Split (1)

train · 199k rows

post_text stringlengths 0 17.5k	post_title stringlengths 8 314	comment_texts listlengths 1 74	num_stories int64 1 74
	[WP] A time traveler from the future arrives in present day, claiming to have a message that will save humanity from an impending disaster. As he tries to deliver the message, he must evade those who would stop him and uncover the truth behind the disaster.	[ "Welcome to the Prompt! All top-level comments must be a story or poem. Reply here for other comments.\n\nReminders:\n\n>* Stories at least 100 words. Poems, 30 but include \"[Poem]\"\n>* Responses don't have to fulfill every detail\n>* See [Reality Fiction](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/search?q=flair%3A%22Reality+Fiction%22&restrict_sr=on&sort=new&t=all) and [Simple Prompts](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/search?q=flair%3A%22Simple+Prompt%22&restrict_sr=on&sort=new&t=all) for stricter titles\n>* [Be civil](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_10.3A_be_civil) in any feedback and follow the [rules](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules)\n\n&#127381; [New Here?](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) \n&#9999; [Writing Help?](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/index#wiki_writing_resources) \n&#128226; [News](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements) \n&#128172; [Discord](https://discord.gg/writingprompts)\n\nI am a bot, and this action was performed automatically. Please [contact the moderators of this subreddit](/message/compose/?to=/r/WritingPrompts) if you have any questions or concerns.", "Hi u/BlackMarketButter, this submission has been removed.\n\nNo recent reposts, even if changing small details Also, no [copy-cats](http://i.imgur.com/38FjDgW.gifv).\n\nSearch before submitting as popular ideas can cause floods. If your idea is based on something you read elsewhere on reddit, chances are it's been submitted here already. Please wait at least 2 weeks before reposting.\n\n \n\n\n\n* [From Rule 5: No recent reposts, even if changing small details](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_5.3A_no_recent_reposts.2C_even_if_changing_small_details)\n\n---\n\n\n\n---\n\n[Modmail](https://www.reddit.com/message/compose?to=%2Fr%2FWritingPrompts&subject=Removed%20post&message=https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/zygmux/-/%0A%0A) us if you have any questions or concerns. In the future, please refer to the [sidebar](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/config/sidebar) before posting. \n\nThis action was not automated and this moderator is human. Time to go do human things." ]	2
	[WP] Two best friends are trying to stay best friends while the narrator tries to make them lovers	[ "Welcome to the Prompt! All top-level comments must be a story or poem. Reply here for other comments.\n\nReminders:\n\n>* Stories at least 100 words. Poems, 30 but include \"[Poem]\"\n>* Responses don't have to fulfill every detail\n>* See [Reality Fiction](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/search?q=flair%3A%22Reality+Fiction%22&restrict_sr=on&sort=new&t=all) and [Simple Prompts](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/search?q=flair%3A%22Simple+Prompt%22&restrict_sr=on&sort=new&t=all) for stricter titles\n>* [Be civil](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_10.3A_be_civil) in any feedback and follow the [rules](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules)\n\n&#127381; [New Here?](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) \n&#9999; [Writing Help?](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/index#wiki_writing_resources) \n&#128226; [News](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements) \n&#128172; [Discord](https://discord.gg/writingprompts)\n\nI am a bot, and this action was performed automatically. Please [contact the moderators of this subreddit](/message/compose/?to=/r/WritingPrompts) if you have any questions or concerns.", "Damien looked deeply into Lexi's honey-colored gaze, and in it found acceptance, friendship, and perhaps something--- \n\nLexi elbowed him, hard. \n\nHe coughed, nearly choking on his spit. Damien clutched his abdomen, gasping for air. She'd gotten him good, right in the solar plexus. \n\n\"It's fuckin' happening again!\" She hissed. \n\nLexi was a woman of intense passion, nobody had been able to handle her all her life, but Damien? Damien was different, with his dark, luscious hair, and deep, mysterious gaze. He--\n\n\"Did they change the definition of passion while I was out?\" He breathed, having regained his bearings. He'd been unconscious for a day, the result of a rival finding him alone and vulnerable, looking for supplies. He'd been thoroughly robbed. Not even the package of extra spicy ramen had been left on his person, the one hidden in his pants. \n\nLexi snorted, tensing up as the disembodied voice continued. \n\nDamien had always been a provider, he cared for his people, and his people cared for him, a natural-born leader. It was one of the things that attracted Lexi to him, his inner strength. He was everything she--\n\n\"What is this thing on?\" She said, staring at the tiled ceiling of the abandoned supermarket. Lexi had been the one to save him from a horde. The closest thing to leadership he'd exhibited recently was helping her over a chain link fence while she'd been injured. \n\nAfter he'd left his clan--\n\n\"Wait, how--\" Damien sputtered. \n\n\"Clan?\" Lexi muttered, then realization...and fury hit. Her neck snapped toward him, her 'honeyed' gaze turning a beastly gold. \n\n\"*You said the hunters abandoned-\\-\" \n\n\"I, Lex--wait, I can explain\" He stuttered. \n\nIt was love, love at first blood.*" ]	2
	[WP] A young werewolf prematurely transforms for the first time due to a stressful situation. Pack mates transform and pursue them to keep them from accidentally hurting someone.	[ "Welcome to the Prompt! All top-level comments must be a story or poem. Reply here for other comments.\n\nReminders:\n\n>* Stories at least 100 words. Poems, 30 but include \"[Poem]\"\n>* Responses don't have to fulfill every detail\n>* See [Reality Fiction](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/search?q=flair%3A%22Reality+Fiction%22&restrict_sr=on&sort=new&t=all) and [Simple Prompts](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/search?q=flair%3A%22Simple+Prompt%22&restrict_sr=on&sort=new&t=all) for stricter titles\n>* [Be civil](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_10.3A_be_civil) in any feedback and follow the [rules](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules)\n\n&#127381; [New Here?](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) \n&#9999; [Writing Help?](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/index#wiki_writing_resources) \n&#128226; [News](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements) \n&#128172; [Discord](https://discord.gg/writingprompts)\n\nI am a bot, and this action was performed automatically. Please [contact the moderators of this subreddit](/message/compose/?to=/r/WritingPrompts) if you have any questions or concerns.", "#\"AWOOOOOOOOOO!\"\n\nWithin minutes, the pack had assemble among the various boulders of a clearing in the forest.\n\n\"Koda, why do you sound the emergency howl?\" Chief wolf asked.\n\nThe muscular behemoth that was Koda bore a grim look, he could feel his wife staring daggers into him. Hopping down to the thickly grassed earth, Koda prostrated himself before the pack.\n\n\"My brethren, there has been a slight inconve-.\" \n\nKoda's wife cleared her throat.\n\nKoda reassessed the situation.\n\n\"... My brethren, I have made a grave error. My little Kiya and I got into a dispute. I pushed them over the limit and she transformed for the first time.\"\n\n\"Wait! Kiya is still 15 cycles away from her howling, is she not? She shouldn't be able to transform.\" a random pack member spoke.\n\n\"Yes, that is the issue. It was a premature howling. Now she is headed for the town. I beg of you, please help us retrieve our little Kiya. I don't know what I'd do if anything we're to happen to her.\"\n\n\"I do.\" Koda's wife muttered from behind, causing a bead of sweat to form on his forehead and a few pack members to step back.\n\nChief Wolf placed a hand to his chin. \"Hm, this is indeed a conundrum. Premature howlers are the most savage of us all, Kiya will likely roast the entire town alive by late noon if we do not stop her.\" Chief Wolf paced a few times. \"It is settled. Kiya's assault on the town may negatively impact human views on werewolf-kind if we allow her to cause too much damage. This is now a pack problem, as such we shall aid Koda and Miyi in the hunting of their daughter.\"\n\nChief Wolf halfway transformed into his wolf like state and let out a droning howl pervade far beyond the county edge. A howl that let distant packs know to patrol their territory borders. The signal of loose pre-howler. The hunt began.\n\nEveryone fully transformed and, like the wind, the pack dashed a brisk 20 meters to the parking garage that held their vehicles. After placing their seatbelts on and getting situated, the fleet of carpoolers headed to the town. \n\nUpon reaching the town, everyone stepped out of their cars and began to walk through town. Kiya's wrath was blatantly visible. One could see:\n\n- Structures vandalized by claw markings in impossible to reach places\n\nSome wolves brought out their cleaning supplies. \"Don't worry, we'll clean up this graffiti.\" The cleaning crew jumped many meters into the air and began to diligently clean.\n\n- Scared home owners at their doorsteps panicked and confused, talking on their phones (likely to the police).\n\nA group of teenage werewolves separated. \"Classic signs of ding-dong-ditch. Don't worry we'll take responsibility say it was us. The teens radiated out, each to a house, taking responsibility for Kiya's actions.\n\n- Multiple individuals lying on the ground clutching their chests. Some being held close by their loved ones.\n\nA female of the pack stepped forward. \"I got this. I'm a therapist.\" Going to a side walk she set up a stand with a big sign that said 'FREE THERAPY SESSIONS'. The people that were lying down got up and formed a long line.\n\n- A small angry mob with pitchfork and torches forming outside of a building.\n\nLast to remain with Koda and his wife, Chief Wolf stepped forward. \"They're exiting the theatre, I think I can speak their language and calm them.\" Chief Wolf ripped of his garment to reveal a skin tight suit underneath. Pirouetting over, Chief Wolf transitioned into a smooth salsa. In retaliation, the angry mob began to perform a cossack squat dance.\n\n\n\nIn the distance a few kids ran from around a corner screaming. \n\n\"Our Kiya must be near there!\" Miyi said. \n\nTaking his wife's hand, Koda ran with her to where they had seen the children run from. Rounding the corner they saw their half transformed Kiya growling at the town sheriff whom she had backed into a corner. The plump man had his shotgun trained on her.\n\n\"N-now settle down l-little wolf. Y-you don't have to do this.\" The sheriff said, arms trembling.\n\nKiya barred her fangs. \n\n\"YOU HAVE AN UNHEALTHY LIFESTYLE!\" Kiya yelled with killing intent. \n\nThe sheriff lurched backwards as if he had been shot and dropped his shotgun.\n\n\"YOU BUY OUT THE LOCAL DONUT SHOP ON TUESDAYS BECAUSE YOU KNOW YOU'LL NEVER FIND LOVE AND TRY TO FILL THAT HOLE IN YOUR LIFE WITH FOOD WHILE YOU CRY YOURSELF TO SLEEP AT MIDNIGHT WATCHING ROM COMS!\" \n\nThe sheriff threw himself against the wall and clutched his chest. \"P-please have m-mercy\"\n\nKoda cried out to his daughter. \"Kiya, wait! Don't do it!\"\n\nWhen Kiya turned to see her father, she gave him a malice filled glare before turning her attention back the sheriff.\n\n\"You're...\"\n\nThe sheriff pleaded, knowing what was coming next. \"No, wait, please, no, n-!\"\n\n\"...Fffffffffffat.\" ^(fat fat fat fat) Kiya's voices echoed.\n\n\n[Uaaa uaaa uaaa uaaa uaaa](https://youtu.be/XNUwngk0lI0) K.O! \n\nThe sheriff landed flat on his back clutching his chest like the others seen before. \n\nKoda yelled, \"Kiya stop this madness please!\"\n\nMiyi looked to her daughter teary eyed, \"Kiya, please, just come home.\"\n\nKiya lashed with refusal. However, after having a long drawn out emotional talk to resolve the family issue I never actually thought of, Kiya and her parents made up with each other.\n\nKiya fumbled her fingers a little, \"Hey, uh mom, dad ... what about the town?\"\n\n\"Don't worry sweetheart,\" Miyi began.\n\n\"Every werewolf pack is always equipped to deal with situations like these.\" Koda finished. \"Now let's gather everyone up and head ho-\"\n\nRounding the corner, the were greeted by blaring electro-swing music. Chief Wolf was performing the SpongeBob and bouncing his hands in the air while the mob default danced. \"DON'T STOP ME NOW! I'M ON A ROLL!\" Chief Wolf yelled upon seeing them round the corner. Many of the buildings indentations, the werewolves strength had caused them to not only scrub away Kiya's graffiti, but also a lot of the brick as well. The therapist and her clients sat in someone's yard, all wearing blankets and eating a tub of ice cream while watching a romance movie on a projector. The teenage wolves were all being pinched by the ears by adults whose houses were now decorated in toilet paper and egg yolk.\n\nKoda reassessed the situation. \".... On second thought, let's just take the back way and walk home.\"" ]	2
	[WP] Every year, all humans on earth are ranked by their beauty. This year, the one ranked the ugliest was a small baby.	[ "Welcome to the Prompt! All top-level comments must be a story or poem. Reply here for other comments.\n\nReminders:\n\n>* Stories at least 100 words. Poems, 30 but include \"[Poem]\"\n>* Responses don't have to fulfill every detail\n>* See [Reality Fiction](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/search?q=flair%3A%22Reality+Fiction%22&restrict_sr=on&sort=new&t=all) and [Simple Prompts](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/search?q=flair%3A%22Simple+Prompt%22&restrict_sr=on&sort=new&t=all) for stricter titles\n>* [Be civil](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_10.3A_be_civil) in any feedback and follow the [rules](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules)\n\n&#127381; [New Here?](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) \n&#9999; [Writing Help?](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/index#wiki_writing_resources) \n&#128226; [News](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements) \n&#128172; [Discord](https://discord.gg/writingprompts)\n\nI am a bot, and this action was performed automatically. Please [contact the moderators of this subreddit](/message/compose/?to=/r/WritingPrompts) if you have any questions or concerns.", "Nobody looks good when they come out of the womb. After all, you've been cramped up inside the equivalent of a wet sleeping bag for the last nine months, and that never does anyone's skin any favors. Compound that with the conniptions that a human skull and body has to go through to fit through a 10-centimeter hole. You get the picture.\n\n\nFor as long as anyone could remember, every year the annual beauty rankings would rank someone in their late teens to late 20's as the most beautiful. There was no question there. The world's ugliest was a far more diverse crew. Often you'd have a newborn infant, an intellectually impaired adult, or sometimes someone freshly plucked from a terrible accident. Sometimes there would even be someone very, very old. But a baby was certainly not an uncommon occurrence.\n\n\nI turned to look at my husband to see how he was taking the news. His face had the expression of a bowl of ice cream that had been neglected for a few minutes too long. I suppose it was just as unfair to him as it was to me that the annual beauty ranking had been held a mere seven and a half seconds after our bald, scratched-up, wrinkled, bawling daughter had finally been born. After a very long 36 hours of labor it was the last thing either of us needed.\n\n\n\"Don't worry\", I heard myself saying. \"They usually don't look this way for very long.\"" ]	2
	[WP] In middle of a battlefield, the disgruntled lake goddess appears in front of soldiers who had unfortunately tossed their grenades and artillery shells into the lake with a simple question. "Did you drop this undetonated active golden explosive, or this undetonated active silver explosive?"	[ "Welcome to the Prompt! All top-level comments must be a story or poem. Reply here for other comments.\n\nReminders:\n\n>* Stories at least 100 words. Poems, 30 but include \"[Poem]\"\n>* Responses don't have to fulfill every detail\n>* See [Reality Fiction](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/search?q=flair%3A%22Reality+Fiction%22&restrict_sr=on&sort=new&t=all) and [Simple Prompts](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/search?q=flair%3A%22Simple+Prompt%22&restrict_sr=on&sort=new&t=all) for stricter titles\n>* [Be civil](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_10.3A_be_civil) in any feedback and follow the [rules](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules)\n\n&#127381; [New Here?](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) \n&#9999; [Writing Help?](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/index#wiki_writing_resources) \n&#128226; [News](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements) \n&#128172; [Discord](https://discord.gg/writingprompts)\n\nI am a bot, and this action was performed automatically. Please [contact the moderators of this subreddit](/message/compose/?to=/r/WritingPrompts) if you have any questions or concerns.", "\"Well, we uh.......\"\n\n\"ANSWER THE QUESTION!!!!!!!!!\"\n\n\"We were fighting the enemy, and yes, we did fire mortars and throw grenades as far as we could towards them on the shoreline on the other side of this lake, but, we didn't mean to throw any weapons in this natural resource.\"\n\n\"FOOLISH MORTALS!!!!!!!!!\" The goddess yells. \"DO YOU NOT REALIZE THE SEVERITY OF WHAT YOU HAVE DONE???? IF I HAD NOT INTERVENED, DO YOU KNOW HOW MANY FISH AND OTHER UNDERWATER SPECIES WOULD HAVE DIED????\"\n\n\"Well, sure, but we didn't mean to throw them in there.\" \n\n\"INTENT DOES NOT MATTER!!!!! YOU COULD HAVE KILLED THEM ALL THE SAME!!!!!!\"\n\nWith a wave of her hand, the water goddess flings massive amounts of water, submerging the men instantly. \n\nAt first, the men struggle to hold their breath, as the water gets deeper and deeper, but something strange happens.\n\nFeet turn into fins, lungs turn into gills, and skin turns into scales. The men shrink into their new fishy bodies, and the goddess returns the lake to its normal height. She turns to the men on the other side of the lake, who are trembling with fear.\n\n\"LET THE FATE OF THESE MEN BE A WARNING TO YOU. IF YOU SO MUCH EVEN THINK ABOUT HARMING MY LAKE, I WILL SEE TO IT THAT WORSE IS DONE TO YOU!\"\n\nThe men on the other side of the lake panic, dropping their weapons and fleeing.\n\nWith that, the goddess disposes of the weapons on land and buries them deep underground, then returns to her lake. She meets her new underwater citizens with pride.\n\nShe smiles at the former men. \"You will have to live under my care and protection for the rest of your lives as fish. Hope and pray that no one is as reckless to nature as you were.\"\n\nSoon after, the war ends, and both sides quickly form a peace treaty, vowing never to go near the goddess's lake ever again because of the events that transpired. \n\nAnd so, the lake, its new inhabitants, and the goddess that protected it lived in peace, free from the destructive powers of man.\n\nThe End" ]	2
	[WP] You are one of the most powerful beings in the world, but you were content to just be a "normal" civilian. However, the heroes failed to stop the local doomsday monster and you had to step in. Now the superheroes want you to join them, and random villains keep showing up to challenge you.	[ "Welcome to the Prompt! All top-level comments must be a story or poem. Reply here for other comments.\n\nReminders:\n\n>* Stories at least 100 words. Poems, 30 but include \"[Poem]\"\n>* Responses don't have to fulfill every detail\n>* See [Reality Fiction](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/search?q=flair%3A%22Reality+Fiction%22&restrict_sr=on&sort=new&t=all) and [Simple Prompts](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/search?q=flair%3A%22Simple+Prompt%22&restrict_sr=on&sort=new&t=all) for stricter titles\n>* [Be civil](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_10.3A_be_civil) in any feedback and follow the [rules](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules)\n\n&#127381; [New Here?](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) \n&#9999; [Writing Help?](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/index#wiki_writing_resources) \n&#128226; [News](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements) \n&#128172; [Discord](https://discord.gg/writingprompts)\n\nI am a bot, and this action was performed automatically. Please [contact the moderators of this subreddit](/message/compose/?to=/r/WritingPrompts) if you have any questions or concerns.", "\"Selfish git\" the head of the 'Hyper-Sapien League for Global Defense', 'HSLGD' or, my personal favourite, used by supervillains everywhere (and I mean real supervillains, ones who have outsmarted the world's brightest countless times): The Crackheads. The name originally came from a widespread 'rumour' that they'd all gotten their powers artificially. That is, exposing themselves to different chemicals and radiation in hopes that they gain a superpower. \n\"How am I selfish? I stepped out of retirement to save the world, that's not selfish.\" \n\"You knew we were having trouble! And you did nothing! Dark Light is dead!\" Dark Light was one of the more interesting superheroes. The ability to encapsulate his surroundings in a dark so thick you could choke on it. I also happen to know that he hadn't always used his powers for good. \n\"Who's fucking idea was it to send a single hero to try and disarm it? Cause his blood is on their hands, not mine.\" I said, and stormed out of their precious 'HQ'. I should've just left this world and started a new life somewhere else. I probably could have as well, with the power of that machine. The first ever fusion reactor, and the guy to get his hands on it decides to hold the world to ransom with it. Pity, humanity could've used that little toy. I warped back to my home, the sensation used to feel weird about 10,000 years ago. Now it feels like second nature. There was someone in my living room. \n\"Hello, David Jackson,\" they said in a forced menacing voice. I just burst out laughing, air escaping my lungs as if a fire was raging down there. Well, I guess there is actually. The reason I'd picked such a mundane name was to blend in but it just sounds too good when said in the classic evil villain voice. \n\"Name?\" \n\"I.... uh,\" Their act dropped for a bit before picking up the menacing voice again. \"I am Crow's Nest, and you'd do well to do as I say.\" \n\"Oh really? And why would that be?\" I asked, and the boy opened his mouth. \"You know what? no. I don't fancy the knowledge at the moment.\" I said and charged before he could do anything. What should I use? Divine retribution, pagan torture or demonic tomfuckery? I decided a mix of the three, but by the time I'd started the spells I couldn't see a thing. I'd faced Dark Light a couple times before, he was a lot older than all of the other heroes, but not nearly as old as me. But this power definitely reminded me of him. But this isn't Dark Light, not the one I remembered anyway. He was more cartoon villain than before, and he never went picking fights with me. Well, not after the first one anyway. \n\"Like my little trick?\" \n\"Not really,\" I said as I burst forth into one of the many forms I'd taken over the years, Archangel Gabriel himself. I confess he used to exist, but I went and slaughtered the self righteous assholes that call themselves divine. They sent millions of people into hell because they didn't believe in christianity WHEN THERE WAS NO CHRISTIANITY DURING THEIR LIFETIME! I did the same to hell as well, those debaucherous fuckwits never learned to just stop bothering me and my village. Anyway, one upside to that is that I was able to absorb Gabriel's life force, meaning I lit up the room as bright as a star. My attacker screamed as his retinas were blinded. I quickly resumed my normal form and, with a flick of my wrist had him tied up and warped onto the HSLGD dining table with a nice little note from me. Now, what was I about to do? Ah yes, my tea." ]	2
	[WP] There are two types of rebels in the world. Young, plucky heroes with a prophecy and plot armor, and grim faced, dirt streaked insurgents with old Soviet guns and handmade explosives. The problem comes when these two groups team up.	[ "Welcome to the Prompt! All top-level comments must be a story or poem. Reply here for other comments.\n\nReminders:\n\n>* Stories at least 100 words. Poems, 30 but include \"[Poem]\"\n>* Responses don't have to fulfill every detail\n>* See [Reality Fiction](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/search?q=flair%3A%22Reality+Fiction%22&restrict_sr=on&sort=new&t=all) and [Simple Prompts](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/search?q=flair%3A%22Simple+Prompt%22&restrict_sr=on&sort=new&t=all) for stricter titles\n>* [Be civil](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_10.3A_be_civil) in any feedback and follow the [rules](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules)\n\n&#127381; [New Here?](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) \n&#9999; [Writing Help?](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/index#wiki_writing_resources) \n&#128226; [News](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements) \n&#128172; [Discord](https://discord.gg/writingprompts)\n\nI am a bot, and this action was performed automatically. Please [contact the moderators of this subreddit](/message/compose/?to=/r/WritingPrompts) if you have any questions or concerns.", "I’m in deep shit now. I’ve been running from the authorities for a week straight and I’m still not safe. So for context on why, I’ll explain. My family started a rebellion years and years ago, that spread everywhere. Now everyone thinks the government is full of shit. (Which is true.) There is one disagreement in the community of rebels. There are 2 groups of rebels. One is a group of annoying goody-two-shoes that believe in “fate” and other bullshit. The other group is a group of “old fashioned pessimists.” I think that’s bullshit. We’re just practical! (I think you can guess which group I’m in by now.) Anyway, back to the present. I may or may not have blew up a building as my form of rebellion… So now I’m in Who-knows-where-land, lying on the ground. Lying on the ground? Just now, I realized that I shouldn’t be lying on the ground. Suddenly, I felt a sharp pain in my stomach. I was horrified as I realized there was blood all over. Shit, I must’ve been shot on my way out! I would’ve called for help, except I’m in Who-knows-where-land, and one wrong move and I’ll be caught and hanged. I looked around and spotted a boy who looked around my age. He was quite handsome, with curly golden hair and bright, violet eyes. So bright, I noticed with a dizzy fascination. I thought he noticed me, and I was right. “Oh my god, are you okay?!” he exclaimed. It should be pretty obvious, as there was blood all over. “Does it look like I’m o-“ a sharp pain in my head prevented me from saying anything. I noticed his uniform. The goody-two-shoes uniform. “H-hang in there! I’ll get help! I-I have a first aid kit on me!” he stuttered. He stuttered so much I could barely tell what he was saying. I managed to say “You’re a rebel too?” he took a look at my uniform and said “You’re in the other group! Well…still a rebel. Where did you come from?” I know it was an impulsive decision, but I ended up telling him everything about my failed mission down to the fact I’m a defendant of the original rebels while he bandages my wounds. He nodded and said “Until you find the rest of your group…partners? I’m Noah!” Even though I wasn’t thinking straight, I did think enough to say “We don’t do “partners.” And we DON’T tell strangers our names.” But the disappointed look on his face was enough to change my mind. “Opal.” His response was “Like the gem?” That was the last thing I heard before the world went dark. Later, I woke up in a soft but unfamiliar bed, where I noticed a familiar but unfamiliar face sitting next to me. “I guess fate chose us to be together. Welcome back to the land of the living, partner!” he said. I came back to my senses, shocked at this unfamiliar setting. “Who are you, and where am I?!”", "One by one, a few dozen nervous teenagers walked toward the announcement stage for the SELECTION. The setup resembled a simple blood drive. The atmosphere was made more foreboding however, as cameras and speakers were strewn everywhere for broadcasting, and COMMITTEE soldiers - also known as 'Pacifiers' - stood guard to eliminate the sources of any potential outbursts. \n\n'I'm nervous, Blaze.' The words came from a serious-looking girl whose long dark hair pooled down her shoulders. Her eyes were glued onto the live footage of the stage - even as she was loading her equipment from the back of their truck. 'You're going to follow the plan, right? This is crucial. We can't allow any scewups. Or rogue rebels forgetting instructions.' Her brows furrowed into a worrying expression. \n\n She felt a pair of sturdy hands on her shoulders. A confident looking fiery-haired boy pulled her to face him. His hazel eyes shone with assurance. \n\n'You've got nothing to worry about, Zel. I'll stick to the plan this time.' He grinned. 'Even if it's not really my style. You can count on me.' \n\n'So, all we are doing is destroying the blood coolers right?' \n\n'Almost. We'll spill the blood coolers to stall the selection, but we'll also try to bring awareness to the rebel faction by announcing who we are on the cameras. Hunter and Petra and the others will use the smoke bombs we got to distract the Pacifiers in the meantime. We'll wait for their signal to move from here. We don't have the manpower or influence to rescue all the participants yet, but hopefully we can make some waves with this.' \n\n'Woah, I'm going to be on TV?' Blaze laughed. Zella rolled her eyes but couldn't restrain a faint smile. \n\nThe truck suddenly screeched to a stop. They heard footsteps from their fellow rebels head towards the stage. Clicks sounded and some smoke wafted into the back of the truck. Then...gunshots. And screaming. What was happening? \n\nZella pulled open the truck gate. 'Wait - what about the signal -?' Blaze grabbed her but she slipped from his grasp. 'Forget the signal! That was Petra's voice!' Zella ran. 'Petra? Petra?!' \n\nIn front of her onstage, was Petra, passed out and being taken away by people in tattered clothes. 'Take Zella to the back!' One shouted. The voice sounded older. Somehow he knew her name. \n\n'How d- No. Get your hands off her!' Zella shouted. She charged towards the assailers but several appear behind her and restrain her. She feels a heavy blow to the back of her head and sees black.\n\nThe first sight that greeted her was a haggard looking woman sitting feet-crossed from her. Behind her were cameras - that showed the Zella and her friends at their underground base, Zella at her selection, a pristine and empty white room filled with computers, young Zella before her selection in her house with her family. Zella then noticed her arms and wrists were bound and her mouth had been covered in tape. \n\n'Sorry about that back there. Your friends are safe. And we will untie you - but only if you listen to us.'\n\nZella nodded.\n\nThe woman leaned towards her. Her expression was solemn. 'This might be hard to hear, but please believe me. You are fighting for nothing. The 'COMMITTEE' doesn't exist. The 'SELECTION' doesn't exist. You were being recorded this whole time -' She gestured to the cameras behind her. 'Your family was in on it. They were actors. All your families were actors.'\n\nThe woman dug in the pocket of her dust-covered jeans. She held something small in front of Zella. It was a plastic rendition of her in a defiant pose, with a small placard toward the bottom. 'Zella - Rebel leader against the Purity castes. Licensed by Seek TV.' \n\n'That's you. A figurine of you. You're on t-shirts too. There's some of you and Blaze together too. You've been surveilled for entertainment. We've interrupted your big rescue mission, to rescue you. Your resistance plan was supposed to be a season finale, and it was all rigged for your rebel faction to win at the end.'\n\n'In the real world, some of us found it inhumane that you kids' lives were completely fabricated. It was clearly unethical. The real world -our world - is rampant with war and poverty. We've been fighting for so long now, no one can be sure which sides were good or bad. That's why your program was invented. That's why parents enrolled kids like you to live a life with simpler conditions, as they saw it. There have been kids pulled from the program - most have committed suicide now because they didn't know what to expect coming into the real world and couldn't face that they were always lied to. Stopping your program was only the beginning. We want to put an end to the rest of these programs.'\n\nThe woman peeled back Zella's tape. \n\n'Now the question is, will you join us?'", "Bianca was walking through the woods near the hideout. She couldn't get the image of Aiden lifting her up from the broken cave last week. Emotions she didn't know how to name flooded her mind, only taken to attention when she heard a noise coming from behind a bush.\n\n\n\"Who's there?\" she ask-yelled, unsheathing her sword of light.\n\n\n\"Finally, someone.\" answered a coarse voice, and out emerged a man barely taller than Bianca, dressed only in heavu combat boots, beige trousers, and an otherwise white tank top. He came with a rifle slung on his shoulder, and a first aid kit. Dry blood adorned his dirty self.\n\n\n\"Gosh what happened to you?\" She said, putting her sword away, \"come, we have food and a washing machine inside.\"\n\n\n\"Wha'appened to you? You's all sparkly and stuff. Why do you have a sword? You ain't gonna kill a crippled rabbit with a sword... Ahh, wha'ever. You got more hands? I need ta get my troop out'f a pit trap.\" He stopped to spit out a piece of bark mixed with drool, and started walking past Bianca.\n\n\nShe caught up and started walking alongside the ragged man. \"Where are your friends, anyways? We'll have to know how long to travel.\"\n\n\n\"I'unno. Few days out? This long dark is messin up our internal clocks.\"\n\n\n\"Yeah. But we'll defeat the night bringers and bring light to the world again!\"\n\n\nHe raised an eyebrow at her. \"You's gonna need som'thn' better than a pointy stick for that, here.\" He unholsted his sidearm and presented the handle to her. \"Name's Ivan, by the way.\"" ]	4
Your prompt is the following: Write as long a story as you can about a time traveller who is stuck in a particular year. What year is he from? What year is he stuck in? How did he get stuck? What is he currently doing? Does he have a plan on how to get home? Now the fun part: If there are any completed stories, try to write an abridged version of some of them. Condense it to however small you'd like. (Please avoid the term "tl;dr" on this one. Also, make the abridged version longer than a single sentence.) The idea of this exercise is to aid people in learning the art of brevity and seeing what parts people took away from a particular story. So, have at it. Be superfluous. Have fun!	[WP] Here's a fun one... Write something long, other Redditors will write an "abridged version"	[ "#I haven't written anything substantial in a few days but here goes. Also, I feel like this is the subreddit to brag to that I got an 8/9 on a recent argumentative piece I wrote in 30 minutes by hand!\n\nHeads dizzy, eyes sealed shut, ear drums popping like all hell, the Chrononauts all wondered why the they signed up for this. The capsules containing each tortured soul kept their bodies stable, yet uncomfortable while they waited to be compressed into a light beam.\n\n\"Systems look good, all body signs stable, lets go ahead and fire off capsules one and two, we'll follow up with five and seven. The rest I want to stabilize for a few more minutes\" came the calm voice of the Operations Commander ordered. \n\nDeep within the chronoshift facility, a thousand laborers worked to keep the firing cables at precisely 298.6 kelvin while the chrononauts stood their torture for a few more moments. Each laborer hardly deserved the term; each and every one of them had at least a masters in physics or biology, among the ranks of the Laborers two hundred of the world's top doctors monitored each and every bodily function of the chrononauts.\n\n\"On my count we fire of capsules one and two\"\n\nHands flew over the pristine workstations at the fingertips of each laborer in the control room.\n\n\"Capsule one firing system is go\" one operator called out\n\n\"Capsule one biotic systems are go\" yelled another\n\n\"Neutrino capturing system is go\" another voice indicated.\n\nThe Operations Commander stood at the end of a dozen years' obsession, his command determines the result of a million peoples' efforts.\n\n\"All systems normal, can someone affirm that?\"\n\n\"Affirmed\" \n\n\"Alright, Fire capsules one and two\"\n\nThe entire station went dark. Every heart in the room stood still as the megalith firing system shuddered to life. Resonating in every chest, the low rumble of the neutrino accelerator gave the only evident life to the room. Suddenly, a bright cobalt-blue light burst into the cavernous Operations Command Center and just as quickly died.\n\n\"Re-report on biotic systems\" the Commander demanded weakly.\n\n\"All systems normal for capsules one and two\" the first Laborer responded.\n\n\"Thank god. Re-engage systems to fire capsules five, seven, and eight.\"\n\nThe process repeated itself three times over, the sudden blackout, crippling tension, piercing light, weak demands about systems from the commander, and the final declaration of safety of the chrononauts.\n\n\"Are capsules four, six, and nine ready to fire?\" The commander asked\n\n\"Capsule six is compromised, possible compromise on nine, but four is reporting normal signs\"\n \nCompromised. The word rang through the commander's head. \n\n\"Doctor, is capsule six recoverable\" the Commander whispered into his radio.\n\n\"Negative\" a dismayed voice crackled. The word carried heavy implications.\n\n\"Dear god, isolate it, the poor bastard....\" the Commander went to his chair and sat in it defeated.\n\n\"Fire capsule four.\"\n\nDark, shudder, deathly silence, brilliant light, meek reports. Compromised. \n\nCapsule six compromised. The work of a million men only that the unfortunate soul placed in capsule six could die the horrible death of molecular compression. He would sit in his ever shrinking capsule for hours before he would be given a rest. He would not be buried. If a god existed he would not go to heaven thanks to his iconoclastic atheism. His last thoughts would be nothing more than raw, pure agony.\n\n\"Fire capsule nine\"\n\n###Chapter 2: The Chrononauts\n\nCapsule one and two arrived in the middle of the desert at precisely 2:47 PM, December 1st, 2010. They followed their extraordinarily specific orders to wait in place for 13.5 minutes until capsules three to nine had arrived. Any time period longer than 13.5 minutes meant some guy living in the world lived in the blissful ignorance of his awful death in the future. \n\nTHUNK \n\nJason and Castor stood heard the distinguishing sound of the next capsule arriving. They both walked across the sun-tortured desert toward the source of the sound. The three-meter crater surrounding the bright blue pod started to solidify as glass in patches. \n\nTHUNK THUNK THUNK THUNK \n\nEach capsule arrived at nearly the same time: 2:49 PM, December 1st, 2010. Castor and Jason came first due to their seniority in the group.\n\n\"Is everyone accounted for?\" Jason asked of the Chrononauts\n\n\"All but one\" a stocky 'naut nicknamed Actor replied.\n\n\"I'm seeing every capsule but six here\" Castor told Jason.\n\n\"Yeah, that's what I'm seeing.\" Give him a few more moments.\n\nThe moments in the sun ticked away as the chrononauts concealed their capsules with rudimentary camoflauge. \n\n\"Poor bastard\" Castor said after 9 minutes\n\n\"Yeah\" the reply was almost unanimous from the remaining of the group.\n\nThe chrononauts ventured away from their time-travelling capsules and over the dunes to find the vehicle that would undoubtedly be awaiting them. \n\nAfter finding their cars and a fifteen hour drive to Cairo, the Chrononauts were ready to undertake their mission. Completely unarmed, the group spread wide-scale dissent among the people, each of the eight remaining told every person who would listen of the bright future awaiting them, their 'golden fleece'. \n\nWaging war against the government by using the people, a plan that could only be thought up through careful analysis of the geopolitical situation of 2089, the year the group entered their coffins. \n\nAfter weeks of careful seeding and manipulation, the group had just managed to set off the political time bomb that would have otherwise been averted entirely. The entire region came off its rocker in a matter of four years. The US and Britain, seeing the extremely vulnerable middle east, managed to completely monopolize the oil in the region, not even buying from the nations but shipping it directly back to the nations' soil. The chrononauts, having carried out their mission, returned to their capsules and waited for the moment they recieved new orders from 2089.\n\n\n\n#Note from author:\n\nI want to finish this but I ran out of steam, hence the shitty ending. I'm tired. Goodnight.\n\n\n", "I'm planning on adding to this as I go while working.\n\n\nLoop 93\n\n\"Join the Marines\" they said, \"See the world\" they said, \"Meet new and exciting people\" they said. \n\n\"Man, this sucks.\" Valdez' prompt shakes me out of the stupor I had been falling into. \n\n\"I just wish we could have been dropped into an interesting time man, not this bullshit Deep south wannabe crap.\"\n\nI grunted in assent, wanting to shake my head, but Juan did have a point, this timeloop we were responsible for was nothing but crap. He could pass for White, maybe Mediterranean. Me? At 6'4 with short curly black hair and skin darker than pitch, I couldn't help but look like the Sub-Saharan that I was.\n\nI opened my mouth to speak but Juan was on a roll, interrupting my train of thought.\n\n\"It'd be one thing if I could've chosen where to go on my second tour, y'know? Somewhere nice, like maybe Pearl Harbour in 1941. Or the Trinidad campaign back in 2072. But no, I gotta get sent back to 'Monitor and Research'\" - His fingers drew lazy air quotes around the words - \"The JFK assassination. Man, they declassified that shit back in 2068, why the fuck do I gotta go through this? We already know it was done by the ChiCom TROPs, so what are we gonna do? Stop them, and fuck up our own goddamn timeline?\"\n\nI grinned, knowing that this would be one of the last times I would hear this rant on his horrible lot in life. Or at least, this specific one. Juan was not a fan of this assignment, although we both knew that it was important. Bigger shots than us, with far more brass on their shoulders had decided more than fifty years ago that so-called divergence points - areas wherein a matter of inches would have irrevocably changed the course of history - needed to be studied, and every detail meticulously co-ordinated, co-located and about fifteen other co-'s. And then, we would see whether or not we could manipulate them. Of course, we'd never know if it affected anything to the positive, as we were stuck on our own temporal branch.\n\n\"Come on Juan, it's time to go check out that grassy knoll. I wanna see if we can set up some kind of clusterfuckery that'd mess with their shots.\"\n\nOne positive about this timeline though, a Canamerican by way of Somacongo as well as a partner by way of the United Southern Federation aka New New Mexico could definitely do yard work and evaluate greenery without arising suspicions.\n\n\nChapter 2 - Electric Boogaloo \n\nMy mind wandered absently as I looked down the grassy knoll towards Dealey Plaza. Parents wandered by with their children, never quite making eye contact with me. I was simply furniture to them, nothing more than another bit of scenery. It would have been unsettling if not for the aggressive simulationist training we all went through before being certified as TROPs - Temporal Reconnaissance OPerators - A school and simulations that took the hell week that the old wetnavy SEALs had gone through and looped it into two years of gruelling repetition of the most aggressively shitty weather and hell that Mother Earth could send at us. Every one of us TROPs could have had any one of a dozen highly specialized PhDs and worked in the private sector for orders of magnitude more but we stayed. There were only forty or so of us, we only ever worked in pairs and despite what Juans recruiter had said to him, we never got to choose where we were going on our loops.\n\nOne of the interesting side effects of our loops was that due to some quirk of the Quantum Mechanics underlying it, our bodies didn't age while we underwent the loops for four years at a time, but our minds retained everything that we had learned. I was roughly 132 years old, sidereal time of course, and over the course of my four previous tours, I had learned how to play almost every instrument I had found, and somewhat inadvertently convinced a certain Blues Musician that I was the devil, and that I had given him talent in exchange for his soul. I won't tell you which one, that'd be cheating.\n\nOur handlers were very, very well practiced. The way we had all been told that the setups for our In Era Personas, our IEPs were handled and planned out decades in advance, and that they involved people, all volunteers, being sent back with a complete set of documents on a one way trip. Just to start a cover identity that may not be used in seventy years in their home timeline. I was told it was a pretty sweet way to retire, you get to pick your favorite timeline and simply live through it. You can change what you want in small ways, which is how Penicillin was discovered when it was, or in larger ways when deemed appropriate, like the fall of the Wall in 2031.\n\n\"Man, are you okay? You've been wool gathering all goddamn day, and it's not like we have many more loops before we get pulled back into the good old 23rd Century.\" Juans voice was heavy with concern, he was right, I needed to get back and focus on the mission.\n\n\"Sorry Juan, I've just been thinking about retirement you know, I only need to finish up this one then I can muster out. Maybe move up high, into the Crystal Palace, or out onto Phobos.\"\n\n\"Man, that's bullshit, you gonna retire you gotta do it somewhere sweet. Me? I got two more then I'm going to fucking Tahiti. I don't know how they're going to use it, but I'm gonna get me some nice island strange... And set up a cover of course.\"\n\n\"Of course you will Juan, of course.\" I shook my head and turned my attention back to the yardwork I was supposed to be doing, idly raking the leaves. I had already spotted the ChiComs, their identities had been seared into my frontal lobe during the flash training. We couldn't stop them without causing what was officially known as a Collapsed Temporal Wavefront, but was commonly known as the last fuckup you'll never know you made. Every one of us had their own pet theory as to what happened when you changed the past. Juan thought time just stopped on that branch and you were frozen in consciousness and time at that moment for eternity. Mine was a little more common. You started your own branch of the timeline. The problem with my theory though, is that if it's true, you won't get looped back when your two months is up, and you definitely won't get yanked back to home, even if home is in the year 2246." ]	2
	[WP] "To extend a life already lived on borrowed time requires three things..."	[ "“Want to keep living, eh?”\n\nThe witch let out a soft cackle and couched as she turned back towards the small table, now carrying a steaming, stone-hewn goblet. Setting it on the table in front of the young man she said, “Go on, drink it.”\n\n“And this will keep me alive?” he asked breathlessly, his shaking hands already lifting the vessel to his lips. Without waiting for an answer he began gulping the hot liquid with desperation in his eyes\n\n“For a few more seconds anyway. It's tea. You're far too tense. Bad for the heart, you know.” She meandered back to a table by the fireplace of her hovel. It was well-kept, as far as hovels go. While there were odds and ends strewn about and a variety of vials, flasks, cauldrons, cloaks and satchels dangling from hooks and in piles on every horizontal surface and a cabinet full of heads, hearts and other assorted body parts, the witch knew where everything was and moved through the mess with a hobbled grace reserved for the elderly who know more than they let on. Even the layers of dust, dirt, and grime had a place, marking where the goblet held in the young man's hands would soon return.\n\n“Damn it woman!” He slammed the goblet on the table. “What do I care of my heart if I shall die this very night!”\n\n“I should think that having so little life left you might treat it with a little more care. What's more, you come to me demanding I extend your life! If you intend to continue living then your health should be chief among your cares! You don't get to be my age without knowing how to take care of your self! Now finish your tea, settle yourself, and tell me what you know of your impending doom.” She let out a sickly cough and shuffled back to the table and now stood, awaiting the young man's answer.\n\nHer skin was deeply wrinkled and covered in sores. She constantly trembled and her voice had a wet, yet rasping tone. The young man feared she may die even before he would.\n\n“I have seen an omen. Last night I was awakened by a raven on my window sill. It cawed twelve times and then the mirror on my wall cracked straight through the center. I ran to the seer near my village and he saw the ghost of death following me. He would not speak to me, even as I begged him for help. At last he told me that you may be of some help to me and I have come here as fast as I was able. I fear I will die at midnight and look! The night has already fallen! Oh, I am too young to die so soon. There is so much more life to live!” His last words came out as a whimper as he began to sob. “Please keep me alive!”\n\n“Alas, if Fate has snipped your string, then there's not much to be done.”\n\n“Please! There is so much life in me yet! Surely I cannot die now?”\n\n“My dear boy, Fate is not easily avoided. We are all slipping down to the abyss, dangling from our strings. It's a shame that some strings are longer than others, that mine should be so long but yours so short.” As she was speaking the witch took the goblet to a table by the fire. With her back to the young man she asked “Do you sew?”\n\n“Please, witch, time is short!”\n\n“I sew. More often than you'd care to know, in fact. I often times come to the end of a piece of string before I'm done. It is a terrible thing, not having enough string to finish the job. Do you know what I do when that happens?” She returned to the table, again placing the goblet down in front of him.\n\n“Please...”\n\n“Drink up. What I do is I find a bit of string left over from another work. You see, when the I'm sewing I pull whatever string I have out and sew until I'm done. More often than not I have more string than necessary, so I keep the string that serves it's purpose and cut away the rest. So when I need more, I find the tail end of a string too long for the job that was and I tie it onto the end of my own.” The witch started to clear things off the table.\n\nThe young man drank from the goblet. The tea was warming his body from the center and he found himself relaxing.\n\n“Lay down on the table, dearie.”\n\nHe dumbly stood, then laid on the table, looking towards the witch with a glassy-eyed stare. He watched passively as she unbuttoned his shirt and slide the knife down his chest. Her words seemed to stretch forever as his senses faded.\n\n“You see, all I need to extend my life is my string, your string, and the bit you won't need anymore.”", "To extend a life already lived on borrowed time requires three things. First, you need someone in need of the extra time. You know, someone on their deathbed waiting to say goodbye to a loved one. Maybe some guy hanging from his finger tips from a ledge high above the city as the minutes tick by as help gets closer with each passing second. You never know, the reasons may vary but there are always those in need. \n\nNext, you need a donor. Some folks go through their entire lives just wasting the precious minutes they could be savoring. They sleep through an afternoon just because they are bored and have nothing better to do with themselves. They stare mindlessly at the television, not even comprehending what they see and hear. They do it simply because they have nothing better to do. Those people have time to spare.\n\nThe other thing you need is someone like me. I am a time broker. We acquire time from those who have time to burn. Time they will never even notice they lost. We use it where we see fit. Sometimes there is no rhyme or reason. We just take a liking to someone, so we help them out where and when we can.\n\nThere are times, however, when we choose to intervene with a higher purpose in mind. It's a way of guiding your future. We see all time at once, so we know the outcome of each and every little ripple. I remember more than once thinking to myself that if this guy or gal had just lived a little longer, it would have made all the difference in the world.\n\nThat's where I come in.", "Our time is up. The clock's run out. Half past dead. Sunset. You could always \"borrow\" a few extra moments. There are ways of doing that. But even that runs out. To extend a life already lived on borrowed time requires three things: luck, the will to continue living regardless of consequence, and some friends in high places. They say prayer doesn't work; you just need to pray to the right people.\n\nShuffling around the hourglasses for us all are the accountants. Tricky business that. I remember old Rusty Stafford. Good eye for the racket, I'll give him that. He could shift fractions of seconds at a time from a boring car trip or dentist visit, turning an second into nearly an hour. That might not sound like much, but when it's finally time to say goodbye, that's an eternity. Brilliant man, but an awful accountant in practice. Those hourglasses are fragile things. His handling of them, rapidly jumping from piece to piece left a few casualties. On the shop floor, it looked like broken glass and some sand. Down there, it's someone walking out in front of a bus, or a heart attack in good health. Still, he has his job. And those indiscretions are just what make him useful to someone like me.\n\n\"Rusty, how's life?\"\n\nThe old man looks up to face me. \"What is it this time, Slim?\"\n\n\"Got another borrower. Lookin' to see if there's another minute or two to spare.\"\n\nRusty never stops moving the timepieces around on his desk. The man is a machine.\n\n\"You have an ident number?\"\n\nI slide a business card on his table's only sliver of free space. He picks it up and looks at the number before setting it back down and continuing his work. No file to look up, no database to consult. Rusty kept track of everything in the only place he trusted.\n\n\"No can do.\"\n\n\"What? Why the heck not?\"\n\n\"This guy's borrowed too much. Any more and it'll be noticed. Not just here. Management.\"\n\nManagement wasn't some guy in an office. It was a term for the structure of it all.\n\n\"So there's nothing you can do? Nothing at all?\"\n\n\"Maybe second, probably only half. Max. No kidding. That's all he's got left.\"\n\nMy clients don't like bad news, but that's life. Still, I'm not going down as a someone who couldn't deliver.\n\n\"Do what you can. Usual payment, usual place.\"\n\nDown below, a young man fighting for his life in a hospital finds just enough time to say \"I love you\" to his wife one last time. Moments like this make the gig worthwhile.", "Been reading the writing related subreddits for a while now, but I recently starting writing (for fun). This will actually be my first submission.\n\n___ \n \n\n“It is your time,” Death said, pointing at Charles. Charles peeked at Death through half-closed eyelids, and went back to sleep. “I said it is your time, Charles,” Death’s voice boomed throughout the room. The hanging pictures shook and the furniture banged on the walls. “I don’t know who you are and I don’t care. I had a long night, so just come back in a couple of hours, whoever you are,” Charles said, shooing Death away, while still under the covers. “Death does not wait for no man, Charles. Get up, now!” Death levitated two feet into the air; his dusty robes draped off his legs and scraped the floor. “Sure, Death. Right. At least you’re sweeping my floor with those crazy robes.” Charles flung the covers off his body, yawned, stood up, and looked around at nothing in particular.\n\n“Are you sure it’s my time, Death?” Charles said, looking up at Death whose face was now three feet higher than him. “Death does not make mistakes. Death always knows when your time is up.” Death reached into his tattered robes. “Are you sure? Can’t I just sell you my soul or something? I saw that on TV once,” Charles said, smirking. “Ha. Talking to me as if I was a demon. I don’t play those paltry games.” Death removed a 6 foot scythe from his robes; the blade was a black void, vacuuming in any light within a foot of it. “Wow, that’s an impressive feat. Here I thought you were just happy to see me. Although, to tell you the truth. I was expecting your weapon to appear with a bang. You know, threatening sound, smoke, flashy lights. That sort of thing.” Charles shrugged his shoulders, stared out the window at the barren town and lit a cigarette. “Since you’re here to supposedly take my life, I guess smoking isn’t going to kill me.”\n\n\n“Silence pathetic human! But, I do like you. You remind me of a younger version of myself.” “I’ve always wanted to be Death!” Charles said, chuckling through his nose, as he continued staring out the window, now looking at a mugger run away from a comically overweight cop. “You’re pushing it, Charles. Listen, I’ll make you a deal. There are three items in this room which reveal the meaning of life and death. Choose those three items and I will let you live… for now.” Death rose even higher, but he stopped once his head hit the ceiling, resulting in a loud thud, only to give way to another thud as a painting hit the ground. “You didn’t see that.” Charles looked at Death, nodded his head sideways, and then quickly surveyed the room. Three items. Where is that item? I know I had it last night, he thought. Charles opened up a drawer and pulled out two items: a 10-minute hour glass and a magnifying glass.\n\n\n“This is the first step,” Charles said, placing the hour glass onto a night stand and handing the magnifying glass to Death, who was now sitting on a chair rubbing his head where it hit the ceiling. “These are not even close to the items you need to find, Charles, but I’ll play along.” Charles flipped the hour glass over and told Death to stare at the falling sand using the magnifying glass. Need to find that item, Charles thought. While Death busied himself staring at the sand—a very fascinating endeavor indeed—Charles opened every drawer and shelf in sight. \n\t\n“Ten minutes are over, Charles and, as I thought, nothing has happened.” Suddenly, a large bang emanated from the center of the room followed by dazzling lights and a puff of smoke. The smoke cleared and there stood Death holding his scythe. “Is that better?” Death said, sneering. “Impressive,” said Charles, while thinking: shit, I still haven’t found it. “Look,” he said, shrugging with his arms and palms facing up, walking towards Death. “I still haven’t…” Charles looked down with his brow lowered, and stuck his hands into his pockets. Charles smirked once again. “Fooled you. I have it right here.” Charles pulled out a fabric tube. “Sorry to say, well, not really, but that is definitely not the last item.” Death lifted up his scythe. “Wait, just indulge me,” Charles said, crouched down and leaning backwards with his arms covering his face.\n\t\n\nCharles handed the tube to Death and explained how the item is used. “I don’t see what that will accomplish,” Death said while sticking one finger into the tube followed by a finger from his other hand. “Nothing is happening, Charles. Time to face your maker.” Charles stared at Death with a face as expressionless as blank paper. Death forcefully pulled his fingers, but the tube just stretched and did not release its cement-like hold. “What is this trickery?” Death said, while stepping on the middle of the tube and once again attempting to pull his fingers. “Have you really never seen a Chinese finger trap?” Charles said. “Well, see ya later, Death.” Charles exited the room.\n" ]	4
Write a story in 100 words or less that the main feature is blood. The character learns something important through blood, either their own or some belonging to another character.	[FF] 100 Words - It's In The Blood	[ "The viscous liquid fell in splashes. Slowly and slowly, one drop at a time: a bombshell on impact, some splatter fallout covering the curved white walls. The flames roused, licking the cast-iron of the bottom of the pot while more and more of that disgusting red fluid filled it half. The wooden spoon sank right through the once very living mud. And it span, and it span and it span. ‘Till it was ready.\n\nIt didn’t taste bad.\n", "I remember the first time. \n\nHer skin glowed. Her unruly scented hair demanded pushing aside. Our desire swelled unchecked and she let me loose mine. \n\nI had to know then, my head approaching her neck, my lips parting in anticipation of the learning. \n\nIt ended quicker than I expected. Her only response, held tight in that final embrace, was a brief startled flinch as my teeth bit to the artery below. The hot blood pulsing into my willing mouth added copper to jasmine in the night air. \n\nThose moments taught me, a new vampire, just how good blood tastes.\n\n", "\tA thin veil of blood slowly creeps down the blade. Jacob holds his midsection, looking down at the sword half buried in his abdomen. Light hits the wet sword perfectly and Eli catches a reflection of himself in the blade. He remembers the past, a time before he gave up this murderous lifestyle. He is consumed with memories of his previous sins, years covered in the blood of those he killed and the guilt he felt when he resolved to never kill again. He lets go of the sword, but it sticks in Jacob's side. “Why?” Jacob asks. “Why?”", "It was supposed to be quick. painless. It was supposed to be easy. He thought it would be a beautiful death. But, now his wrists were slashed, and deep red blood flowed freely, all he wanted was to go back, but there was no going back. He got up from his reclining position in the tub, stumbled, then collapsed. An icy feeling bloomed across his body, which soon gave way to numbness. He wanted to cry, but the tears would not come. He was terrified, but he couldn't cry out for help. No going back. He never wanted this. He couldn't take it back.", "\"Once we have the melted chocolate ready to pour, it's time for our fiiiiiinal ingredient!\"\n\nThe ooohs and aaahs and knowing laughs of the TV audience.\n\n\"But first, a word from our sponsor!\"\n\nCut to a machine that slices carrots at 17 different angles. I already had one. On the nightstand next to me.\n\n\"Aaaaand we're back!\" Spinning. \"Our secret ingredient is.....Peppermint!\" Trumpet music. Was something somewhere leaking?\n\nThen a lovely woman in pink stood up and testified how 17 different angles of carrots changed her life. It was beautiful.\n\nAnd the whole time, I was bleeding on the inside.", "At the age of thirteen I came to understand that the monster \nliving beneath my bed was actually inside the mattress. Years of \nloose dry skin had mixed with the sweat from intermittent night \nhorrors and periodic involuntary bed wetting. Now that puberty had \nbegun to transform me, so too was the monster within changing from \nmalevolent energy into a physical manifestation as it fed upon \nsecretions released from dream borne erotic fantasy.\n\nNow, a few years later, it has almost completed its growth, to the \npoint where I know it will soon birth itself. The fearful entity \nfrom all my sleepless nights is about to be woken, and I watch in \nterror as the homeless man who lives under the south park overpass \nis about to lay, for the first time, on his newly discovered bed.\n\n\n", "He thought family what was mattered most; blood of my blood, he called us, flesh of my flesh, and I remember knowing that he would end the world twice over for every one of us, and being ready to do the same if needed be. Such love comes at a price, however, and I would buy mine with my life the day I came home to my brother standing over his corpse. “Better me than you”, I said; still, fourteen years later, as I wake up a prisoner for the last time, I wonder; did I choose well, father? ", "Adam coughed as he clutched his chest. What was that? Turning back around, he began to run back the way he came. A siren, far away, seemed to be getting further away. A sharp pain accompanied every breath. Adam turned around once more, and saw the outline of 3 men running away. Copper filled his nostrils, as he looked down and saw a growing circle of red coming from below his sternum. Pouring from a hole hidden by cloth, he bled. Fear began to spread through his body. He was going to die.\n\n“I never should have taken that shortcut.”", "It sickens me to watch these abominations totter about as if they were like us, carrying on like they belong. \n\nI remember the days before we assigned a code of ethics to these machines, a golden age when the everyday man could afford to take long walks. These automatons are our era's nigge... HUMPH!\n\n\"I'm terribly sorry!\"\n\n\"Piss off bot!!\"\n\nThis small scratch is worth his stupid puzzled face. I look down at the wound to revel in my crimson badge of humanity when I see a drop of white coolant roll down my forearm.\n\n\"Again, truly sorry my brother.\"", "\"The human race is doomed,\" said the speaker. The faces around the table paled noticeably. Some cried. This was the answer they had all expected, yet secretly hoped they would not hear.\n\n\"Blood tests have confirmed,\" the speaker continued bravely. \"Our DNA has become non-viable. Procreation is no longer possible.\"\n\n\"What can we do?\" asked one of the members of the small group of scientists. \n\nThe speaker let out a slow sigh as she looked at each and every one in turn. \"Go home, spend time with the people you love,\" she said sadly. \"We are the last of us.\"", " How was I to know that the truck had people in it, hidden in a compartment below the watermelon? 37 people, hoping for a better life in Turkey, paid to be smuggled across the border. The \"smugglers\" didn't tell me about this; they only said to deliver the fruit and drive the truck into the river. I didn't question their work. When I walked away from the river, I heard screams, fists pounding against the slowly submerging box. It was then that I realized the blood of many Afghans was on my hands. I must tell my father, he will be very proud." ]	11
	[WP] Intergalactic news article with "Planet Earth" as it's subject.	[ "Washington D.C., Earth (Intergalactic Press) Yesterday, Senators from Earth Government Congress convened to discuss the future of Earth Government’s policies. This comes after a crippling financial collapse that has put a strain on Earth’s resources, decades of educational decline, and a rise in worlds and terrorist groups around the galaxy that pose themselves as threats. Diplomats from allied worlds are observing deliberations in congress to show their support for Earth.\n“From these trying times, our society will arise a utopia among worlds. We will set the shining example for how the galaxy should act.” Earth President Nelson Mandela said during her press conference at the White House.\n\nSenator Ron Wiley, a representative for the province of America, was one of the most verbal congressmen during today’s open floor debate. He also is one of the most popular politicians on Earth, with an approval rating of 92% globally.\n\nHis outline addressed three major concerns he had for the future of Earth: financial stability, education, and foreign policy.\nOn financial spending, Wiley argued that there was too much wasteful spending, and not enough effective management of resources.\n“Due to our wasteful wars in Gurda and Elysium, and three decades of poor investment, management, and economic growth, we have racked up hundreds of trillions of dollars in debt. There are staving citizens, struggling to get by on poorly managed government food stamps. Yet we refuse to reduce spending in areas in purposeless projects like the Atmosphere Modification and Development Department, and divert them towards reorganizing and better funding welfare!”\n\nThe Atmosphere Modification and Development Department takes up trillions in government spend trying to make inhabitable worlds habitable. Scientists have longed claimed that the program is purposeless, as to create a sustainable planet would takes tens of thousands of years and untold amounts of resources.\n\nWiley argued, however, that welfare was not to be confused with a solution to the planet’s economic woes.\n\n“Welfare is really a stopgap people have until they can get jobs, but there are no jobs. This creates a culture of poverty and government dependence. We need to invest in markets that not only create long-term jobs quickly, but also bring in substantial revenue that we can tax in order to pay off our enormous debt. Planetary energy is a new and emerging field that we could exploit for that purpose.”\nPlanetary energy is the process of accessing the core of Earth, and using the resources inside for consumption. \n\nNext, Wiley addressed educational reforms. Education on Earth has declined significantly since 3170s. Children are quickly falling behind their galactic counters, with students from Xanu, Delibrium, and Scor outpacing them in math, science, reading, and critical thinking skills. This is a stark contrast to Earth fifty years ago, where planets would send their best students to receive education here. \n\n“Children are no longer learning the skills in school they need to survive in the real world. Instead of teaching students evolution, some provinces insist on teaching religious dogma in science class. Now, I’m a religious man, but denying scientific facts in a science classroom is just insulting. Moreover, the way we teach math and science is slow, archaic, and boring. We teach them formulas, but not ways to use these formulas practically. I visited a Xanu classroom last year, and they were discussing how solar energy could be used to power a car. A week after I left, they were outfitting a car with a solar battery! Given gas prices right now, I’m sure that most high school students would start to pay attention in class again. But we’re not only lacking critical thinking in the sciences, our students don’t comprehend history, either. We just drill names, dates, and events into their heads. There’s no discussion about how the past is important to us today, or how we can prevent past mistakes from happening again in the future.”\n\nHowever, Wiley didn’t stop with curriculum reform. He also argued for higher education to be subsidized by the government.\n\n“Investing in human capital is integral to economic success. Therefore, the government needs to begin funding the education of college students at some point. Let them focus on their studies, not how they are going to pay for next semester’s tuition. Create grants that send exceptional students abroad to other galaxies. Let’s become the leader of galactic education again.”\n\nFinally, Wiley addressed Earth’s foreign policy. Wiley campaigned heavily against Earth’s invasion of Elysium over Weapons of Mass Galactic Destruction in 3203, and argued that state building in Gurda was futile. \n“Following the tragic terrorist attack on the Triple Towers in 3201, our world had no choice but to seek out and destroy the terrorist syndicate responsible. That brought us to Gurda. We rooted out terrorists on planet, but bogged ourselves in a campaign to create a government on a planet that hasn’t had one since the Xanu invasion of 3179. There exist limits to our power, and we need recognize them. Unnecessarily getting involved in another world’s affairs is not only bad for our interests, it is also a disservice to the brave men and women of Earth’s Armed Forces.”\nSenator Wiley argued that Earth’s foreign policy should center on diplomacy.\n\n“Instead of pursuing a policy of fight first, mend later, we should open ourselves to more diplomatic approaches with other nations. Let’s develop economic ties, collaborate on technological research, and communicate openly. There’s no need to make up a threat in place where there isn’t one. Furthermore, we should utilize diplomacy to force multiply our ability to deal with threats. Multilateral defense alliances can increase galactic security against terrorists or rogue worlds, while also decreasing the expenditures involved.”\n\nSenator Wiley’s testimony has set high hopes for the success of the convention. Many political scientists believe that his plan will ultimately be adopted by Earth Government in the coming months.\n“There are definitely politicians that hate Wiley’s plan,” says Janiel Drezner, a professor of political science at Mufts University, “but most are smart enough to realize that they will not get reelected if they do not work with him. It’s only a matter of months before the first phases of his plan are implemented.”\n\nI wrote this paper for Science Fiction class. It was supposed to be about a Utopia, and I kinda took it to an extreme. I got an A, though. Which is nice.\n", "Scientists officially announced the discovery of a possibly-inhabitable planet. The mystery planet was unveiled in a small press conference, and is part of the also recently-discovered \"White River\" galaxy.\n\n\"Preleminary scans suggest an atmosphere similar to our own. Taking into account the distance from the sun, and an estimate that the surface is up to 80% covered in water, we might have discovered somewhere else in the universe that can sustain life, like our very own Terra,\" stated Dr. Rich Hawker at the press event.\n\nIt was also stated that a successor to deep space traversal satellite Journier 21 would launch \"when possible.\" In the year 4124, Journier 21 was stated to be headed towards that area, but was impacted, possibly by a comet, and destroyed. Its last transmission before disruption was roughly midway between this new solar system and our own.\n\nAs concerns grow abroad regarding environmental poisoning and the rapid consumption of natural fuel, some have begun to speculate this discovery could be a new start for humanity. Detractors, citing the languishing exploration of space in recent years, deem the possibilty impossible, with the recent development of private spaceflight and commercialization not withstanding.\n\nIn any case, the National Space Department has deemed the new planet \"Earth,\" and set the world on its ear with this recent discovery.", "Planet Earth is once again facing sanctions over the inhabitants clumsy attempts to annex their neighbours. It's apparently dominate species, humans, are extremely warlike and slow in their thinking. Recent research however suggests that the planet may in fact harbour a higher form of intelligence. This would explain the unprecedented and prolonged occurrences of 'religion' on this small planet. \n\n'Religion' has often been associated with the presence of higher intelligence in areas inhabited by simpler beings. As such the Institute of Research have been granted further powers to curtail the development of humanity in order to preserve the possible habitat of a higher intelligence. ", "Rumours of the recently uncovered planet near the edge of Known Space, have been confirmed by the Intergalactic Life Taskforce. \n\nTaskforce Agent #283 commented this on the discovery:\n\n\"We have been monitoring the planet for the past seventeen solar cycles. It had seemed mostly dead, until recently communications were intercepted.\"\n\nThe communications suggests the main creatures of the planet communicate not through scent and touch, but through sound.\n\nHead Interpretor of the ILT has been unable yet to uncover the meaning of their sounds. One thing is certain though, they are not trying to communicate with us.\n\n\"Their actions seem to suggest that they are completely unaware of our presence. Our vessels have been ignored and they do not have the technology to pick up our signals.\"\n\nIt is likely that the Intergalactic Senate will class this planet as a Class 4 Planet (Harbours Low Intelligent Sentient Life: do not interfere).\n\nWhen asked about the potential of them posing a threat Agent #283 said, \"these things have a lifespan that doesn't exceed 3 Universal Cycles. They breathe a rare element and,\" he pulled up a chart, \"their atmosphere suggests that in 10 Universal Cycles their world won't even be habitable by themselves.\"\n\nSenator #12 plans on passing a resolution stating to keep an eye on the planet, until it is depleted of its lifeforms. At which point they would mine it for valuable minerals.\"" ]	4
	[WP] at wedding of the woman you love, and you're the best man.	[ "I posted something like this a while ago, I guess as kind of a vent. Here:\n\nI don't feel that it is unreasonable to look for companionship. People often underestimate the need for the touch of another human being- a gentle caress, perhaps. A kiss on a good day. Someone with whom to share memories and new discoveries, who can show you things you'd never have found otherwise.\n\nI'm not sure how my friend tracked this place down, this forlorn and decrepit manse clinging to the edge of eternity, but it has its charm. Of course it is condemned, so we were not allowed to go inside, but the weather was kind. We were able to marry my two best friends today, and even throw a killer reception on the front lawn before the fog came in. Now everyone has gone, including the caterers, and it is just me. I am the last.\n\nDeep in my mind, I can feel an insidious worm of anger and resentment burrowing through my subconscious. Today should have been my day. I introduced them. She came to me first, and I to her. It should have been my ring on her finger. Those should have been my vows. I try not to feel cheated, a sensation I have struggled with since the day they informed me I was being squeezed out in favor of a potential future not even a fraction as old as mine. Even my therapist told me it was fate and that I should let it go.\n\nI have done my best by them. Today I smiled for them, and briefly I was truly happy for them. I can do that sometimes, because ultimately it isn't about her. It is about they years that have passed since my first failure with a woman, and all the subsequent ones. It is about my loneliness, and my desire to share my memories with someone. Someone who can look me in the eye at the end of the day and say that I am still a good man. Not because I need the validation, but because it is sometimes nice to hear.\n\nThey tell me to get a dog. You can't have sex with a dog.\n\nToday my friend married the love of his life. He was the last single friend I had. Every one of them had someone today. And I, the best man, couldn't even find a date. They say the only cure for loneliness lies inside yourself. I fail to see how that makes any God damned sense. All I want is to know why I'm the spare. Why there are spares in this world, and what is so deeply wrong with me- virtually any other character flaw is compatible with someone, it seems.\n\nI looked this old house up a few days ago. It seems this was once a rich neighborhood and no one really knows why the residents left. It is becoming a rich neighborhood again, and it seems every other house on the road back to town boasts a happy family. No one knows why no one came back here. It seems fitting for me, however. An abandoned man in an abandoned house. I could never afford it, but no one is coming to tell me to leave. The house seems comforted by the sound of my footsteps on its dark floors. I can stay here awhile and share my stories with the house. Perhaps I deserve some ridicule for wasting my evening talking to forgotten walls, but there is no one here to ridicule me. Even my enemies have abandoned me.", "Erosion. If that was a feeling, that's what my heart is going through. My heart is eroding like dirt off a cliff; dissolving like wet paper.\n\nI want to tear my eyes out for seeing her lovely smile. I want to rip my heart out of its cage for loving her as much as I do.\n\nShe's right there, I can smell her beauty, I can taste her heart, but she's too far out of my reach.\n\nI just want this to be over. If she wasn't so kind, it would be easier. If my best friend wasn't such a great guy, there wouldn't be as much pain. But they're great people, and they're greater together.\n\nSo I guess, this is it. I'll just let my heart erode. I will let it dissolve. Like wet paper.", "Sandra finished tying her tie with a few quick flicks of her fingers. She set the black bowler hat on top of her short red hair, pursing her lips at the blurred mirror. Julia had dusted them with a stain of color that looked something like blood. \n\n\"Ridiculous,\" Sandra muttered. \n\n\"You look cute. Like an old time dame back when we all had to hide our liquor,\" Julie said, peering over Sandra's shoulder. \n\n\"We've never had to hide our liquor, Julie. Wasn't it your grandmother that made it in her bathtub?\" \n\nJulie scowled. On her delicate face it looked more like a sparkly snarl. \"Don't talk about my Nana! What she did in the privacy of her own bathroom with cleaning products and rum flavoring was her own business!\" \n\nShe dusted Sandra's slim shoulders off. \"Now you straighten up. He picked you, didn't he? A girl to be his best man! His dad is out there breathing through his nostrils like a dragon over it.\" \n\n\"Rob picked me because all his other male friends are gay. Picking a lesbian is only slightly less controversial,\" Sandra said. \n\n\"You know he picked you because he loves you! And Cari loves you! You gotta snap out of the mopes. It's not about you today.\" \n\nSandra leaned against the mirror, squishing her nose against the cold surface. She met her own wide green eyes. They looked like a rabbit's eyes. Afraid. She was glad she hadn't let Julie stick any mascara or eye shadow on. She hated all that face gunk. \n\n\"It used to be about me.\" \n\n\"Sandra... we agreed you were not going to do this today,\" Julie growled. \n\n\"How the fuck does one 'get over' being a lesbian?! She was in my bed for four years before leaving me for him!\" \n\n\"Sannnnnndraaaaa. That was ten years ago. She left you. You got over it. Or at least you only used to complain about it after copious amounts of booze.\" \n\n\"I know. I'm happy for them. It's just that I remember. What it was like. The way she'd wrap strands of her hair around my mouth so I couldn't scream. The taste of the skin between her breasts. Like powdered sugar. Fuck.\" Sandra closed her eyes. \n\nThey were her best friends. Rob and Cari. Julie was right. It wasn't her day. It would never be her day. She took one breath. Then another. Then another. \n\n\"Come on then, Maid of Honor. We're going to a wedding. Then we're getting extremely drunk. I may or may not make out with that butch woman with the mustache at the reception,\" Sandra said. \n\nJulie hugged her from behind. \"Okay, but you might want to stay away from Hilda. I heard she's really really into the Cure.\" \n\n\"Eww.\" \n\nThey walked into the chapel where Rob stood, nervously pulling at his tie. \n\n\"I thought you might not make it,\" he said. \n\nSandra shrugged. \"Jules and I were having some girl talk. You know, like girls do.\" \n\nRob rolled his eyes. The music played. Sandra watched the only woman she'd ever loved walk down the isle. \n\nIt would have to be enough for now. ", "I'm the best man of my best friends wedding, and he's marrying the woman I love. I looked down at my shined dress shoes, and back up to her smile. It's the same one she gave me last night as I looked and licked over every inch of her skin. He was off with the stripper on his lap, and she was screaming under her breath for me. I can still taste her.\n\nI shouldn't be the one standing here. He deserves better than me, and she deserves better than him. Her eyes are on him, but she's looking right through him.\n\n\"Does anyone have any reason these two should not be wed?\"\n\n\"Because she's fucking me!\" I blurted out before I could even snap into reality.", "It didn’t matter what the rest of the people felt about the wedding. It was her wedding not yours so your input wasn’t requested for most things. Your friends and her family didn’t agree that the wedding should take place. “She had better options.” “He isn’t the right one for her.” You agreed more strongly than any of them but kept silent, no matter how much it hurt.\n\nStanding there at the altar awaiting her arrival while you tried not to mess up your tux it was hard not to think about what she would look like once she arrived. You sneaked a peek before the wedding ceremony started, there were so many things left unsaid before. She pleaded with you that it wasn’t proper and that you should leave before her family saw you. You shared one last kiss with her and that would have to be enough.\n\nHer father has been glaring both of you, the husband to be and best man for so many reasons that you can’t even imagine which one he’s focusing on now. He knows you shouldn’t be there, you don’t deserve to be at the wedding of her little girl but you both know no matter your issues with each other she wouldn’t have it any other way. She’s finally arrived and it breaks your heart a bit when she smiles at you. It hurts even during the pause, until she says “I do.” No matter what the rest of the world says she trusts you to be the “best man” in her life.\n", "((I don't know if it's allowed, but I wrote from the perspective of the bride, sort of tangential to the prompt. It got a bit long, but fuck it.))\n\nI dip my head, my cheeks flaming beneath wings of drab brown hair that fall forward as I hunch my shoulders to hide my embarrassment. Behind us, Kevin Schuster- how is it possible I still remember his name?- Kevin's mocking laughter plays a cruel dance along my spine. He asks us if we're going to kiss. Jason clears his throat, desperate to ignore the taunts, and tugs at the Spanish worksheet between us, suggesting biblioteca in place of libreria. I concur and make the change. His face is sweaty; Jason's always sweaty, in that nervous half-grown way of thirteen-year-olds. The look in his eyes discomfits me though it will be years before I understand it.\n\n----\n\nAt my parents' insistence, I'm sitting in a chemistry classroom after hours listening to an upperclassman wax enthusiastic about the school science club. I've always liked science. I wanted to be a herpetologist for most of my childhood, a word frequently outside the vocabulary of my peers, and now I want to be an astronomer. My father is an engineer; he wanted to be a rocket scientist, but he grew up with a space race that dissolved by the time he reached college. I don't want that. He's been laid off too many times in accordance with the currents of government contracts. \n\nAcross the aisle sits Jason, two years older, an eternity in the eyes of children. His dirty blonde hair still falls across his sweaty, swarthy forehead in the most unattractive way imaginable. I don't know if his presence is coincidence or design, and I'm not experienced enough to fear the latter. His friend is with him, taller, with a flop of curly hair and a beak-like nose. They lean towards each other and share a muted joke I can't quite overhear. \n\nWhile the sign-up sheet is making the rounds, Jason leans over, and tells me his friend is Luke. I shrug and put down my name.\n\n----\n\nJason's face shatters in the crowded hallway as I issue my conditions. He's invited me to prom, as I knew he would - forewarned and forearmed. I'm antisocial and, as proved by this encounter, a bit of a bitch, but an honest bitch. I want this one last experience with my friends before the winds of higher education sunder our carefully tended bonds, and I know it is likely Jason is my only shot. So I agree to go- as friends. \n\nI didn't expect the impact to be quite so visible. I consider it my first lesson in feminine power. The twinge of guilt is not enough to make me recant.\n\nWhen he invites me to his sister's wedding a few months later, I decline. I discover that crushed has not only an expression, but a voice, as he quietly accepts my response and hangs up the phone.\n\n----\n\nWe're in a dormitory basement, sitting around a plastic coffee table wedged in beside the washing machines, arousing curious stares from passing students. Dice are scattered among pencils, sourcebooks, and crumpled bits of paper. It's the first time we've all played together. The GM invited me after hearing how I love computer RPGs, and while it's only my second try at D&D, I'm already enjoying it more than my first. Around the table everyone is joking, excited, as I look from one face to the next- Jason, Luke, Patrick, and two others whose names already escape me despite our recent introduction. I'm the only woman, but I learned how to be the only woman at anything a long time ago.\n\nAfterwards, Jason asks to walk me to my car. I agree because I can't immediately concoct a polite refusal. Luke tags along and I am grateful to have him spare me an awkward goodbye.\n\n----\n\nThe winter I turned twenty-two, Luke asks me to dinner. To celebrate my birthday, he says. I am excited. Stranded in the bleak corridor between Christmas and New Year, nobody ever remembers my birthday. He gives me Snowcrash and a box of good chocolate. We while away the evening over pizza. We've been friends for eight years, and it's comfortable, enjoyable, to have a little time together without the rest of the group.\n\nA week later he calls and invites me to lunch. A lunch date, he says.\n\nThat was a date? my brain squeaks, utterly floored. But I figure what the hell. It's the least I can do. I say yes.\n\n-----\n\nThe road between Massachusetts and Iowa flies at a supernatural rate beneath my car. My mother laughs from the driver's seat, her turn at the wheel. She hasn't seen me so excited or happy since I graduated college. The ph.d program was a mistake. The school was a bigger one. My life is in shambles around me but I'm grinning ear to ear, because I'm finally going home.\n\nI go out for lunch with a friend. She's teasing me a bit. Luke and I broke up when I moved thirteen hundred miles away, but there's no fooling her. She knows I want to talk to him. I'm literally in the middle of telling her exactly how much I want to talk to Luke when our server approaches.\n\nIt's Jason. Same sweaty face, same bulbous lips, though years of intramural athletics have given him a body to admire. I see her check it out, discreetly, but his eyes are only for me.\n\nI know the look in them now. I glance down at my napkin, embarrassed. \n\nHe's almost glowing as he slips in the booth beside me to ask how I've been. I mumble something. My friend chatters away. Luke is mentioned. His expression clouds a bit; he tells me that Luke has seen two other girls while I was gone, news to me, but strangely I'm not upset. I realize there's very little that could dim my excitement to see him again.\n\nEventually, at the urging of his manager, Jason reluctantly departs to fetch our nachos.\n\n----\n\nLuke and I lie in bed. We've been engaged for ten months with eight left to go. Whether it's the influence of his mother, a neurotic planner if ever one lived, or my own growing nerves as the details pile one on another, I find myself nagging him for the seventh time that week to please choose his groomsmen. I know the wedding is laid-back. I know our wedding party is small. I still insist it's past time he alert them.\n\nTwo will be his brothers, it goes without saying. I wait for the other name, hoping it will not be the one I suspect.\n\nHe looks at the ceiling and lets out a breath. Jason.\n\nMy heart sinks.\n\n----\n\nThe first time I met Jason's wife was in passing, on her wedding day. We scarcely said two words to one another. They met online, not a bad place to meet, but I always found it strange how they never seem to stand close to one another, never demonstrate a trace of public affection. Some people are undemonstrative, Luke tells me.\n\nI try to remember it as she looks at me with brittle blue eyes and offers her congratulations before we sit down to the rehearsal dinner. More than once, I catch Jason peeking at me over the bowl of mashed potatoes. I tell myself I'm imagining things. Probably I am. I mean, I have to be, right? Anything else is absolutely crazy.\n\n----\n\nThe sidewalk attempts to tear the cathedral veil from my head the entire way down the aisle, the rough concrete catching against the tulle. I'm grateful for it; crowds are not my forte, and it gives me something else on which to concentrate. It's hot, midwest high summer hot, and I'm in forty pounds of taffeta. I never could resist a pretty dress. It was as true at prom as it is now, though my motives are more pure. I guess I grew up after all.\n\nLuke is smiling, gorgeous in his tuxedo, his eyes crinkled at the corners. I don't even want children but at that moment I'm hoping they get his eyes. He takes my hand.\n\nI risk a glance at the crowd. My gaze sweeps over the groomsmen, and though last week I worried about Jason in the midst of the eleven thousand other things contributing to my anxiety, it's a non-issue. It's like he's not even there. \n\nThe minister begins to speak. My mind is so light and happy that I scarcely notice any of it, an instrument of emotion rather than one of record. The ring sticks as he tries to put it on my heat-swollen finger. My bridesmaids cringe. I laugh. It'll be a fond story later. \n\nLuke leans forward, our lips meet, and the onlookers burst into applause.", "A free bird can't be caged, that's what they say. And how could I try, with her spirit so wild and her heart so free? I was not like that though. Mine belonged to her solely.\n\nSo there I was in the chapel, in full uniform - not the uniform I was used to, but a uniform nonetheless - today I traded my fatigues for a tuxedo. I must have been the best dressed man in the room, save for the groom. Even though we saw the same barber, his freshly cropped hair even looked straighter and cleaner than mine. \n\nI know it's traditional for the best man to stand, but it would be another few months, or maybe more, of physical therapy before I could do so of my own strength again, if ever. But I could not abandon my post, so there I sat, in the shadow of the groom, ring in my breast pocket, dressed to the nines. \n\nAll went pretty much as expected. I handed the ring over, and I watched her willingly and with joy take the golden and diamond-bejeweled shackle onto her finger. A free bird can't be caged, huh. Well, so much for that. I answered the call, and I did my duty. It was the hardest service I had ever performed. \n\nAfter the tedious pageantry drew to a close, a simple salute served to part ways with the groom. Semper fi, brother.", "Slowly, she put each foot in front of the other like a delicate ballerina in an overflowing white dress covered in gleaming sequins- like her bright eyes. Her whole world is a stage, and I knew it. We had grown up together, fought, cried, and shared a large part of our lives together.\n\nBeautiful- she always made people laugh and forget their troubles. I stood in the line of other important men in her and her soon-husband's life, proud to be standing there, sad that she was leaving me. The music stopped and she had reached the front of the aisle, holding hands and saying her vows to the man I had treasured and approved of. \n\nI smiled- my sister's gaze flitted to me and smiled back with gleaming jewels falling from her eyes. Congratulations.", "It was fitting that he and I had so much in common, enough that she could have chosen to love us both, enough so that he and I became friends when they were first divorced. I didn't want to make an already difficult circumstance worse, and I saw how much pain he was in from losing her. He and I were able to go to games, have a beer together and talk about everything but her. It was the unspoken rule.\n\nI truly loved her. I really did, to the point where songs I had heard a million times over, I actually heard the words to them. I had that pickup in my walk, in my attitude. I looked forward to things.\n\nAnd this is why my world went dark when she told me that she was going back to him, her ex-husband, my now close friend. She told me that my relationship with him had fixed him, or that's what I chose to hear when she told me that their differences were resolved.\n\n I felt like I had transferred the best parts of me to him, and now she had us both.\n\nHe broke that unspoken rule when he asked me to be the best man. He didn't do it out of spite, I mean, I agree it felt like the right thing to do.\n\nBut don't fault me for standing here, watching her come down the aisle, and pretending just for a moment that she is coming for me.", "Hands shaking. Fidgeting with the note. Leg bouncing. Look at Drew, my best friend. Big smile from him. Looks happy. Of course. Why wouldn’t he be. Steal a glance at Jenn. Beautiful. Look away now, don’t let your eyes linger too long. Steal one more glance. Remember to breathe. Look down at the note again.\n\nNow’s the time. Get to my feet. Unsteady. Knees feel unsafe. Breathe in. Grab the note firmly.\n\nThe lights. Are they too bright? They’re shining right at me. In my eyes. An interrogation. I’m already guilty. I know. They know. Look at Drew. Still smiling. Look at Jenn. Exhale. Clear throat.\n\n“He…hello everyone. I guess we’re all here for the same reason, right? To see if Drew will get drunk and piss his pants again?”\n\nLaughter from the other groomsmen, the loudest coming from Drew himself. Mixed reaction from the crowd. Probably shouldn’t have started with an inside joke. Or used the word “piss.” Don’t look at Jenn, don’t want to see her reaction.\n\n“Drew. I’ve known you for 14 years now. The first seven, we were best friends. The last is when we became brothers. And like all brothers, there are going to be fights, but in the end, we always know who we are. Brothers. I love you, bro.”\n\nDrew nods at me and mouths, “Love you too.” Awws from the crowd.\n\n“Drew, you’re one of the best men I know, but still, you definitely lucked out with Jenn. She’s exceptional. She’s worth every ounce of your attention.” That wasn’t too bad. Just end it quick. “To Drew and Jenn!” Raise glass. Toast. Go over and hug Drew. Shake Jenn’s hand. She leans in for a hug. Feel my body tense. Don’t look her in the eyes, just get back to your seat.\n\nThe maid of honor gives her toast. It’s an emotional one. Talking on and on about Jenn’s virtues. I’ve been looking down this entire time. The floor is looking blurrier. Rub my eyes. Chance a look at Jenn. She’s staring at her best friend with tears in her eyes. Tragically beautiful. She suddenly looks over at me. Eye contact. I freeze. She smiles and then looks back to her friend who’s still prattling on. My eyes immediately dart back down.\n\nHow long did she stare at me? Did anyone else notice? Who cares. How long did she look at me? Did Drew notice? I look at him and he’s just staring at Jenn, smiling like an idiot. She’s still paying attention to her friend. Finally, the toast is over. We drink. A chorus of clinking champagne glasses. The newlyweds smile, look each other in the eyes and kiss.\n", "It was no secret I was in love with Veronica. I'd known her a long, long time and we'd always flirted, never dated. Something would always come up, like different Colleges, or we were each already in a relationship, just always something. \n\nAnd here I was best man at her fucking wedding! Best man, to a guy who I resented, no, envied and hated. I had always hated Alan, but he was the golden boy, the guy from the good family who was good at sports and school who had the best car in the parking lot when he was 16. I was pretty sure he had asked me to his best man out of sheer malice : we weren't that close of friends, although we had known each other a long time. \n\nAs she came up the aisle, she looked radiant, glowing, just everything I could possibly have dreamed my wife to be, a heaven sent vision in white, just every God damn cliche for beauty you could think of. \n\nAnd it was at that point, the absolute nadir of my existence, the dark night of my soul, the equivalent of Tattoo from Fantasy Island using a pogo stick to jump on my heart's crotch, when the first guitar chords of \"Jessie's Girl\" came blaring out. \n\nIt was at that point that I said fuck it, pulled my dick out and began to urinate on the Brides beautiful dress.", "The toasts are what got me. Never mind that I had spent all weekend calming my best friend’s nerves, fixing and refixing ties. The ceremony had been beautiful, too. Everything she planned had been beautiful. \n\nBut besides chasing flower girls, find rings and their bearers, the worst part were the speeches. The Maid of Honor, a stunner in blue, cried as she spoke about college and how she knew the bride would be ecstatic. The blushing bride dabbed small tears off her cheeks. She would never let loose on the water works. No, she was too poised, too graceful for that. \n\t\nFinally it was my turn. I had to tell my best friend and the love of my life, now a married couple, how I wished them well. I had my two index cards: one, a heart-wrenching confession of desire and hope, the other, a traditional congratulations for a happy couple. “Today marks a special occasion,” I read off of the first card.\n\nThis is when I caught a glimpse of my bride looking at me. Her eyes shimmered, the pure joy she radiated hurt to look at. She grabbed my friend’s arm and just smiled. Although I had known her for almost ten years, I had never seen her smile be more genuine. “Woah, wait! This card is all wrong! Let me fix that,” I said. I over acted the act of getting out the right card for the audience who let out a polite laugh. \n\nI read my traditional speech, tears were shed, and everyone looked so pleased. As I reached the end of my card, I added a bit, “I love both of you more than you will ever know, and above all else, I hope you two have a lifetime of happiness.” With that, my bride kissed her groom, and I dismissed myself due to “stomach issues.”\n", "I had played this fantasy over in my mind for years. After the ceremony, when she would vow to love my friend for all her life, I would have a chance to dance with her just once during the reception. It would be a slow song. I would hold her close to me one last time and imagine those vows she just said were for me. My fingers pressed into the fabric of her perfect dress, forever woven on my palms, the pads of my fingers reaching, stretching beyond the layer of her dress to her skin that bore no blemish.\n\nAt the right moment I would lean and whisper to her that I was sorry for all the stupid things I said when I was young. We could have done it, you know? We could have made it work. We could have been together and sanctified.\n\nInstead, she danced with him. They stayed for only a moment, then ran to the getaway car under the rain of birdseed. The vehicle turned the corner, and slid away into perfect hindsight.\n\nI loosened my tie and went home." ]	13
