests, and there it was. The tissue had generated roughly a month's work in the space of 12 hours. We spent years figuring out what the hell happened. We were playing God with the bio-mess, and maybe someone was playing God with us. Of course no one said that, I just thought it. I wanted it to be that someone in the future had figured it out, and gave us a demonstration. We were at the birth of true time travel, and it took us the better part of a decade to realise it. \n\nTime travel isn't public knowledge. It's a weapon of mass destruction - the ability to do anything. Limitless. Our first tests much like the mouse tissue; growing things at an accelerated rate. We grew a mouse fetus to adult in the space of an hour. And then back into a fetus. Back into a single cell, back into non-being. \n\nThe first illegal test was by me. I couldn't hold back. I aged myself 5 years into the future, and then another seven. I took everything I could. Stock market information, future tech ideas, everything I could hold, I could remember. I took it back, I remember the day. October 26th, it was a calling. I grew the mouse tissue cells, I 're-discovered' how it all works, only this time I didn't wait five years. It was a eureka moment in science, and no one knows the truth. Except you. So when you read this, remember it. The rest of the documents are underneath, you're going to be a god amongst men.\n\nOne condition, you must make the discovery before October 26th 2025. \n\n-- Marty\n\n"
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I know rule 2 copycat [https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/8x70tx/wp\_youre\_infinitely\_loved\_on\_every\_level\_even/](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/8x70tx/wp_youre_infinitely_loved_on_every_level_even/)
but that's 3 days ago, i think that warrants enough time
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[WP] You're infinitely loved on every level - even prophecies and scientific testing show that you're loved. The problem? The only thing greater than how much people love you is how dense you are.
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"No living being in the universe had ever felt positive emotion directed towards them for nearly seventeen years now. There simply wasn't any left- every last drop of it was directed at Derek.\n\nWithout fail, every single living organism was totally smitten with him, and had no time at all to direct any of their devoted love to anybody else. Derek was the centre of everyone's attention; be they human, animal- even those weird bobbly aliens had turned up to worship him. It was pure insanity, and no-one could quite understand *why*. None of them had even met Derek in person. But they loved him all the same.\n\nDerek was a sixteen year old teenager who currently resided about a hundred million light years from Earth and was floating in deep space. Nobody quite knew how he got there or how he survived the deadly vacuum, but they were all rather pleased that he wasn't any closer; for although Derek appeared to be an ordinary teenager at a glance, his average material density in kilograms per cubic metre was, to our best calculations, somewhere in the realms of 2.3785i, or 2.4 infinities. As such, Derek had formed an all-consuming supermassive singularity with himself as the centerpoint, and had by this time consumed roughly a sixteenth of the entire known universe. Now, this would have been quite a worry for everyone else had they not been so smitten with him, but as it was they welcomed their incoming doom. Finally, a chance to be with Derek. Just the two of them.\n\nEvery once in a while, someone- usually one of the bobbly aliens- would fly out to meet him, eager to speed up the process of their own demise if only to catch a glimpse of Derek through the black clouds of death that surrounded him. They would relay footage back to Earth- while they still could, of course- in the hopes that those back home may experience his ethereal beauty as well. Each time, Derek would emerge on the screens, and a great squeal of excited joy would be heard from the many billions sat glued to their televisions. Each time, the brave traveller would call out, their voice barely heard above the violent sounds of destruction. \n\n\"Derek!\" They'd shout. \"What say ye to those on Earth?\"\n\n\"I'm just so DENSE\" Derek would scream back, flexing his massive biceps and making a war face at the camera as the signal faded to nothingness.\n\nIncredible."
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[Wp] A vampire starts volunteering at blood drives so they can stay fed. However, the slowly find that they like to help others as well.