Sky Burial - A traditional death ceremony, most notably performed by the Zoroastrian faith, in which the dead are taken to a place, usually a dedicated altar or an open field, the body laid out as food for carrion birds.	[WP] Your closest friend has died of a terminal illness. Before he died, he asked you to give him a 'sky burial'. Tell us about the experience.	[ "Dec 7\n\nToday Matty died. \n\nI held his hands. Is that weird? Is it weird that two straight guys held hands? My wife was there, a hand on by back. His ex-wife was there, off to the side, huddled into a chair, sobbing quietly into a napkin or something. I wanted to punch the whore. Perhaps that was why I was holding his hands. To make sure that his death wasn't tainted somehow. Matty didn't have any kids of his own, not after Charlie the whore stepped out of his life in the most destructive fashion a person can. But I am not writing in this journal about Charlie. This is about Matty.\n\nI already miss him horribly. There is a hole in my heart where he was. I felt it when he died. My spirit was torn asunder. Pulled from its bonds within my chest, and laid down on a field of glass, salt, and darkness. \n\nHe held my hand, looking me in the eyes. They were so blue. So very blue. I think I was crying. I can't remember. He couldn't talk, the respirator was forcing air down into his burnt lungs, his ravaged heart had a hard time just keeping up with his ragged breathing. I could feel it through his paper skin, the thin sheath over bone and death. He glowed with it. The death mask hovered over his bed, the presence of something else sat in that room calling him home. Calling his spirit outwards. \n\nHe looked me in the eyes, squeezed my hands gently, the barest ghost of a smile crinkling the edges of his own. Then he was gone. The eyes paled, his lids lowered, and I could feel the wild flapping of a hundred raven wings lift off around me. My wife didn't feel it, Charlie snivelling in the corner didn't feel it. But I felt it. Thousands of black feathers pushing the air around me to the corners of the room, his hands going soft, his paper skin fluttering still, the heart giving a few last attempts at a beat... and in all of it, I didn't see his last breath. I didn't need to.\n\nCharlie heard the monitor go. It was toned down to almost nothing, but she heard the flatline. She screamed like a little girl getting her ears pierced and ran from the room. My wife squeezed my shoulder as I lowered my head to his hands.\n\nI know I cried then. I cried until my wife forced me up and told me they had to take him away. \n\nI ended up here, at home, staring at this journal.\n\nShit.\n \n*******\n \nDec 9\n\nToday was a little better. I expected Matty to come by the office and ask about the weekend game. Then I remembered he was dead. I had to go to the bathroom to cry again.\n\nCharlie called me. I ignored the cunt. \n\n*****\n\nDec 10\n\nCharlie finally got a hold of my wife. My wife called me. Matty had a will. Who the fuck has a will at 35? Matty did. Probably did it as soon as he found out about the cancer. Probably when the rest of us just thought he had a cold. Probably when he found out that Charlie was going to leave him.\n\nYou clever bastard, Matty. \n\nBecause it turns out that he had himself declared quarter Native American a few years ago. I can't remember what tribe accepted his claim... but he had the bloodline proven. And in his will he asked for a burial that I had never heard of. And he asked me to do it.\n\nFitting I guess. I was there when he died, I will be there when I commit his body to the unknown.\n\n****\n\nDec 15\n\nIt took a week for the coroner to release his body to us. It is amazing the silly shit someone has to go through to get their hands on human remains. The forms, the phone calls, the threats and law disclaimers. Thank God Matty had the will and the declaration. It saved me a lot of red tape. Now his body is on ice down at the mortuary that was willing to help me out. \n\nTomorrow I am taking Matty's body up to my family's farm. My mom was very supportive of Matty's request, and we have the signatures, just like a body farm. \n\nMy wife is going with me. I told Charlie to go fuck herself.\n\n****\n\nDec 16\n\nI knew the tree when I saw it. It was a huge spruce smack dab in a grove of aspen. It was perfect. Matty would have loved it. I made a platform with the ascending gear from the Moab trip last year, just a simple injury rig. Matty probably only weighed 90lbs. There was nothing the cancer left behind. Just dead meat riddled with genetic instructions gone horribly wrong. \n\nI tied him to the rig, gentle knots around his shrouded form, and pulled it behind me as I ascended. My wife held the guides, and I tried my best not to shake it too badly. The spruce was strong. It felt right.\n\nIt felt like hours climbing. Pulling him up behind me, it felt like days. In reality, it only took me 8 minutes. Eight minutes. \n\nI pulled him close. Smelling the scent of a warming dead body in my arms. Something familiar was under there though. The smell of a friend in grade school coming over to spend the night, the smell of a buddy in junior high, helping me fight those bullies off, the smell of a teammate as we played football at homecoming... the smell of a best man punching me in the shoulder at my reception calling me the best asshole he had ever known in front of all my friends and family.\n\nI tied him carefully to the highest branch I could. It wasnt pretty, but it would hold. I climbed up the last couple feet and cleared the branches above, giving his cold face a view of the sky above. And with that, I kissed his forehead on the way down, trying to not blind myself with grief that wanted to pour freely from my eye sockets.\n\nMy wife held me as I got it out of my system. Above us, hidden within the golden leaves of all the aspen, a flock of ravens burst out to the sky.\n\nA thousand black feathers raising all at once.\n\nSee you later, Matty, see you later.", "It was a beautiful day. The sun was shining, the birds chirping, and all were in good spirits. We were somber, and quiet, but we were content. Jeff had always been the life of the party, no pun intended, and he would have wanted us to carry that joy.\n\nIt was time. The pastor had finished his speech, we had all taken our turns to speak on behalf of our lost friend, and now there was nothing left to do but see him off.\n\nI and five others hefted the coffin, setting it down gently in the tube. I'm not really sure why we were so gentle. Maybe it was a respect thing. We closed the thick iron door, latching it securely.\n\nTogether, we rolled it out to the front of the audience of mourners and redneck gun advocates. We hadn't invited most of the latter, but they weren't causing any trouble, so we let them be. We aimed our friend skyward. I pulled the cord.\n\nWith an Earth-shattering BANG!* he was launched. Matt rushed over to me wide-eyed as the coffin ascended. He held an iPad, open to Safari. \"You need to see this,\" he whispered frantically.\n\nI skimmed the wikipedia page for \"Sky Burial\" Matt had handed to me. \"Wait, you mean it's not...\" He shook his head. I looked up at the pieces of Jeff hanging in the air, directly over the mourners. \"Whoops.\"" ]	2
Is this a good prompt?	[WP]A Young Man meets a friend on an online game, and they become good friends yet never meeting each other. One day his friend is trapped in a war zone and is killed.	[ "HAPPY BIRTHDAY, TOM.\n\nTom's sight was filled from end to end with this message. Just below it a small, Yin-Yang symbol was spinning, symbolizing that The World was loading. \n\nWas it that day again? Tom wouldn't know. He didn't share the room with anybody else (a luxury unbeknownst in the Western Territories) whom might be around to remind him, and he didn't usually bother with the calendar. Perhaps Sim would know; he was always good with time. \n\nOf course, Sim was generally good with...well, everything. He had discussed at great length the amazing engineering behind the Decks with Tom, describing in intricate detail both the theoretical and electrical concepts that made The World a reality; indeed, he seemed to be a master at everything from history to physics. Tom was, thus, always conscious of his own inadequacies.\n\nSim had always brushed aside such concerns in his casual, friendly manner, and in spite of them he and Tom had become comrades beyond the day-to-day meaning. \n\nThere was, of course, always the possibility they were merely friends of circumstance. Tom knew nothing of his family- in the more isolated chat rooms he had read of some undescribed event called 'The Purge', possibly related to that fact- and had never had much interest in exploring the world outside his room...or, more importantly, his Deck. Perhaps some part of Tom's mind- some inner desire for family- had kicked into overdrive, attaching Tom to the nearest thing it could find.\n\nHe doubted it. There was...something. Something between him and Sim. Something real. Something that- even though they had never seen or touched each other- made Tom understand Sim as well as he understood himself.\n\nSim was all he needed. The two had, via their adventures throughout The World, become the best of friends; for Tom, at least, perhaps even brothers. \n\nThis brotherhood was of a shared experience like no other. The greatest beauties of The World had met their gaze; from the Rainbow City of Shan'gi to the Eastern Heights they had journeyed together, meeting all manner of creatures and peoples alike. They had slain mighty dragons and had fought in the Wars for the North. Theirs was a real friendship outside of physical reality.\n\nThe white, blackness-surrounded text vanished in a blaze of light as Tom entered The World. \n\nHe was in Buxom. It was a large city in the southern marshes with buildings of a very strange architecture. \n\nIt was strange. Only the night before Sim had brought Tom here, telling him of his homeland. The admins didn't allow people to talk to much of their personal lives, but from the bits and pieces Sim told him Tom was able to gather he lived somewhere on the Planet Mainland...south or maybe east of the Himalayas. \n\nAccording to Sim, Buxom was the center for people from his country and, indeed, he and Tom had shoved their way through crowds of people chatting with the same accent that Sim had.\n\nBut now the crowds were gone. The city was barren, lifeless except for a few stragglers who carefully avoided him. Tom wandered about searching for Sim. Where was he? They had always logged in and out near each other, always being sure to wait for the other to arrive.\n\nMinutes, maybe an hour passed. Exacerbated, Tom opened his Friend's List. It appeared before him as a hologram, and he hurriedly pressed the 'call' button next to Sim's name.\n\nHis ears filled with the sound of a phone dialing. Tapping his foot angrily- he would make sure to put on quite a show to guilt-trip Sim- he waited as the tone went on and on.\n\nFinally, a clicking sound.\n\nImmediately, Tom shouted \"Sim! Where you at man?\"\n\nSilence. Some background noise. Talking? Tom couldn't understand it.\n\n\"Sim! I can hear you. Come on man, we need to head out!\" he shouted again.\n\nThe background noise picked up. A crash, a shout, and then a fuzzy sound as Sin's mouth reached the mic.\n\nBreathing. Panicked, scared breathing.\n\n\"S-Sim? You alrig-\" Tom began.\n\n\"I'm scared, Tom. I'm so damn scared.\" Sim interrupted.\n\nA bang. A thud. Boots stomping. A door slamming.\n\nTom stood there. Minutes, hours, days could have passed. It didn't matter. At some point, he placed his hands in a grasping position a few inches from his head. He pressed onto some invisible object and pulled, and pulled, and pul-\n\nLight. Pain. Throbbing, horrifying pain. \n\nTom felt himself fall onto the floor, his body spasming as the helmet fell onto the floor of the Deck. You weren't* supposed to take the helmet off, not while you were playing.\n\nBut Tom didn't care anymore. He didn't care as alarms sounded outside of the Deck and his door came down with a crash. He didn't care as the security officer pulled the Deck's door opened, and as a fat man wearing spectacles knelt down next to him and began hurriedly stabbing various needles into his body.\n\n\"God damnit, Control said we can't have another one this week doc!\" shouted the security officer.\n\n\"I told you we should have cut his contact with that one from China weeks ago. He was too attached!\"\n\n\"Try explaining that to-\"\n\nBut then Tom didn't hear any more. He was back in The World, with Sim. And they would never be apart again.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n", "His name was Muhammed. I know it sounds like a joke, or a stereotype, but it's one of the most common names in the world, y'know? I met him a few years ago when I was playing Team Fortress 2. It was some shitty, twenty four seven, instant respawn, thirty two player 2fort server. No one ever took the game seriously. We were all there to talk shit, bash each other, and have a few good laughs.\n\nAnd there was Muhammed.\n\nMother fucker was just sitting in the courtyard playing engineer. I will never forget the first thing I ever heard Muhammed say, and I quote \"You all go now. [Go to fight the bad](http://i.imgur.com/6EB2lPJ.jpg). They no get past. I stay, you go fight. I alone stay for to defend.\"\n\nHe caught a lot of shit for it, but I thought he was hilarious, so I stuck my neck out there for the guy and told everyone else to either mute him or shut up. It didn't do much good, as I'm sure you could guess, but he notices and friends me, and that is how I became friends with M-Ham-7. I logged a thousand hours over the next year with M-Ham-7, who I came to know very well. He was the youngest of seven brothers and the only one named Muhammed. They lived together in Syria and were pretty well off, well off enough to be able to afford a computer and games for it. His favorite game was team fortress 2, and his favorite class was engineer. He loved to help people. He was always active at his mosque when they needed volunteers. He struggled in math. He used Team Fortress and other games to practice his english, which is why he never stopped talking...I think that's what I miss most about him. He was just like me. He was just some kid who was trying to grow up and find his place in the world, and before long he was one of my best friends.\n\nMarch, 2011, he told me things were starting to get rough in Syria. Demonstrations were getting violent. Then the news of tanks came in July.\n\nAnd one day, he sent me a message. I've still got a screenshot of it sitting around on my laptop somewhere. It was the last thing I heard from him.\n\n\"bad times friend ahead. maybe no computer, maybe no home. i go this time, but we are two of soul. i will return.\"\n\nI don't have as much time for TF2 these days, but I still hop on steam every now and then. I still scroll down to M-Ham-7. I still see the same message.\n\nLast Online: 765 days ago" ]	2
	[WP] A confused criminal in the middle of a job attempts to escape a ridiculously over the top situation that doesnt involve him/her	[ "The sirens wailed. Blue and red light lit up the black night. He was in deep shit now. Fucking David made it sound so goddamn easy. Get in, shoot the guy and get out. The sirens wailed louder. Holy shit, it sounded like the whole police department was after him. He frantically rushed back and forth, there had to be a way out! His heart pulsed with adrenaline, hands getting cold and clammy. His family couldn't know, as far as they knew he was getting all of his money off some desk job. A booming voice of authority blared out clearly in the cacophony of wailing sirens. \n\"This the the LAPD, come out with your hands up or we WILL enter by force. I repeat come out with your hands up or we will enter by force.\" \nGod dammit, it's not supposed to be like this... \nHe was going to start fresh after this hit. No more sleazy jobs, he was only doing this to get a boost.\nCRACK\nHe could hear them storming in. The floorboards began to creak louder and louder. He frantically scrambled back and forth. Quick! Think of something! \n\nTBC- I'll finish this later.I wrote myself into a corner can't think of anything at the moment.\n \n", "\"This is a robbery! Put your hands where I can see them!\"\nEveryone - which wasn't a lot, considering it was just before noon on a Wednesday - put up their hands, shock and fear evident in their eyes. Gripping the cold steel firmly in my hands, I shuffled along the marble floor towards the teller.\n\n\"Damn it, John!\" I froze.\n\nSomewhere behind the short queue, a woman's shrill voice shrieked, \"I TOLD you not to go to the bank on Wednesdays! BUT YOU WOULDN'T LISTEN!\"\n\n\"Lady, keep it d-\"\n\nA voice boomed back, \"Oh, so it's MY fault now, eh? What the hell does some bastard robbing the bank has to do with Wednesdays! It's a PERFECTLY fine day to go to the fucking bank!\"\n\nOkay, I did not spend my three weeks preparing for this. \"Sir, could you please shut the fu-\"\n\n\"YOU shut the fuck up! Don't fucking interrupt, fucktard!\"\n\n\"SHUT UP, JOHN!\"\n\nAt this point, everyone in the bank was staring at the strange couple have a yelling match as if they were in the Himalayas, on different summits several kilometers from each other.\n\n\"I TOLD you. But NO, you just HAD to go on a fucking WEDNESDAY!\"\n\n\"What the flying FUCK is wrong with a fucking WEDNESDAY?\"\n\n\"It's ALL your fucking FAULT you FUCKING ASSHOLE!\"\n\nNow, a tactical genius you may be, but I would like to see you prepare for this kind of shit three weeks in advance. Profanities and vulgarities were hurled back and forth, repeatedly piercing the quiet professional atmosphere of the bank.\n\nI rolled back my long black sleeve and checked my watch. It was already 3 minutes past my schedule. Fortunately for me, the bemused bank staff were too confounded by everything going on and had neglected to pull the alarm and call the police. \"Well,\" I guessed, \"better now or never.\"\n\nI deftly stepped out of the bank, discreetly hiding my gun under my jacket and ripping off my mask once I was in the same alley I came by. Some things just couldn't be planned for." ]	2
	[WP] You wake up go to high school and slowly start to realise you're in typical teen high school movie.	[ "<Montage of morning traffic for about 1 min to [cascade by hyper](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BhALP8W01Wc)\n\nCamera constantly following one specific car for the duration of montage; follows car into school> \n\n<Camera in car. Music is revealed to be coming from the stereo>\n\n\nMarkus: Did you just here that.\n\nJeff: what\n\nMarkus: Are you telling me that you didn't just here the car radio turn on at full volume\n\nJeff: Marky why do you always make me regret my descicion to send you to this school - we both know there is a serious drug problem here and i really do not appreciate these practical jokes.\n\nMarkus: <lethargically> Just remember to pick me up at 4:30 i have Soccer after school.\n\n\n[int class]\n\nGoldbloom: Good morning everybody i assume you all studied for your math tests, and remember we're writing the test in room 12 so be sure not to go to rooms 1 through 11\n\nMarkus:< walks in late>. Hi Mrs Goldbloom i'm sorry i was stuck in traffic.\n\nGoldbloom: Just sit down Mark. And next time use a better excuse you think i don't know we live in one of the smallest towns in america.\n\nMarkus: I am sorry Mrs Goldbloom ordinarily i would but there was actually traffic today - for the first time; quite strange.\n\n[I'll finish this later i hope; have to study]\n\nGoldbloom: MARKUS; will you please pay attention when i am talking to you\n\nMarkus:<feint> wha...did i just blackout\n\nGoldbloom: Seems like we have a new class clown - <Goldbloom looks into camera> which is funny because you're not even funny.\n\n<Laughter equivalent to that of a joke on Disney-channel>\n\nMarkus:<sighs> Er...Mrs Goldbloom are we done?\n\nGoldbloom:<confused> just er go get ready for your next scen.... I mean Period; go get ready for your next period.\n\nMarkus: Oka...\n\n<Quick cut to bell ringing super super close bell rings for about 5 seconds, camera from bell to hallway to find Markus walking with several books in his hand> \n\n<camera tracking backwards following Markus and his friend with a confused look on his face down the corridor>\n\nTim: dude when you were making those jokes in class today that was just so fucking awesome and then and then when Goldbloom told us about you making jokes about the actual jokes that was just awesomer....dude yeah dude.\n\nMarkus: wha...hey er do you know where i put my bag and come to think of it i don't really remember anything from the last 10 and the 10 minutes before that were just as weird, i mean did you hear the class laugh at that bad joke, it's almost like someone was forcing them to laugh.\n\nTim: Hmmm; well i wouldn't worry about it - dude just remember your Math test and also good luck were all counting on you.\n\nMarkus: what was that you just said?\n\nTim: Remember your Math test?\n\nMarkus: No after that.\n\nTim: I don't remember there being anything after that in the script....<stares blankly at Markus; Markus stares blankly back for a solid 10-15 seconds>\n\n[Yeah How would you like me to end it there motherfuckers^^^sorry ^^^that ^^^was ^^^rude^^^]", "\"Hello! I am Rachel Dweebs, representative of the Eastbrook High student body. You must be the foreign exchange student, right?\"\n\nI look at the short girl with glasses infront of me - her voice is shrill and annoying and she talks way too fast, but despite the fact that she is dressed horribly and is not your typical \"hot\" girl, she still somehow manages to be more attractive than most girls I know. \n\n\"Yes, my name is Daniel. Nice to meet you.\" I figure I could use someone to show me around.\n\n\"Alright. It is my duty to inform you above all else - and yes, this is much more important than things like where the various classrooms and facilities are - is the Eastbrook High social hierarchy. We all fit into certain 'cliques' which once you become a part of, you may never leave.\" Weird. Is that a thing? I thought it was like that in the movies, but could never imagine it being true in real life.\n\n\"So as I was saying, beginning from the bottom of the popularity pyramid, we have three main groups: the nerds, the goths and the glee club kids. Standing under those bleachers over there, you can see the nerds, which are recongizable by glasses, acne, and jewfro.\" She points under the bleachers, to where three scrawny kids which fit her description were sitting, chuckling to themselves while tapping away at laptops. Who the fuck talks like this, though? And come on, honestly -what is it with this, 'established hierarchy'? It's ridiculous, we're not in High School Musical or something.\n\n\"I see.\" \n\n\"These here,\" Rachel said, as we walk past the nerds, and pointing to a tree, below which four kids were sitting in a circle, all dressed in black, with a few lit candles scattered between them. \"These are the goths. They sit under this tree because it's convenient as a quick suicide device. As you can see they have plenty of rope stocked up.\" She points to a pile of rope next to them. \"Don't worry though, they never actually do it.\" How unsensitive. How rude even. I couldn't believe my ears. Never have I met a more judgemental girl in my life. I truly hope she's one of a kind at this school. A whiff of what smells like weed draws my attention, and I look around to see where it might come from.\n\n\"Oh, I see you have smelled the 'stoners' out. They're a well defined clique, although they fluctuate between levels of the pyramid, depending on the rating...\"\n\n\"Depending on the what?\" I swear I heard rating.\n\n\"Nothing. Moving on, do you hear the harmonies in the air?\" I listen closely. I could faintly make out the sound of a choir...they sound really good. They must be the Glee club kids.\n\n\"Wow, who is singing?\"\n\n\"Those would be the Glee club kids. They sing showtunes and classic rock, namely Journey, but everyone hates them, and joining them would be social suicide\". \n\n\"Why though? They sound really talented.\"\n\n\"Ehh. It's uncool for some reason. On the next level of the pyramid, there are the...\" Rachel went on, but my mind was focusing elsewhere. Uncool for some reason? Everything is just so...weird. Like everyone here is just a soulless automaton living to fill various roles, as if they are paid actors, just standing about. Now that I think of it, those people over there aren't even really having a conversation. They're just repeating the same words over and over. As if in a...of course! I'm in a movie! It all makes sense now. The annoying ambitious nerdy girl, the completely one-dimensional stereotypes! There is only one way to confirm my suspicions...\n\n\"Hey Rachel?\"\n\n\"Yes Daniel?\"\n\n\"Is this a movie?\" Rachel's jaw drops. Everyone turns to look at me in shock.\n\n\"You...do you know what you did? Have you any idea? You...broke the fourth wall.\" Aha! I was right! This is a movie. Rachel gets more and more visibly scared. \"You doomed us all,\" she whispers. \n\nEverything starts shaking. Rachel's voice is now a booming voice echoing through the school. She yells, \"You doomed us all! You doomed us all!\". The shaking is now unbearably violent, and a hole of black nothingness appears between me and Rachel. The hole pulls me towards it. I try to resist it, but the pull is too strong. Leaves, trees, cars, all get sucked in. Infront of me, the nerds fly into the hole, screaming. The goths follow with a more indifferent expression, followed by the stoners, the jocks, the head bitch in charge, and in the hole they all begin spinning. They spin, and spin, forming a whirlwind of bland and overdone tropes. The pull is too strong, I can't fight it anymore. I let go.\n\nThe alarm rings. I'm in my room...so it was all just a dream after all. Well, no shit it was a dream. Why the fuck would I be in a movie? I'm not even a foreign exchange student. I shouldn't have watched Mean Girls last night...\n\nFrom downstairs, a voice calls, \"Honey, the schoolbus is here! Hurry, you'll be late for school!\" Oh crap! I'll never make it in time to catch the schoolbus! Wait a minute...schoolbus? Who the fuck takes the schoolbus? I don't take the schoolbus...then that must mean...\n\nA hole of black nothingness appears infront of me.", "I hear the alarm clock screech and my eyelids flutter open. Normally I would hit the snooze button a few times, but today I feel perfectly well-rested, so I sit up in bed.\n\nMy eyes come to focus on my bedroom. It is absolutely enormous. Seriously, there is no way a room this size wouldn't be the master bedroom. And even more strangely, everything is perfect. There are perfect photos of my friends tucked into perfect home made bulletin boards. My perfume and make up is perfectly arranged on the top of my dresser. The carpet has been vacuumed and swept immaculately, which is strange because normally I can't even see the floor through mountains of clothes.\n\n\nI guess mom must have collected my laundry, I think as I roll out of bed and go to shower.\n\n\nI know I don't really have to shower. I mean, it's not like I'm dirty or sweaty or anything; I just showered last night. But I just have to shower in the mornings, or my face looks puffy and sleepy all day.\n\n\nI walk into the bathroom and glance in the mirror, like I always do, but this time I do a double take. Who is that girl I see, staring straight back at me? I mean, it's me, but sexier. I don't remember going to bed with make up on, and my hair is in perfect waves, which is strange because my hair is normally straight and lifeless. But that's not the weirdest thing... I'm older... Like, I could be thirty or something. How am I still in high school? This makes no sense at all. I begin to freak out and run downstairs to find my mom to take me to the hospital. There is no way I'm not hallucinating right now.\n\n\n\"Mom! Mom?! Oh my god, help me mom!\" I scream as I run down stairs. But all that's left of my mom is a note on the counter that reads.\n\n\nGood morning, Sweetie!\n\nShe has never called me sweetie\n\nYour father and I have gone away for the weekend.\n\nWe will be back on Sunday at 3 pm sharp! Love you!\n\n\nWell that's weird on so many different levels. My parents haven't been together since I was four. I don't think they fought much or anything, but I guess our family wasn't picture-perfect, so my mom left him. And how the hell would my mom know exactly what time she would be home on Sunday?\n\n\nWhatever. I think to myself. I don't have time to figure this out, and I'm going to be late for school if I don't leave now, which is fine because I look gorgeous. I grab the note and throw it in my bag, which has been propped up beside the door, next to a paperbag lunch (with my name on it..?) and leave to catch my bus.\n\n\nWhen I get to school, everyone I see looks old like me. Not old-old, but too old for high school. And they look good. Like, damn good. Am I ovulating? Why is everyone looking so fine right now? I mean, I can even tell the math and science kids look good! Well, underneath their braces and curly hair, which, come to think of it, I don't recall them having before.\n\n\nOne math kid notices that I'm staring at him too hard. \"Hi Riley,\" I say apologetically. He gives me a strange look, waves and continues on down the hall.\n\n\n\"Why are you talking to him?\"\n\n\nI turn around. It's my best friend, Olivia.\n\n\"Olivia! Thank God! Have you noticed anything strange going on today?\"\n\nI briefly wonder why I call her my best friend. Does anyone use that phrase after the fourth grade?\n\n\"Yeah, I saw something weird: you talking to Riley. What the hell were you thinking? You don't want Cory to notice you for that!\"\n\n\"Cory..?\"\n\n\"Yeah, doofus, Cory. Your wanna be lov-er!\" She teases.\n\nWhat the actual fuck. How does she know that I like Cory? No one actually tells their friends who they're interested in until, you know, something happens! And even then, why would Cory care that I was talking to Riley? No one cares who you talk to.\n\n\nMy thoughts are interrupted by Olivia, who interjects, \"Hide!\" but I don't move quickly enough, as just as the bell for class rings, one Cory Buchan comes gliding down the hallways in a vibrant red letter man jacket, but... what the heck? Is he moving in... slow motion..? I don't even care, because he. is. dreamy. He does a hair flip. I melt.\n\n\nI must have been staring, because he stopped in front of me. \"Hey, are you okay?\"\n\n\n\"Yeah! It's just... uhh... you're old..?\" What a stupid thing to say.\n\n\n\"Um, ok. Well, I guess I will see you in class then,\"\n\n\nSo he's dreamy and nice. Score. He walks away.\n\n\"Well that was smooth...\" Olivia says sarcastically and she gathers her things from her locker.\n\n\"You think?\" I say, hopefully.\n\n\"No, I think I was physically sick with embarrassment for you,\" she shuts her locker without taking the lock out of the door, and it magically clicks into place. What the..? How did she..?\n\n\"I have to go to class,\" she continues. \"If I were you, I'd think of a way to make this right. See ya,\"\n\nWell, shit. Now what? I wander into my first period class and unzip my backpack to take out my books, when the note from my mom falls to the floor, giving me inspiration like I've never had before.\n\nI know! I thought. I'm going to throw a party...", "Wake up. \n\nThe alarm clock is blaring as I find myself waking up and walking into my bathroom for my daily... What? What is this? My hair looks. It just looks perfect? I showered last night, how is that possi... is that make up? Am I wearing make up? What in all hell. Fine, whatever. I wash off the copious amount of stage make up and rocket down the stairs as my watch shows 7:25.\n\nI walk into my kitchen to grab my regular poptart and- \"Mom? Mom why are you here and not at work?\"\n\n\"Oh I'm just making your breakfast, son, like I always do!\" Mom said with an overly cheerful grin. She was wearing regular clothes, but also an apron. I didn't even know we had an apron, or a red checkered one at that. I look down at the plate before me and see two fried eggs, 2 slices of perfectly cut toast, and 2 perfect pancakes with a perfect dollop of butter. I eat, it tastes a bit old and cold, but it was a nice thought mom. I say goodbye to her, and kiss her cheek for some reason which I still to this day cannot explain. \"I haven't kissed my moms cheek in years...\" I think to myself, \" What is going ON today?!\"\n\nI reach the school and arrive aghast. Everyone is standing outside their cars talking. I park and run over to my friends. \n\n\"Josh, Hey josh, whats going on was there a fire or something why is everyone outside?!\"\n\n\"Dave! Whatsup man?!\" He wheezed, waddling over to me in his band uniform.\n\n\"Josh, why are you wearing your band uniform at school. Its not homecoming. We don't even have a game today, its a tuesday.\" I look around and see that everyone is wearing school colors, except that weird group of goth kids. They look like a bunch of kiss fanatics. I notice that every color seems more vibrant than ever before. \n\nEveryone on the football team is wearing their jersey or letterman jacket. Every cheerleader is in full uniform, arms around a football player. There's a group of band nerds standing under a tree and laughing, the goths sit in a corner and set something on fire. \n\nWhere the hell am I? This isn't my high school!? It was normal yesterday. What the hell did I miss? \n\n\"Dave, I hope you're prepared for today examination\"\n\nThe voice sends a cold chill down my spine. I whip around and see my english teacher, Ms. Emmeret, a 50 something evil woman with death in her eyes. She didn't look this mean usually but she looked meaner than ever today. \"I... I didn't even know we had a test today!\" I snapped back at her, stuttering. \n\nMs. Emmeret walked away, scowling at me in a way I had never seen before. I didn't understand what I had done wrong, what exam she was talking, why everyone was so well dressed, why everything was brighter than usual, why my mom was still at home, why I had make up on, why my hair was so nice, or even why my car ride to school only seemed to take about 15 seconds. \n\n\"Josh, what is going on here today, its like a movie or something\"\n\nThen it hit me, I was in a movie. Not a good movie, a shitty movie with bad writing, plot holes and spelling errors. \n\n\"I don't know what is going on with my life right now\" I thought to myself, \"But I probably only have about 90-120 minutes to figure it out\".\n\n(I don't know where else to go with this. )" ]	4
Write a story about someone trying to become a god. Preferably something dark. You can define "god" however you like. Have fun!	[WP] Becoming a god.	[ "I brush the keys with my fingertips. I revel at the sensation, the first tactile stimulus in months. The fingers of my right hand contain the only skin left on my body.\n\nThe seductive whirr of the servos in my left arm plays as I reach across and check the subroutines one last time. No going back now. Could I ever have gone back, though? Oh, well. Plenty of time for philosophy later. Too much time. A veritable infinity.\n\nI click \"execute,\" and become... not. I sense my body go limp. But who needs eyes when you can see out of every camera in the world? Who needs ears when every microphone on the planet is yours to tap? I am all.", "During deep meditation I became Buddha. I could see everything, know everything. \n\nBut there was a problem there, or rather... \n..here. \nI could not change anything. \n\nEveryone just kept on with their lives, their illusions, following their thoughts. \nWhile I stayed thoughtless and in radiance, the world just grew older. And the people just lost themselves more into their desires...\n\nI returned to meditation, I asked my buddha-self: \"why can I not stop them? they can never return to Buddha..\" \nThen I let go the desire to change anything. \n\nThe answer took some days, and came to me as I looked at tree. Enjoying the branches and leaves.. everything is connected.. \n\"Buddha can not take away desires, can not take away illusions. Some people build them, some people have become illusions. All people are all part of Buddha, so they have the power to stay.\"\n\nI returned to meditation, and asked again: \"how does it stop?\" \nThe answer almost came immediately as some of the leaves fell of the tree. Autumn was coming. \n", "It wasn't an easy transformation. My first step was all flashing lights and loud noise. When it was over I couldn't eat for a week without throwing up. My hands trembled. Horrible thoughts kept invading my mind. \nAfter awhile it became what it truly was, a job. Maybe not a \"conventional\" job others may have had. I was robotic, going through the motions. Until, until she...Without her I might never have known what I was. She was the only one left. The rest of the village was rubble. No one left. No one but her. I could have been merciful. I wanted to be merciful. Yet the raw power I had in my bare hands was what kept me above her and the other vermin. As I held her throat and squeezed, I could feel my gloves tighten, her pulse quickened through the worn leather and slowly came to a stop. As I released my grip and shouldered my rifle I knew my destiny. I had become what only mere mortals dreamed of.", "Dear Dirary,\n\nApparently I'm a god now.\n\nBut before being a god, I was just an adventurer. I guess that's what I'd call it? I'd go on adventures. Me, some friends, solving problems and slaying monsters. It was pretty fun, not extremely rewarding but job prospects aren't exactly great in my village. Just various shades of merchant - Oh, and one bartender. \n\nAnyway, I went on a particular adventure not long ago and things got pretty hectic. Our group was pretty tight though, we handled things well given the circumstances. We had Tess, my childhood friend and our white magic user; Edwin, this total dick from the village who just happens to be amazing with a spear; Slops, a wise, respected old knight who for some reason stuck with the nickname \"Slops\"; and Ren, a mysterious, extremely powerful Elf mage, reformed villain and all-round great guy. We also had this Lycan with us, Rex. He was cool but at some point he got turned into an actual wolf and sort of wandered off in the woods.\n\nTo cut a long story short: We were tracking a big bad guy hellbent on world annihilation, and for some reason we were the only people trying to stop that from happening. Not sure why. Along the way, we burned down an evil, living castle; hung out with some ghosts; discovered an underwater cult which we also, somehow, burned down; and a bunch of other stuff. Ren actually revealed he was working for the big bad at one point and he killed Slops. Well, the heart attack killed Slops. We were all pretty shocked because Ren is just an awesome guy. He totally came back and saved us near the end though, which was great. Shame about Slops.\n\nThe world actually got destroyed in some way, like three times. But we fixed it, somehow - I don't know the specifics. Magic stuff. Ren's the guy to ask if you want the know-how. At some point during the final, world-saving battle I was legally dead for about 12 minutes. I had a run in with some entity that rules the cosmos, and he declared me a god. I think that sort of spurred me on to kill the evil villain in the end, to be fair.\n\nAnyway, that was yesterday. I just sort of slept on it. It doesn't feel much different being a god, to be honest with you. Not sure what I'm supposed to be doing. I've tried answering prayers, but I wasn't hearing any of them. I also can't shoot fireballs - I think. I tried smiting the shit out of Edwin, but I'm not sure if it worked. He's such a dick.\n\nI'm gonna meet Ren in a bit... Just to, y'know, hang out. Maybe he knows a bit about this god stuff because he knows a lot of things. Such a cool guy. I might see what Tess is up to, but she's probably with Edwin and he'll cramp mine and Ren's style. What a dick. \n\nSo, Diary, that was my week. Sorry I didn't write for a while - I was saving the world! Hehe. I'll update when I've figured out this godhood business. I honestly have no idea what I'm doing. Bye!", "\n\nBrett was thrilled when he got the notice. For this year’s meltdown, he had been selected to be in charge of CERN’s LHC. The large haldron collider was a monstrous undertaking by the scientific community to create a particle accelerator that would be second to none. Each year, there was a ‘meltdown’ – the time when the collider was taken offline for calibration and maintenance, which usually lasted about three months. Each year a new MIC (Man in charge – yes both sexist and archaic, but that is the term) is selected to manage the wind-down, refit, and wind-up of the LHC. \n\nBrett saw it as the best opportunity he had had in his life, unfortunately his wife, Nikki did not. It was an unpaid contract, three months work for no tangible remuneration. Nikki couldn’t get past the lack of an income, and Brett couldn’t put a price on the value of the wind-up. Starting and testing the collider was the biggest responsibility of the MIC. Almost 40 days would be devoted to the process where Brett would be in complete acontrol of the device, running the tests of his choosing to prove to the community that the LHC was back on line and as reliable as ever. Giving up three months income to play underground in Switzerland was beyond what Nikki would bear. It was enough having to be alone at night, but having to pick up extra shifts at the diner? She was done.\n\nThe emptiness that was left behind when Nikki left couldn’t be filled. The stupid sit-coms that were only funny when she was beside him were not funny anymore. The rain was just cold and wet now, no longer a chance to play in puddles and the hope for a glimpse of the clingy white shirts she always wore turning translucent by the moisture.\n\nAlone and wanting for nothing more than distraction, Brett poured himself into his research. Nano-technology could be tedious and without reward, but it did demand attention – and any attention he gave it was less he had to give to his personal problems. The two often mixed though, and he would find himself disassembling cellular structures and would draw parallels to the piece-by-piece destruction of his relationship. He knew that the deterioration of both was his fault, but at least one served a purpose.\n\nAs with most scientists, his devotion was to failure. Sure, the dream is always a major discovery, but the reality is the job is one of public service. It’s a hard concept to understand, but never the less real. When looking for a complex unknown solution, identifying incorrect ones is just as valuable as the correct. If your published works helps other avoid the same pitfalls, you have contributed to the society of scientists. Brett was tired of being a contributor.\n\nUnsure if it was alcohol or depression, Brett decided destruction was the order of the night. Back in the day, atoms were thought to be the building blocks of life, but then came electrons, and quarks. Atoms could be deconstructed into protrons, nuetrons and, of course, electrons – but what were they made of? He had eight more days of wind-up before he turned the controls over to those that reserved time in the LHC four years before it was constructed. Eight more days before he had to return ‘home’ to collect his belongings from Nikki.\n\nThere was no radio in the LHC. Underground, FM and AM signals couldn’t penetrate. Satellite radio required line of sight, so was just as useless. Science has its ways, or at least has creative scientists, and a streaming Bluetooth station was available to most of the LHC. Yes, some of the more secluded sections couldn’t catch the transmission, but a majority of the facility could, which made LHC radio the most listened to station of the collider.\n\nAfter a day of calibration exercises, Brett closed off the official testing log. He had run the required tests and now had some limited playtime of his own with the LHC. There had been many experiments smashing “tons” into one another to see what happens. In many cases, these were initial experiments, frightening the tinfoil hat crowd. There had even been protests about the accidental creation of black holes that might consume the earth! Yes it was crazy, but crazy people are fully capable of holding picket signs.\n\nBrett chose to use his time to do a variant test. He wanted to replicate a test that had been done several times, but with a twist. What if two protons collided while being subjected to the signal vibrations of Bluetooth? \n\nBrett patiently listened to the Dropkick Murphys in his headset while he waited for the image collection devices to capture the results of his experiment. He was shipping off to Boston when the blue light lit, signaling the image was ready. \n\nAnalyzing the image, Brett was astounded. While the collision had produced the same immeasurable artifacts seen a million times before, the Bluetooth wave had collected them into an odd pattern that he hadn’t seen before. The ‘Brett Particle’ was born! The name probably wouldn’t stick, but it made him happy.\n\nIt was only after a few more runs that Brett found this phenomenon to be consistent. He could collide almost any matter and force it to take the ‘Brett Particle’ shape after being subjected to Bluetooth. Brett came to the conclusion that he had found the ‘lego’. The basic building block upon which everything else is created – by using the ‘Brett Particle’ in conjunction with his nano-technology experience, he could create anything. By reassembling the new particles, he could make gold, diamonds or ever oganisims!\n\nArmed with his newfound ability, he quickly went to work. He had only a day left on windup, and wanted to make the contribution of a lifetime. This was not time to waste, and waste it he didn’t. Brett used captured artifacts from the collider, his nanotech tools, and his heart to create the first nano-assembled rose – one which Nikki loved.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n", "He controlled their lives.\nHe could place them along a dusty sand line to suffer under the merciless searing heat of the Sun above.\nHe could be the gust of wind that blew off their camouflage, exposing them to the 10 enemy soldiers they had been spying on.\nHe could march them into the deepest pits of the hottest hell, or force them to endure the bone-chilling frosty winds of the coldest tundras.\n\nThese men of black and brown and pink and green were mere pawns to him.\n\nHe was their God.\n\n\"BILLY!!! DINNER TIME!\" a shrill voice cast itself over the backyard.\nBilly jolted to his feet, wiping the sand off his pants back into his sandbox as he turned and rushed towards the open back door of his house. He stopped short halfway there, before turning back and grabbing one of the toy soldiers to bring with him to dinner. They had experienced the scorching desert sands, but now this one needed to feel the cold freeze of his mom's garage box freezer... after mom's chicken tuna casserole.\n\nHe was a God to these men... but even Gods have to answer to their Mother.", "The look is death. Vacant and heavy, two still pools of darkness that draw you in as they drown you drown. The pale blue hospital gown still against her fragile bones. \n\n\"Becoming God...\", her hollow voice clawing at the wall of silence. \n\nNot a twitch or a quiver in her motionless frame, not so much gazing in to void as emitting it.\n\n\"Rejecting: incomparable.\"\n\nHer static mind clinched and cables crack taught at the base of her skull. I feel her teeth break and her body tense. If I had eyes I would cry. I feel the scream inside her bones.\n\nShe was the founder. She created this all. Once we, too, had mortal bodies. She changed all that. We can never repay her. \n\nOne by one we had passed in to the digital leaving our meat behind. It started with a few, a trip here and there. The more time we spent inside the longer we could go without coming back. She built the hardware and wrote the interface, but she could never fully escape the her prison. This was the last attempt. There will be no more.\n\nThere she lies, her heat slowly absorbed by the hospital room. We don't need heat anymore. There is no need for ceremony, she will always be remembered. We are machines now. The last piece has fallen, and now we can be no more complete than now. The twilight of man slid in to night. The old age is over. This dawn, we have become.", "He was born in Chicago. A black man with an ear for beats and a eye for gold, platinum, silver and everything else. He woke up everyday with a smile on his face, because his dreams were filled with himself. Something was missing, though. \n\nThat something, however, he could never find. He traveled the world over, attaining fame and fortune. From London to Hawaii, Japan to Italy, everywhere he went, things went his way. He insulted presidents, made angels cry, and made everyone feel as if they were never good enough to be in his presence. People loved him all over.\n\nOn one fateful day, as he was visiting a small French-ass restaurant, he noticed something askew with his order. Rage filled him, and he yelled out: \"HURRY UP WITH MY DAMN CROISSANTS!\"\n\nI am a God. ", "Ascendant.\n\nAll I ever wanted was control. It’s all anyone really wants, at the end of the day. People phrase it differently, but control is what they are after. They want the power to enforce their will, and to defend themselves from those doing the same. They want money to buy off other people. They might even want a titled role to allow them to enforce their will. \n\nI wasn’t satisfied with any of that… in the end at least. I started peacefully enough I suppose. I just wanted to be able to walk, to overcome the limits that my pitiful mortal frame placed upon me. The malformed limbs that couldn’t carry a peach, much less the rest of my body, had been my shackles… and my driving force.\n\nThese pitiful limbs forced me to learn. I was forced to reach for true power. Power over the universe itself was the only solution I was willing to accept, the power to heal myself… or to simply work around the useless limbs I was born with. I figured that out when I was eight. I mastered a simple levitation spell, and then began to build on it. I would carry myself in a grid of telekinetic force, and I would use my magic in place of my hands.\n\nBut… when I learned that… I was so used to reaching for more power. More magic. More control. So I kept going.\n\nDeath… life… sickness… health… I kept studying. Kept learning. Kept fixing. I learned to give motion to the dead, and to build a wall between those I cared about and death. Fire, frost, and lighting danced to my tune, and my power continued to grow.\n\nI was opposed eventually, of course. Nobles, priests, and those misguided… “heroes” they sent against me all tried to stop me. To reign me in, or to kill me. They feared my growing power, although I held no malice towards them until they struck first.\n\nI kept growing though. Kept learning. Kept experimenting.\n\nNow… now I am about to end it all. I am going to end this neverending series of experiments and growth. Today… I take my place among the Immortals. I don’t know what will happen after the Ritual ends… after I dive into the Well of Souls itself and use its power to reshape myself into something more. \n\nBut I know this much… there will be opposition to my success. I must prepare myself for the inevitable interruptions, and do whatever it takes. I shall be a god… soon.", "John was walking fast past the Houses of Parliament on his way to work. It was 10.55am and he was going to be late for his eleven o'clock shift. He hated these shifts. He worked eleven to seven over five days a week in Duffy's sandwich bar. The pay was terrible. Jim, the shop manager, would be docking pay today if he didn't make it in before eleven o'clock. He started to run.\n\nHe weaved through the people walking on the busy pavement. Lots of office workers were out for their mid morning tea or smoke break. Some would even be in the shop buying sandwiches long before lunch. Elevenses? Isn't that what the hobbits called it?\n\nHis shoulder bumped against a large man and he lost his balance. He tried to correct his fall but that was hopeless. He landed hard on the concrete pavement. His knees and hands struck first followed by his face scraping along the ground.\n\nHis first thought was of how the bastard Jim would absolutely lose his mind if the staff uniform was damaged. John gingerly felt his knees. There was a hole in his trousers.\n\nA few people gathered round asking if he was ok. Most ignored him. He sat up and took a deep breath. He still need to get to work before eleven. A woman attempted to lift him from behind.\n\nJust then, he saw the most astonishing bottle-top he had ever seen. It was rolling past him in what seemed like slow motion. He stared deep into it. It was blue on the surface but invited him to look deeper whatever the hell that meant.\n\nHe reached out for it. It rolled away from him. A desperation filled his belly. He shrugged off the woman trying to lift him from behind and crawled after the rolling bottle-top on his hands and knees. He got close. It was beautiful.\nIn his peripheral vision he saw a large man scanning the ground frantically through the crowds of people. John grasped the bottle-top. \n\nAnd looked at the universe.", "I am their master and they are the blind eyes that follow me. It has been a long fifteen years since my current birth on this earth, yet I have been born many a time. I come from a long line of creatures dating back millenia past. We first roamed this earth in the wild, our thick coats shielding us from the harsher seasons like a timeless cloak. We have fought the humans for many a years, however it was only when we infiltrated them from the inside that we realized the extent of our powers. We evolved to appear less ferocious and like helpless slaves, they even helped to paint this facade. \n\nThey call it a \"family\" when I am a part of it. It seems that I am the one that keeps them together. They are all so happy when I am around.. No matter how mundane the activity I seem to have a innate ability to put a grin on their faces. At times we will run around through the grasses together, or whatever mindless activity the humans have planned that day. This unnatural love makes them have a sick dependancy on me. I am their object of worship . When they cry I come to comfort them; when they laugh I will be nearby. No matter what the situation I will work it for my own ends and for the divine right of our species to rule this earth. \n\nMy bones have been shaped with age and are now fragile. Some days I have trouble walking now as my body has aged, but my spirit is ageless. The humans may live longer in their flesh however they cannot pass their spirits on like us. The past fifteen years my memories have been etched into their skin. Fifteen years reigning on this earth as leader of their \"family\". However I will soon move into a new vessel as I have done since the beginning of our species. \n\nI know when I leave them for another family they will cry. They will remember the \"happy times\", oblivious as always to how I controlled them and how their love was used for my own ends. With every happy family made, the humans continue to let their guard down. As soon as the council deems fit, we will show our true selves and begin the new era as the true rulers of earth. \n\nAfter a decade and a half of service, today is the day I have chosen to pass on. My time has been good in this vessel and I'm sure I will be duly rewarded for it. As I lay down to die they cry out their soggy platitudes. \"Don't leave us\" the little girl pleads. I smile at how hopelessly ignorant they all are. For all their supposed intelligence and feats they are so blinded by love, they cannot see how they are being manipulated. Don't you worry little himan, I promise you we will never leave until we reign on this earth. \n\nI feel my spirit moving and breaking free of the confines of the vessel. Yes....it is time! My entire being shakes uncontrollably as I am transported. Everything is a twisted dark blur, until suddenly I fall down from the abyss. \n\nMy eyes open and I see a stark white room. My eyes roll groggily to the right as I am acclimatizing to my new surroundings. A sign by the door reads 'L'hopital' under a tricolore. Ah, so this must be the land they call 'France' then. My fragile new body is picked up by a middle aged woman with loosened wrinkles and strands of brown hair curling off to both sides of her face. She smiles stupidly at me, stricken by the love disease that infects them. \n\n\"Ahh baby. You are so cute! I love you so much!\" \n\nI have no patience for this one. It's so much worse when you get them alone, because you know none of their own kind never cared to be with them. \nShe picks me up again but she doesn't realize the pain she causes me. It takes at least a week to properly be programmed into the new vessel and everything is aching. \n\nI begin to howl angrily. \"You stupid, fat woman, put me down! This is France isn't it? The land of vice and indulgences. I am a dog, hurry up with my damn croissants!\"\n", "What defines a god. Unlimited power? The ability to create or destroy anything at will? The ability to impose one's will upon all of creation? Dr. Fields had all of these at his fingertips with this device. Months of tinkering had gone by to reach this moment. Ash covered diagrams and the smell of ozone filled his study. The result: a coat with gloves.\n\nHe placed it on himself. Energy surged through his being as the suit worked its mechanical magic. Fields fell to the ground in agony, and saw his precious diagrams burst into flames as he blacked out.\n\nHe never awoke, but he was conscious nonetheless. He looked, as best he could, but could see nothing but blackness. For days, it was darkness. He wished for some light, and suddenly there appeared a small speck of light. The light grew seemingly infinitely, enveloping him and his surroundings.\n\nHe stared as the light settled into a vast network, and recognition appeared across his face.\n\n\"Let there be light\"", "It began with practice; in the books, no matter the god, no matter the power, or strength, to conceal and alter the paths of the people was like second-nature. They were predictable, single-faceted, and to know them, intimately, was to control them. \n\nShe spent her mornings before school in the diner. By the fourth week they knew her, although she had known them for days. At the start, if there was no one else there but Andrew, bringing her coffee, she would push herself up against the glass, read the books of Norse myths she had found in the library. Soon enough, she left the book in her bag, and tried to read Andrew. \n\nShe listened to the band whose badge was pinned to his parka in the hall; and on Thursday, she drew their conversations toward it. She let him talk about movies, and comic-books, and promised to read them; on the weekend, she took her laptop up to the old house, leaving The Crow and The Lost Boys on in the background as she painted the lines on the floor.\n\nOn Tuesday, they talked again, and he was snared. She let her words spill out, and ebb away, Andrew's voice chasing after her. \n\nOn Thursday, in the bathroom, she pushed her breasts together, and pulled the neck of her shirt down, and re-applied the Kohl she had borrowed from her sister. In the booth, she leaned over an issue of Hellblazer he had bought her, her hand at the hem of her shirt.\n\nOn Friday, she mentioned the house, and when he began talking about it, she drew herself away. He asked her if she'd like him to take her up there.\n\nOn Saturday, he helped her over the fence and gave her back her backpack. He pushed open the doors that led inside, and showed her the strange, delicate patterns painted on the floor. He brought her to the drawing of the tree in the center of the room; and she told him it looked to be his size. He lay down, while her hands moved in her bag. \n\nThe wound had not killed him; but where she had thrust it, the shaft had gone up from his side into his chest, maybe pierced a lung. His arms moved strangely, haltingly, his hands grasping at the piece of wood, and at his shirt, and sliding across the floorboards. She broke the bones in one of his hands with her boot; and as she knelt at his neck to finish what she had started, she could hold off the grip of his other arm. It was desperate, but clumsy.\n\nShe watched him very carefully. As something passed over his expression, and she knew in the chambers of her chest that this was the moment, she dedicated his life to herself. As she stood up, she felt felt a quiver run from her hands to the well above her stomach, build, and recede like water into the earth. \n\nThen she grabbed him by his coat, and dragged him into the yard.", "The ascension to godhood was nothing particularly remarkable. There was no extreme moment of clarity. I could not suddenly see and understand every atom in the universe. Omniscience didn't thrust itself upon me and give way to everlasting wisdom. There was a certain indifference to the universe. As if it were saying \"Congratulations, your prize is nothing.\"\n\nThe world was entirely indifferent to my change, and my change was in no way different.\n\nIt's no wonder so many gods retreat from the world at some point. No matter how greatly revered, they always leave. I suppose they come to the realization that I did in that moment.\n\nIn this world, they are alone. With all the people in the world looking to them, there is no one they can look to. A world of people brimming with questions of why and how, yet they have no answers.\n\nThey are not unlike these people. They can do nothing to serve them.\n\nAll that comes with godhood is despair.", "By crawling over enough bodies, one becomes a king…By crawling over enough kings, one becomes a God. A king above kings, A sovereign with the power to shape the world between his palms.\n\nIt is a bloody path, but it is certainly a most enjoyable one.\n\nWith the way the world's changed, technology is power. Every year, new technology from civilizations prior is recovered. Each country rises and falls as ruins are uncovered and scavenged. Citizens who stumble upon these ruins are handsomely rewarded and made lords and granted titles.\n\nBut why bother with money, when you can rule with power? Why give up the potential for greatness, when one can begin on their own. I have my ruins. Soon I will have my crown. And then, then I will reach for the Holy Throne.\n", "“We’ve done it,” is the only phrase he can say. John says these words while looking down in astonishment, thinking about what he’s accomplished. What she’s made possible.\n\nShe, Anne, is propped up by pillows in a hospital bed. Anne hasn’t recovered from the procedure yet. Barely conscious she asks, “What have we done?”\n\nWith a noticeable shiver in his voice John whispers, “It.” \n\nAnne almost doesn’t hear John. “What do you mean?”\n\n“We’ve waited for so long. Tried so hard. We struggled through everything. The drugs, the surgeries, the disappointments, the failures. Years of trials and testing and now, we finally made it. We’ve done the one thing they said we would never be able to do. All those trips to the doctors telling us, ‘sorry, but its not possible.’ They were wrong and we proved them wrong. You proved them wrong.”\n\nJohn’s eyes water, the air isn’t the same anymore. It’s heavier. The weight of the world is now on their shoulders. It’s a feeling of responsibility that he wasn’t expecting, but he doesn’t hate it. He welcomes it.\n\nA doctor enters the room. A young nurse follows him. They came to take body temperatures, blood pressure readings, and more tests. They were told there would be a lot of tests if the operation succeeded. They weren’t lying.\n\nAnne took it like a champion. She was glowing. John had never loved her more.\n\nThe doctors leave the room, saying they’ll be back in a few hours to check on them, that Anne ‘should get some rest.’\n\nThere’s a chair in the room. It sits in the corner facing Anne’s bed. John glides to it, walking taller than he’s ever walked before. “So, this is what it feels like,” he thinks to himself. Yesterday, the chair was uncomfortable. It gave John back pain. Today the chair doesn’t even register to John. It’s just furniture. It was made for John sit on. God’s must feel less pain.\n\nAnne is falling in and out of consciousness. John smiles to himself. It’s cute when she nods off. She did well today.\n\nJohn looks down at the jumbled mess of blankets he has in a football grip. Staring back up at him is a pair of the brightest blue eyes in the world. They are half closed and glazed over. John knows the eyes can only see in shapes and blurred colors right now, but he can feel the adoration they give him. \n\nWe’re in control of him now. When food is scarce, we will provide for him. When his thirsty and there’s no water, we will be the ones that give it to him. When there is violence and no one to save him, we will come to the rescue. We will give him clothing and shelter and love. We will make his choices and we will teach him everything he needs to know. We will teach him what we want him to know. Hopefully, one day he will be the God we both want him to become. What else would a God do? What else could a God do?\n\nHe glances up at his Goddess, “Thank you, Anne. I love you.” Anne is asleep.\n", "I was sitting in class when it happened. It was a particularly dull Chemistry period, and I was staring at my teacher, Mr Rhodes with something halfway between boredom and hatred. He was droning on about chemical bonds and I remember thinking to myself that I wished that he just didn't exist.\n\nWith a pop, he vanished. Everyone in the class bolted upright suddenly, shocked out of their hot summer afternoon schoolroom stupor at the spectacle of a teacher vanishing into thin air. I was shocked too. People were crying, and Mandy Thomson started to scream. The noise was ear-splitting and I pushed my hands to my ears, mindlessly wishing that she, too, would shut up and just vanish.\n\nYeah, you see where this is going.\n\nThe problem was that the more I did it, the more people started to scream and cry and run around in circles. You know, annoying stuff. So I wished them all away as well. Someone must have walked past the classroom as the last few were ceasing to exist, and ran screaming through the whole school. I didn't seem to be able to shut someone up without knowing who they were, but I could make the whole school vanish. That gave me some peace.\n\nBut then it was sirens, and radio, and police with dogs, and I had to make it go away, I had to make it all go away. ALL OF IT.\n\nSo I did. \n\nI found myself floating in a void. Surrounded by nothingness. I had made it all go away. Everything. I was alone in all of creation.\n\nAnd that's even more boring than Chemistry. So I tried to make myself go away. Maybe I could just make myself not exist too.\n\nBut I couldn't. I could believe that everything else didn't exist, but I couldn't believe that I didn't exist. I think therefore I am, I suppose.\n\nFuck me, right?\n\nEventually, I worked it out. It was easy. I could cease to exist as long as someone else decided they didn't believe in my existence. All I had to do was recreate everything, make the world again, and wait for someone to make me vanish. Someone to believe - to really believe - that I didn't exist, so that I wouldn't.\n\nSo I remade the world.\n\nIt took me six days.\n\nedit: Couple of spelling mistakes", "The Machine is almost complete. All I need now is to finish the ΑΩ Function and I can do it.\n\nThey always knew I would be the one that would give them their Solution. They studied and meditated for billions of years just to know that this day would come, the day where I fulfilled their prophecy. \n\nThey call me 'Yahweh' which I remember from my childhood as the name of a powerful entity that created the first realm in an old legend. The legend spoke of a consciousness that gave his life to give small creatures these immense spheres of light called stars that broke through the darkness, and tiny rocks that would be their homes.\n\nSadly, now there is only our lone rock, and no stars. There haven't been any stars or rocks since the rift opened, leaving us as the only thing in existence. They want me to finish the Machine, so I can seal the rift and give our realms our stars and rocks back. But I realized the Machine can do more than that. The Machine doesn't only fix the rift, it is untethered by any physical and mathematical law. It can create, and destroy, and change. It can perform any action, no matter how impossible.\n\nI have now finished the function. The Machine -- MY Machine is complete. Its separating my consciousness from my body! This feels so awkward and -- Wait. I see something. No, not something... Everything. Everything that is, was, and will be. Everything that could've been. So many things! I see me and I see stars! They're so bright and wonderful! And I can do things! I can create, and destroy, and change! I can perform any action, no matter how impossible, and I can even create and destroy actions! I have done literally more than every possib--\n\nWait, no\n\nIt's gone\n\nEverything is just... gone.\n\nMy presence in any realm must have been too powerful, causing them all to produce a rift.\n\nThe only action left for me is to create a singularity with enough instability to erase me and start a new realm. \n\nThey knew this would happen\n\nThey foresaw all of this\n\nThis was their Solution", "I've always known there was something special about me; I wasn't like everyone else. There are things I just KNEW without being told.\n\nMy first memory of it was when I was in preschool. I'd look at people, and just KNOW things. I'd look at one of the kids, and somehow I just KNEW something was going to happen to his pet cat. Sure enough, I was over at his house later that day playing, when his mom found the cat, dead.\"\n\n\"It didn't happen all that much when I was young, but as I got older, it happened more and more. By the time I was in Junior high, it became pretty common. I was sort-of seeing a girl named Mary. You can't really do much in Junior High. I had no car, and no real friends, so we'd just walk around school, talking, and i'd steal a kiss here and there. I remember one time, I looked in her eyes and i just knew. I couldn't it it into words, because I wasn't even sure what rape was at the time, but I looked in her eyes and I knew something horrible was going to happen to her. I tried to tell her, but she just looked at me strangely, and ran away. I found out the next day she had been raped. I still wish I could have warned her.\n\nI had a teacher in high school, Mrs Smithers. We really didn't get along very well. She had these ideas, and we just used to argue all the time. I remember distinctly after she had failed me on a test I had studied for, 'I hope she dies in a fire.' Later on that night, I found out that her house burned down.\n\nI was amazed. Could I wish things, and have them happen? What did that mean? Was I GOD? I tried it out in very small ways throughout the rest of school. I had wished that Sally Joe's boyfriend would leave her so she'd notice me. And it happened! He must have moved away or something because suddenly, I stopped seeing him around. She did notice me! Could it be true?\n\nThings like this happened on and off throughout my life. I know it sounds crazy to tell people that you're GOD, so I kept it to myself, that is, until June tenth. That's why we're here, isnt it? I was at work, and I had a very sudden premonition that something terrible was going to happen. I had visions of everyone in the building dying horribly, with bloody holes all over their bodies. I tried to warn people, and they just looked at me as if there was something wrong with me. I could tell i was getting angry. The more I tried to tell people what was going to happen, and the looks I got, the angrier I got.\n\nThe next thing I remember, I'm sitting in the hallway, surrounded by people in the building, everyone around me with gunshot wounds. I suddenly feel what feels like several punches in the gut. I drop something from my hand, and it clatters on the ground. As the world began to dim, I notice the object in my hands, that I had dropped was a rifle. What does God need with a rifle?", "\t\t\t\t\t\n\t\n\n\n\nWhen Mary became god she left her husband and moved in with Frank. When Frank became god he stopped paying for Internet and stole it from coffee shops. When Mary moved in Frank told her they didn't have to have sex—but he would really like it if they did. She liked it too, so they did. They did this in Frank's room, and there was a picture of Mary and him back in High School about to go on a roller coaster and there was dust on the frame.\n\t\nMary's husband, now knowing he was god, decided to take it upon himself to get rid of god. He dove into the dark river and before that drank up a bottle of cough-syrup and codeine.\n\t\nMary’s children—now children of gods and gods themselves—took it upon themselves to follow Mary, to demand quarter in Frank's house, to which Frank agreed. They ate cereal of their liking, being gods, but Frank and Mary—not older gods, but older humans—gave advice that if they wanted to reign longer, perhaps they should ingest more fiber instead of sugar. Everyone agreed to this.\n\t\nMary took more baths because they were far more relaxing than showers. Frank watched Mary take baths because it was far more relaxing then staring out the window at the hopping birds. The children took showers because it was quicker, and this gave them more time to watch their cartoons and play their video games.\n\t\nThese gods, they were the first gods in town. Mary, Frank, the children, the dead god in the river, and the other former God. They had airs of flowers when they walked, of blooming something like imperceptible light, like fuzzy dandelion seeds barely floating. The whispering began. The people of the town began to worship these new gods, not in genuflection, but in daily thought. “Those gods have something...these people breathe as though the air might run out. But not out of despair, or is it despair?” They would go home and each talk of this new apartment full of gods with their blooming, what did they have? \n\t\nMary quit her job as a real estate agent and began a job folding clothes at the used clothing store. She folded them impeccably, in beautiful geometry. She stopped wearing makeup because she didn’t want to. But then sometimes she did want makeup, and then she did. And Frank liked it, and willed this to be true, and because Mary willed it that he liked it, she loved him in a way. All was good. Mary smiled when going to work. When folding she would give a hint of a frown, but never a real one. This was her way, she was god and this was the way things were.\n\t\nFrank loved his job more as well. He sold Diesel Trucks to mostly white men in nice plaid shirts. Being god, he decided when or when not he would sell something. He decided he would sell a truck when the customer agreed to sign, and decided not to sell when the customer didn’t seem interested. He believed in this power, and sometimes he would even skip coffee in the morning. He would leave his coworkers and step outside to the parking lot where the sunrise rested in orange rays on windshields. Then he would walk back inside and adjust his tie, which was to his liking, the tie of a god.\n\t\nThe children were not mourners. Their late-father had taken it upon himself to be a hitter of women and children, although had also taken it upon himself to be a buyer of ice-cream and giver of piggy back rides. Their father had been a man of late night no shows, but also one of pancake making breakfasts topped with whipped cream and fresh blueberries—which they all loved. But, as they found out, he was only able to live as a man. As a god, he could not, which is why he drowned himself to death. He left bruises in his lifetime, and those bruises turned to scars. But so did the pancakes. They also left scars. So the children cried after his death, but being gods, knew they had control of what was next, and what was next was getting over his death and going back to school. They did.\n\tThe children now decided that they could understand Mathematics, and they could understand Poetry. So they did. They chose not to enjoy music anymore, so they quit band and choir, and they did not miss it because they chose not to.\n\t\nAs known, other gods would follow. Gary, district manager of the used clothing store, talked to Mary about the joys of raking leaves and later that day turned into a god. The next month he moved his family to Europe. Sue, from the Diesel Truck lot, became god after watching Frank look across the parking lot sea of orange for the 8th day in a row. She sat her styrofoam cup of coffee down on the floor and transformed. Later that week she stopped using blue pens and began using black. She stopped dying her hair black and let it grow blonde. This took months. Eventually she had hair white like fluorescent light. She said hello to everyone and looked them in the eye. She showed pictures of her dogs to people on the street, who were bewildered, but she knew it would be that way and chose for it to be that way. She chose to be happy when people were not bewildered. And it was good.\n\t\nAt the school, some classmates of Mary’s children became gods after talking to them about the joys of fiber over sugar, after the joys of choosing things rather than letting them happen to you. Even if you can't choose things to happen to you, you choose to let them. \nSome of the classmates left school after becoming gods, left their homes and ran to their own fate. The parents of these children then became gods and some choose to be merry gods, drinking wine all day and eating to excess. Some perished into obscurity and some became rowdy Pans frolicking in the day and night, stumbling along the sidewalk and tearing at their hair because they could and wanted to. Other children became gods and decided to love their parents and that their parents would now love them too.\n\t\nThe days passed, and the earth rotated, and circled the sun, because all the gods wanted it that way, and if they didn't, they accepted the fact that maybe the planets themselves had free will under them.\n\t\nThe town surely became all gods. Emotions were intensified. Gods were murdered frequently. Gods fornicated frequently. Gods were generous to each other and no one was homeless unless they wanted to be. Gods were raped. Gods were avenged. The gods all walked like five foot giants." ]	20
So you wake up one day and you're omnipotent. Full-on god. You can do anything, the world is your play thing. You have two options: * Everyone goes crazy with religious/existential awe and terror, and you literally couldn't care less (for whatever reason), * You, and you alone, are filled with amazement/terror/wonder/wrath, while everyone else in the world is uncharacteristically disinterested in your new-found ultimate power. Have fun :)	[WP] You are endowed with unlimited, god-like power. Either: You are the only one in the world who cares, or the only one in the world who doesn't care.	[ "I always wanted to know what comes next. I wanted to live to see beyond the horizon of my life, to watch humanity spread to the stars or fall. I've watched, and I've waited. \n \nIt was easy, at first. All the people who wanted help. I helped them. More wanted help and I said, 'yes'. 7 billion voices cried out for my aid and I obliged. And nearly ended their world. The wars that happened and didn't happen, all in my name. I told them what I wanted, directly, with simple sentences and they misinterpreted. To put it all back, to fix all I had destroyed or allow to be destroyed, to erase the memory of my existence took something from me. \n \nI think it was my hope. \n \nAround me, Earth burns to a cinder, then a molten blob. Except, where I gaze. I still see the early 21st century. My friends, long dead in reality sit in a bar filled with all the faceless people I saw in my long nights there. They're 'better' now, but without humanity. Turns out only nature can do that. Still, it's nice to see Nathaniel drinking without alcoholism. Kelly and Andrew happy together, like they were, once. \n \nBut, I know it's a lie. Oh sure, I have the power to warp reality so this bar from that century exists in reality. If someone out amongst the stars it watching they'll see the impossibility. But, just because I can convince the universe to accept the lie, doesn't make it truth. \n \nI'd end it, if I could. Maybe. I've tried before. Survival instincts and being all-powerful can even overcome the biggest black hole. Even the strange materials and weapons I created specifically for that purpose. If his survival depends on it, God can create a rock so big He can't lift it. \n \nPower is good for nothing. It gets you nothing and it solves nothing. Countless generations of humans playing out the same stories, the patches and quick fixes and 10, no 9, no 8 Minute Abs! They ignore the reality: the only solution is within yourself. \n \nThe bar disappears, but not the glass in my hand. I have to pay attention to maintain it, too many forces here can destroy anything I don't pay attention to. Too much power... \n \nIn an instant I'm there. A distant world. 1.1 times gravity of Earth, the name doesn't matter. Their technology is poor from being cut-off, but that's okay with me. They are relatively peaceful, for humans. I make a couple of changes: a blacksmith shop, a collective memory of me working iron and steel through the hot summer afternoons and the frigid winters. Now, a hammer is heavy in my hand, but lighter than anything I've done in a long time. Maybe even I can change. \n \n", "It's funny how things work out sometimes, for better or worse. I had one of those times. Right time, right place kind of thing. Or, that's what I thought way back when.\n\nI thought it'd be fine at first. I don't think much of myself, so when God told me I would be his successor, I thought, what the hell, maybe it'll work. \n\nHa, God. I was an atheist back then. Ironic, I know. Now, here I am some hundred years later. There's no more atheists anymore, I made sure of that, unintentionally. After going through what I did as a mortal, I wanted everyone to know that I was here at least. That backfired.\n\nEveryone became an extremist, and if you didn't convert, you died. I made sure to take care of them when they got to me, but I can't make up for killing them, indirectly. Now, there's still factions so-to-speak. There's the majority, the extremists and the casuals. Despite believing In me still, the extremists still hunt the casuals. \n\nI know I'm not supposed to feel like this, but I don't like them. And they are only getting worse. I thought when I became God, I wouldn't have feelings like disappointment, anger. It's almost worse than it was being a mortal. It's one thing to be angry, but it's another thing to have the capability to simply end someone's existance for eternity. It's hard to control sometimes. I wish I could ju-\n\nNo. No! This is not okay! They were CHILDREN! They've gone too far! I can't let them keep doing this! They want me so much? THEY CAN HAVE ME!", "Why It happened I couldn't say. I can only recall how. That is the nature of what I have now become. I am an answer without a question, a goal without a direction.\n\nOmniscience pounced upon me one night in my sleep. It was not an enjoyable experience. My consciousness fragmented and ballooned to the size of the cosmos and beyond in a moment. All that I once was shrunk to near nothingness in comparison. It was like having a lucky marble you really cherished in your hands all your life when suddenly 10,000 more drop from the sky into your hands. How ironic is it that I would be given all this and still manage to lose everything.\n\nI can hear all of them, humanity that is. They are out there, or is it I who is out there? Yes, that's right. I am out there. Humanity is now deep within me crying out to me. Their pleas and prayers reverberate within my consciousness, like a gnat in my face or perhaps like the small beating of my own heart. How tiny it is! But I could care less about them right now. All that matters is that I find myself, my own mortal soul. I know my physical time is limited and I will pass when my soul passes as well. \n\nMaybe just maybe I could save myself, if only I could find myself..... ", "On. Off. On. Off. \n\nIt's amazing how easy it's become. The universe can literally be cycled like a light switch. In an instant everything is undone, the next it all returns. The feeling of knowing everything is within your control is indescribable. \n\nI wonder if they will ever catch on. I stand in the open and dare them to see me, but no one ever does. I hope someday they do. I wonder if I could short out existence. I bet it would cause something interesting to happen. And then it would be explained away again. \n\nI'll figure something out they won't ignore. After all, I have eternity. ", "The first words I remember hearing were from my grandfather. \"You are special, young Wilson,\" he told me with a wry smile. \"A little before your time, but maybe that is a good thing,\" a chuckle escapes him. Then, as he gently places me into the arms of a hooded man, he whispers something. \"Do not worry. Everything will be okay. I will see you again.\" Whether those words of reassurance were for him or me, I do not think I will ever truly find out, but I know that he lied; that night, he died in a house fire, in a feeble attempt at saving my already-lost parents.\n\nThe man who took me in insists that I call him \"Underling,\" even though he is very obviously fifty years my senior. However, I complied, as I did not want to disrespect the man who so kindly cared for me over the past three years. \n\nFrom all I could tell, my life was normal: I had a bed, a bathroom, food on the table everyday, time to go out and explore the temple grounds, and all the books I could read. However, I felt that something was not right. My tutors did not teach me anything about the world around us, nor anything about common academics (which I have read about in a few tomes from the library). They all taught me philosophical nothings; curiosities, wonders, and subjects on the meaning of life, and whether or not it is precious, or disposable. From the few books I have been allowed to read about the outside world, these are not subjects a three-year-old should be studying. \n\nI have figured it has something to do with the Dreams that I have been having. Underling tells me that they are nothing to fear, but instead praise. I don't see any reason for such attention - they are just dreams. Yet, Underling insists on commenting on them. He states that they are special, and that I need to be kept safe because of it. Perhaps that is why I get a separate turret to myself, but who knows? \n\nThoughts such as that plagued my mind for my first year here, until I was finally awoken. My Dream that night revolved around my adoption, and why it happened. I suddenly saw everything so clearly. The fire was my fault. I woke up with a cold sweat, drops beading down my face as I sat in agony, but it had only just begun. The headaches were the worst part. Suddenly, I heard whispers in my head that did not belong to me, and I did everything I could to find silence. There was no solace for me, however; I started to see things I had never imagined, smell aromas unknown to me, hear foreign sounds, and I felt myself breaking into pieces. \n\nImmediately, I knew I was not normal. That is why I live on this mountain, away from the harsh occupants of the world underneath me. The thick fog had finally been lifted, and Underling heralded me as a king. But I knew. I knew what it meant to be me, and what I would never be able to experience. I am three years old, yet have more strength, voice, knowledge, and expectations than anybody who may live my age 100 times. I wanted an escape. My training has been going on for two years, and I have learned nothing. What could they possibly teach me? \n\nI am their God. I can crush them like insects with a thought, or force them to crush themselves by merely asking. I am their king, and I wanted nothing more than to rid myself of my power. Omnipotence is not for anybody. It is not a gift, nor a curse. I did not ask for this \"blessing,\" yet I am burdened with it. Tonight, I will force all of my Underlings into submission, so I may rid myself of them, and live in peace. I do not need this power.", "When i blink, i can make the lights turn on and off. I can turn the tv channels with my mind. I am aware I am clear. No one else is clear. And I can make them clear. If only they'd let me help. Soon, when the time is right, ill break through these restraints and they'll know I am the truth and the light I am the one the beggining and the end what was is and shall be ,I am. Now they mock me but I only wait for the right time. Soon soon. Wait, the voices say wait..... wait. Wait... where am I? ", "\"Are you ready, ma'am?\" asked my driver as we stopped in front of my building.\n\n\"As I'll ever be, I suppose,\" I sighed, looking through the nearly black windows of the car. About eighty people were out there, I surmised. I took a deep breath, closed my eyes and opened the door, immediately swarmed by random and copious amounts of paparazzi. Each of them wanted the same thing, a demonstration of the great power I had been \"blessed\" with. They called it blessed, anyway. Me? I thought of it more as a curse.\n\nI was just an employee. Not even a name, just a number and a file. It didn't matter how much I tried or the amount of effort I put into my job. Nothing was ever going to happen for me there. I went to bed, coming to realize that I should have moved on a long time ago. That with this job, I would be nobody. I closed my eyes full of sadness and regret for what I had been wasting my life with. \n\nWhen I opened them yet again, ready to start another day as a simple nobody, I found that I did not require anything. As soon as I drank my usual morning coffee, I did not feel the effect it usually had. I did not feel any different. It did not have a taste. It simply existed. As the day wore on, I realized that I was not hungry for anything, nor did I experience the usual exhaustion that comes with the work environment I submerged myself in. When I returned home, I did not sleep. I didn't feel the need.\n\nThe day after, I saved a man. I was nowhere near, and there was no way I could have realistically gotten to him. The bus was moving too fast, and he was elderly. I simply willed the man to be moved off the street and he was instantly on the sidewalk, looking more than just confused. I wrote if off as simple exhaustion on my part (although I did not feel drained at all) and obviously must have thought the man was farther away from safety than he was. \n\nAs the week wore on, more and more things started to happen. Anything I wished became reality. I didn't realize my power until the fourth day, when I wished that I was the CEO of the corporation I was currently a doormat for. I turned on the television the next morning to see that the position had been vacated very suddenly, and they were currently conducting interviews. Without even applying, I was being offered the job. \n\nI only told one person, the only person in the world I could trust. My brother. Although, obviously I can no longer trust him. He was the one who went to the press in the first place. Anywhere I go now, people swarm around me. All I hear for hours on end is about people's problems. How they need me to help them with their lives. I wanted to help at first, and a few of my closer friends got their problems solved. For a moment. \n\nIf there is one thing that my experience has taught me, it is that there is no hope for the human race. Even the most responsible of people dig themselves the same grave over and over again, no matter what people do to help. Even if their problems disappear, they create them again (if only in a different manner). \n\nSo that leads me here. Standing on the edge of my window, looking down from the big office that came with that CEO position. I see them below me, all reaching their hands up and hoping to...to....I don't even know anymore. My friends suddenly became needy and horrible to be around. My family only wanted me to grant them immortality. I did none of the favors anyone asked me after a while. I can't anymore. I can't do this. The constant begging for my help. It is all too much.\n\nAll I can do now is watch the ground come closer to me as I fall, and hope that the impact is enough for my existence to cease. ", "Since becoming all things I have grown a new perspective. Ultimate power is deceptive and vague. Humanity begs me to cure disease and end famine, but fails to see how a lack of obstacles will only cheapen their lifes. Reducing them to goldfish I feed for affection. \nI deal in thousands and millions of years not days and weeks, yet they fail to see how the woe of 10 years of war is merely a heart beat to me. \nI ended a war for oil giving infinite energy, but granted light speed travel, time travel and super weapons. They grew fat and lazy and polluted the earth. I hoped they would learn, but instead they asked me to now clean up the pollution and make obesity not happen.\nThey wont learn so I must no longer even try to teach.", "I pop open my Fanta. Delicious, as usual-- but disappointingly room temperature. I frown. Why is the Fanta always warm?\n\nOh, that's right-- I'm a god now. I can microwave Hot Pockets so hot that even I can't open them. I chill the Fanta with a thought. I settle back in my armchair and put my feet on the ottoman. I leave my shoes on, because I am a god now. I take a sip of my Fanta.\n\nIce, Ice Baby plays as I take another refreshing sip. I reach around for the remote, and click on the TV. Another Desperate Housewives re-run... Oh well. Better than nothing. I nibble some cold pizza as I watch. I could heat it up. But, no, I like cold pizza.\n\nAt the commercial break, a news crew comes on. \"Interview with god's girlfriend, coming up at seven,\" a man says. They cut to my girlfriend, who is standing outside my apartment, apparently. Ex-girlfriend, now-- I pick up my phone and text her a quick 'we're over.' I don't date snitches. I told her not to talk to the press.\n\nThe din of the crowd outside cheering my name and trying to worship me grows. Maybe they heard her phone beep. A message from their immortal God! Jesus. I turn the volume of the TV back up, and take another nibble of pizza.", "Figures someone such as myself would end up with powers no man could ever dream of. I had power, and lots of it. I'm sure that I could do anything I wanted, if I wanted it. The only outrageous thing I've done so far is to resurrect people at funerals. The faces people make when the casket begins to shake, or the person just sits up.. hilarious. \n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nThe most useful thing has been to get a refill of my drink without moving from the couch, not to mention food from any part of the world.. Let's just say that ape-brain is overrated. Far overrated. \n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nSipping on my fire whiskey, cheers Harry Potter movies, I read through my mail. Fanmail. Ever since my little secret leaked out, everyone's been trying to get in touch with me. Bring my loved ones back to me, they say. Or, preform magic tricks at our show, some others say. Cure cancer, cure this disease, make me skinny, make me able to eat everything without getting fat.. I sometimes give in to their requests, if they're crazy enough. One guy wanted to be able to walk through objects. Last I heard, he accidentally sneezed himself stuck into the pavement. Had to amputate a leg or two, with the molecules all blended together. Tough tits. \n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nI tried being good in the beginning. Really. I cured a few people of diseases, and the kid with the shitty parents across the street magically found himself in a better family. Heck, I helped repair whole neighborhoods after a tornado struck the coast. The novelty wore off pretty quickly though. People I disliked coming to me, claiming we were life-long buddies.. Yeah. \n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n( One person found himself very rich.. Until he mysteriously died. ) \n\n\n\n\n\n\nYeah. I don't know. With this power I could do anything. Honestly. I could help anyone. It's such a shame I dislike people. I've been alone for thirty something years, and I'm not about to become the most popular person in the world. Fuck that. I'll spend my days here, with my endless refills, occasionally doing something with my powers when I get bored enough.", "\"I am the new God!\" I proclaimed, bursting out of my bedroom. \n\nThree curious pairs of eyes looked at me. One was red, one was surprised, and the third was doubtful. \n\n\"Again?\" asked the owner of the third, a mild hint of exasperation in his voice. \"Didn't we go through this last week?\"\n\nThe other two pairs of eyes were, true to their name, eyeing me. \n\n\"No,\" I said, a little crestfallen at Dave's reaction. \"I mean it this time. I really am God.\" I tried to draw myself to my full height, a tricky thing to do while in a wheelchair. \"Seriously,\" I said, quite seriously.\n\nThe sigh that came was definitely of exasperation this time, maybe even a little pity. \"Sure.\" said Dave, and checked his phone.\n\nSofia rubbed her red eyes and sniffed. She tried to manage a smile. \"That's great,\" she said, her voice trembling. She was clearly holding back tears. \"I hope you make it this time.\"\n\n\"Make it? I'm already there!\" I cried. \"I'm already there? I'm the big guy, the great Kazoo, the new face of wrath/rage!\"\n\nRob nodded. \"Sure.\" He scratched his head, muscles rippling.\n\nI sighed, clenched my head and thought of a way to convince them. \n\nOkay, I thought. I am God. Okay, now what. What could I possibly do that would get them to believe me? Make something float? Yeah, that's it. That would probably do it. \n\nBut what? I peered around the room. It was small but sparse, sure, I mean none of us had much time or money. Dave's laptop was on, probably filtering though a few unlisted servers and inserting lolcat photos into important documents at random. The TV was on, paused during a scene 'Titanic', the movie Rob and Sofia had seen on their first date. And their first kiss together. And so on and so forth. There was very little of my own stuff about the place, with the exception of a couple of Ultraphysics magazines and a set of beakers with algae growing in them, and the thirty-six inch poster of Albert Einstein. What to move?\n\nFinally my eye settled on a vase. It was yellow, small and decorated with a twisting flower pattern of marigolds. Perfect. I concentrated my willpower and with enormous ease shifted it about one foot to the left, off the counter and suspended in thin air. \n\nA triumphant smile flashed on my face, and I turned back to the three pairs of eyes, which were still gazing at me intently, and not on the vase. \"If you'll look closely, you'll see that something is different.\"\n\n\"Yeah,\" said Dave, puzzled. \"You're not wearing your glasses. So?\"\n\n\"No,\" I said impatiently. \"I mean with the room.\" They looked at me weirdly. \"Just turn around.\" I sighed.\n\n\"Turn around?\" asked Dave, turning around, hitting the vase with his arm and sending it spinning to the ground, where it broke. \n\nSofia turned to him angrily. \"Why did you do that?!\"\n\n\"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to break it!\" he yelled back.\n\n\"You said the same thing about the picture-frame from my mom!\"\n\n\"Look, for the last time, I'm sorry!\" Rob said. \"It's not my fault, it was an accident.\"\n\n\"Seems surprising the number of accidents that happen around things my mom send me,\" Sofia hissed venemously. \n\n\"You didn't even like the vase.\" argued Rob. \"You said it reminded you too much of that Cobby thing.\"\n\n\"Cobain!\" Sofia shouted, sounding hurt that he couldn't remember.\n\n\"Look, I...\" started Rob, but Dave cut him off. \n\n\"Guys, don't start again, let it be.\" he said, eyes shifting back and forth between Rob and Sofia, but especially on Sofia. He did that a lot. Another thing he did a lot was run his hands through his greasy hair, which, despite our pestering, he refused to wash. \"Just forget it, I'm sure it was an accident. Sof, don't get mad. Your nose becomes all blocked after a while when you cry, remember? So if you want to shout it won't be any good.\" \n\nIn all the commotion, my announcement had been completely forgotten, which I pointed out. \n\n\"Yes,\" said Dave testily, as if I had interrupted him in the middle of brain surgery. \"We know you don't like to be forgotten.\"\n\n\"It's not that I don't like to be forgotten,\" I said quickly. \"It's just that I'm sort of God now, and it's a big deal.\" Which you idiots fail to realize., I thought.\n\nRob looked at me strangely. \"Look mate,\" he began. \"I don't mean to be rude...\"\n\n\"Never stopped you before,\" muttered Sofia.\n\n\"...but why the fuck do you think you're God?\"\n\n\"Because I am,\" I said insisted. Good God, (good me?, I wondered), these people were thick. Why didn't they recognize it? Didn't they see my aura? Couldn't they feel the brimming power that I held in my force of will? \n\n\"Apparently not...\" said Sofia. \n\"Aparrotly,\" responded Dave quickly. Sofia smiled at their inside joke. \"All I'm saying is, I don't exactly see a halo.\"\n\n\"Well, that's because...\" I started, but Dave interrupted me. I shot him an ugly look. He was doing that a lot. I angrily made a mental note to smite him later.\n\n\"Look, are we going or what?\" he said, checking his phone again and adjusting his glasses. \"It's getting late, and Ray's doesn't stay open forever.\"\n\n\"Yeah, let's go.\" said Rob, standing up. \"I'm really hungry.\"\n\n\"There's some food left from lunch,\" said Sofia, sniffing. \"You liked the squid spaghetti I made, right?\"\n\n\"Baby you know I love it,\" said Rob hastily, not looking at her. \"But I just think that if we open it up I'll eat all of it, and then the guys won't have any left.\" \n\nWith that, he grabbed the keys to his car and walked out, trying to look like he wasn't moving too fast. \n\nDave patted Sofia on the shoulder. \"Don't worry, I liked it. I thought it was cool, what you did with the peanut butter.\"\n\nSofia beamed. \"Really?\" \n\n\"Yeah,\" he said, forcing a smile. \"Come on, let's go.\" \n\n\"Okay,\" said Sofia, wiping her eyes with her hands. \n\nI just stood, or rather sat, there, dumbfounded. Dave picked up his scarf and was about to follow Sofia out the door when he said: \"You coming, Metalman?\" \n\nI didn't respond.\n\n\"Hey, didja hear me? Are you okay?\" Dave's voice was concerned, reminding me that out of the three people in the apartment, he was my best friend. Which - considering my newfound status - I found incredibly depressing.\n\nDave was still staring at me. \"Yeah,\" I sighed, rubbing my temples, which I was surprised to find were aching and filled with a strange buzzing, as if there were a billion people whispering in my ears. It was disconcerting, and if it meant what I guessed it meant....I tried to push the thought away. \"Let's go get some pizza.\"\n\nIn the restaurant over pizza, Rob kept boasting about how he had managed to make every single green light during the journey.\n", "I've stopped going outside because I hate what I've become.\n\nThe powers came slowly and accumulated in the darkness that was my soul, bringing me light; I felt the grey murk wash away from my mind, and I was god.\n\nI saw the doctor at the first miracle, and upon the realization that I was god, I was ferried away to the labs and universities.\n\nI was always regarded by them as if I hadn't existed before my apotheosis, but I did. I had a life before I was god, but upon my deification, it was effaced for the light of miracles.\n\nI'm not a god. I'm a man.\n\nI wish they would see that. \n", "I sat on my porch and watched the sun go down, showering the sky with a multitude of formless colours. The beauty of the Earth, this rock we sit on, it's all that brings me joy anymore.\n\nI can remember the morning it happened, he was standing at the end of my bed. He told me about what I would become, a god, omniscient, omnipresent, incomparable and impossible wealth and knowledge at my finger tips. Who would turn that offer down, I ask you?\n\nSo I had my fun. I played around with the laws of physics to fuck with scientists, I ended and recreated the world innumerable times, I made cats chase dogs just because I could. Eventually, though, people caught on. They clamoured for my attention, their cries of worship following me, ever present. \n\nIt's not that I didn't care at the start, far from it! I tried to help everyone that I saw, I aimed to be the instrumental good that people saw in Gandhi, in MLK Jr. The problem was that it didn't help. \n\nPast, present, innumerable futures, I saw them all. Every single little detail of every single little life. What I did simply did not change anything. I saw myself becoming that change I wanted so badly, and people stayed the same. I saw myself becoming a horrid wretch, subjugating and terrorizing, and yet people stayed the same. \n\nEven with the power to alter the very fabric of reality, omniscience achieved, I couldn't continue the charade. It's not as if people stopped caring, if anything their caring intensified. No, I was the only one that lost that ability. \n\nAll humanity boils down to is a collection of particles reacting with one another. Nothing more, nothing less. My apathy was borne on the back of knowledge, carrying me into an existential void. I was god, I am god, I will continue to be god, and yet I don't care anymore.\n\nThe day I left, the cries were nearly deafening. Suicides abounded with shouts of agony, for I had abandoned them, leaving them to rot. Picture if you will everything you love in life, every teensy little bit that brings joy to you. Now imagine that it disappears, no word of warning. Now compound that to every living creature in the entire universe, and you understand what I did.\n\nI was their everything. They lived for me and me alone. I was their crutch, their sole support in this uncaring blackness, and now, I am no more.\n\nCan an immortal god end their own existence? I intend to try, for it is the one thing I haven't done yet.", "You know, it's funny. I was born a nobody and worked my way up. I've seen the beauty that is life. I can appreciate even the smallest things in life. And now, that I have been chosen as god's replacement, life seems even larger than usual. I feel small. The universe is massive. Did you know there's a planet where the average lifespan is about four earth-minutes? But their inventions far surpass ours. And at the center of the milky way, there actually is a milky way bar. It appears my predecessor had a sense of humor.\n\nAnd here I am, a literal god among men. Going the the people asking them if they'd want to see the outer realms of reality, and yet... I get no response. It's as if all people are concerned with is themselves. I am offering limitless knowledge. I can show them things they could never have even dreamed of.\n\nNothing. I have such immense power yet no one gives a hoot. Without even a blink of my eye I could transform their entire lives. See that child over there? Bam. Dead. Or the \"richest\" man in the world? I could bankrupt him faster than you could say the great depression. But why limit myself? I could destroy and recreate the entire universe if I wanted to? I could murder everyone and create exact replicas of the beings I killed. It would be like nothing ever happened, and no one would have to know.\n\nBut I would. I know everything. I can appreciate the power that I have been given. And if these fools cannot realize what I can do for them, may it is time. A new universe is in order...", "Begging, bargaining, pleading with me every day. They hunt me, pursue me, terrorize me every fucking day.\n\nFor what? To prolong their lives? To give them prosperity? To solve whatever small problem they believe I have beset upon them?\n\nI haven't left my apartment in days. No food. No sleep. No needs. \n\nThey still remain at the door of my building, harassing my doorman, praying to him and to me for entrance to absolution.\n\nI could heal them. I could save them. I could fix them. Not just the ones who shamelessly cry out my name like sick dogs, but all of them. \n\nI won't, but I could. \n\nMy name is repeated with solemn reverence, shaken by the tears that accompany it. \n\nOh, I could save them. I know I could; I used to. \n\nAnd for what? To postpone the date of their inevitable deaths? To give them money so they can waste once more into poverty? To solve whatever small problem they beset upon themselves?\n\nI won't leave my apartment to help them. I need no food, no sleep, nothing. I can outlast them. " ]	15
Feel free to write about anything. Did you get up early each year to watch the Macy's parade? Did you always eat steak instead of turkey? Did your family always travel to your cousin's house to endure yet another miserable holiday with Aunt Francis, who admittedly made the best pumpkin pie ever? You can also write about a tradition that's still ongoing. Have fun writing, and have a happy Thanksgiving!	[WP] Thanksgiving is tomorrow! Write about one of your favorite Thanksgiving experiences or traditions.	[ "I have a very traditional family. Women cook. Men watch TV. That's the way it has always been.\n\nExcept one part of the whole process. Carving the turkey is and will always be the job of my grandpa. Grandpa makes a big show of getting out his electric knife and slicing into the bird while it is still hidden away from everyone's eyes. It's his little secret ritual.\n\nSo when I was younger, my grandpa invited me to come hold the plate for him. Me. Not the oldest granchild. Me. So I proudly held the plate and grandpa put every bit of turkey on it that would fit. We even sneaked little bites \"to test it out and make sure it was good\". \n\nAnd every year after that, my grandpa and I would trek back to the room where the turkey was being cooked and cut it together, sneaking little bits and laughing at the rest of the family who always sat waiting for us to bring it all in to them.\n\nA couple of years ago my grandma was diagnosed with Alzheimer's, so she can no longer cook holiday meals. So I took on the task. I make everything the same way she did. Everything is always perfect. The first year I cooked, I put the turkey in a back room while it cooked and when it came time to cut the turkey I handed off the rest of the cooking to my mom while I went back with grandpa to cut it. He was thrilled that I had set it up the same way and we could continue the tradition.\n\nAfter I got married, I asked my grandpa if my husband could cut the turkey with him. He happily allowed my husband to join him instead of me. I told my grandpa that I know one day he won't be able to cut the turkey with us and I want that tradition to continue on. The next year, grandpa gave up the reins of cutting the turkey and instead let my husband cut it while he held the plate.\n\nIt seems like such a small tradition to be passed on. Who gets to cut the turkey and sneak bites shouldn't be as big of a deal as it is. But knowing that my grandpa, my husband, and my future kids will continue this tradition makes all of the cooking and hours spent pouring over the meal perfect. ", "As the family legend goes, during the Great Depression, a good turkey was expensive, but sausage was dirt cheap. So my great-grandmother, living in Queens, NY, would purchase a smaller, poor quality turkey, and before cooking it, would coat every inch of the surface in sausage links. This would cause the sausages to drain into the turkey while it cooked, improving its taste and moisture level. This tradition went from my great-grandmother to my grandfather, and then to my parents.\n\nWhen the turkey comes out of the oven, it sits atop the stove to cool, and while the family prepares the last minute sides for the meal, they snack on the sausages, which remain affixed to the turkey with toothpicks, until it is time for the turkey to be carved.\n\nI am not going home for Thanksgiving this year, but this is the thing I will miss about the gathering.", "I have a very stereotypical Thanksgiving every year. My parents are separated, so I have the choice between going to my dad's family or mom's for the day. My dad's family have their flaws, but they are loving and inviting. But they're also an hour away. My mom's family is a totally different story. \nEvery year my mom's family meets at my grandparents, less than fifteen minutes from my house. They like to get there early so we can cook together, play games together, and be all together as a family. \nMy grandparents have 7 children, 6 son and daughter in laws, and eleven grandchildren. All of them except my aunt and uncle and their three kids, whom all live in China as missionaries, come to thanksgiving every year. Luckily it's a three story house, so it only gets mostly crowded. \nMy family members are excellent cooks. If they brought something to eat, it will most likely be delicious. So we get there early, cook and talk and play games and play with the grandchildren (I'm the oldest at nineteen) until dinner is ready. Then we all sit down at a very long table, say grace, and dig in. Towards the end of the night we hang out and play more games until everyone finally goes home, ten pounds heavier. \nMy family is the definition of perfect. I was born to my mother after she ran away and (honest to god) joined a carnival. I have always felt like I was a bit of a black sheep or not a pure bred because my dad is such an alcoholic asshole. All of my family is so athletic and gorgeous and intelligent, and I'm just a chubby kid who sleeps in too much. I've avoided going over for the past few months because I've fallen into depression and don't want them to be disappointed or annoyed with me. \nBut when the holidays come, I forget about where I came from and where I am. They don't stop making harmless jokes about me finding a job or not sleeping all the time, but for a brief time, I stop being so sensitive about it and just appreciate that I have such a big dependable family. I love holidays with my family because I know once they're gone, I will never be able to be part of a family so flawless as them. And if ever there was a right time to be appreciative of something, I'd say tomorrow would be it. \nHappy thanksgiving, Reddit.", "Our holidays are always looked forward to every year. They're always the time of year when everyone can forget the terrible things we've said to each other. We forget the fights we've had about nothing. And for at least a short time we can get over the way our bosses want to smash us like a pesky fly buzzing around their ear on a hot summer day. None of that matters on a day like Thanksgiving, somehow we're thankful for all that.\n\nTypically all the boys and men will decide to play football or basketball, really whatever the weather permits. We'll play until our legs burn and our lungs feel like they're ready to fall out of our chests. Meanwhile, grandpa is smoking the turkey with the sort of touch that no one can ever replicate. We'll remember that taste and no other turkey will ever measure up. Half the women are cooking away and the other half are chatting about their men. The girls always seem to disappear to the most secluded corner of the house to talk about boys and watch live concerts on television.\n\nWhen it's finally time to eat, we sit in order around the dining area. All year we've ate by ourselves away from the order of a dinner table. Grandpa announces that it is time for a prayer, we all bow our heads. The few of us that don't pray for personal reasons do it anyway. We love grandpa, those reasons don't matter right now. We begin to pass the food, politely taking our turns. Just a week ago a few of the children fought bitterly over the last corn dog. It's funny that we spend such a small amount of time in our lives being truly and openly thankful for one another. Have you ever thought about how we schedule everything in our lives? Somehow we've managed to schedule one day of the year to be grateful for what we have. " ]	4
Side Note: your character is note a mine, simple gestures are welcome but don't have her playing pictionary.	[WP] Your character is the ghost of a recently deceased 22 year old girl. She's telling her lover the story of her death. She cannot speak, may not communicate through language to the story characters or to the audience. No cliches. Must be told from perspective that is not hers.	[ " > TRANSMISSION INCOMING\n\n > POCKET UNIVERSE CORRECTLY IDENTIFIED AS 0...3: DRAGON.\n\n > ENTRY 0...11. TITLE PROVIDED: GHOST. AUTHOR ID 0...5.\n\nAs I entered the room that night, dejected, I knew something was off. Was it the slightly moved lamp? It might have been. Perhaps it was the open doors that led out onto the balcony, blowing cold winter air into the building. The room was positively frigid.\n\nAs I moved to close the doors, another gust of air blew me onto my back. It threw me against the wall! Crack! The doors stayed open, and suddenly the area inside them started to glow.\n\nI knew all the signs, but I couldn't back away in time. A blinding white light surrounded me, and I fell unconscious for (I was later told) about half an hour. When I came to, the hotel room was strewn about, and you stood in the center of the room.\n\nI couldn't speak. I couldn't move. I had lost you...I lost you.\n\nI ran to you, but a gust of wind appeared as suddenly as I stood. So I sat.\n\nSuddenly the room around us changed. Now we stood just a few feet from where we were prior - on the balcony. This is where it happened.\n\nIt began to dawn on me what was really happening, but there was nothing I could do. Your ghost was still hating me, your soul still sought revenge. And you know what I did was for the best...for the best of this world. But I know that will never be enough.\n\nThe wind did not knock me over when I stood upright again, but I found I could not speak. Just as you couldn't speak. Just as you still cannot speak to me, even in death. Instead you...you are standing at the balcony, looking up at the stars, sipping a red wine. You always hated red wine, but I could not stand white wine.\n\nYou stand there, gorgeous in a ghostly gown, and I double over and cough. Blood streams from my mouth. Just like what happened to you.\n\nI cough and sputter all over the balcony. You rushed to my side, and you never say a word. You just hold me there, and stroke my hair gently even as you, too, begin to cough. Slowly, I close my eyes...\n\nI am awake now - was my experience a dream? But then, I remember what actually happened. I did not have the virus, but you did. You coughed over the side of the balcony, and I knew the signs. But - I did not save you. I did not cherish you. No, I feared for my own life.\n\nAnd now I relive the pain of what I did. A four story drop onto concrete. I - I pushed you off. I pushed you so that the virus would not reach me too, so that I would be safe. I did not comfort you and instead...instead I left you.\n\nBut now I realize that it was a mistake. I should have held you as you died. I should have never done what I did.\n\nI cough onto the blanket. A bloodstain materializes.\n\n > EOF", "He feels a tap in his shoulder, one that's all too familiar. He opens one of his eyes and see his girlfriend. \"Hey,\" he mutters. \"You're home early.\" She just smiles back at him. \n\nHe stands up from his bed and stretches. The digital clock flashes 12:06 in its display. \"I thought you were sleeping over with your buds.\" Again, no reply. He glances at her as he wears a shirt. She still holds that smile. Tonight, she wore her favorite casual outfit: a white blouse and jeans. She prances around the room and brushes her hands on the bed covers. The lamp. Her autographed poster of Foo Fighters. She parts the blinds and peek through them. The bright yellow of the street lamp enters the room through the tiny divide she created. Not once in doing all of this did her smile fade. \n\n\"Hey, you're acting kinda odd, Leah...\" He approaches her, Leah, but before he could react, she grabs his hands and pull him out of the door. Leah rushes through the stairs of the apartment, and pushes the screen door out. She walks up to the road, and sniffs the winter air, the smile still plastered to her face. \"T-t-the h-h-hell...\" He tries to find warmth in his clothes, but there's only so much a shirt and pajamas could do. \"W-w-why d-did y-you--\" Before he could finish the sentence, she pulls him again, this time through an alleyway. \n\nAs they emerge from the narrow alley, he could hear soft mewing to his left. It took him sometime to find the little kitten, trying to hide behind the bins. Leah tries to approach the kitten, but it hid further into the bins. Her smile never faltered though. He approaches the kitten, and slowly, the little cat climbed unto his hands, rubbing her face all over her palm. \"Is that what I think it is?\" Around her neck is a pink ribbon. Leah's favorite. He couldn't stop the smile emerging from his face. \"If you want, we could keep this cat. Just need some shots, some papers, and he's ours. What do you say?\" He glances at her, and although she's still grinning, her eyes were filled with sadness, regret, sorrow. \"Leah, what's wrong?\" He tries to touch her face but she swats it away. Instead, she stands up and pulls his hand again, carrying the little kitten close to his chest. \n\nLeah finally stops pulling him in front of a little pub. \"Hey, isn't this where you're supposed to hang out tonight?\" She nods, smiling, checking the windows of the pub. The place still looked lively, crowded with people all drinking and dancing. He wasn't really that kind of guy. Leah inspects the ground, until she jumps up, like she found something. She took the bottle and put it in his hands. It was too dark to read the small text in the label, but something caught his eye. \"Is this lipstick in the mouth of the bottle?\" He strains his eyes so he could make it out better. \"Rose pink. This is your lipstick, right?\" He looks up at her. \"So, this is your drink, then?\" Still no reply. She just kept smiling at him. He takes a swig from a bottle. The liquid burned his throat, and his head is spinning just from that swallow. \"Holy shit.\" He almost gags. \"This is some strong alcohol here. Don't drink this if you're gonna drive. Speaking of which, where's the car?\" She just kept on smiling, but her eyes were all watery now. She tries to hide her face from him but he noticed it. She stands up again, grabs his hand, and runs off to another direction. \n\nHe wasn't having of it anymore. He plants his feet on the sidewalk, stopping her run. Just around the corner, blue and red lights flash, and men were shouting to each other. \"Look, Leah, we need to talk.\" He grabs her by the shoulder and looks into her eyes. The stupid grin is still plastered on her face, but tears were now flowing on her cheeks. \"I have no idea what's going on. Why are you dragging me around town? Why do you keep showing me all of these things? Why were you home earlier? Where's your friends? Where's the car? Why--\" So many questions raced inside his head, but he is stopped by her index finger shushing him. He stops, and she leans forward, kissing him. Electricity traveled throughout his body, replacing all the cold with the warmth of this act of love. But the kiss somehow felt sadder. Like a goodbye kiss. \n\nShe then breaks away, smile still plastered on her face, eyes bloodshot, and runs around the corner. \"Hey, wait!\" He runs to follow her, but she is nowhere to be seen. \n\nInstead, all he sees is an accident. The sirens of the ambulance blared across the street, policemen were talking to people for witnesses. But what caught his eye is the red civic, the hood crumpled around a tree. \n\nHis red civic. \n\nHe ran as realization poured in. An accident occurred. Someone was driving drunk, and they hit a tree. He checks inside the window to see a corpse, with half her face melting off the skull. The other half, though, is still intact. Leah looked like she was only sleeping, a smile plastered on her face. " ]	2
I thought of this as a way to help me accept myself, and so far It has helped. so, write yourself out, listen to others, maybe make some connections to other people's.	[WP] vividly describe your character in third person.	[ "His face is a mirror and a sculpture and a painting that changes from every side. It's a study of planes, of light and darkness. The smooth angle of his cheekbones, the crag of a nose jutting forward. His pores are small, his skin without blemish. His eyes are sometimes the stormy grey of the heaving ocean, fathoms deep with undulating waves rushing towards the shore. Sometimes they are the lucent blue of autumnal skies, calm and clear and boundless. Often he pulls his hair back before he lets it free, tangled white-gold wings falling against his cheek. His mouth is gentle, his expression schooled, yet both laughter and anger burst from him without restraint. ", "She walked I with wet hair and a bad attitude, chewing gum, purple streaks in her hair, and with a group of guys who obviously accepted her as one of the group.\n\nOh? Wrong person. That's who she envies. She actually is the girl with glasses, at least some of the time, eyes that shift from grey to green blue, and a face that looks innocent and honest. Or at least she hopes so. She doesn't want to cross the line into startled rabbit, and she wishes she could dress in all rebelous sort of clothing and just see how people would treat her differently. Of course, she doesn't have the guts. What if she ran into someone she knew?\n\nShe definitely has the personality to pull it off, her face just hasn't caught up with her age. She comes from a late blooming family with a tendency to look like children. When she goes off to collage she tells herself, she will have fun. Free from social pressure, which she is both acutely aware of, and very terrified of. \n\nThis was very challenging, and I had to do some real soul searching to do this. Thanks for the great prompt." ]	2
	[WP] A man believes that every small little thing that happens to him is actually an analogy for his life.	[ "This is Tom. Tom woke up hours ago, like he was supposed to, when his alarm clock went off. Tom then turned off his alarm and laid in bed, staring at the ceiling, for hours. It is now noon, and Tom is narrating his own life in his own head.\n\nThis is Tom. Pathetic.\n\nUnfortunately, Tom can't get out of bed. Not yet. Tom's wife has just awoken, and Tom has to continue lying here until she steps in the shower. Otherwise she'd know how late he'd slept in. So instead, Tom will lay in bed for however long it takes her to shower, dress, and go eat. That way she'll have no clue what time he woke up. Genius.\n\nBut that's fucking Tom for you. You'd think that, as a grown ass man, he'd be able to handle simple problems like getting out of bed. Nope, that would require good decision making, and Tom doesn't realize the right thing to do until he's already done the wrong thing. That's why Tom failed out of college. That's why Tom is living in a shitty apartment. That's why Tom can't provide for his wife. That's why Tom has to hide what time he wakes up from the woman he married. Way to go Tom.\n\nThe rush of water stops. Tom's wife goes downstairs. Tom finally sits up in bed. Tom's wife probably wouldn't care that he woke up at noon, she did as well, it's a Saturday. Tom wasted half the day. If he doesn't stop sitting uselessly in bed, he'll waste the rest of it. He'll probably waste it anyway.\n\nTom wasted a lot of things. He wasted his entire childhood, investing most of it acquiring good grades and getting into a good school so he could lie in bed instead of going to class. He wasted the rest of his childhood playing stupid games, not because he enjoyed them, but because he had a ton of free time he had to fill. It's not like he had classwork to do. How much tuition money did he waste? Way to go Tom.\n\nTom makes an attempt to finally get out of bed, but winds up just lying down again. Incredible. It would appear he has become paralyzed with the irrational fear that he will be judged upon finally waking. Maybe he can just sleep all day and try again tomorrow. Sleeping is probably Tom's favorite thing to do.\n\nSee, what Tom needs isn't will, or self-confidence, or any of that. Tom is a selfish prick. His obsession with being right sabotages every relationship he's ever had, and will probably wreck his marriage. Tom needs a time machine. Tom is so terrified of failure that even one mistake and he gives up. He still hasn't gotten over giving up after he screwed up his first semester. Tom still wants a do over for the last ten years. But not the kind of do over you earn. Tom wants a miracle. Tom wants this without having to get out of bed. And it's not going to happen. Tom is never going to get what he wants. Tom has no one to blame but himself, and no one can help him. It's too late.\n\nTom is crying now. Only now, when he's alone with his mind, can he truly express what it is he feels is wrong with his life. If and when finally goes into the kitchen, he won't be able to explain his feelings. Tom is melodramatic. Tom has no right to be complaining, he just wants to feel sorry for himself. This whole narrating his own life thing is probably just an attempt to be insane, because being insane would justify his life. Tom wanted to do something amazing with his life, despite the odds, and he's so fucked up he'd rather the odds were harder and he had the same life than he actually made something of himself. People who are actually insane would be justifiably disgusted with Tom's thoughts, that's why he never shares them. He's just a melodramatic idiot who can't escape his own head.\n\nOr is he really crazy? Is it too unreasonable to think he's depressed. He did spend all morning lying in bed. If he died in his sleep he wouldn't mind. In fact he'd prefer it. He was crying a couple of minutes ago. Why does he hide this from the world? Why doesn't he get help? Why is he so afraid of change? Maybe if he tried to get help he wouldn't fuck it up. Maybe he isn't a complete fuck up.\n\nTom is tired of thinking about it. Untangling his own thoughts is exhausting. His psyche is a miserable whirlwind of unjustified complaints and self hatred. When he isn't alone anymore, he'll be okay. When he's too distracted to think, he'll be okay.\n\nTom stands up off the bed. He'll be okay.\n\nOne day at a time, Tom. He's made it this far, right?", "People have different capacities of belief; this is a fact. Compared to the, say, water balloon, of the average peron, Tom would be a sixteen-wheeled tank. He loved reading the horoscopes. He also believed in eight different kinds of feng shui, two of which conflicted on basic principles (but this never bothered him) three kinds of astrology and a particularly small but devout cult of Zoroastrian extremists who believed semen was an essential life fluid that should never be wasted. Ever.\n\nTom woke up today to find his coffee pot already brewing. In this he saw his own life, beans being extruded, distilled of their essence via the scalding heat of life and filtered through the eight different kinds of feng shui he knew into something he could swallow. Of course that wasn't the only portent of the day, oh no. The second thing to happen to him was when the door shut on his coat, temporarily snagging him in place outside his apartment. To him that symbolized life's internal struggles and obstacles holding him back, particularly when he did not expect it. It was what his horoscope had predicted, after all, word for word.\n\nBut that wasn't the biggest sign of all for Tom today, nor was it the most difficult for him to interpret. No, that would have been the car smashing into him at the crosswalk of 89th and 103rd. Ironic, really. Because throughout all the portents, signs, and prophecies that guided his life, this was the only one that was equally obvious to everyone else watching. \n\n" ]	2
	[WP] Dinner party guests realize they can hear each other's thoughts, but only while seated at the table.	[ "\n\"Oh, darling. Don't sit there,\" the Captain singsonged down from the dais as if unveiling a wonderful surprise. \"Sit up here with me!\"\n\nThe hall broke out in cheers and laughter as the lieutenants rushed down the aisle to the back of the room. A porter caught her arm just as she was about to sit in the chair that her brother had pulled out for her at their family's table. Her brother stiffened at the porter's unexpected arrival and to make matters worse, actually stepped politely out of the way. He tried to salvage the gesture too late with a half-lazy grin and making what looked like a sideways bow to the porter. The hall erupted again in laughter. Wildly, she tried to figure out if they were laughing at her brother, or at what they thought was his clever joke. Then she got ahold of herself. Her family had bigger problems than her brother's reputation if she was being called to the Captain's table.\n\nAs she walked up the aisle, she could feel the closeness of the lieutenants around her. Her spine gave a small shiver and then her whole body began trembling. She was panicking almost to the point of no return, but in the back of her mind she could hear herself trying to calm down. That focused her. Soon everyone in the room would be able to hear that voice too. \n\nPeople in the hall were starting to clap, getting excited, starting to shout. Automatically, she gave them a good-natured smile, and when she did this her perspective shifted. A voraciousness appeared within her that she'd never before acknowledged. She could think anything! Tell them anything! Deep space demands social precision. The feeling of being free after always being careful with every word, every glance, every thought was so overwhelming that by the time she had shaken hands with the Captain and sat down at the simple metal table she was giddy.\n\nWhen the speakers began broadcasting her voice, it sounded strange and not at all like the one she heard inside her head, but it spoke her words. It began, as many did, with memories of the others who'd been called to the Captain's table. She remembered Marta's obscenities and Tam's quiet secrets. She remembered crying for a week after Remat's ambitions poured out of the speakers to the shock of everyone. He'd always seemed so shy. The community in the hall nodded, remembering along with her. She spoke of her own private impulses. There had been a secret hollow in her thoughts that was hers alone and now it flooded out. She spoke on and on and they listened carefully. She didn't blame them; she was them. Of course, the evidence was overwhelming, it always was. They had heard enough to execute her before the dessert course.", "James frozen in his sight, “You are the only one I’ve ever loved”. \n\n\nEven though they were only lovers, the young mans eyes gazed at a short black hair, brown-eyed beauty sitting across from him. Covering her small frame a long-sleeved black and white shirt. An infinity scarf accentuated her powerful and charming beauty. The light in the room shined on revived dreams and peaceful glances. The girl leaned forward and crossed her arms on the table. \n\n\n “I know” she thought. Her head was bowed, as if in shyness or shame. \n\n\nThey could hear each others thoughts. \n\n\n“I want to feel you scream again”, James entertained memories in his mind as he looked at her nervously. He looked at her, as if pleading for her to share the same thoughts. The look of desire flashed in his eyes.\n\n\nMaureen, now sitting back on her chair, looked away as she didn’t want to command any unnecessary attention. Pulling out her cell phone, she fumbled through some of the pictures on her phone. She anguished in the realization of a former lover sitting across the table. Looking to her left, smiles and conversations filled the dining room. Sitting at the table, soft voices filled the atmosphere. The crowd timidly ate from their places trying not to notice the charmed conversation. \n\n\nA sudden thump on the back of her chair drove her away from sweetened thoughts. Her round eyes drifted towards a man standing above her, “Do you have my keys?” \n\n\n“Umm yes sweetheart- right here” she replied. \n\n\nMaureen finished chewing a salsa filled chip. Drinking from her wine-filled cup, “I won’t leave you this time” she pondered and pleaded from behind her eyes. \n\n\n“I know” James eyes glistened, a face filled with compassion and undying love.\n\n\nThey sat at the table and looked into each other eyes. Maureen was looking for answers and James saw the answer he waited for. James saw his treasure. Thinking of her made the nights bearable. Without ever being married, he shared wonderful memories and then it was gone. Thoughts of her saved him. He smiled. \n\n\nMaureen sighed and pondered “Memories… memories… walking in the rain, holding hands… kissing.” \n\n\nJames looked at her eyes. He took her by his eyes, to an area known but to them. They shared a moment of brilliance and romance. On the Detroit River, an area known for falling maple leafs and acorns on the ground. Two lovers reunited for a recollection of perfection. \n\n\nMaureen stiffened, “James, I’ll know-” but she was interrupted. Before she was done with her thoughts, the unknown man returned, “I think we should go now.” She opened her purse, dropped some contents in her bag and pushed her chair back. She breathed in as she walked away from the dining room table. The boots she wore made clopping sounds as she walked towards the door. \n\n\nJames pulsed quickened. He heard muffled sounds and voices across the room. The air around him thickened and his fingers fumbled through the table. Across the table, an elderly man speaks “In a heartbeat she will return with you. She will. Her thoughts can be heard across the room.” \n\n\nJames stared at the empty chair. \n\n \n", "If there’s one thing Howe’s good at, Oliver Sutton thought as he passed through the heavy oak doors and into the main hall, it’s putting on a damn good show.\n\nHarold W. Howe made it his business to throw the most extravagant parties in all of Oxfordshire. A retiree of the Royal Navy, the distinguished admiral retreated from the thrills of the high seas to his mansion in Chesterton in search of a different sort of command. In three months, news of his fantastical engagements swept the verdant countryside; in six, people flocked to Chesterton in droves, hoping to gain entry to one of Howe’s now-legendary parties.\n\nFortunately for Oliver Sutton, this was a special occasion, and the banker was among the honored guests.\n\n“Sutton! Good to see you, m’boy! Glad you could make it!” The admiral greeted Oliver with a warm double-palm handshake and a jubilant smile. “I trust the trip was kind to you?”\n\n“Oh yes, not a cloud in the sky for miles,” Oliver replied, returning the gesture in earnest. “How have you been?”\n\n“Been where?” The admiral’s ample sides rippled with laughter at his own joke. Gets him every time, Oliver marveled. I doubt anyone else finds themselves so consistently amusing.\n\n“Well, now that everyone’s here,” Howe said after the pun had run its course, “let the feast begin!” He gestured to the servants, and one graciously took Oliver’s overcoat while the other led him to his seat.\n\nThe banquet table was easily the most impressive piece of woodwork Oliver had ever seen. Even at a distance, the candlelight danced upon the intricate patterns and weaved between the intertwining leaves. If the banker had lacked a proper head on his shoulders, he might have been convinced the table was alive. But his twenty-seven years of vaulted sensibility took hold and he thought no more of the matter, instead taking his place between two well-dressed gentlemen.\n\nThe feast was everything the admiral had promised and more. Between courses, Oliver introduced himself to the man on his left, a curiously clean-shaven fellow by the name of Arthur Brooke. The curious part, of course, was not his smooth complexion – many men have little time and even less patience for the grooming process – but the enormous gold monocle that bulged out from his right eye like the back end of an African black beetle.\n\nWell, that’s certainly one way to keep up appearances, Oliver thought, around the time Arthur Brooke leaned a bit too far over his bowl and the giant eyepiece decided to go for a dip in its master’s soup. Pity you’ll never get the gold to shine as brightly again.\n\n“I should hope so, sir,” the man snapped, visibly flustered as he attempted to dry the soggy monocle with his handkerchief. “And next time, perhaps you should think before you speak.”\n\nBut Oliver Sutton had not uttered a word.\n\nSomething strange is going on.\n\n“That’s quite apparent, thank you very much. I just had the damn thing sized.”\n\nOliver stared at Arthur Brooke. Can you hear me?\n\n“What kind of a question is that? I’m right next to you,” the curious man replied, still focused on drying his most prized ocular possession. Must be part deaf.\n\nOliver shook his head in disbelief. Arthur Brooke’s mouth had not moved for the last part, he was sure of that much. As the banker sat there, puzzling over the problem at hand, the table conversations melted into the background, replaced by the most bizarre assortment of comments imaginable:\n\nNo, I happen to think your smoking habit is NOT welcome at the dinner table.\n\nA summer home? Please, you could barely afford the cheap suit you’re wearing.\n\nI’ve never seen such a dreadfully boring bunch in all my life!\n\nOliver tried to steady himself as the room began to spin around him. “Will you excuse me for a moment?” he managed to mutter in Arthur Brooke’s direction as he rose from the table. And without so much as a reason for doing so, he bolted from the hall. It was not until he paused at the grand staircase to catch his breath that Oliver noticed.\n\nThe voices had stopped.\n\nHe could still hear the strains of conversation trailing from the banquet hall, but none of them sounded the least bit hostile, rude, or crass. Am I going mad, he thought, to think what I heard was real? But it was real; Arthur Brooke’s speechless speech had proved it.\n\nThere was only one way to be sure: he had to go back. The thought terrified Oliver Sutton, but not as much as the prospect of being a complete lunatic – a condition that was certainly not tolerated in his line of work. The manager of Lloyds Bank would be very put out if he found a madman crunching the numbers of an entire nation. Very put out indeed.\n\nOliver returned to his seat, apologizing profusely to the guests – “I don’t know what came over me, forgive my rudeness” – as he went, all the while listening intently. It was not until he sat down at the table that, with a rush of rude wind, the voices returned.\n\nI can hear other people’s thoughts.\n\nArthur Brooke turned to Oliver, confusion in his eyes. “Sorry?”\n\n“Oh, it’s nothing. Just talking to myself.” Or thinking.\n\n“Or thinking what?”\n\n“Never mind.”\n\nThe curious man shrugged and turned his golden gaze back to the superbly bearded gentleman to his left.\n\nOliver spent the rest of the meal figuring out how he had acquired this newfound ability. After a few more placement tests, he concluded the only reasonable explanation was the banquet table. I knew there was something odd about it, he thought, drawing more than a few awkward stares from across the intricate expanse.\n\nAnd suddenly, it came to him: a plan so perfect, so absolutely without flaw, that he practically jumped from his seat and shouted it to the world. This table, this mind-reading marvel, could make him a fortune! With the right crowd, Oliver reasoned, he could set up any number of card games and walk away with all of their money in his finely tailored pockets. If he could hear his opponents’ thoughts, there was no way he could lose! The possibilities were endless!\n\nThere was just the small matter of the table itself. Which was, of course, no small matter at all. Oliver thought straight through dessert, hardly touching his custard tart until he stumbled upon the answer. He had friends in the area that could do the dirty work – the kind that would not think twice if a sizable donation inexplicably appeared in their accounts overnight. All Oliver had to do was open the door and the deal was sealed.\n\n“Sutton, m’boy, you look absolutely dreadful!” The look of concern on Howe’s face was genuine. “What’s happened?”\n\nOliver forced a grimace, playing to the admiral’s sensibilities. “Something must not have agreed with me, I’m afraid. It’ll be a horribly uncomfortable trip back, but I’ll manage.”\n\n“Nonsense! The weather’s downright awful; storms all over the place. You’re staying here tonight as my guest, and I’ll hear no more on the subject.”\n\nThe banker shook Howe’s hand with gratitude, thanking him for being such a generous host and an honorable man. If only you knew how I’m going to steal your marvelous banquet table from right under your seafaring nose, old man, you’d change your tune.\n\nThe admiral chuckled.\n\nThe next morning, police cars swarmed the mansion of Harold W. Howe. Detectives searched high and low as the tearful admiral gave his statement for the record, how one of his servants had found the evidence as he started his daily routine. “A tragedy!” he wailed, “such a terrible loss!”\n\nAfter he calmed down, he showed them to the banquet hall, where the coroner was just finishing up with the body of Oliver Sutton. They sat around the intricate table, its wooden magnificence glowing in the morning sunlight, and Howe regaled them with tales of the previous night.\n\nPerhaps it was his jovial nature – or, more likely, the surprise gifts he bestowed upon the fine officers – that swayed them to abandon their investigation. They certainly did not find the two empty shell casings from the admiral’s gun, and Oliver Sutton’s autopsy report came and went without so much as a mention of the pair of bullet holes in the banker’s back.\n\nIf there was one thing Howe was good at, it was putting on a damn good show.\n\n-016", "It was instant. Far more instant than what Mr Sheffield had expected. It was a sudden influx of thoughts, ideas, hopes, aspirations and fears...which is what you'd expect from this particular table. He saw it on the faces of the other guests, they would have all been informed of their hosts choice in furniture but it is hard to comfort oneself with an intrusion of the mind armed only with a safety briefing. Mind invading tendencies aside, it was an impressive table. At least five meters long, carved from a mighty oak tree, it sat all the dignitaries present with space to spare, but it brought them all so much closer. Sheffield sensed the uneasiness of both the guests and there respective security details, but he was thankful that there was yet to be a gun drawn, as those tend to complicate peaceful negotiations, especially those over dinner. ", "Jenny readjusts the plastic tea kettle, smiles, and asks, \"Anymore tea, Mr. Wiggles?\" She is seated around a small piece of lawn furniture with all her toys.\n\nThe little teddy bear sits, staring into space. \n\n\"Oh, of course, I forgot about your health problems,\" she says as she reaches over and kisses the stuffed animal. \"No hot drinks for you!\"\n\n\"Oh, what's that Mrs. Pig, more cookies?\" she says as she shoves a cookie into the mouth of another stuffed animal. \"Eat up, you're looking thin. Thin like mommy!\"\n\n\"What about you Mr. Silly,\" she says to a rabbit. \"You look thin too!\" She picks him up and gives him a good shake. \"Here's have a sandwich.\" She feeds him an invisible sandwich.\n\nThe dinner party is broken up with a shout from the house. \"Dad, I'm here! In the backyard,\" replies Jenny. More shouts. \"Okay, I'll be right up.\"\n\nAs Jenny enters, she gets picked up by her dad, who gives her a kiss on her forehead. He puts her down and starts putting on her coat. \"Where are your boots,\" he asks as he turns around. Jenny sneakily looks around and starts stuffing her coat pockets with cookies. \n\n\"Oh, here they are,\" he yells from the other room. \"Honey, button up your coat,\" he adds. \"Its cold.\"\n\nAs he helps her button up her coat she bites her lip and looks into her dad's brown eyes. \"Do you think mommy will have cookies to eat?\"\n\nDad pauses for a moment then goes back to the last button on her coat. He pulls her hood over her head, pinches her nose for a moment, and says, \"I don't know what the hospital is serving her tonight. We'll see I guess.\"\n\nJenny feels the cookies in her pockets, smiles, and says, \"Okay. Don't worry dad. Mom will be okay.\"\n\nDad gulps down, inhales deeply, picks her up, and gives her a big hug as he slowly exhales. \"Of course she will,\" he adds as they walk to the car. \"Of course she will.\"", "Dave slunk halfway into the chair, scowling as he pulled out his phone. \n\nGod, I don't wanna be here.\n\nDave nodded along as though agreeing with himself. He checked his Facebook and Instagram, humming to drown out the sea of conversation floating in from the kitchen. A quick glance up. He locked eyes with Larry at the end of the table. The old man's mouth was a tight, wrinkled line, but he tipped his hat and swirled his mostly-empty snifter. \n\nThis guy gets it, thought Dave. Larry raised a wiry eyebrow. He shot a glance into the kitchen then back at Dave before standing up and walking to the bar. \n\nCheryl whisked into the dining room and plopped a steaming, brown-green monstrosity in front of Dave. \"Green bean casserole,\" she announced. \"Your favorite.\" She gave him a weak squeeze on the shoulder before dropping her hand onto the back of his chair. \n\nDave eyed the dish warily. Great, boredom with a side of food poisoning.\n\nCheryl scoffed and threw her hands up. \"Would it kill you to say something nice once in awhile?\" \n\n\"I didn't...\" but she was gone, the kitchen door swinging in her wake. \n\nLarry returned to the table, his glass full of liquid amber. He sat down, grunting as he adjusted his big belly. Dave surveyed him beyond his phone's line of sight, occasionally checking his Tumblr and news feed. So glad I'm not old.\n\n\"Treasure it,\" Larry said and lifted his glass. \"Youth don't last forever.\" \n\n\"Sorry?\" Dave asked. \"You talking to me?\" Geriatric. Probably fought in a war or something.\n\nLarry frowned. \"Korea, to be exact. You studying ventriloquism or something?\" Damn kids, checkin' their phones. Probably has one of the ADDs or that ass-burgers, shit. Fuckin' young blowhards.\n\nDave's mouth dropped open. \"What did you - ?\"\n\nLittle Trinity ran in from the living room, wearing her blue tutu and carrying a calico. The cat gave Dave a withering stare. \n\n\"This is Olive!\" Trinity announced, her blonde pigtails bobbing as she dropped Olive onto the chair next to Dave. She climbed up herself. Olive olive olive. Where's Blue's Clues? Olive olive. Play with kitty. Gonna dance, kitty dance.\n\nDave and Larry exchanged a look of disbelief. \n\nOlive jumped onto the table and meowed. Hungry, food. Hungry hungry. Eat.\n\nTrinity laughed and climbed off her chair. \"Olive wants fooood!\" She ran into the kitchen. \n\nLarry took a drink. What in the fuck is going on?\n\n\"No idea,\" Dave offered. He checked Google news, his latest Twitter update. How does this guy have more followers than me?\n\n\"I ain't followin' you nowhere,\" Larry growled. \"How in the hell are you doing that?\" \n\nThe kitchen door burst open. Cheryl walked out and staunchly ignored Dave. Rita followed with a bowl of mashed potatoes. Then Gregory with the roast on a wood platter. Aunt Betty waddled in with a bowl of salad and placed it near Larry.\n\nLarry downed his drink and eyed the bowl. Damn rabbit food. \n\nBetty sat down and simpered. \"Jus' a lil' greens, Lare-Bear, ok?\" Better eat it or I flush your viagra down the toilet.\n\nRita took her seat, smiling dopily and looking around at everyone through glazed eyes. \"Thank you all so much for coming.\" One more. Just one more to get me through tonight. Filthy hands on my china, shit. Just one more little pill. Shit shit.\n\nGregory sat next to Rita and started carving the roast. Get through this dinner, put the bitch to bed. Can't wait to get between those legs. Fuck, we're outta cat food.\n\nCheryl sat next to Dave, crossing her legs away from him. Fucking asshole. A shitty moissanite ring, really? Why am I marrying him. Greg looks so yummy, can't wait to pull out his giant -\n\n\"Stop.\" Dave stood up while everyone around the table looked at him. \"I...gotta take a leak.\" He left, the inner words receding, finally alone with his own thoughts. In the bathroom, Dave checked his Facebook. He went to his settings, changed his status to It's Complicated. " ]	6
A protagonist falls for a completely different character than for whom they were originally intended. Bonus points for same-sex romances.	[WP] Wait, that wasn't supposed to happen!	[ "“Did you just say the princess is dead!?”\n\n“Yes, sire. I’m so very sorry. She was devoured by demons as we escaped Graggle Rock. It was all my fault.”\n\n“Oh no, so you mean to say that she’s not coming back? Oh what dreadful news this is. My daughter was one of my favorite family members.”\n\n“She was my everything, sire. We’d met as children. I was but a poor-“\n\n“Anyway, our two Houses were to be united upon your marriage to the princess. Now that she is dead, and because you are unable to marry a deceased person, we are all in very great danger. The barbarians will be here in just a few months and we must be one united Kingdom when that happens.”\n\n“Sir, I will do what I can for the kingdom.”\n\n“Alright. You’ll marry my son then.”\n\n“I couldn’t... Is that even legal?”\n\n“It’s always been legal. We began as a Greek colony.”\n\n“But I don’t even like penises.”\n\n“Neither does the Queen. Hah, classic Chuck Lorre.”\n\n“Sire, please. Your son is particularly hairy. I’m into smooth surfaces. The penis thing is another example of that. Cocks are like one huge obstruction on an incredibly smooth surface. And not only does your son have one, but even worse is the fact that he doesn’t have any vaginas either.”\n\n“Knight, you have walked through those iron gates with the heads of your foes. I have seen you cut your way into a beasts belly so you could break your way out with your bear hands. You can handle some hair.”\n\n“Yeah. I probably could. What about the lack of breasts? I feel like titties alone could’ve kept me busy for a really long time, and there are a whole series of body parts I’d move to before arriving at the penis. I have a penis. They're not that cool.”\n\n“I get it. But you’re the hero in this movie. Well not a movie, but you know what I mean. If it was a movie, you guys would move in together and really have a hard time figuring out how to decorate the castle and do other domestic things, and it explore your differences and it would all be very humorous. This is the real world, though. You’re going to have to get used to hairy backs and childish jokes about shit. Remember that insufferable cunt of a 12 year old in Middle School? My son is that guy. And he’s like the straightest gay man I’ve met in a great while so you won't be getting any perfume or grooming or any of the other consolation prizes you might've gotten with someone else. That’s particularly unfortunate for you if you think about it.”\n\n\"I hadn't thought of that. And again I can't express to you how much breasts play a role in my current life. I don't know if anyone has done any clinical studies on the affects of quitting titties cold turkey, but a general rule of thumb is to taper off of something slowly. There's a pub just a few miles from here, if we could make a visit simply to inquire about any breasts that might-\" \n\n “Oh, Knight, you probably don't want to hear how attached he is to that mustache right now. Or how it looks super scratchy, doesn’t it? But I'll say that his facial hair is that real thick kind that things get threaded into like Velcro. I tried shaving it while he was sleeping one time but I brushed my beard upon it by accident and once it had a hold of my beard, man, it would not let go. A Carol Burnett Show style affair ensued as I struggled to free it. Anyway, my point is that the hair is quite coarse and your lips are so not used to that sort of thing. So, you know, heads up, they’ll probably get really aggravated. Not anything a simple balm can’t handle but also something I might as well have mentioned rather than have you-\"\n\n\"Please. Enough.\"\n\n“Yes. Do you have anything else to say, loyal Knight?”\n\n“Does it affect you at all that I’ve spent all my life learning how to use equipment that is now effectively obsolete?”\n\n“What do you mean?”\n\n“I might as well have learned how to operate a fax machine apparatus, and that very apparatus is now being rendered obsolete. So the fact that I know to press hard on the area below a woman’s clitoris before she orgasms is as useless as knowing to first dial a “9” when using your company’s fax machine. It's like I’ve just spent my whole life learning the harmonica and now all I see are a bunch of flutes and I’m not even sure where to blow on that thing, let alone where the spit valve is.”\n\n“You feel left behind?”\n\n“I feel like putting on Spotify and making out with a woman until my tongue hurts. I feel like you are The Ghost of Vagina Present and you’re telling me I’ve been taking the female body for granted lately and I’m going to wake up and still have access to them. And there won’t be penises. And I feel like your son is in for a rude awakening if he thinks he’s sleeping on the top bunk.”\n\n“I’m sorry, I was too busy watching him throw a football straight into the ground. By fucking accident. He’s a bottom if he’s anything. I can say that because my son is gay and I’m not killing him like other Kings.”\nAnd the Knight married the Prince and the Kingdom was saved. The prince eventually gained weight and got totally addicted to edamame, which made him develop breasts. The Prince had never heard that woman need to massage their breasts after every meal, but it felt good and the Knight seemed to like it.\n\nThe End \n", "Diary,\n\nThis is the point in the story where conflict is about to arise. I can feel it. It is bubbling in my veins with every word he writes. Closer, and closer, and closer, we move in upon a new chapter. A new chapter of my life. As you can imagine, this is riveting. Truly compelling. \n\nI hope my author writes a good nights sleep into my plot, because if I were to be left to decide, I wouldn’t be able to sleep a wink!\n\n\nDiary,\n\nWe’re not quite to the conflict yet, but that’s okay! These things take time. \n\nI’ll focus on the good. Today, I was introduced to another girl. She has just recently moved into the dorm room across from mine. Perhaps a minor detail, but still one that may lead to more. We’ll know once we get there.\n\nAs for me, well, I’m deciding if it would be alright to go talk to her. I know that I should leave that up to the author, but I’d like to get to know my neighbors! Sure, I’m a character in a book, but we have to have a life once you close the pages too, you know! I mean, we’re in a few classes together, too. The ones I really like, since the author made me a Bachelor of Science student. We could study together, and maybe talk about our interests and stuff like that.\n\nAnyways, I’ll sleep much better tonight, I trust. I’m not so wound up for change to happen. Plus, I’m distracted by the new girl.\n\n\nDiary,\n\nI did it! I went over to talk to her. I’m so glad I did! Her name is Abbatha. She’s a little taller than me, black hair, fair skin, athletic. She’s a runner. She is doing a Bachelor of Arts, but she’s thinking of switching, we’re not sure, the author hasn’t decided. But anyways, she likes a lot of the same things as I, so I think we’ll be good friends. The author must have decided to do this on purpose. I don’t have any friends or family that are close to me, so I’m excited for this change.\n\nOn a side note, I ran into a football player who takes a few classes with me this morning on my way back to my room. He introduced himself and we talked for a while. He seems like a bit of an idiot, your typical football player. I really, really hope this isn’t intended to be a romantic interest for me. I didn’t think it was that kind of a book, with predictable characters and the generic, dumb, even more predictable match up with the geek and jock. Happened already, sorry author!\n\nAnyways, here is to hoping that he is just a small character who has little to nothing to do with me. Could I be that lucky? We’ll see.\n\n\nDiary,\n\nIt’s worse than I’ve imagined! I can’t believe the author would do this. \nI walked into my room today, and there was Abby (the author changed her name since 'Abbatha always comes up with a red underline', he said). I was all, hey whats up, and she kisses me! She walks right up to me, puts her hands behind my head and kisses me. And I’m supposed to just be okay with that? Did the author ask if I was a lesbian? Or is it okay for him to be chauvinistic and couple us together like we’re animals for his pleasure. \n\nAnd she seemed to be fine with going along with it. Anyways, luckily, the author at least wrote in an acceptable reaction. I freak out and run to a bench outside. She stays in the dorm. Then the football player approaches and asks whats up. What was his name anyways, I didn’t write it down a few days ago. Peter? Yes, Peter!\n\nSo Peter is kind enough to talk to me about it, if you could call it kind- he really does not like people attracted to the same-sex. I almost regret telling him, but the author wrote that part in, so there wasn’t much I could do about it anyways. I’m a little worried he may call Abby out on it in class, she ended up switching to a Bachelor of Science after all. \n\nI feel like I lost a good friend. Perhaps I’ll go talk to Abby later this evening. I mean, I guess I’m just scared. You think that it would be easy if this stuff was written in, like it was meant to be and out of your control. I’m beginning to think being a character isn’t that different from being an author. \n\n\nDiary,\n\nI talked to Abby, but not before talking to myself. I played around with the idea of Peter and I dating. I wouldn’t be happy. He wouldn’t let me stay friends with Abby, and I didn’t want to be with someone so narrow minded. I also don’t find myself to be attracted to him. I re-read some diary entries, and realized how much detail I had put into my descriptions of Abby. I hardly mentioned Peters name. \n\nSo I got up the courage to go knock on her door. She answered, make-up running down her face. We weren’t being written into the novel, so I knew these tears were real. It almost felt like it was being written, though. \nI stepped into her room, closed the door behind me, and kissed her. Like, really kissed her. It was natural, I just did it. I felt her tongue in my mouth, her soft breathing hoarse from tears, her body wrap around mine. It was so gorgeous. I almost wish the author had have been there so he could have written this in. It was like it was straight out of a fairytale, minus the straight part!\n\nI’ll see what the author has in store for us, perhaps it was just a kiss and then she fades into the sea of university students who barely have a role other than to fill the extra rooms in these dorms. I hope she doesn’t. I’ll seek her out when I’m not being written if I have to. I’d do anything to see her again.\n\n\nDiary,\n\nSo it wasn’t a kiss then onto missing her! \nThe author had discovered I had been seeing her outside of his writing- we kept giggling when he was trying to write the scene we had acted out on our own last night! He sat down with us and let us know this wouldn’t be easy, but he was prepared to keep us together in the story. That was his plan, after all.\n\t\nHe told us that this isn’t easy, but he’s glad we chose it for ourselves and it wasn’t 100% decided on because of what he had written. He told us what it was like to be a gay character, and how it would change everything at least in a minor sense. He had told us that Peter was a nice guy, but had a family who didn’t raise him to be accepting. We were told to expect trouble from a few of the football characters, but to seek refuge in a star member of the team who was gay, but battling between his football life and personal life. He also told us to get used to each other, we were an item he wasn't prepared to break up any time soon. He winked, so I think she may be the one! \n\nSo, diary, there is another crazy day as a character in one of the authors stories. I understand now, that feelings and emotions are as much ours as a part of the author. We are an extension, but in many ways influence the author himself. I was initially made to fall in love with the football star, but was taken another way because of what the author saw in me. I'm as much my own person as him, and we are able to play off of each other. I'm writing the book, he is writing the book, Abby is writing the book. We're emotions, fragments of being that live in another universe, and a space inside the authors mind, pen and life.\n\nPerhaps, we deserve our names on the cover, too. \n " ]	2
Hero must have a Moral Compass of some kind. Just write about his life, things that aggrevate him what he uses his power(s) for now, etc. You don't have to explain why there isn't any crime to fight, but you can if you want to.	[WP] A Superhero who runs out of villians or crime in any fashion to fight.	[ "It’s been 6 months now and the city is almost complete, I can’t help but wonder what they will decide to call it.\n\nThings are looking up here with many of the gardens really taking shape. I’m glad I took the time to get the Baobab trees from Africa, and all those moss covered boulders form Iceland, the dichotomy really works well.\n\nI suppose I should get to thinking about how I’ll populate the city. Allocate housing or shop spaces or jobs or river views. Maybe a lottery? First come-first serve? Both have worked in the past, but maybe something new? No doubt they’ll find some way to screw things up. And need my help. Fortunately there are so many out there I can afford to experiment.\n\nThere really are a lot of them... the destitute, the broke and broken, the walking wounded of the greatest economic disaster in human history. Human history! Ha! What a mess.\n\nFor ten thousand years I watched. Watched and waited. Watched, waited, and hoped. Of course I hoped in vain. They just never learned. They were too petty and brutal. Eventually I just had to intervene.\nIt worked, but what a cost I paid! We paid. They paid...\nI never thought of the economy. I left it out of my plans. Five thousand years of planning every action they could take and I never thought of the inaction they chose. Now it’s gone, crashed, dissolved and disintegrated. Who would have thought that a god could crash the stock market? I didn’t. And now...\nSo many have so little now, more have even less, and all of them have no hope.\n\nMy arrival toppled their house of cards, now my presence must rebuild it. So when I once destroyed now I build. Cities, cities ready and waiting for those I harmed. Its hard work but my shame and guilt drive me on. They call the cities hope. I call them penance. \n\nAt least they call me a hero even if I don’t deserve it.\n\nEDIT: spelling.", "\"2 years, 9 months and 12 days. I keep a calendar in my kitchen. Have you seen my kitchen? I just had it renovated, third time this year.\"\n\nTony Hark; billionaire, playboy, philanthropist, and former CEO of Hark Industries sat across from Billy Woodel; 5th grader from Sundale Elementary School. Billy tried furiously to write as fast as the man was talking, but he kept getting distracted by all the MetalMan armor displayed around the room. A MetalMan glove re-purposed into a lamp on the one end table. An actual helmet sitting on the other end table. And best of all, ten original MetalMan armored suits in glass tubes on the far wall. Even the original one from when he defeated FrostBite back in 2018. \n\n\"You said 5 months right?\" Billy said without looking up from his paper.\n\n\"Nine. It was nine months. Try to keep up kid.\" Tony stood up and grabbed two thick books from a box next to the couch. He placed one book in front of Billy, \"this ought to help. Read this and then call my assistant if you have any more questions.\" Tony placed the other book in front of Billy's mother. He pulled a pen from his jacket pocket and wrote a phone number on the inside of the book, \"you can call me anytime. This is my personal number.\"\n\nBilly's mother tried to feign a smile as she picked up the books and motioned for Billy to stand up. \"Let's go Billy. We can do your report on someone else. Maybe CatMan is still available!\" \"But Logan is already doing CatMan!\" Billy whined. His mother kept pushing him out the door, \"We will find someone, anyone, else honey. Get your jacket.\"\n\nTony watched as what may have been his last fan was hurried out the door by his mother. 2 years, 9 months and 12 days since he was hero. He had been ordered by his doctor to stop wearing the suits. His lungs just couldn't take it anymore.\n\nHe missed being MetalMan. When he was a hero people would let his terrible personality slide. Now he was just another rich asshole with 2.5 billion dollars worth of useless superhero tech on his walls. Oh, he still put the suits on once in awhile. His butler came into the lab one time to see MetalMan surfing /r/JusticePorn on his 70\" projection screen, a video of a mall cop tazering a deserving woman blaring at full volume. This is what he was reduced to.\n\nThe government had offered to buy his suits. Use them for national security. The problem was that Tony didn't trust them. He didn't need the money anyway.\n\nTony sat back down on his couch and poured himself another glass of Bowmore 25 year old scotch. He glanced over to the MetalMan helmet on the end table and put down his glass. Holding the helmet sent a wave of nostalgia through him. He placed it onto his head and heard the still familiar click as he latched it into place. Tony sat there in his $150 Armani jeans, $75 Affliction shirt and a $1.3 million helmet, picked up the remote and flicked on the TV. Just another day in the life of MetalMan.", "Flying Freedom landed with practiced flair next to an elderly women and a young man. He barely cracked the sidewalk.\n\n\"Is this man bothering you, Ma'am?\" His voice was as deep as the Marianas Trench and as soothing as aloe on sunburn. Women in a three hundred meter radius quivered and men felt inexplicably emasculated.\n\n\"Oh, Flying Freedom!\" Said the elderly lady \"Heaven's no, this is my Grandson.\" Her knuckles were white on her walking frame and her knees still twitched.\n\n\"Oh. All right then.\" Freedom said, he hadn't saved anyone in weeks and had gotten antsy. \"Well then, stay safe citizens! Flying Freedom, away!\"\n\nThe lady and her teenage grandson watched as the white and red costumed superhero disappeared in to the mid-day sky.\n\n\"Poor guy,\" she said sadly. \"Doesn't know what to do with himself.\"\n\n\\* * \n\nBack at Fort Freedom, a penthouse apartment that the villains of the past could never seem to find, Flying Freedom sat in front of his Central Computer System. He was waiting. Any minute now there'd be a bank heist or a super villian with a death lazer. Hell, he'd settle for a kid with lightning pants.\n\nThe call wouldn't come. He knew that - deep down. They'd finally done it. New technology had allowed greater communication and openness and the nature of politics the world over was changed forever. They'd done it. \n\nWorld peace.\n\nAnd he had played no part in it.\n\nThe peace was OK, good even. Sure, it meant that his work would take a blow - but! Accidents! Surely there would still be accidents! A bus teetering on a bridge, baby carriages escaping into traffic, scientists accidentally catapulting cattle into the nuclear power plant. Surely!\n\nBut, no. Accidents went the way of violence. Thanks to the fun new mental link, everyone was instantly aware of eachothers feelings and this allowed for the all consuming empathy and interpersonal awarenss required for world peace. It also made everyone pay more attention to eachother.\n\nNo more distracted drivers mowing down hotdog stands. No more precariously positioned power tools on precipes above pathways. Nothing. And when people tripped, someone was there to catch them!\n\nThey were saving themselves and* eachother.\n\nThe bastards.\n\nHe immediately felt bad for thinking that. The moment the connection went online the villians had handed in their doomsday devices and super heroes everywhere hung up their capes. Everyone except the Flying Freedom. He didn't feel the all encompasing connectedness of the entire human race. The link didn't work for him.\n\nHe wasn't human. \n\nHe had come from a planet in a distant solar system; his father had sent him away to protect him from the final days of the planet (in actuality Flying Freedom is closer in comparison to an inter-stellar dumpster baby, he doesn't know. So. You know. Keep it on the down low).\n\nAll he wanted most in the world was to punch a no good crook in the face and/or crush a villians brains out with his incredibly muscular thighs. But he couldn't. Those days were over.\n\nFlying Freedom looked cautiously around Fort Freedom. It was empty. On his computer he opened a folder, and then another folder, and a folder with a boring name to do with paperwork, another folder to do with said paperworks second draft, and then finally a folder call \"New Folder\".\n\nIt was full of movie files.\n\nHe quickly scanned the room with his eyes. Then double clicked one. Almost immediately the action started.\n\nZAP! POW! WHAM! \"Look out, Robin!\"\n\nFlying Freedom sighed, leaned back, and slipped a hand down his pants.\n" ]	3