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"John didn't know when the blood drive began lowering standards, but he did know it happened before he came aboard and that his silence towards this presented a unique opportunity. \n\nBefore starting his shift, he supped on some delicious AB blood before preparing the equipment needed to draw a volunteer's blood. He remembered the times his discipline wasn't sufficient in preventing him from using his fangs rather than a needle to take blood, but now, he knows how some slip-ups birth consequences nothing can fix. \n\nJoy was a special volunteer who had a colorful history, frequenting many bars and cultivated many carnal encounters from each. That, with a curious addition of philanthropy, made her a rich source of cheerful tales from her adventures that kept down her surprise that a blood drive would consider her a valid donor. John's stomach growled, but he knew her blood would help much more people than if he had simply chugged it. \n\nAfter drawing a sufficient amount of blood, he greeted the people who'll take over the next shift as he strolled towards the house of Robert Wren, who was in the middle of a phone call.\n\n\"I'm telling you, they love us! No more kids pestering them for food, which they don't have by the way, and more work to crank out those parts for you!... Good, just make sure the records show your new workers' salaries are still being sent to their parents\".\n\nJohn controlled his impulses so he could stop his steps from making noise, to wait until after Wren's call was finished before knocking him out, to make the smallest of incisions necessary where he could infuse Joy's diseased blood into Wren who'll suspect he had simply dozed off in the warm summer night. Maybe the law can't reach some people, but John certainly can. "
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[WP] You were granted one wish, "who's my soul mate?", it replied "Andromeda, you should look there", the only problem, it's an entire different Galaxy far, far away
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"The ship lifted off, and everyone held their breath for a long minute. Ticking seconds passing by, waiting, waiting, waiting.\n\nAnd then they burst into applause. Cheers. Technicians embracing each other. More than one wiping tears from his eyes, or burying his face in his desk in relief.\n\nAndy closed his eyes and let out a sigh. The machine picked up next to him, circulating oxygen. The ship thundered somewhere in the background, picking up speed as it started the longest journey humanity had ever undertaken.\n\nThe sound cut off as the nurse muted the TV. She moved beside him, quietly, and began his fourth medication administration of the day. Andy watched the clear IV drip turn pale blue through the hose to his arm.\n\n\"You must be proud.\"\n\nAndy looked up at the nurse. She always tried to make conversation, especially once she had to start emptying his drainage bag. Andy took a gasping breath before he spoke. It was getting difficult to even manage that much. In fact, it felt as though the engine had been removed from his soul, the drive and the force.\n\n\"I am unspeakably proud.\" Andy gasped for air after the words left him. God. Old was never worth anything.\n\nThe nurse stood up and began disposing of the biohazards. \"Do you want me to turn the volume back on?\"\n\nAndy shook his head. \"I'm not needed.\"\n\n\"Oh, Andy,\" The Nurse gave him a look, the look that a daughter gives a hurting father. \"You may not be needed, but you're very wanted. You have a lot of friends.\"\n\nAndy felt a pang, almost physical. He'd never had a daughter. Never had a wife. Never had. . . anything.\n\n\"Do you know why I did this?\" Andy said. His voice was dropping low. The Nurse moved closer without being obvious about it.\n\n\"Why did you do it?\" Humoring tone of voice.\n\nSomeone would know, at least. \"I got a wish. One wish.\"\n\n\"Oh?\"\n\n\"I don't know who gave it to me. God. An angel. I don't know.\"\n\nThe Nurse barely looked concerned before her face flickered back to a soothing smile. She turned to his various readouts and started scanning them. \"Oh?\"\n\nAndy watched her looking for the anomaly. \"I asked for my soulmate. They told me. . . they told me Andromeda.\"\n\nThe Nurse smiled at him, her brows knit very slightly. \"That is something. Do you feel alright, Andy?\"\n\n\"I feel old. And broken.\" Andy looked back at the TV. One of the techs was being interviewed. His eyes were shining. He was happy, and couldn't wait to go home and tell everyone what he'd done. \"And alone.\"\n\n\"You aren't alone.\" The Nurse began checking his temperature. \"I'm here.\"\n\nAndy breathed. In, out. In, out. \"Do you have anyone?\" At the confused expression. \"A boyfriend? Girlfriend? Someone you love?\"\n\n\"I do alright.\"\n\n\"I'm sure you do.\" Andy looked at the screen one last time. It seemed darker. Maybe it was tears. Maybe cataracts. Maybe, maybe he was leaving it behind. \"Nobody should ever miss loving someone.\"\n\nThe Nurse stood up. Her thumb flickered across the Call button so fast Andy barely saw it happen. \"Well, if you can't be with the one you love, love the one you're with.\"\n\nAndy looked back at her.\n\nMaybe.\n\nMaybe not.\n\n\"Just a chance.\" Andy whispered. His voice almost gone. \"Everyone gets a chance.\" It faded away to almost nothing before it came back. One last burst of strength. The same voice he'd given calculations in. The same voice he'd solved problems with. The same voice that broke humanity into a new age. \". . . the one they love.\""
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[WP] Every country starts launching its nuclear arsenals. It is quickly discovered that every nuke around the world has been rendered inert.