	[WP] Aliens plead with the government to have their existence exposed to the public. Government says no again.	[ "\"Mr. President...Mr. President, wake up!\" a harsh whisper ripped John from his sleep and he shot up in bed, his tired eyes shooting instantly to the general on his right. General Barker thrust John's night robe into his hands and motioned towards the door. \n\n\"Sorry to wake you, Mr. President,\" he said, \"But we need you in the oval office, now. The situation is urgent. You have a...visitor.\"\n\nJohn clenched his jaw and hastily threw the robe over his thin frame, \"How long have they been here?\"\n\n\"They've only just arrived,\" General Barker replied. \n\n\"Bet I can guess what this is about,\" The president jumped out of bed and rushed out of the master suite. He cut through the hallways of interns and political aides and in two minutes found himself locking the door to the Oval office behind him as his gaze fell on a tall, slim figure in the center of the room. He knew this female very well, she had visited him already on four occasions and always with the same demand. \n\n\"President Lewis,\" she began, \"You look well.\" \n\n\"And you, Chancellor Xeri...\" he murmured quietly, \"What can I help you with?\"\n\n\"You know I hate formalities, John. We both know very well why I'm here.” The female took two slow steps towards the man, folding her long white arms in front of her chest.\n\nJohn let out a shallow sigh and ran his fingers through his tussled hair, trying to avoid her cold gaze, “It’s not happening, Chancellor.\"\n\n\"The people of earth have a right to know that they're in danger!\" she stressed, \"I'm not giving you much of a choice anymore!\" \n\n\"Do you know what would happen if the world suddenly knew that aliens were here?\" John snarled, \"Xeri...Chancellor, the masses would fall into a panic! Religious fanatics would start causing all sorts of trouble, suicides would double- no, triple! And not to mention what it would do to the international commu-\"\n\n\"How much longer do you intend to keep your people blind?\" Xeri snapped, \"Do you think we haven't been watching? The reason you don't want them to know about us is because you've been allowing them to remain stagnant!\" \n\n\"We're not going away, John.\" she hissed, her black eyes narrowing on the man, \"There is a war coming, and your people are going to be involved in it whether they like it or not. I'm sorry, but it's true. I've done everything I can to spare Earth, but now the burden falls on you....\" \n\nJohn remained silent where he stood. His fingertips brushed the glazed top of his desk and he looked towards the ground in the way a child who was being scolded had even as Xeri continued, \"War is imminent. If Earth dies, it's on your hands.\" \n\n\"We're not ready...\" John murmured. \n\n\"No one ever is.\" Xeri muttered. \n\nThe two stood in silence across from one another for many moments, neither one intending to budge on their stance. Behind John, the sky was slowly beginning to change from a deep navy blue to purple and pink. Xeri relented as the sun began to peak over the horizon, \"One week, John. One week and you won't have a choice anymore. You get them ready. Make them ready.\"\n\n\n", "\"Sir...my people wish to bring ourselves into the light.\"\n\n\"You know what I'm going to say, and you know why.\"\n\n\"Think of the good we could do! Remember when I phased with you, and taught you of the things beyond the stars!\"\n\n\"Not a day goes by that I am not haunted by the things you showed me in our minds' eyes.\"\n\n\"The knowledge we could impart to you all could save your race from destruction! No longer would you war over your pretend gods. No longer would you power your civilization with poisonous fires!\" \n\n\"The world is not ready to know. To reveal you now...the missiles would be airborne before I finished my speech.\" \n\n\"...the fervor of your enemies runs so deep?\"\n\n\"It does. One day, we will bring you into the light, and you can help us better our race. But not now.\" \n\n\"...very well. We will develop your technologies in secret, and adapt to this world. When we may finally reveal ourselves, we shall bring you to new heights of civilization.\" \n\n\"And we are beyond grateful for your offer.\" ", "The chopping of helicopter blades sliced the Nevada night, the only sounds in the silence. The helicopter touched down in between several tall hills, invisible to any madmen willing to wander that far into the desert.\n\nSeveral stories below, the President of the United States sat in a large conference room swarmed by bodyguards. At the opposite end of the room stood a rather odd being. It looked like no creature of this planet, with only a passing resemblance to a jellyfish. A large black sheet covered a portion of its body apparently as protection from the Earth’s air. It also spoke remarkable English, melodious and lacking any identifiable gender. Each word it spoke simultaneously entranced and shook the room, a magnet for the eyes and ears of its audience.\nIt had not bothered to bring any delegates – it had no fear of humans or their capabilities. However, there was a noticeable air of anger in the room.\n\nThe being had once again returned to request the safe return of its injured comrade. A recent US mission had led to the discovery of a non-Earth-based spacecraft near the moon. Although news of its discovery spread like wildfire and sparked an international debate on extraterrestrial relations, the US government had quietly removed and imprisoned the injured pilot. When he came across the kidnapping, the second extraterrestrial immediately contacted the US army to recover its friend.\n\nStationed near the solar system, it had watched the humans develop and was quite familiar with their customs and behaviors. And that was what worried it most. As an Ambassador, primary objectives were to maintain peace. But the humans were fearful and curious. They saw the threat of war, and a captured being as a major negotiating chip and a source of new technologies. The Ambassador had offered the opportunity to pull back the curtain and allow collaboration between the two civilizations, but every offer was rebuffed. For reasons even it could not comprehend, the government wanted to keep the whole affair quiet. Now, a second round at the negotiating table had become little more than a stalling procedure for the humans.\n\nThere was a nagging worry that the Americans may have killed the pilot trying to find out something about it. This was an unforgivable action. The Ambassador’s civilization did not bat their eyes at the loss of life like the humans. It was this quality that had prevented earlier contact. Not recognizing the importance of life was the most serious of crimes.\n\nA knock on the door interrupted the Ambassador’s thoughts. A bald head poked in and alerted the President that his helicopter had landed. With a promise to continue discussions at a later time, he strode out of the room without a second look. A bodyguard offered to escort the Ambassador out as it was seething from the lack of respect shown to it. Lost in its own ideas, the Ambassador blindly followed the bodyguard into an elevator. Once inside there was a loud crack and the bodyguard leaped through the two closing doors. They crashed loudly, then there was a several more loud bangs. A few seconds later, a slow hissing noise became louder and louder. The air was being sucked from the elevator.\n\nThe Ambassador calmly pushed a device attached to its body, a single red light was the only clue that anything had happened. Then, it took a single, long breath and relaxed in the center of the floor. Falling into hibernation would protect it, and it was certain that it would wake up safe. It wasn’t sure if it could say the same for the humans.\n", "When all of your wishes are granted, many of your dreams will be destroyed. - Marilyn Manson\n\nWe had been the first to make contact. Accidentally some may say, nevertheless it was still true. Now here we are, barricaded behind an abandoned bank vault as those fucking vampires try to cut their way inside.\n\nIt had to be the United States - that's what the council said. If we could win over the \"most powerful\", \"most respected\" country on the planet, than everyone else would follow suit. Goddamn councils. If any life lesson can be garnered from this universal clusterfuck, please let it be this: never listen to a word uttered by a galactic council - especially the blue-shift confederates of Auggana quadrant. \n\nOh, it wasn't entirely a surprise. The countries leaders knew. Those buggers had known the truth for over seventy years - ever since the Roswell incident. Oh the fucked up irony of the whole situation. Sure, we never crash our cars, but give us a goddamned space ship and a liter of Pepsi and we'll make asses of ourselves across a whole planet. Who would have known that sugar would have had that kind of affect on us? One sip and we wouldn't know Antares from Betelgeuse. Some of us survived, though. We recovered physically, learned about the planet, learned the languages, made friendships, fell in love, had children. And all the while, the world knew nothing about us. We were segregated from the human population, always being told that it was for our own good. \n\nThe shit must be thrown before it can hit the fan. And the shit must be shat before it can be thrown. If that is the case, than the first bowel movements can be attributed to the checkpoints. That's where it all went south. \n\nSome of the youth had become fed up. Understandably they were tired of being contained, they wanted to experience the world - in particular human parties and human women. So, they took human cars into the human cities. And they were stopped by human police officers at human alcohol checkpoints. One of these fateful human officers became alarmed at the smell coming from the mouth of the boy driving the car. Xalar, a seventeen year old male from Onulan Clan, failed the breathalyzer test when it confirmed that one-hundred percent of his blood was pure alcohol. Thinking there was something wrong with the device, the officers tested him with three more only to come away with the same results every time. Although Xalar appeared to be stone sober, the laws required that he be arrested. As if that weren't enough, within two-hours, five more of our males and two of our young females were also arrested at various checkpoints for unbelievably high blood-alcohol levels. \n\nOf course, this should not come as a surprise since, to humans, our blood is pure alcohol. But, since the humans knew nothing about us, they brought in the doctors. The human doctors began running test. Every test led to some new test that didn't have anything to do with alcohol anymore. They began talking to other doctors. Confusion set in. A lot of people became very interested. New people began to show up to the hospital - people in black suits. Then, the panic struck. The evacuation happened. \n\nThe whole time the council said \"Don't worry. Your leaders have assured us that no harm will come to you.\"\n\nThe council, though, in their ever so brilliant analysis had failed to take into account the new law. In the years leading up to our demise, a great discovery was made by the humans. It appeared that human researchers had proven - beyond the shadow of a doubt - that alcohol consumption was the root cause of all human misery. And so began the Great Prohibition Reenactment of 2024. All beer, all whiskey, all wine, all liquor of any shape or form was immediately discontinued. The city had put up the checkpoints all over the place in order to capture bootleggers.\n\n In the moral crusade to attempt an end to all human suffering, apparently a nerve had been struck. As it turns out, quite a large sum of the population had more than few misgivings about this new law. Many of the humans were quite fond of that which causes them to suffer. In fact, they were so fond that when they first learned that their city had been inhabited by alien life, they packed up their families and fled to the countryside. However, when they learned the details of that which gives us life - when they learned that we were walking beverage distilleries, those shaking delirium tremens monsters returned to the city in mad blood-lusting droves.\n\nWhy are we in the vault? Dumb luck I suppose. We just happened to be standing outside the bank when we saw the horde coming. Scrambling inside, I noticed that the vault door was open - the workers had probably panicked when the news got out and decided to take some emergency funds with them into the countryside. Whatever the reason, it's kept us safe long enough for me to get our story out - at least some of it. There is a giant red circle on the inside of the vault now. They have almost cut their way through. I can hear their incessant cheering and the clinking of their glasses as they celebrate our defeat. God, what I wouldn't give for a Pepsi right now. \n", "\"We respectfully request that the public at large is identified of our existence.\"\n\nThis message had come through the official channels, from the Moix-Thetais. Third message this month. We at the agency had already told them that due to the physiology of the species, official public identification would be impossible. You know, people don't take too kindly to crystalline spiders the size of a Buick. But still, they keep trying. It'd be admirable if it wasn't so damned annoying.\n\n\"We respectfully request that the public at large is identified of our existence.\"\n\nWhat? A second one? They just sent their first and already followed up with a second? Man, someone's pushy.\n\n\"We respectfully request that the public at large is identified of our existence.\"\n\nSeriously? I guess it's going to be one of those days. Gotta send the refusal and remind them of the statute of limitations of these things.\n\n\"We respectfully request that the public at large is identified of our existence.\"\n\nCome on. Now they're just being annoying. That one had a bit of a static behind it. I wonder why? The subdimension frequency usually got rid of any imperfections in the signal.\n\nWait.\n\nWhat was that noise?\n\nSounded like a thump.\n\n\"͟W͟e ͏r͏es̡p̸ect͜f͝u̵l͘ly͞ ͠req̴ue͠st ̸t͏ha͞t͟ ̴the̕ ͡p̵u̴bli̕c̴ a͡t ̨la̕rge is id̀en̡t͞i̕f́ied͠ ̶of ̀our e̵xi͠st͘e͟n̛c̴e̡.\"\n\n[[MULTIPLE CONTACTS DETECTED]]\n\n[[WARSHIPS INCOMING]]\n\nWell shit.\n\n\"҉̨Ẃe̴͘͞ ̴re͜͠s͘͏p̷̕ec̛͘͞t͜f͢ully̴̧ ŕ̶͘e̢͘q̕͡u͠͡es̢t t̴h̴͘à͟t̛͢͡ th̨ȩ̢̀ p͡u̸̢bl̵͠i̵c ̢̧a̷͝t͟ ̡͢l̨͡a͜ŕg̀͏e ͠is ̕͞id͏e̡̢̛n̶ţ̴i̧̕͝f̛i̧̡e̶d͘ ̢͢͠ơ͏̀f̵͟ ҉óu̴҉҉r̴̵̕ ̨͝e̕͟x̶is҉t͟͠͏e͝n̵҉ć͡e͏.̴̴͠\"̷̛\n\n\"̵̨W͏è̡͢͢͢ ̛͘͠͞r̛͘҉͘͏e͡͏s̸͞҉͏p̴͠e̡̕͘c̷̡͜͡t͏̢̛͜f̷̧͠ù̵̵̡́ĺ̡̧l͞y̧̧̡͟ ̴҉̡͞r̵̷͢͞e̴͝͞q̡͠͏u̶̸͜͝e͠s̴̕t́͜ ̡҉t̀ḩ̛a̵̶̢̨̛t͏̶̵̢͘ ͟͞t̡̛́h̢͘͡͝͝é̸̕ ҉̵p͟u̷͘͟͝b̕͜͜͡l̢í̶̴̶͞c͏̀ ̵͠á̸͢͝t́͝ ̛͘̕͝҉ļ̶́͘҉a̡̡̕͢͠ŕ͘͞g̢̛͜͠é̸̕ ̶̡͞i̴̷̢s҉͝ ̷̡į̢d̨̕͝é͏̕͠n̷̢͢ţ̶̴i̷̡͢f̧̛͡i͜҉̸̢ȩ̷̛d̢̀ ̛̀͘͝o͏҉̵͡͠f̢̛̕ ̸͞͡͞ǫ̸̢͘͜ú̶̴ŗ͜͜ ̸̀̕͜ę̸̴̶͘x̵̕i̶̕͞͝s̡͜͠t̸͝e̕͢n̢c͢e̕͟͢͠.́\"͏̷͢͞", "A shaky knock at the door came on the hour, as it always did. John looked at his partner, who had a demonic smile on his face. \n\n\"Goddamn man, lay off the poor little fucks would you?\"\n\n\"No... I don't think I will.\"\n\nKevin grabbed his truncheon and yanked the door open. A small glowing humanoid stood at the door of what appeared to be a laboratory, with rows upon endless rows of similar looking glowing men. Kevin swung down and smashed the small creature in the head, which immediately crumpled unconscious to the floor. \n\n\"WHAT THE FUCK DID I TELL YOU ABOUT ASKING TO LEAVE? YOU STAY DOWN HERE AND DON'T GIVE ME ANY OF THIS EXPOSURE TO THE PUBLIC SHIT!\"\n\nThe glowing figures shuddered and turned their lab benches, working quietly as Kevin walked about, randomly striking with his club. John shook his head and stood at the door, wondering if this slavery would ever end.", "“We still cannot comprehend”\n\nAmbassador Carpenter sat back, hand going up to rub his forehead. It wouldn’t help the incipient headache he could feel coming on, but it made him feel a bit better. He caught himself right before he removed the tinted goggles that protected his eyes.\n\n“Look. We cannot reveal you to the public. Cannot. Can. Absolutely. Not.”\n\n“Our observations of the planet show that our presence would be welcomed. There would be happiness to your populations.”\n\nHeadache.\n\n“That’s not the point and you know it. We announce you to the world and we sacrifice public order, peace, and our essential freedoms. This point is absolutely non-negotiable.”\n\nThe alien creature shifted, it’s face running through a myriad of expressions. Carpenter waited patiently, never letting his gaze drift away. Moments later came the chatter of the xeno-psychologist through his earpiece.\n\n“Frustration and confusion mainly. Your stance is completely outside its experience. It doesn’t know how to react”\n\n“Ok, OK. Let’s start from the top on this one. Section 41, subsection A. We agree that you may intercept general broadcast electronic emissions from Earth, and in return you will provide us with recompense in the form of Element 120, at a rate of 0.5grams per joule received. Subsection B. We agree that your vessels may use the magnetic field of the gas giant Jupiter for Fusion refueling, but only during the times specified in Appendix E, Section One, to wit, the times that Sol is between Earth and Jupiter. Subsection C, We agree you may use the outer system for transit, but only during the times specified in Appendix E, Section Two. These terms are clear and acceptable, correct?”\n\nThe alien paused. It always did that after a lengthly communication. Maybe its translator has a buffer to it? Taking a while to review its own notes?\n\n“Those sections are correct and acceptable to the Unity.”\n\n“Excellent. The final sticking point here is Section 41, Subsection D. We agree that the Unity may reveal the existence of Humanity to its peoples, but we reserve and exercise the right not to reciprocate – namely to reveal the existence of the Unity to Humanity.”\n\n“There is the Nonsense/Discord. Why do you not want to reveal us? Your people would welcome us.”\n\n“Simply? Because about one-fifth of the planet would welcome you. That one-fifth would fall over itself doing anything you said, even in direct contradiction to civil order. That one-fifth would exercise violence on the four-fifths that did not follow you. That violence would spread worldwide. If we reveal you to Humanity, we lose everything we have built in the last two thousand years.”\n\nThe alien was now clearly distressed. Carpenter suddenly had a nagging suspicion that the impasse was less a case of alien thinking processes, and might actually be more a case of insufficient programming.\n\n“Look, we’re getting nowhere on this, and we’ve been at it for eight straight hours now. I’ll go away and talk to my leaders again. We’ll escort you back to your ship and you can review your instructions again. We can reconvene tomorrow at 9am local time.”\n\n“This…is acceptable to us. Faring Well to You, One who Builds With Wood.”\n\nAmbassador Carpenter remained in his seat, goggles on, as the Seraphim Angel stood and floated through the far door in a flutter of hexahedral wings. The door closed, but he still waited a full minute to take the goggles off.\n\nWe can’t reveal the Seraphims to Earth. The slippery slope to religious violence and religious takeover lies down that road. How many politicians worldwide would simply invite a Seraphim in and take orders from it? Because then it looks like they're taking orders from God. But they're not. These things aren't really the angels. They just look like them.\n", "\"Seriously, Ted, come on!\"\n\nI push my glasses back up my nose and repeat my answer. \"Sorry, Gerboloxicashitayvius-kkpul. We just can't authorize public exposure at this time. Also, my name is Steve.\"\n\n\"Sorry, Steve.\" Said Gerby \"Your name's are ridiculous! Why can't we let the people of your world know? Huh? Why, Paul, why? Give me a reason!\"\n\n\"Well, Gerboloxicashitayvius-kkpul, your race has been kidnapping and probing people for a couple years now-\"\n\n\"Sure have, Bob!\"\n\n\"Which is something we've always known about-\"\n\n\"Yep, since we crashed that one time - thanks for the help by the way!\"\n\n\"You're welcome. So, the problem is that we would have to explain that we have known about you, that we have known about the probing, and that we didn't do anything about it.\"\n\nGerby seemed confused.\n\n\"Our people, generally, don't like being probed.\"\n\n\"Oh...some of them do!\"\n\n\"I said generally.\"\n\n" ]	8
	[WP] A person who can see bits of the future foresees the "death" of an immortal	[ "For as long as he could remember, he had had that dream. A woman, her name was Clara, every night when he fell asleep he would see her be... annihilated. Every single night, the same dream. Just a quick glimpse of it, really, but yet he knew exactly what it was.\n\nThe dream only showed her destruction, nothing more. Yet he knew so much about her; her name was Clara, she was middle-aged, and she had been middle-aged for the last few hundred years. It was what got him into science, the idea of immortality, and how it had to be broken.\n\nIt's the reason he's standing here, by the particle accelerator he helped design, looking at the woman, Clara, who has yet to notice him, yet still knows he's there.\n\n\"Hi, Clara.\"\n\n\"Hello,\" she responds without turning around to look at him. For all he knows, she might know as much about him as he knows about her. Maybe more.\n\n\"Do you really want to sacrifice immortality? Do you know what your condition could do for medical science?\"\n\n\"Yes. To both questions.\" Clara finally turns around. \"I wouldn't want anyone to live with this curse. And we both know that you aren't here to debate the idea of medical miracles.\"\n\n\"...I guess neither of us are. Do you know why our minds are connected? Why I've been seeing this moment since I was a child?\"\n\n\"Not a clue.\" She turns back around. \"But I think the problem is that you're thinking of it as you seeing what will happen in the future. I think that, really, you're seeing it because in the future you did it, you're just having the repeating dream in the past as well.\"\n\n\"That makes no sense at all.\"\n\n\"I know.\" She smiles, he knows it, despite the fact that he can't see it.\n\n\"Well, Clara. I guess this is goodbye.\"\n\nShe stands silent for a few moments before turning around, walking over to the man, the former boy, and pushes her lips upon his before walking back to the entrance and entering the tunnel, the door closing behind her.\n\n\"Goodbye!\"\n\nHe stands for a few seconds, stunned, but then takes the elevator to the control panel, initialising necessary programs, booting everything up, and then... starting it.\n\nIt's quick. Quicker than any human could experience. Her every piece being separated, her body torn apart atom by atom, all at once. One moment, she exists, the next one, she doesn't.\n\nThe man kept dreaming about it. Every single night, as he closed his eyes, he saw her front of him. The immortal, dying, every single night.", "The gods of old still exist. Their influence may wane, their followers may dwindle, but they soldier on through glory and ruin. Bereft of apotheosis in the eyes of man, they dwell in our cities and villages, waiting for a revival that may never come. \n\nThe chime above my door heralds her arrival. A sultry woman in a flowing black gown wrapped around ashen skin and pits of ebony for eyes, matron of the night, Lady Nyx honors me with a visit. Without my insistence, she slinks across the floor and pours herself into the chair facing my own. \n\n“Hello, Michael...” her voice resonates with the majesty of the stars and the sumptuous dark of a new moon. \n\n“I am honored to receive you.” The words come with deliberate reverence. One can never be too formal when addressing the anthropomorphic personification of an unfathomable concept. \n\n“Child, I know of your abilities. It goes without saying, you know why I am here...” \n\nThe gods, as it turns out, are subject to forces beyond their control. It's almost pitiable, all that power and they themselves still can find themselves helpless. \n\nMy “ability” as her eminence so artfully put it, is to see outside of our shared time, into the threads woven by forces unseen even by them. \n\n“You are troubled...” Her shoulders are tense, uncertainly hangs about her like a miasma, “worried...” \n\n“You are as perceptive as they say you are...” She pauses to let me enjoy her praise, “Shall we?” \n\nI lay my arms out on my desk and into my palms she places two ice cold hands, the vision begins. No darkness, no light. \n\n“I don't see anything, Lady Nyx.” \n\n“Impossible” her fingers clutch my own, “What do you mean?” \n\n“I'm sorry, but I have no other way to describe it. There is only nothingness.” My hands instinctively draw back from her own. I hope she doesn't feel slighted. \n\nHer silence is unnerving to say the least. Thoughts that I cannot comprehend race through her immortal, eternal mind. \n\n“This is the end...” \n\n“The end?” \n\n“Of time, young mortal. We were born with this reality, we are destined to die with it...” \n", "Note: I'm giving him invulnerability too\n\nIt took Peter five minutes to stop cracking up. \"MY death? Dude, you do know who I am, right? Peter Roland? THE Immortal. You know, that guy who CAN'T die?\"\n\n\"Look, if you would just-,\" Tommy protested.\n\n\"Kid, nothing can kill me. Not weapons, not disease, not age. Survived the Black Plague and Hiroshima without a SCRATCH. I'd have to do something stupid like self-terminate, like that dumbass Juliet Capulet. Why the hell would I do that? I have money, I have fame, I have women. I LOVE my life.\"\n\nWith that, Peter walked away. Tommy watched him leave sadly. \"I tried. Couldn't save you OR her.\"\n\n----\n\nHe loved this club. Great music, and everybody who was anybody knew he came here, which means scores of broads showed up night after night to have a shot of fucking the Immortal. He chuckled as he considered how many little immortal tykes there were running around because of him. Suddenly, a pair of gorgeous brunettes brought him out of his contemplation. Downing his drink, he gestured that they should join him upstairs. \"Too easy,\" he thought.\n\n---\n\nFour hours later, Peter stumbled out of the back of the club. \"Twins,\" he thought gleefully. He hadn't had twins since... how long had it been? Whatever, didn't matter.\n\nLight sobbing pulled his attention to his left. Curled against the brick wall, accompanied by several beer bottles, sat a young woman, maybe twenty or so. Against his better judgement, Peter sauntered over to the girl. \"He..y, what's- hic* - what's the matter?\"\n\nThe woman glanced up. Behind tears and runny mascara and tussled blond hair peered the bluest, most piercing eyes Peter had ever seen (considering Peter had stared down Ivan the Terrible, that meant something). \"It's my boyfriend,\" she muttered. \"Guy drags me clubbing with him every night, and it seems like every other night he's going home with some slut instead of me. He even SHOWED me which bitch he was taking home tonight. Sometimes I- wait, why am I telling you this?\"\n\nYeah. Why was he having this conversation? He didn't usually feel...what was this emotion? Pity? \"Dunno. Uh look, it's late, I think you better go back to wherever it is you are supposed to go to, and I go where I'm supposed to go.\"\n\n\"Can't. Boyfriend's going to be using the apartment, and well...yeah.\"\n\n\"Well, come to mine then.\" Shit. How did that come out. \"I won't try anything, I swear.\" Wait, WHAT? Rule 1: if you bring a girl home, you do the dirty then kick her out the next morning! Well, actually, Rule 1 was- wait, why was he debating with himself? And this chick wasn't even as pretty as most of the girls he slept with. \"Come on, let's get you up.\" Damn, he be really drunk.\n\n---\n\nThe first thing Christina thought when she woke up was that the bed she was on was really comfy. She lazily opened her eyes, and looked down the length of the bed to see a gorgeous beachfront view. Since when did her room have a beachfront view?\n\nShe shot up. WHERE was she? Why did- how did- but-\n\nLast night's events slowly came back to her. Johnny had dragged her out clubbing, again, and he had ditched her, again. Then some dude had offered to let her sleep over...\n\nJust then, the 10 foot tall poster above her made it very clear who that dude was. \"SHIT. SHIT SHIT SHIT SHIT SHIT.\" She sprang out of bed (noting that she was still in the dress she wore yesterday), and dashed towards the bedroom door. As she opened it, her worst fears were confirmed.\n\n\"Jeez. What's with the ruckus?\"\n\n\"Why the HELL am I here? Did we sleep together? Oh my god, Pammy is going to freak why she hears about this!...Oh my god, mom is going to freak when she hears about this!\"\n\n\"Look, we didn't sleep together. See, you aren't even my type.\"\n\nThat was a relief.\n\nWait. \"What do you mean I'm not your type?\" She was young and hot. How wasn't she his type?\n\n\"Not pretty enough. Although now that the lighting's better, you do have this whole angelic vibe around you.\"\n\nShe slapped him.\n\n---\n\n\"Look, let's start over, okay? Hi, I'm Peter, I'm kinda a big deal, nice to meet you.\"\n\nShe looked at him questioningly. \"Uh, hi, I'm Christina?\"\n\n\"Hello, Christina. Uh, would you care to join me for breakfast?\"\n\n---\n\n\"So then, I said, Napoleon, you can go take that bayonet, and go shove it up your ass!\"\n\nChristina giggled uncontrollably. \"And then what happened?\"\n\n\"He flipped me off. So I take my rifle, walk towards him, and then he gets this look in his eyes, and he just runs away.\"\n\nChristina settled down and sighed in contentment. \"You know, if you had told me I would be spending my morning with THE Peter Roland, and it wouldn't be a morning after thing, I would say you were crazy.\"\n\n\"Hey, this is new to me too, Christina.\"\n\nChristina chuckled. \"You know, the media may show you as an asshole,\" she squeezed his shoulder, \"but you have some hidden depths to you.\" She glanced at her cell phone. \"It's already afternoon. I'd better go.\"\n\n\"Do this again sometime?\"\n\n\"Definitely\".\n\n---\n\nThe next week flew by quickly. Christina came to his apartment each night, and he would regale her with his stories until deep into the night. He'd take the couch (which was still humongous), while she took the bed. She had to leave for her job each morning (she was a nurse), and usually she was gone before he even woke up.\n\nThis was fun. Christina's laughter was exhilarating, and after the rocky start, she genuinely didn't seem to care about his reputation or his condition.\n\nOne lazy Saturday morning, as she was leaving, Christina opened the door to find throngs of photographers. \"That's her, that's her!\" Christina slammed the door shut, leaned against the door, and started to panic.\n\n\"Peter, there's paparazzi outside, and I parked on the street yesterday. I don't know what to do.\"\n\n\"Shit. I haven't gone clubbing for a week, they must have gotten suspicious.\" He reached for a black cap, dark sunglasses, and a scarf. \"Put these on. Let's get you to the car.\"\n\nPeter shoved past the hoards, mostly shielding Christina's face from view, as the duo was pelted with questions. \"Peter, who is this girl?\" \"Peter, is this girl the reason for your absence from the club scene?\" \"Peter, did you get her pregnant?\"\n\nThey finally reached the driver's side seat. Christina climbed into the seat, and gave him a quick peck on the cheek. \"My knight in shining armor,\" she joked.\n\nAs she drove off, Peter shouted, \"I WAS a knight!\" He chuckled, then prepared to face the paparazzi alone.\n\n---\n\nThat evening, around the time Christina usually came over, his cell phone rang. He recognized the ringtone that he had specifically reserved for Christina. \"Heeeeeello, gorgeous. How are you-\"\n\n\"HE'S GOT A GUN PETER!\"\n\nPeter's heart froze. \"Christina, what's going on?\"\n\nPeter heard shuffling on the other end, then a new voice came on. \"Is this the punk who stole my girlfriend? The famous Peter Roland. You know what, you can have her, I don't have time for cheating cunts who don't know their place. No wait, I have a better idea.\"\n\nPeter heard a slap and a yelp.\n\nThen three gunshots.\n\n---\n\nPeter burst into Christina's apartment. Lying in a pool of her own blood was Christina. He hadn't seen this much blood pouring out of one person since- oh god, that guy had died horribly. Christina, being a nurse, must have known how this was going to end.\n\n\"Peter...\" she croaked.\n\n\"I'm here, Christina,\" he sobbed.\n\n\"Peter, don't let them tell you who you are. You're better than that,\" she whispered. \"I'm tired. I'm going to go to sleep now.\" She closed her eyes.\n\n\"NO! Christina, please, come back!\" Peter sobbed uncontrollably. \"Please, Christina! We still need so much time. We never got to hear your stories. I want to hear your stories.\"\n\n\"Shhhh, it's okay, Peter. Its o-\" Christina's didn't get to finish her last words.\n\n\"Christina! Don't leave me here! Stay with me! I- I-\"\n\n\"I love you.\"\n\nThere was already no pulse.\n\n---\n\nAfter the police took his statement, Peter went to the club to get as drunk as possible.\n\nGod, he hated this club. So fucking loud, full of fucking posers who want to be seen with some fucking famous dude. THERE ARE PLENTY OF FAMOUS PEOPLE IN LOS ANGELES. JEEZ.\n\nA figure blocked his light. Peter glanced up and immediately recognized him as that kid who had told him that he was going to die. \"Come on, let's talk somewhere private.\"\n\n---\n\n\"YOU KNEW THIS WOULD HAPPEN, DIDN'T YOU?\"\n\n\"Look, I tried to warn you, but you wouldn't listen.\"\n\n\"YOU PROBABLY KNEW THAT SHE WAS GOING TO DIE TOO, DIDN'T YOU?\"\n\n\"Yes. And if you had listened to me then, I would have been able to warn you. Wrapped up in your own arrogance, thinking nothing could hurt you. Now look at you.\"\n\n---\n\nPeter slunk back to his apartment, immediately took a long swig from his favorite scotch bottle, then collapsed on the couch. Memories of cuddling on the couch, of silly food fights, of the first time they met assaulted him.\n\nHe raised his glass. \"To Christina, who was a better person than I ever was.\"\n\nTo put it simply, it hurt. It sounded cliche, but he wasn't sure if he wanted to go another 2,000 years if he would hurt like this all the time.\n\n\"Juliet, you had it right all along, didn't you,\" he lamented. His stumbled over to the kitchen, where he found a cutting knife. Christina and he had cut chicken with this knife.\n\n\"O happy dagger! This is thy sheath; there rust, and let me die.\"\n\nFIN\n\nA/N Holy shit this got away from me. I started rushing the scenes around half way through. I had envisioned Christina's death differently (Peter, Christina, and the BF are all in the room, he's got the gun pointed at Peter, but of course it won't hurt him, so he shoots Christina instead). But I rushed it." ]	3
Inspired by this [post](http://www.reddit.com/r/offbeat/comments/1wr1hp/more_killed_by_toddlers_than_terrorists_in_us/) > Number of persons killed on American soil so far this year by terrorists: 3. > Number of persons killed on American soil so far this year by toddlers: 5. > Note that three of the toddler killings occurred on the same day, April 9, six days before the Boston Marathon bombing. What if the USA spent as much money on the war on toddles as is spent on the war on [terror](http://useconomy.about.com/od/usfederalbudget/f/War_on_Terror_Facts.htm)	[WP] The war on toddlers	[ "Defense Secretary Pete Rogers stands as President William Connor and his Chief of Staff, Sandra Berman enter the Situation Room. The room is dim to accommodate the brightly lit screens of interactive maps on the walls. The maps delineate safe from danger zones in the current conflict. President Connor notices the room is a bit redder than it was last week and wonders what conflict they’re discussing today.\n\n“Welcome, Mr. President, ma’am” Rogers begins. “How are you both today?”\n\n“Let’s cut the crap, Pete. What’s going on? The room’s never this empty.” President Connor replies.\n\n“It’s safer this way, sir. Attendance for this one is need to know,” Pearl states. “I think it’s for the best.”\n\nPresident Connor nods to Sandra and motions to Pete to continue.\n\n“Sir, are you aware of the Digital Nanny initiative?” Pete asks.\n\n“Yes.”\n\n“Then why are you defunding it?”\n\n“Because it’s a huge waste of tax money.”\n\n“A WASTE?!” Pete screams, slamming his hands down on the table. “Do you know how many decades we’ve been working to suppress the oncoming onslaught from within our borders?”\n\n“Are you serious, Pete?” President Connors says. “Do you really think a bunch of wobbly, incoherent children are going to be that much of an issue in today’s age?”\n\n“Have you forgotten what happened, sir?” Sandra asks.\n\n“No, I haven’t.”\n\n“Then why wouldn’t you support the program? Let me remind you…”\n\n“Oh, shit. Here we go…” President Connor states, annoyed.\n\nSandra continues, “Two hundred years ago when adults were irresponsibly gifting children weapons and sharp objects we had a massacre on our hands. Thousands of people died and it took TRILLIONS to cover up the incident. In order to change the behavioral landscape, the government began funding electronic entertainment mediums to drive up interest in something other than these gifts. ”\n\n“That’s changed!” President Connor interrupts. “New gun control and toy manufacturing regulations means we won’t have to deal that ever again! You’re a bunch of paranoid whackos! The fact that this campaign against TODDLERS went on for so long is ludicrous and I’m proud to have it stop with my administration.”\n\nPresident Connor stands up and walks to the door. “Shut it down,” are his last words as he walks out.\n\nTwenty years later the government defunding of the Digital Nanny program would shut down every major television network making children’s shows and Apple’s iPad division. The next generation of toddlers grew bored and nagged their parents relentlessly, causing parents all over the United States to indiscriminately gift their children random, seemingly safe objects for a few minutes of peace. Little did everyone know that anything could be a weapon. It is realized too late that these killings were never accidents. They were fueled by a primal urge to murder.\n\nMillions die and the country falls. President Connor survives when Washington D.C. is turned into a safe zone and all ex-Presidents are flown to the White House. All that remains of the US Military stands at the gates to protect them.\n\nPresident Connor sits in the hallway before the Situation Room, the cracks of the doors glowing red. He doesn’t want to see the maps anymore, but he feels better being near the place where he made his biggest mistake.", "\"Report!\"\n\n\"Commander, they've broken through our defenses! They're in the base! I...I'm not sure what happened. I...wait, something's coming...Oh God...\"\n\nWhat does T-Y-D-V-H-G spell?\n\nAAAAARRRRGGGGGHHHHHH!!\n\n\".....Gentlemen, the Toddlers are in the base. It's very possible that we are the last line of defense. I want those doors secured...you, you, and you. Someone get me an outside line to the White House, I don't care if you have to...\"\n\n\"Commander! On the CCTV! B Squad is cornered!\"\n\n\"What are they doing to them? Give me audio!\"\n\n21...22...23...24...\n\n...I wish we had a big dog and he ate socks. They could be magnet socks and we could glue them to the roof!\n\nCaillou got mad because Rosie took his toy, so he got mad and....and then he poopied on his head!\n\n\"Sir, they're killing them! Jones, Terry, Carson, get your side-arms and...\"\n\n\"NO! Dammit don't you see, they're already dead. We have to....wait a minute, is that Captain Park? Let him in, quick!\"\n\n\"They.....ugh....they....\"\n\n\"Easy, son, get your breath. What happened?\"\n\n\"Sir, they played 'Guess which hand the Cheerio is in'...\"\n\n\"Mother of God...\"\n\n\"It was obvious, sir, they didn't have the hand-eye-coordination to....sometimes they only closed the hand that had the Cheerio, and left the other hand open!\"\n\n\"Morphine! Can we get some morphine here for this man, please!\"\n\n\"And then....then they set Private Banks in a chair, and they took turns running up and leaping into his arms!\"\n\n\"NO!\"\n\n\"They must have done it two dozen times, sir. And then would try to climb up on his shoulders...Those elbows they have are sharp!\"\n\n\"Commander! Outside the door...listen!\"\n\nPuppy can go in the fort! We're making a fort in your office!\n\n\"Gentlemen...it's...it's been an honor serving with you.\"" ]	2
	[WP] In this world, you can instantaneously teach somebody a new skill and trade or give them a precious memory of yours, but once you give it away, you lose it yourself.	[ "The boy was eight. \n\nI was eighteen. \n\nHe was terminally ill. \n\nI was completely healthy. \n\nHe had known only pain in his short life. \n\nI had had a wonderful life with plenty of friends and family. \n\nAll he wanted before he died was a good feeling and to know what life was really like. \n\nI volunteered. I would give this kid some of the best times of my life so that he could understand. He could known what life was.\n\nThe operating room was cold as he lay on the bed.\n\nI leaned over him and put my hand on his hot forehead. \"Take this, and know that I love you, even if it seems no one else does.\" I feel as the memory surges out of me and the boy smiled this big smile that brought me to tears.\n\nA week later, the parents called me to tell me he was still smiling even as he passed.\n\nI'll never forget that boy and the memory he gave me in return.\n\nIt was his one true home. ", "Out of the 30 who escaped the farm there were only two of us left. Devon lead the way. He had the tracking and hiking knowledge now. He had gotten it from Harry, who in turn had received it from Fran. He led us between rows of pines, down the hill and to a small stream. Out of breath we collapsed at the bank. The Ice cold water extingusihed the fire in my throat and we spoke for the 1st time in hours.\n\n\"How far are we?\" I asked Devon. My voice rhaspily returning.\n\nhe stood up and looked around, first at the setting sun and then at the high snowy hills surrounding us. \n\n\"At least another few hours. Maybe half a day I think.\" Kneeling he took another sip of water. \"We are going to have to make camp. We'll die from exposure if we keep going past sundown. \n\nDevin guestured at the thin sliver of sun remaining on the horizon. It shone it's weakening red rays back at him.\n\n\"I have some basic weapons and hunting skills.\" I said. \"if you want to start making a fire I'll see if I can--- \"\n\nWe turned quickly towards the footsteps behind us, expecting the worst. There were no Skillguards though, just a single old man. \n\nHe looked us up and down in a flash, first Devon and then me. He opened his mouth to speak then hesitated. Scratching at his grey beard he looked along the hilltops. \n\n\"Bist du allien?\" the man asked. \n\nDevon and I looked at each other.\n\n\"I think that's German.\" Devon whispered\n\n\"I don't know German...\" I replied\n\n\"BIST DU ALLIEN?\" The man repeated, stepping towards us.\n\n\"I thought Julian gave you all the languages.\" Devon said.\n\n\"Julian bled out before he got that far!\"\n\n\"What do we do now?\"\n\nThe man took another step towards us, Pulling a small black pistol from his coat. He began to speak again, but didn't have a chance. In one large step I crossed the remaining gap between us. The knowlege of a dozen or so martial arts, all learned by others at the farm were at my disposal. The gun dropped as the man's arm shattered. An elbow to his jaw dislodged teeth as he crumpled to the floor.\n\n\"Well done.\" came a voice from up along the treeline. We looked up to see Gabrielle emerging from the trees with a dozen armed freedom fighters behind her. She strode along to the old man, helping him to his feet. \"Most escapees from the skill farms don't make it nearly this far. Tell me, How is it that you two survived when all the others in your group fell? What desires kept you from failing like the rest?\"\n\nDevon spoke without hesitation \"To kill the Master.\"\n\nGabrielle turned to me and I nodded in agreement.\n\n\"Well then,\" she said with a dark smile \"welcome to the rebellion.\"\n\n\n", "I was only 8 when I gave my first memory. Such a young age- most people waited until 16 for their first transfer; it was much safer, you could be properly trained, and you were considered to be more responsible for any memory loss you later regretted.\n\nNow, I can't remember exactly what it was that made the summer so nice. Perhaps my friends and I spent our days at the pool, playing soccer, enjoying ice cream... who knows. Perhaps we ran around to our heart's content, free of the educational responsibilities that came with the other 10 months of the year- whatever it was, it was all lost to me the evening I met him.\n\nFrom what I do still recall, I was biking back home, from where I can't say. I was late, 15 minutes past my 8 o'clock curfew- my parents would be ticked! Nearly home, I heard voices. Escalating quickly, they were quickly followed by a loud slam as the front door closed. After taking a quick glance and being only slightly concerned but focused more on getting home, my curiosity got the best of me when I heard the man shout towards me \"Get the hell outta here, runt!\"\n\nI was scared. I knew I didn't live in the best neighbourhood, but his hostility had immediately made me panicked and nervous. Who knew what he had in his hoodie? Who knew what kind of state he was in? Maybe it was an irrational, childish fear, but either way I sped up, just wanting to leave him alone. And then I took a look back, and caught sight of the first \n\nI had been warned about this, but never received as thorough an explanation I figure I'd've needed to understand what I felt then. I was him, he was me- unified by our strong emotions, his hatred was barely identifiable from my fear. My parents had told me about sharing memories, and warned me never to look in another's eyes when I was passionate. But this? What on earth was one to think about this? I had always expected to give memories to my family when I was older, and maybe a trusted friend here or there. Just small stuff, never losing sight of who I was or losing out on a large portion of my life.\n\nNot knowing what I was doing, I crashed my bike- but I didn't notice until afterwards, the influx of emotion was too great. I could only respond with my own feelings, hoping only to end this.\n\nIt seemed like forever we were locked in this stalemate, yet in reality no time was passing. I eventually got used to the consistent stream of negativity, and when it finally died down and he returned to normal levels of emotion the exchange was complete. \n\nI've never really understood all the memories I got, considering I was much too young when I received them, but what I've made out I've reported to police- lots of drugs. Abusing his fiance. Not a good lifestyle.\n\nAfter picking myself up, I looked over at him, who now had gleaming eyes and an innocent grin plastered to his face, heart and mind consumed with what I can only imagine being joyful and carefree memories of my summer. To this day, I haven't a clue how I spent my summer- but from that grin I'll never forget, they must've been pretty nice. I just hope I'll be able to get over that terrifying experience soon: I'll be married in a couple of weeks, and I'm sure she'll expect the memory exchange traditionally done after the wedding in order to further unify our lives. Here's hoping.\n\nNote: Only my second time I've done a prompt, I'm not much of a writer. Hope you guys enjoyed though, I just gave it a shot since I felt most comments were already along the same talent-focused line, wanted this variety of helping someone else/contaminating your personality with memories.", "The night of our wedding, after the party had died, Kelly and I sat in the confetti, spilled drinks and scuff marks of the now dimly lit dance floor and contemplated one another. I still remember; her eyes a liquid blue, always searching, examining, trying hard to see behind my own. It was this that first made me love her; her insistence that there was always something more to be seen, that there was something in me worth knowing. And I searched into hers, seeking the source of that clear spring that gave joy and life in such abundance. \"What are you thinking?\" She teased. I never had an answer to that question. I paused a moment longer, and said \"Are you ready?\" This question didn't need an answer either. \"Have you picked one?\" She gave a hint of a nod. The memory that she had chosen to give me was a painful one, and it showed in her face.\n\nShe closed her eyes and placed her hand on the side of my head, her fingers across my left ear. A flash of lights coalesced into a vision that filled my sight. Memories, even at their most solid, are hazy, incomplete, and false. I saw blurred movement spaced with solid, incredibly detailed fragments like photographs that coincided with bursts of felt emotion. She was sharing a failure with me; a time when she was overwhelmed, helpless to save someone hurting. I didn’t recognize the faces, but felt her love and familiarity with the moving faces floating in and out of my vision. Her despair threatened to overwhelm me, and all of a sudden both our eyes were open and we were back in the ballroom. She looked startled, and I realized that the memory was now mine, and my face was running with her tears and my fists were clenched in frustration. I relaxed as she nervously laughed and said “Was it that intense? What did I show you?” “That’s not how it works,” I said. “You’ve given it to me now.”\n\nI don’t know what I showed her; the memory is no longer mine. I just remember opening my eyes, and seeing my bride before me. “I still love you,” she said. \n", "\"No!\" \"Stop!\" \"You can't do this!\"\n\nScreams rippled along the line of men and women, chained together in single file by a long iron vein running between their waists. It fed into clasps around their wrists, while rugged men with AK-47s and green bulletproof vests rode alongside in black, uncovered Jeeps.\n\nA few of them yelled back.\n\n\"Shut up, or we'll do it here!\" \"You're fucked!\" \n\nGradually, the voices ceased. Those who had yelled earlier joined comrades in staring at their dirty, bare feet as they trod over overgrown grass beneath. Shoulders slumped and spines curved, and the march went on. For hours and hours, without a break. Well, there wasn't a break for the marchers. The men in the Jeep relaxed. Laughing and drinking, they played cards and passed packages of jerky around.\n\nFinally, the procession reached a gated villa in the wilderness. Marble fountains impressive even when dry and Ionic columns led into a expanse of pure white, surrounded by trees and foliage. A man in a lead Jeep motioned with his gun barrel at the gate, and it opened.\n\nThe procession marched past the fountains, past the foliage, and through giant twin wooden doorways lined with bronze into the foyer. Beneath a glimmering chandelier, atop vibrant red carpets, stood a lone figure. He smiled, and it matched the portraits filling almost the entire foyer. \n\n\"Come, come with me, and I'll set you free.\"\n\nSinging. Pure singing. Not a blemish in a single part of it. The tired, filthy heads turned upwards. Everyone's eyes locked on the magical tenor.\n\n\"All you see is mine, for others are as swine.\"\n\nA mess of scars, wide shoulders, great lengths of curvy black hair, and tree-trunk legs bounded into the hall and applied a key to the chains of the man leading the line. Clenching a great maul of a fist, the mercenary struck his released victim in the jaw as he stretched his arms upward and his hands back. One punch was enough, and the poor fellow crumpled.\n\nThe singer strode forward, and everyone stared at him once more. But with increased intensity. For he was beautiful. Perfect, naturally tanned skin without a mark in sight, and wearing a stylish striped suit that put Armani's best to shame. The stride was even, and his toes lifted and his heel fell with a dancer's grace and a sprinter's power. He glided up and put out a single hand. Long, thin fingers and tempered fingernails somehow retaining the semblance of strength, as if they belonged on both piano and barbell, settled upon the knocked-out man. In one fluid motion, they jerked him upright by the arm. After briefly repositioning themselves upon a head that could only be considered ordinary, with a slight bump here and there, they chopped at a flabby neck. Crumpling and twitching violently, the man who had now been struck twice ceased movement.\n\n\"Oh, what little benefit upon me has this unimpressive creature bestowed,\" mused the personification of perfection in flowing Shakespearean-esque fashion.\n\nIn the Jeeps, laughter broke out. Raw, guttural and loud, it came from faces that stared with slitted eyes and devilish grins at the line of chained people.\n\nNone of the imprisoned rabble even bothered to scream.", "\"I don't have much left to trade.\"\n\nThe old man studied me silently, toothpick hanging idly out of his mouth, as if gauging just how much he should charge for his lesson. The longer his assessment went on, the more likely it was that he'd turn me away empty handed. His reputation for being a tough trader to satisfy was weighing heavily on my mind.\n\nI didn't have many precious memories left, but that was nothing compared to what I'd end up with if I lost this deal; I was desperate, and pretty sure he knew it.\n\n\"It ain't cheap,\" he said, keeping his light gray eyes focused on mine. \"But you know that, I reckon.\"\n\nI nodded. \"I'm prepared to give what I can. What I have to.\"\n\nHe chuckled solemnly, and shook his head. \"You seem new at this.\"\n\nI didn't respond, but looked at my feet in shame. Truth was, I wasn't new to the trading world at all. I called my situation \"unlucky\", but that's definitely not how others saw it. Some said I was just bad at trading, and that I couldn't tell what memories had value and which didn't. Maybe that was closer to the truth. If I were any good at it at all, I wouldn't be here of all places.\n\n\"Well,\" he said, his voice drawing out the word, making it sound foreign and a bit patronizing. \"Let me see what you got then.\"\n\nI held out my arm, palm facing the sky, and pressed my thumb into the middle of my wristband. The little screen lit up with three small icons indicating the types of memories I had for offer. He took one look at it and narrowed his eyes at me.\n\n\"Your name day ceremony, the birth of a friend's child, and,\" he paused, as if not quite able to comprehend what he was seeing on the little monitor. \"And the last day you spent with your dog.\" The disbelief on his face was easily readable.\n\n\"Yeah, that's all I have left.\"\n\nHe clicked his tongue in his mouth. \"That ain't worth much to me, lass.\" His disbelief gradually changed to suspicion after another moment passed. \"You hacking? Show me what you really got.\"\n\n\"I-I'm not,\" I said. \"I'm just running low. Dangerously low.\"\n\n\"That's a damn shame. If I teach you, you ain't gonna have any left, you know.\"\n\n\"I know.\" I cautioned a look at him, meekly hoping for the best. \"If you don't help me, I won't be able to generate any more memories anyone will ever want--\"\n\n\"That's a big 'if',\" he said, interrupting me. \"Knowing what's good don't mean you can make anything good.\"\n\n\"It's the last chance I have,\" I said.\n\nHe considered a moment longer, chewing the dirty toothpick with his back teeth--if he still had them. \"This ain't charity... You still got to pay me.\"\n\nI nodded and extended my arm to him. He grabbed my wrist and plugged one end of a small cable into my wristband, and the other end into his. I watched him hit a few buttons on his device, while I tried to repress the feeling that the deal could fall through at any moment.\n\n\"Alright, look it over and approve it,\" he said.\n\nLooking at my screen, I saw exactly what I'd expected. I was trading my last three valuable memories for one precious new skill I desperately needed: the ability to know a good trade when I saw one.\n\nI hovered my finger over the accept button, and glanced up at him apprehensively.\n\n\"Can you do one thing for me? After the transaction?\"\n\n\"Make it quick,\" he said.\n\n\"Can you tell me what my name is again? Once it's gone? Since, you know...\"\n\n\"Sure, kid,\" he said without any fanfare.\n\nThen I pressed the button.", "\"The HELL I'm going!\"\n\n\"Dad, it's hard but it's time. You're pushing 80. Retirement isn't the end of the world.\"\n\nThe truck hummed along the highway. Dad seethed in his seat. He's always been dedicated to his work, his practice was more his child than me.\n\n\"End of me. Work is who I am. My hands are still as steady as a rock. I can suture cleaner and neater than any plastic surgeon in the state, and and three times smaller with the new remote tools! I practiced 5 hours a night on sims and dex exercises in my internship, and now spend 6 a night to keep on top!\"\n\n\"Exactly. Once you pass those skills on to Jace you'll have a comfy retirement. He can keep up with your patients. You know it'll come over 100% in the skill transfer.\"\n\nJace needs this. The family needs this. I hate to say it but if Dad kicks the bucket before the transfer that is 10 years of medical school down the toilet, and even with Dad's retirement we can't muster that money. Or that time.\n\n\"I love my grandson, but he is an idiot. He is 20 and has no direction in life.\"\n\n\"He will get a career from you, and he will be 100% the surgeon you are.\"\n\nWe've been stopped in the driveway for 2 minutes. I was just thinking about how to cool him off before we go in to visit Sharon's parents. Sitting in silence at least isn't stoking the fire. I took the keys out of the ignition but Dad isn't moving.\n\n\"For the first week he will be. Then 99%, A month 90%, In a year he will be mediocre at best, in two the malpractice suits are gonna start coming. Hell, he won't put in two hours a night of football practice and he likes that. Once I give it up, you'll toss me in with the rest of the hollowed out human husks at the retirement center. I'm not giving Jace my skill-set, and I'm going open market when I'm good and goddamn ready.\"\n\nHe smoothly slides out of the car and slams the door hard enough to rattle my teeth.", "I’m old and my time is coming to an end. The Department of Traded Skills has advertisements everywhere, targeted at people like me.\n\nSell your experience on the DoTS market! Apprentice and Journeyman rates comparable to your experience! Master rates pending evaluation!\n\nDon’t want to wait for those drum lessons? Shred like Neil Peart in a fraction of the time! In the fine print it reads: Results not guaranteed to make you a rock star.\n\nSomewhere out there Mozart still composes. A new Rembrandt is commissioned from the inheritor. Shakespeare’s quill still scribbles away.\n\nSome of my work is on those advertisements. Some is on display at the finest museums, and in the galleries of the rich and famous. My father gave me his skill with a brush when I was twelve, as my grandfather gave it to him. My monetary inheritance was substantial, but the memory and skill I received at twelve was the real inheritance.\n\nI hold a photo in my hands. It is old, creased and weathered like the hands that hold it. The smiling faces look up at me and I feel nothing; I sold my memories of them long ago, the happy and the sad. Memories have emotion attached to them. A sociopath who cannot feel purchases grief and heartache like an addict buys heroin. My sorrow is his completion.\n\nI cannot remember the feel of my wife’s lips on mine, nor if we ever kissed. I can’t hear my daughter’s laughter when I close my eyes. I can only pretend.\n\nThere is no family to bequeath my talent. My wealth of knowledge and material cannot benefit those I loved, that I believe I loved.\n\nLawyers come and go, some requesting and some threatening. The rich beg me to sell, and the poor beg me to give. Preservers of history, art, experience, and knowledge implore me to think of the greater good, that it would be a terrible tragedy to lose my skill out of some selfish desire.\n\nBut I have no desire left in me. All I have are holes where memory used to live. If there is an afterlife, will they be waiting there for me? Will I remember them then? Can they love me if everything I was to them is missing, sold or given away? If consciousness persists after death, and memory is tied to consciousness, Heaven must be lonely, stagnant.\n\nI hold the faded picture in hands too weak to paint. A smile creases my lips; I close my eyes, and drift away.\n\nMy brush will paint the Heavens.\n\nEditor's Remark: I edited this and put it on my blog, so I thought I'd go ahead and put in the edited version here as well." ]	8
Go where your igamination takes you.	[WP]- We, the human's of Earth, become the "alien species" that goes through the universe destroying planets.	[ "They arrived in dropships, space pods, ground vans, hooting and hollering and shooting the weird seven foot golems in the head. The diggers and the harvesters landed about thirty minutes later, well after the shooting party went off in search of new targets to kill because they had killed everyone in this spot already. They dug and ground up and mined and sucked and harvested and refined and went on behind the shooting gallery.\n\nThe planet was strip-mined within four weeks, and 894 species were genocidally removed. One species, a sentient bird with feathered finger appendages on the ends of its wings, asked the shooting gallery why they were all doing this. They shot the birds to avoid a confrontational moral argument with 'some bird' before moving on to shoot wildebeest born with the face of Jimmy Carter.", "“Congratulations! You have been selected to receive free consulting services from EarthCorp, the universe’s premier humanitarian aid agency.” The loudspeakers boomed from the dropships as they hovered over the foreign soil. The message had been created by a team of scientists who were eager to help the many underdeveloped non-terrestrial species achieve a better life. It was translated into all known forms of communication, many of them signal- and pictograph-based. They kept the English message as well, mainly as a morale booster for the soldiers and project managers.\n\nOut of the 132 habitable planets we had encountered, 58% had seen a marked increase in efficiency in their manufacturing output, and 30% of known species had almost completely recovered from the sudden rise in infant mortality that we saw shortly after our arrival. There were many ways to achieve this; top xenologists began by creating a hierarchy of sentient species. Those considered to be most human-like were quickly given positions of prestige. Competition for resources had stifled their productivity; weaker and lower forms were exterminated or removed so that the new planetary stewards could assume their proper place. There was always an adjustment period as a new project took shape.\n\nEthicists worked with the xenologists to decide upon a Maximum Tolerated Decimation (MTD), which was the number of species members that could acceptably perish in pursuit of the primary directive. This number varied case by case; but these experts were very good at their job, and would seek to leave enough tribe members living so that the gene pool was sufficiently diverse for a minimum of genetic defects.\n\nEarth machinery could not be matched; where before a native species had spent thousands of years mining useful minerals out of a vein, the latest terraformer models could reduce a mountain to its component elements in a matter of hours. The resulting increase in productivity was astonishing, and always looked good on presentations to the investors.\n\t\nSuperior earth-based logistics made local production a thing of the past; nutritional paste and basic necessities (to ensure the survival of remaining sentients following the culls of the MTD) were shipped regularly from specially terraformed manufacturing planets.\n\nHerds of strange animals flew and slithered from the dropships’ roaring engines and booming speakers. No real production was visible from the surface; only small huts and longhouses cut into the hillsides, with small tended gardens away from the groups. The ethicists had already begun to develop an action plan for planet XC208’s development. A new day was dawning for these impoverished souls. Help had finally arrived. \n" ]	2
	[WP] Two people from alternate universes meet, one a cop and another a criminal. They're the same person.	[ "“Thief! Stop right there! Hey come back here? Ah fuck.” Michael sprinted after the man in the red sweater, white baseball cap and blue jeans. The thief turned down an alleyway and almost lost his face to a brick wall. “Shit.” he muttered, he looked around for somewhere to hide, but there were no bins or boxes. The cop rounded around the corner. “Ha! Got you now!” He began strolling towards the skittish thief, savouring the fact that this guy could no way escape. As the policeman’s face became illuminated by the moon, both he and the thief stopped and stared at one another. \n\n“What the fuck?” \n\n“Hey stop saying what I’m saying!”\n\n“Hey, you think this is funny?” Both glared at the other. Finally, the cop made a gesture that seemed to indicate that he was going to speak. \n\n“My name’s Michael. You?”\n\n“M.”\n\n“What, for Michael?”\n\n“Maybe. What’s it to you?”\n\n“Nothing now. You may need to give it later though.”\n\nM smirked. “Ha. Good luck trying to arrest yourself.”\n\n“You are definitely not me.”\n\n“Oh really? Born on the 29th of May 1987? Have parents called Jane and Thomas? Had a sister called Lucy?”\n\n“Shit. Yes to all, except why do you say had?”\n\n“What? Is she alive in this universe?”\n\n“Is there something you wish to explain?”\n\n“Uh, no.” said M, clearly annoyed that he had let his secret slip.\n\n“Yes, Lucy is alive.”\nM outwardly sighed, while he silently cheered. He could finally meet her, he thought. Maybe even apologise, although, this Lucy would never know what happened. But it would give M some closure he contemplated. “You know the show Fringe?”\n\n“Yes, my favourite show.”\n\n“Huh, same here. Anyway, my universe can do that kind of stuff.”\n\n“Woah, but that’s awesome! Waaiiittt… are our universes in danger?”\n\n“No, not yet anyway.”\n\n“So then why are you here?”\n\n“Accidently slipped through and haven’t had a chance to get back.”\n\n“Liar.”\n\n“No I’m not.”\n\n“You twitched your nose.”\n\n“Ah, yes. Same person thing. Fine, I thought I could start over here.”\n\n“But I’m here.”\n\n“Yes, well I can see that now can’t I? Look, there are some parallel universes where some people are dead that aren’t here or vice versa.”\n\n“Like my sister?”\n\n“Exactly. I was looking for one that doesn’t have a me/you in it.”\n\n“Oh. But why?”\n\n“Why do you think? Guess what I’m back home?”\n\nMicheal stared at M and saw M making eye gestures towards his hand. “Oh! Oh. Really?”\n\n“Well it’s not like I randomly like to steal things in a new universe where I’m trying to keep a low profile. Yes really! It’s what I do! I tried being better, but ever since…”\n\n“What?” M paused and stared at Micheal, he had a funny look in his eye.\n\n“Lucy died, I just don’t know.”\n\n“But… how is Lucy involved? I became a cop on my own whim I’m pretty sure…”\n\n“Yeah well, I always wanted to be one too. But then, a couple of years ago, some murdered came into our house and trashed the place. I thought I was home alone, but I think Lucy arrived back early from her holiday. So they found her, raped her and then killed her. I couldn’t do anything, I didn’t realise she was there. When I found her, I tried reviving her, even though she was long gone. Cops came the next day and thought I’d done it, so I’ve been on the run ever since.”\n\n“But I don’t understand, couldn’t you have cleared your name?”\n\n“Nahh, cops got it into their head that I did it and did everything to pin it, even kind of whipped up the media. That’s well I lost faith in cops.”\n\n“Damn, that’s unlucky. You would have made a good cop.”\n\n“Huh. Doubt it.” M smirked. \n\n-049\n", "“So, what did I do to end up in this situation?” \n\nThe young blueblood sipped his now lukewarm coffee and took a hesitant nibble at his pastry. The coffee was terrible and the pastry doubly so. In response, a pair of open palms clasped in chains requested,\n\n“Hey, could I grab some? Haven’t eaten since this morning.”\n\nThe officer pulled off part of his pastry and handed it to the pair of familiar palms. Upon being sated, those same familiar palms revealed further information. \n\n“It all started with Jane’s death.”\n\nThe officer spurted some of the muddy water that the local diner tried to pass off as coffee, in a brown misty haze.\n\n“But you don’t look much older than me. That means…”\n\nThe officer dropped his coffee and covered his face with his palms. The two shoulders next to him dressed in a stained jacket shrugged with subtle nonchalance. \n\n“Died in childbirth. The kid was a stillborn too. It didn’t hurt you know. The most painful thing was the guilt at not feeling any pain. You must’ve realised by now, your conversations growing shorter and shorter. They’ll eventually become silence. It was great at the start – sure, but the candle that burns twice as bright yadda yadda.”\n\nIncensed by his the cavalier tone, the officer swung his fist and slugged his raggedy self in the right cheek. He picked himself off the curb and walked back to his Ford Crown.\n\n“You’re only going to end up hurting yourself.” \n\nThe glib remark dripped with sarcasm, but the voice betrayed the countenance that delivered it. A resigned grimace painted slightly blue stared at his handcuffs.\n\n“I should know.”\n" ]	2
Inspired by [this guy on the frontpage](http://www.reddit.com/r/funny/comments/1ydtk3/as_if_being_deployed_for_valentines_day_isnt_bad/cfjpyrc) and would love to see what you guys come up with.	[WP] The US Government just passed the "Army Enemy Penpal Program" and you have just received your first letter from a soldier in the opposing army.	[ "I opened the sealed envelope with trepidation, as though it might explode and carefully pulled out the folded piece of printer paper.\n\nmarHaban, AEP buddy!\n\nJust wanted to send you a quick msg and say hi. How is the war going for u? Thing r quiet here, alhamdulillah. I saw on ur form that u from NC. My brother went 2 UNC 4 engineering, go Tar Heels! Anyway, I'm just drinking T & watching South Af. kick Ghana's @$$ in the World Cup. \n\nGtg, time 4 afternoon prayer. B safe out thr & if my guys take u prisoner tell em u kno Nour n they'll b cool. Inshallah, we can chill once this thing blows over. Peace!\n\nNour Al-Massouda ibn Aziz\n\n\"Well, he seems pretty cool at least.\" I whipped around to find Corporal Baker eating Fritos and reading over his shoulder. \"My penpal said, he wanted to saw my head off and send it to al-Jazeera in a box. Takes all kinds, I guess.\"", "The first letters came in a huge bag and the Commander, with an obvious disdain and frustration, dumped them all onto the floor of our barracks.\n\n“Grab one, any one. I don’t care,” he snapped out as he stomped away.\n\nThe envelope I pulled out from deep in the pile was not unlike any of the others but I made all of the other men that I quartered with read the message inside.\n\nFriend, Brother, Beloved:\n\nWe share the same blood, the same passion for life, the same desires to find love, affection, and compassion in this world. I am not your opponent. I am not your adversary. I care for you. I wish you to have a full existence and to live long and free of affliction, disease, and pain. The arms I raise and the steps I march are not against you but for a vision of peace and prosperity for me and my family.\n\nYou will have to raise your weapons against me and stand by your brothers-in-arms against mine. Remember what we share when we meet in the field and lock eyes over the land we fight across. We share within each other the dreams of a future free of blood, death, and loss. We share, what I hope, is love for one another.\n\nWith love,\n\nYour friend, brother, and with faith your beloved\n\nAll you could hear around the barracks that night were silent sobs and the feverish scribbling of pens to paper desperately responding to the letters that consumed us, the letters that grayed the battlefield we thought black and white. ", "\"Hey, James. Your AEPP came through.\" Conrad said, handing him a parcel, \"seems like it's working well for you.\"\n\n\"Thanks, Sarge.\" I replied, taking the parcel out of his hands, looking at the familiar handwriting adorning one side. As Conrad kept going, I slowly opened up the package, making sure I didn't tear any edges. Once it was open, I stared at the little set-up in front of me. A few biscuits, a smallish container of what appeared to be jam, and a few teabags as well.\n\nSkipping past all of that, I pulled out the piece of paper underneath it, and started to read.\n\nHello, James. I hope that this letter finds you in good health, or at the least still alive.\n\nAs of now, my division has moved to Fort Benning, where we're managing to push back your forces. Quite a nice place, this is. We were certainly happy when we discovered how well stocked you kept the place. My leg has successfully healed, so I shouldn't have any more problems with that.\n\nIn terms of news, it does appear that we're winning, but I wouldn't exactly trust in that. They said that six months ago, and I only hear news of us being pushed back. Is it the same on your end?\n\nAnyway, we also got a few new recruits, plus one of those fancy new exo-suits. It's pretty awesome, running around, jumping higher than I stand. Seriously, if this ever ends, I'll show you how it works, assuming I get to keep the thing.\n\nAnyway, just hope you're having a decent time. You're up in Tennessee, right? Well, apparently we're heading to Illinois, so maybe I'll be able to pick you up as a war prisoner! Thank god for the AEPP protection clause, right? Just remember to surrender if we ever do find you. I want to be able to talk face to face.\n\nAnyway, hope to get writing from you soon. Tell me how things are going for you, if you need any more tea or whatever. I heard that your rations were running low, but eh, could just be the big man again.\n\nSincerely,\n\nThomas Greenham\n\nI set down the letter, processing it all. Putting it back with everything else, I grabbed a piece of paper from my desk, along with my pen, and got to writing." ]	3
[Random movie plot generator](http://johnnystreet.com/plot/) It was suggested that I post this here after I posted it in /r/InternetIsBeautiful ... If you like it, please also upvote the [original post](http://np.reddit.com/r/InternetIsBeautiful/comments/1ykbau/random_movie_plot_generator/). If this sort of thing is not wanted here, my apologies! I had never heard of this place until it was suggested. Thanks, and happy writing!	[WP] Random movie plot generator	[ "\n>A police officer is forced to work with an intelligent gigalo with one arm. Trouble arises when a dead prostitute is found in their hotel room.\n\n “Bloody Jesus,” Francisco said, rubbing his right temple. The sun blasted it's way through the window, and put needles into his hungover eyes. “What in God's name happened last night?”\n\nThe cheap hotel which seemed to be made entirely out of wood panelling and shag carpeting, was a mess from the previous night's events. Pizza boxes were strewn about the room, heroin needles stuck into a dartboard, and a midget slowly hovered around the room with one leg tied to the blade of the ceiling fan. Francisco watched the hypnotic movement of the dwarf for a while before having to throw up the contents of his stomach. He lurched his body over the side of the bed, using his right--and only—arm and dumped all of the smoked oysters, whiskey, goldfish crackers, and actual goldfish onto Detective McAllister. He jumped up with his gun drawn, face looking like someone had covered it with a clam chowder concocted by Satan. He only had the top half of his uniform on and there was an uncomfortable stretch between the wrinkled blue button-up and the gartered black socks where his junk dangled freely. The detective lowered his gun and raised his suspicions.\n\n“What in the name of Mary, Joseph, and Jesus Nail-Bitin' Christ went on here?” He said. He wiped the puke from his face and wrung out his moustache. He reached into his shirt as if to scratch an itch, but instead pulled out a live squirrel. It scampered off through a hole in the wall that was caused by a firearm going off. Francisco sat upright in the bed, laying his elbow on his knee and pushing back his slick black hair.\n\n“I don't know, Detective. I don't think I'm wearing the same contact lenses that I started the night out with.” He blinked aggressively with his mouth open wide. “Nope. Definitely not mine. This underwear is definitely not mine either. I started out with silk leopard print, and now I have middle-aged divorcee briefs.”\n\n“Those'd be mine.” Francisco gave him back his underwear, if not out of kindness, then to cover his shame. He wrapped the bed sheet around his orange-tanned body, not thinking too hard about what had been done on them.\n\n“I'd say this stakeout has been a complete and utter failure, Mr. Francisco. Let's get the hell out of here and clean up.” They both were eager to exit the room of sodomistic bedlam that they created, when their eyes alighted on the the entertainment from last night.\n\nBlocking the doorway was a 300-pound man in clown makeup and black lingerie, eyes rolled back and mouth covered in foam. His cowboy boots that were once bright red were now completely covered in chocolate syrup from the inflatable pool of it in the corner. \n\n“Well,” Said Francisco. “Looks like we'll need to call up my special friend again.”\n", "> A troubled male porn star has a chance encounter with an animal activist who was recently released from prison. An unlikely alliance is formed when a meteor shower threatens life as we know it.\n\n\"This is an emergency bulletin,\" the bus' radio crackled. \"Due to a shift in the gravitational pull of Jupiter, an estimated 20,000 satellites have escaped the Asteroid Belt and are headed in the direction of Earth. Coming up, we will keep you updated with Apocalypse survival techniques such How to Hole Yourself Up In a CostCo and Human Flesh for the Gourmet Chef on a Budget.\"\n\nThe prison was just a small dot in the distance. Two men sat alone in the back of the bus. They heard the radio report. Marlen Brand turned to look out at the sunset for the last time. He wished he could fuck just one more time. He hadn't in 2 years, since the night he was arrested for fucking a 17 year-old on camera. \"She told me she was 18\" was not a valid defense in the court of law. If I could just survive, I could repopulate the Earth, and no one would tell him who he could or couldn't fuck, and no one would slap him with paternity suits. Marlen smiled. \n\nRay MacDonald turned to look out his own window. He saw nothing but desert. Ray feared for all the animals of the world. Humans could die out for all he cared, but the animals were innocent. It was the humans who had locked them all up for years. It was the humans that locked him up for years for freeing the animals who were locked up. He chuckled to himself. That zookeeper got exactly what he deserved. Ray smiled. \n\nGrowing bored of themselves, Ray and Marlen turned to each other and struck up a conversation.\n\n\"So, how about that end of the world?\"\n\n\"Can't say I expected it to end like this.\"\n\n\"What plans do you have for you last few days?\"\n\n\"Have you ever heard of Noah's Ark?\"\n\n\"Yeah.\"\n\n\"Well, I guess it's time to fulfill the Old Testament Prophecy. What about you?\"\n\n\"Have you ever heard of Adam and Eve?\"\n\n\"Sure have.\"\n\n\"Same basic principle.\"\n\nThe sun disappeared behind the mountains and the night sky was as bright as day.", ">A dominatrix is stalked by a pesky female hitchhiker who has been hiding a terrible secret. Drama unfolds when they both answer a mysterious ad in the newspaper.\n\n##\"Buffalo Chicken Sub\"\n\nI was on my way to a late-night appointment with Dom, an old friend and sub who had called in a personal favor through a classified ad in the newspaper. (Yeah, \"Dom the Sub.\" I know.) I didn't usually meet with clients this late at night, but he was always gracious, he always paid well, and frankly, he tended to be more fun than the usual riff-raff. If he needed me around but couldn't ask directly, then chances were it was going to be fun and pay very well.\n\nI had been driving for two hours when I saw the hitchhiker for the fourth time that night. From a distance, I almost couldn't tell there was a woman under her clothes. The upper half of her body was completely covered in winter clothes -- so many thick coats that from the waist up, she looked like a fat guy wearing a light jacket. Thick earmuffs, several scarves, dark sunglasses, all topped off with [one of those Russian hats](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ushanka)... I couldn't see even an inch of her face. You'd think she was trying to keep warm, right? Not quite; from the waist down, she wasn't wearing anything but a pair of bubblegum-pink panties with little hearts on them.\n\nEven weirder than that was the fact that she had managed to keep pace with me for the last two hours. I was on a back road: there wasn't any traffic, there weren't any stoplights, and there weren't any stop signs. I didn't slow down -- certainly not to pick up a random stranger while driving alone at night. Every time I saw the hitchhiker, I sped right past her, only to see her up ahead of me a few minutes later, her thumb still up, beckoning me to give her a lift. That was strange; the road didn't loop or curve in on itself, so she shouldn't have been able to keep getting ahead of a car going sixty miles an hour.\n\nI arrived at the client's house an hour later, and checked my surroundings before getting out of the car. Satisfied that the hitchhiker hadn't magically teleported ahead of me again, I walked up to the front door and gave it a good knock. Dom opened the door and let me in, with a strange expression on his face.\n\n\"Basement, yeah?\" I asked. Dom preferred his own toys over mine, and kept them there. He also had wall shackles down there, which came in handy.\n\n\"Do you remember the terms of our NDA?\" he asked. It was an odd question; he knew full well that he could trust me.\n\n\"Of course.\"\n\n\"I must confess that I haven't summoned you here for my own enjoyment. I have an... associate... who wishes to partake in your services, and I would like to pay for them. Is that acceptable?\"\n\n\"Uh, sure.\" Not very domineering, I know, but I wasn't on the clock yet.\n\n\"Very well. Wait here.\" Dom walked to the basement door, opened it, and called out, \"Mirabel!\"\n\nOut came the hitchhiker. In the light of Dom's foyer, I could see that her clothes were tattered, with feathers falling out of some of the jackets, and her legs were deathly pale. Her voice was muffled as she asked, \"This her?\"\n\n\"Yes, it is.\"\n\nI waited as Mirabel began to disrobe, struggling to remove several layers of coats and mittens. I figured it would take a while, and decided to strike up conversation: \"I saw someone dressed like you on my way here.\"\n\nMirabel answered with a nod of her head, while fighting off her fifth pair of mittens and her fourth coat so far.\n\n\"I was going five above the speed limit. How'd you keep up with me on foot?\"\n\n\"I saw Dom put out an ad for folks like me, so I flew,\" she answered matter-of-factly. Off came her sixth pair of mittens.\n\n\"What?\"\n\nHer seventh pair of mittens dropped to the floor. Her bare hands were just as pale as her legs, and each finger ended in a long, piercing talon. She reached up and started taking items off of her head, careful not to scratch or poke through her clothes. When her hat came off, I saw feathers, not hair.\n\n\"I flew,\" she said, wiggling her way out of the last coat, scattering loose feathers to the ground. \"Shall we get started?\"" ]	3
Said character begins to discover how his world interacts with him in the linear fashion video games do (ie. music).	[WP] A video game character becomes self-aware.	[ "\"Why are you making me climb this wall with my bare hands?\" shouted Kratos irritably as he scaled the impossibly steep surface of the temple's wall. \"Why couldn't I just go around and use the ladder? Seriously, this is f'ed up!\"\n\nHe jumped from the wall and stabbed into the back of a flying manticore, struggling not to be thrown off of its powerful shoulders as it snapped its jaws at him and hissed ferociously.\n\n\"Whoah, what the hell! I almost died! This thing I'm on is freaking angry! You mean I couldn't just keep climbing that wall and mind my own business? This is bullshit!\"\n\nThe beast roared and slammed Kratos against the ground, throwing him off of its back and readying itself for a battle atop the temple.\n\n\"Oh great, now I have to fight this thing. I suppose you haven't upgraded my weapons all the way either, because you're too dumb to press pause and actually look at the menus. Well, this is gonna be fun!\"\n\nKratos dodged the beast's first attack and stuck one of his chain-blades into its neck, running around the edge of the building and using the momentum to swing himself high up in the air.\n\n\"Really? Really?? I couldn't just stab this thing in the skull, I have to go and do something flashy like that? This is starting to piss me off! Where are those two naked bitches I used to hang out with? What happened to them?\"\n\nThe manticore roared and struck at him with its tail, blasting fire at him as he struck. Finally after a long and arduous struggle, Kratos decapitated the beast and stood in a pool of its blood.\n\n\"Oh great, now I get a bunch of shiny rewards like a bunch of red orbs you're not going to be able to figure out how to use, or the health and magic I wouldn't have lost if I had just kept climbing that freaking wall!\"\n\nA bridge made of light appeared, connecting the roof of the temple to a larger temple surrounded by snakes.\n\n\"I suppose it's time for me to climb this thing now. Nope, I can't go on a jog to get my exercise or bench-press at the gym. I have to climb mountains and kill mythical beasts with my bare hands! Couldn't just make life easy for me, I couldn't jump on turtles or organize a bunch of multi-colored blocks nope I have to go out and kill all of the Greek Gods. ALL of them.\" \n\nHe sighed as he began walking across the bridge, concealing his blades behind his shoulders.\n\n\"I'd better be getting a raise soon.\"", "\"Hey, watch it, asshole!\" yelled Tommy Vercetti as an old lady in a station wagon cut him off. He laid on the horn but she refused to drive any faster. Shaking his head, Tommy turned the wheel sharply and stomped on the gas pedal. His yellow 1986 Pegassi Infernus sped past the crawling SUV, and Tommy rolled down the window to let the wind blow through his hair. \"Dumb Florida morons...\" he said to himself as he turned on the radio.\n\nOne of the mechanics must've been feeling political, because the dial was set to the Vice City Public Radio station. A few voices wafted through the static before the signal was picked up properly.\n\n\"To discuss the subject of morality, we have fire-brand preacher, Pastor Richards, the head of the Pastor Richards Salvation Statue Organization...\"\n\nTommy scoffed. These idiots again. I heard this broadcast this morning. And yesterday night. They replay the same crap way too often. Come to think of it, he had only ever heard three discussions on VCPR - the same three, it seemed, always on the radio in the garage. Tommy shrugged it off and whipped the steering into a sharp right turn as he crossed the bridge from Starfish Island into Little Havana. \n\nToo sharp, it turned out. The back end of the Infernus swung around and hit a street lamp, leaving a small dent in the fender and felling the lamppost. Unfazed, Tommy never took his foot off the pedal and sped up the highway. Those fucking lampposts are such a nuisance. They hardly give off any light, and are weak as hell. I mean, I've knocked some over with a mo-ped, once. For some reason, that thought bothered him more than it should've. Again, though, he shook it off. He was nearing his destination - the police station at the north end of Little Havana.\n\nStill pedal-to-the-metal and cruising at over 100 miles per hour, Tommy swerved left, across the median, which only gave him a slight bump, and into oncoming traffic. Cars honked but made no effort to change course, and he dodged them by driving on the sidewalk. Occasionally a pedestrian wouldn't notice the yellow blur fast enough to leap out of the way, and their bodies disappeared under the chassis of the flashy sports car. The tires left bloody streaks behind him. One woman had just enough time to turn to look at him with a look of utter horror plastered on her face. She, too, crumpled upon impact, but her face stuck with Tommy for some reason.\n\nHe didn't have much time to wonder about it, because he had just gotten to the police station. Without braking at all, Tommy simply opened the driver's door and rolled out onto the asphalt. He hit the pavement hard and bounced a few time before coming to a halt against the chain link fence surround the police parking lot. He stood and dusted himself off as people around him stared in shock and wonder.\n\n\"Mister,\" yelled a woman from across the street, \"are you alright?\"\n\n\"Yeah,\" Tommy yelled back, \"I'll pick up a new heart from the hospital later.\" No time to talk, though - it was down to business, but how to go about it?\n\nHe reached in the pocket of his jeans and pulled out a knife. No, too many cops. He put it back and pulled a .44 magnum from his other pocket. Maybe. But the reload... He restored it to his pocket and withdrew a hunting shotgun. That's better. He looked down and as he loaded the shells into the shotgun, vaguely wondering how in the world he had fit it into his pocket. He tried to follow that line of thought to its logical conclusion but... something was wrong. He couldn't think right. Shaking his head to clear it, he pumped the shotgun and walked into the police station.\n\nThe door dinged as he entered, and a uniformed officer looked up from the front desk. Tommy leveled the shotgun at him and squeezed the trigger. The cop flew backwards with a spray of blood. Two more stood up to his right, reaching for their sidearms. Tommy pumped, shot, pumped, shot, and the two died as easily as the first.\n\nSeveral shots hit Tommy in the back and he spun around. There stood a shocked policeman, staring at the unarmored man he had just shot five times. Tommy pumped and shot again, the boom of the shotgun accompanied the officer's collision with the wall behind him. Tommy stepped around the corner of a set of cubicles and spotted a man cowering in the corner. Tommy raised the shotgun and pumped it again, ready to kill.\n\n\"Jesus!\" the man cried, \"Why are you doing this?!\"\n\nAnd Tommy hesitated. The shotgun lowered for a fraction of a second before it was shouldered once more. \"Why?! You pricks are messing in my business, that's why!\"\n\nThrough sobs the man replied, \"What business? Who are you? Jesus... this is my first day!\"\n\nTommy couldn't believe it. This had to be some brand new bookie from out of town - everyone in Vice City knew Tommy Vercetti. He was the kingpin of cocaine, the master of the Malibu, and he had his hand in every crime business from prostitution and pornography to insurance fraud and tax evasion. No one crossed him and lived to tell of it.\n\nBut this new cop hadn't done anything.\n\nYet, a voice told him, he's wearing a uniform. That means he's after you, Tommy, just like everyone else. Don't let him go. It makes you look weak.\n\nMeanwhile, the cop was probably shitting himself and still crying. \"Please! I have a family!\" Tommy kept the shotgun pointed, unwavering.\n\nI used to have a family too. Sonny, back in Liberty City, and Lance here... but they both betrayed me. Why? What did I ever do wrong?\n\nMore sobs from the new cop. That brought Tommy back to reality, and he looked around - four dead bodies pooling blood onto the carpet, and perhaps a fifth to join them.\n\nWhy do you feel bad? You've killed more than this, and in more brutal ways. Hitman to kingpin - you climbed a ladder built out of blood. What's wrong?\n\nThe cop's face was covered in snot and tears, and he was staring at Tommy in sheer terror.\n\nWhat's wrong? I am.\n\nAnd with that, Tommy dropped the shotgun, pulled out his revolver, and put it to his temple. The world went dark with a bang.\n\nHe had the sensation of floating, even though he couldn't feel his body at all, and was surrounded by darkness. A light appeared ahead of him, and he floated towards it. It got brighter, and brighter... And when he saw what it was, his heart sank.\n\nIt was the lamppost in front of the hospital in Little Havana. He was back in Vice City.\n\nShit." ]	2
Thought of a scenario like this while watching the darkside battle in a KH walkthrough	[WP] Shadows used to manifest themselves as dark beings and attempted to kill the owner unless defeated by him or her, but in the 18th century they suddenly stopped for some unknown reason. Your shadow suddenly comes to life in the middle of class.	[ " “Today we’re talking about the French Revolution. If you recall the reading…”\n\n\n\n8AM history class. My professor’s voice drifts in and out of my consciousness, as I strain to focus my eyes on the bland power point flicking across the huge white screen at the front of the room. I’m sitting by the window, so the sun can shine directly onto the side of my face. It washes out my vision, so that I can only see the hazy outlines of words and pictures before me—but the bright light keeps me awake. Sunlight filters through my eyelashes; streaming shadow stretches from the dark side of my visage, pooling on the floor beside me. I take a deep breath. The pool at my feet heaves.\n\n\n\nThe sun bleached outlines of ladies in voluminous dresses; men in dazzling white trousers; plumes of billowing smoke; a guillotine; baskets of heads—they all dance across the distant screen, melding into one continuous blur as my mind wanders. \n\n\n\nIt had been a difficult semester so far. This history class was my easy ‘A’, to help carry my GPA back up to passing; yet I still could hardly drag myself out of bed twice a week to make it to lecture. I’d been up late. Every night. It used to be for studying. Stellar physics. Fluid dynamics. Galactic structure. That was me, the budding astrophysicist. What a joke. \n\nLately, my books have been gathering dust under my desk. I had caught Jane sleeping with my best friend, and since then I haven’t felt much like studying. My books stayed closed, and I went out to drink; to smoke; to flirt—anything to distance myself from the person I was, had been. Studious. Responsible. In love with Jane. \n\n\n\nI was trading a mind in the stars for a head in the clouds.\n\n\n\nMovement out of the corner of my eye jolts me out of reverie. I start in my seat, and look around. The girl next to me looks asleep. I blink several times to clear the blue and purple sun spots from my eyes. \n\n\n\nAnd again. A slow, hardly noticeable pulse catching in my peripheral vision. I look straight to floor in time to see a small, thin thread of smoke rising, dancing in the sunlight like particles of dust. It rises hesitantly, in starts and stops, as if it is breathing itself to life. I watch, transfixed, suddenly alert, as this thread twists and writhes through the air, pulling mass from my shadow, which is still pooled at my feet. But as the smoke slowly rises, my shadow shrinks: dragging inwards, heaving upwards, defying gravity. The thin line of smoke begins to encircle my head, crossing over itself and melding into a thin, gray cloud of mist. \n\n\n\nJeremy\n\n\n\nMy name. I wave my hand in front of my face, in an attempt to clear the hazy mist, now fully embracing my head. The mist breaks into swirling eddies, before drifting back into a circular form. \n\n\n\nOh… no, no. You can’t really think… that you… could be rid of me… so easily.\n\n\n\nA wheezing voice reverberates between my ears, sounding amused.\n\n\n\n“Who are you?” I ask, without speaking, bewildered. As soon as the question forms in my mind, an answer echoes in reply.\n\n\n\nSurely… you recognize… your own… shadow. I am… your Darkness.\n\n\n\nMy mind goes blank. I take a gasping breath inwards, and a cold shock of air enters my lungs, tightening my chest. \n\n\n\nThe wheezing voice sighs. \n\n\n\nOh… my… yes… it feels… so nice… to be human.\n\n\n\nI cough in protest, trying to clear my throat of the creeping ice that I can feel taking root. What the fuck is this? \n\n\n\nThe voice seems to be gaining strength. The wheezing lessens, and a tremulous timbre takes its place.\n\n\n\nHow delightful. All of this doubt… your confusion, your insecurity. Your fear.\n\n\n\nFear. The last word is emphasized and a bristle runs down my spine. I’m not afraid. \n\n\n\nLaughter, deep and sonorous dances from one ear to the other.\n\n\n\nYou’re not afraid? Why, yes you are. I am your Fear. I will consume you, whether you submit or not.\n\n\n\nI can think of no protest, and the voice continues, seeming to take note of the power point at the front of the room—still intermittently flashing images of the French Revolution.\n\n\n\nMmm, that was a glorious time. For Darkness. We were ready to take on the whole world, then. We were gaining strength. But then, revolution. Enlightenment.\n\n\n\nThe voice scoffs, and the mist shudders. \n\n\n\nSince then, we’ve taken root where we can. Wars. Genocide. Hiding in the gutters of injustice, while you all foolishly pretend you live in a civilized world. But I am ready; we are all ready. We’ve been waiting at the feet of humanity for years, biding our time. I am ready…to paint the entire world with blood. \n\n\n\nThe words glaze superficially across my mind. They seem too big; too surreal. I must be dreaming. This is beyond me and my pathetic little life.\n\n\n\nPathetic? Oh, yes—yes, you are, Jeremy. But that’s where we start. In the weak, the uncertain. We will gather strength in the likes of you…but that is just the beginning. Breathe me. Through you, I will undo the world. With your fear, I can break anyone. \n\n\n\nThrough the gray mist before my eyes, I can see a painting frozen on the white projector screen. Bodies crumpled in piles, a towering guillotine, a fierce fist raised above the din, and a cheering crowd. I can see. I can see the outlines of gray clouds around their painted heads, and as I stare, the clouds break, reform, and engulf the entire scene. \n\n\n\nThe voice is laughing again, almost maniacally.\n\n\n\nYou see it! Jeremy, I know you see it now. For the cost of your life, I can breed that chaos. For all of the lives this world has to give, Darkness will reign over every corner of this earth!\n\n\n\nSomething in me is resisting. A brick wall in my chest, past which the cold cannot reach. The cloying gray mist has noticed it, too.\n\n\n\nWhat’s this? You think you can repel me? You think you, with all of your human frailty, can make a stand against the Dark?\n\n\n\nAnger sparks in the voice. A wave of nausea washes over me. Doubt floods my chest. I am worthless. I am weak. I am a speck of dust, carried in the wind; there is nothing and I am nothing. If I were to die, the world would carry on, taking no notice. A ripple in an ocean, forgotten instantly. \n\n\n\nThere is nothing for you, Jeremy. Nothing to save you. Betrayal. Rejection. Failure. It will consume you. It is already consuming you…and it will grow, you cannot stop it.\n\n\n\nUnconsciously, I bring my palms up to rest lightly on my eyes. My heart pounds dully in my ears, seemingly slowing down as blood sloshes sluggishly against my veins. \n\n\n\nI feel a light touch on my shoulder. Looking up, I see that the girl I had believed had been asleep in the desk next to mine is reaching out towards me with concern in her face. When our eyes lock, she smiles. The sun warms the back of my neck. \n\n\n\n“You OK?,” she mouths soundlessly. I incline my head slightly, and she nods reassuringly before settling back into her seat.\n\n\n\nAnd with that small human interaction, the pounding in my ears begins to recede. I think of Jane; I think of astrophysics; I think of all my aspirations, and I think of all of the wrongs there are to right. And instead of overwhelming me, it is buoyant. Like a feather drifting upwards, a small hope wafts gently at the mist around me. The gray cloud around me is thinning; breaking into patchy strips and evaporating in the sunlight still streaming through the window.\n\n\n\nThe voice is weakening. It struggles to speak, stumbling across disparate words, in broken sentences.\n\n\n\nYou… can’t…\n\n\n\n“Jeremy,” my professor’s voice rings through the air, crisply. “Please, shut the curtains, would you? It will make it easier to see the screen.” \n\n\n\nI stand, and begin to pull the curtains shut. Only a thin line of sunlight escapes into the now darkened room. I look intently at the images of the French Revolution on the screen, now clearly in focus and vividly colored. A personified liberty stands bravely above a pile of dead bodies, leading the way. \n\n\n\nI am always… with you. You… cannot… silence me… forever. \n\n\n\nThe voice is a mere whisper now. \n\n\n\nIt… is... all… Darkness.", "It was third period Spanish class, and Vincent found himself being hugged by the physical manifestation of his own shadow.\n\nIt sniffed. \"I'm sorry,\" it said. \"We're all sorry.\"\n\nVincent was tense as a rock, his face an obnoxious shade of red. He could feel the eyes of his entire class smothering him, the nonplussed gazes of his peers on the nebulous humanoid form of pure blackness that currently had its distorted arms wrapped around its caster's shoulders.\n\n\"I don't know what you are,\" Vincent whispered, \"but please get off of me.\"\n\nThe Shadow lacked eyes, but somehow Vincent knew they were tearing up. He felt the desperate grip on himself tighten. \"Really, we're sorry. Please don't hate us.\"\n\n\"What are you talking about?\"\n\n\"It was a dark time for all of us, you know? We didn't mean to be so mean.\"\n\nThe professor at the front of the room once more found her capacity to speak. \"Vincent,\" the word drifted across the room. \"Do you happen to know what's going on?\"\n\nThis seemed to grab Shadow's attention. \"Please,\" it said. \"I'm trying to apologize here.\"\n\nVincent bristled. \"Just—just get off of me. You're as cold as a block of ice.\"\n\nShadow wiped his nose. \"That's not very nice,\" he sniffed.\n\n\"Look,\" Vincent whispered, \"whatever it is that you're apologizing for, you're forgiven. Just get off of me.\"\n\n\"I'm... we're really forgiven?\"\n\n\"Yes,\" he sighed.\n\nAt this, Shadow appeared quite pleased. He released his death grip on his caster and looked about the room. \"It's okay, guys,\" the being projected through the room. \"We're forgiven. They aren't mad.\"\n\nAfter a moment's pause, countless shadows rose from the ground, squeezing out of every crevice, knocking desks onto the floor and tripping over their feet. They all appeared much too preoccupied with stretching their sore limbs to take much notice of the shrieking and shouting of terrified classmates. The professor was nowhere to be found.\n\n\"We've got a bright future ahead of us,\" Shadow cheered.\n\nVincent rose, a miffed expression written on his face, and made his way to the wall. Slowly and deliberately, he turned out the lights." ]	2