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"**July 27th, 2068**: The global Resource War, also referred to as the Third World War, reaches its peak when India and Pakistan initiate nuclear conflict. Within minutes, the rest of the world has launched its arsenals. And shortly after that, a stunned silence befalls the world, for it has not ended. Out of the nearly one thousand nuclear missiles launched by the major nuclear powers of the world, not a single one detonated. National security councils around the world immediately panic as the realization sinks in that the bedrock of world security since the Second World War - the doctrine of Mutually Assured Destruction - has been undermined.\n\n**July 28th, 2068**: Multiple invasions commence around the world - the Eurasian Federation moves its mighty armor formations into Eastern Europe, India begins a massive assault on Pakistan, China immediately rolls into North Korea and Southeast Asia, and the United States, panicking after the foundation of its post-Second World War strength - the nuclear bomb - has collapsed immediately deploys its still-massive navy to patrol both oceans to either side.\n\n**August, 2068**: The world has been consolidated into distinct factions. Eurasia has faced a two-front war, barely holding the line against Chinese divisions in the middle of Siberia, while advancing their western flank to as far as Poland, with heavy fighting in Warsaw. The European Union Combined Force set its goals as purely defensive - pushing Eurasia back and keeping the Mediterranean clear of non-European vessels. China has taken both Koreas and all of Southeast Asia while making large in-roads into Eurasia. Japan, the United Kingdom, and Israel have all walled themselves off from the world at large, closing land borders and ports using military force. The United States has de facto annexed Canada while using its military to pacify rogue elements in Mexico.\n\n**January, 2069**: Eurasia has collapsed, resulting in massive turmoil in Eastern Europe and Northwestern Asia. China has faced extreme difficulty keeping their troops supplied in the face of strong domestic protest. The EU has reclaimed its lost land and uses North Africa as a base of operations to obtain the resources it needs in the face of global war. Africa at large has fallen into complete chaos, with basic infrastructure breaking down as countries begin collapsing - death tolls in the tens of millions are common as shortages of basic necessities take hold. The United States has re-established a firm Monroe Doctrine, using its vast navy to warn off anyone from its resource-extraction of the rest of the Americas.\n\n**2070**: Both India and China's governments collapse in face of overwhelming population pressures, sending a third of the world's population into chaos. The United Kingdom has also fallen, its closed nature making it difficult for it to negotiate for the resources it needs or to take them by force.\n\n**2075**: The global death toll for the Resource War stretches into the billions - the world population is less than half of what it was in 2065. Less humans live on Earth than any time since 1965.\n\n**2080s**: Critical shortages of the basic building blocks of modern civilization - water and food - cause mass panic worldwide as global supplies of important resources like silicon and steel cause worldwide breakdown. In the 2080s, the US will join the list of failed states, as does the EU after the multi-national coalition falls apart. The last standing government in the world is Japan, but even it is stretched to the brink.\n\n**2090s**: The 2090s saw the collapse of the world's last formal government. Anarchy reigns, and while there are pockets of crudely-made civilization left, the first era of the state has ended. While people survive around the world and make a life for themselves in a post-order Earth, there remain many who remember and wonder about a simple question:\n\n*Would it have been better had the nukes gone off?*"
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[WP] We live in a universe where people don't age until they've learned everything they need to advance to their next year. How old are you and what lesson are you stuck on?
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"“It’s really not that hard, Emma.”\n\nThe government has finally assigned me a private tutor. I failed the age up test again last week. My inability to tie my shoes has kept me at Age 6 for several cycles now. I should probably learn before the next cycle, or they’ll consider me for a Learning Disability Exemption, which will put me at higher probability of future age promotions without learning all the Essential Skills, and might interfere with future job opportunities.\n\nIt never ceases to amaze me how stupid adults can be. I’ve been able to do every other learned skill and dexterity test for ages, and yet they’re willing to believe that I’m really struggling to learn to tie my shoes.\n\nOnce you hit Age 7, class time goes from four hours a day to six. No thank you.\n\nAnd anyway, I want to be an astronaut, and my best chance at that opportunity is to be incredibly knowledgeable before I even start vocational schooling at Age 18.\n\nSure, I’ll have a longer attention span once I age up a couple years, and critical thinking skills are supposed to advance rapidly over my next few years, but my current capabilities for extra-curricular learning are just fine, thank you very much, and anyway, I’m not ready to give up Puzzle Time just yet."
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