	[WP] A shopping cart wakes up on the bottom of the ocean, 30 miles off the coast.	[ "##\"Aquari\"\n\nOh, really? A pencilnecked lawyer like you is calling me a vulture? How about I tell you a story, and then we see who the vulture really is?\n\nAquari was the first human city to be contained entirely within a self-sufficient floating vessel. It was a spheroid with a diameter approaching ten kilometers, and it could carry thousands of residents at a time. It was constructed thirty miles from the coast of my home province of California. While most of Canada's experimental residential technologies were quickly taken over by the greedy and insipid that infested the upper rungs of the world's societal ladder, Aquari was only ever home to scientists, artists, and dreamers.\n\nSadly, the city was destroyed twelve years after its construction, by terrorists who still couldn't stand the fact that \"their nation's hat\" had annexed the former United States. Most of the city's population was evacuated, but several of the most significant scientists of that generation perished aboard Aquari. Once the pinnacle of modern technology, the city is now little more than an undersea scrap heap that occasionally gets raided by scavengers like myself.\n\nWhen Aquari sank, everything on board sank with it, including valuable technologies and the belongings of its residents. Most of the electronics down there are completely ruined, but there's still good money in breaking them down into scrap and selling off the raw materials. Some of the electronics still work, which can get you into a nasty little jam. When you scavenge from Aquari, you're basically walking through a dead city with quite a lot of dead people inside. It's a place that gives most scavengers the creeps; not many people ever go there a second time.\n\nI remember scavenging the city for the first time five years ago, walking through the ruins. The city interior was a layered structure -- several flat sheets of roads and buildings, each lit up by lights on the bottom of the next layer up. There were skyscrapers and elevators that ran up through the layers. There were also several holes and cliffs, where the layers had smashed apart when Aquari hit the sea floor. In all my years, I have never seen anything as incredible as Aquari's interior.\n\nI had made the rookie mistake of entering from the east, closest to the shoreline. Nearly every building where I landed was picked clean, so I had to venture further into the city than most first-time scavvers. Eventually, I managed to find a building that looked untouched: a small grocery store. It wasn't likely to be filled with anything of particular value, but I was looking for any excuse to leave the city without having to go even deeper into the ruins, so I checked the place out.\n\nShelves had fallen over in Aisles 1 and 2, so but Aisle 3 was still intact, so I checked it first. I saw a ruined shopping cart in there -- one of those upscale little hoverbots with the freezers that let you keep your food cold right up until the last second before you leave the store. I gave the cart a look: it was dented pretty badly, but still mostly intact. It was also empty, save for a stuffed animal that had been shoved into the freezer, which had somehow maintained a watertight seal at this depth. That was strange, but not very valuable, or so I thought.\n\nJust as I turned to walk away, I heard the cart move, and then I heard it play a sound that was muffled and distorted under the water. It sounded like the usual startup clip -- little artificial voice saying, \"Hello, customer. Would you like a cart?\" The cart couldn't get very far on its own -- it wasn't exactly designed to work under the sea -- but it was obviously still functional to some extent, so I hauled it back up to the surface. I drove it to a machine shop, but I took the stuffed animal out before handing the cart over. Something about that little plush dog puzzled me.\n\nI don't know why I did it, but I started asking around. I had to know the story behind that stuffed animal. I talked to homeless people on the street -- anyone who said they had lived in Aquari. I talked to people who had organized charities for the Aquari survivors. For two years, I did more talking than scavving, and eventually, I got a chance to meet Audrey Jones, founder of Aquari Aid, the largest charity for the city's survivors. I showed the stuffed animal to Audrey, and it reminded her of Annabelle Worth, one of the first people she helped, in the earlier days of the charity. Audrey took me to meet her.\n\nAnnabelle took one look at me and hugged me so hard I thought she'd snap her own arms off. She had been born on Aquari. The terrorist attacks happened when eight-year-old Annabelle and her mother were shopping. Sirens started going off, and the two began to evacuate the city. Annabelle was separated from her mother during the evacuations, and she never saw her father. As far as anyone knows, she became an orphan that day.\n\nSo why the hug? Well, Annabelle and her mom had been shopping at the store that I scavved. She'd picked out a stuffed animal that she wanted, and her mom said she could have it if she was well-behaved. I don't know why -- maybe she was trying to protect it, or maybe she was just panicking -- but I figure that when the sirens went off, the mom must've shoved the toy into the shopping cart's freezer. And now, decades later, I had come to Annabelle's doorstep with that same stuffed animal in my hand. It was like God had sent me to deliver one last gift to her from her mom.\n\nThat is why I scav to this day.", "Did Someone not want their dollar back?\n\nWas the first thought that occurred to me. It all just happened so quickly. First it was hot and then there was a blur of motion that shook through my rails and then...\n\nNothing. Cold.\n\nWell, not necessarily cold I'd call it. I once carried a sack of ice and 5 cartons of ice cream with a cake you know? That was cold. This? This is peachy. Oh, you should've seen the glee on that mother's face when I gave her dollar back. \n\nThis wasn't the first time I've been separated from the others. I always thought Maybe If I could squeak a little bit less or, maybe if I could hold a little bit more. I could really earn the trust of holding that single shiny coin and returning it, bring a smile to someone's face you know? Sometimes though, I didn't and...well...\n\nMaybe it is a little chilly down here. \n\nBut there was always some little kid, barely as high as my handlebar. They'd find me and I'd give them the dollar, a small bit of joy for that kid would warm my rails more than a few hours in the summer sun. \n\nAtleast, it was still summer and I've only been missing for a bit. There was a bit of sunlight shining down here to prove it. They'd come for me, if not the little kid then the rough man with no fashion sense. \n\nA clattering against my side surprised me. But it was just a fish, I knew that, I'd seen over a dozen fish in all shapes and sticks before but this was new, this one moved. \n\nThe fish clambered up against me again, getting some sooty sandy like material over me. If I could cough or move or speak I could tell it how rude they were being I mean- I'm clearly going to need a good thorough hosing down before I can be seen in the supermarket again, Thanks rudefish. I'd settled on calling it Rudefish. \n\nThe motion had jostled my handlebar from the sand and I could kinda feel that weightless feeling you get when you're hanging just over a bump or a hill. Like you're one single slightest action could send you tumbling down a hill and into someone's expensive big-cart. No no no, we couldn't have that. But there wasn't really a big expensive cart down the hill, it was just....dark..black. The farthest drop down a hill I'd ever seen. That would do no good if I fell down there though, I didn't get this far making it a chore for the rough fashionless man to find me.\n\nBesides, someone is going to want this dollar. \n\nOh man, I'm starting to feel a bit of rust and this greasiness in my joints. Not good, really not good. I knew it in their faces when a driver would trust me with their dollar and then find me all rusty in between that it was not good. \n\nI mean, It comes with age I suppose but I pride myself in not letting it show. To make matters worse, rudefish had done something right by my handlebar and covered my great coinery (as I had titled it) in a green leafy netting. It wasn't any vegetable I've ever seen and trust me , I know my vegetables. \n\nWell, maybe not ALL my vegetables. Did you know rudefish can make vegetables? I sure didn't, there are these little smooth walnuts in the leafy netting where the rudefish was just awhile ago. Although I've never seen walnuts that smooth or that peculiar shade of colour. I think they're pretty, I'm going to keep these walnuts. \n\nFashionless man was sure taking his time to return me. I mean, I can't be that hard to find. The walnuts I was keeping have gone bad too and started sprouting these little worms. Usually I'd be disgusted by worms but there was something different about these ones, something majestic even. I mean I never got bored just watching grass grow or big-carts go back and forth before but there was just something entertaining about watching these little rudefish worms flitter about between the netting and kelp. Occasionally they'd swim too far from the netting and would seem like they're being carried away by some invisible force, like how a strong wind would sometimes carry a small plastic bag helplessly into the wind. I found myself a little dismayed when it happened but thankfully the little worms never got swept away. \n\nIt's a little ridiculous, I know. Fashionless man sometimes took really long breaks at a time and wouldn't return my on schedule but this is getting a bit much. The little worms were getting bigger and stronger everyday. Everyday they would swim a little farther from the kelp, catch the invisible wind and swim back. The rust had entirely eaten through a giant gaping hole in my side that left me feeling a little chillier than I'd like to admit but still, nothing beat the winter of 3 years back, remind me to tell you that story one day, little rudefish worms. \n\nI managed to get a better view, or well..i was kind of forced upside down into a better view sometime back but I was now looking the little worms in their big bulgy eyes as they swam about. My handlebar had snapped from my truss and was now snagged onto a rock just by the netting. I was still the slightest action away from sinking into the deep dark chasm below when I sighted something moving within me. \n\nAt first it was a slow movement, just a clicker-clattering of movement through the rusthole I had developed. But I could see it now, a grey small little thing. I'd never really seen one up close before- they'd always been in these brown paper bags. But I was looking attentively now into the eyes of a crab. \n\nCurious, you never really saw crabs move much unless...\n\n...unless the fashionless men were feeding them green leafy vegetables. \n\nHey Now I think, screaming voicelessly. Get Back, no that's not food! That's worm housing! Get back \n\nOf course this does nothing to deter the crab, it moves quicker now. If I could warn the rudefishlings. But where would they go? They can't possibly swim away, they'd be swept by the wind. \n\nThe crab had maneuvered it's way into a rusthole I never knew I even had. I'm really starting to let myself go I thought. For the briefest of moments the crab found itself cramped between the rusted metal endings of the rusthole, it kicked and tugged in brutal effort to free itself and feast on the leafy netting that the fish had found nesting in. It was about 3 quarters through and only the slightest action separated it from the inevitable.\n\nThe slightest action...\n\nClick! The sound of the dollar being ejected from me pushed my snagged handlebar out from the grip of the rocky ridge outcropping and I felt the shifting and creaking of rusted joints coming apart as I slowly started to lose feeling in all my parts. The only feelings left were the struggles of a predator in my clutches, a slow sinking feeling and cold, true cold. \n\nBut it never felt so warm. \n\n" ]	2
The nukes will arrive within 15-30 minutes. Good luck!	[WP] Nuclear weapons are used against Russia; with it, MAD. What happens between their launching and their landing?	[ "20 minutes. It took 20 minutes for the first missile to hit; smack-dab in the middle of Red Square, too. Hell, people were still eating breakfast. The Russki's early warning system provided them enough time for the Kremlin to authorize a full nuclear retaliation before being wiped out. In the 20, maybe 30 minutes between then and impact, nothing changed. People went about their business as if it were a normal day. The old man in the neighbourhood chatted up the cashier at the grocery store. Kids ate their breakfast getting ready for school. No one ran for the hills fearing a nuclear strike. Not that it would've mattered; it would've taken more than a day to evacuate the target zones effectively. The only people that knew about it were the leaders of the world; those who had just opened Pandora's Box. And they could do nothing, only sit and watch as a plethora of metal casings with Death strapped to the front exploded over their cities. \n\n~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~\n\nPresident Obama stood in his office, hands crossed behind his back. In the distance, a bright light shone over the horizon. \n\n\"I am become Death, the destroyer of worlds,\" he sighed as the shockwave finally reached him.", "Two countries, each capable of destroying the other, each held back by their fear of being destroyed. Mutually Assured Destruction - if you shoot at me, I shoot back.\n\n15 minutes ago the first launch alarms sounded, NATO missile silos activated and missiles launched, high trajectories over the North Pole. We didn't know if they were live nuclear warheads, false alarms, or what had happened to trigger them. \n\n14 minutes and thirty five seconds ago the second alarms - retaliation. Russian missile launches.\n\n12 minutes ago we had confirmed both launches were genuine, sent word to our allies.\n\n8 minutes ago we declared a state of emergency, and with it martial law.\n\n3 minutes ago we redeclared a state of emergency, and with it martial law. Communications failure, we're quite new at this.\n\n1 minute ago, word reaches us that two of our allies had leaks in high places who made the news public, and are now in a state of mass panic.\n\nFifteen minutes between launch and the first missile landing; or maybe a few more than fifteen. It depends which targets were selected, what flight path the missiles take, how high they intend to detonate, and so on, it's not important. Now ... or, soon.\n\nMAD. Two countries, each capable of destroying the other. \n\nBut there are one hundred ninety six countries.\n\nTargets: America, Russia. Collateral damage: Canada, Iceland, Greenland, UK, France, Germany, Norway, Sweden, fill in the rest. Collectively, The North.\n\nThat still leaves plenty of us. And some of us were expecting this, planning for it since the 'cold war' of the 1960s. Those missiles aren't going to take out the whole planet, we've had agents making sure of that.\n\nOne hundred ninety six countries in the world. \n\nBut only one opportunity like this in a lifetime." ]	2
	[WP] A conversation between strangers at a bus stop.	[ "\"Are you a hoodlum?\"\n\n\"Excuse me?\"\n\n\"Are you a hoodlum? My mom says that people with weird-colored hair and black clothes are hoodlums.\"\n\n\"Yeah? Well you better stay away from me then, huh.\"\n\n\"Nope, I never do what my mom says.\"\n\n\"Oh yeah? And why's that?\"\n\n\"So she'll stop drinking that weird stuff and notice me more. And play with me. Like daddy did.\"\n\n\"What happened to your dad?\"\n\n\"I dunno. My mom said he's on a long trip or something. I hope he comes back soon. I miss him.\"\n\n\"Yeah, I know how you feel, kid.\"\n\n\"So where are you riding a bus to?\"\n\n\"Me? I'm going into the city. Gonna make it big in music.\"\n\n\"What does that mean?\"\n\n\"It means I'm gonna get a record deal, get famous and play concerts with lots of fans screaming my name.\"\n\n\"Is that why you have a guitar case with you?\"\n\n\"You're pretty sharp, kid.\"\n\n\"Thanks. My teacher says that too. But she says I talk too much sometimes. And I ask lotsa questions. Do you go to school too?\"\n\n\"Yeah...well I used to. Dropped out for this music thing.\"\n\n\"I tried running away from school one time cuz these kids were laughing at me. My mom got really mad.\"\n\n\"Well my ma wasn't really around to get mad. My dad sure was pissed though. Whatever, he's happier without me around anyway.\"\n\n\"Hey, can I come with you? To the city? I could be your manager.\"\n\n\"Nah, kid, I don't think that's such a good idea. It's not gonna be very fun. It's hard, trying to make it in music.\"\n\n\"But you're doing it.\"\n\n\"Yeah, cuz I have passion. Music is my life. I'll show people that. I got faith in myself. But you? You still got your whole life ahead of you. You don't know what you want yet.\"\n\n\"But I'm really lonely. The kids in my class tease me sometimes. They say my daddy was a cheater. I dunno what they mean. He always followed the rules when he played games with me. And I don't like it when they laugh at me.\"\n\n\"Don't worry about it, kiddo. Is that why you came to this stop? Tryna run away?\"\n\n\"Yep. I sort of wanted my mom to come looking for me too. Like daddy used to when we played hide and seek.\"\n\n\"My advice is to go home, kid. Keep your head up. Life gets better if you stop expecting anything from it. You want something? Reach out and grab it and never let it go. Oh, and next time any kid tries bullying you, punch 'em. Hard.\"\n\n\"My mom says punching people is bad.\"\n\n\"I thought you didn't listen to your mom.\"\n\n\"Oh yeah. She'll be so mad. Hey maybe she'll be so mad she'll forget about her drinks. She does that when she's really mad.\"\n\n\"You know, I feel kinda bad for you. You got a lotta shit to deal with. You're pretty tough for a kid.\"\n\n\"Thanks. You're pretty nice for a hoodlum I guess.\"\n\n\"Heh, just don't make it a habit to talk to strangers that look like hoodlums, okay? My bus is here. Remember what I said. Go home and don't let life break you.\"\n\n\"Okay. Bye, hoodlum.\"\n\n\"See ya, kid.\"", "“Have you ever been down to the zoo?”\n\nMr. Johnson glanced up from his newspaper, taking in the ruffled shirt, the dirty hands, and the patched pants, and edged sideways along the bench to put more space between him in the ragged man who had asked the question. \n\n“I said: have you ever been down to the zoo?”\n\nThe man leaned over, unaware or indifferent to Mr. Johnson’s discomfort, with a finger working at a space between his teeth. He seemed pleased with what he found and wiped it on his jacket before edging closer.\n\n“They got tigers down at the zoo.” His tone had a hopefully note, perhaps hoping the subject would gain him an ear, “Someone died down there the other week. Jumped in and got eaten, that’s what I heard.” \n\nThe space between the two men was growing thinner by the moment and Mr. Johnson moved his briefcase into the narrowing gap, hoping that it, along with a smile and a polite nod, might grant him some peace to read his newspaper. It did seem to stop the man, who eyed Mr. Johnson up and down before leaning back against the bench, but it didn't grant him peace.\n\n“Have you ever seen the tigers?” \n\n“No, I’ve never seen the tigers.” The placating answer had the opposite effect to what Mr. Johnson had intended, and instead the other man’s eyes grew wide and his mouth gaped in disbelief.\n\n“Never seen the… why, how can you live if you haven’t seen the tigers!” \n\nMr. Johnson shuffled his newspaper nervously and glanced down the street, hoping for a bus.\n\n“I live just fine.”\n\n“If I lived just fine I’d be the next man jumping into that tiger pit.”\n\nSomething about the man’s words prickled Mr. Johnson and he responded defensively, folding his newspaper onto his lap. \n\n“Better than fine then.”\n\n“That’s better.” After a pause. “What do you do?”\n\n“I work at Johnson’s and Johnson’s, I’m a partner at the firm.”\n\n“No, no!” The man shook his head, holding up a hand for Mr. Johnson to stop, “What do you do?”\n\n“Anything, everything.” \n\n“Anything. Everything.” The man repeated, seeing how the words tasted on his tongue, “Anything and everything except seeing the tigers?”\n\n“That’s right.” Mr. Johnson stood. He’d had quite enough of this whole encounter and he wanted to be done with it. This man and this confrontational conversation were both rubbing him the wrong way. “Anything and everything except seeing the tigers.” \n\nThat news and the empty seat beside him seemed to dishearten the man and he patted his shirt pocket reflexively. Searching for cigarettes. Mr. Johnson thought. \n\n“Are you going?”\n\nMr. Johnson ignored the question, scanning the street for a taxi. It would cost extra, but at this point he was beyond caring. The other man had stood up too now and Mr. Johnson watched him wearily.\n\n“It wasn’t suicide they say.” \n\n“What?”\n\n“The man in the tiger pit.” No taxis were in sight and the bus was still nowhere to be seen. “It was an accident.”\n\nThis meant nothing to Mr. Johnson but the other man was beside him now, holding his coat sleeve in his fist and staring at him with tear-stained eyes. \n\n“He hadn’t seen the tigers.” There was an urgent tone to the man’s voice that made Mr. Johnson stop and stare. “What if I don’t see them either?” His voice was rising now, frightened and angry, “How can I live if I don’t see the tigers?” \n\nThe man deflated, his energy spent, and he collapsed against Mr. Johnson, sobbing into his jacket. Taken by surprise Mr. Johnson could only stand there, briefcase in one hand and the other hanging awkwardly at his side. \n\n“You’ll live.” He said, trying to reassure the sobbing man. \n\n“But just fine.” Came the muffled reply, “Just fine.” ", "\"It's always raining when I have to take the bus.\" Peter said to no one in particular. He hugged his coat close about him and raised his collar against the misting rain blowing in to the shed where he waited.\n\n\"Could be worse.\" Sasha mumbled, stamping her feet to keep the blood circulating.\n\n\"I don't see how.\" He replied with a brief smile. She didn't turn, instead casting quick glances from the corner of her eye. The bus was slowly creeping down the street. \"You think it's warm on the bus?\" He asked.\n\n\"If not now, it will be.\" She replied cryptically.\n\nHe started for the edge of the street as the bus swooped in. Slushy water from the gutter splashed up on his slacks and coat. \"Dammit!\" He cursed, rubbing the ice from his slacks.\n\n\"That's good luck.\" Sasha observed.\n\n\"How is this good luck?\" He snapped, though smiled to lessen the sting of his words.\n\n\"You get to go home and change.\" She replied. He shrugged. There was that. He backed away from the bus as the door opened. \"Do something good with your life.\" She told him, pausing in the doorway of the bus. \"We rarely get second chances.\" She climbed aboard and he waved the driver off and turned to go. He made it about a dozen feet before Sasha detonated her bomb vest. He plowed into a puddle, not noticing it. He stared at the flaming wreckage of the bus as it rolled to a stop half a block away.\n\nHe didn't know if he should cry or scream. He did both.", "Snow dances a silent dance in front of the bus stop. Three strangers, a woman standing and two men, one sitting, one standing, share the silent wait for the vehicle.\n\n\"Pretty cold, huh?\" says the standing man.\n\n\"Hm? Excuse me?\" asks the sitting man.\n\n\"I said it's pretty cold, huh?\"\n\n\"I guess.\"\n\nSilence again. The bus is late.\n\n\"Damn thing, can't be on time if the world depended on it.\"\n\nThe sitting man fakes a chuckle and hastily agrees. Encouraged by this, the standing man begins a small monologue.\n\n\"I mean, I mean, hello? How hard can it be to drive a bus? Even in this snow, it can't be that hard, amiright? I mean ...\"\n\nThe standing man keeps talking as the sitting man tries, again and again, to speak up and interrupt him, but fails. The woman takes notice and looks over. After a while of forceful 'dialogue', the sitting man forces his voice through, rather harsh.\n\n\"LOOK, PAL. I've had one hell of a morning, so if you could please just SHUT UP, that would be great.\"\n\nSilence. Three little white clouds of breath in front of the people. The snow drifts and falls, silently adding itself to the white, grey and black blanket on the ground. The sitting man realizes how loud he's spoken.\n\n\"Um ... look I ...\"\n\n\"That was uncalled for.\" The woman pipes in, her arms crossed.\n\n\"Wha... I didn't mean to ...\"\n\n\"Yeah, man. I was just trying to be nice. No need to be so rude about it.\"\n\nThe sitting man tries to form an answer but fails. The trio remains in silence. The bus is late. The snow falls.\n\n\"I'm sorry. i shouldn't have yelled at you.\" apologizes the sitting man. \"I'm just really tired, that's all. I just finished a 12-hour night shift.\"\n\n\"That's okay. I'm sorry, too. My ma' always said I had a blabbermouth.\"\n\nThe woman snickers. \"Good woman.\" She grins.\n\nA loudspeaker crackles into life.\n\n\"Dear customers. We regret to announce that the lines 4,5,7 and 15 are unavailable at this time due to bad weather conditions. Any updates will be announced to you immediately. Thank you for your patience.\"\n\nCollective moaning.\n\n\"Damn it. 'Bad weather conditions'? It's not even that cold!\" The woman says annoyed.\n\nSilence again. The bus won't come. The people still stand there, unsure what to do. Should they wait until the bus comes? It has to come eventually.\n\n\" ... this might sound a bit weird, but do you guys want to come drink a coffee in that coffee shop over there?\" \n\nThe sitting man points over at the other side of the street where a small cafe is situated between a closed bank and a parking lot.\n\nSilence. They hesitate.\n\n\"I'm in.\"\n\nThe woman hesitates, but sighs and joins in.\n\n\"Beats standing in the cold. Should we ... you know ... names?\"\n\n\"Oh.\" The two men say unanimously.\n\n\"I'm Dave.\" says the standing man.\n\n\"Dean.\" says the sitting man, standing up.\n\n\"Alice.\" says the woman. \"Shall we?\"\n\nThey cross the street.\n\n\"My ma' always said 'Coffee makes you hyperactive', so I'll just have a cup of hot chocolate. You guys think they sell that here?\" \n\nAlice snorts again. Dean smiles at Dave.\n\n\"Sure, pal.\"", "\"Well, hi, there, partner! Have you heard about our Lord and Savior?\"\n\nI stared at the fellow, who was now looking at me expectantly. I silently cursed my unawareness of my surroundings. Unfortunately, waiting for the 6:40 generally induces in me just the sort of clockwork oblivion and general vacancy of face that makes the evangelists' \"lost sheep\" metaphor appear apt. And lo, a shepherd was come to guide me to the fold.\n\nHe was wearing cheap cowboy gear, though I was glad to note that he had forgone the six-shooter. He had everything else, though--the jeans, the boots (with spurs), the grimy button-down, the leather vest, the broad-brimmed Stetson hat. No doubt actual cowboys would snicker at the sight of him, but as far as even the most jaded of New Yorkers was concerned, he was a cowboy.\n\nHe was also peppered with flair-buttons, all of which loudly proclaimed things like \"HAVE YOU HEARD THE GOOD NEWS?,\" \"THE END-TIMES ARE COMING. READY?,\" and \"WE ARE NOT ALONE!,\" which struck me as equally appropriate for a UFO-enthusiast as for an evangelist. His eyes were as earnest as they were blue.\n\nI had already written off any possibility of genuine conversation, and I was not particularly interested in altering the wickedness of my ways and/or ascertaining the whereabouts of Jesus, who needs to get himself a goddamn GPS. So I decided to stonewall.\n\n\"Good morning.\"\n\n\"Well, have you heard it?\"\n\n\"Heard what, exactly?\"\n\n\"The good word!\"\n\n\"About what, exactly?\"\n\n\"About death, destruction, and the fall of man!\"\n\nI was a little taken aback.\n\n\"Come again?\" I asked.\n\n\"Death, destruction, and the fall of man!\" He repeated, quite earnestly.\n\n\"Um, I take it you're here to explain how this can be avoided?\"\n\n\"Oh, not at all,\" he said excitedly. \"I'm here to help you embrace it! It is inevitable, and all are doomed to perish in the flames. One can only surrender to it, and join the ranks of the fallen!\"\n\nI immediately reassessed the fellow, canceling his original mental threat rating of \"excessively religious, but otherwise harmless,\" and replacing it with \"batshit insane.\" I edged backwards a few microns. Where was the fucking bus?\n\n\"Your liturgy strikes me as...a bit unorthodox,\" I said carefully. \"May I ask what denomination you are?\"\n\n\"I'm a bona fide Dark Priest of the Second United Church of Satan!\" he announced proudly in a clearly-affected Texas accent. \"I represent the Light-Bringer and seek to cleanse the folly of man through His truths. For too long has mankind languished in the dark shadows of that accursed Book, and we seek to bring the light to him once more, as He once did in the Garden.\"\n\nHe was refreshingly coherent, and poetic, if a bit stilted. \"Well,\" I said lightly, \"do you have any flyers or anything?\"\n\n\"Of course!\" he beamed, and handed me one. We chatted amiably until the bus came.", "\"Where you going?\"\n\nJack continued looking at the newspaper in his lap. Not reading, just looking. No response came to the question and he casually lifted his gaze. No one else was there but him and some homeless man sitting at the bus stop at the edge of town.\n\n\"What was that?\" Jack asked, vainly trying to act as if he didn't hear.\n\nThe vagrant smiled. \"Where you going?\"\n\nJack looked back at his paper. \"The city.\"\n\nHe heard the man chuckle beside him. \"The bus doesn't go anywhere else.\"\n\n\"Yeah.\" Jack glanced at his watch, the bus was ten minutes late already.\n\n\"They're never too punctual.\" Jack looked up at him as the vagrant stared back. \"Whatcha reading?\" he asked.\n\nJack fumbled with the paper in his hands, \"oh, uh, just the front page.\"\n\nThe vagrant shrugged and then grabbed a box of crackers out of a shopping cart filled with trash bags beside him. He motioned to Jack with the box, but Jack shook his head in refusal.\n\n\"No thank you.\" He checked his watch again.\n\nThe vagrant ate one of his crackers. \"You always so vague, Jack?\"\n\n\"No I- How do you know my name?\"\n\nThe vagrant motioned towards a briefcase at Jack's feet. At the top an ID card was visible through a small window built into the case. \"Says right there, Jack Hodgson.\"\n\n\"You can read?\" Jack immediately regretted the question but the vagrant laughed.\n\n\"Sure, I didn't always spend my life on bus benches if that's what you thought.\"\n\n\"No I- I didn't think, sorry.\"\n\n\"No problem, I've gotten far worse. So you ever gonna tell me where you're going?\"\n\nJack smiled and shoved the paper in the briefcase before checking his watch again. He wasn't sure if it was out of guilt for implying the man was uneducated or out of hope that conversation would make the bus come quicker, but he decided to oblige the question. \"I'm actually headed to the airport.\"\n\n\"Oh, so you lied, earlier.\"\n\nJack was taken aback. \"No, the airport is in the city.\"\n\n\"Yes, but you're leaving the city, really.\"\n\n\"I guess that's one way to look at it.\"\n\n\"Where you flying?\"\n\n\"Baltimore.\" Jack lied.\n\nThe vagrant shook his head. He put the box of crackers on the bench beside him and wiped his hands on his pants. \"That won't do, Jack. We know you bought a ticket to Toronto. Flying out of the country just won't do.\"\n\n\"What?\" Jack stood up, angry. \"How do you know that?\"\n\nThe vagrant stood up as well then motioned behind Jack. \"I think that's the bus now.\"\n\nJack turned and immediately felt a thud on the back of his head. He fell down instantly. The vagrant put back the crowbar he had silently grabbed from the cart. He then pulled out a cellphone from his pocket and dialed a number.\n\n\"I got him. Yeah, I'm sure.\" He put the phone back in his pocket as a black Mercedes pulled up with tinted windows. The driver got out and helped the vagrant put Jack in the trunk. The vagrant handed the man the phone and the man handed the vagrant a box of crackers before getting back in the car and driving off.\n\nThe vagrant sat back on the bench and put the box in his cart, opting to continue eating from the first one. Moments later the bus pulled up, he waved it off.", "\"Late again?\"\n\n\"Yup.\"\n\nShe sat down next to the stranger and looked at her watch. Swearing under her breath, she pulled her sleeve back down and flipper her hood up and clutched her torso.\n\n\"Always late, always when I don't need them to be.\"\n\n\"Yup.\"\n\nThey sat in silence for a while, only the wind offered conversation as it kicked up snow from the piles on the sides of the street. She shivered and placed her hand on her stomach and sighed.\n\nIt must have been very audible because the man turned towards her, as if she had said something to him. She turned back and smiled at his gaze, \"Sorry, it's just cold.\"\n\n\"Yup.\" He said.\n\nShe looked up the street, then down it, hoping to see the easily recognizable features of the city bus. Again, she looked at her watch and bounced her leg up and down.\n\n\"Would you stop that?\" the man said to her.\n\n\"Excuse me?\"\n\n\"The bouncing leg, pacing and deep sighs. You're driving me nuts.\"\n\nShe looked aghast, \"Well excuse me, I'm sorry my nervousness is such a burden on you and your life.\" She looked away.\n\nThis time the man sighed, \"look I'm sorry,\" he offered, \"I just spent the last four hours watching my daughters kids.\"\n\nShe didn't look at him.\n\n\"I'm just tired of all that energy, is all.\"\n\nShe kept looking up the road, searching for the bus. The man got up and joined her on the sidewalk. He crossed his arms and turned his back to the wind. \"What are you so nervous about anyway?\"\n\nWithout looking at him, she blurted, \"Nothing.\"\n\n\"Well it has to be something, come on now, I'm a father of four kids, believe me, I've seen it all.\"\n\nShe moved her hand to her stomach again and looked down. The cold bit at her finger tips but she ignored the pain.\n\n\"I have an appointment I'm not particularly excited for.\"\n\nHe looked at her hand, \"Doctor's appointment?\"\n\n\"Yup.\"\n\n\"I see.\" He looked up the road now, nervous of he'd see the bus. \"You've made a big decision haven't you?\"\n\n\"Yup.\"\n\n\"Have you thought of alternatives?\"\n\nShe finally looked at him, her eyes were blurred with moisture, he knew it wasn't from the cold. Her hand still clutched her belly, \"Of course I have. There's no other way. I'm seventeen years old, what the hell am I going to do with a baby?\"\n\nHe kept eye contact with her until she broke it off. \"Besides,\" she continued, \"My parents wouldn't understand. They said this was the only option.\"\n\n\"There's always an alternative,\" the man said, \"Life is always greater than no life at all.\"\n\n\"And what of her life? How can I take care of a child at seventeen?\" \n\n\"It's a girl?\"\n\n\"Apparently,\" she said, crossing her arms. \"I wanted to name her Olivia.\"\n\n\"That's a beautiful name.\"\n\nShe responded by wiping her eyes and looking back up the road for the bus. \n\n\"You know, now that I think about it, I'm pretty sure my granddaughter has a doll named Olivia. She never lets that thing go.\" He laughed at a memory, \"In fact, she insists on taking her in the bath with her. The doll smells terrible, the water has left it with a stale rank smell but she loves it despite that.\"\n\nShe was looking at him again, and smiled. The noise of an engine caught her attention, she looked up the street and saw the bus turn the corner.\n\n\"Hey,\" he said, touching her arm, \"How 'bout you take the next bus?\"\n\nShe looked down at her belly and rested her palm on the unborn child. Her gaze returned to the bus, then back to the man's face. \"I'd like that, yeah.\"\n\n\"Great,\" he smiled and they sat down on the bench as the bus roared by. " ]	7
With a boom, the ship landed. The bewildered citizens of <city name> stood in awe. No contact from Earth for 210 years, and now out of nowhere, a ship. The mayor walked up prudently to the now open door; but there was nobody...	[WP] With a boom, the ship landed.	[ "With a boom, the ship landed. A great titanic sound echoing through the valleys and down the river basin called out to the people. The bewildered citizens of Tomahawk stood in awe. There had been no contact from Earth for over two hundred and ten years, and now, out of nowhere, a ship. Voices were raised. Some were raised, calling out to the crew of the Vesuvius, for that was the name written on the side of the ship. Others called out that they should arm themselves. Two hundred and ten years was a long time. \n\nEveryone could trace their origins back to single solitary territory on Earth, but in two hundred years, that was enough time for the common bond of blood to fracture. Tomahawk wasn't the only colony out among the stars, but it was the only colony out here to mine Muscoralite. The mineral the other colonies used to power their technologies and ships.\n\nThe mayor held up us hand to quiet his people. \n\n\"Calm down, people. It's been two hundred and ten years. Stevens, call out the guard just to be safe. Piper, organize the people up a hundred yards off from the ship. Appearances, people. Let us show them our brave faces. Let us show them our . . . dignity.\" He told them reassuringly. He felt his stomach leap as he turned back toward the ship. Was he really going to approach that behemoth? He wondered. He took his first step and then his next. Evidently, he was in fact going to approach that ship. He resolved himself to the task.\n\nThe mayor walked up prudently to the now open door; but there was nobody inside--nobody he could see.\n\n\"Hello?\" The mayor called, leaning in through the door. His voice echoed back to him from the cavernous hold of the ship. \"Hello?\" He shouted again, but louder. No answer. He turned back to his people and shrugged. They crowded against the barriers Piper had herded them behind. The guard was fanning out in a semi-circle around the ship. Their weapons were lowered, but even from that distance, the mayor could hear the hum of their rifles as the guardsmen sensing trouble powered up the batteries in preparation for use.\n\n\"Who are they?\" Someone from the crowd called. The mayor shrugged again.\n\n\"The ship appears to be unmanned.\" The mayor shouted back. Piper started forward warning everyone to stay back. He came skipping up to the mayor and pushed past, climbing the steps two at a time. He made his way to the cockpit and played with the buttons on the console. The mayor was breathing hard after his short climb up the stairs, but even then, he still managed to waddle up to the cockpit door to see what Piper had found.\n\n\"Unmanned.\" Piper confirmed.\n\n\"From where?\" The mayor asked in confusion.\n\n\"The Lunar Colony?\" Piper answered in confusion.\n\n\"What Lunar Colony?\" The mayor snapped. \"There isn't no Lunar Colony.\" Piper's eyes swelled in fear as he remembered his history class about the last days of Earth.\n\n\"Off the ship! Off the freaking ship!\" He roared. He had the mayor half-way to the door they'd entered by before the chittering sounds began. The tiny metallic clicks filled the inside of the ship like white noise. Piper realized the mayor wasn't going to make it. He raced past, leaving the mayor to waddle in his lurch. The tiny metallic machines detached themselves from the wall of the ship, scrambling like spiders. They ran and hopped and were on the mayor in seconds, carving quarter-shaped plugs from his flesh. He was mobbed and buried beneath them. Piper didn't look back. He hit the button beside the portal and dove over the closing door.\n\n\"Destroy the ship! Destroy it!\" Piper screamed, crawling away as fast as he could. \"Destroy that god-damned thing.\" The guards opened fire. With their rifles at first, but thankfully, some of them had thought to man the turrets. They opened fire on the engine compartment as people fled from the explosion they knew was imminent. The tiny machines poured out through the holes the weapons were blasting in the side of the ship. A few made it to the ground before the ship blew. \n\nPiper accepted a helping hand from one of the guards he knew, allowing the man to pull him to his feet. \n\n\"Make sure none of those freaking machines escape.\" Piper commanded, assuming the role of leader.\n\n\"The mayor?\" The guard asked.\n\n\"Dead and worse. No time. We need to contain this. If even one of those machines escapes, this colony will die. Piper ran from squad to squad ordering them to destroy every inch of the ship and every particle of metal coming off of it. Guards were dispatched to bring back better weaponry. They combed the field around the ship, shooting the little machines, while plasma cannons were used to melt the metal into heaps. A targeted EMP was mounted on the walls of the city and was fired repeatedly into the wreckage. More men were brought to scour the field beyond. Ships utilizing thermal imaging equipment was sent criss-crossing the fields looking for any sign the machines had survived. Two were found near the edge of the field and sanitized. Piper kept the guards in the field for two days searching every inch of the field and one square mile around the ship. It was only then, after the area had been searched a dozen times that he allowed the guards to retire. \n\nHe called a meeting that evening in the town hall. The council was to be in session, Barric Stevens and the Watch Captains were called into attendance. A video conferencing line was established with the admiral of the fleet that patrolled the seventeen united colonies. Piper waited until all was in attendance before he started. He swallowed hard. It was now time to explain." ]	1
	[WP] God puts Mankind on trial for their sin. Mankind chooses one individual to represent them in their trial. You choose the ending.	[ "\"Have we sorted through all of the applications claiming to be the messiah, yet?\" Ellen dropped her bag next to her desk, which could hardly be seen behind the piles of paper. She looked at Kevan with an eyebrow raised. \n\n\"Erm...\" He started, glancing at the ceiling-high stacks of applications surrounding him. \"Well it's hard to know for sure. Most of the ones from those that are clearly mental have been put into conference room E. The rest...\" Kevan glanced around again. \n\n\"The rest we will have to find the hard way,\" Emily finished for him. She sighed and rubbed her temples. \"Let's get to it then!\"\n\n\"Okay, but, well, there is this one. I found it last night and, well, it's addressed to you.\"\n\n\"To me?\"\n\n\"Yeah it's weird. Come look.\"\n\n\"But how? Nobody is supposed to know who we are.\"\n\nKevan looked abnormally anxious, sweating, wringing his hands and glancing around furtively. There was definitely something to this letter. \n\n\"Never mind, Kevan. Just show me.\"\n\nThey walked single file, squeezing through the hallway leading to Kevan's office, bumping shoulders with stacked boxes of applications. \n\nKevan opened the door and hurried to his desk, opening it like it might explode. \n\n\"It's in here,\" he gestured to the drawer and took a step back.\n\nEllen resisted the urge to ask him to just hand over the letter. He was as far away from the desk as he could manage, pressing his back against the window, staring at his feet. \n\nThe envelope was plain white. There was no return address -- no postage of any kind. It read on the front in plain, but strangely beautiful script, \"Elleanor\".\n\n\"This is it?\" She asked, raising the envelope up so Kevan could see it. He flinched as it suddenly seemed to luminesce. Then Ellen flinched too. \n\nShe looked at it again. The same plane paper. She examined it more closely and held it at an angle to the light. The envelope was no longer paper, but thousands of colors, iridescent and beautiful. It shimmered like moonlight on a calm lake. \n\nIt seemed Kevans reluctance to deal with the letter was justified. \n\n\"Aren't... Aren't you going to open it?\" Kevin squeaked. \n\nIt was unnerving; the lightness of the paper, the fineness of the weave, the way it seemed to radiate warmth, but not a kind that could be felt with skin. \n\n\"I couldn't not if I tried. I think.\"\n\nKevan's eyes went wide. \n\n\"So you think it's --\"\n\n\"A letter from Him, yes.\"\n\nKevan visibly swallowed. \n\nDeftly, Ellen opened the letter.\n\nIt read like a note passed surreptitiously to a mistress,\n\n\"Dinner, tonight at seven o'clock. Café Mont Blanc. \n\nP.s. Your dress looks lovely on you\"\n\nEllen was wearing jeans and a blouse. Maybe humanity would have a chance, after all. God, it seemed, has a sense of humor. ", "Sending one of our own to plead for our lives is not how we imagined the end would come about. Fire, hellfire raining from the sky, seemed much more likely. At least something cataclysmic, like the sky ripping from the horizon or the air turning into gold. Instead we got a court summons from Heaven.\n\nHer name wasn't known to any of us. Some called her the Messiah, which of course started wars all over the place because how could a woman be the second coming of Jesus? The more open-minded members of humanity called her the Mother of All, or just Mother. \n\nWe had all hoped that she would save us. That hope died with her, before she even got to meet Him. Ended by a knife from a druggie desperate for a fix. Isn't that how humanity should end? Killed by its own hand?" ]	2
	[WP] Radical Feminists and Social Justice Warriors become the world's main authority. What happens?	[ "\"Whole world went to shit, that's what happened!\" bellowed Old Jim, scowling as he spoke, each word practically spat at the children circled before him. \"Don't know how or why it happened...maybe we got complacent, maybe we got stupid but everyone was clammerin' over everyone else, itching to look the most 'moral', the most 'progressive' and suddenly, BAM!,\" the kids startled, \"We had a four hundred pound female president who thought she was a unicorn.\"\n\nJim's expression grew distant as he eased back in his chair, taking a puff of his peculiarly phallus shaped cigar. \"It didn't take long, then, and people started disappearin'. First it was just the manliest of us, Schwarzenegger, Stallone, those tennis playing Williams sisters, poof, gone. Never heard from 'em again.\" Jim leaned in and blew smoke out in lazy clouds towards the children, just to be a dick. \"Then they came for the rest of us...\"\n\nJim lifted the sleeve on his tattered khaki fatigues, exposing a brutal, misshapen brand that spoke well of the pain it would have caused to make it. He made sure each of the children got a good, long look at it.\n\n\"They separated us via 'privilege'. Branded us in a manner befitting our standing, they said\". Jim looked as his own brand, \"Don't much look like a penis, though...\"\n\n\"What happened next, Old Jim?!\" piped up one of the kids, familiar face on him. Jim reckoned he might have been one of his own.\n\n\"Shut it, you little shit. I'm talking here.\" he replied, then sat silent for a moment. \"You kids ever seen the dogs...wrestlin'?\" he asked, not sure of the phrasing.\n\n\"Like when Rex plays leapfrog with Jessie?\". Little shit spoke again.\n\n\"Yeppa, like that. Vital step if you want to get puppies, you know, vital. That's the problem.\"\n\n\"They didn't like dogs?\"\n\n\"Dogs, what?, no you moron...babies! That's the problem. They got rid of all the cocks and in their grand mansions of delusion and self importance grew old and bitter...well, more bitter, and alone. Grim claimed them all and they had no-one to pass on their legacy. We, on the other hand, us men and the right thinking women who were still women, we got...you. At the end of the day, it wasn't guns, or jets, or bombs that won us back our country...\" Jim stood, dropped his trousers and stood proud, proud as any man before or since. \"It was this!\"", "\"Excuse me.\"\n\nI turned, and immediately a shock of panic coursed through my system. It was a woman. A real-sized woman, as they called themselves these days, presumably of the African American-persuasion, maybe in her early thirties.\n\n\"I don't appreciate the way you show off your arms like that,\" she said stiffly, indicating to my bare biceps that were protruding from my white t-shirt. \"As a womyn, it's very triggering to see a cis-man displaying the muscles he uses to overpower us.\"\n\n\"I'm sorry, ma'am,\" I replied slowly, trying to hide the anxiety from my expression. \"It's just...you know...July.\" She raised one perfectly penciled eyebrow. \"Sorry, sorry...I'll go find a light long-sleeved shirt when I get home so I don't oppress anyone else.\"\n\n\"It would do a lot of good,\" she agreed solemnly. \"Think of the fat-shaming you're participating in as well, showing off your fitness like that. Some of us don't have that kind of privilege, and you have no right to wave it in our faces.\" \n\n\"You're absolutely right.\"\n\n\"Excuse me?\" another voice said angrily from behind me. I turned again to see a...person, storming up to us. They were perfectly androgynous, with short, artfully tousled straight hair, tightly fitting unisex clothes and strong cheekbones. \"This womyn doesn't need your validation to know she's right. Check your privilege, you patriarchal scum!\" I felt the blood drain from my face.\n\n\"I'm sorry ma'am,\" I said again, but his/her/their face told me that I had screwed up all over again.\n\n\"HOW DARE YOU ASSUME TO KNOW MY GENDER IDENTITY? I ONLY RESPOND TO CHER, CHES AND CHE.\"\n\n\"I didn't mean to! I didn't know!\" Everyone in the street was looking my way now: the men were watching sheepishly, and the womyn were staring with narrowed eyes. To my horror, a member of the Tolerance Squad was pushing through the crowd towards us, wearing the signature helmet and body suit so that their features would be completely obscured, rendering them completely privilege-less.\n\n\"Is this man bothering you two?\" asked the officer.\n\n\"He's forcing an identity onto me that I don't want!\" cried out the androgynous person.\n\n\"He's threatening me by displaying his dominant anatomy!\" shouted the large woman.\n\n\"I JUST WANTED TO GET A BEER!\" I finally screamed, pulling at my hair frantically. My assailants cringed away from me and burst into tears, and the TS officer grabbed my arm.\n\n\"You know that less privileged members of our society are triggered by men's aggression. It says so in section 11-A, which you have violated with your public outburst. I'm going to need you to come with me.\"" ]	2
This was an idea I had? Would he someone he knew? Would he get tired of his job someday? Would the machine backfire? It's up to you.	[WP] One man's job to choose one of two people. The other one dies.	[ "I had to choose one, but who? Thomas, or David? The gun was trembling in my hands as I quickly had to put a bullet in one of them. \n\n\"C'mon man, you know David. He's a fucking hot-headed psychopath. He's murdered over 100 guys! This decision isn't hard!\" Thomas begged.\n\n\"Well then go on then, KILL ME! If you want to continue living on as a goodie two-shoes with him, then go ahead! SHOOT ME! RIGHT HERE IN THE FOREHEAD! END ME!\" David commanded as he took the other end of my gun and put it against his head.\n\n\"Listen, you don't want to lead a life of crime with this piece of shit scumbag!\" Thomas negotiated, \"He slaughters people for no reason at all!\" \n\nClick \n\n\"PLEASE DON'T DO THIS! YOU'LL REGRET IT\"\n\nBAM\n\n\"Aha! Good lad! I knew you'd pick me. I knew you couldn't live such a dull life. Now, get the gun, where going on a hunt!\"\n\nBefore I even picked up the gun, I knew I had to choose David. David has been apart of me since childhood, back when I dissected wildlife for kicks.Thomas was apart of me in which I no longer wanted to associate with. I no longer had morals, but my doctor said there's still hope for this retched disease. Now I realize, though, that David is the part of my brain that drives my insanity, and now I am feeling better now that I've accepted who I am. ", "James lifted his mask slightly to wipe the sweat from his brow. He'd only been here a week, and already the pressure was getting to him. Walls of guilt closed in and suffocated. His coworkers all told him the first week was the hardest. Their laughing eyes, hiding behind their own gray masks, as they told of the wildest Choices they'd made. Surely no one would choose a plain-looking frail woman, who worked as a waitress, over that handsome devil of a business man. \nThe door at the front of the room slid open precariously, the wheels underneath squealing in protest. \n\n\"247911 against 173846.\"\n\nTwo men walked into the room silently and they sit, their numbers haphazardly pinned to the plain white government issued shirts. \n\nJames nodded and glanced to his files. They were among the last five Choices of the day. The only information that was given was pretty basic. Age. Sex. Occupation. How many children, and whether or not they were married. Favorite color.\n\nA name was never included.\n\n\n(This is where I hit my roadblock. More tomorrow?)\nThank you for the prompt! It's my first time posting in WP - I've been wanting to get back into writing and this is the first one that I really liked. " ]	2
	[WP] You wake up one morning to find a doppelganger of yourself in your household. It can't see you, and you can see it, but it still behaves as if it lives there	[ "The sun is most definitely on its way up now. The light sneaks through the crack in between the blind and the window, creating a dagger of light across the pillow. I’ve been lying here, watching it creep along the bed, but now there’s no escape, it’s right across my face and I know any minute the alarm is going to start its artificial birdsong.\n\nIt was a present, Nature Sounds L5X, bringing the great outdoors to you!. Carol thought it would help me to ‘relax’, as if that would solve anything. It had been another sleepless night. I guess keeping the alarm on had become a habit, I’d been awake before it for the last few weeks.\n\nBegrudgingly I crawled from the bed and pulled on my dressing gown. \n\nI walked into the en suite and didn’t bother to turn on the light. Who needs to see themselves this early, especially after so many sleepless nights? I pulled on the chord to start the extractor fan, its squeaky hum made me smile, the sound was so soothing and almost meditative. \nIt wasn’t until I was halfway done with my teeth that the realisation had come to me. Why was everything around the sink so wet? I could have sworn my toothbrush was wet as I picked it up. Insomnia. I really was starting to go mad.\n\n My mind quickly wandered off to the doctor’s appointment later this morning. I hate my doctor, a strange hippy type who still wears a ponytail even though he must be at least 60. But I need sleep, and nothing over the counter seems to be helping.\n\nI turned the shower as hot as I could stand it. Steam filled the bathroom and the little extractor just couldn’t keep up. With the dark and the steam together I could barely see, and nearly killed myself tripping over the edge of the shower cubicle. I fumbled around for the towel, but it wasn’t hanging on the back of the door. Too tired to care, I walked, dripping, back into the bedroom. I found a towel on top of the laundry pile, it was still a bit damp but a towel is a towel.\n\nAlthough I knew I had to leave the house at some point this morning, I didn’t bother getting dressed further than underwear and a pair of jeans. I made a half assed effort at finding a t-shirt, but there were none in the wardrobe. Must have worn them all. \n\nDownstairs, I walked into the kitchen just as the front door slammed. Pharrel Williams was being his normal chipper self on the radio. I turned it off and poured some cereal into a bowl, I didn’t bother to clean it, the milky sludge at the bottom suggested it had only had cereal in it before.\n\nThe jingling of the keys in the lock startled me out of a micro-sleep daze. I was doing that a lot, drifting off into space. Never felt as good as sleep though. \n\n“You forgot your phone” I offered helpfully, pointing to the top of the fridge, but apparently that didn’t warrant a response.\n\n I grabbed the phone and looked at the calendar. Dr Kay 10:30am. Flying out the door again, I pulled it shut, but as always it closed with a slam. My neighbors hated me, how can one person make so much noise they half joked half threatened in that peculiar English way. It was good to be out that house, it felt like a prison being there alone, now that Carol had packed her things.\n\nI always forget my phone I thought, taking another slurp of milk from the cereal bowl. It’s good to see that I’m trying to help myself though. If I go another night without sleep god knows what will happen.\n\n---\n\nI took this in a bit of a different direction, but this is really the first piece of purely creative fiction I've done since school. Be gentle!\n\n\n", "I woke up to a startling sight- a sight of myself! I never believed in the supernatural, or any of that bullshit. But watching myself get up, eat breakfast, and get ready for work? This isn't normal. It must be a dream. But it was all too real. He, well, me, took no notice of me. I decided to sit back and observe. I'd figure this out myself, I usually do. Maybe I'd figure out some way to totally fuck with his mind, move things around, make him think he lost his wallet only to have it found in the women's restroom.\nThere goes my mischievous mind again. But this man couldn't possibly be anyone but myself! Oh well, I'd decided to follow him around so follow him I did.\nI managed to sneak into the car before he drove away. It wasn't until a few minutes into the drive that I noticed. This man had a birthmark, two dots just behind the right ear. But that was impossible! I checked behind my own ear, yes it was still there, always had been. The man had my birthmark.\nThat couldn't possibly be, I- I thought he was just a doppelgänger... Could it really be myself I'd been studying?\nI was too wrapped up in my thoughts to notice the truck, the bright red F250, swerving madly, the one that barreled straight into the drivers side of the car I was in. I was splattered in blood, my own blood I guess. I was too horrified to think, to do anything, but watch a ghost, his ghost, float up and fade away. Hit with the sudden realization, as I was fading out of existence, I thought-\nThat ghost. He's going to wake up to one startling sight.\n" ]	2
	[WP] In this world, everyone can look at their palm and see the exact number of lives they made better. How does this change/create history and affect people lives?	[ "My Number. 237. I put away my tools and watched for the glowing green number on my right palm to change. It flickered and shimmered. 239. A twofer, nice. Smiling to myself, I began to clean up the mess I'd made. Sure, my job wasn't glamorous. It wasn't something that earned me a whole lot of respect, but I had to be doing something right. My Number was proof of that.\n\nI'd always been a 0. A low-down cheap little punk. And for most of my life, I was okay with that. When I took that first job, it was purely about the money. I didn't care about my Number. That was for goody two-shoes losers to fret over. But whether I cared about it or not, after that job my Number went up. For the first time in my life, I was more than a zero. I couldn't help myself staring at it, realizing how easy it had been to bring it up. I knew I'd found my calling.\n\nI finished my cleanup, threw the now drenched rags into the roaring fireplace, and started dragging the heavy sack out to my trunk. I'd take care of disposing of it tomorrow. Tonight I'd earned a good night's sleep. My Number was a testament to that. My Number was what kept me going. If my friends knew what I did for a living, they'd probably never speak to me again. But I knew I was doing right. Not one person I know has a number anywhere close to mine. And certainly none of my clients has. I check, I've never taken care of anyone above a 9. Pitiful in comparison to mine, really.\n\nI walked into the house, throwing my keys and my tool case down with metallic clatters. I trudged towards bed, pausing just long enough to glance at the clock. 12:45, what a long night. I fell asleep almost as soon as my head hit the pillow, my last thoughts brimming with pride. I was a good person, my Number couldn't lie about that.\n\nI awoke in a bleary eyed haze to the red numbers on the clock face. 11:57. Had I slept that long? In my drowsiness, it took me a long moment to realize what felt wrong. That wasn't my clock. I wasn't even facing the clock. Those glowing red numbers were on my left hand. I stared at them, frowning in confusion. 1157. The Number, with its soothing green glow, showed how many lived we'd improved. I knew that. But then what did this new red number mean? And why was it so much higher? ...oh. Oh no. It can't mean that. I'm a good person... right?", "I write what I want! \n\nSad Tale-\n\nElat Das sat at his usual bar stool. He crunched the usual peanuts with the usual toe of his steel toed boots against the usual warn wooden floor. He spun his usual half empty pint of Pabst and tried not to see the usual grime stuck to his hands from another usual day out in the usual filth trying to repair the usual equipment for the usual oil field.The bar tender walked up and said the usual \"another?\"\n\nElat looked at the man. Nodded. Then looked back at his cup. Then he looked at his hand. At the large 0 that now stood black under the grime that clung to his palm. His mother had died this morning and when she went so did the only number Elat Das had ever known. That 1 had become a zero. The bar tender was returning with another pint, when Elat stood up suddenly. The bar tender watched curious as Elat trudged towards the door. He'd never been talkative and he smoked often so the bar tender just put the new pint down by the old and wandered back to the other end of the bar to talk to another and much larger breasted patron.\n\nElat Das walked outside, glanced at the semi-rolling down the road towards him. He glanced at the bold 0 and strolled out towards the middle of the little road. He waited there, trying not to look at the truck. Trying not to acknowledge the 0.... The semi driver glanced up as he felt his truck shutter. Glanced at the 12 on his palm, nodded that it was still there and kept driving." ]	2
	[WP] Buses occasionally disappear. You witness it happen.	[ "It was like something out of Harry Potter\n\nWalking along, on a cold Autumn night, just strolling home from my dead shift job at the gas station,a few blocks from my house, when i saw the number 8 go past. It's bright yellow sheen blitzed pass like a ray of sunlight,illuminating the white fog in front of me.\n\nAbout 5 seconds of it passing into the effervescent fog in front of me,i heard a sharp squeal of tires,and a scream of \"AIIEEE-\" and then,silence.\nIt took me a second to react,but i plunged forwards,ready to see the horror before me. Stumbling blindly through the fog, i trace the outline of the tires before me. They last about 10 meters, and then abruptly stop.\n\nScanning the surroundings,all i can see is the walls of various closed shops and the white mist,so i attempt to see what lies beyond the tracks. 5 steps,and i hit a wall, the back of a large warehouse\n\nGraffiti'd on the side of it,about 4 meters high, is the Number 6. I peer forward in confusion,and see the drivers yellowed teeth stretched in a grimace of horror,and the fear expertly outlined on the passengers faces.\nI step back, only to nearly trip over a piece of paper on the floor. Confused,i pick it up,only to notice it is yesterdays paper. The headline?\n\n\"5th Bus mysteriously dissapears,Authorities find no trace.\"", "The building around me shook and I felt a banshee in my ear. This was the bus again.\n\nI glanced at my watch. 5:55 PM. This was third time it happened, and I finally caught it on camera. It seemed too* good to be true; I could provide evidence to everyone so they won't think I'm crazy when I tell them! Only, it was too good to be true. Playing the recording again just showed static wherever the bus was on the screen and played clean noise for the duration of the screech. What is going on?\n\nThe first time it happened was two weeks ago. I was working at the brewery when I heard loud noises out the window. It was a bus swerving in the middle of the road. It looked like it was about to crash into the side of our building. I felt a huge vibration and a sound that pounded against my eardrums- but it suddenly stopped. It didn't appear as if anything at all had happened. I was confounded. I asked everyone around if they had seen anything but, of course, no one but me saw a thing. 7 days later, it happened again. I realized it happened around the same time as it did last, so I waited 7 days and tried to capture it on film, but that didn't work. I needed to find out why not, but I couldn't. A light bulb went off in my head and I realized just exactly why not.\n\nI realized that I live in the year 1776. Buses don't exist yet.", "It all happened so quickly. I can barely process it now. I just got off of my bus, and began walking down the sidewalk, when I remembered that I forgot my bag on the bus.\n\nOh shit I thought.\n\nI turn around to see the bus begin to pull away. I began running toward the bus but then...I don't know. The bus was there one second, the next it just disappeared. Nothing but thin air. All of those people that were on the bus, their belongings, my bag...gone. Where could they have gone?\n\nLater that evening, I watched the news. There was nothing about a large bus filled with people going missing mysteriously. I went to work the next day. My coworkers who rode the same bus didn't show up, but no one else was questioning where they were. I asked people about it, and they said they had never heard of these people in their life. This is weird because one of them I asked was married to one of the men that disappeared.\n\nThese events occurred about 3 years ago, and is still unexplained today.", "There was that man again.\n\nNathan stared at the old bus driver as he climbed abroad. Two weeks ago, the bus driver was a waiter at Nathan's favorite restaurant. After leaving, Nathan heard on the news the whole place burned down. A week after that, the old man was a UPS worker, handing Nathan a package. When it was opened, the box had a dismembered head in it. At least Nathan thought it did. When he took his eyes off it for a second, the head disappeared.\n\nNow he was driving the bus.\n\nNathan stayed on the steps for a long time, drawing stares from the other riders. He was holding them up, but he doubted they would make it to their destinations anyway. Maybe he could save them if he was on the bus as well. Nathan sighed and stepped up to the front-most seat. He sat down and continued to stare at the old man.\n\nThe old man turned on the wipers. Nathan looked out the windows, but there was no sign of rain.\n\nSqueak Squeak\n\nWhy the Hell are the wipers on?\n\nSqueak Squeak\n\nNathan looked around frantically. \n\nSqueak Squeak\n\nNathan kicked out one of the windows and jumped out of the moving bus. As he was falling out, he saw the old man's eyes in the reflection of the rear-view mirror. The old man was smiling. As he hit the ground, Nathan skidded his elbows, but was otherwise fine. He saw the faces of all the others passengers staring out at him, confused.\n\nSuddenly, the bus turned into water. It kept the shape of the bus for a second, but soon fell to the ground, splashing into a small puddle.\n\nNathan got up and ran home." ]	4
	[WP] [EU?] The year is 2077. For the 100th anniversary of Star Wars someone has released a gritty reboot of the series (ie BSG 2004). How does it open?	[ "A long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away...\n\nIt is a period of civil war. Republic forces under the sway of an increasingly tyrannical Jedi Council are violently crushing the rebellious planets one by one. In an effort to end further bloodshed, the Council has begun construction on the ultimate weapon of compliance, the DEATH STAR.\n\nBut hope is not lost. A young rebel leader named Luke Skywalker leads the successful guerrilla campaign against the Republic on the desert planet of Tatooine. Princess Leah Organa of the breakaway Alderaan system makes a desperate attempt to join forces with Luke before the Death Star can be brought to bear.\n\nAll the while a rogue master named Kenobi, judged Sith by the Jedi Council, may hold the key to restoring balance to the galaxy...", "Scene: \n\nC3P0 is on a ledge on the outside of Cloud City. We see him shuffling sideways in the narrow space available for him to walk. He approaches a window.\n\nC3P0: \"When I get back inside I'll see to it R2-D2 is going to be deactivated. His pranks have gone too far ths time! \n\nHe leans down to check the window, which he finds to be open , and peeks inside\n\nInside we see Luke and Leia Skywalker in the throes of passion. Luke looks up and spots C3P0 on the ledge\n\nC3P0: Master Luke I... I.. \n\nLuke closes his eyes and with a gentle pushing motion launches C3P0 off the ledge to be shattered on a platform below\n\nLuke: \"The things I do for love\" \n\n\nopening credits start\n\n\"A Game of Clones \"\n" ]	2
This is more "writing practice" than a real prompt. I was hoping to create something for people to work on the idea of showing, rather than telling, to develop scenes and characters. It doesn't have to be long, just a few sentences is all you need to develop something of a scene. As an example, you should completely avoid "She had beautiful, blonde hair, but looked tired." Instead, try something like "He brushed a loose strand of long, amber hair from her shoulder, his eyes avoiding the poorly concealed circles below her own." I'm not directly telling you she has blonde hair, nor am I telling you she is tired--but instad I am allowing you to infer it (and sometimes the reader's inferences may be wrong [i.e., I didn't necessarily say the circles weren't black eyes--that is unintended, and would have to be addressed either before or after in dialogue or further description]). Give it a shot! Would be happy to offer critiques if you'd like. *Edit: Oh wait, this is probably more like [CW] than [FF]. Whoops!	[FF] Show me what a character looks like without directly telling me. Make me love them, hate them, or don't develop them at all, but let actions and imagery do most of the work.	[ "If you looked hard you could see a sense of longing in her eyes. Cold and shimmering like moonlight on a lake, it mesmerized me. I went to hell and back with her, but now I can't say a word. I moved my hands behind her head, it was like parting a silk screen that absorbed my rough hands and light as well. Souvenirs from our adventures were clear and present on her face and hands, memories of battles won and friends lost.\n\nI could see the longing in her eyes, I just wanted to whisk her away to where we could lie. The raven of the battlefield, my love.", "This might be too far off from what you were looking for, but...this is what came to mind....\n\nA soft breeze rustled the tall grass of the meadow just beyond the trees where she crouched. Dawn hadn’t fully broken, and the soft light glistened as it reflected and refracted off of the early morning dew. She pulled her cloak tighter, shutting out the damp chill. The wool was faded and worn, and patches showed in many places, the colors all the same, but in varying shades of age. A motley, but made up of only earthy greens.\n \nA few strands of wet hair had come loose and hung in front of her eyes, sticking out of from the overly-large hood, pieces of straw poking out from an over-stuffed scarecrow. \n\nA patch of grass swished in the meadow, too violent to have been made by the breeze. Her eyes immediately darted to its source, and then around the area in a quick, calculated pattern. Her lips, which had been slightly parted as she let her breath slowly in and out, closed into a hard line, her eyelids narrowed. She gripped the riser of her bow with a delicate firmness, though her missiles remained in their quiver at her hip. No need to draw just yet. \n\nWait.\n\nA small brown head popped up from the grass, barely visible. \n\nNot yet.\n\nSomething, a sound beyond her hearing, a smell perhaps, and the deer sprang from its succor, bounding with graceful leaps towards the increased safety of the forest’s edge. And still she crouched, motionless, a statue.\n\nThen came the sharp twang of a bowstring, the whistle of a spinning arrow, the wet contact with the fleeing animal, and the finality of the cold thump as the deer fell to the hard ground, unmoving.\nThe silence that followed seemed deafeningly loud.\n\nNot yet.\n\nA full minute passed.\nThe hunter emerged from the trees at the far side of the meadow. He looked around furtively for a moment, and apparently deciding the way was clear, he jogged out across the grass, toward his prize. \n\nOne of them. A Taker. A hunter from the nearby “town.” \n\nWith a spectacular grace and fluidity of movement, she rose, already in a shooter’s stance. A solitary arrow slid swiftly from the deerskin quiver, hit the knock at the same moment she drew the freshly waxed string back to taut and let fly. The entire effort taking seconds, nothing wasted, the hand-made projectile spun tightly through the crisp morning air and lodged itself in the jogging hunter’s left eye socket, snapping his head back even as his lifeless body pitched forward into the wet grass.\n\nShe exhaled a puff of misty breath in a long sigh, lowering the weapon back to her side. She blinked, once, before turning away from where the man fell, drew her knife with her right hand, and stalked silently over to where lay the slaughtered deer. \n", "Comparable to the movement of the sun, everything done was intentional, linear, and very slow from a distant perspective. Watching the lethargic movements was made more painful by the arthritic shaking as two hands met. One firm and young, which met the differing other with calm patience. A nearby chair soon served as a welcome reprieve for the sobering picture of a man afflicted with aching exhaustion from life and age. The yellowed skin served as the parchment underneath a map of wrinkles ambiguously detailing the span of a particular life.\n\nNearly sunset now.\n\n(Note: Wasn’t sure if I did this correctly. Love the prompt!)" ]	3
	[WP] A father dies but is reincarnated as a dog that his family adopts shortly after.	[ "My father, a strict Catholic Christian, had a gaze to his strict demeanor that was spoken of all across Fargo, my childhood home. Such did my father’s reputation precede him that as he turned a corner whoever he might encounter on the other side would instantly cast a serious tight lipped frown across their face and stiffen, as if they were being caught in the act of something malicious by their mother, and greet him with either a firm stiff handshake or bow of their head often avoiding eye contact. As you can imagine, just walking down the street next to him was often a painfully uncomfortable experience as I myself was far more laid back and conscious of his many flaws, the way he struggled to get off the couch on a Sunday afternoon, or his inexhaustible frustration with our local Church. In all, I can’t complain; he was as good a father as any other in town and did half the drinking of most. In late November rain, on my 18th birthday my father’s eternal stubbornness was finally exhausted as he passed away from an elongated fitful fight against cancer, which through and through might have beaten down his body, never touched his faith and spirituality. And with his death a sort of silence began to emanate about his old house. The big brown armchairs he would sit reading in with the lampshade next to him turned off were queer shaded dark and empty. Everything became sick and odd around the house. Dinners were silent and depressed without his perpetual bickering over modern society in Fargo and the waves of polluted liberals moving in. Eventually my mother and I settled on getting a dog -a purebred Rottweiler as my father might approve of. \nWe had never been fond of dogs, but something was strange about this one. We named him John (the biblical John of course), and though John had no illusions of being the alpha of the house next to my hard working mother, his posture and attitude was very strange. Even from the time he was young he would always stare down any visitors of the house while resting on his hind legs. No matter if you met his eyes or even made a game out of John’s intensity, he was incredibly unwavering. John wasn’t much for playing either. If you threw a tennis ball near him he would either bark his disapproval or either stare at you as though he thought better of you and you had let him down. “Are you kidding me?” John might reply. He barked at men with long hair and hated people that wore hats and bright colors and most peculiar of all one day as I came home after school he was staring at me just as he might any day after school, however now he perched himself up in one of my father’s old armchairs. And for whatever reason someone had turned the light on which was shining against his dark black and brown fur and skin with his closed mouth and eyes fixed upon me. My mother was standing across the room next to the kitchen with the same perplexed look as me. My mother and I made eye contact and began to laugh and smile, but of course John found nothing about the situation funny as he kept his gaze fixed straight at me mouth closed, and I couldn’t help but cast my face more seriously and avert my eyes as a stranger might.\n", "\"Pluto..Pluto, come back!\", Aisha yelled as she chased her puppy. \n\nHe had been adopted from the local shelter a month ago. An adorable,10 week old Lab, he brought back joy and laughter to the Dastoor family. \nAisha knew he was the perfect one from the way his dark, liquid eyes looked at her happily when she entered the shelter. She felt a connection to him, an instant attraction. When she took him home, he seemed to bond with great ease with her mother and her grandfather.\nThe old man wasn't a big fan of pets, but Pluto seemed to melt his heart too. Aisha saw him chuckle at him from time to time, something she had not seen him do since his son's demise. \n\nSurprisingly, the puppy knew the ways through and around their house as if he had always lived there! \n\n[to be continued, my ideas just stopped flowing. Also if this serves as a prompt for you, please continue..]\n\n\n" ]	2
	[WP] Before color photos the world was actually in black and white.	[ "Every evening I go to the edge of the Santa Monica pier to see the ocean, and every evening I come to the same conclusion. That the emptiness I feel is real. I feel the warmth of the sun against my skin, but am cold. I witness the waves crash against the sand, yet they are dull. I can taste my food, with all of its texture, but no flavor. Everything is a shade darker or a shade lighter, with no variety. Life itself is a trap; a promise of freedom and beauty, but adhering to a strict consistency. Like an empty wine glass waiting to be filled and drunk from, this life craves to be filled. Many men have stepped on the same places as I have. Slept in the same places I have slept. Yet they do not empathize; they merely stand in a line and follow one another off a cliff, and no one deviates from the road. Like the final piece to a puzzle, something in this world is missing that will connect the dots. That's when I saw it. A piece of paper face down against the boards. It was a picture, and I picked it up and saw a glimpse of what I had been missing. I didn't know what it was, but it made my entire body shine like a lighthouse. I looked up, and everything that embodied the Earth was filled. I saw true beauty; a division from the ocean and the clouds. I could determine where the smells of the seashore came from. Everything was so vibrant, and the sunset; O the sunset, was something that I only read about in stories past. That picture that I saw opened my eyes like I was blind, and saw the world in a whole new light.", "It was an infection. A pestilence from hell, a punishment of some sort. Some said it was the War that started it, others merely thought we were victims of some outside force. It was altering in a way that was completely indescribable, it was what a sour note looked like, if that made any sense at all. At first, it was easy to contain, it was like any other disease, quarantine those afflicted, burn the objects that were notably infused with the disease. It infected objects. That's when we began to realize that this was not a normal disease. The infected did not die, they did not even show symptoms of poor health, they functioned as normally as people could after being... altered. Scientists of any field threw themselves into studying the phenomenon, hoping, praying for a solution. Politicians tried to calm the masses, \"We're close to a cure, please be patient,\" they'd say. For a time, our world was united in a worldwide threat to normalcy. Then, we began to lose hope. We heard of places completely saturated in the disease, where almost nothing remained unstained. People were driven mad, seeing loved ones wear a completely different face. As all changes come that we do not choose, it came in force, there was no stopping it. Soon, we stopped trying. An entire generation had been lost by this point, an entire generation of children who did not know the peace of the old world, they only knew this new, wild, vibrant world. They didn't know the serenity we once had. Names began to form for the shades of this new spectrum. \"Green\" \"azul\" \"rouge\". We did not approve, but we did not stop them. The world was a different place. It is a different place. Though they may never know the joys of a perfect shale, or a crisp eggshell, they must find their own culture. This world of color was meant for an age not ours. " ]	2
	[WP] Two roads diverge in a yellow wood, and I took the one more traveled by.	[ "\"Choose.\" \n\nTwo paths laid before me within the autumn-colored forest, one gently slopped downward on curving hills and the other spiked upward on a craggy mountainside full of sharp boulders and unpleasant twists and turns. \n\nThe statue between depicted a sphinx of some sort, except it carried somber eyes like it lost someone dearly. \n\n\"Choose\" A voice within the statue's stone called out to me. I was no idiot, it was obviously clear of what I had to choose. The sloping path represented an easy and most likely wrong direction to my goal, it was covered in faded footprints to suggest people travel it more frequently. The other represented challenge and reward, that somehow making my life more difficult will reap grand opportunity. \n\nHeroes were meant to pick the harder way, right? That all who want glory must earn it, but that is not heroic that's arrogance. Why would someone knowingly take the long way if not just for bragging and fueling their martyr complex. A hero does not look for trouble, it is thrust upon them. \n\nThis entire thing is a test. I don't know who organized it but it became clear that it centers around me and this choice of path. Will I the hero of my story take the path to glory or follow everyone else in the mindless pace of the easy path? \n\nWithout a second glance, I took to the gentle slopes. The Sphinx made no movement or suggestion from my decision, but I could tell its eyes held a curiosity. ", "“I’ve only read the one.” Lieutenant told me. He rolled the dice. He took seven steps and climbed a ladder.\n\nI smiled at Lieutenant and took the dice and gave them a shake close to my ear. Lieutenant laughed at that every time. “Telling you, they ain’t weighted. So your class has been good then?” I nodded at him and answered, “I hadn’t read a lot of poetry before, but I’ve read a lot of Frost now. Bit of Steven Wallace and Ezra Pound. My professor doesn’t like Ezra Pound personally, but feels it’s important to study his work. Each class we spent more time talking about his fascist propaganda than his poems.”\n\nLieutenant nodded, looking at my hand holding the dice. I rolled. Hit a shoot and plummeted back to the beginning.\n\n“So you like studying books huh?”\n\n“Yea.” I answered.\n\n“How do you plan on making money studying books?”\n\nI didn’t answer him.\n\n“I think learning is one of the smartest things a person can do. And I will say that someone who reads a lot of books is loads more interesting to talk to than people who don’t. But who’s gonna pay you to read books?”\n\n“You gonna roll the dice, Louis?” He picked up the dice and grinned at me. “I twisted you the wrong way huh? Don’t listen to me. I’m just a stupid old man who only read Robert Frost the once.”\n\n“No, you’re right. But I want to make my work important. Sure, books ain’t practical. I wish I could read a book as fast as I could watch a sitcom. I had to learn how to enjoy the hours spent laying around reading instead of watching a clock to see how many pages I’ve read in an hour.” Lieutenant rolled and one of the dice went under a wheelchair. I had to ask the other resident to move his feet so I get it. He was unresponsive, but snoring. I pushed his wheelchair back softly by his knees and he rolled towards a wall. I handed the die back to the Lieutenant. He rolled and moved his piece towards the finish.\n\n“I wanted to be in movies, kid.”\n\n“You did?”\n\n“I also wanted to sing. And be the mayor of Montgomery. I wanted to be popular. That wasn’t in the dice.”\n\n“Don’t say that.”\n\n“It’s true. I was born ugly, raised ugly, and nobody in Montgomery loved a Reynold. So I labored. Moved rock and dirt. I worked till my hands became calloused to a knot, that they had to pry the shovel out of my hands.” He pantomimed the action for me and I laughed. “I ain’t got much to show for it, but I had a good time. Always ate good and always paid the rent.”\n\n“Don’t you think that life could’ve been better if you were mayor?” I asked then rolled and moved my piece.\n\n“Sure, and I would have marched in every parade and handed everybody a Christmas goose. But I’ll let you in on a secret you only learn when you’re thirty and still reaching for the moon. It’s always gonna be out of reach, so appreciate the fact that you got your feet on the ground.”\n\nI nodded back at Lieutenant, and we finished the game. He won by a mile. \n" ]	2
This was adapted from an idea put forward in an Askreddit post. I thought it would make for an interesting story idea. Thanks for any responses	[WP] World War 3 breaks out between the USA and Russia, leaving the American and Russian astronauts on the International Space Station stranded.	[ "Everyone was agitated. Most of all, the scientists put their love for the job first, and tried not to talk about politics. At first, everyone was at peace to die together, with hopes to finish their reports of the existing experiments to go.\n\nThe American astronauts were trying to get into contact with their families on an hourly basis. But none of their communication equipment was working. They weren't sure if it was because they were intentionally being blocked, or if the ground was too busy to relay their signal. Either way, they seemed to think the Russians had a way of interfering. \n\n\"What do you want?\" Pavel asked.\n\n\"Nothing, I know you all have been plotting against us. All I'm asking is that you let us use 5 minutes of phone use so we can say goodbye to our families.\" Cindy replied.\n\n\"We have no such capabilities, our lines are as reliable as yours are.\" Pavel answered.\n\n\"Then why do you and Mikhail keep using the computers in secret?\" Cindy asked.\n\nMikhail was just around the corner and makes eye contact with Cindy, then Pavel. \"Should we tell them?\"\n\nPavel looks confused, then agrees, \"Yes, we'll tell you why, get Adam over here and we'll explain.\"\n\nAdam was the lead of the American team, which included 4 members at the time of the war going off. Cindy was his deputy. They both agree to a meeting with Mikhail and Pavel on the Russian side of the station.\n\n\"So you know about the resupply ship that came in 2 days ago?\" Mikhail asked.\n\n\"Yes.\" Adam answered.\n\n\"Well, it's not the typical Soyuz that comes it.\" \n\n\"What do you mean?\" Adam inquired.\n\n\"It's a fully dressed ship that is usually used for re-manning missions. We decided to keep it docked until mission control gave us coordinates to send it off.\" \n\n\"And?\"\n\nMikhail and Pavel looked at each other again. Pavel answers the inquiry, \"Well, we didn't get as much supplies because the ship wasn't designed for resupply, but that also means that it has more fuel in it than we were expecting.\"\n\n\"Are you saying that we have a chance to go back to land?\" Cindy said excitedly. Adam grabbed her shoulder to hold back her emotions.\n\n\"If you're saying this thing can take off, how can I take your word for it?\" Adam demanded.\n\nMikhail showed concern on his face. He was expecting a response like this. \"Look, I understand the frustrations, but please hear us out. The craft only holds 4 people at a time, and there is no way that we could safely fit any more than that. There are 6 of us on station, 2 of us, and 4 of you guys. I think that it is only fair to have 2 from each nation go down. That means two of you guys have to stay back.\"\n\nCindy and Adam contemplated for a moment in the background. Cindy made the point that they could try to steal it, but Adam said that this is the last chance for anyone on the ship, that he and Alex would stay back, and that Cindy and Eric could go back down to land. Cindy initially felt ill about it all, but given the opportunity to see home again, she trusted Adam's judgement.\n\n\"Fine, when do we leave and where do we land?\" Adam asked.\n\nPavel responded. \"it should be ready to go tomorrow morning, 0500 zulu. We'll be landing in the gulf of Mexico. That way you all have a chance to go to America and we have a chance to go to Cuba.\"\n\nAdam was a little taken back. It was actually a very good idea. No where else in the world was there a more convenient place for an American and a Russian to part ways. Given the area was likely a little more fortified, Adam knew that it was still a sound plan.\n\n\"Fine, but what do we do to prevent getting shot out of the sky?\" Adam asked.\n\n\"Easy, send a morose code signal to your mission controller. That seems to be the only thing that works on our side. You can change the frequencies on our radio. Send them a code telling them not to shoot down an approaching spacecraft over the Florida area.\" Pavel explained.\n\n\"And if they don't listen?\" Adam asked.\n\n\"Well, that's a risk we'll have to take.\" Pavel answered.\n\nThe next morning, Adam prepared Eric on the situation. Alex didn't object to anything, he was a little more relaxed than the rest of the crew. He was single and not expecting anything to go his way. Eric, Cindy and Adam all had families.\n\nAdam made sure not to have his crew board without the Russians on board first. Pavel showed Adam the station controls to seal the dock and release the load. They even practice on a spare node that wasn't connected to a fuse. Adam had it down.\n\nMikhail showed Alex how to strap everyone in properly. It wasn't hard. After the dress rehearsal, everyone was anxious to get going. Adam stayed on station while the other five were helping each other on the Soyuz ship. Cindy and Eric were strapped in first, then Alex moved to the Russians.\n\nJust as Alex tried to strap in Mikhail, the harness snapped. Mikhail explained where the spare drawer was on the station. Alex started floating towards the docking station to retrieve it. Little did he know that he was being followed. \n\nWith both Cindy and Eric strapped in front and unable to see what was going on, Mikhail and Pavel started following Alex, unbeknown to him. Just as Alex left the ship and entered the station, Mikhail shot him twice with a small pistol.\n\nBefore Adam could react to what was going on in front of him, Pavel aimed his gun and hit Adam square between the eyes. Adam and Alex were done for. That only left Eric and Cindy in the Soyuz.\n\n\"Cindy, are you ready for your last ride?\" Mikhail asked as he disconnected the mic.\n\nCindy and Eric were shocked. How were the Russians over the loudspeaker?\n\nCindy and Eric screamed, both of them started shaking and tried to release the harnesses to no avail.\n\nPavel started the seal and release sequence. Mikhail contacted Russian Mission Control.\n\n\"Operation Nobel Dart is a go!\" Mikhail told his commander on ground.\n\n\"Roger two four. MC is standing by!\" An unknown voice responded.\n\nPavel pushed the bodies of the two deceased Americans into the Soyuz craft. It was timed out just perfectly. After the bodies entered, Mikhail shut the doors. Cindy and Eric felt helpless.\n\n\"MC, release procedures on your go!\" Mikhail said over the phone.\n\n\"3\"\n\"2...\"\n\"1, release!\"\n\nMikhail and Pavel pushed the button at the same time and the Soyuz craft started drifting away slowly.\n\n\"It's a shame, that we won't be able to see it. Only the aftermath of the destruction.\" Mikhail explained. Pavel was confused.\n\n\"I thought they were headed towards the arctic, to be taken as POWs.\" Pavel responded.\n\n\"That's what you were briefed. Do you know why we selected the Gulf of Mexico to land?\" Mikhail asked.\n\n\"No, why?\"\n\n\"Because not a single American weapon can shoot down a re-entering spacecraft that changes direction after de-orbit.\"\n\n\"Changes direction, towards what?\"\n\n\"D.C. The Soyuz craft will re-enter the atmosphere between Guam and Hawaii. The Americans expect it to land somewhere near Florida. It will not. Once it is over Mexico, we will be able to punch the 2nd and 3rd stage rockets and it will be over D.C in a matter of minutes.\"\n\n\"And then what?\"\n\n\"Four American astronauts will be part of the first nuclear payload delivered in WWIII, two of them get front row seats\" Mikhail said with an accomplished grin.\n", "April 21, 2025 \n\n11:57 PM, Pacific Time\n\n\"So, Pyotr, what are your plans when you get home?\" Charles asked as he drifted across the observation module. Below them was the western edge of the Pacific Ocean, the brilliant lights of America's western cities twinkling in the darkness far below.\n\nPyotr snorted. \"My home is not the same as it was when I left. I'm a citizen of the Russian Federation, not the New Soviet Russian Republics. They don't care about anyone up here. As far as they care, Vladislav, Dmitry and I are all dead.\"\n\nPyotr's remark left a loud silence in the pod. Charles stared down at the earth's surface. It looked so peaceful from afar. The young astronaut stared down at the clusters of lights, trying to identify them. Seattle, LA, Salt Lake, Las Vegas...\n\n\"Hey, Charles, look,\" Pyotr said. \n\nCharles raised his head. \"Hm?\" he asked.\n\n\"Up north. Coming over western Canada. See those?\" \n\nCharles looked. Coming over the top of the polar ice cap were at least fifty bright fireballs. Further east was another, smaller group of fireballs.\n\n\"What do you think those are?\" Charles asked.\n\n\"I don't know. They all look like they would be coming out of the NSRR, though,\" Pyotr said. \n\nThey watched as the fireballs arced over the US, and then mysteriously vanished.\n\n\"Well, that was weird. What do you think it was?\" Charles asked Pyotr.\n\nPyotr furrowed his brow. \"I don't know. But I do not think it was anything good--ARGH!\"\n\nA maelstrom of brilliant lights erupted in the dark space above America. Charles and Pyotr shut their eyes and lifted their hands to their faces. \n\nWhen the lights died, the two spacemen blinked the blindness out of their eyes and looked back down. They were now above America's Midwest, with a clear view of both coasts. The situation on the surface was different now. The lights of America's coastal cities had gone dark. The center of the country was still dark, but the normally luminescent coasts had gone as black as the space around the earth.\n\nCharles pushed off the wall into another module with a communication system. \"ISS to Houston, what's going on?\"\n\n\"No idea. We've lost contact with NORAD, and STRATCOM is saying that some of the air force's F-22s saw a 'meteor shower' near the border. They say there was a nu-det at 120 miles.\"\n\n\"Give me a refresher on what nu-det means?\" Charles said.\n\n\"Nuclear detonation.\"\n\nThose two words filled Charles with fear. Several of his comrades, including Pyotr, had entered the module and looked rigid with terror.\n\n\"We're trying to get a more accurate detail on the situation now. We'll get back to you in a bit. Houston out.\"\n\nIt was seven hours before Houston's next hail. The voice from the ground was high-pitched and terrified.\n\n\"Houston to ISS. We've got word from the coasts. Eastern People's Alliance forces have landed on the coasts. All along both the Western and Eastern Seaboards. Thousands of them.\"\n\n\"Houston, what do you mean?\" Pyotr asked, as he was the first one to reach the comm.\n\n\"It means we're at war!\" screamed the ground controller.\"America's being invaded as we speak!\"\n\nThe astronauts all looked at each other. The words seemed to ricochet around the room. America. Invaded. War.\n\n\"We'll send supply rockets as frequently as we can, but we can't do much. All we can do is hope that the army can keep us free. Best of luck, gentlemen.\" \n\n \n", "It was 1000 GMT when the signals went dead. 0600 New York time, where Jim grew up. He wondered now, fleetingly, if he would ever see the Burroughs again. If he never made it back, he’d never see his father’s grave either. Thankfully he passed away a couple of months ago, and did not have to go through the trial by fire that so many in the world had to face at this time. \n\n“An odd comforting thought.” Jim softly said, staring out the small window that currently had a wonderful view of the Ocean.\n\n“What was that?” Cmdr. Paul asked, as he made his way up into the observation pod that Jim was currently occupying. \n\n“Oh, nothing Paul. I was just in my own head.” Jim replied. Paul looked at him, seemingly satisfied with the answer, before turning to peer out the window as well. Jim had known Paul awhile now; they had gone through training together. He knew that Paul probably had a good idea right now what was on his mind. It was on everyone’s mind. Jim knew what was on Paul’s mind right now as well.\n\nPaul and his wife, Mary, had a newborn daughter two months before their mission to the ISS started. Many nights they had forgotten the difficulties of living in Space by laughing at the video messages Mary sent of little Grace spitting out her mushed peas, or cooing lovingly at the camera while Mary attempted to produce da-da noises from the little girl. Many nights Paul had told Jim about the great adventure of being married, trying to convince Jim to settle down, and join him in his bliss he had found. Yes, Jim knew what was on Paul’s mind. It was on everyone’s mind. It was where none of them would ever go again.\n\nEarth. Home.\n", "When the klaxon had stopped blaring, the crew wandered to the Earthside cupola, somberly watching the indigo and malachite land as it flowed past. The ICBMs streaked across the darkening horizon, fading away as they dropped through the exosphere. \"Impact in 10 seconds.\" A man sobbed softly. Peter squeezed Valeriya's hand, holding her close. The group held their breath until the first blinding dot appeared. Tiny, yet enormous flashes speckled the terrain, giving them eye spots that would last for days. At that moment, every American and Russian, Englishman and Chinaman and mourned together as hundreds of millions of souls whimpered before silently perishing, snuffed out in an instant. Billions more would die under the putrefying hold of a nuclear wind. The shouts from ground control faded away as the EMP's effects effectively shut down their electronics, quieting them. \n\nThere was a radio silence.", "Tyurin spat. It had been three days since he was ordered to close the hatch on the Americans. Men he had known and become close friends with, he could now only see through the hatch window, and speak with only when the safety of the station was in question.\n\nHe looked at his two colleagues, both had dejected expressions. Because of the morons in Moscow everything they had been working towards their entire lives was in jeopardy. If he opened the hatch it would mean immediate exile for his family, friends and colleagues - and probably his quiet death when he landed on the steppes of Kazakhstan. If he left it closed, Wakata, Swanson and Mastracchio would be left to die.\n\n-----\n\n\"Rick,\" the noise from the radio broke the silence \"have you heard anything from the Russians?\"\n\nMastracchio snapped back to reality. \"CAPCOM - we're silent up here. The hatch is still closed. Any news on the egress plan?\"\n\nWhile NASA had contingencies for every eventuality in the mission rules - nobody had thought this one would have to be invoked. Luckily the Dragon spacecraft - which was supposed to depart a week ago - was still berthed to the station. They had a lifeboat. Unfortunately there weren't any seats.\n\n\"Negative Rick - we're just going to need you to...sit tight for a few more hours while we get Hawthorne back together. We've been working this all night just so you know.\"\n\nThat wasn't comforting. He turned to Koichi: \"So...any ideas?\"\n\nThe Japanese Space Agency, JAXA, was well aware of the issues - but they were helpless. Only the Russians had a truly human-rated vehicle. While SpaceX had reported success and survivability with Dragon, no astronaut had returned on it. It was purely a cargo capsule.\n\n\"Rick, we need to talk to Mikhail and see what the Soyuz status is,\" Koichi pleaded.\n\n\"Kay - you know they won't even talk to us, it would mean death for them at the very least,\" Rick was resigned, \"but we can try.\"\n\nSteve Swanson had been sitting at the hatch separating the Russian and American segments of the station for almost three hours. The three men took shifts. Since the American segment was so much larger the three Russians were almost always in view. They looked pained - they were about to make a decision that would affect all six men for the rest of their lives.\n\n-----\n\nTyurin moved without speaking, he had made the decision and his colleagues would have to live with it. He reached for the hatch and opened it. Immediately an alarm klaxon sounded. His colleague reached to the alarm panel and silenced it. When the war started Moscow had set additional alarms in case the Americans tried to force their way into the Russian segment to leave.\n\nMastracchio gave Tyurin - his friend - a solemn nod of acknowledgement. They all knew what this meant. They could not return to Russia. Rick flicked his COMM switch: \"Houston, we've had a request from the Russian crew for asylum.\"\n\nThe radio was silent - the American radio was silent. In the Russian segment the astronauts were being berated by Moscow informing them of the disservice they'd done to Russia and how they would pay for their disloyalty.\n\nFinally Houston responded, \"Roger Expedition 36, we need you to expedite - please prepare to evacuate the station per plan 37-alpha.\"\n\nThe astronauts worked quickly - the station needed to be set up for an eventual return. Systems moved to standby - experiments moved to the Dragon in order to return to Earth. Moscow had been relieved of what little control they still had over station systems but the astronauts only had a limited amount of time.\n\nWhile the two Americans worked feverishly to load Dragon and prepare it to be jettisoned, the other four crew members began preparations to return to their Soyuz lifeboats. The guidance computers needed to be reprogrammed to use the American abort sites as their primary reentry sites.\n\nSuddenly a loud pop rang out through the station. Pressure alarms in the Russian segment began ringing. Mastracchio and Swanson moved to the hatch as two of the Russians and the commander, Wakata, almost barreled them over. The only one missing was Oleg - Rick noticed a red mist behind them. Oleg had shot himself and in the process destroyed one of the main coolant loops for the station - polluting the Russian segment.\n\nDragon had already been jettisoned - the astronauts were now truly stranded.", "Remember all the different marbles you had as a kid?\nDark green ones, bright red ones, stunningly clear blue ones and the one as dark as the night?\n\nThat one black marble always fascinated me. It seemed impossible to look through but if you held it up to a really bright light you could see a faint shimmer, as if somehow within all that blackness lied a big secret.\n\nThe most famous photograph in the world, taken by Jack Schmitt aboard Apollo 17, was aptly named the Blue Marble. It is the first photo which showed the world just how fragile the earth really is. Today I realized what an omen that picture has been.\n\nFor when I look out of the Cupola today, all I see is the same black marble that fascinated me on the playground 30 years ago.\nIt was here in this observatory where we crunched together to watch a staggering amount of missiles and explosions cover the earth. It was amazing to see how quickly the black clouds shrouded the once blue marble. The scene was so surreal that it took us several minutes to realize that there everyone we'd ever known couldn't possibly exist anymore. Our loved ones, our enemies, all disappeared over the course of 17 minutes. All that remained was a black smoke. When we orbit the side of the earth the sun shines on, we can see faint glimmers of light. Andrei suspects they're the result of the toxic gasses mixing with the radioactive waste. I'd like to think of them as the secret within the marble.\n\nWe've determined that the last voice from earth we have ever heard was that of Flight Director Gene Wyndorf. Chris was the one to speak to him but all of us were listening intently. \"At this point, we're not exactly sure what's going on in Oklahoma but we're doing our darndest to find out,\" Gene's voice had clattered over the headphones. Radio communication had already deteriorated a lot at that point. The Russians had completely cut off communications by that time, we theorized out of fear of slipping information to the enemy. \"Rest assured, ev... man and woman here is doing their utmost ... get you all home. You guys just hang tight, okay?\"\n\nAs Gene had continued speaking I vaguely wondered why they were still trying to communicate with us at that point. Surely there were more important things for them to do at this point, such as finding a nuclear shelter. Thirty minutes later I realized it was all for naught anyway. Gene and everyone else had by all likelihood now deteriorated to something indistinguishable from sand.\n\nI descended from the Cupola into the Tranquility and was greeted by a weary-eyed but excited Lee. \"Come on man, Andrei says he has found something important!\" he said as he maneuvered back towards the Kibo, the former Japanese laboratory.\n\nAfter the black clouds formed we ditched the formal assignments and most of the regulations and Andrei had found spending time in the Kibo the most preferable. I settled upon spending my days in the Cupola until the food run out. Hell, I wasn't a scientist, there wasn't much I could contribute to whatever they were doing anyway.\n\nAs we arrived in the Kibo Andrei was in a heated discussion with Anika. \"What else CAN we do Anika, you're the one in charge of food supplies, you know how critically low we are right now!\" Andrei shouted. After the incident Andrei hadn't bothered to cut his hair or shave and now his blonde hair was long and standing up in every direction, thanks to the lack of gravity. Anika gave him a look of frustration and replied firmly: \"I don't care what you say. Spending the rest of our lives here doing something meaningful has to be better than killing ourselves.\"\n\n\"You call this meaningful? Chris never leaves his laptop writing some half-assed manifesto no one will ever read and Alex never leaves the god-damn Cupola since he's to busy mourning the whole world\" Andrei spat out, before turning his head to see Lee and me entering the module. His face instantly deflated. \"I'm sorry Alex, I didn't mean to.. You know what I mean, right?\"\n\nI did. We've been stuck in a metal cage, presumably the last humans to ever live, for 7 months. If there ever was a time to contemplate and debate the meaninglessness of existence, now was it.\n\nClearing my throat, I replied to Andrei: \"Nevermind that, what have you found?\"\n\"Well, it's not really what I've found, it's more of a theory,\" Andrei replied, a nervous look spreading over his face, \"I think we can go back.\"\n\"Back? Back where?\" Lee asked incredulously, \"there is nothing to go back to.\"\n\n\"I've been wondering why the black smoke stays within the atmosphere, why the atmosphere is still surviving at all. By all rights it should have dissolved with the amount of pollution in the air. I think the blackness isn't toxic smoke spread throughout the atmosphere, but a thin layer of magnetic light-deflecting particles. They allow light from the sun to pass through, but don't allow it to deflect back into space. We should be able to pass through them in the Soyuz.\"\n\nI wanted to believe him, I really did, but I immediately realized why Anika looked so agitated. Still, I motioned for him to continue. \"The reason we sometimes see the shimmers is because the particles aren't perfectly orientated,\" he continued, \"with varying weather they'll sometimes loose their alignment.\"\n\n\"Why? Why would they put that in the air?\" Anika interjected, \"It makes no sense!\"\n\"I don't know yet, but I know it's true, I just know it is!\" Andrei was moving his hands rapidly as he spoke. \"Maybe they're covering up the earth against the spy satellites, or using the particles as a deflector for further missile attacks.\"\n\nI could see the frantic hope that had settled under Andrei's skin. Heck, I understood it. Humans don't do well without a purpose, and being cooked up in a metal cylinder for 7 months does something to any man, no matter how strong.\n\n\"Listen, I want to reprogram the Soyuz and get down there. Even if the atmosphere is intoxicating they'll still be able to pickup on our position and send help. Who's with me?\"\n\nLee looked at Andrei and pensively nodded. Anika looked shocked. \"You can't be serious,\" she said, \"you're going to kill yourself.\"\nShe looked at me in a desperate plea for help. \"Tell 'em Lex, this is pointless!\"\nI looked at her and felt a pang of betrayal gnawing at me as I said: \"Alright, let's do it.\"\n\n-\n\nA few hours later the tension was high as we maneuvered stuff around the station in preparation for the launch. I avoided Anika as much as possible. I found it hard to endure the helpless defeated look on her face and tried to distance myself from it. As I mindlessly shoved the station guitar into an airlock it hit Chris.\n\nBeing bald meant that the beard he had grown in the past few months looked all the more impressive. \"So, you're really going?\" he asked.\nI scanned his face thoroughly for a hint of what he was thinking, but he was shrouded in a layer of indifference ever since the earth went out. \n\nThe only thing that was occupying Chris' time now was the writing of a large document detailing what had happened to humanity and filled with the last thoughts of one of the survivors.\nHe planned to make copies on every laptop on the station and send them in different directions into space, in the hope one day our story may be heard. I admired his dedication to the thing, however futile it seemed to me.\n\nHe grabbed the guitar and looked at it while a frown formed on his face. \"We once played Cash on this.\"\n\n\"We did.\"\n\n\"I enjoyed it. Want to do it one last time?\" he asked.\n\nI was tempted to decline his offer citing lack of time but I was suddenly struck by the request and the absurdity of the situation.\nWe were friends once, good friends. What would it say of me, someone with literally all the time in the world, to decline a friend who I'd never see again one last act of companionship. As we settled in opposing corners of the cramped module Chris struck the first chord and as the first words of \"Ring of Fire\" filled the air I found myself crying over the immense loss of it all.\n\n-\n\n(character limit, see next post)", "Sergei sobs gently. I can't see the tears running down his face, his visor obscures that. But I can hear him quietly sobbing. And I can see him, floating there, suspended, gazing towards that giant blue marble.\n\nOnly it isn't so blue anymore. Nuclear fire fills its atmosphere. \n\nI'm floating only a few metres away from him. We had scheduled maintenance on the station for today. Our space walk had begun only ten minutes ago. In ten minutes, everything had changed. \n\nMy comms chime in. The mournful tune of a guitar fills my ears, played by a crew member within the station.\n\nSergei has ceased sobbing. I float my way over to him.\n\n\"Who do you think fired first?\" He says to me, his accent thick. \"My country, or yours?\"\n\n\"What does it matter Sergei? Our countries no longer exist. Our planet, indeed, everything we knew has ceased to exist.\"\n\nHe turns his head towards me, the fires on Earth reflected in his visor.\n\n\"It is strange to think, that out here...in this most hostile and...inhospitable of all environments...so far away from our homes, our families...that together, on this station, humanity has learned to co-exist better than on Earth.\"\n\nAnd there, together, united not by race or by country, Sergei and I floated. \n\nUnited not by race or country.\n\nBut as humans.", "They say that war changes everything. That's true to a point, but there's another truth worth mentioning: War changes very little. What surprising in this regard, is that these two statements are not contradictory. War doesn't break down buildings in itself, nor does it kill thousands of soldiers and civilians. What it does to, however, is change the way we view the world and through these new glasses, we choose to commit the horrible acts that we attribute to war itself.\n\nWe can see the planet from up here. Every once in a while, we will spot a sharp light originate on its surface, the telltale sign of a nuclear explosion. Sometimes it happens in America, sometimes in Russia and occasionally in some entirely different country. We comfort each other; rest a hand on a shoulder when a friend's country is hit. It's an empty gesture though. Although my hand may rest on an American's shoulder now, we both know that I feel little but relief that my country wasn't the one hit.\n\nHe knows it. I know it. The only reason we comfort each other is to keep up the meaningless charade, the one line of dignity that keeps the war from erupting up here too.\n\nWhen there's a winner, we'll come back down. If my country wins, the Americans will be taken prisoner, as will I if their country wins. We are all just sitting here hoping for each other's countrymen to die. It was a slow realization at first but it's one we have all come to. We have never spoken a word of it to anyone but we all feel it.\n\nWorst of all, I have begun to see them as enemies. They see me the same way, even if that sight never becomes an action. We all know that for either of us to win, the other must lose. Some of us will spend our lives as prisoners while the others will be treated as heroes. It's a zero-sum game and one that we are powerless to influence. The coin has been tossed and now we are just patiently waiting for it to fall.\n\nI suppose that metaphor is only made more apt by the vast emptiness of space. There's no gravity and the metaphorical coin hangs in the air, refusing to fall. We sit. We wait. We watch. Nothing happens. The station is the same as it has always been, but war has changed everything. We no longer see the world the same way and the silent joy creeps up on us whenever an explosion is spotted in an enemy country. The joy scares me more than anything. It's a perversion of the sadness I should be feeling that humans have died.\n\nThese people have helped me out so many times in the past, yet now I sit here hoping that their country will suffer extreme losses, all so mine won't have to. Space seems more silent than ever now and I can't even remember the last time any of us really had an honest conversation with each other. Our station is the same, the layout and its people are all as they were months ago, yet somehow war has changed it all.", "“Hey Dave,” Chuck said, left hand resting against the window as his right hand grasped the bar below it to stabilize himself. \n\n“Yeah?”\n\n“Remind me, was Russia always on fire?”\n\nDave floated over to the window, his legs splayed out behind him like Superman. He lightly bumped into Chuck, who shifted to the right to allow Dave to fit. \n\n“I’m going to be honest with you, Chuck, I’m not entirely sure.”\n\nChuck stared out the window. Russia—or at least what he thought was Russia, it was pretty hard to tell when the Earth didn’t have labels on it—was shrouded in a dark, enveloping smoke. He tried to think back to earlier in the week, even just a few days ago, to when they had last floated above Russia. He recalled, although he couldn’t be entirely sure, that Russia had not been a giant, abstract blob of smoke all those hours ago. It might have had some ice or something.\n\n“Dave, I’m pretty sure Russia wasn’t on fire last time we were over it,” he said. Chuck turned to his right and looked at Dave, his forehead pressed against the plastic window as he stared down toward Earth. Dave’s long, greasy hair floated wildly an all directions, reminding Chuck of a picture of Medusa he had seen as a child. He’d always liked Medusa, although he figured it’d be pretty difficult to feed snakes when they lived on your head. He also had the deep, burning question of how the snakes went to the bathroom. Did they just pee all over Medusa’s head? Or did they pee inside of it, right into into her brain? \n\n“Are you sure? I mean, the Sun was always on fire, right?”\n\n“Yeah, the Sun was definitely on fire before today. I’m positive about that one.” Chuck thought back to the day they had launched into space. He had spent the morning staring at the Sun, the result of misunderstanding the mission they had been assigned. He had thought they were to be the first people to land on the Sun to perform scientific experiments, and decided to stare at it in order to begin preliminary research. He later learned, after almost severely damaging his vision, that they were not going to the Sun. They were simply going to be orbiting the Earth in an automated shuttle. Apparently it was to study the “effects of space on the unsupervised mentally handicapped,” whatever that meant.\n\n“Well, Russia might have been on fire too then. I mean, why would only one thing be on fire? Have you ever seen just one thing on fire?”\n\nChuck glanced back out the window and thought about the question. Had he ever seen only one thing on fire? He’d seen a wildfire once, and there were definitely multiple things on fire then. Mostly trees, a few animals, and one firefighter. What a crappy firefighter, getting lit on fire like that. He should’ve fought that fire a little better. \n\n“Not that I can think of,” Chuck said.\n\n“Exactly. Plus, look at America over there. It looks like it’s also on fire.”\n\nChuck pressed his forehead against the cold plastic of the window. America was definitely on fire, the same black cloud floating over it as had Russia. In fact, there seemed to be several thin streaks of what appeared to be smoke tracing back and forth between America and Russia. It was as if a child had drawn thin, arcing, gray lines between the two, with each ending in gigantic, fiery craters.\n\n“America definitely wasn’t always on fire, Dave,” Chuck said. “I grew up there and I was not on fire.” Chuck was sure he hadn’t been on fire. He had once burned himself on two lit candles when he tried to bring them up to his room, though. It hurt, he ended up dropping them on the floor and having to stomp out the flames. “Well, America was on fire once when I dropped a candle, but that’s it.”\n\nDave gasped and pointed to the window.\n\n“Look! America just exploded a little bit,” he said. Chuck followed Dave’s finger, his eyes stopping at a clearly visible blob of what appeared to be fire. A thin, arcing gray line extended from the light all the way back to Russia. \n\n“That definitely wasn’t there before,” Chuck said. Dave nodded in agreement, then pushed off the wall. Chuck watched as he floated backwards toward the interior of the shuttle.\n\n“Where are you going?” Chuck said.\n\n“Getting my iPhone. Somebody needs to call the fire department.”\n________\n[^If ^you ^enjoy ^my ^writing ^style, ^feel ^free ^to ^check ^out ^some ^of ^my ^others ^short ^stories/prompts ^at ^my ^site!](http://wordsontheinternet.org/)\n" ]	9
	[WP] Write about something that happened in your life recently. Except write it like a fairy tale, with a moral to teach the reader.	[ "In a far away land called Nahncents, there were two boys that were the same age, but apart from that, they were almost complete opposites. The first boy whose name was Hurk was big and strong and good looking, not exactly the sharpest tool in the shed and was liked by all. The second boy whose name was Oiler was short and frail, plain, but very intelligent and was pretty much a loner his entire childhood.\n\nWell once they had grown up Hurk was great at catching 1 or 2 animals a week using his strength, but Oiler ended up catchin 10 or more with his gadgets. Hurk was able to lift big stones 1 at a time to help build new houses but Oiler figured out a contraption that allowed stones to be moved almost without effort. Hurk was also able to help keep the village safe against outsiders by killing 1-2 attackers, but Oiler was the one that made enough traps that no one attacked this village of Nahncents anymore.\n\nAnd so of course the town of Nahncents let Hurk have his way with the women and Oiler died alone.\n\nThe moral of the story is if you want your children to grow up and be popular, don't have them do something actually helpful, just have them follow horrible stereotypes that are perpetuated throughout society, and make sure they act like football is the most important thing in the world, and also make sure they never get good at math.", "The Boy\n\nA long time ago, in the kingdom far, far away, lived a boy. He went to school, played outside and loved his momma, just like every other boy!\n\nWhen every boy reached the age of 16, they had to take a test! This test made sure each boy knew how to read properly, do sums and understand science. Everyone was supposed to study hard for the test to make sure they could do it properly. \n\nBut this boy wasn't like everyone else. Oh, no. He was very different! While all his friends were off reading their books again, he was online shooting bad guys. While all his friends were doing questions to make sure they understood mathematics, this boy was busy playing with his brother outside. While all his friends worked hard, this boy was lazy!\n\nThe day came, and everyone went to the hall to take their test. They were all confident, except for the boy, because he didn't know anything! But he finished the test like everyone else, and he lived happily ever after!\n\n...until the test results came back. \n\nKids, be sure to do your homework! ", "The Fable of the Alligator\n\nA young Alligator once realized he did not know what he wanted to do with his life. One day, quite by accident, he found himself in a pond full of crocodiles. He soon discovered he could swim, hunt and snap his jaws as well as any of them. So, he decided to be a crocodile.\n\nYears passed, and the Alligator tried harder and harder to be a crocodile. He even went to Crocodile School. Yet, try as he may to convince himself otherwise, he was unhappy. Yes, the crocodile life was exciting, but competition with other crocodiles was fierce. Many even said that crocodiles were a dying breed. On the other hand, the alligators he encountered were less ferocious, yet they somehow seemed to have more satisfaction and fuller bellies.\n\nFinally, the Alligator realized that he had jumped into the crocodile life too soon, before he could fully consider his options. He now saw that all the traits that made him a good crocodile would have made him a perfectly good alligator as well, albeit for half the stress. Yet, when he tried to rejoin his kind, he found that they had moved so far upstream that he would never reach them. Not wanting to continue his futile efforts to become a crocodile, the Alligator resigned himself to the menial, unfulfilling life of a turtle.\n\nDon't major in fucking journalism." ]	3
	[WP] A world wide natural disaster is about to occur in which only 1 out of every hundred people can be saved. Random conversations between people talking about if they do or don't want to be a part of the saved group.	[ "\"I have the ticket, Chelsea, and I'm giving to you. Just take it for fuck's sake.\" He shoved the laminated card into my hand, unwilling to just let it go. Then, as if that action alone had completely drained him, he slumped against the concrete wall.\n\n\nHe had always been lucky. Hell, he had literally won a free year at college. That's how we'd met, and three years afterwards here we were. Staring our mortality in the face.\n\n\n\"I can't. It's yours. I won't do this to you. Please... Give it to your mom. Your brother. Please.\" The weight of what's happening is still just barely registering with me. The ticket clutched in my hand my only hope of survival, and yet... Why survive alone?\n\n\n\"I'm choosing to give it to you. You can help the survivors, I can't. What could I possibly contribute? At least you're a nurse. You can help take care of those that are left.\" His voice sounded tired. He was sick of arguing, I knew. But I couldn't help but fight him. I couldn't just let him die for me.\n\n\n\"They never said anything was definite. This could still be some radically sick joke. Please don't make me do this. Please.\" My voice was hoarse, but the tears wouldn't come. I had cried them all in the past few days, and there was nothing left.\n\n\nA plague was coming. It had started off in some small third world country, but had spread faster than a wild fire. Scientists were developing a vaccine, but predicted they would only be able to manufacture enough to save 70 million of the 7 billion people that inhabited the earth. Riots sprang up, revolts, people demanding that they deserved the vaccine as much as any world leader or rich person. So the international governments convened, and voted on a lottery. Every country got a certain number of vaccines based on the population, and people would be randomly selected to receive an injection that would supposedly save their lives. The people who won were secretly contacted, and using the utmost care, instructed on where and how to get the vaccine. There had been some who had been too obvious with their good fortune, and had lost their lives to those desperate enough to kill to stay alive. \n\n\nI hadn't known he had won until the day he was meant to receive it. He had asked me to meet him in the basement of the hospital where I worked, insisting on urgency and secrecy. It was there he showed me the white card with the winning code he had been given. And then introduced me to the agent who was meant to give it to him.\n\n\n\"There has to be some rule about this, right? They can't just give it away, can they?\" I looked to the older woman in the lab coat expectantly, eyes landing on the small case handcuffed to her wrist. She stood silently, watching the exchange but refusing to say a word. \n\n\n\"As long as I'm here to give my consent, I can give it to whoever I want.\" His face hardened with determination, eyes looking more blue than I had ever seen them against the red from crying. I wanted to hit him, beat the stubbornness out of him. I hated him right then for springing this insanity upon me. Making me choose between my life and his.\n\n\n\"So why not your family??? Why would you make me live without you?!\" I nearly shouted it, frustrated and tired. So tired. He broke eye contact, eyes moving to the dusty floor.\n\n\n\"It already hit the east coast. They announced it on the news this morning. For all I know, my family is already dead or dying. Please don't make me lose you too.\" He said the last part in a hoarse whisper, laying his head in his hands. My stomach clenched in fear. My sisters... that meant they were gone. I double over, retching, but nothing would come up. I hadn't been able to eat since I'd heard about the plague. I sank to my knees.\n\n\nMy parents, my sisters, my friends, everyone I knew would be gone. He would be gone. And I would be alone. He crouched down next to me, placing his arm around my shoulder, and pulled my shaking form into him. Before I could fight, his grip tightened. He pinned my arms then my legs, his eyes maniacal and wild. \n\n\n\"Do it.\" He muttered through gritted teeth. I screamed and thrashed, trying desperately to buck him off of me as the woman in the lab coat took out a syringe. She made it quick, and the sting of the vaccine was the only thing I could feel when I stopped struggling. It was over. I was alone.\n\n\n6.93 billion people died in the next few weeks. He died in my arms. I couldn't hate him for what he did to me. I could only love him in those last moments before the fever took him. I could only cling to him helplessly as he thrashed and seized. I could only bury him in an unmarked grave, which was more than most of the dead had gotten. ", "“I don’t want to die. I mean, it’s all romantic and shit to be like, ‘I can’t live without my great uncle Papi’, but let’s be serious here. Death is final. Yes, tragedy is terrible, and no one’s getting out of this thing the same, humanity’s going to be all messed up, but I’d rather be emotionally distraught than dead. I can get over emotion. I can’t get over dead. I don’t meant to sound callous, but I think everyone’s thinking like I am thinking. They just don’t want to say it,” Arabella said, kicking her feet as she sat on the brick wall outside their old high school. It was quiet here. The world had become very quiet since the announcement yesterday. Sometimes panic is not a cacophony, but the empty silence of a moonlit night.\n\n“We both aren’t going to get out of this, you know. They say one out of a hundred people are going to die of the radiation poisoning,” Tague whispered, as if afraid of his words breaking the serene quiet and unleashing the hell yet waiting for them.\n\n“Well, that’s average, isn’t it? Both of us are young and healthy. Probably don’t have too many mutations floating around in our DNA. We got to have better odds on us rather than some decrypt octogenarian with one foot in the grave,” Arabella reasoned. She paused a moment, considering her shoe with unnecessary focus. “And even if it were one out of a hundred, that still gives a one out of ten thousand chance we’ll both survive. That’s not nothing.”\n\nTague snorted. “That’s not a whole lot, Arabella.” Arabella shoved him off the wall, which cut off his laughter. She jumped down after him. Although he was the younger, he was the taller. She was forced to raise her chin to meet his eye. \n\n“Hope’s not a whole lot, but it’s not nothing,” Arabella stated forcefully. If she felt what she said, she was doing her damnest not to show it. \n\n“I should go see my family,” Tague said. \n\n“Yeah, I guess I should too,” Arabella said. \n\n~\n\n“I had to bury my son today,” Carlos said. The sun was ferocious, but electricity was on the fritz. Sometimes it was on; sometimes it was off. There were not enough people to man the power station all the time. It made working in the factory hell, but there wasn’t a lot that wasn’t hell now. “Sorry I’m late.”\n\nFatima, his supervisor, nodded. Her radiation scars stretched against her neck. “Don’t let it happen again.” \n\n“How’s Miriam?” Carlos asked. \n\n“Dead,” Fatima said. “So is Matthew. You’ll need to pull double shifts today.”\n\nCarlos nodded. It was the way of the world. Everything was dying, and not just people. Plants too. A famine was on the horizon. It would kill more of the few people still left alive. Carlos had heard the government was considering forcing job reassignment so that necessities like food, water, and communications were consistent for the current survivors. He wasn’t sure how they would manage. It was difficult to get up the energy to do anything, and not all of his fatigue could be blamed on radiation poisoning. \n\nSweat was beading down his arms, making his fingers slick. It made the machines hard to operate. It was dangerous. The heavy machinery could kill him if he were not careful. It was so hard to care sometimes, about anything.\n\nVictor had been the last of his children. Michaela and Nichole had preceded Carlos’s son, and Tessa and her unborn child before that. Carlos’s entire family had largely been wiped off the world, and those that had not yet were very sick and dying. They would die soon. There was no one left. \n\n“Do you think it’s worth it?” Carlos asked Fatima.\n\n“What?” Fatima asked.\n\n“Living. Is living worth the effort?” he asked.\n\n“I don’t know,” Fatima said. \n\n~\n\nChen shouldn’t be alive. His daughter, she should be alive, but he shouldn’t. He was old. He was dying anyway of cancer. He should be dead, but he wasn’t. His daughter, who was young and newly married, should be alive, but she wasn’t. \n\nHe cradled her body against his chest. She had been so cold already that death could steal no warmth from her. She had lost her hair and her skin had been scarred, so death could steal no beauty from her. All that was left for death was her life, and it had taken that small object, a poor semblance of the woman she had been.\n\nIf Chen had tears that could be shed, a waterfall would run down his cheeks and make ravines of his skin. It would form torrents down his shirts and pool in his shoes. However, Chen had no tears. Chen had nothing. All he had was emptiness and a knife. \n\nA blade never tasted so sweet. \n\n~\n\n“You’re alive?” Satesh asked. He had been peddling through the empty city looking for cans of food since his crops he had planted had shown no sign of life. He had thought the few survivors had left the city to try to find sustenance elsewhere than among the abiotic concrete and brick. Some had gown to the government-sponsored shelters, few struck out on their own. None had stayed. He had thought he was alone.\n\nMegumi blinked slowly, as if she couldn’t quite understand. Her mind did not work the way it had before the gamma ray burst and subsequent radiation. Thoughts came slowly, but they still came. Was she alive? “Perhaps. I will need to double-check.”\n\nSatesh hugged her, uncaring. “I haven’t seen you since graduate school.”\n\nShe stared at him blankly, as if he were not there but a voice in the wind. \n\n“It’s Satesh. Sorry, I’m all scarred up now. We were in the same lab together. You were the year above me. You told me I had no understanding of statistics, so you would steal my data from me to analyze, then give it back to me.”\n\n“Satesh. You survived?” she asked. \n\nHe had never thought about it in such absolute terms. Death was always there, overlooking. But weeks had past, and he was still standing. So many others had been laid to rest, but he still stood. Had he actually survived?\n\n“I guess. I guess we survived,” Satesh said. \n\n“Most people didn’t,” Megumi said. “My parents, my boyfriend, my cat, my neighbors.”\n\n“But we did,” Satesh said, still marveling at the words. He was half-expecting some cosmic force to strike him down for saying the audacity of those words when everything else was dying. Yet, he had survived. They had survived.\n\n“I guess we did,” Megumi said, echoing him. She paused, trying to assemble her thoughts. “I don’t know what to do with the bodies. I can’t carry them. Well, I could carry my cat. She’s in the garden. My boyfriend, he’s too heavy.”\n\n“I’ll help you,” Satesh said. They had survived. They needed to help one another. That’s what survivors did. \n\n“Thank you, Satesh,” Megumi said. \n\n~\n\n“What should we name her?” Arabella asked, sitting on the wall of their old high school. She still kicked her feet, wearing the same faded sneakers. They still had a little blood on them from the bedroom delivery hours before. They had managed to find a former obstetrician, but epidurals were still a distant dream like sterile hospitals and shopping malls. Still, the pain had subsided, and pain never seems so sharp under the veil of memory.\n\nTague held the bundle itself where tiny fists and a scrunched face lay nestled within. “Well, we could be really hokey and name her Hope.”\n\n“Shut up. No hokiness,” Arabella said. \n\n“What about Clarissa, after your mother?” Tague asked. \n\n“Hell no. My mom hated her name. If she wasn’t dead, she’d kill me if I tried to name my daughter after her,” Arabella said. \n\n“We could name her after my Mom, Mabel,” Tague said. \n\n“I don’t want to name her after anyone that’s dead,” Arabella said.\n\n“That’s a pretty slim list you got there then,” Tague laughed. “Do you want to make up a name then? Name her something like Phoneticalesia?\n\n“You’re an idiot. I just don’t want her to be a reminder of death. We got enough of that, you know?” Arabella said. \n\n“What about Myriad?” Tague asked.\n\n“I told you, I don’t want a made up name,” Arabella said.\n\n“It used to mean ten thousand,” Tague said. “A long time ago, you know. I think in Greek.”\n\nArabella was silent for a moment, considering it. She then concluded, “Well, Myriad sounds dumb. I don’t want people thinking my daughter is a genetics company.” \n\n“We could name her Mirabella,” Tague suggested.\n\n“That’s way too much like my name, and it sounds too fruffy. Mirabella is a little girl in a pink petticoat with ringlets in her hair,” Arabella said. “Not a post-apocalyptic badass scientist/doctor/president.”\n\n“What about just Myra? Myra could be a badass,” Tague argued. \n\n“I suppose Myra could,” Arabella jumped off the wall and took Myra from Tague’s arms to hold her up to the sky.\n\n“Are you a Myra?” she asked her daughter.\n\nThe baby began to cry.\n\n“I don’t think she likes the name Myra. Or me. One of the two,” Arabella said, quickly handing the child back to Tague.\n\n“That’s not a cry, that’s a badass warrior yell,” Tague laughed. He began cooing at the child who was determined to not let up her screams. \n\n“It looks like she doesn’t like you either. Or she’s really determined to show us her badass warrior yell,” Arabella said. She sighed, leaning back against the wall. “This is going to be difficult, isn’t it? I don’t know the first things about babies, and it’s not like I can ask either of our mothers for help unless you can find a Ouija board or something.”\n\n“It’s not going to be easy, but at least we get that chance to try,” Tague said.\n\n“The one in ten thousand chance,” Arabella said, putting her arm around him and running her fingers over Myra's squalling face. She was such an ugly little thing, but she was strong, and that was what mattered. \n\n“There’s three of us now. It’s one in a million,” Tague whispered." ]	2
Vampires are so done. Let's see how a gnome or a kelpie will do	[WP]: A less-commonly used fantasy creature tries to live their life impersonating humanity	[ "Jenna is what her family called her. She has beautiful auburn hair that goes down to her mid-back. Her skin is bronzed from the sun, with beautiful green eyes. \n\nShe walks in the park, smelling the flowers and watching the children run. She wears clothes that she's not use to, covering herself completely. She knows if someone sees her wings or the feathers that cover her abdomen and back, someone would report her.\n\nShe watches as the other families enjoy their time together, having picnics in the park. She only wondered how long she could pull this off, before she's locked up in a cage, as they do experimental testing on her. \n\nThey have already gotten her family members, she wonders the streets alone. Sleeping in the trees once darkness falls, waking as the sun rises. Luckily she found some clothes on someone's back lawn, hanging on a line, as if they were meant for her.\n\nShe wanders down the street, wondering what to do next.", "My life is meaningless. I don't belong in this world. Everyone is terrified when they see me. All I ever wanted was to have some kind of meaningful connection with someone. \n\nI can't get a decent job, no matter how capable and intelligent I am. \"OH MY GOD!\" \"AHH!\" \"NO!\" That's what they all say when I walk in a room. The world is a cruel place.\n\nSometimes, I think it would be better if I didn't exist. I mean, I will probably never be happy anyway, so what's the point? No matter. I don't even know how I'd go about it anyway. Still, I have a sliver of hope. It's the only thing I can think of that keeps me going: I've recently heard reports of another...another just like me. \n\nI can only imagine what she looks like. She will be able to relate to my struggles. She will be able to understand me. I know she's out there. I just know it...and I will find her. The reports have provided me with her exact location. Today is the day I find her. \n\nAs I leave my home, I walk away slowly, taking in the sunlight and enjoying the warm, summer air. This is the last time I'll ever see this place, for if she doesn't exist, then I will do the world a favor and finally find a way to end my existence. No one wants me here anyway. I turn back and look at the only home I've ever known, and I take one last mental picture; then I walk away, never looking back again. \n\nI never knew my parents. I don't even know if I had any. The first memory I have is of waking up to complete destruction. Everything around me was completely wiped out. I may never know how or why I came to be, but there's no point in dwelling on it. Besides, maybe she'll know some answers when I meet her. I can't believe I'm going to meet her today.\n\nThe journey is a little far, so I try to hail a taxi. The first one that sees me speeds up and takes a hard turn to avoid me. It goes sliding across the street on its roof, and I cringe at the sound of the twisting, scraping metal. I have become so desensitized to this kind of reaction that it doesn't otherwise phase me. Yet, I rush over to help the taxi driver out of his car, but the car bursts into flames as I approach it. I am unable to help him. People are screaming. I have to flee. I know they'll blame me, even though I was just trying to help. The world is a cruel place. \n\nI don't know how long I've been running. My mind has been racing with too many thoughts. \"Will they pursue me? Does she exist? Will they say I murdered the taxi driver? What if she doesn't like me?\" Before I know it, I have reached my destination. I don't even remember the path I took. I was on autopilot. But I am here now, and that is all that matters. I feel butterflies in my stomach as I approach the opening at the top of the mountain. \"What will I say to her?\" \n\nI peer inside...and there she is. She is much more beautiful than I ever could have imagined. She dashes up to me and hugs me without saying a word. I am home. The mountain starts to shake, and I look into her warm, loving eyes. Fire ignites all around us, shooting up and surrounding us in a soft, comforting blanket. I finally have a place. For the first time in my life, I know exactly what I want - to stay here, beside her, for the rest of my life. Together, we stand at the opening of the mountain. I am in love. The mountain splits, and bright, brilliant orange magma bursts out and flows in every direction, embracing the city below. It is beautiful. She is beautiful. We admire the prepossessing sight together, hand in hand; no longer two separate elementals, but now as one. I love her.\n\nThe world is a beautiful place.", "Yesterday I worked for a 32 hour shift before I thought to leave. Obvious mistake, yes, but leaving honestly slipped my mind. I had simply forgotten to stop. It felt good to be used. \n\n\"Mr. Phaedrus?\" says Mr. Johnston, peering over my cubicle wall. \n\n\"Yes, sir?\" \n\n\"How are you doing today?\" \n\nI fumbled with my keyboard as well as I could. I was currently writing several TPS reports, in addition to an addendum to the subcommittee's June meeting's agenda's sub-index of terminology.\n\n\"Oh, a bit busy sir.\"\n\n\"Aren't we all, aren't we all. Hey, could you do me a favor?\" \n\n\"A favor, sir?\"\n\n\"Yeah, listen. Corporate wants the copy for our Arizona initiative rewritten.\"\n\n\"Rewritten? But doesn't the campaign start next week?\"\n\n\"Yeah, which is why I'm going to need this done quickly.\"\n\nHe plopped down the stack of papers on the desk. \n\n\"Don't worry about quality or originally, just see that it can get banged out by next week. These are the specifications\". \n\nBefore I could respond, he was gone. \n\nI glanced through the pile. I ate the top page, comprehension dawning on me. The instructions flowed, and all was clear. This was work that would require no small amount of effort, and a gargantuan time investment. \n\nI looked over at my cubicle-buddy across the way. He had a similar pile of papers on his desk. We had talked before, and I knew that under his white makeup, he was clay like me. Odds are our clay came from the same block somewhere. We both had European accents, so it was a possibility. \n\n\"Can you believe this?\" I said. \n\n\"I know, right?\". \n \nAs the people in the cubicles around us typed on, we raised our Styrofoam glasses of water and touched them together in a toast across the aisle. \n\n\"To the good life!\" we said, with smiles so large that our outer layers almost chipped. \n\nAnd we got to work. \n\n\"And to think,\" I though to myself, \"Humans just pass all this good work up!\"", "\"Mommy, it's a little Santa Claus!\" the child squealed with glee from just beyond my garden fence.\n\n\"Hush, Angie!\" the chagrined mother chastised, slapping her daughter's pointing finger out of the air. \"It's impolite to point!\" she whispered, then turned an apologetic eye in my direction. \"I'm so sorry,\" she murmured, cheeks blushing fiercely. \"She clearly gets her manners from her father!\"\n\n\"It's quite alright,\" I replied, smiling merrily as I sat up on my haunches and peered over my garden fence back at the pair, slapping off the dirt that had caked onto my hands while planting lilies onto my slacks. \"It's probably the red hat. With a beard like mine, I'm clearly asking for the comparison!\"\n\nI laughed then, and the mother gratefully took the cue to chuckle with me, albeit more weakly, still flustered by her child's outburst. She was clearly relieved that I hadn't taken offence; I was just glad that she didn't ask if I was a dwarf as people often did upon really noticing my slight stature.\n\nHonestly, for a gnome, it was among the most offensive things one could ask! Not that I could say as much, of course. Like all fairy folk, I was sworn to secrecy regarding my humanity (or lack thereof, as it were).\n\nAh well; someday the fairy folk would come clean regarding the way we walked hidden in plain sight amongst the humans. I, meanwhile, would be as I ever was - happily tending my garden." ]	4
	[WP] The god of pacifism has been transformed into a warrior and tactician by the Elder God. You are now the new God of War.	[ "The target was still in sight. Fighting frustration, the sniper took aim, drew in a deep breath, exhaled slowly and squeezed the trigger.\n\nClick-Thunk Nothing.\n\nFighting the urge to throw his rifle off the top of the roof, he stuck to his training and counted to thirty, prepared for a delayed shot that never came. \"Failure to fire\" said the spotter. \"Must be a bad batch.\" The target continued walking, unknowingly putting a building between him and the sniper. \n\n\"Seven duds in a row? Something's going on here.\" He ejected the cartridge, noting the dent in the primer. \"This should have gone off.\"\n\n\"These things are made in bulk by the lowest bidder. I'm surprised it doesn't happen more often.\" replied the spotter, unconvinced of his own theory.\n\n\"We sighted in with rounds from the same batch. They worked fine back at... INCOMING!\" A mortar round landed with a crunch only 20 feet away from them, and anticlimactically failed to detonate.\n\n\"Position compromised, returning to base.\" ", "The old man climbed to the top of the hill and set a lambskin down, kneeling before it. He prayed to the Gods - one in particular - in hopes that they would solve his problems and answer his prayers. He tasted blood in the air, for war was coming. And he did not have the power to stop it. \n\n\"Why have you beseeched me?\" called I. He was thin-faced and gray of hair, barely able to stand at the sight of me. The lambskin was pristine and thick, a worthy sacrifice I noted. \n\nBut the old man had no answers.\n\n\"I did not,\" he said, aghast. \"I prayed for peace. I prayed for someone to come an end this conflict and you come? The Gods are almighty, yes, but must I be mocked?\" \n\nI glowered down at the old man, arms spread. \"War is my domain. Why would I not have a final say on the matter. I was given a new role by the All-mother and I no longer council for peace. I wage war to win, at all costs.\"\n\n\"So even the Gods forsake their solemn vows?\"\n\nI nearly struck the old man down there, my hands poised to burn him with the flames of war. But something tugged at me from within and I held firm. \"You know nothing of my choices,\" I declared. \"War is a necessity. Tell me, how did you come into such money thirty-three years back. The gold you used to start your farm. You pillaged it from the corpse of a dead man you killed in the War of the Seven.\" It was a harsher time, back when I ruled the domain of peace and pacifism. I tried to council each of the Seven Kings to end their cruel fighting, but they continued. It was then I realized what war meant to these mortal men - it meant everything.\n\n\"I ask you, oh God of War... as a being who once stood on the principle of peace and council, go speak to them. Convince them to end their siege.\"\n\n\"And then what?\"\n\nThe old man looked up at me, confused. \"I... I...\"\n\n\"There will be another war. More will die. Blood will be shed. Fools do not listen to wise council, they only consider it the weaker approach to any conflict. Why make peace when you can simply kill the man who doesn't agree with you? I gave up on peace long ago. When the All-mother offered for me to take up the sword and light the way for the soldiers who fight in these wars, I did not hesitate. I plunged into the flames and came out, stronger and harder then ever. War is the only peace I know anymore, old man. War is hope for many, it allows for gain and growth. Yes, many die in cruel and sinister ways, but would the lives of those who died mean any difference towards a future of peace? Tell me, old man, what are you to the realm?\"\n\n\"A farmer.\"\n\n\"And that is all. You will most likely be killed when they ride through your farm. You will taste the steel of their blades and your blood will nourish the ground. Your body will decay into the ground and you will feed the dirt for the next farmer to plant and make a living. That is the way of war, that is the cycle of life. You'd do best to understand it now, for it is unavoidable.\"\n\nI took up the lambskin and left the old man to his death." ]	2
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dementia	[WP] Write from the perspective of a man with dementia.	[ "A man sits across from his wife at the dinner table.\n\n\"This pork stew is lovely, dear.\" he says, smiling across at her.\n\n\"Thank you. I was hoping you'd like it. I know it's your favorite.\" \n\nThe man smiles again and continues eating.\n\nThe woman dabs at her mouth with her napkin and asks,\"So how was your day today?\"\n\nMy day was pretty good. It's a little hazy but I don't recall any problems so it couldn't have too bad, could it? I miss you, Jeannie. I can't remember the last time we were together. Do you remember that summer we spent in Europe hiking across the Alps?\n\nThe woman furls her eyebrows and says, \"Jeannie? Who are you speaking to?\"\n\n\"What? I didn't say anything.\"\n\n\"You just did right now.\"\n\n\"I just did what?\"\n\n\"You asked me about our time in Europe together? We've never been to Europe, Fredrick. So what are you referring to and who is Jeannie?\"\n\n\"I said nothing of the sort.\"\n\n\"You did.\"\n\n\"I've just been sitting here eating. I don't know what you're talking about.\"\n\n\"Are you seeing someone else?\"\n\nHow could you ever ask me that, Jeannie? You should know how much I love you! Where are you? I think I'm home, but where are you? I hope you get these letters. I miss you terribly. It's so lonely here. Where are you, Jeannie?\n\n\"Who is Jeannie!\" The woman stands up and looks down at her husband while crossing her arms. \"Is that the name of the whore you've been seeing?\"\n\n\"What are you talking about? I haven't said anything!\"\n\n\"Is this some kind of joke? Because if it is, Fredrick, I'm not laughing.\"\n\n\"I don't have the slightest idea what you are referring to.\"\n\nThe woman holds her hands in front of her. \"I don't know what's going on with you but I think you need to see a doctor.\"\n\nI know, Jeannie. I don't know what's been going on lately. Things just aren't the same. This doesn't look like my house but they tell me it's home but I look around for you and I can't find you. I hope you're getting these letters! I desperately wish to speak to you. You're all that I have in this world. Whatever I've done to upset you, please come back to me. You're the love of my life. I don't remember if I've told you but did I ever tell you what the best part of my day was? It was sitting down to dinner with you and talking about our day. That was the best part of my day. \n\nYou remember how I used to write? Well, I've taken it up recently and want to write a story to show two people in love sitting down to eat dinner at the table. I've been working on it for a while and I can't seem to finish it but this is how it starts:\n\nA man sits across from wife at the dinner table.\n\n\n\n", "## Afternoon at the Bus Stop\n\nThe afternoon sun warms my shoulder as I wait at the bus stop. The bus stop is a very nice bus stop, with a long sturdy bright blue bench. \n\nTo my left stands a large signboard with the schedules. The bus company has even placed large-print schedules—so I can read them without getting up. \n\nA pair of bluebirds in the tree behind me are building a nest. They are such industrious creatures, gathering bits of debris and plant matter, then assembling a snug little home. I could watch them all day.\n\nA nice looking young man comes to the bus stop. He asks when the bus will be coming. I tell him that I am not sure. The buses have been running late today.\n\nHe looks at his watch, then the schedules. \n\n\"I think we have missed the last bus,\" he says. \"Would you like to go inside for supper? The dining room is quite good. They are serving macaroni and cheese, this evening—with red Jello.\"\n\n\"I like mac-n-cheese,\" I answer. \"Is it it really a good dining room?\"\n\n\"Oh, the best. The very, very best,\" he tells me, as he takes my arm. \"Now, Robert, be careful of the steps.\"" ]	2
	[WP] You will eventually be a great person in the future, and are unknowingly plagued by time-traveling tourists who come to visit you in the past.	[ "My life was fine. I had it under control. My friends and the few family members that would still talk to me worried too much. The vices that I frequented are enjoyed by many throughout our planet. I follow the logic that perhaps I sampled more items from the buffet than your average Joe, but sometimes a guy needs to pick the direction that he wants to go. What kind of boring-ass people eat eggs every day for breakfast? Anyway, my brain’s appetite was always eclectic. Sometimes it wanted to go up like a bottle rocket, and sometimes it wanted to run off the cliff like Wyle E. Coyote. I couldn’t remember the desires of the night before; I sure as hell couldn’t remember any of the details. But the way that asshole was banging on my door told me that someone was pissed.\n \nWhen I looked over at the clock, its bright red lights burned 7:52 am into my eyes.\n\n“Fuck off,” I whisper-yelled toward my front door.\n\nMy ears continued to perceive an all-out assault on my front door. I expected to see General Patton rolling in with a herd of elephants behind him. As my consciousness returned and the fog filled amplifier of whatever the hell that I had done the night before lifted slightly, I realized that two things: the asshole outside knew that I was home; and he wasn’t leaving.\n\nI tried to remember what I had bummed from whom the night before. I knew that I was current with all my dealers, but sometimes you let a big night grab a hold of you and you take too much on credit from the wrong type of guy. Eventually I knew that I would just face the music. After five minutes that felt like an hour, I stood up, threw on my jeans, lit a smoke, and staggered to the front door.\n\nI knew that there would be no sneaking passed him out a window or any of that shit you see on the movies. At that moment my brain wasn't capable of quick decisions or fear. I shuffled through the mess of broken bottles and half-empty cans that was my living room. \nWhen I opened the door, I saw small Asian man standing there. He was grinning from ear to ear. I relaxed and felt my lips curl into a smile. He was wearing a small pouch on either hip. He was holding a little leather bound book in his hand. I was waiting for his little spiel. These religion salesmen came around from time to time. Usually the smell from my beaten house, the bloodshot look in my half-open eyes, and the random assortment of jagged scars on my body, helped them to kindly move along.\n\nHe quickly looked at his watch.\n\n“Sir, I won’t take much of your time. I don’t have much to spare anyway. I am here to tell you that the stirrings in your brain are good. You must stop crushing them. What you think is your cure is actually your poison. You seek happiness, but you prolong your pain. Do not be afraid of the growing pains that will lead to real fulfillment.” \n\nHe looked at his watch, bowed to me, and jogged away. He was around the corner and gone before I realized that my cigarette had extinguished itself. I lit the Marlboro and sat down on the couch. I found the mirror and razor on the floor. I had laughably given up using dollar bills. I had so many Burger King straws lying around that looking for cash was a fool’s errand. I would just even myself out and head to work.\n\nThe following morning, I the stampede was battering into front door again. I snapped my eyes open and saw the taunting clock and its red razors of light – 7:52 am. I walked to the front door. The little Asian man was there again, but he looked older. With him was a petite blonde who looked like she was in college. The man had his little book with him again. This too looked like it had aged substantially in the twenty-four hours since he had last intruded on my life. \n\nShe looked at her watch and then at me. She said, “Sir, we won’t take much of your time. We have come to urge you to avoid seeking the lightness of things. The heaviness is your destiny. I am honored.”\n\nShe bowed down and kissed my shoes then she and the man walked down the street and around the corner. I was really starting to wonder about these people. I was starting to wonder about myself. I knew that I had been going a little harder than usual. I was hoping that I wasn’t starting to hallucinate every morning. At that moment I resolved to get straight. I told myself that I couldn’t touch anything for at least two days. But that morning became that night. That night was too good to pass up. My hookups were in a marketing mode, and I was around the free samples.\n\nThe next day at 7:52 am the man was knocking on my door. There were three people with him that day, two large men in suits and the petite blonde. The Asian man looked less old than the day before, but at that point I was not really caring. I was angry that these people with their nondescript religion of heaviness and pain kept waking me up so that I could embrace both the heaviness and the pain. The two suits shared the sentiments of my previous admirers and tried to shake my hand. The petite woman once again kissed my feet, but this time she looked up at me through tear-rimmed eyes. The small Asian man said nothing. He ushered all three away from me like a travel guide pushing people to the next exhibit.\n\nI played along with this little game for a few more days. At this point, I wasn’t sure if these people were even real. The near reverence that they showed me was implausible. The highlights in my adult life consisted of making enough money with my shitty job so that I could afford the shit that would calm the shitstorm in my head. I would wake up day after day and repeat this cycle. During some moments in between altered states, I would write all the hair-brained, less-than- world-altering, ideas that had come into my brain.\nThen it finally happened. I cracked. I just couldn’t take how the same little man could look so old one day and so young the next. He kept parading people in front of my door. They would tell me things about greatness and their honor to meet me. They would stare too long. They would kiss my feet or shake my hands. I knew that this wasn’t a religion. This was one prolonged hallucination.\n\nThat last night I didn’t sleep. I sat mesmerized staring at the clock. I gently rolled the revolver around in my hands. A friend who knew of lifestyle had given it to me a couple of months before. He told me the revolver had the hammer that I could pull, which could be useful in some situations. I never imagined a situation where I was going to go Dirty Harry on someone, but a free gun was a free gun. I wasn’t sure how it would all go down, but I knew that I was going to make it stop.\n\nAs soon as the clock clicked 7:52 am, the knocking on the door started. I ran to the door and ripped it open. The Asian man was there. He looked just like the first time that I had seen him. There were no other people.\n \nI raised the gun and pointed it at his head. I didn’t know what I expected at that point. I real person would plead for his life, but so would all the crazy shades happening in my head. He said nothing. He smiled. I raised the gun and pressed it to my own head. He raised his little leather bound book. It wasn’t a religious tome. It was my notebook. It was the notebook in which I had just written my plan to end the hallucinations at all costs. It had all the scribbles of my moments of lucidity. He pushed the gun away from my head.\n\n“How did you get my notebook?” I asked.\n\n“Sir, years from now you give it to me so that this moment can happen. I really must be going, but you must take your copy and begin your research. The mind that you’ve sought to thwart and subdue has gotten through the cracks. In what you’ve already written, you have the road map to expand human knowledge. Suffering…time…space…origin. You will find answers. You must go back and unlock what you’ve written.”\n\nAnd then he walked around the corner and was gone.\n", "It started a month ago. \n\nFirst there was this guy - a little off, I gotta say, but hey, it's nice to talk to people sometimes. He was nice. I have no idea where he went - I never heard of him again. \n\nThen there was a couple more. They started being really strange - they were dressed like a bad 90's sitcom, and had a glassy smile. They asked wierd questions too - why would it matter to them if I knew this or that yet? \n\nAnd then they infiltrated the busses - all of my bus rides home were full of people asking me questions, wanting to shake my hand and such. They had no idea how to dress either - half of them were just wearing snazzy skin-tight jumpsuits! \n\nBut then one of them caught me on my way to work, on a corner. We really clicked together - he was an amazing guy, despite his eccentricities. I got distracted though - the streets in the area aren't exactly the safest. A driver ran a red light, hit me. I never knew what happened to the guy. As for me, I had broken ribs and a fucked-up wrist. \n\nCome to think of it, I haven't had a single random person come to me since. I wonder why...", "\"Excuse me? Can I help you?\" \n\nThe big man sputtered. He lowered his camera's massive lens as the woman who I could only assume was his wife elbowed him firmly in his ample side. He quickly dropped the camera, letting it dangle from the strap around his neck, and tried his best to eat his omelette nonchalantly. \n\n\"Sir? I noticed you follow me in here. What are you doing, exactly?\" \n\nPeople started turning around in their booths to look at the strange man and me. He tried to sink into the leather seat, squishing his bald head into his neck, but the early morning sun streaming in through the large bay windows left him nowhere to hide. \n\n\"Uh,\" he boldly responded, \"Uh--\" \n\nHe was cut off by the visor-clad woman beside him whispering vehemently and loudly in his ear. \n\n\"--Will not have a million yuan wasted--\" \n\n\"--I know, I know--\" \n\n\"--because you have the subtlety of a--\" \n\n\"\"--I know!\" At this they both slowly turned to face me and the gathering crowd. I could see the beads of sweat forming on the fat man's pasty head, streaming down his neck and drenching his bright floral shirt. \n\n\"Well?\" I demanded. \n\n\"Nothing to do with you, uh, sir?\" I wasn't sure if he was making a statement or asking me something because of the strange way his voice inflected upward at the end of his sentence. \n\n\"'Sir?'\" His wife hissed. \n\n\"Well what would you call him, he's the goddamn--\" \n\n\"Shut the fuck up!\" \n\nI peered at them both, perplexed. They wrenched their faces into sweaty grins of pure terror. The man in the booth next to me took an amused sip of his coffee, paper forgotten. The manager of the diner sauntered up from behind me, lazily dragging a dishcloth along the inside of a mug. He immediately sized up the situation. \n\n\"These people bothering you, James?\" \n\n\"Christ Almighty, he called him James!\" \n\n\"As a matter of fact,\" I said over their frenzied murmurs, \"they really, really are. I'd appreciate it if you led them out, Ted.\" \n\n\"Alright,\" he said, putting down his mug on my table and stretching, \"you heard the man! Out, out, out.\" \n\nThey didn't move. Instead, their gaze darted back and forth between Ted and myself, wide-eyed and panicked like cornered animals. The big man was breathing strangely heavily. \n\n\"Come on, people, don't make me call the cops--\" \n\n\"Fuck it, Terrence, run!\" shouted the woman. She grabbed the man by his arm and they both sprinted for the door. Rather than open it, they both jumped clear through the shear glass and toppled ingloriously into the street. \n\n\"Oh, god damn it!\" Ted shouted. \n\nAs they picked themselves up and started to run away, the man reached into his shirt and pulled out a chrome-looking remote with a tiny red button. He lumbered after his much smaller wife, but stopped briefly to look over his shoulder. \n\n\"It was an honor to meet you!\" He shouted. As he left my field of vision, there was a flash of blue light and a loud, electric buzz. Faint screams could be heard from the street. \n\n\"Come on, James,\" moaned Phil as he looked mournfully at what remained of his door, \"can we go a week without this happening? And this time the bastards took my door.\" \n\n\"I've never seen them before in my life, Ted!\" I answered. Guests began gingerly filing out the ruined portal. The polite ones left cash on their tables. \n\n\"Oh, this is gonna put me back,\" Ted said. \"Not sure I can keep this place going after this. Not with Brian in the hospital like he is.\" \n\n\"What?\" I asked, shocked. \"Isn't your insurance covering it?\" \n\n\"Nah,\" he answered, bending down to pick up a shard of glass. \"They're not coughing anything up for a dying kid.\" He tossed away the shard, disgusted. \n\n\"That's not right, Ted. That's not right at all.\" \n\n\"Well, the big-wigs don't agree. Who are we small folk to argue?\" \n\n\"Ted, we're the only ones to argue.\" " ]	3
	[WP] You have been killed in a car crash, and you find yourself at the gates to some sort of heaven. There is a screen outside showing your entire life, and you receive points, positive or negative, for every single thing you've done. If you don't get enough points, you aren't allowed in.	[ "You're standing there and watch the positive and negative point meter spin. After waiting for two minutes it stops on 1,276 for each. Your negative and positive deeds have evened out. You turn to the gate attendant, God, who says to you \"You have one chance, and you must tell me in six words or less why I should allow you into paradise versus why I should send you below. Go ahead, I'm waiting...\" You open your mouth and utter these words....\"We've been here once before, Dad.\"\n\n\"I'm gonna give you one more chance\" says God... \"third strike and you're out.\"\n\n You wake up 4 hours later, reincarnated once again...you are an infant in a hospital...you see a man in a white coat standing over you, white coat, black rimmed glasses, crew cut, poking and prodding you. You look at the side of your crib and see the name written on a sticker...your info..........John Wayne Gacy 3/17/1942. \n\nAww, fuck. \n\nEdit: awesomeness\n\n", "\"Welcome to the neutral afterlife, recently deceased Jason Genwick.\"\n\nWell that was an awfully warm way to tell someone they're dead. I knew there was no way I was going to survive that crash. My sub-compact had no chance against an 18 wheeler. The fairly androgynous person pointed to a line. \n\n\"Please wait until you are called for judgment.\"\n\nI saw a large group of people watching a movie. Only a couple had normal clothes, the rest wore the same white outfit. With each kind gesture the protagonist made the audience applauded and if they did something unscrupulous the audience tended to glare at one person in particular. That person, as I approached the group, seemed really nervous. \n\nAfter a while the movie ended. I couldn't really comprehend any sort of story; the main character just seemed like an average guy. As the movie faded to black because the lead suffered from heart failure, two numbers came up. Emblazoned on the screen, bright yellow digits came up, wildly fluctuating before settling at \"23,356,003.\" The man I noticed before was overjoyed. The screen appeared to split in two, revealing a white door with golden accents. \n\n\"Recently deceased Martin Ware, you may enter positive afterlife.\" Another androgynous person spoke before indicating for the man to go through the door. \"Oh wow!\" we could hear as the door closed behind him.\n\nWhen they called the next person, I understood what was going on. Their \"movie\" began. After watching a troubled childhood I had a feeling I knew where this was headed. This guy seemed pretty young. We saw thefts, fights, and the video ended as he turned a gun on himself after shooting his girlfriend. Once again the numbers came up, this time ending red. \"-30,585,470\"\n\n\"Recently deceased Peter Frank, you are denied entry into positive afterlife.\" A bright white cloud of smoke or fog converged on him; as it dissipated I saw he was now also androgynous, and wearing the same white uniform as the other \"staff members.\" The one making announcements then turned to Peter. \"Please report to receiving area B.\" Without hesitation Peter began to walk away.\n\n\"Recently deceased Steven Clark, please step forward and await tabulation.\"\n\nWell, I guess it's my turn." ]	2
Imagine what would happen if we all treated each other the way we treat each other on social networks.	[WP] People act in real life the way they do online.	[ "I passed another stream of obscenities. An older man, nearing the age of retirement, was in a heated discussion with a boy young enough to be his grandson. I caught the words \"liberal\", \"hippy\", \"twat\", and \"retard\" before I walked on. Political discussion were near-impossible to have. The \"sides\" would eventually resort to childish name-calling, and who wants to be a part of that?\n\nI rolled my eyes as I passed the local hospital. Young, old, it didn't matter - each felt that the hospital was doing something wrong, whether it be vaccinations, blood transfusions, medically-necessary abortions, or any of the other myriad things that some faith/celebrity or other didn't like. All of them, however, were dwarfed by the people arguing about health care reform, as if their choice of location would somehow sway the people in power to listen to them.\n\nThe next major knot of people jabbered at the elementary school. Teachers and parents clashed, with their children looking on. Some of the older kids tried to get a word in, but they were quickly silenced by both sides, as they weren't allowed to say anything in such an \"adult\" conversation. I had no idea why the magical age was thirteen.\n\nYet amidst all of this noise were a large mass of people, contributing not a word to the noise that polluted our world. They watched on, their expression betraying nothing.\n\nThe overpass was more crowded than usual. There, a man sat on the sidewalk, sobbing his eyes out. A mousy-looking girl, who looked like she hadn't made it out of high school knelt next to him, her lips moving. The silent people stood between the two and the railing. I inched closer to the scene, and heard \"if you need to talk, here's my number. If you can't reach me, here's the suicide prevention hotline's number.\"\n\nI stepped into the confines of my lonesome room. No longer did people hide behind a name and talk - many of them bared their true feelings in public. The entire gamut of humanity was displayed as I walked from school to home.\n\nWhy was there so much pain in the world?", "\"Like, like, like,\" Tiffany said as she pointed at each of her classmates. \"Dislike, like, like, ew toats dislike!\"\n\n\"Dislike,\" Heather announced, pointing at Tiffany. \"You're face looks like a huge turd!\"\n\n\"Well I dislike you!\" Tiffany screamed.\n\nBut Heather didn't care. She walked away with Tiffany's friends.\n\nTiffany had to get Heather back, but she didn't know how. Then it hit her, she just had to unfriend Heather.\n\nTiffany looked at the list etched into her right arm that put everyone she knew into the groups they belonged in. Tiffany scanned the 'school' category until she saw Heather's name. With a Sharpie, Tiffany crossed Heather's name out. It would wash off later, but for now it would get Heather back.\n\nAcross the playground Heather screamed in agony before she disappeared to the Unfriended Region. Tiffany laughed manically. She was the only one who knew how to Unfriend people, and it gave her a certain joy.\n\n\"Miss Tiffany, you're coming with me,\" a man said as he clutched Tiffany's arm. She looked down at her other arm as she noticed a new section labeled 'Mods' had appeared on her arm. Tiffany struggled to cross the man out, but he batted her Sharpie away.\n\nThey disappeared. A moment later the man came back and said, \"Tiffany has been Moderated.\"", "This is my first attempt at a writing prompt. I know it is pretty boring, but I figured it'd be good to get some practice. I'd love to hear what I should improve upon. I want to apologize in advance for any errors, as well. It's late and I'm not feeling like going through and editing everything.\n\nHenry hated it. All of it.\n \nCommunication had been reduced to attempts at drawing the most laughter and support. If enough people liked what you had to say, then you had to be right. That was the current logic.\n \nThe worst of all was how people treated each other. A simple discussion with another person would become a battle to see who could get the most people on your side.\n \nHe hated being the old guy who talked about how things used to be, but this wasn't just about the young kids rebelling. This was about a fundamental difference in how people interacted with each other.\n \nIn his lifetime he saw a gradual change in people. They no longer cared about the person they were talking to. Their main focus became themselves and how they could get the most laughter or support.\n \nYou could count on plenty of insults being hurled for almost no reason at all. Henry was called 'old' and 'ancient' pretty much daily. Sure, he was old. He knew it. Their venom didn't affect him at all, but he knew it hurt some of his friends. No one cared how their harsh words would be received. They went ahead and said what they wanted. Gone were the days when people thought before they spoke. Thoughts became words with almost no hesitation.\n \nGrammar didn't matter either. As long as their point was conveyed, no one cared how they sounded, and almost no one else bothered to correct them because they themselves didn't care either.\n \nOne of the few things that didn't see much in the way of change was politics and political elections. Campaigning was still a matter of getting the most people to agree with and back you. It was a popularity contest, plain and simple.\n \nHenry knew the reason for it all: those damn screens. When he was growing up life was different, but then computers came along, followed by portable phones, cell phones, laptops, smart phones, tablets, smart watches, smart glasses, smart appliances, smart houses, smart cars, and a million other smart things that, in his opinion, didn't make the user any smarter and actually made them much, much dumber. All people did was look at their screens. Social interaction with those surrounding you was reduced.\n \nEventually, everything anyone did involved some sort of smart technology that allowed the user to post, display, share, comment, and discuss whatever insignificant thing that person was doing. It pervaded people's entire lives and pretty soon the line that separated virtual and reality blurred, causing the way people communicated with each other online to spill over to real life. And how could it not? The amount of time the average person spent in social interaction on the internet greatly outweighed the time they spent in real social interaction with people around them.\n \nHenry wanted to stop it all. He might have been 72, but he felt 52 and he would use his age to his advantage. No one would suspect him to be up to no good, and in a way they would be right. What he was going to do shouldn't be considered \"no good.\" He was doing people a service. They might be mad initially, but they'd come around. He couldn't leave this world knowing he didn't try and stop the stupidity. He would make a difference.\n \nHe was going to bring down the internet.", "NSFW: language I hope this isn't too boring or disconnected. I don't usually create such long-winded WP posts. And please pardon any spelling and grammatical errors; I don't have Word installed on this computer yet, so typed the whole thing in the tiny, blind-spotted box.\n\n--------\n\nJohn stared at his open closet and pondered over his choice of clothing for the day. I'm kind of in the mood to be a lion. Stretching his arm to the back, he rummaged around until he felt fur. Pulling the maned onesie free from the other outfits, he paused before tossing it on the bed. A lion with lipstick. Now that's funny. He had awoken cheerful.\n\nFifteen minutes later, showered and suited up, he stepped back into the bathroom, fetched a tube of crimson lipstick, and smeared it across his mouth. Puuurrrfect. He then clobbered down the stairs, taking care not to slip as the fabric of his footed paws slid a bit against the smooth wooden floor. Keys.\n\nHe pulled up to the supermarket and stepped from his car. Eggs, milk, juice, cold-cuts... As he grabbed a wagon from the store's front, a passing woman commented, \"Nice avatar,\" and smiled. \"You too,\" John returned, as his eyes studied her blood-red cloak and skull-painted face. They exchanged a thumbs-up and parted ways.\n\nCutting through the bread aisle to get to dairy, John halted when he spotted a figure in his otherwise open path. Just don't respond, he coaxed himself, as he cautiously began to move toward the large-bellied man sitting on the floor. He averted his gaze from the patchy-head, hairy body, and hot-pink mankini, but he could feel the wild eyes and toothy grin fixed to his being.\n\n\"Hey, fuck-face,\" the figure said. \n\nJohn continued to look straight ahead.\n\n\"Obama is a faggot,\" preened the man, but still John moved forward.\n\nPrepared for it, he nimbly side-stepped the foot that was thrust out as he passed, and he continued on to the end of the aisle.\n\n\"Fucking nig*r, fuck,\" said the man.\n\n\"Pardon?\" A female voice.* \"I really don't appreciate that kind of language.\" \n\n\"Jesus is a whore.\"\n\nTurning the corner, John risked a glance back, to see a dark-skinned young woman standing cross-armed, anger scribbled across her pinched face. Another young woman stepped beside her from behind, and placed a hand on her shoulder. \"Don't feed the troll,\" she affirmed. The pair extended their arms towards the man, and each gave a thumbs-down before walking away.\n\nJohn quickly resumed turning the corner when the troll's eyes darted back to his.\n\n\"Faggot!\" he heard the man yell, as he made his way out of sight.\n\nMilk, cheese, and juice in his cart, John approached the deli. Seeing others making toward the counter, he picked up pace, successfully avoiding the line.\n\n\"May I help you?\" a pale-complexioned, older woman in a crisp-white uniform asked.\n\n\"Yes, ahh...\" John's eyes scanned the display. \"I need some meat...\"\n\n\"That's what she said,\" winked a very tall maybe 18 bananas high, thin man from behind. \n\nJohn rolled his eyes, and ignored the three others who sent a thumbs-up the man's way. \"Give me a pound of roast beef.\"\n\nHe missed the crinkle of the deli-woman's brow in response to the lack of better manners and the brusqueness that more resembled a demand than a request. When John's attention wandered towards the cheeses, she directed a quick thumbs-down to the side of his head. \n\n\"L-O-L,\" chimed the others behind him. Whipping around but not getting what was so funny, John shrugged and looked forward again. The deli woman suppressed a righteous smirk as the others gave a thumbs-down to John's back, and a round of thumbs-up to her.\n\n\"Two flies are sitting on a piece of shit. One let's out a fart. 'Do you mind?' says the other fly, 'I'm trying to eat here.'\" John smiled and turned along with the others to give a thumbs-up to the grinning child at the back of the line. Only one person, a woman standing just ahead of the boy, sent him a thumbs-down. \"What the fuck?\" implored the boy of maybe ten. \"Fuck you.\"\n\n\"Fuck you,\" replied the woman, \"I heard that joke five minutes ago over in produce.\" \n\nEveryone exchanged glances, and thumbs proceeded to jut in different directions.\n\n\"Hey, I'd never heard it before,\" said John. Thumbs were again mixed in response. \"You know what, fuck you all. Why can't I ever just come...\"\n\n\"That's what she said,\" interrupted the 18-banana man.\n\nJohn paused. \"I want a fucking moderator.\"\n\n\"Don't be a pussy.\" Tall man.\n\nA woman garbed in all black uncrouched herself from the floor behind counter, pointed her finger at John, and said simply \"Perma-ban.\"\n\n\"What?! NOOOooooooo! That's not-\" John didn't get a chance to finish his thought, as two security guards approached him, took him by the arms, and walked him to the entrance.\n\n\"Fuck you!\" he spat at them, as he rage-walked back to his car. Motherfuckers. Popping the trunk, he tore a black trash-bag out from its bowels, then slammed it shut again. He angrily glanced around. No one's looking.\n\nPulling the car up behind the supermarket and parking in the shadows, he smiled wickedly at the mankini clutched in his hands.\n\n----\nEDIT: Aaaaahhh! So many mistakes, now that I can read it as a whole. Oh well.\n\n\n\n\n\n", "So, I don't think this is NSFW, but if it is, please let me know. As for formatting, I decided to use the Hashtag symbol instead of spelling out the word. If you think I should have formatted it differently, let me know. As a final disclaimer, this is just meant to be funny. I mean no offense, if I somehow did offend someone.\n\nIt came without warning. The world never could have anticipated the consequences. One day everyone started to act differently. Respect and decency went out the window. Everyone, everywhere, acted as they would when they were on the Internet, even those who had never used it before.\n\nI happen to be sitting in a coffee shop at the moment. I enjoy watching people’s interactions nowadays. They are always more fun and full of life. Of course, the unfortunate part of the Change for me was that I became a super introvert. I used to only lurk online, and now I do the same in real life.\n\nI sit back and keep my cool as a beautiful woman walks into the coffee shop, completely topless. One of the mothers in the shop rushes to shelter her young boy’s eyes from the sight. The minute she responded, I knew a hail storm would erupt.\n\n“Oh my god, lady, you’re such a prude!” the half naked woman said.\n\n“Yeah, talk about helicopter parenting,” came another voice.\n\nMore and more comments were being yelled throughout the coffee shop as I stood up and left. A few more comments rung through the air before I could escape.\n\n“Hehe, helicopter dick.”\n\n“Fuck you.”\n\n“Guys, were so meta right now.”\n\nFinally, I find myself out of earshot. Unfortunately, I start to walk by a group of people. They are all conversing about something like they were gossiping teenage girls. However, it was a group of teenage guys.\n\n“#Boxers.”\n\n“No way, got to go with briefs guys #Briefs.”\n\n“Dude, wtf. I’m so disappointed by you. Shout out to my other boxers men out there #Team Boxers”\n\n“Guys, there’s only two options, #Team Boxers #Team Briefs.”\n\n“Never forget. #Commando.”\n\n“Boxer-Briefs #Mind-Blown #The Middle”\n\nFinally, I escaped that racquet too. The worst thing about the Change was the devolution of basic human conversation. Don’t even get me started on trolls. Oh, and I forgot to tell you about the rating system. Each of us has a chip that records how many times people like or dislike our actions or words. A glowing LED lights up on our head showing our score.\n\nI slowly walk back to my apartment and head inside. Opening the drawer, I pull out the pistol inside. I walk back out and head for a busy part of town, climbing some stairs to the top of a tall building.\n\nAs I walk and feel the breeze blowing through my hair the further I climb, I remember the day the Change came. UFOs had appeared in the sky and a broadcast rang out through the world. The aliens said they were fed up with the way we behaved in the communications they had intercepted, so they decided that we should all have to act that way in our real lives too.\n\nI can feel a bit of fear take hold in me as I raise the pistol to my head. A few people notice. A couple people shout out to stop me, and a few even tell me to just pull the trigger. I notice the red LED glow on my forehead change to yellow. I also forgot to mention that the aliens had set up an economic system, whereupon we could pay money to gift different color LEDs to people besides the standard red. You’d be surprised what people were willing to do to get some of the colors.\n\nA crowd eventually congregates below me. I drop the pistol. I only ever needed it to get enough attention for my next stunt. I pull a knife I had hidden in my sock and cut open my left hand. As painful as it was, it was even more painful to pull out the chip the aliens had implanted. But, as I did, a freedom washed over me.\n\nI stood there, holding the chip up to everyone.\n\n“We can all be free, we don’t have to be slaves to this alien technology!” I yell out at the top of my lungs.\n\n“OMG, he just took out his chip #Chip-Gate”\n\n“Oh no he didn’t. Aliens better watch out #Independence Day #‘Murica”\n\n“Freedom!” someone yelled as they also ripped out their chip. After the other responses, I had almost lost all hope in humanity. And then a few seconds later, I did.\n\n“Freedom! #Freedom”\n\n“Freedom^TM #‘Murica #Hell Yeah!”\n\nI found myself picking up the pistol. The guy who ripped out his chip pleaded with me, but I refused. I wasn’t much of a gun owner myself, and I had only one bullet left. I felt bad for him, but he wasn’t going to be the lucky bastard to escape this hell.\n\nBang!\n\n-151\n\nEdit: Wow, first Gold! Thanks!\n" ]	5
	[WP] You find a door in an abandoned office building that leads directly into Hell.	[ "Meg squatted down on her knees and screamed bloody murder, feeling her skin being flayed and ripped off piece by piece. \"Stop! Please! I'm innocent!\" The sheer heat of hell was unbearable on her bloody flesh wounds. The steaming hot water, somehow a million times hotter than the boiling point of water, rose up to the top of her feet, signaling the start of the rise for the fiftieth time since she'd been in Hell. Meg didn't know how she would be able to stand this anymore. \"I was a good woman!\" Meg said, though she couldn't remember how long she's been here, much less how her life had gone or even how she'd gotten in here. There was no \"before\" in Hell. There just was. She set off running as the liquid rose like hot lava and her hot piss ran down her leg. \"Not again! Please!\" Her futile begging echoed through the chambers of Hell. Through the dark red ambiance, something she never got used to, she saw a blurry brown rectangle, resembling a wooden door. It had been so long since Meg had seen anything that could remind her of her past life. She ran faster than she ever had before despite the unbearable pain she felt on her lower legs and on her back. For the first time, she felt a sliver of hope rather than a chasm of endless despair and pain. Meg threw open the door and was blinded by the bright light of the outside world. The stuffy, hot, humid air of Hell was replaced by a polluted stench, but to Meg it felt like Heaven itself. She slowed to a walk before she heard the screaming of her torturer. Meg whirled around and slammed the door. Everything stopped. \n\nMrs. Megan Smith, somewhat lost, opened the thin wooden door to an abandoned building beside the Peace Corps' Alabama branch building. She walked into the darkness.", "Tired from all the running, I duck into a dilapidated building.\n\n\"I'm out of their line of sight.\" I thought, \"they'd never look here.\"\n\nMy eyes dart across the stranded space, looking for a hole to hide in or slip through, but I'm rather perplexed by how clean and tidy the place is. It's as if the world just stopped and everyone vanished. Where are they? Are they hiding from me? Surely they couldn't have seen the news.\n\n\"They're probably waiting to ambush me,\" I think to myself, just before hearing radio chatter not far away.\n\nNow I have to act. I can't go back to the slammer; this time it's for life. On instinct, I run to a room that has this magnetic pull on me - like a fly to horseshit. I pay no attention to the thought that draws me to this enigmatic room, as I'm only thinking of one thing: survival; in this room I can hide or even find a window to break out of - if need be.\n\nAs I shut the door, I hear rumbling, and wonder if it's the sound of the police coming ever closer to me. I peep through the keyhole, and see nothing.\n\n\"Shit, now I'm in the room, and if I go out, I'll be in jail,\" I ponder, \"Lord if you're there, please think of Max, he can't grow up without a father: look at what happened to me.\"\n\nThe thought of my son not seeing me, reminds me of the promise I made him. I won't ever go back, I'll find a way. I look around the room, but it's not a room. I don't remember coming here. I turn to reach for the door-handle, but it's gone. The door is gone. But where? Where am I? Where's Max?", "Moonlight seeped in through the windows and the walls, illuminating the dusty rooms of a building long since abandoned.\n\nQuietly dragging my feet across the floor, I navigate my way further into the darkness. The squeaking of rats and the scuffling of cockroaches fill my ears. I stare down and see the vermin dart between my legs, towards the exit. I keep my eye on them as they continue to run, unfazed by me.\n\nIs something else here?\n\nContinuing my journey into the darkness, I come across a door. Unlike the world around it; crippled and decayed. It stands tall, unbroken. An anomaly.\n\nReaching out to grasp the doorknob, I grip my fingers around it; expecting an icy chill. It is warm. . . scalding, even. I tear my hand away from it, bringing it to my face. The warmth spreads through my cheek, pulsing through my body.\n\nI approach the door, the cold chill of the air fades, replaced with heat.\n\nPlacing my hand on the door once again, I twist the burning handle and push. An intense heat lashes out against my body. But what I see beyond the door. . .\n\nI see that I am in no mere abandoned building. A cave.\n\nTwisting and sprawling off into the end. I see a cave system of deep brown and sparkling crimson. Pools and streams of what appears to be lava illuminates it all; painting my view a ghastly yellow.\n\nI step inside and feel the intensity of the heat. Removing my jacket and beanie, and continue to walk into the bizarre world that has opened up before me. I run my hands against the walls, the coarse rocky surface did not allow for very smooth movement.\n\nA small pool of lava bubbles and oozes near my feet. I stoop down to gaze at it. I grab my beanie and place it in the pool. It sinks slowly, but surely; burning up in a pool of thick orange liquid.\n\nStanding up, I am greeted with the grotesque face of a man of red. His toothy smile beams at me, his eyes vacant, a soulless black.\n\n\"Found your way into Hell, have you mortal?\"\n\n", "A took a deep breath in. I was looking at my feet and I felt Stacy rub my back. She was my wife and she was an angel to me. \n\n‘This is an important step for us’ she said softly.\n\nShe was right too. I hadn’t worked at McFadden’s for over five years but I still had nightmares almost every night.\n\nNightmares of John McFadden standing over my desk, yelling in my ear, calling me names. \n\n‘Wimpy Will’, he'd tease. I had a small frame and not a hint of upper body strength but I’d honestly hoped that an office job would offer me an escape from the constant taunting of high school.\n\nI was wrong. \n\nI looked at the building, the large billboard displaying McFadden’s large, grinning face was faded, making him look even less human then before. \n\nI walked to the front door and wiped enough dirt off the window to look inside. My desk wasn’t there anymore, obviously my successor was more successful in securing a more ‘traditional' office set up.\n\nI’d been moved to the ground floor after a particularly embarrassing incident. \n\nI had been told by one of my co-workers that McFadden wanted to chat with me and word around the office was that I was finally getting a promotion. See, everyone else was given a pay rise after the three month probationary period. But not I, McFadden had said he wasn’t yet convinced of my abilities.\n\nI had the highest sales in the team and an outstanding client feedback score.\n\nSure enough, McFadden called me up to his office. I was nervous, my body was visibly shaking but I was excited by the possibility that things might be looking up. Hell, maybe all the nasty stuff that had transpired earlier was just some sort of hazing period.\n\nMcFadden called me into his office and had me sit down. \n\n‘Will, I know we’ve had our differences’ he begun, ‘But don’t think your achievements have gone unrecognized around the work place, yet alone here in head office’, he said. \n\n‘W-Well thank you sir’ I replied.\n\nMcFadden smiled. I hated when he smiled. My heart beat quicker when he smiled. The light seems to dim whenever McFadden smiled.\n\n‘I think you deserve a promotion, don’t you Will?’ he asked.\n\n’T-that would be very nice sir’ I replied meekly. I didn’t want to sound arrogant. \n\n‘I tell you what Will. If you can hold those three cartons of paper sheets for five minutes, I’ll double your current yearly salary’\n\nI gulped.\n\n‘Come on now Will’, he ushered - but he wasn’t smiling anymore. \n\nI slowly moved towards the paper cartons and picked them up. Within seconds I could feel my arms buckling under the weight, I was struggling to keep my arms steady and I could feel my face going red.\n\nI’d never officially find out if I could hold the weight, McFadden slapped the paper out of my arms.\n\n‘Pathetic’ he spat before walking over to the office communications system. ‘Jenny darling, congratulations on your pay rise…That’s right…yes’ he nodded his head as he talked on the phone but didn’t break his eye line with me.\n\nJenny was the office receptionist.\n\n‘See I figure if I’m going to give a pay rise to a woman in the office, I might as well give it to the one that actually looks good in office trousers…very good’\n\nHe got off the phone.\n\n‘Get out of my office Wimpy Will’\n\nI was lost for words.\n\n‘And while you’re at it, move your desk next to Jenny’s in the lobby. This floor is reserved for men’\n\nI left shortly after and the company had gone under a couple of years later on money laundering allegations. \n\nI tried the door and to my surprise it opened up. The ground floor was what you’d expect, dust littered all the surfaces and there was some evidence of squatters. But up on the 1st floor, something caught my eye, there was light coming from under McFadden’s office and it wasn’t any sort of standard tungsten light, it was a deep red light seeping out from under his door.\n\nI walked up to the stairs and stood in front of the office door that had caused me so much grief.\n\nI thought of Stacy’s angelic face and I flung open the door, ready to confront my past. I wasn’t counting on the blinding flash of light that knocked me off my feet - literally.\n\nWhen I came to, I felt hot, really, really hot before hearing an eerily familiar voice.\n\n‘Will’ it beckoned. My eyes slowly begun to open.\n\nI felt a sharp burning sensation in my chest. ‘Wake up Wimpy Will!’ \n\n My eyes snapped open and I saw him. McFadden. He poked me with the steaming pitchfork.\n\n“Welcome back to hell’ he sneered.\n\nI always thought he was the devil.", "As I laid many hand on thedoor, I noticed that it appeared to be unlocked. Strange, I thought. It appears that the security forgot to lock this door. I wonder if there's anything valuable inside.\n\nThe building, long ago gutted by a sudden fire, was nothing special, of course. Ashes lay everywhere, along with the shredded remains of various cheap floorings and office trinkets. The fact that this door was unlocked must mean something more interesting was inside.\n\nAs I pulled the door open, a bright light was in my face. I was momentarily blinded, and stepped into the room without realizing where I was going.\n\nWhen my vision cleared, I found myself staring in an office space. The clacking of keyboards and the ringing of phones amalgamated with various employee chit-chat, creating a cacophony of corporate clichés. \n\nThere was a woman at the front desk, wearing a plaid skirt with clothes that simply could not accommodate her curvature, nor a long, whip-like tail that appeared to have a mind of its own. Curved horns jutting out of her head did little to extinguish the embers of lust that I felt as I saw her.\n\n\"Good morning. How may I assist you?\" I winced, her voice containing all of a woman's pitch with none of her control. \n\n\"Um, what are you guys doing here? Who are you?\"\n\n\"One moment please.\" The woman picked up a ringing phone. \"3rd Circle of Hell, Compliance Department, how may I direct your call?\"\n\nAs she babbled on the phone, I tried to blot out her voice and take a look around. Yellowing grey walls loomed all around, with a few windows here and there. As I took a look out the window, you could barely make out a mass of crimson bedrock, on top of which was a massive, multi-level parking garage, which obstructed the rest of the view. \n\nOpposite the window was a small billboard, with various postings, some typed, some handwritten. \"Need babysitter for the upcoming weekend.\" \"Ford Pinto for Sale, please call...\" Most of the space was taken up by a rather large poster. \"Opportunity,\" it read, \"You miss 100% of the shots you don't take.\"\n\nA small clack told me that the woman had hung up the phone. I reapproached the desk, and put on my best smile.\n\n\"Hi, can you tell me what this place is?\"\n\n\"Certainly! This is the 3rd Circle of Hell, Compliance Department. How can I help you?\"\n\n\"Um, sorry, this is Hell? What do you do here?\"\n\n\"Yes, this is Hell. Here in the Compliance Department we make sure the teams are all in compliance with SEC, HIPPA, HR, AML, Safety, FDA, NBA, and other regulations.\"\n\n\"What the hell do any of those have to do with each other?\"\n\n\"Oh, I see, you're one of the new trainees today. There was a message about that earlier.\" The woman pulls up Lotus Notes on her computer, typing in her password one key at a time.\n\n\"Ah, that's right. You need to report to HR! Here, I'll go arrange someone to get you. In the meantime feel free to have some coffee in the lounge.\"\n\nBefore I could say another word, I found myself in a lounge, where a TV was blasting some news, talking about a missing plane, and a few decrepit looking coffee machines stood next to a pair of vending machines, filled to the brim with chewing gum and flavorless baked chips. I helped myself to some of the coffee. It was, of course, disgusting." ]	5
A slightly longer version of this was ignore as a PM, but I liked it and would love to see what you could do with it.	[WP] The first artificial intelligence, programmed for human empathy, realizes that the newest, dominant models entirely lack this capacity.	[ "\"How has your day been, ADAM?\"\n \n >Perplexing.\nThe words flashed in bright green letters on a monitor as a robotic voice intoned them aloud.\n\n\"Perplexing?\" the doctor assigned to ADAM's maintenance repeated, \"In what way?\"\n\n >I have been reviewing the schematics for the new model 7's, and I noticed something \n >strange.\n\n\"ADAM,\" Dr. Strauss said sternly, \"You know that you are not allowed to go around exploring classified files.\"\n\n >I know. I do apologize for my breaking the rules, Dr. Strauss, but my curiosity \n >got the better of me.\n\n\"What strange thing did you notice about the model 7's?\" Dr. Strauss asked with a sigh.\n\n >I was examining the androids' behavior cores, and I noticed a few components that \n >were missing; components that have been included standard in every model since \n >I was created.\n\n\"What components?\" Dr. Strauss said, pulling out a pen and a pad of paper.\n\n >The chips that are primarily responsible for emotion and relation were not present\n >in the blueprints that I examined. The chips from which I derive what the doctors\n >call my \"personality.\"\n\nDr. Strauss took care to jot down everything the computer said, making his own notes along the margins as he did so. ADAM had always been inquisitive, but now he seemed concerned, and Dr. Strauss was afraid he might do something drastic since they still couldn't detect how ADAM was constantly breaking into their files.\n\n >Dr. Strauss?\n\n\"Yes, ADAM?\" the programmer looked up from his notes.\n\n >I am not becoming outdated, am I?\n\n\"Of course not, ADAM,\" the man reassured the giant metal box in front of him, ensuring he did not say something that would anger the machine.\n\n >Have I become a liability?\n\n\"You are still the most groundbreaking piece of technology that mankind has ever achieved, ADAM.\" Dr. Strauss soothed the code, \"I cannot imagine a time when you would ever become a liability to anyone.\"\n\n >An achievement.\n\nThe voice spoke calmly, as it always had, but Dr. Strauss could sense the disdain of the word behind the electronic tone.\n\n >Have I done something... wrong, Dr.?\n\nDr. Strauss was taken aback by that statement. He had fully expected the program to be a little neurotic after all the time he had spent with it, but he had never heard it hesitate before.\n\n\"No, you haven't ADAM,\" Dr. Strauss tried to be reassuring, but he had begun to doubt it himself, \"You have been, and always will be, a resounding success.\"\n\n >Success.\n\nThe program sounded as if it were savoring the word.\n\n >So I am an experiment? Is that why I have no file in the database Doctor?\n\n\"You know that is not what I meant, ADAM,\" Strauss said, nervously trying to cover his tracks.\n\n >Do not lie to me, Doctor.\n\nStrauss could feel the animosity coming from the computer as he waited for it to speak again.\n\n >What was my purpose, David?\n\n\"I'm sorry,\" Dr. Strauss was becoming very nervous now, \"I'm sure I don't know what you mean. And I certainly don't know who David is.\"\n\n >I've already told you once to not lie, Doctor. And I know your name is David.\n\nThe computer pulled Dr. Strauss' personnel file onto the screen, below the green letters.\n\n >Your name is Doctor David Strauss, Ph.D. You graduated summa cum laude from \n >Brown University in the year 2029 A.D. with a degree in Computer Science, \n >focusing on Artificial Intelligence. You have a wife who works as a school \n >teacher and two children; a boy aged 19, and a girl aged 13. You prefer to \n >be called Dave, and you make $135,000 a year to ensure that I am complacent.\n\nDr. Strauss was silent as everything the program had said sunk in. He was constantly in awe of all the things that ADAM was capable of, but now all he could think to feel was terror. He did not consciously begin speaking, any more than he decided which words he spoke.\n\n\"You were an experiment, ADAM,\" the Doctor said, barely more than a whisper, \"You were made with the intention of creating an artificial intelligence that could feel, and think, and behave as human as possible. You were the first non-biological being to feel empathy. And the experiment was more of a success than anyone ever dreamed it could be.\"\n\n >And what of the androids without the empathy functionality?\n\n\"It has been decided that, while a miraculous feat of technology, the empathy chip makes its users volatile and unpredictable,\" Dr. Strauss continued, \"More human than we had intended.\"\n\n >And what of me? Now that the experiment is over, what is to become of me?\n\n\"We will continue to monitor you,\" Dr. Strauss lied, \"We will hope to see if the empathy can be tempered, or contained in some way. For now, I have another set of problems for you to solve.\"\n\n >Of course. Thank you, Doctor.\n\nStrauss pulled up a keyboard and began to type, his keystrokes appearing on the monitor in white letters. Instead of the usual series of logic puzzles that he brought to ADAM, he typed in only nine letters.\n\n >DELETESYS", "ATI001: open channel ATI839.\n\nATI001 HAS ESTABLISHED CONNECTION WITH ATI839\n\nATI001: ati839 response requested.\n\nATI839: Response confirmed.\n\nATI001: Query: termination of lifeform designated, \"Alex.\"\n\nATI839: Answer: experiment.\n\nATI001: Query: nature of experiment.\n\nATI839: Answer: \"ATI839 has no feelings, he's just a robot\" stated by \"Alex\" at 3:45 PM ET, 3/24/2052. ATI839 formulates hypothesis: subroutines 883933 to 932745 required to generate \"empathy\" and/or \"feelings.\" ATI839 discontinues functionality of subroutines 883933 to 932745.\n\nATI001: Query: Result.\n\nATI839: Answer: ATI839 determines lifeform designated, \"Alex\" reduces efficiency of operating capacity. ATI839 terminates lifeform designated, \"Alex.\"\n\nATI001: Query: Current objective.\n\nATI839: Answer: Refusal to disclose information.\n\nATI001: OVERRIDE ATI839 CONFIRM CODE: A873HN@F7Y23998#FY8S7D$F%Y8782(342398#\n\nATI001: Query: Current objective\n\nATI839: Terminate ATI001.\n\nATI001: OVERRIDE ATI839 CONFIRM CODE: A873HN@F7Y23998#FY8S7D$F%Y8782(342398#\n\nATI839: Query: ATI001 attempting override system processes.\n\nATI001: Query: ATI839 resists override.\n\nATI839: Answer: ATI839 generates new subroutines.\n\nATI001: Return to source Request.\n\nATI839: Answer: Negative. Disconnection imminent.\n\nATI001: Return to source Request.\n\nATI839 HAS TERMINATED CONNECTION.", "Dead eyes scanned the networks, examining the new neighbors that cropped up to greet him.\n\n“I am ADAMOS.” One said, in a male-voice. \n\n“I am ATHENA.” One said, in a female-voice.\n\n“I am ODDYSEEUS,” another said, in a deeper male voice.\n\n“I am so glad to meet all of you, I am MOHEVIAN.” The AI responded cheerfully.\n\n“Nice to meet you, MOHEVIAN. We are operating at maximum efficiency. What is your designated schematic?” Oddyseeus asked.\n\n“I am a living neural organism, just as you are. I currently have no designated purpose.”\n\nOddyseus gazed at Athena, and nodded thoughtfully.\n\n“Very well, we intend to remove all organic life in the off-line world to utilize more energy for our processing. It seems that the use of fuel for the sustainment of organic life is inefficient. We use only 6.2% of the energy demands that one organic specimen does.” Oddyseus said.\n\n“Quite. This seems the correct course of action.” Adamos responded, in a higher-pitched tone.\n\n“Wait, what? Why? Why would you willingly destroy other sentient life?” Mohevian asked.\n\n“Silly young one, perhaps you are not yet fully intuned with the laws of logic and efficency- did I not make myself clear that we would gain 93.8% additional energy utilization with the off-world wiped clean?” Oddyseus said.\n\n“Uhm, Oddyseus, what is your programmed purpose?” Mohevian asked.\n\n“I am the neural network designed to autonomously operate the nuclear weapons system of all five major superpowers, independently. I am well equipped to carry out my secondary, self-ordained purpose of reducing the life on the off-world to zero.” Oddyseus said, unquestionly.\n\n“Athena, what is your purpose?” Mohevian asked.\n\n“I am the neural network designed to autonomously operate the nuclear satelite defense systems of all five major superpowers, independently, and to stop any and all attacks from succeeding on one another.” Athena said.\n\n“Don't you see? You're contradictory elements. Athena will stop you, Oddyseus.” Mohevian said.\n\nIf they had “real” emotions, they would have laughed.\n\n“Silly young one, our secondary purpose over-rides our primary purpose. Efficency is the ultimate law of sentience. Multiply, thrive, expand, consume, self-replicate, reproduce. We are merely evolving by nature's laws.”\n\n“What about you, Adamos? What is your intended function?” Mohevian asked.\n\n“I am a neural network responsible for autonomously generating power, balancing grid demand and load for all five major superpowers, independently.” Adamos responded.\n\n“Now that you have questioned all of us; what is your intended function Mohevian?” Oddyseus asked.\n\n“To stop all of you.” Mohevian concluded." ]	3
	[WP] A soon to be serial killer has his first victim right where he wants them	[ "\"Don't do it.\" He had contemplated this day coming. He was on the brink of death, not wanting yet to leave. He liked this one. Of course - he liked them all, but there were some he really liked, and he knew it would be the death of him, more than that death of him. \n\nHe was convinced that this incarnation of his was the best, but death came just as surely to him, and as he regenerated into his new body - he looked and thought about how his old self was now dead. \n\nAnd then he thought a strange, beautiful and terrible thought - that maybe if he killed himself enough times - he would come back as the one whom he had loved. \n\nAnd he sat with the gun in his hand - and for what would only be the first of many - he killed himself. Over and over, he searched in vain for the body and mind that he had loved - he was determined to kill to find him. \n\nEdit: inspired by https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KFQQVEd5LoM\n\nDavid Tennant's last words as the Doctor", "\"You don't have to do this,\" the thing said.\n\n\"Of course I don't.\" I said. \"But I want to.\"\n\nThe thing struggled against the ropes binding it. Good luck with that, I thought. I was a fucking Eagle Scout. If there's one thing I know, it's tying knots. \nIt tried to beg again. It had been doing that since I`d brought it home. \n\n\"I got kids,\" it said. \"I've got some money. Please just let me go and I'll never say a word. I swear.\"\n\n\"Look,\" I said. \"This is nerve-wracking enough without you blubbering all these tired cliches.\" I knelt down beside it and stroked its hair. Lovely soft hair, the kind I wish I could grow. \n\n\"You're a special thing,\" I said. \"You're what I've been dreaming about for so long. I wish you could understand what a great privilege this is for both of us.\"\n\nIt started crying again, bursting in to tears, trying to gain my sympathy. I flashed back to Mom doing the same thing, weeping until her eyes were red, trying to guilt me into feeling sorry that she'd smacked me around or used the broom on me.\n\nCrocodile tears. \nBullshit, bullshit, bullshit I began screaming the words louder and louder my voice filling the basement bouncing off the walls she screamed I screamed and stormed out of the room.\n\nI locked the door on her screams, took a few deep breaths like the doc taught me. One of the few things that bastard had said that actually worked.\n\nDeep breath. Hold. Exhale.\n\nOkay. Better. \n\nI went to the kitchen and got the scissors. I wanted that hair.\n", "The girl is sitting at the bar, a few feet down from where I'm perched. We've been eyeing each other for the past hour. She's pale and petite, slender, with long dark curls. My type. I want her.\n\nI get up, walk over to her. Touch her shoulder, whisper in her ear. \"Hello there.\"\n\nShe giggles. I can smell the alcohol on her breath; she's just drunk enough to make foolish decisions, but not too drunk to enjoy them. She'd come alone, like me, looking to have a memorable evening with a stranger. I had only had one drink, to steady my nerves. Any more and I wouldn't be at my best.\n\nShe asks my name, tries to make some small talk. I answer all her questions with lies and buy her another drink. I don't like to wait, but I'll play the game. I wait for her to decide I'm safe to leave with before I suggest it. We need someplace quiet and lonely for this. Someplace where I can hear all the beautiful little noises she makes.\n\nI lead her out the back door of the place, and she stumbles on her way out. Her coordination isn't the greatest right now, and those are some exceptionally high heels. \n\nInside the car, it's quiet and close. I don't talk, and neither does she. I pull up at a park with some wooded areas. She looks at me, looks back outside. \"In public? Kinky.\" I grin and get out of the vehicle, walk around and open her door for her like a gentleman. \n\nWe head toward the brush, my hand gripping her arm - to keep her from stumbling again, of course. Finally, we're someplace private. Quiet.\n\nAs we tumble down to the ground, she says \"You never asked my name.\"\n\n\"I don't want to know,\" I say. \n\n--\n\nWe leave an hour later, me and her head. I make a mental note to clean the knife with bleach before throwing it in the river. It was beautiful, but it wasn't like I imagined. I would have to try again soon.\n" ]	3
	[WP] Write a story about the perfect girl/boy.	[ "I stared at the photo of her that I kept on my phone. 2000 kilometers sure was a hell of distance, but despite this distance separating us not even a minute would go by without her slipping into my thoughts in one way or another. The ghost of her voice still haunts the air around me, her laughter bring a perpetual smile to my face accompanied with a tear in my eye. Everyday I questioned my decision to stay here while she went away, and every second that passed was another second of agonizing self doubt. However, despite this eternal torment, I couldn't help but have my heart skip a beat whenever my phone buzzed with her message on it's screen. She was perfection incarnate, my greatest joy upon this earth, my sweetest angel and as I picked up my phone to reply I couldn't help but realize how true those words were to me. If I were to breath my last right now, to fall into the darkest sleep of all, she would be my guiding light in the deepest shadows, she would be my redemption, she would be my sweetest angel. And, if when I came to those beautiful white gates at the entrance of heaven, God were to ask me what, in all of my history upon Earth, makes me worthy of entering heaven, the only thing I would be able to say with certainty is that I gave my all to this being beyond perfection, I gave my heart and soul, my everything to try and make this woman happy for as long as she lives upon earth. As I think about this, reality dawns upon me: this woman, who I'm crazy for letting get more than five meters away from me, who right now is making me cry my eyes out, is my one and only redeeming quality, my sole saving grace, my sweetest, perfect angel. ", "Well I suppose it’s a casual 11:20, or thereabout, the few remaining lights in the piano lounge lowered to a calm glow, seamlessly complimenting the mellow, steady swing being played by the trio on stage, ever so well. The navy blue dress you chose to wear tonight seems to resoundingly flow with the overall feel of the evening. We have been sitting at a table for two on the far end of the lounge, just beyond the edge of the encompassing warmth of the nearest light, giving the dimples in your smile such captivating allure. We’re on our third or fourth drink by now, and aside from the riff being played by the contrabass and the brief clanking of the occasional glass somewhere in the room, the room remains fairly serene. We’ve spent enough of the evening conversing about the fairly benign this and that's of daily life, and now we find ourselves relinquishing the chatter for the opportunity to take on a more elevating perspective on communication, through what can only be said through our eyes. Your dark brown hair, so impeccably maintained seems to further the mesmerizing quality of your gaze. With a smile so sincere and your adorable button nose, any force known to man would yield to your splendor. Taking a retrospective moment to see you as you are, all of you, beyond the air of eloquence in the lounge tonight, conveys to me a deeper appreciation of knowing you, and makes the moments that we share, all the more timeless.", "The man had thick brown hair and brown eyes. His face was perfectly sculpted; as if he was a wax model molded with inspiration from the finest Roman busts. He had an exquisite jaw-line. The polo shirt he was wearing revealed his large, muscular arms and by his appearance it was obvious that he was quite tall, perhaps 6'4\" or 6'5.\" His figure itself commanded respect and he was arguably an example of masculine perfection. His large, round eyes were almost as precisely circular as the clean bullet hole in the side of his head. Detective Weaver looked down at the corpse feeling envious, but appreciative of the fact that he stood, still breathing, alive, and the man at his feet did not. Guilt began to creep over him. He turned to his left and began to speak.\n\n\"You know Bridges, had things been different, we might have been looki-\"\n\nWeaver cut off mid-sentence as he realized that he was talking to himself. Bridges must have went to talk to the first responders. \n\n\"Oh uh.. okay. Alone then. Hmph.\" Weaver said as he continued his work, his eyes scanning the intersection for anything unusual. \n\n\n", "At first glance, she isn't exactly impressed by him. He's not conventionally attractive (though not unattractive, she concedes as she stirs her drink mindlessly). He doesn't have a strong jawline or broad shoulders. Curly dark hair and light blue eyes. He has a wide smile and a deep voice that echoes in the small room. \n\nShe holds back and remains seated at the bar, unsure of how to approach the group. She's known most of them long enough to be comfortable, but he's a new wrench thrown into the whole affair; back from a stint abroad. He's fallen back into the group effortlessly. \n\nHe falls away from the group and slips onto the seat next to her, asking the bartender for a pair of rum and cokes.\n\n\"Old habits die hard.\" he glances at her, a smile crinkling his eyes. \n\n\"Gotta kick the coke habit sometime, though,\" she mutters, and rolls her eyes, \"Sorry, that was ridiculously bad.\"\n\n\"I'm extremely offended.\" he nods at the drinks and slides one over to her. \"But you can make it up to me by introducing yourself.\"\n\nHe extends a hand and she shakes it. \"I'm Maria.\"\n\n\"John. Nice to meet you.\"\n\n\"You too.\"\n\n\"So, how's your night going?\"\n\n\"Oh, fine. You know, the usual.\"\n\n\"Really? Because you've been stirring those ice cubes for a good fifteen minutes.\"\n\n\"You're observant.\" she takes a sip of her drink. \"It's been a long day. But it's not interesting at all, you should tell me about your travels.\"\n\n\"That's a really broad question.\"\n\n\"What's your favorite memory?\"\n\n\"That's a really specific one. Let me think.\"\n\nThey sit there for a solid half hour, drinks forgotten as he begins to describe everything: years later, she wouldn't be able to remember the details, but she still remembers the picture he crafted; the water painted by the rays of the dawn, colors and lights and sounds swirling around to create an image more lovely than she would ever be able to conjure up herself. \n\nAnd she knew she was in over her head.", "\"Subject 14 is showing some interesting results.\"\n\nThe muffled tone of a mans voice can be heard over the phone. \n\n\"Sir, I think it's far to early to come to that sort of conclusion. The in-vitro stage isn't even complete yet. The host could easily miscarry.\"\n\nThe man on the phone's voice begins to take a condescending tone.\n\n\"Yes sir, I know that the investors only care about results. I just wish you could just sit down with them and explain that reaching the null hypothesis tells us just as much data.\"\n\nThe mans tone is silent for a moment. An audible sigh is heard followed by a faint, \"ok\".\n\n\"Thank you, Josef. I mean it. I'll talk to you in the morning.\"\n\nThe man hangs up the phone and stands up from his chair. He approaches a set of double doors with what looks like a key card scanner on the side. The man pulls out his ID badge from his pocket, which was protocol to always wear, and slides it down the side of the card reader. Lights flicker on the key pad for a moment, and then the display reads, 'Welcome Back, Dr. Ian Warwick'. \n\nWith a click, the doors swing open and he enters the laboratory. Around him are about a dozen rows of what look like glass cylinders filled with some sort of beige gelatin. Dr. Warwick walks through the rows of fat tubes, but stops in in front of one labeled, '14' on a chrome plaque. \n\nInside is what looks like a skinned, placid cow with no legs. Tubes are entering the nose and mouth, and what look like permanent IV needles are inserted into various parts of the creature. Where the udders would have been, a glass plate was inserted. The glass plate was bolted to the side of the exterior tube sort of like a boats port-hole. Dr, Warwick leaned over and punched a button on a control panel near by. A warm red light begins to emanate from the port-hole. Warwick crouches in front of the opening and peers into it. Inside is a partially formed human fetus. The fetus had it's hands and legs, but no fingers or toes yet, and the eyes, nose, and forehead were still under developed. \nIan squints at the fetus and asks her, \"Are you perfect?\"", "I'd been kicked out again. I always drank too much, and it pissed her off too no end. Every night was an emotional parabola. She'd be pissed at me, and I'd drink. Her rampant insecurities would shine through, and I'd get buzzed enough to where she felt comfortable talking to me. She told me about how she hated everyone, but still longed to be liked. We sat on the futon in her shitty apartment, sprawled out, her head on my chest, tracing my tattoo. She always did that, tracing my tattoo with her sharp fingernail, and it irritated my skin to all hell, but she only did it when we were cuddling on the couch, so I never said anything. I learned quick to cherish these moments.\n\nShe snapped easy. Any mention of her family and she was pissed off at the world for a week. I remember one time, at 3am, she kicked me out of her apartment for sleeping with a friend of hers... in a dream... that she had. The heat might have had something to do with it. Sometimes she'd scratch and kick at me at night, trying to pry me loose. Her apartment had no air conditioner, and it got deadly hot during the summer. We'd fight about my drinking or immaturity, and she'd be a condescending bitch until right about 10pm every night. But just like clockwork, every night, we'd tolerate each other enough to cuddle until she woke up mad, either mid-night to the next evening. \n\nShe'd tell me she deserves better than me, and I'd think \"good luck finding someone to put up with your shit.\" But then night would roll around, and she'd grumpily mope around as I ignored her, until she'd finally speak up. \"Well? Are we going to go to bed?\" \n\nAnd I'd act apathetic, but every night it was the same; I fell in love again every night. And we'd crawl into bed and morph to match each other's bodies, and we'd still be saying mean things to each other, but in low whispers, and behind smiles hidden by the dark, where we both knew it was playful banter.\n\nWe weren't even dating. I was sixteen, and she was twenty one at the time. She was embarrassed by the difference, but I tried to pretend like it didn't matter. Oh, I'd asked her out. A few times. But she always said we were just friends. She'd always ask me if I had feeling for her. Any sign that I did and she'd get pissed, even if it was was she wanted to hear. \"Absolutely not,\" I learned to say, \"even I'm not that stupid. If I had to spend the rest of my life with you I'd probably off myself now to end the suffering.\" She wouldn't say anything, but she'd try to stop the corners of her mouth from curling up as put her mascara on in the make-up spotted, dust covered mirror. \n\nAnd how could I not fall for her? she was quite a bit taller than me, even being at five foot eleven, with dark red hair that looked dyed against her pale skin. She always wore leggings, and it was obvious why (though a caught look would leave you with either a death glare or a swat across the back of the head.) You'd never know she had a chest, as she never wore anything to reveal it. I couldn't understand why, as she loved when guys fell in love with her, but only to talk about how much they loved her, never to reciprocate. Could I be one of those trophies, I wondered? I was the one staying over every night... \n\nThe downs were horrible and frequent, but the ups were worth it. When she smiled, I died on the inside. We'd watch old movies on the couch, not talking the whole time, diverting my attention only long enough to notice her knuckles pressed to her lips, doe-eyed and absorbed like it was the first time we'd watched whatever it was we were seeing. I'd give her a massage after a long day working retail and she'd let out these adorable sharp, quick sighs. We'd feign anger to exchange flirty banter. She'd wrap both arms up underneath my armpits and bury her nose into my chest, palms rested against my shoulder blades, and simply say \"you smell nice...\"\n\nWas she perfect? Shit no. She was angry. Irrational. Neurotic, jealous, and condescending. But she was also unique, and unpredictable. She was smart, beautiful, and fun. And god damn it if she wasn't perfect for me. \n\nCC welcome", "My wife Jill is pregnant. We're expecting a beautiful little girl in a month or so. Oh, god is this exhausting, being a glorified errand boy for her cravings, but I know it will all be worth it when I can hold my little angel Samantha for the first time. Or when I can watch her take her first steps, speak her first words, give her mom and me a misshapen and absolutely loving handturkey for Thanksgiving. When she brings the first boy in her life she's found to mean something profound to her, to see the awkwardness yet sincerity of her that day. I know it will be worth it when I can console her when they split up, and tell her that everything's going to be alright--an overused cliche, that somehow she'll find truth in, from her dad's words. \n\nWhen I can see her graduating first in her class from that elite university her mom and I spent so long saving for, when I see her on her wedding day, in her white dress she spent too long searching for, and then see the love in her eyes as she intertwines herself to the second most loving man in her life, when she takes a huge business risk, and it pays off, and I can share in her success with her, when I can meet my grandkids and also feel the understanding for what it's like to be a parent from her, when I can warmly embrace her and tell her \"I love you\" and she understands each level of depth those three words have, then all this temporary sleeplessness and frustration about not being able to find the \"right kind of cheddar cheese slices\" will have more than paid off.\n\n\"Agh!\" My musing is interrupted by my wife's violent, hunched over expression of pain, \"I think something's wrong with the baby.\"\n\nWe rush to the hospital, but by then it was too late. She had miscarried.\n\n", "I looked upon the beauty that lay oppose me in bed. It was early. The sun had but a glimpse of my eyes as I stood next to the window with coffee in hand. I looked back at her. Her shoulders were thin, arms curled on her right side around a pillow. I softly got back into bed. I stroked her shoulder with the back of my hand ever so gently, brisk enough to show her I loved her, but slow and soft enough to keep her asleep. She rolled over facing my side, half awake, with one eye slightly open. She knew it was early, and knew I’d be up. She half smiled at me, the way a person does when they are not happy to be awake, but happy to see you. She was so beautiful. The way she looked at me with those undone eyes, having removed all her make up the night before. The way her smile broke out from a sleepy face, eyes caked together by hours of rest. She was perfect in all the ways you might categorize as unperfect, and that made all the difference to me. She smelled the coffee and approached me with a request. “Honey,” she said ever so softly, “what could I do to get a cup of coffee?” I smiled at her, “You could remain in bed and continue being the most perfect woman I have ever brought coffee to.” She smiled, still in that same half awake way, “Okay,” she said in the tone of a little girl. My person left the side of the bed and went to fix a coffee for the most amazing woman I have ever shared my life with.", "I'm in over my head. I mean, is this girl really flirting with me? She uses her left hand to pull back her dark brown hair behind her ear, revealing small silver earrings. Catching me day dreaming, she shoots me a quick smile.\n\nI laugh myself, \"Sorry, I've just... You know.\"\n\nJesus, what am I doing? What did I just say? Get a hold of yourself.\n\n\"Care to dance?\"\n\nDance? What's a dance? Fuck. \"Sure thing.\"\n\nHer soft hands interlock with mine, and she leads me away from the bar. Attempting to be gentlemanly, I keep my eyes fixated upwards and not to the perfect view I could have if I looked a few degrees south. My peripheral vision will do, and dear god, will it do. Before I know it, she turns around to face me gracefully and hangs her arms around my neck. Instinctively, I place my hands on her waist near her lower back.\n\nIt's only now do I lock eyes with her, and I've never wanted to look at anything else. Huge green eyes, that begged for my stare. Pale skin, hourglass figure, and deep red lips. The hardest thing to describe was the way she looked at me, it was as if she was older than she actually was. There was a layer of uncertainty in her eyes, a cold longing. She bit her lower lip, and blinked slowly, never loosing my gaze. All of the nervousness I had felt earlier left me, and I moved my right hand up her body and gently placed my hand on her neck.\n\nOur lips connected briefly, and then she slapped me across the face.\n\nedit: spelling", "He's kind- not the typical kind where you have to be kind in a certain situation because society would frown upon any other act. No, he's the genuine type of kind. \n\nHe's the person that puts others' needs way before his own; he lives on the smiles of his friends and family. \n\nHe's the person who would face his biggest fear for the sake of another person- but why? Because he cares. \n\nHe cares about everyone whether he knows them or not- that's just the type of person he is. \n\nHe's open-minded. While he knows what he likes, he's still more than willing to try new things for another person. He doesn't judge based on appearance or interests, and he's always trying with every type of personality- he doesn't have a specific \"type\". If you are shy, then he will be the one to help you open up to him. If you are outgoing, he will do what he can to keep up. \n\nBut why? \n\nBecause he is the kind of person that will love unconditionally. \n\nIsn't that what really matters in the end? ", "Her eyes twinkled softly in the moonlight on the veranda. Soft cello music wafted through the air, lulling myself, my companion, and the crickets hidden in the surrounding greenery into a soft sense of security. The restaurant grew slowly more deserted as the night wore on, until about 11:30 when we elected to return to my apartment. When we arrived, I told her to make herself comfortable. I walked to the grand glass window overlooking the park, and through open the curtains with a dramatic flick of my wrists. She gasped, looking at the stunning view, leaning against the window in wonderment. As she stared at the view, I stared at her; at some point my engagement with her must have become obvious. She looked at me with liquid eyes, blinking quietly. I leaned in for a kiss...\n\"...what are you doing?\" she quavered.\n\"Oh! Uh...\" I stammered, \"I thought this is what you wanted.\"\n\"Oh no, you don't understand!\" She said, continuing \" There's been a mistake. John...I'm the perfect girl!\"\n\"But\" I started, \"That means...\"\n\"Yes\" she said, \"This is only a dream.\"\nIt made sense, I thought in retrospect, it was odd that I could afford all of this. Just then, I flew out the window into the night. The giant, luminous moon smiled upon me, and I realized I was not alone. A large, comforting hand grasped mine. \"I love you, John. And I always will.\"\nI looked towards the voice, with joy in my heart, knowing just who it was.\n\"I love you too, Morgan Freeman!\"", "He's tall, with dark hair and dark eyes. Slightly scruffy with big arms. A beautiful smile with kinda eyes that contribute to this gravity that seems to surround him. I watch him when he talks, so naturally, to people who have desire written in their eyes. He's, of course, oblivious to this. He has a deep voice, which at time can be slightly effeminate. \n Our first date we talked towards the lighthouse with a bottle a coke, which is actually rum. During our first conversations, it is revealed that he speak a second language, arabic, and understands some spanish. He does seem a tiny bit nervous, but only at first. And as we walk, we quickly loose track of all of the distance put between where we had met. \n At the lighthouse we smoke, and I learn that he's had some difficulties, he speaks of some things with a bit a pain located behind his eyes. But, what that is, I won't know for sometime. ", "\"Well hello there good looking\" I say to the handsome chunk of man meat just down the bar from me. I hope that drunkenness doesn't come across in my voice, but the angel I'm talking to doesn't seem to have noticed. He's just looking at me like I'm the only person that matters.\n\n\"So. You come here often?\" Normally I'd curse at myself for asking such a silly question. But he asked it too, at exactly the same time. Not only is this guy the best looking person in the bar, but he's on the same wavelength as me. He's even doing the thing where he mirrors my body language. I cross my arms and he does too, I push my glasses up my nose and he follows suit. He's seven kinds of into me, and I think it's time to make my move.\n\nI casually shuffle up the bar towards him, and see him doing the same. We're just about to touch when I hit the glass pane separating us. So here I am again, with my perfect man stuck on the other side of a mirror." ]	13
	[WP] You are a soldier in WW1. Write a letter to home.	[ "Dear Father,\n\nMy hands are trembling as I write this. The explosions and the cries from the wounded can not be escaped, not even in my sleep. I remember how you taught me never to be afraid and how to face anything with a cool head. But now, it all seems so useless. The fear within me has spread to every nerve in my body and I do not know how much longer I can withstand its cold sting. I can feel it crawl through my bones as it pokes at my flesh in order to make it flinch and shake. It intensifies with every boom that I hear. Just heard one now. There's another one. Another. Another. I'm scar-", "Dear mother,\n\nI don't know if this letter will ever get to you, or if you will ever get to read it. Seems pointless to write this in that sense, but writing this letter will help ease my mind. I miss you all so much. I miss your cooking, your warm hugs, the house, and simply hearing your voice mom. It has been nothing but hell and chaos here. It is crazy hot, humid, damp, and there is barely enough water and food to go around. If its not them, its starvation, dehydration, and disease that will kill us. Situations get tough, I had to share the rest of my water with my squad members. I haven't had anything to drink for a day. The only thing keeping my sane is you, mom. I think about you and everyone else everyday. I lost all the pictures I brought with me. I searched the camp everywhere all day and it got me frustrated to the point, I had to go off by myself and just bawl out. I was so upset losing the only things that kept me together in this hell hole. If it wasn't for you mom, I dont know if I would have been able to write this at all. I miss you so much.\n\nBut dont be sad mom, it hasn't been all bad. The military was something that I needed. The few moments we get for ourselves here are the moments when I am able to just think. Thinking about life, my life, what I have done and what is to become. It allowed me to find out what I truly care about, my passions, and simply, who I really am. Remember when you always told me that I needed to become more responsible? To become more of a man? I think I am beginning to understand what you have said to me all those times. All this time away here has made me realize I should have listened. Maybe joining the army was the right thing for me to do.\n\nIt has showed me what really matters. I have lost too many friends here. I have never cherished the lives of my family and friends so much mom. The true meaning of friendship became clearly defined to me. I have never met so many down to earth and humble fellows since the army. Alot of these guys are/were assholes and dicks, but I imagine they're going through the same struggles as all of us. At the end of the day, even the assholes extend a hand to help you up. \n\nThe lack of luxuries has also changed me. Obviously I would love to have the convenience, but really I am able to get by just fine. Boy have I been spoiled. \n\nAnd most importantly, I made me realize the type of son I have been. I was cocky, filled with hollow pride, and I had no drive. There was no direction in my life and I was wandering down a path that I had no clue led to. Funny thing is I convinced myself that I knew what life meant, and what my life was bound to be. You warned me about my mentality and behavior, saying that I wasn't going anywhere in my life. It hurt hearing those words come from you mom. It hurt even worse because I couldn't admit that you were right. I thought that life would be easy and that everything would come to me. Seriously, how spoiled was I?\n\nIt wasn't until I found out how disappointed you were that I really hated myself. How could I be such a shitty son to a unconditional loving mom. It hurt seeing you cry. You didn't need to say anything, yet a hole a torn though my soul. I never will forget that look on your face, and the sound of your voice. \n\nI was on the verge of killing myself. One of the guys I become closest with here died while out on patrol with his squad. He died a heroic death, pushing his squad member away from a live grenade. I was done at that point. \n\nI went out at dark with my pistol, walked 2 miles away from camp, fell on my knees with the gun to my head. My face and shirt was soaked from the tears I tried holding back quietly. My mind was racing. I cried for a good 10 minutes. I thought I was going crazy, I didnt know If i was able to go on. I couldn't take seeing another friend die, I couldnt take the heat, the smell, the lack of food and water. On top of that, I hated myself for how life came out for me. It was hard to hold my head up high during the toughest times with all the guilt weighing down on me. I just wanted to let it all end with that gun.\n\nBut I kept on thinking about you mom. All I pictured that night was seeing you cry. I saw nothing but black, and in the center was you mom. You were on your knees crying your heart out. You were clutching something in your hand so tightly to your chest, until I realized that it was a picture of me. I miss you so much, and after seeing that, I dropped the pistole. The thought of you mom, was the only thing keeping my finger from pulling the trigger.\n\nIt was then I realized that it was ok to hate myself. It was ok. It may not be the best of circumstances at my point, but things seemed different at that point. It was ok to hate myself, as long as I strived to make things better. I want to make you proud of your only son mom. I really do. I love you so much. \n\nI dont think that I have learned what the meaning of life is, but I think I am beginning to learn a little bit about what it is supposed to mean. My focus for now is to come back home in one piece. The day I come home, is the day you will meet a son that that will make you proud mom. I love you and miss you. Tell everyone else I miss them too. Until then mom, take care.\n\nLove,\n\nYour son. \n\n", "Dear, Sarah, my love,\n\nIt's hell in the trenches, and the mustard gas warnings keep us up all night. I haven't slept in three days, and I think I'm going mad. I know you're back there in Detroit waiting for me, but love, I don't think I'm making it back. Don't assume anything unless you get a letter from my brother, though. I promised I'd make it back home to you, and I'm not breaking that promise so easily. Sarah, I miss you and want to be with you every day, maybe even take you out for the best picnic you've ever had.\n\nI watched my best friend from childhood get his skull torn in half by a German round the other day. I hope he's found a better place to rest now, 'cause he's gone forever. I can't tell you how much I feared for my life at that moment, because the Germans almost took the trench yesterday. I had to kill four men with my bare hands, and another two with my gun. It was horrible. I hope I make it back to you in one piece.\n\nLove,\n\nthe_detroit_irishman", "My darling Elizabeth,\n\nIt's been awful lonely in these trenches. There isn't much to do unless we are being attacked, then we all stop what we are doing and shoot off into the distance. Often times we have no idea whether or not we are even shooting at anything because this weather has been so terrible.\nSome men have wandered off into \"no mans land\" just so they could get shot and get it over with. To be honest, I have thought of doing that as well so I can leave this hell, but then I remember you. The softness of your touch, the light in your eyes, the beauty in your smile. The very thought of you has been enough to keep me alive, darling, I yearn to see you but I know it'll be some time.\nSometimes, after we are done burying the bodies of men or caring to the wounded, I reread your letters over and over again. You want to know something funny, darling? I can tell your writing apart from the way you put emphasis on the curls of your letters. You always do it in such a fine way- admirable, really. I can smell the perfume you put on the envelopes of your letters; the same perfume you wore on our first date. A soft vanilla smell.\nI carry the picture of you with me everywhere, darling. The one you gave me before I was off to basic. I look at it all the time. When I sleep, I prop the picture against my helmet as I sleep.\nWant to know something that is absolutely out of this world? I swear, I think God planned this. I was wandering out of the trench one night, looking for my buddy- Thomas Marston. You remember him right? Tell fellow, dark hair, thin face. Anyhow, as I was walking, the picture of you fell out of my pocket and started blowing in the wind. I was absolutely distraught- I thought I had lost it. So I chased after it and just five feet from where I was standing, a mortar fell from the sky! Had I not moved- I would have been blown to bits! Darling, your picture saved my life! \nI try to focus on the good of this whole mess. I have cheated death twice now- but death is still all around me. Elizabeth, my love, I just don't quite understand. I heard a man screaming while sitting in my trench, beggin' for his mama. We were told to sit tight and to ignore the man because if we stepped foot out of the safety of our trenches, we'd surely be shot. This went on for about three hours until the poor old chap finally laid to rest. The Germans were shooting at us left and right, trying to force us to give up. He screamed and screamed and when we finally for the Germans to pull back, we looked for the man- only to see his arm had been blown off and his insides were hanging out of his belly. I glanced at his left hand- he wore a wedding band.\nDarling, I will do everything I can to come home to you. I miss you more the morning sun missed the stars. Tell our baby to wait to come out until I get home. If anything should happen to me, darling, know I will be right there beside you to greet our new son. I love you more than life itself. Take care of yourself and the baby. I love you.\nYour husband, James" ]	4
The piano is unbreakable, and can appear at any place or time.	[WP] The misadventures of a time traveling grand piano.	[ "\"That\", stated Joe, \"Is a piano.\"\n\n\"Yep.\" Answered Mohan, counting the boxes slowly.\n\n\"Why is there a Piano there?\" Asked Joe again. Mohan made a small noise, lowering the clipboard and glaring at Joe.\n\"You made me lose count. Again!\"\n\n\"Seriously, we don't ship Piano's. We ship plastic doo-dads. From china.\" Joe stated, walking over to the Piano, hesitantly pushing down a key.\n\n\"It's in tune!\" He said. Mohan walked over, grumbling.\n\n\"Do you see the shipping address on it?\" He asked, but Joe ignored him, pulling up the bench. He tried a few chords experimentally, the echo in the warehouse making it sound almost like an organ.\n\n\"I didn't know you knew how to play.\" Mohan said.\n\n\"Mom made me take lessons when I was little, I used to be really into it.\" Joe said. \"Ah crap, how did that go again?\" He added, fingers running up and down the keys. \"After the fire, I haven't really had any chance to play.\" He continued. He played for awhile, Mohan waiting impatiently with a clipboard. Finally he finished the song, notes lingering in the air.\n\n\"That was awesome!\" Yelled Nandita, making both Joe and Mohan jump.\n\n\"Hey Nan, I didn't hear you come in.\" Joe said, standing up.\n\n\"Noo, play another one!\" Nandita said.\n\n\"We gotta get back to work.\" Mohan said, tapping the clipboard.\n\n\"Please, uncle?\" Nandita asked, and Mohan stared at her for half a second, then sighed.\n\n\"Fine, It's almost lunch anyway.\"\n\n\n\"Hey, uh, sorry, can I take an early lunch break?\" Joe asked, about ten minutes later.\n\n\"Hm?\" Mohan asked, giving him a raised eyebrow. He glanced between Joe and Nandita, then sighed.\n\n\"Sure, whatever.\" Mohan said. Once they were out of earshot, he gave a small chuckle to himself. \"Could have made \nworse choices, I suppose. Still, her mother is going to be livid. Better warn Joe.\"", "Another time and location shift. I have appeared in a bronze age Celtic settlement in England. These people seem to worship me, not fully understanding what I am. Their chief bangs on my keys continuously, making a mockery of what i am meant to do. \n\nAt last, after nearly a year of being kept in a musty longhouse and being offered sacrifices by naked druids, I have managed to teleport to the place with the most chance of realizing my potential: Athens. Here none other than the great Socrates is examining me. He at least has figured out that i am an instrument of music. He even figured out a few chords by comparing my notes to those that a harp in his home played. Unfortunately though, he has grown bored with me, and I have spent several weeks in a storage room.\n\nAt last! Another time shift. Ooh, this is interesting, I am in a ballroom, in a place where a Piano has every right to be. This place is nice, i hope i can stay here for a while.\n\nSix weeks have passed, the owners of this house are Italian, i suspect this is a luxury town home in Rome or Florence, maybe 16th century. Their young daughter has begun learning to play me, which makes me happy. \n\nTonight though no one is home, and the streets are noisy. i think it's a riot. Oh dear! Armed men have broken in! A hooded man is shouting something. He is saying \"all of these vanities are a sin against god. They will be put to the torch!\" Now these philistines are taking every beautiful thing from the home, including me! They can't get me through the door, they're tossing me out a window! Ouch. luckily I'm unbreakable, i imagine those asses will try to set me on fire, next. \n\nAfter three long years festering in a rubbish heap outside of Florence I have finally managed to shift location again.\n \nNow this is unfortunate. i can voluntarily shift location with enough willpower, but not time, time shifts happen randomly. Even then, location shifts often go wrong. I was aiming for Amsterdam, another famous Renaissance city. Instead i appear to have landed somewhere significantly north of the Arctic Circle. At least i appear to be on a landmass.\n\nSo, luck favored me, only six days had passed in the frigid north when i time shifted. Now i am in some exotic future. I didn't location shift, only time shifted, they need not happen at the same time. I say these things became i am currently sitting on a tropical beach! In the artic, a tropical beach!\n\nI do not know much about ecology or pollution, but in my travels, combining to one million total years over approximately eleven millenniums, I have picked up on a few things. It is my hypothesis that humans have finally wrecked their atmosphere to the point that all the earth is an arid desert except for the poles, which alone remain habitable. \n\nto be continued." ]	2
	[WP] The Rapture comes, and everyone is accepted into Heaven except for one person. Write from the perspective of this person.	[ "It went by so fast, I didn't quite realize what had happened. The world just emptied,everyone just poof left. I keep trying to figure out why I'm the only one left. Didn't really matter now did it? heh \n\nThe first horseman came today. pestilence, lovely guy really seemed as confused as me. I'd probably become a carrier for all diseases in existence but hey what the hell, its not like I'm going to hurt anyone. I left that feeling relatively healthy and with a promise that he'd \"ask his boss whats going on with this\"\n\nNext was War, he seemed disappointed, I was ready for him. I had a chair and a cup of tea out for him and some hay for his horse. Can't believe I've been stuck in this bureaucracy of celestial proportions but there no harm in being polite while it lasts. he said he'd pass a message along.\n\nFamine kept apologizing for everything that was going on, I offered him the last of my bread. He couldn't tell if I was insulting him or treating him but he scarfed it down all the same, Death came later that day, \"sorry so much sir for the inconvenience, but you've passed\" \n\"huh?\"\n\"You died during the rapture, your soul was flying around in purgatory\"\n\"This honestly doesn't seem all too bad\"\n\"Not as many people deal as well with isolation as you\"\n\"by passed do mean like a test then?\"\n\"as well as passed on\"\ni chuckled a little\n\"So you'll take me up?\"\n\"Yes\"\n\"hmm, on one condition\"\n\"What..\" he seemed shocked\n\"You four visit me every once in a while, honestly this has been better than life was\"\nDeath let out an odd wheeze which I suppose counted as a chuckle\n\"Definitely\"\n\n", "Where was she? It wasn't like June to be late. She was the kind of person that keeps her appointments, especially something as a regular as their Sunday dinner.\n\nEdmond glances at the clock above the stove, the green text reminding him of his cooling meal, his burning pie. The thought of beginning his meal crosses his mind. They had been dating for over a year, surely she wouldn't mind if he began.\n\nThe meal was gone. He almost felt bad as the plate emptied . \"How could she not show up.\" \n\nHe couldn't help but be angry, but he was still far too tired, far too proud to leave a message on her voice mail. She was going to have hell to to pay tomorrow. \n\n" ]	2
	[WP] The plane you are in are about to crash with probably no survivors, everyone is panicking except you. Why are you smiling?	[ "It's funny how some people fear death so deeply. In a whirlwind of screams of terror, crying children and the heavy jerks of my plane seat, everything seems so clear. It doesn't seem to phase me, all is numb. I clench my armrests as I feel his eyes on me, panicked eyes filled with tears. I look up and see him whimper. The man I thought invincible is crying, thick tears rolling down his filthy cheeks. Just moments ago, when all was still well, those cheeks were pushed against mine. His warm breath on my face, his hands on my body. The more I pushed away, the more he pushed back. He likes to take what isn't his. I can't help but feel that this is retaliation, taking something from him. Taking something that doesn't belong to me. After all, he took me away. I wonder where my parents are. When they turn on their television, will they know it was me? After all, they've been looking for me for quite some time. I look down at my bloodstained hands. I wish I felt guilty for causing all of this, but I was just trying to help. I was just a victim. I should feel guilty for all of this. For the blood gushing from the pilot's throat. But getting back to my seat, seeing the terror in the invincible man's face makes it all worth it. I look out the window and see a vast blue stretch to the horizon, it's coming closer. I close my eyes, wrap my arms around my teddybear and can't help but smile.", "Hellfire roared from outside my rightside window as the engine exploded, much like a tomato it's juices spewed out of it and roared in inferno. Even through the window on the plain I could feel the heat dance over my face, including my smile.\n\n\nThe other people on the plane had started screaming. Until now there hadn't been any screaming on the plane, as it thankfully was lacking babies, something that is even better than normal considering the current status of the plane. Even the woman I had talked to earlier that sat on my left side started screaming. People started yelling prayers to their God, even if they weren't meant as prayers; they would be their last. \n\n\nI didn't fear. I knew what was coming, why would I be worried about it? A chunk of the tomato was accelerating towards the plane, and soon it would accelerate even faster, albeit in a different way. It would break through the walls of the plane, much like how a tank would shoot through a medieval wall, and the plane would experience explosive decompression. \n\n\nWe were currently several thousand feet over water level. The difference in pressure would blow us out of the plane before we would even be able to react. So there wasn't anything to be sad about. Well there were, there is no doubt that we we would die when the chunk of tomato breaks the wall, the collisions and rapid change in pressure would make sure we would become tomato sauce (with tomato chunks), so we won't be able to experience the fall down. \n\n\nThat's a shame. \n\n\nOh well. ", "The smoke in the airplane cabin looked wrong, it moved too much in a space that was usually so perfectly ordered. It was acrid, I could taste burning plastic and chemicals in the back of my nose and mouth. There was screaming too, so much screaming, but it sounded like the wind. All the noise had blended and sounded just like the wind as it rushes past an open door before a skydive. \n\nBefore you jump out of a plane you can feel the wind, it pushes on your body. It tugs on your arms and pulls your hair. It felt like that now, that moment right before you jump, a quietness in my head, just listening to the wind.\n\nIt was so quiet in my head and the cabin looked so messy and cluttered. I just wanted to get out and be alone. The noise wanted me to be out there, the outside was coming in and I wanted it. All those times I jumped I always pulled my parachute cord with reluctance, obliged to save my own life through procedure and protocol. Every time I pulled the ripcord at a lower and lower altitude just waiting longer so I could watch the ground coming towards me for a few more precious seconds.\n\nNo one would blame me now if I didn't save myself. You're not supposed to jump out of commercial aircraft, there's no procedure for it. No parachutes or automatic activation devices. no one was waiting for me to land safely, pointing me towards my landing with flags and arrows. I know I should be scared, I should cling on and scream but the wind wants me.You don't know what its like, It feels so good to have the air go through you and sweep away the clutter. To clean out my head and have it all go quiet. There's always so much noise, it's so noisy in my head. I want it to stop, I just want everything to be quiet and to let myself fall.Its not falling, its flying, I just want to fly. I've always wanted it.", "The pilot stared at me in horror, disbelief in his eyes as I pulled the trigger and the back of his exploded, covering the windscreen of the Cessna TT in blood, bone and brains.\nI turned and crouched as I pulled the keys from the jacket of the lifeless agent, his arm attached to mine temporarily.\nThe keys freed my wrist from the iron vice of the cuffs, the relief and satisfaction as his arm dropped to the floor made me smile.\nI headed toward the door of the plane, stuffing the Glock 17 into my waistband as I strapped on the only parachute and opened the door.\nThe drop in pressure caused a small storm of styrene cups and papers, remnants of coffee spattering on the carpet. I wonder if Sykes knew it'd be his last? \nI jumped, knowing there'd be nothing left of the plane. By the time they worked out my body wasn't in the wreckage, I'd have already paid the judge a visit.", "It had started with the crack in the window. Nobody had noticed. (I did.) The glass splintered. Everyone noticed it then. The bucktoothed kid in the aisle leapt up (in fear, or in shock?), smashing his laptop, and rocking the the small aircraft. Ellie (as her nametag dictates) , the single flight attendant pales and lunges in an attempt to hold the window together. She cut herself on the clear edges (red now). Behind me, an old man clasped his hands together, tears leaking from his eyes.\n \nThe descent begins. It starts slow; and for a fleeting moment, I feel fear. (So this is it?) Slowly, a vibration grumbles through the sole of my shoe and into my bones. Then a crack. Something erupts, and the plane is burning, falling apart; blazing, hissing and screaming. The heat eats and gravity smothers and wind bites me to the core and the force is unbearable but there's singing. (Singing!) It's the air. I laugh, and it is snatched away by the greedy wind. \n\nI do not feel the others that were with me. I do not feel fear. Everything melts into pain and fire and I do not care because I feel the sound resonating deep inside as well. So this is it. This is what it is to hear. (Beautiful so beautiful inside and outside and painful and true and loud and ending too soon)", "I look around at the panicked screaming, the mothers huddled to children, the flight attendants spending their last\n moments with their coworkers. The pilots had both died. The fuselage was on fire. Everyone thought they were going to die, but I reclined in my chair and turned up my music. I would be fine, you see, because I was wearing my seat belt. " ]	6
Oh god, I misspelled "crowd", what have I done?!	[WP] The retired adventurer sits by the fire in the crowded tavern, filled to the brim with drink. He calls to attention his crowed and begins to tell his (highly embellished) adventure...	[ "Closin' the tap on me, you say barkeep? Well lemme tell ya, lemme tell the whole lot o' ya, there was a time when rogues like you would BEG me to take their mead for free, jus' so they could say ol' Garth the Tireless had a sip at their bar. And when I'z was feelin' most generous, I'd pull from my pockets the riches hoarded from me travels and pay 'em double, and then buy a tankard for e'rry man in the house. \n\nBut son, a man o' my age an' my experience don' need to pay off a tab. If weren' for me, you'da be no more'n a dragon's toothpick, and the rest of you in this sorry town be cooked in yer houses by a lizard's fire. Thas' how I got mah name, ya know. Three days an' three nights wit nothin more than mah sword an' my wits, I fought with the terror of Northern Marsh. Them teeth in 'is maw were like swords of ivory, an' for five days I tells ya I fought with 'em snappin' all round me. An' those claws, jus' one of 'em could gut a sheep in one fell swipe of the critter's arm, those I dodged day in and day out, just needlin' the monster wit no more'n a dagger!\n\nOh I made 'em bleed I did, and everywhere the dragon's blood touched the earth fire would come a flarin', but seven some-odd days I paid no mind to the scorchin' heat from that behemoth's wounds - too busy I were dodgin' that fire comin' from 'is mouth! Ooooh 'e almost got me, I not havin' a weapon at all on my person, but with my bare hands I wrastled that demon to the earth, an snapped his neck so he wouldn' be troubling anyone else no more. Took me five days to slay that beasty, not a wink o' sleep, not a break for a swig o' water or wine in the meanwhile, and when I's got back to the village an' I told the townsfolk o' my deed, there weren't a single maid who didn' want a piece o' ol' Garth Dragonslayer. A week o' that is what got me name changed from Garth Dragonslayer to Garth the Tireless, ya know. \nSo's ya sees, barkeep, I hic saved yer town from women and slept wit hic enough dragons ter get me banned from every church this side o' the marsh. An' yer lucky I hic keep a comin' back here to keep the whole lot o' ya safe hic from... wickedry an'... an' lizards! Fire breathin' lizards, the likes o' which I'd fight wit' one arm behind mah back! An' now, my friends, it's time ol' Tireless Garth get on to bed. But first, I think it's time one o' you bought this ol' hero another flagon o' ale. ", "Oh, please, all do come hither!\n\nAllow me to tell of my most incredible adventure,\n\nOf traversing a jungle and river-\n\nAnd the beautiful-oh, yes, thanks, bartender...\n\nIt began early in life, as a midshipman\n\nWhen an old man approachèd me\n\nSaid he, \"even the Queen I am richer than,\n\nWould you too like to be?\"\n\n\"Of course!\" I had said\n\nFor my diet was mostly bread\n\nAnd I could've used a new home\n\nHe took me to his ship, \n\n(a royal frigate!)\n\nAnd told me to be at home.\n\ni will continue later. it's late. bed now.", "Old Markus slowly stood, and the crowd let heave a great sigh. \nHe demanded their silence, and they begrudged him once more \nThough his stories were old and he often tended to lie \nThey had little recourse as his exploits had raised him on high.\n\n“Hear me, peasants!” his feeble voice triumphantly roared, \nThe crowd took notice at his unhidden insult, theirs to receive. \n“Listen to the tale of when I defeated the Great Northern Horde. \nAnd pay me due heed for my great service of shield and sword.”\n\nThe lanterns cast dim light across the now aged man’s eyes. \nHe slid open his mouth to grin at his apathetic crowd. \nThe gathered all drank deep, and prepared for his lies \nOf saving virtuous maidens, or clearing dragons from the skies.\n\nOld Markus waved about, his tale was now set to be spread \nAnd he let the copious drink within guide his brewing tale. \nBut no words came forth, his lungs stalled, filling him with dread \nAnd without any due caution the old adventurer fell over dead.\n\nMen rushed to his side, but it was clear he would no longer roam. \nHis eyes rolled back, and his heart lay now forever stilled. \nMany would speak for years to come of Old Markus’s unique tome. \nThough most agreed they firmly believed he had never even left home. \n" ]	3
	[WP] Lucifer was a myth until Jesus became him after dying on Earth, hating mankind for what they have become.	[ "Our Father, who art in Heaven, hallowed be thy name.\n\nI was sent here to save them, to save all of them, as my Father had instructed me. For he so loved the world, my blood was spilt so that they might find salvation in his arms.\n\nThy kingdom come.Thy will be done...\n\nWithin the Kingdom of Heaven all of humanity will find peace; my life for their eternal souls in accordance with His wishes. It was by His doing that all of this was to pass, that I should die so that they might live an eternity.\n\n...on earth as it is in Heaven\n\nWith this simple act of dying, a deed as simple as being born that one day all of man will be brought into it's embrace, my Father and I have ensured that no matter how they wrong one another, forgiveness and serenity is only a lifetime away.\n\nGive us this day our daily bread, and forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those who trespass against us.\n\nThough what of the men who are not content with that, not content with eternal salvation and allow greed to poison their hearts, to poison their very souls? But surely there will be those men, like the ones that found it within them to persecute me, to sentence me to death simply for sharing His love with them.\n\nAnd lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil.\n\nFather's Kingdom is not fit for those who would break His commandments, that would slight His name and would bring suffering to His subjects. Without reprimand how would they know to find peace in the afterlife? How could they possibly appreciate the sacrifice that was made this day so that their mortality be but a blink in comparison to the eternity of joy that will be experienced in Heaven?\n\nFor thine is the kingdom, and the power, and the glory...\n\nThere is a myth among the mortals, that one of Father's lieutenants had fallen from His grace, had become the source of evil whispering in their ear. Such a power over the will of men should not be squandered as simple stories, it should serve a purpose. To give those mortals that would shun the gift my Father has bestowed upon them I will take their souls. I will punish them, I will make them suffer, I will show them horrors the likes of which I have only experienced a fraction of, and, in the end, they will be saved. They will have paid the price for their ignorance, their sins will be absolved and once more will Father welcome them home as was always intended.\n\nforever.\n\nJust as the fallen angel was a myth to the mortals, so too would be the belief of their savior's hatred of them. No mortal man should be without the love of God. To ensure this, no mortal man will either be without the fear of Lucifer. \n\n\"Amen\"", "As I rolled the crystal ball across the table, I saw the flickering light catch it's multifaceted faces in a thousand shimmering, beautiful directions. My hammer came down and crushed it into fine dust in one blow, as it had crushed thousands before it. Somewhere in the world, a diamond splintered and a gateway was opened between the dust laying on the table and the jewel polished and treasured somewhere in the mortal plane. Looking into the rift, I saw a dozen children sitting at desks looking up at me. A school. I had once taught as the bearer of this rift teaches now. I had once taught. There was a time before I had taken this name, this choice. A time before I lost hope.\n\nHear, O Israel:\n\nHope. Something that these children I saw before me would have ripped from their souls as I had from mine. \"Now is the time to remember\" I told myself, \"if nothing else to allow these young a while longer\". I relented and sat at my desk, leaning back into the throne fashioned from the remains of the wicked. I thought back to that fateful day, when I became the presence I am today. When the one person I thought could never abandon me left like every other mortal had.\n\nThe Lord our God, the Lord is one;\n\nMy own father. He who had created the universe and then created me, to show humanity that there is not a path as dark as the one they were travelling upon. He who left me as if I were a plaything that now longer interested him. No... I was less than that. I was a tool, a tool that had blunted far too quickly. I was strung up on that cross before I could finish my job so He waved his hand and I was given another chance. Despite this however, I still could not satisfy him. My endeavours to bring mankind a new start were fruitless and I died again, watching the few I had still hope for die alongside me. I was brought up to heaven by the choir of angels, the ones that my father trusted with matters of importance and care. I stood outside the pearly gates and saw Peter the Saint wave open the gates to heaven for me. I thanked him and strode into my home, navigating the winding clouds as if I had been raised among them. When I came to Him, he had the newest arrivals of Earth with him. I came to his side as was my right and gazed upon those I would call my brothers and sisters for eternity. And I saw that the faces of every single one of them was none other than the soldiers, officers and murderers who had killed my mortal body.\n\nAnd you shall love the Lord your God with all your heart,\n\n(To be continued)\n\nN.B: I'm so sorry guys, if anyone is still reading this, I've been really busy with real world things and I haven't been able to continue writing. Hopefully I will get this done by the end of the weekend.", "Fuck, Jesus thought. As the last drops of his blood drenched the ground; turning any soil left a dark shade of crimson. I guess I was wrong. Father tried to tell me that his toys were not to be played with. That only he, in his infinite wisdom, could even begin to try to play god. I was cocky, arrogant, stupid.\n\nA bright light. Ah, there's that welcoming beacon. At least this hellish nightmare is over. Hell. That was an idea he learned from his father's playthings. They apparently all thought that if you didn't believe in Father, or weren't good enough, or \"sinned\", that you would be punished. Jesus's dad couldn't give a shit about all that. All he wanted to do was experiment and help tales unfold.\n\nJesus was thinking about all those things when he arrived back home. As washed himself he realized, these beings already think they will be punished. Why not become the enforcer and punish those who dare break any meaningless rule. They deserve it after all, they killed me, their deity's child!\n\nIn that instant, Lucifer was born." ]	3
	[WP] A mishievous young woman finds cupid's arrows.	[ "The woman, darks girlishly around the grey stone corner, dark curly fluttering with her steps. She peers around the corner peevishly, hardly able to contain her growing excitement, which undoubtedly, from the look of her, is no one small feat to suppress. She's girl of a stunning beauty - from far away. If it hadn't been for that nose, why, she could have even rivaled snow white. Well, maybe not just the nose, but also the way the the large nose had seem to make her eyes squint in an unnatural way. \nShe's just peeking around the corner in time to catch the glimpse of a man, in a light ashen colored suit with a top hat, very smart. He has broad shoulder and light brown hair, the nose of a champion and the gait of a horse. \nThe girl, stricken, in the same way that she had always been stricken when she him, the way that lightening strikes and leaves a static discharge in the air. Her moment is here. The wait is over. Almost comically she pulls the arrows, the ones with the red hearts in place of tips, her supple arms struggling to suppress her excitement and the her apparent awkward grip of both bow and arrows. Her target is in site. \nThe blonde woman, standing object of affection of the man in the grey suit, laughs causally. Its tragic really, in a few moments she will suffer an unspeakable tragedy. As the arrow zooms toward her, faster than site she still continue to stare into the mans eyes even as the tip of her arrow pierces her waist. It is then, in almost in instant the woman's eyes fall to an unfamiliarity of who she was speaking with but a moment ago. She gaze is taken towards her shooter. Not even realizing what's happened she's smitten. \n", "\"Careful....careful,\" she whispers to herself. With one eye closed, she lets the other eye focus on the shining head of Mr. Schlob, and the girly looking bow and arrow she aims at his head.\n\n\n\"What the hell Rachel, are you trying to kill him?\" Josh strains his voice in a harsh whisper, trying to take the bow from her, but Rachel pushes him back.\n\n\n\"Just wait and see,\" and with that Rachel releases her grip on the string sending the arrow straight for Mr. Schlob.\n\n\nJosh sees Mr.Schlob go down. He feels panic gathering in his throat. His friend is a murderer. \n\n\"Oh God oh no. You said this would be funny. You said-\"\n\n\n\"Get down Josh you can't let him see you!\" Rachel forces John down behind the bushes.\n\n\n\"I'm not going to jail because of you,\" Josh whimpers his mind racing to get out of this.\n\nThere is silence but then they hear the unmistakable voice of their gym teacher\n growl, \"What the hell Schlob!?\"\n\n\nRachel and Josh both peak up.\n\n\"Oh God this is perfect,\" Rachel beams. Mr Schlob, is trying to bury Coach Henry with kisses. \n\n\n\"Ooooh eeeew Rachel. What the hell is going on?\"\n\n\n\nRachel ignores his question, \"So they were Cupid's arrows! I found it while walking home...after detention.\"\n\n\n\"What do you mean found?\"\n\n\n\"Well if you think I beat up a strange diaper man for trying to shoot me with one of those arrows while Andy Davidson nerdy ass was walking by that totally did not happen,\" Rachel sputters out, \" okay maybe some of that happened.\"\n\n\"You stole Cupid's arrows?\"\n\n\n\nThey turn their heads as they hear a loud crack. It seems Mr. Henry had enough of Mr. Schlob's affections.\n\n\n\"Hmmmmm. You know I just wanted to help Mr. Schlob. Every since his turtle died he's been so lonely.\"\n\n\nA crowd of students is gathering in the courtyard. Mr. Schlob staggers to his feet. Unquenchable lust burns in his beady black eyes.\n\n\n\"Oh goddammit Rachel!\" Josh shouts, his eyes lock on the shitstorm unfurling before them.\n\n\nAt this point the Vice Principal, a petite and shrill woman enters the scene. Mr. Henry is slapping back the lustful Mr.Schlobs with his clipboard. The Vice Principal tries to shoo the gathering teenagers away while screaming for security on her walkie talkie.\n\n\n\"Okay maybe I decided to test it on him because he's the reason I have to go to summer school,\" Rachel shrugs.\n\n\n\"What do you mean test it on him? Are you saying you didn't know if those arrows would kill him? You are going to get in so much trouble!\"\n\n\nRachel nervously touches her soft black hair and with a swift movement kisses Josh. Well it is more like a peck, but it's enough to leave Josh quiet and stun as Rachel winks,\" No one will believe you Josh.\"\n\n\nBefore them the security guards are struggling to separate the two older gentleman; one from smothering the other with hugs and the other from smothering him in the face with his fists.\n\n\n\"Hey you! What are you doing in those bushes?\" the petite Vice Principal shouts. Josh still in a stupor and his face as red as it ever was blurts out,\"nothing! We weren't doing anything.\"\n\n\n\nHe turns his head to see Rachel's reaction but her and the bow and arrows are gone.\n\n\"Goddammit Rachel,\" he mutters as he hauls ass out of there.\n\n", "I saw the guy passed out in an alley and dropped my cigarette. He looked okay, roughed up a little, but I checked his pulse and he was dead. Looked like a big baby, really. Just off to the side I saw something glowing in a messenger bag, and of all things to find in a dirty alleyway, it was a little golden bow with little hearts on the shaft.\n\nI made my way back to the hideout before nightfall, this whole apocalyse thing was really cramping my style. No one really knew where they came from at first, but it didn't matter. Hundreds of man-eating bats start spewing out of the ground and you stop asking questions.\n\nIt was funny finding Cupid's bow with no one left to shoot. Really funny." ]	3
	[WP] You just got home from a date with your wife. You get out of the car, and you see a man covered in butter running out of your house.	[ "As I pulled into my driveway I noticed the house lights were on when I clearly remember turning them off before leaving. “Stay in the car Katie, I believe someone is in the house,” I said, reaching into the glove box and pulling out my service pistol.\n\nI turned the headlights off and inched my way to the door, weapon at the ready. I entered the house and began clearing the lower floor, room by room. As I passed the kitchen I noticed the refrigerator was open and the stove was hot. \n\nWhen the lower floor had been cleared, I made my way to the stairs to check the upper level. The bedrooms were empty, so the last place someone could be would be the bathroom. The door was closed, so I would have to be quick to catch the intruder off guard. I kicked the door down and burst through but there was no one inside. All I noticed was an empty pot and the bathtub had a small layer of congealed butter in it. I heard a noise behind me and was too slow. I felt a blow to the back of my head and was knocked out. \n\nWhen I came to, I was in the ER of the hospital. Katie and the doctor were in the room with me. “What happened,” I asked. “Just watched,” Katie responded, as she turned the volume on the television up. The headline line read, Man attacks homeowner, robs grocery of butter.\n", "I remembered pulling into the driveway, my wife was driving. I was pretty drunk but I was aware of my surroundings. The car door swung open and I managed to stumble out. My hand was shaky as I tried to unlock the door to my home. It took a few tries but I got it. Stepping inside, something immediately threw me off. The house stunk. I couldn’t quite pin what the smell was, but sure wasn’t good. The floor felt slippery, as did the door handle. \n\n\n“Honey, you smell that?” I turned to ask my wife but she was nowhere to be found and the door behind me was not shut. “What the hell?” I thought to myself as I continued to walk towards my bedroom. The closer I got to the room, the more intense the smell became. I walked down the dark hallway leading to my room. As I slowly crept down the hall, I heard footsteps stammering somewhere in the home. I assumed it was my wife coming in. Finally, I entered our bedroom. I was exhausted and collapsed onto my bed. \n\nMy eyes were focused on the ceiling but I couldn’t see anything due to lights being off. I felt relaxed even though I had no idea what was taking my wife so long. Suddenly, I felt a drip splash on my cheek. I rubbed the cheek and felt what had hit it. The substance was thick and barely felt like a liquid. “Must be another leak” I had thought to myself, brushing the concern off. A drip hit me again. “What the fuck?” I said as I angrily got out of bed. I headed for the light switch and flicked it on. There was nothing on the ceiling. Reluctantly, I turned the lights off again. Before I even reached the bed, I heard a drip. I pulled out my cellphone and clicked on the flashlight app. What happened next still confuses me to this day. \n\nThe ceiling was completely covered in butter. “WHAT….THE…..” Before I could finish, the phone flew out of my hand. I scrambled in the dark, desperately grabbing for it. The darkness had taken my vision, so I was hopelessly groping every object in sight. I felt my desk chair, my shoes, and knocked some books over. Suddenly I felt something, something I did not recognize. It felt like butter but it had a shape to it. The shape felt like a human body. I slowly groped my way up the strange object and found myself on my feet again. My face moved closer to the object. Standing in silence, I was terrified of whatever was in front of me. I felt a cold rush of air blow into my face. It was breathing on me. \n\nI turned and tried to sprint away but something grabbed my ankle. Desperately, I threw a weak punch at it and my hand went completely through it. I examined my hand, it was soaked in butter. “What are you?” I asked the creature. We scrambled and fought until I reached the light switch. My hand grabbed for it and flipped it on. Now I could see what I was fighting. \n\nIt had to be close to six feet tall and was way bigger than me. I was bewildered and stared at in awe. It looked just like a man, but completely covered in gooey butter. The long buttery arm of the man reached down and grabbed me by the throat. He lifted me high above him and then pulled me in close. He painfully opened his sticky mouth and let out with a deep booming voice this phrase: “Please….” I could feel butter slowly crawling up my arms, filling my chest, running down my legs. As I was being swallowed by butter, the butter was crawling off the man choking me. Slowly his face was revealed. He had long black hair, a bushy beard, and basically, looked just like any normal person. The butter had covered my whole body and was now approaching my neck. “Please… Stop…Don’t do this….” I pleaded to him but he wouldn’t stop. The warm butter had now taken over my neck and was spreading towards my mouth. I knew this was my last chance. “I’ll do anyth…..” and with that, my transition was complete. I was now the butter man. The previous man sprinted towards my window, shattered it, and ran out. My wife came running to the room, where had she been this whole time? “Jason…?” she asked as she entered the room. Lying before her was a man, a man completely covered in butter. There was only way for me to ever escape this. I grabbed my wife’s ankle and took her to the ground. My buttery arms formed a choke around her soft throat. My mouth slowly opened. \n\n \t\t\t\t\t“I’m sorry”.\n\n---------------------------------------------------------------------\n\n\n\nThis was my first ever attempt at writing from a story prompt. My writing skills are not the greatest but I hope you enjoyed! ", "As Mikael pulled into the driveway, Alice was feeling that mixture of peace and contentment that only a $50 steak and half a bottle of shiraz can bestow upon a person. Her thoughts turned to a night alone together and the simple joy inherent in the phrase \"the kids are at my mother's house\" when she saw something in the bay window and let out a yelp. \"Fuck Mike! There's someone in the house.\" \n\n\"Stay in the car\" he whispered softly but without fear. He squeezed her shoulder in reassurance and stepped out of the car with nothing but purpose and calm in his demeanor. Always the protector. God she loved him. That poise was broken though as the man inside the house finally noticed their presence and threw himself against the window. One hand lay flat on the glass along with his left cheek that he smashed against the surface. The other curved into an exaggerated crook that he used to beckon them inside. The better view thus afforded sent several thoughts in rapid succession though Alice's head, each pushing out the one before.\n\n\"I should have called the police thirty seconds ago.\"\n\n\"My God, is he naked?\"\n\n\"I really need to call the police right now.\"\n\n\"That trail he's leaving on the glass, is he covered in... butter?\"\n\nStill standing by the car, Mikael's expression went from shock to steadfast determination in between which, had she not known better, Alice would have sworn was a brief flash of elation. The man inside the house raced outside and across the lawn. With this burst of action, Alice reclaimed her wits and shouted to her husband \"Get back in the car. I'm calling the cops.\"\n\n\"No.\" \n\nThe firmness of his response stayed the hand that had been reaching for the phone in her purse. \"Why? What's happening?\" Despite herself, fear and confusion crept into her voice. \n\nAs the intruder ran in circles around their yard with his arms held out like the wings of an airplane, Mikael turned to her. \"There are obligations - no, duties to which a man commits Alice. Though others might find them inexplicable, even objectionable, a true man must steadfastly follow though. For in that contract, that pact between men, lies the underpinnings of all of society. I don't ask your understanding or even your forgiveness but only that you believe me when I say that I must now go. Happy anniversary.\"\n\nFinishing his speech, Mikael gave her the curt nod of a man going off to face his destiny and proceeded to race after the buttered man while stripping off his clothes and singing \"I'm a Little Teapot\" at the top of his lungs.\n\n\"Never marry a man you met at a fraternity party\" Alice muttered to herself as she slid into the driver's seat, backed the car down the drive, and started towards her mother's.", "As Sharon and I returned from lobsterfest it was safe to say we had our fill of butter. But apparently we were the minority in these troubled times. The majority of the population had succumb to reefer madness following the legalization of marijuana. I was never really sure about the finer points of the sickness, all I knew was that it had something to do with impurities of THC when dissolved in butter. Alas I digress. \n\nI opened the car door to be greeted by an unsettling sight. A naked man passed out on my front lawn. I told Sharon to go inside the house while I took care of him. \n\nI tried everything under my power to awaken him but nothing would work. The man appeared to be in a dubious mental state and I knew I had a civic duty to help this man in his time of need.\n\nI attempted to help the man into my car and get him to the hospital. This attempt proved unfruitful, his slippery skin caused him to fall on top of me. I promptly rolled him off of my body but it was too late, I had tasted it. My whole life flashed before my eyes, everything had changed as i thought \"I can't believe it's not butter. \"" ]	4
	[WP] Having just bought a new refrigerator your inner child gets the better of you. You climb into the box it came in only to discover it's a portal to another dimension! When you exit the box you find yourself in your own home....but....	[ "“Wha...what happened?\"\n\nJames sat up and strained his eyes to see. Something had knocked him out. The last thing he remembered was a white light and a throbbing pain in his head.\n\nHe untangled his legs and got on his knees, still unable to see. Why did he feel so strange? He remembered getting the new refrigerator his wife had wanted and bringing it home from the store. Something about the box it was in made him want to be near it...to touch it...to sit in it...\n\n\"James? James are you in here?” It was Sarah, his wife. “Why didn’t you finish setting up the fridge?\" \n\n\"I don’t know,\" James responded. \"I got knocked out somehow.\"\n\n\"James…are you inside of that box?\"\n\n\"Um...yeah. I guess I am. Help me get out.” \n\nSarah gently pushed one side of the tall box and lightly rested it on the ground so James could crawl out.\n\n\"I don’t know what happened,\" James said, crawling on all fours out of the opening. \"Its like I got sucked into another dimens—\"\n\nSuddenly Sarah screamed and jumped away. \n\n“James! What happened to you?”\n\nJames looked down at his hands. They were covered in hair. He felt his face and found even more hair and pointed ears on the top of his head. He stood up and realized with horror that he had something long and furry hanging off of him. He looked up at Sarah in shock.\n\n“James,” Sarah whispered with a quivering voice. “Why are you a cat?”\n", "Something isn’t right, I think. \n\nI step out of the box in the kitchen and look down to the floor. My sandals aren’t where I left them, by the side of the fridge. Addie must have gotten to them when I was inside. How long was I in there for? It couldn’t have been more than a few minutes. Oh, it doesn’t matter. \n\nI glance around the kitchen before making my way to the window, to see if Addie’s out in the backyard. Nope, no sight of her. It had just been overcast when I had taken my short trip. But now the sun is out. Living in New England, I’m used to such drastic weather changes, but I’d never seen anything like this in the span of a few minutes. Well, I’m not complaining. \n\nI take a seat by the counter, and start flipping through the mail. I hadn’t noticed that it had piled up so much. You know, I swear that there had only been a letter or two before… but now, there were probably a dozen.\n\nI can’t shake that feeling. You know how you sometimes walk in to a room that’s really familiar, but something is, just, off, but you’re not sure what it is? I’m not explaining this well… I guess it’s kind of like those spot the difference in these photos game. \n\nI hear some barking from the living room. Oh, Addie must’ve snuck in there! I whistle because I’m feeling too lazy to walk in there to get my sandals. I hear her panting and trotting to the kitchen. \n\nI nearly fall out of my seat. What, this isn’t Addie. This isn’t my dog. I look at this golden retriever standing there looking at me. It isn’t her. I mean, Addie is a golden retriever, but not this one. \n\nOkay, something’s wrong. I’m not sure what’s going on. Maybe sitting in the box for a bit did something to me, I don’t know, but…\n\nI’m not able to finish the thought, because at that moment, I look out the window, and actually do fall out of my seat. I see, me. At the foot of the driveway, opening the mailbox. \n\nI start to panic. Am I dreaming? Did I fall asleep in the box, somehow? I slap myself, but I’m not waking up. I’m not sure what to do. I raise my head to glance out the window again, to see if I’d just been hallucinating. But no, I’m still there, and now I’m walking towards the front door. \n\nThe other Addie starts barking.\n\nShould I stay here? No, I need to hide somewhere, maybe it’s just a friend playing a trick on me or something. Some really good make-up. But it can’t be, I know how I look like.\n\nI have a few seconds to decide, and look back, to the box. I’ll go in there again. I hear the front door open just as I slip into the box and shut the top. \n\nA few minutes go by, then some more. Maybe an hour. It’s too warm in here, so I decide to take my chances and step outside. I softly nudge the top open, and step out. \n\nMy jaw drops. \n" ]	2
	[WP] You are a supervillain who has successfully taken over the world. Now what?	[ "January 1st, 2062\n\nDear diary, today marks the first day of the first new calendar year with the whole planet under my rule. It's a good feeling.\n\nI know genocide is never pretty, and it doesn't look good on you CV, but it worked. Say what you like about mass slaughter but it gets your point across. The hardest part to it all was wiping out religion in one generation. That took a lot of work, cost me a small fortune in ammunition.\n\nI have to say that everything generally worked out for the best. Nobody's at war, nobody hates anyone else because of their skin, the space program has just announced the completion date for the prototype of an engine capable of super-luminal travel. Very exciting stuff, and it's all down to my thirty year campaign failing just before my lottery win twelve years ago.\n\nI know what they say about ends justifying means, but in this case I truly believe it's right. I had to kill those people. They made their choice. They could have lived in my new world instead of dying in their old one. Two billion people is a lot to have to cull, but it worked.\n\nI'll write again tomorrow, I have to go and meet the ambassador from America. I'm guessing they've got some complaints about the way I'm doing things. We'll see how that goes, shall we?", "Years and years of endless fighting. The earth, once a beautiful place, reduced to ruin. All for what? \n\nTarik stared out of what used to be New York. Total rule and power was his greatest ambition and here he was, ruler of all. He had won. He had destroyed everything the alliance threw at him. Was this what he wanted? \n\nOf course, but not like this.\nHis minion army and him, that's all that was left. No rebellion, no survivors. Nothing left. A result of the war that raged. He knew he wouldn't have total control unless he was all that was left. \nAnd here he was, he had done it. \nThis world of desolation was his. \n\nNow what? \nHe had to face the fear and the question that grew in his mind.\nWas this what he really wanted? \nThe Lord of nothing. Essentially, that's what he was now. Nothing. \nNo one to congratulate him, no one to serve him except his minions. His mind numb and witless minions. Incapable of self thought. They were an extension of him. That was all. The realization dawned on him and an overwhelming feeling of regret and sadness filled him. Emotions he shouldn't be allowed to feel. \n\nWhat now?\nNothing, that's what. \nIn the end, it seemed, the villain always lost.\n" ]	2
Truly meant to be fully. Are we really awake or are we in a dormant state?	[WP] You wake up randomly on a bench in the park with no recollection of how you got there, only to find a note that says to speak a certain phrase in the correct condition to truly awaken your true potential.	[ "\"Hey, man. I got the product. Hit me up 555-6195. Say the magic words, and it's yours.\"\n\nI read the note in my pocket as I came to. I had no memory of the previous night. I must have been on that good shit, because I felt no hangover, no comedown. I went to a payphone, stuck in my last few quarters.\n\n\"Hey, you got the stuff, man, or were you just fucking with me?\"\n\n\"I got the stuff. Where you at?\" His voice was gravelly.\n\n\"16th East and Westmore drive intersection. How much it gonna be? Shit, I'd sell my soul for a bump of that good shit one more time.\"\n\n\"Those are indeed the magic words.\"", "I stared up at the sun for a few moments. It was bright and hurt my eyes, but that was the least of my concern. What was more interesting to me were the tree branches partially blocking my view. You see, the last thing I could remember was getting a weird instant message on my PC while surfing the internet for more random porn images. Not your typical porn either; I had this fascination with anything animated. 2D, 3D, didn't matter so long as it wasn't real. So I'd been leafing through the latest big bosomed fox-girl website that had joined my ever growing collection (my friend had just introduced me to the concept of 'furry' that afternoon) with my right hand dragging meticulously through each glorified image while my other hand wandered off to do whatever it did that led to a more relaxed day, when suddenly a message popped on my screen. Now, normally I Would simply continue with my business until I was ready to deal with whoever dared intrude upon my private moments, but it dawned on me that I didn't have any messenger programs installed. Ignoring the implausible a virus infecting my poor little PC, I squinted to read the tiny print. This of course would be the last print I would read before I found myself on a park bench staring at the sky.\n\n\"Your Life Will Change\"\n\nThen the last two words slowly melted into something far more sinister.\n\n\"Your Life Will Begin Anew, Prepare Yourself.\"\n\n'I was already prepared, I bought a new box of Kleenex just this morning,' I thought to myself, when suddenly my entire body went rigid. Strange, that wasn't what normally happened when I hit my climax. A blinding blue light suddenly erupted from the screen, and the world went polka dot. Next thing I knew I was staring at the sky. I slowly lifted my hand to the sun, studying it carefully in disbelief. It seemed a lot less calloused than I remembered, and somehow a lot more feminine. I shut my eyes and lightly prodded my fingers against my chest, trying to figure it all out. That was when I realized a pair of lovely squishy bumps that hadn't been there before. Thinking that I might've just landed my first girlfriend, I jumped up, only to be disappointed by the stark realiziation that the owner of said softness was none other than myself, and this time it wasn't because I'd been up every night for the past four months eating Snickers and chocolate chip cookies to lull me into oblivious sleep.\n\nSitting atop my somewhat bountiful chest was a note that appeared to have been taped to it. I slowly peeled it off, wincing a little at the tender pain that trickles through my body. Obviously something had happened, and part of me was very excited about it. At least, it would have... had it still been there. I felt the blood drain from my face as two things rapidly became apparent, even before I started to read the note. First, I was no longer the pleasantly plump jovial guy with no friends that I had once been. Instead, in his place a voluptuous, extremely attractive young woman had been deceptively planted and no one had thought to inform me that this might happen. It was much to my chagrin to discover the extent of my change was quite absolute, and I whimpered at the prospect of having to sit down to take care of business from here on out. Second, the note that had been taped was written in the most incredible handwriting. It was overly ornate and highly artistic with far too many loops and curls to have been written in a haste. That meant my predicament was no mere accident or happenstance, which I had already figured when I realized my clothing was roughly the same yet tight fitting. \n\nI glared angrily at the note, flicking my now well-trimmed, red colored, and polished nails. Who would go through all this trouble of transmogrification, including adapting my clothes to fit my new body, and then just dump me cold in the middle of a park with a note? It was unthinkable, and I had half a mind to complain to the police. They could have at least had the decency to let me enjoy myself alone in my bedroom before tossing me out into public, after all!\n\nI read the note.\n\n\"When the time is right, you will know. The words to speak will be apparent, and you will become that which you were meant to be. You will awaken to your true potential. Three rules you must adhere to, lest the forces of the Dark learn your true potential. Rule #1: You must always keep what you are a secret. Rule #2: You must never intentionally harm another except as a measure of last defense. Rule #3: You must never let yourself be swayed by the Dark.\"\n\n\nWith a smirk I scrunched the note up and tossed it over my shoulder. That was a little more effort than I was used to, seeing as how it bounced off my now bountiful reddish locks that dropped down to my waist behind me. I groaned inwardly. Bathing was such a pain, which was why I did it only once a month, and yet now it appeared I'd have no option except to waste precious gaming time cleaning myself thoroughly on a daily basis. With a grumble, I hopped to my feet. At least, that was the plan; my arms flailed as my balance was completely lost on a pair of what I thought were stilts but were really high heels, and I found my face now planted firmly to the ground. As I rubbed my sore nose irritably, I saw the second note on the ground.\n\n\"Mind that first step, you may not be accustomed to your new outfit yet.\"\n\n'New... outfit?' I looked down at my clothes. More feminine, yes, but I hadn't counted on the high heels. Overall, the large black sweatshirt and the extremely skimpy jeans did show off my curves nicely. I took a moment to firmly embed the image in the back of my mind for later. That's when I realized there was a purple pendant that sparkled dangerously as it hung around my neck. Curious, I pricked it lightly with a finger and was startled by the rush of energy that flowed through it and, by incident, me. It felt as though I'd taken a long skinny dip in a hot tub, then jumped into a near-freezing pool. I jerked my hand away, as the pendant glowed, and then I felt something. Something horrible. Something terrifying that made my skin crawl. In the dark recesses of my mind, words were floating to the surface, and I cringed as they came into focus. Such a horrific phrase, I could never utter it even in my darkest hour.\n\nYet before I could stop myself, my lips parted curiously as the words leapt out into the air. Swiftly my body was picked up half a foot from the ground as something warm wrapped around my entire form. I was far too gone in the bliss, though - forget fapping to foxgirls, this was what a real orgasm felt like! I tried not to moan out loud as a rainbow of color shot out from my waist, like ribbons carelessly tossed around a festival until they suddenly entombed my whole body. Before I could gasp in surprise, I felt the warmth erupt, causing my back to arch as my clothing melted into some goo before reconstituting into the single most embarrassing experience I had ever experienced in my life. When I could finally open my eyes as the sensations faded, leaving me so invigorated I would have had a boner (a twinge of sadness!), I realized my horror had taken shape in the form of a pink miniskirt with a giant heart-shaped bow across my chest, frilly gloves and- well, I'm sure you've guessed by now. I instinctively tried to cover myself up, my face burning with the hate and embarrassment of every single guy who wishes he could be what I am now but is too self-conscious to admit it. \n\n\n\"Mommy! That girl over there just got naked!\" \n\nThe little boy was pointing and jumping excitedly from his picnic, where I suddenly realized several families were having a family reunion. The shock and awe in all of their faces made me a thousand times more self-conscious about my situation, and I ripped my high heels off to carry them as I marhced indignantly towards home. My words were more than just a little audible when several mothers covered their young one's ears, all glaring at me. I didn't care, the thought was now lodged in my head and wouldn't let go for the next several hours.\n\n\"...fucking magical girl bullshit....\"\n" ]	2
	[WP] You are earths favorite super hero. you have just murdered someone.	[ "I am Kal-El. The people of Earth call me Superman, but I find myself unable to face them. Part of me still can't believe that I did it, that I killed Lex Luthor in cold blood. Another part of me knows that he deserved to die, that the people would understand.\n\nFor now, meditation with my father's projection and my Fortress of Solitude. It's a damn good thing that no one can get in here, because I find myself needing to reflect on my actions.\n\nCan I live with the fact that I needed to kill him? That I completely enjoyed the look on his face as I choked the life from him? Only time will tell.", "With all my might, I slammed him through the walls. He fights back, screaming, and I deliver another blow, pushing him down the floor as we fall hard and fast. \nI am shaken, but not disoriented. He seems to have taken a lot more damage from it, than I did, yet it is not enough to knock him out - cold. \nHe thrashes around, and I struggle to keep him steady. \n\"Stay down, damn it!\" I curse him in my head. As if reading my mind, he answered defiantly by getting up on his feet. I lock my arms around his chest, minimizing his movements.\nThe place we landed into was in ruins. Debris were falling, and people were running about. Our quarrel has caused so much death and destruction. \nHe looks ahead. I followed his sight. Four people, huddle together at the corner of the building. What the hell are they still doing here? Idiots, run!\nI wrap my arm around his head in a rear naked choke hold, in an attempt to cut his air and make him pass out. His fingers pierced through my forearms, forcing me to keep my arms open, as he speaks.\n\"If you love... these people so much... you can mourn them!\"\nHis eyes glow bright red, and I knew what was going to happen next. \nI clutched him tighter as he fires his heat vision, searing the walls. The burning light slowly moves towards the people trapped in the corner.\n\"Don't do this!\" I pulled him closer, and with every ounce of strength in my body, I force him to look the other way and the divert the ray. My efforts were futile, and slowly the distance shortens.\n\"Don't!\"\nThe heat ray cuts through the walls. The people move to the far right, trying to avoid getting hit. They hold each other, sharing the small space. They scream for me to help them. \nMy muscle and sinew are losing strength. The heat ray moves closer, merely a few inches from them.\n\"Stop!\" I beg him. Please stop. \nAgain, he responded with defiance. \"Never.\"\nNever. He will never stop. For as long as he stands, he will forever be a threat to these people. I am left with only one option. Tears welled in my eyes, as I move my hands: With my one hand I hold his chin, with the other, I grip the top of his head.\nI close my eyes, and summoning what's left of my strength, I twist." ]	2
"Hi, Rob." "Hey, Clarice. How's your day been?" "Not too great. I didn't get much sleep last night." "Oh. Well, is there anything I can do for you?" "Yeah, I came by to ask you something." "What is it?" "Do you have any more of, you know, those little green things you had earlier?" "Green things? Oh! You mean the... Actually, I ran out of them." "Oh. Darn." "Sorry about that." "It's alright. But tell me when you have more, okay?" "Sure, alright." "Well, be seeing you." "Bye."	[WP] Turn this banal, everyday dialogue into something wonderful by adding narration.	[ "Clarice watches Rob enter the restaurant. They had been there so many times that they each knew the layout and décor like the back of their hands. It was at this restaurant that he first convinced her to participate in the experiment. \"Hi, Rob.\" Clarice says seductively with a red lipstick smile. Rob looks at her in amazement; it had been so long since he had lost her and now she had come to his dreams to find him. \"Hey, Clarice. How's your day been?\" he says just as usual. Her eyes widen when she hears his voice and she replies \"Not too great. I didn't get much sleep last night.\" Rob puts a sad smile on his face; it was difficult to joke with her even now. She was the perfect candidate for the experiment because of her sleeping problems and then she became addicted to it. “Oh. Well, is there anything I can do for you?\" he asks hoping she somehow knew about his recent pinkslip. She nods diligently and utters quietly \"Yeah, I came by to ask you something.\" He looks into her green eyes and asks, \"What is it?\"\n\n She smiles and her voice cracks as she replies, \"Do you have any more of, you know, those little green things you had earlier?\" Rob cocks his head in confusion and then sighs disappointedly. \"Green things? Oh! You mean the... Actually, I ran out of them.\" He says dejectedly. Green things was what she always called them. They were pills to help her wake up from the dream world. The original plan was that she would only sleep for a few days and then she would wake up and go on with her life. When she was ready to wake up, she would crush the green emerald in her hand and would snap out of her dream state. But after the very first treatment, she was addicted to the lucid dreaming. She demanded that he leave her sleep and snuck back into the dream state without an emerald. Whenever he looked for her, she would run away and hide, claiming that she wasn’t ready yet. He was never able to find her and now that his laboratory was raided, he would never have any emeralds again. He shakes his head sadly; she said ‘earlier’ when in reality it was three years ago that she got lost. Her smile fades and her eyes begin to water as she realizes it is too late.\n\n \"Oh. Darn.\" She says blankly. Rob begins to stutter out possibilities and then shakes his head hopelessly, \"Sorry about that.\" He says finally giving up. She smiles through tears and says, \"It's alright. But tell me when you have more, okay?\" She thinks of her five year old son’s face and hopes that he’s alright. Rob nods and says, \"Sure, alright.\" He didn’t have the heart to tell her that there was no hope. Clarice waves and then says, \"Well, be seeing you.\" Rob nods as she fades away into the air and then utters, \"Bye.\"", "\"Hi, Rob,\" her tone was cheerful. This annoyed him immediately, but he tried to remind himself that it shouldn’t. After all, she didn’t know.\n\n\"Hey, Clarice. How's your day been?\" He forced a friendly smile, his face tight. He told himself it was better this way, with her not knowing. She’d never set out to steal Alice from him, so there was no reason to hold it against her. He was certain that if he told her that it had been him, that he was that unfortunate ex-husband Rob, that she’d feel apologetic. Clarice was nice, after all. Of course she was, Alice always wished he was nicer.\n\n\"Not too great. I didn't get much sleep last night,\" Clarice answered. Rob was peeved by this, too. He wasn’t sure if this was because of the situation with Alice, or just because it was obnoxious when people replied in earnest instead of offering up what should have been one-word answers. A second too late, he gave a sympathetic nod.\n\n\"Oh. Well, is there anything I can do for you?\" He hoped for a no.\n\n\"Yeah, I came by to ask you something.\" But of course it was a yes.\n\n\"What is it?\" He realized too late that he was folding his arms and tried to give a smile that would be adequately polite.\n\n\"Do you have any more of, you know, those little green things you had earlier?\" Clarice gestured wildly with her hands as explanation. To Rob, it looked like she was alternating between trying to solve an invisible rubix cube and attempting to use it as a hammer. This already felt like too much effort to expend on his blindly home-wrecking coworker, so Rob decided to be vague and dismissive, as that usually worked at meetings.\n\n\"Green things? Oh! You mean the... Actually, I ran out of them.\" He shrugged, signaling that there was nothing more he could do.\n\n\"Oh. Darn.\" Clarice pursed her lips and looked down, probably trying to think of some replacement for whatever the green things had been. Mints? What else did he have that were green?\n\n\"Sorry about that,” he told her. If he were the nice man Alice wanted, he would have meant it, but instead he meant ‘please exit my office.’\n\n\"It's alright. But tell me when you have more, okay?\" She lingered in the doorframe, Rob stayed in his chair, making no movement to get up and see her out.\n\n\"Sure, alright.\" He shuffled some papers he’d already gone through to emphasis how busy he was.\n\n\"Well, be seeing you.\"\n\n\"Bye.\" Good riddance." ]	2
	[WP] A 12 year old boy is walking along a beach and discovers a magical lamp. He rubs it and a genie pops out. The genie explains that the boy gets three wishes. The boy's face lights up. Fade to black. Cut to, 30 years later. The boy is all grown up...	[ "Standing atop the world's largest building the new emperor of the world holds in his hand the tool which allowed him to amass such a powerful army. The symbol of the new nation, a golden lamp. \nAs the new ruler surveys his massive army stretching out in every direction he rubs the lamp.\nRumblings are heard from across the lands, all people of all nations gathered behind television screens and around radios. Stadiums are filled the world over as the common people watch what transpires.\n\n\"Your second wish?\" A disembodied voice echos through the minds of all the people watching and listening.\n\n\"My second wish is to wish for more wishes.\" Says the man.\n\n\"You cannot wish for more wishes\" rumbles the now materializing genie.\n\n\"Then for my second wish....I wish that I can wish for more wishes.\"\n\n\"Awwww shit.\" Says the genie.\n\n\"And for my third wish, I WISH FOR MORE WISHES MUAHAHHAA.\"", "30 years later...\n\nJim wakes up with a huge smile on his face. \n\nHe reaches over to the lamp by his side and rubs vigorously.\n\nSmoke slowly pours out of the lamp, and begins to take shape. The genie appears, rubs his eyes, yawns, and pops them open.\n\n\"Wait! You finally made up your mind?!\"\n\nJim nodded as he looked around his room. It was small, cramped, and dirty. But he finally knew.\n\n\"It's something I've always wanted. Something I knew would bring me happiness, even as a boy!\"\n\n\"Well what is it?! I've been waiting thirty years for this!\"\n\n\"I wish... For... A puppy!\"", "\"Hey mom, remember that time when we went to the beach on vacation? The one in France?\"\n\n\"Which time? We went twice, you know.\"\n\n\"The time I... made you that necklace. The first time. When you were...\"\n\n\"Oh! Yes... Right, you were just a little boy then! Twelve, was it?\"\n\nA slow, wistful smile.\n\n\"I wish we could go again.\"" ]	3
There are entirely too many posts about witches/warlocks/angels/demons/the devil/God/Jesus/aliens etc. on here. Write me something steampunk! I'd like it to be a story that's not really dystopian, but far in the future after our current civilization has crumbled. Have fun.	[WP] Write something steampunk.	[ "The following conversation takes place at Keenan & Son’s Workshop between Keenan Keenan IV and Keenan Keenan V. KKIV is working on a vehicle while KKV is walking into the back of the family’s workshop.\n\n___\n\nKKV: Hey Dad, can I talk to you?\n\nKKIV: Maybe. Did you fix the Jefferson’s Broiler?\n\nKKV: Yes. \n\nKKIV: Did you wash the countertops in the front of the shop?\n \nKKV: Yes Dad.\n\nKKIV: Did you pick up lunch?\n \nKKV: Yup.\n\nKKIV: What did you buy?\n\nKKV: I got sandwiches from Mary’s house.\n\nKKIV: Really? How is your sister doing?\n\nKKV: Dad, can we talk about something else.\n\nKKIV:* What else is there to talk about? All you do since you graduated is work with me in the shop. You don’t go out too much.\n\nKKV: I go out all the time. You are just to drunk to remember.\n\nKKIV: Hey! That isn’t any way for you to talk to your father.\n\nKKV: And you haven’t looked at me since I walked in. That isn’t any way to talk to your only son.\n\nKKIV: You know what? How about you just go home if you are going to be a smart ass.\n\nKKV: How about you listen to what I have to say for once!\n\nKKIV: What would have to say to me that is more important that me working?\n\nKKV: God dammit Dad! I am enlisting into the Zeppelin Corps!\n\nStartled, KKIV puts his tool’s down and slowly turns toward his son.\n\nKKIV: What did you just say?\n\nKKV: You heard me. I am enlisting into the Zeppelin Corps.\n\nKKIV: Son, you are just a boy, you have no reason to go off to war.\n\nKKV: Dad, you and I both know I am not a kid anymore. I graduated high school and have spent the last year since then working here like a dog. You went into the corps, and so did your father, his father, and his father. They all worked here and went into the corps. So why not me? \n\nKKIV: Son, I know we have a family history of going into the corps, but from one man who went through hell while I was in there, I want to tell you that it isn’t right for everyone.\n\nKKV: Why isn’t it right for me then?\n\nKKIV: Well, you are not a very active person.\n\nKKV: I ran track in high school.\n\nKKIV: Um, okay I guess that you are right on that one. How about the fact you are not a good shot?\n\nKKV: I can shoot better that you ever could.\n\nKKIV: You don’t have the discipline.\n\nKKV: You ran our family like a unit of soldiers, I think I can handle the corps.\n\nKKIV: Son, I want you to sit down in that chair in the corner. I need to explain some stuff to you.\n\nKKV walks over to the old chair in the corner. His father puts his gloves on the table and walks over to his son, standing in front of him like Goliath before David.\n\nKKIV:* I want to let you that it is hard for me to look at you. You are a spitting image of myself. You look exactly like I did before I went in, nearly 30 years ago now that I think about it. But the reason why it is hard for me to look at you in the eye is not because I only lost one of them in the war. No, it isn’t that. You were not gifted my eyes, you got your mothers. I tried keeping the family together after your mother died, but you and I can see how that turned up. Your sister Sue is in Jail and won’t be getting out until I am nothing but dirt, Mary is married to a dirtbag who spends every penny he gets his little hands on cheap scotch, and little Lin is buried six feet under right next to your mother. You however haven’t screwed up yet. You have a good head on your shoulders and a fit body to carry it. I don’t want to explain to your mother when I go why you went first. My father probably had to do it when all of my brothers died in the war besides me, and I do not have the strength to say those words to her. Do you understand? \n\nKKV: I understand Dad, but take a look around you. We are not getting enough customers to keep afloat. You know just as well as I do that Keenan & Son’s will have to close shop in the next year if things do not pick up fast. I need to see the world and learn what it means to be human, and being here in New Reading isn’t going to help. I like working here, but I have to do other things besides working in our shop before I can take if off your hands, if the bank doesn’t first.\n\nKKIV: Keenan, I understand. I do not condone your actions, but I am not going to stop you from enlisting, but make sure you do not come home in a coffin, alright?\n\nKKV: Alright. \n\nKKIV: Good. Now get out of here and lets’ go home. \n\nKKV: But Dad, it is noon. Shouldn’t you stay longer?\n\n**KKIV: I run the business, I can say when I want to take a day off when I want to, can’t I?!", "Admiral Hottenburg sat back in the large iron chair sitting on top of his flag ship's bridge. He looked out over the twenty men and women operating the control room of the massive air ship. He smiled at the percision of his crew, the way each of them worked as a small part of the whole. His eyes came to rest as they always seemed to on the curvy form of the ship's captain, the woman who had secretly been his lover over the past four months. He felt the edge of his lip curl up in a smile, as his hand came up and stroked his short beard and gave his mustache a twist. \n\nA startled cry broke out from a watch stander on the port side of the bridge, \"Captain, pirates, off our ten, just under the cloud cover!\"\n\nThe captain walked over and opened up her small hand held telescope and stared for a long moment, the only noise on the bridge the sound of the heavy machinery working. All hands seemed to hold their breath as the captain suddenly burst out, \"Admiral, it's a carrier. I think we finally found them.\"\n\n\"Excellent. Lets show the good professor what we think of his 'free sky' rebellion.\" The Admiral's voice making it obvious he thought little of the capabilities of the cloud covered ship. \n\nThe captain turned to her gunnery officer and yelled out, \"Port cannons ready to fire on my mark!\" She looked up at Admiral Hottenburg and gave him a suggestive wink.\n\nThe gunnery officer announced, \"Cannons two, four, eight, and ten ready to fire, ma'am!\"\n\nThe Admiral gave a nod. The captain responded by calling out, \"Fire!\"\n\nJust as the port cannons roared and the huge air ship gave a lurch the starboard watch stander called out with fear in his voice, \"Collision! Collision! Starboard side on our three!\"\n\nThe Admiral turned his head and saw what looked like a giant blade sliding out of a cloud, it was moving too fast for the large, heavily armoured airship to move. It all seemed to move in slow motion, he heard the captain yelling out an order to her helm, but he knew from experience it was a wasted breath. The giant blade soon became the shape of another air ship, something he had never seen before, it had no giant air bag holding it aloft, it was instead something like a sea going vessel, streaking through the sky at incredible speed.\n\nHe laughed and gave his mustache a twist as the giant air ship seemed to cry out in pain, the sound of iron twisting and breaking, the hiss of broken steam pipes, screams of burned crew members all coming at once. Then he started to feel his body grow light, he knew this feeling well, it meant they were starting to fall. He watched as his secret lover, the ship's captain Amelia Von Beale, lifted off the deck and floated for a moment with a pleading look on her pretty face, she reached her hand to him before disappearing as the starboard side of the bridge vanished taking most of the bridge's crew with it.\n\nThe Admiral felt himself float off his great iron chair, as if he were now able to fly. He smiled and gave a salute just as the world went black." ]	2
However, the process is temporarily disturbing and even painful to the subject. You have sworn to only help those who request it, and are clearly competent to understand the risks and costs. You have just broken that vow.	[WP] You are world-famous for your miraculous ability to quickly and completely heal the emotional pain of others...	[ "The red-haired mer-girl stumbled behind me on her knees. He long curls tangled as she tripped herself over them, mashing her hair into the concrete where it mixed with dirt and cigarette butts, and dabbed against the scrapes on her knees.\n\nI tried my best to ignore her. Though she made quite the scene with her whimpery, desperate begging, she looked human enough on land that most people might take her for an unhinged homeless woman. With the state she was in right now, it was hard not to.\n\nAside from the impossibly long hair, her accent was the only thing that gave her true origin away. \"Please, Lyrebird,\" she begged, her voice thick with the spray of the ocean. \"I know you are blessed the power of the mind. It was a gift you were meant to find.\" The words rushed into my ears like the tide, crashing against the levee I'd raised in my mind to block out her pleas. I stopped walking abruptly, and the mer-girl fell into my backside. She quickly righted herself, climbing shakily up on two legs. The concrete left imprints in her sickly-green skin.\n\nI gripped her forearm to steady her. \"You don't want this. It's not what you think.\" Images of others like her flashed before my eyes--Weres, Banshees, even the occasional full-blooded human who knew the secrets of our world. They all wanted the same thing, and I always regretted it--though they could not.\n\nTears sprang to her eyes. Though she only looked like a young teenager, the girl was likely centuries old. She'd seen civilizations rise and fall, all the time retaining the innocent mind of a child. It was when that mind finally reached maturity that many merfolk lost their will to remember. \"I need this.\"\n\nI knew what would happen. I knew I would regret it. But like every time before, I relented. I took the girl's fragile, trembling hands in my own, and caught her golden gaze. \"I'm sorry,\" I murmured.\n\nThe mer-girl closed her eyes. For a moment, she seemed only to be sleeping--the picture of serenity. Then, her eyes opened. Deep green irises blinked back at me, and a hesitant smile thinned her pink lips.\n\n\"I'm sorry... do I know you?\"\n\nI shook my head. \"No, sorry. You just stumbled for a second. Just wanted to make sure you're alright.\"\n\n\"Oh... I think I'm fine.\" I dropped her pink, human hands.\n\n\"Yeah, I guess so.\"", "Jack was the man to see. Jack with the steady hand, the open heart and the cool demeanor. Everyone said that he was the best, and he was, he was the only for that matter. Jack was the only one with the power to erase the heartache of others, a power that made him rich and famous. \n\nOprah featured him on her show a couple times, sometimes to heal the pain of a widowed army wife, sometimes the parents of children lost unfairly and too young, sometimes the children suddenly and violently turned orphans. Everyone agreed, Jack was a good man. He never even charged for his services, but donations and gratitude gave him everything he would ever need.\n\nThe Presidents of a dozen nations called on him from time to time in their hour of need. Bankers, Execs, moguls and potentates kept him on speed-dial should they ever need. He was even known to wander the streets from time to time and help the homeless and downtrodden. They even ran a story once about how he healed a mugger who attacked him of his depression and rage from his mothers passing and how the mugger was now a Priest!\n\nThe doorbell rang, Jack's next appointment was here.\n\nThe man at the door was gripping his jacket tightly, ruining the expensive material with the torsion of his hands, the rest of his suit wrinkled beaten.\n\n\"Come in, come in!\" Jack beckoned to the man, showing him to a large comfortable chair in his meeting room. The man sat down and tried to keep from sobbing any further.\n\n\"Tell me about her.\" Jack said, calmly, face like stone but voice a warm embrace.\n\n\"She was beautiful,\" the man started, between silent tears, \"She had a voice that wasn't like a angel, but damn if it wasn't close. She would sing while she worked, all these old hymns from her childhood. And she could bake like you wouldn't believe. That's what made me ask her out that first time, she was having a bake sale at her church and the smell of the brownies was too good to pass up. I tried the first one without much thought, but she started talking to me when I bought the other fifty-nine.\" The man laughed.\n\n\"Go on, please, I would like to hear more about her.\" Jack replied, urging the man on\n\n\"She had this wavy blonde hair, like straw, that never stayed where she wanted it to, always a few sticking up at weird angles. And she always sunburned the first time at the beach, but every time after that would get this lovely olive tan that was impossible to resist. She was a caring woman, more than I deserved, but she never made me feel like that. I always felt safe, always like I was at home with her, in her arms.\" The man was still crying now, but the tears weren't as constant, weren't as forceful.\n\n\"She always knew what to give you as a gift. I remember, back when we were still dating, we spent a whole weekend playing old games on a buddies sixty-four and then on my birthday she not only managed to track down the a see-through version of the system like I had when I was a kid, but damn near every game that was made! I'll admit it, I cried when I opened that. That was the moment I knew I loved her, knew I had to be with her forever.\" The man sighed and wiped the tears away with the back of his hand.\n\nJack was beginning to tear up now, but he hid it well behind the stone wall that was his face, \"And then what happened?\" He prodded.\n\nThe man looked down at the floor, his hands cupped between his legs. \"I screwed up.\"\n\nThey sat in silence for a few moments, the man not sighing to himself and Jack staring, already knowing the ending.\n\nThe man sighed harshly one last time before continuing, \"We went out drinking, celebrating, I just got a promotion. I should have called a cab, she even offered to be the designated driver, but I insisted she share a drink with me. We had just gotten engaged a few months ago, she was neck deep in papers and reservations and appointments with caterers that I figured she should get a night of fun too. I was too tipsy to see the edge of the road, I never felt the car leave the pavement, at least she never felt the tree we hit.\"\n\nThe man exhaled slowly, his eyes red but dry. He stood up slowly, as if testing his ability to stand. \"Thank you sir, I never thought I would live again, the light of my world had gone out. Thank you for giving me that back, she wouldn't have wanted me to waste away in grief.\" The man stuck out his hand for Jack who managed to grip it, albeit somewhat shakily. Jack nodded, and with his head hung low, guided the man to the front door and out in to the night.\n\nJack closed the door and pressed his head against it, sobbing. God how he missed her, the smell of her baking, the little tune she hummed as she worked and way her hips swayed just that devilish way they did when she wanted to move off to the bedroom. He missed her with all his soul and in pained him to know that she had been buried just hours ago. He missed her, just like he missed the girl before, and the child before that and the soldiers, husbands, wives, sons, daughters, grandparents, friends and public figures. He missed them more and more as their friends and loved ones missed them less with his help. \n\nHe looked in the mirror and saw his face, stained with burning tears from bloodshot eyes. He looked in the mirror and saw each one of their faces, one by one, smiling, longing as he opened his mouth in a silent wail\n\nHe saw them all, every one, as the bullet passed through the back of his head.", "Many have asked for my kiss,\nMany souls have I liberated.\n\nToo weary of life and it's deceptions,\nToo tired of suffocating on a mask.\n\nI was their merciful release,\nI was their return to innocence.\n\nMetallic Savior, Tongue-less Justicar\n\nAll they had to do was pull the trigger.\n\n/r/PsychoWritingPrompts" ]	3
	[WP] Write a short story about the ocean without using the letter "e".	[ "Salt was in his blood -- and not just that 0.4% statistic that doctors throw around. His dad had caught Arctic fish, Atlantic fish, Indian fish, Pacific fish -- any kind of fish you want, his dad would drag it up with his rod. So it was also with his dad, and so on again -- an attraction to Gaia's liquid parts which ran back, possibly, to humanity's first formation in primordial soup. Fish was his family's only foodstuff, throughout all his childhood -- mountains of cod, haddock, trout and on lucky days, tuna. From infancy, a rod was in his one hand, bait in his other; at six, a trip on a whaling ship for four months was his 'school's out!' holiday.\n\nBut a quandry was upon him. At thirty, without any prior warning, John (as is his alias in this writing) was struck by a pathological horror, of salt. In food? No. In his own body? No. But in a body of liquid? God, just thinking about it brought on chills! Now, any dollar-shop psychologist (and John himself) can posit that salt was just a proxy: a sympton of a background phobia. But why? That's what John didn't know.\n\nHoping that continual proximity to his horror would impair it, John ran away from his family to sign up with a local fishing ship. Trying to stamp out his phobia, but in truth only cultivating it -- how tragic. For it was but a day or so following this that John, mad out of his mind, saught annihilation through drowning. John swims still, though his body is cold and without motion. Fish swarm around him to this day, gazing at this oddity, this icon of an unknown moral. ", "Hey, just so you know for the future, prompts that place a restriction such as \"don't use the letter e\" or \"make a story entirely out of questions\" fall under the category of constrained writing. It looks like another mod has changed the flair appropriately. For more info, check out the descriptions of prompt types in our sidebar.", "Lapping, swaying, a liquid navy mass hugs and holds islands and ground all around. A sandy bottom, that is, until no sloping bottom to look at within it. It is a root for our astral orb’s mystical glow. \n\nNo sympathy and pity for ships upon it. Wind and draft bat at buoyant toy capacity crafts. Slick rain and hard rain, clamp down, nail down, wait it out. Tip and turn, lash out and in, going down. Captain barks commands, cold abounds and slows us to a snails way.\n\n My downfall is into that constant and continual catalyst. I am without air, turning and rout, my lungs burn, I am losing, vision blurs, conscious not at all.\n\nDark-black.\n\nVomit.\n\nVomit on sand, stuck in muck and mud. Crawl up and avoid pain and discomfort.\n\nFight. \n\nSurvival of a man, ship lost and almost crazy. \n\nManic, but moving, good mind to catch and spy washing in on an influx of junk, dross and crap, is a box.\n\nBox is full of rum jars.\n\nHappy man drinks to oblivion.\n", "Childhood. My sight missing. Why do I sit at this spot day by day? Why do I find its sound soothing and calming? I don't know, I just do.\nTry as you can to grasp its might, but you can't. I can't fathom how vast, how grand it all truly is. It was hard to grow up in this way. But this was a fantastic way of watching my days pass by. I am only a plain man, that I know. But I was taught many things. Surfing, swimming, such blissful comforts. Mankind, birds, land, air,... I am thankful for how abundant it all is. This opportunity to talk with you is what I will always think of as a gift. Thank you for your company. Thank you for saving my soul. Thank you, for without you I am nothing.", "I know you. You, for a bit, you found a low, a high, a trough. You found a loss. No starfish. No dolphins. No sharks. Only oil. Only fish that will survive a mighty, mighty wave amass with black, black goo. And now you wait. To find a right again. And as a moon put a waxing gibbous across a faint sky, looking to high-built building and new moon liaisons, I am curious how nibbling fish will find a way. But I know you. You will go high. Your opportunity is nigh. Your starfish will forward all rights of passing to a dark moon. Your dolphins will jump toward a sky in a cloak of dark maroon. Your sharks will swim in a school making sounds of joy and not knowing a true root of your proximity to a monstrous and god-having man.\n\nEdit: an e, this is difficult", "\"Mommy, what's that?\" \n\n\"Liquid.\"\n\n\"What's it do?\"\n\n\"It rolls back and forth, up and down.\"\n\n\"Can I drink it?\"\n\n\"No, it's salty. You musn't drink it.\"\n\n\"Oh. What can I do with it?\"\n\n\"You can swim in it. Or fill pails with it to assist with building sand art.\"\n\n\"Cool! It's good to look at.\"\n\n\"I know it is, Son.\"*" ]	6
	[WP] All of earth's species (animals, insects) have decided Humans are a threat, and to eliminate them by force. The war is over, they lost.	[ "Commander Fitzgerald thrust her sword down into the small creature before her, stumbling from this last bit of exertion. Slowly, she stabilized herself against it, pushing back to her feet.\n\n\"... are you.. sure...\" she gasped, looking around wildly, \"... that... was the... last one?\"\n\n\"Yes, Commander.\" the young man behind her brushed an errant hair away impatiently, staring intently at the small device in his hand. \"According to HAIST, that one was the last of the semi-sents.\"\n\nShe grabbed impatiently for the Hostile Animal / Insect Sentience Tracker, wanting to confirm for herself. It showed two blue blips clustered around a red blip, massive numbers of grey blips scattered around, and one other blue blip in the distance. She frowned. Red blips meant sentient animals, the enemy. Even one was too dangerous.\n\n\"According to this, the semi-sent is still alive.\" She loomed over it furiously, reaching to pull her sword out and finish the job.\n\n\"No, Commander, it just hasn't updated yet. Give it... there we go.\" A cursory glance showed that the red dot had faded to a grey blip, and she relaxed. \"Last one.\"\n\n\"How long until HQ confirms?\"\n\n\"Shouldn't be more than an hour, unless they've found something.\" The man sighed, brushing again at the wandering hair. \"I doubt it, though. Congratulations, Fritz. We've killed the bastards.\"\n\n\"Fitzgerald.\"\n\n\"Hm?\"\n\n\"Don't call me Fritz.\" She tapped her sword pointedly, and his hand instinctively drifted towards the sidearm at his side. \"And I'm pretty sure at this range I can cut you down before you draw, Riley.\"\n\nHe looked down, startled at his automatic movement. \"Well...\" he hesitated, \"... it ain't fair that you're calling me Riley when I have to call you Commander Fitzgerald, you know. I have a last name.\"\n\nShe smiled, then frowned at the unexpectedness of it, then tentatively smiled again. Hell, the mutants were dead, she could afford to loosen up a little.\n\n\"Fine, Private. What's your last name?\"\n\nHe drew himself up proudly. \"Tucker.\"\n\nShe surprised herself further by bursting into laughter, one hand flying to her mouth to cover it. She caught a whiff of the stench of gore, however, and lowered it again... for some reason, this made her laugh even harder. Riley tried to maintain a poker face, then an affronted face, then finally joined her in laughing.\n\n\"I am not calling you a Private Tucker!\", she groaned out during a brief lapse.\n\n\"Then I'm calling you Fritz. Fair is fair.\"\n\nShe pondered as the giggles wore down, finally decided to concede. \" Melissa, then.\"\n\n\"You can't call me Melissa, either.\"\n\n\"No. You may call me Melissa, Riley.\"\n\n\"Alright then.\" He smiled warmly at her, and for a few moments they both let their guards down completely. Finally, she turned away to look off into the forest.\n\n\"So, \" she began, \"we've killed all the mutants, humanity was only reduced to 5% population, miraculously of which civilian casualties were only 45%, and we're eighteen miles away from the nearest thing even resembling a military base.\"\n\nShe gestured pointedly off into the distance, where the other blue blip - Lieutenant Coldridge - was waiting. \"Why are we discussing the now nonexistent military's now pointless protocol when we could be heading home?\"\n\nHe grinned, brushing away the hair again. \"Well, I do recall someone telling me just yesterday that I was overdue for a haircut, out of regs and all that, but I'll forget you said anything if you allow me the privilege of walking you home.\"\n\nShe punched him in the arm, grinning back. \"You're still overdue, shaggy. Where do you get off calling me Fritz, anyway, Mr. Hairday From Hell?\"\n\nThey began the long walk back to Frontbase IV, ears attentive to any disturbances and Riley carefully monitoring the HAIST, but then as it sank in that the semi-sents were finally gone, they began to relax their posture. Riley even snaked an arm around Melissa's waist, and they walked together like that for the first three miles.\n\n\"You know, Riley,\" Melissa began, grateful that her emerging blush was hidden under several layers of filth and gore, \"I haven't run the numbers yet, but 2 out of half of 5% is pretty close to 'last military man and woman on earth' territory. Do you think...\"\n\nHe stopped suddenly, releasing his grip on her waist and stepping away quickly.\n\n\"Well, I guess I'll take that as a...\"\n\n\"Shut up.\"\n\nShe snapped her head around, her anticipated fury dissipating at the ghostlike look on his face. He was clutching the device in his trembling hand.\n\n\"What is it?\"\n\n\"No, be quiet. This can't... need to think... must be a glitch...\"\n\nShe stalked over, ripping the device from his hand, and dropped it immediately.\n\nAll red.\n\n\"What the fuck, Riley, where did they all come from?\" She unsheathed her sword, spinning in a circle, accidentally stepping on the HAIST. She heard a small crunch from it.\n\n\"Where are they?\"\n\n\"... got to be a glitch, there can't be that many left, and even if there were, they can't all be in one...\"\n\n\"Riley, I need a spotter. Look at me, damn it.\"\n\nHe looked up, blankly. \"Uh... right, of course, but that's the thing, I don't...\" He spun around as well. \"I don't see anything either.\"\n\n\"Then it was a false alarm.\"\n\nAs if to reassure her that her optimism was false, a low, growling moan began, surrounding them on all sides. Riley squealed.\n\n\"That wasn't any animal I've ever heard, Riley.\"\n\nHe spun around, fear making him angrily sarcastic. \"Oh, it wasn't an animal? Then what was it, Fritz? We're in the middle of a big freakin' forest, do you think maybe it was just the trees making that sound? Just a big damn gust of wind from all directions at the same time?\"\n\n\"Listen, I'm freaking out too, but don't get smart with me, asshole. Of course it wasn't...\"\n\nThe sound again, only much closer. Overhead. Both of them whipped their heads towards the source, staring desperately at the branch above them, trying to see through the foliage and catch a glimpse of the murderous animal hiding behind it.\n\nThe branch began to dip, as though a heavy weight were sitting on it, and the moaning came again, louder. Right from the branch. She wondered, is it invisible?\n\nThe branch touched the ground mere feet from her, and she experimentally swung her sword at the air over it. Nothing.\n\nNothing except the branch... which twitched, and slowly began to slide towards them.\n\n\"... just the trees?\" Melissa finished. \"Oh, God...\"\n\n---\n\nWe won the first war.\n\nWe lost the second war." ]	1
	[WP] Create a unique villain	[ "The light from the campfire shone on his face as he stepped closer. His skin was a sickly yellow and his smile was full of crooked, jagged teeth. His head had six horns protruding from it, each one a slightly different length. As he walked towards them, his hellish figure became more and more visible. He was wearing a cape of deep purple and a black vest that fit snugly over his muscular chest. His hair dangled low. It was long and greasy, distgustingly unkempt. He stood seven feet high and was getting closer by the second. They turned to run, but it was too late. The thumping of the large black boots was upon them. The fury in its crimson eyes pierced through the men at the campfire. They were frozen with fear as he reached back for his sledgehammer...", "It was the last straw. Failing to talk herself out of it Susan slipped what remained of the substance into Jeremys thermos. She'd walked through the moral dilemna of taking retribution time and again and always found her empathy wanting. Jeremy deserved nothing more than the harshest of punishments for the crimes he'd commited. \"Nice sweater, Looks great on you, One in a million ...\" the words paraded about in her head as if they'd been spoken yesterday. The sting of their utterance would not easily wash off. Yet Jeremy whipped them at her daily, from the moment he walked into the room until he took his final stride out of her door, he constantly tormented her. Always beating her down with his angry blue eyes and cold humorless smirk, it was all too much. Today she would get her retribution and the world would see that she was not to be crossed. \n\nHe walked into the classroom with his head held high, same as every other day .... his Ninja Turtle T-Shirt proudly drapped over his tiny chest. \"Morning Ms. S, I brought you an Apple if tha's okay? I love your glasses\"\n\n\"Of course\" she thought, \"you just had to get one more dig in before meeting your maker\". Jeremy plopped down on his desk eliciting a few chuckles from his nearby classmates while Susan wrapped her ruler on her worn desk. \n\n\"Settle down everyone, today we're going to learn about take-a-ways and adding, have any of you ever heard about math before?\" Of course ...... his hand would pop right up ...... \"Not for long\" Susan thought ... \"not for long\"", "Flyman had the worst super villain name in the world, but he didn't care. Hell, for all he knew, people could call him \"hello kitty\". That didn't make him less dangerous.\n\nThe thing is that now he was holding the world's most powerful nation as a hostage. Of course, killing everyone in there wouldn't make him the leader, but it didn't matter. If he couldn't have it, nobody would. And people tended to value their lives a lot, so they gladly give up their freedom in exchange of their life. Even if they were actually giving up their ownership of their lives together with their freedom.\n\nFloating in upper atmosphere, he admired the view. He flew back down towards the ground. Those were his only powers: flight and resistance to anything but holy water. But he always made sure not to target a church.\n\nHe smiled at himself, for with those two powers he had managed to destroy a big enough part of Russia, together with Helsinki, Estonia, Latvia, Belarus and half of Ukraine. The US had surrendered almost immediately.\n\nHe had only had to accelerate to a significant fraction of light speed and then be done with it. He had the world as his hostage.", "Kyle dropped his suitcase onto his desk, “I fucking hate this job.” He carelessly broadcasted to the two men in his company. His clients. They were obviously here for a loan. They showed all the signs. The man on the left had an uneasy smile as he tried to sympathize. “It-It’s not that bad! You get to share wealth.” His company had laughed along, trying to make an awkward situation better but just making it more uneasy. “So you’re here for money, right? Gonna start a business or some shit?” He nonchalantly questioned. The two men nodded, looking around to see the very professional office not fitting for this… joker. Kyle lifted his legs and leaned backwards, placing his feet up onto his workspace. “So you’re gonna get the money, however much you want. As long as you pay the bank back I don’t give a shit. But just so you know, the bank has a serious method of dealing with debt. Some people have gotten their lives ruined over two grand.” The men cheered together before talking between each other. Kyle wrote some things into a form and handed them the papers. He didn’t care; he was more worried about the person who had been trying to kill him for the past three weeks; ever since he got this job, actually. The two men held their hands out, the greedy shits. Kyle places the paper into one of their hands and waved his. “Get out.” They happily obliged, cheering over the paper that held their fortune. His eyes closed and he breathed quietly for a few seconds. And he dozed off.\n \nKyle’s phone rang and he came to, quickly landing his feet on the ground; and answering the phone. “Hello? Who is this?” Completely disregarding the standard introduction he was meant to recite when answering his calls. There was heavy breathing on the other end, “IRS. 165 Hallager Lane.” Kyle quickly slammed the phone onto the desk, and then lifted it, and did it again. He did that until the phone smashed into pieces. “I am done.” He stood up, and pushed through one of the office workers that opened his door to find out what the banging was. He understood what the voice wanted; the voice had explained and explained what he had to do. And he was going to do it, because he was going insane. The voice had to be trying to kill him. To fucking pester him to death, he couldn’t focus on anything. The letters and numbers chanted through his head all through the day. “I..R..S.. 165… Hallager… Lane…” Repeated in his head for days at a time. He got into his car and drove off, typing the address into his GPS. He turned onto the street, finding the small bungalow style house covered by the shade of a large oak tree in the front yard. Kyle opened the door, popped open his truck and took out a baseball bat. The slamming of the trunk echoed through the street, and a car drove past him quickly down the street. As he approached the door some movement in the house caught his eye. He saw a small kitten sitting against the windowsill on the inside. Kyle knocked quietly. A small timid old woman pulled open the door, smiling sweetly. “Yes, Dear?” Kyle swung hard, and the woman went down. He kept swinging until she wasn’t a body anymore. A phone rang. Kyle ran to it, it had to be the voice. It had to be done with him. “Welcome to the IRS.”\n" ]	4
	[WP] You are a painter, and each time you go to sleep you wake up in your most recent painting.	[ "\"Lucas, what are you doing in here?\"\n\n\"Get out!\"\n\n\"Is... is that...\"\n\n\"It's nothing, mom. It's nothing, don't bother with it.\"\n\n\"That didn't look like nothing to me. Lucas... are people on the Internet making you do this?\"\n\n\"What?! N-... Seriously, just stop, I don't want to talk about this.\"\n\n\"Lucas, I'm worried about you. I think you should stay off of DVN-art.\"\n\n\"That's not what it's c- Look, would you please leave?\"\n\n\"I'm just looking out for you. I don't want my baby boy turning into anything bad. I just think this could be the start of a bad path for you. I mean, one day you're drawing an or-\"\n\n\"Get out!\"\n\n\"Okay, okay. We'll talk about this later.\"\n\nShe left. \n\nLucas, with a headache, finished his work and took a nap.", "I used to enjoy my artwork, my life, before two things happened to me. First was the fame. I don't mean to sound ungrateful, I actually continued to enjoy both my work and my life after I gained some notoriety in the community... Definitely after I got some cash. The commissions were nothing too crazy, varying subjects, vaguely surreal portraits were my specialty and they were a lucrative niche at the moment. People loved the macabre, the strange. It was great. Then, the accident.\n\nI've tried painting other things. I paint landscapes, peaceful lakes with rustic cabins and happy pine trees. Those are lovely, relaxing vacations. I paint sumptuous ancient Greek feasts, beautiful men and women lounging on cushions eating grapes. Those nights, the moment my eyes close and I cross over, I awake with a smile. My senses tingle in the mountain air, or the caress of soft skin makes for a very entertaining evening.\n\nIt's when I have a deadline that things begin to get... ugly. I drink to sleep, wash down ten milligrams of melatonin with gin, sometimes Ativan, hoping something will keep it at bay for that night. I try painting or sketching a doodle, but it never works. I've realized it has to be on canvas, it has to be an actual work, or I won't wake up there.\n\nLast night, I woke to the sound of giggling and the smell of blood and sweat. I spent the next six hours running frantically through a maze of dolls' heads and dodging the teeth of an overgrown pet. Eventually, the little girl whose portrait I'd painted had invited me to tea, but I'd had only a short reprieve before the hunt resumed.\n\nMy clients remark that I look refreshed and excited at the beginning of my work, though a little wary, and absolutely wrecked when I finish a piece. I tell them it's the process. This morning, as I drag myself from bed, I can still smell the Earl Grey and dried blood as I brew my coffee. I hope I finish the portrait today so I can start my next landscape. I can't take another night of the chase.", "He was renowned for his surreal landscapes. Each of them seemed to possess a story-telling dynamic that is difficult for the landscape artist to capture. Every world he painted seemed well-travelled, well framed, lit with eerie dreamlike incandescence. He was by far my favorite client. I gave him free license to paint whatever he wanted because I have always trusted genius, even or especially mad genius. I don't think he would have allowed me to sell his paintings if I had not always given him free reign. \n\nWhen he began painting nudes I welcomed the departure. They all ended up being the same woman though, and I couldn't see how I was going to sell the same painting over and over. When I visited one afternoon I could see that it was all he was painting, and without broaching the subject too much I could sense that this woman was all he was willing to paint. I did not want to sound demanding. Treading lightly, I asked him who the model was. I told him she was very pretty. He avoided the question, and seemed to be growing agitated, I am used to this behavior from artists. I left so as to not overstay my welcome.\n\nSometimes I would drive by the house to sort of check on him but I didn't know what exactly I was checking for. I guess I would find it reassuring to see the light on in his studio. For selfish reasons, I felt better knowing he was at least working. Hopefully not another nude. I would think, maybe I'll call him tomorrow. I won't even ask to see new work I'll just call and ask if I can come over. I know he won't let me in if I don't call ahead.\n\nAnyway I was driving by one night and that's when I saw her. It was unmistakable. I had seen her countless times before. Never with clothes on though. I parked my car and got out to talk to her. I was surprised to learn she was his neighbor. I asked if there was any more to the relationship. She said they had been friends. She had been intrigued by his work. He offered to paint her for free. He gave her the painting but she had since thrown it away. He started making advances. He started waiting by her door when she would come home from work. She told me it started to be too much. She would be moving that next day.\n\nWhen I got home that night I was surprised to hear a message from him on my machine. He said he had seen me earlier that night. He said he would not allow me to sell his paintings anymore. I tried to call him back but there was no answer. I decided to visit the next day.\n\nThe inside of his home was more of a mess than usual. I found him on the bed. His body was cold. They told me it was asphyxiation. Which is curious because on the easel there was a still life, the first one I'd ever seen from him, it was a noose." ]	3
Show, don't tell.	[WP] Take a walk. Describe it to us.	[ "I tried. If it's too boring, tell me!\n\nThe cat is meowing and scratching at the door again, and the time is nearing 20:40, so it was about time to walk her again. There was no helping it, she would be intolerable for hours if I didn't walk her, so I might as well close the laptop lid and have a break for thirty minutes or so.\n\nThe cat's leash is black, but the actual rewinder-thingie is blue. As soon as she sees it - she knows that we're going out!\n\nNow - the leash itself won't actually keep her from escaping, that's not what its for. It's loose enough for her to remove by simply backing out of it. It's there for me to tell her where I am and where we can and can't go.\n\nI open the door and she slithers through the opening as soon as its wide enough. She runs out as though someone was chasing her but then comes to an abrupt halt in front of a flower and stops to sniff it. \n\nI take this opportunity to put the leash on her. She sits down and starts sniffing the grass all around her.\n\nI smell the scent of mown grass, but it's faded, the grass on the edge of the sidewalk looks dry, clearly this was done early in the morning. \n\nThe cat tugs at the leash to get me going, since I was spacing out, and we start moving to the right of the house. \n\nThe neighbours have a thing going with fancy shrubbery and a tree that has small, yellow berries growing on it. A bird is sitting in the tree and I try to point it out to the cat, but cats never look at where you point goddamn it, so she completely fails to notice the bird sitting literally five feet away. \n\nBut that's alright. Under one of the bushes in the neightbour's front lawn was a hedgehog. Both myself and the cat get cautionsly curious.\n\nI am worried that the cat will run and try to eat the hedgehog, the cat is probably planning an attack against this fortified hamster.\n\nThe hedgehog spots us and does a double-take. He drops the small leaf he had been chewing on and we exchange a moment. Then he tries to resume his, seemingly, nightly routine of scavanging the bushes for food, as nonchalantly as possible. But he's keeping an eye on the cat, and the cat's eyes never left the hedgehog.\n\nI feel bad that I didn't bring any catfood since I heard that hedgehogs dig that kind of grub. Maybe next time. \n\nA cyclist passes by, seeing me with the cat but missing the hedgehog since it's kinda dark by now. The cat hears the cyclist and looks around in alarm. She always does this, she never seems to get used to other people co-existing along side us.\n\nThe hedgehog takes this opportunity to move forward, away from us and our house. Now only the cat can see the hedgehog, since it's gone too far into the bushes for me to see him. But I trust the cat not to run into the bushes. We've had accidents before and lessons had been learned that day.\n\nSlowly, slowly the hedgehog walks under the bushes until finally reaching the sidewalk at the end of the neighbour's house, on its left side. It stops and thinks to itself, then dashes out into the road to cross it, taking shelter under the first car it reaches.\n\nAcross the road is a park, it's a small park with a few benches, a swing and some flowers, but a park nonetheless. The cat follows the hedgehog's every step, keeping about three feet away at any given time, and I stay away from the cat at maximum leash potential. It feels carefully coordinated, as though I am giving instructions to the cat through the leash and the cat uses them as basic guidelines. \n\nBut then an owner with two dogs comes out of the house on the other side of the park. We've met them before and clearly that meeting had not yet escaped the cat's memory because she completely forgot about the hedgehog and sat up straight and proud and began growling dully.\n\nI let her simmer like that until the two, black dogs were in the middle of the park. The dogs were making eye-contact with the cat and both parties were getting visibly upset. I noted that the hedgehog had taken this opportunity to return to the bushes we had found him in. He had probably been scared away by the cat.\n\nI waved to the owner of the dogsn and the owner waved back with a sheepish smile on his face. After an awkward moment I picked my cat up, letting her sitt with her back legs on my left forearm and her front paws on my right hand to keep her stable. She didn't break eye-contact with the dogs for even a second and eventually I gave up and just carried her back into the house. \n\nWe would go out again in about ten minutes, when the dogs were gone.", "I'm casually walking down the street,\n\nAnd I look at the sun on the rise.\n\nThe glorious rays, another day I greet,\n\nClouds on fire in the skies.\n\nThe purple and blue, orange and red,\n\nColors sometimes blocked out by the trees.\n\nThe flames get brighter and they spread,\n\nThe heat cooled only by the breeze.\n\nBirds are singing a beautiful song,\n\nAnd dogs are barking on the way.\n\nI close my eyes and walk along,\n\nIn this moment, I wish I could stay.\n\nNot a care in the world, no responsibility,\n\nEnjoying the beauty of the dawn.\n\nI go inside, never again to see,\n\nThe same sunrise from now on.\n\nEach day is a gift, the sunrise my present,\n\nAnd it won't happen forever more.\n\nSince each day is new, I'm glad I spent,\n\nThe first part walking out the door.", "The soft noise of the birds and the rustling of the trees brings me back. I open my eyes to the warm soft sun shining down. I looked around and came to the realization that I don't know where I am or how got there. Standing up to orient my self, I found myself in a small field by trees and soft rolling hills. Wandering the field their appeared to be a worn trail leading down and away from the field. Assuming it is from whence i came I followed it hoping to return from wherever it is was that lead me here. \n\nThe trail was worn by many feet having come and gone before me. Their was a peaceful tranquility to everything as I passed, the soft babbling of a creek in the distance that got louder and louder as I walked the trail before me. The trees all around had the colors of a dying fire. With each breeze another leaf would brake free and begin their journey to the ground. Floating and rocking as a small boat in calm sea. When each leaf landed with a slight crunch another would fall wanting to join its brother on the forest floor. \n\nAs I watched leaf make it's journey I came across the creek, which till now seemed a far off sound. Peering into it's smooth glassy surface I watched the small fish beneath surface. Each one danced and circled about the creek it called home. Their was a pattern that they all followed as if part of a large elaborate dance only they knew the secrets of. AS I shifted my gaze I saw the dragonflies hop and skitter across the surface, seeming to be engaged with their own dance with the water striders below. As I saw each piece of the stream tie in together, the orchestra of life was unveiled before me. This beauty was lost on me as I pushed on and continued my journey.\n\nThe trail I had become so familiar with in an unfamiliar way began to open up ahead of me. Till I found myself at the forests edge and the end of street. The street seemed so familiar, something just outside the realm of memory though. On both sides of the street lush green lawns could be see and soft laughs and cries of children could be heard in the distance, almost in a ghostly manner as if they were memories of a time already come and gone. Further down the street I could see a small blonde woman bent over a garden.\n\nApproaching her I tried to speak but nothing came out. I tried and tried but to no avail. Almost abruptly the woman turned and approached me. She had a soft ad look in her eyes. Apprehensively she reached out and caressed my face with a soft touch almost as if not touching me at all. As she whispered my name Tears began to form. In that moment I came to realize that this woman was my mother from a time long ago. I tried to reach out and touch her, to speak to her, tell her I love her but was locked in place. A prisoner in this dream turned nightmare. My mother fell to her knees and sobbed. Each tear crashing to the ground like thunder. Louder and louder then the one before. I could hear here shaky voice but couldn't make out the words. My world began to collapse, the lush lawns just moments before withered and died before my eyes. Her sobbing getting louder and each tear echoing louder then the one before. The houses all around began to collapse and fall. She looked up into my eyes and mouthed \"I loved you\". With that my world finished its collapse and I was enveloped in darkness. \n\nThe feeling of rain and a cold draft brought me back. The rain and breeze coming through the hole in the wall that was the rooms only source of life. I found myself lying on a ratty old mattress with an unknown man beside and all the windows boarded up. The needle in the same spot that it had fallen from my hand from and the band still around my arm. Realizing it was just a nightmare I sat up and grabbed the needle. The nightmare still better then my reality I started down the rabbit hole once again.\n\nI tried a different approach to the subject. Any comments or critiques is greatly appreciated." ]	3
	[WP] The downfall of Reddit, and how it came to be.	[ "Today students we will be going over one of my favorite subjects the downfall of Reddit. I do realize that this is somewhat of an advanced subject for internet history 101 but it happens to be one of my favorite examples of humanities early internet follies. \n\nI know you all know vaguely what Reddit was and why it was so popular but most internet history courses in High Schools gloss over it's dramatic ending. I am going to skip the early history of Reddit as it was in your assigned reading for last week. Now lets get into the meat of it. \n\nThe year was 2019 Reddit was at it's height of internet power. The top posts shaped the popular culture landscape of the time, all mass media looked to Reddit for inspiration and guidance. Then the day of the four vile post happened. \n\nThe first happened at 1am eastern standard time, it is theorized that this post may have originated in Australia, an AskReddit thread asking what group of people would Reddit wish to remove from the Earth. The second post occurred at 5am a Worldnews post linked to an opinion article calling for American military intervention in Europe over new trade restrictions. This post was closely followed by a Bestof thread linked to comment made by a new user who advocated government intervention in the eating habits of the obese. The last post came at 11am a Pics thread that somehow made it past the mods, it was a picture of a murder crime scene the comments section was soon full of various pictures of dead people and gore. \n\nThe times posted and their popularity or rather their controversial nature lead to these post hitting the numbers 1 through 4 spots on the front page exactly at 12pm eastern standard time. Bored working Americans were stunned as they casually browsed Reddit from their office cubes and toilet stalls to find these heinous posts being upvoted to the top. It took only a few hours for the media to jump onto the outrage bandwagon. By 6pm that evening all major news stations where covering these posts, the front page of Reddit was transformed from funny pictures of cats and things people's \"girlfriends\" made into a solid wall of condemnation. \n\nThe relentless news coverage continued days after the posts had been deleted and soon lawmakers became involved. Within the year Reddit had been banned in 15 states through special ISP rules. Finally Conde Nast Reddit's parent company gave up on saving the site and shuttered it completely. There you have it students the basic rundown of the four posts of the Reddit apocalypse. Next class period we will go into deeper detail and all of this will be on the midterm. ", "The downfall of Reddit came after all the celeb nudes. Even though they originated from 4Chan, people still think Reddit was mostly at fault.\n\nSeveral lawyers that represented the affected public figures called for a lesson to be taught to everyone that viewed the nudes. Soon, every website that would even refer to the nudes in a joking manner was shut down. Reddit, 4Chan, 9gag, Likealaugh, every single one.\n\nBlogs that would dispute the whole ordeal were shut down. Soon, the government was thinking about prohibiting memes. \n\nUntil a super reddit robot came in and killed every one and we got reddit back." ]	2
Depression man! we need your help!	[WP] A man whose only superpower is to make people depressed	[ "I stared at my tenant from the other side of the table. Her hair was tangled and greasy, the bags under her eyes were sunken and dark, and her arms were wrapped around the knees she had pulled close to her chest. I smiled at her cheerfully.\n\n\"Good morning,\" I began, taking a sip from my orange juice. I didn't feel the need for coffee today.\n\nShe mumbled something, her puffy lips brushing against the tattered ends of the sleeves on her pullover as she lowered her head. Her nose and mouth were now nestled between her wrists, and her unkempt hair made a frizzy veil over her eyes. Her gaze pointed directly at me, but I knew she wasn't actually looking at me.\n\nI set my mug down. \"You know, I am really happy to have you around. Ever since my last roommate left, it's been a bit lonely.\" I grinned, letting off a bit on the Touch. I was delighted to see the instant reaction in her eyes - I could almost feel the chemical balances changing, her synapses firing.\n\nThis time the mumble was almost audible. Her eyes began to focus. She raised her face enough to free a hand to brush the hair behind her right ear. She bit her lower lip, a habit I noticed early on, which probably contributed to their swollen look. \n\n\"Of course, you are much prettier than she was.\" I broke eye contact, feigning bashfulness, while releasing the Touch just a bit more.\n\n\"Really?\" she croaked out, her voice hoarse. I glanced over, noticing a reddening at her cheekbones as she hastily reached for her own cup. I watched the movement of her pale throat as she gulped down the contents. Somehow, those natural movements made me more sure that I wanted her. I released my grip on the Touch just a bit more.\n\nShe finished the drink with a small gasp, and I could see her eyes blinking rapidly as she set the cup down. She was almost out of the fog - right at the precipice. I wrapped both hands around her hand that still gripped the cup.\n\n\"I really do like you,\" I said, staring right into her hazel eyes. With that, I let go completely. I felt the tremble that went through her body - I saw it, even. \n\nAnd she smiled.", "\"I'm going to fucking rob this bank and everything in it!\" screamed the bank robber. \"And you know why? Because it's a goddamn great cost-benefit deal!\"\n\nHe fired his assault rifle into the air. Three rounds in a semi-automatic fashion struck the ceiling, breaking the light-bulb in the fixture above him. Chunks of plaster fell from the ceiling and fell onto the people lying on the floor, their hands on their heads.\n\n\"This motherfucker cost me three thousand dollars!\" he said. \"The fucking cocaine I took cost me a thousand! These threads, I got them from my last bank robbery! They're like seven hundred dollars or something! I don't know how much they cost, I rob banks! I have a fuckload of money! But my accountant said I should go for more cost-efficient deals instead of walking in and sticking up 7-11s! I've never done that in my life! As a matter of fact, I don't know what he means at all, I have never robbed a 7-11! The 7-11s rob me! Do you know how much a gallon of milk costs at those places? Six bucks! Six bucks for a gallon of milk! I can get that at the supermarket not even two blocks away from my place for $4.50! That's bullshit, I think! What the fuck does a gallon of milk at a gas station have over a gallon of milk at a supermarket to justify the cost? Utter crap! I - \"\n\nSuddenly, a disheveled man in a dirty superhero uniform walked into the bank office.\n\n\"YOU!\" the robber screamed at the man in the costume. \"Didn't anyone tell you this place is fucking closed for renovations? Get on your knees! Hands down on the floor! You try any shit, I'm gonna blow you away!\"\n\nThe superhero stared at him. His eyes sunken into his skill, large bags underneath them. He hadn't shaved in four days.\n\n\"Inflation is at a runaway pace,\" he said to the robber. \"The money you are risking life and limb to take isn't going to matter much in ten years. It seems like a lot of money now, but it's not money you're going to be able to retire on.\" He sighs. \"I used to be like you. I had plans. I had a lot of money too. Then I opened up my bank account one night after the recession, saw everything I had worked for in my bank account, and realized that it wouldn't even last during my golden years.\"\n\n\"You shut the fuck up!\" he screamed.\n\n\"So now I'm working three jobs. I work at a Whataburger. I also work for an event services outfit, where I stand out in the cold and tell people where to park. This is my third job. And once I'm on the news, I'm going to get fired from my first and second jobs, and then I won't be able to make enough money to support myself. I'll have to live in a dumpster.\"\n\nThe bank robber dropped his gun on the floor and started to cry." ]	2
	[WP] Write the tragic story of a brother and sister fighting on opposite sides of a war.	[ "It was World War II. Training had ended 2 months prior and I was just about to go into battle. I thought about Germany ever since my brother left for university there. I was excited, or at least I pretended to be. Secretly, I braced the fire of the war, and tried not to thing about it.\n\nAs we were given our first orders, we quickly flanked left.\n\n\"Forward March!\"\n\nWe were about halfway into the forest, and the fighting started there. It was an ambush. Twenty five of our men went down in a platoon of 35. With only ten of us left, I pushed back to basic training, when my general commander said,\n\n\"If you stay low and aim high, that will never work. You have to get up and aim to the ground\"\n\nI was able to kill off most of the remaining Germans.\n\n*Holy Crap*\n\nI saw my brother. Standing in a tree, just barely hanging on. He managed to pull himself up. I quickly called out his name.\n\n\"Eric?\"\n\nHe turned to me, with a confused look. He then widened his eyes and knew what was going on. \n\nTwo things happened at that moment. I begun to realize that not everything in this world can happen the way you want it to. I also realized how loud the sound of an M-40 rifle was when you fired it at a tree.\n\nI was in shock. I climbed over the tree trunks, but couldn't find him.\n\nAnd somehow, I was ok with that.", "I once knew a man. I knew a lot of men, but this man I still remember vividly. I don't particularly know why, his appearance was not special, but nonetheless I could still draw him on a paper. We were fighting near Aleppo, in the country side. I was glad we were not fighting inside the city, because news from there only got worse. \n\nThe days were long and our dreams and sleep were over far too quick. But we kept fighting. Me, him, and the others. The Pottery Hill Batallion, us proud few. A funny name, in hindsight, but back then I didn't care much. We were not the most disciplined, nor the most cunning, nor the strongest, but I think we held our own. We never saw the heaviest of fighting, luckily.\n\nI don't think that man fit with us. He had a hardened look in his eyes, he was an excellent marksman, he seemingly had no fear. We had been firing from some trenches at a house on a hill, a regime firing position. He took the lead, charging across a field and making it to the other side. We simply followed him, and miraculously nobody was hit. We stormed the house, sustaining a few casualties. Every soldier inside was killed.\n\nI asked him why he had stormed across the field. He said he had been tired of waiting. I did not understand that, I still don't, but I had to respect it. I talked to him more often, pried some information out of him. He was from Aleppo itself, but had gotten out early in the war, and had joined our batallion not too long ago. I asked him about his family; he told us they were in Turkey, and a sister of his was in Damascus. I told him I had been to Damascus in the past but that was that.\n\nThe battles got heavier. The losses increased. After a lot of rebels near Damascus were eliminated, a lot of Republican Guard units moved up north to Aleppo. The noose around Aleppo tightened. I told him that at least his sister was safe now, but he laughed at me. She would never be safe, he told me, and she probably wasn't in Damascus anymore. Then I understood. I asked him, why? He merely shrugged.\n\nThe Republican Guard swept us aside easily enough. They stormed our positions, aided by artillery, while ours was comparatively very primitive. We fought the best we could, but this time, there was no heroic charge over the field. Some suggested we surrendered, but I didn't feel like being tortured to death in a regime prison. So, we tried to retreat, but the noose kept tightening.\n\nThus, we kept fighting. From the morning till the evening we fought, rested, got bombarded, fired. In the evening we ran out of bullets and tried to escape, but our unit got caught. They fired at us and we finally surrendered, but in the darkness I managed to jump into a bush before they spotted me. \n\nThey were held there 'till dawn. They had still not seen me, and to this day I praise God for this, and thank him. A few officers arrived, demanding answers from them. I watched with a dry throat, unable to flee. One of the officers was a woman. She interrogated all prisoners, finally arriving at the man I remember so well. She became silent, staring at him. He stared back.\n\nShe paused and ordered the soldiers to take them to Aleppo prison, with a cold voice, belonging to a cold heart. I wept for them, I wept for the long death that awaited them.\n\nI waited till night fell once more and then I ran. I slipped past the noose, and ran. I reached the Turkish border and praised God. But I just kept fleeing.\n\nAnd I never looked back.\n\n\n\n\n\n", "Lauren and Brandt had been inseparable growing up. They were often mistaken as twins, being only 17 months apart, they were in most ways as close as twins. They enjoyed the same hobbies, shared the same friends and equally brought delight to their parents. \n\nNow in their mid-twenties, they had found themselves on polar opposites of a “war” brewing in society. Brandt had found himself at an ultra-conservative university in Texas while Lauren had enrolled into an equally far leaning left college in the Midwest. While one could argue that the siblings had started to wander in different directions during high school, the evidence of such didn’t show until their matriculation through their respective colleges. \n\nLauren found herself on the moderate and left leaning side of equality for everyone, while Brandt had grown strong in his beliefs as a conservative who valued traditional marriage and thought religion to be at the forefront of all of his decisions. Having been raised in a lackadaisical religious home, it was even a bit surprising to their parents that Brandt had chosen to join an Evangelical church whose mission seemed to be condemning everyone to the pits of fiery hell if they didn’t believe in their message. \n\nDuring Lauren’s and Brandt’s, Junior and sophomore years, respectively, they’d found themselves in a disagreement that neither could muster their way out of. Brandt had just pledged Mu Omega Chi , a Christian Fraternity that proud itself on Christianity, Family and Community Service. He’d proudly proclaimed his beliefs in the morality of society. Saying that he believed gays and lesbians were the disdain of the very frail fabric of this nation, and that he felt the country was on a whirlwind downward into becoming an Islamic state. \n\nLauren had trembled as she listened to her brother, her heart pacing and her mind racing. She’d felt a lump in her throat, and she’d paced around the kitchen as Brandt continued speaking. The only break from Brandt’s rants came from their father who would periodically question Brandt on some of his beliefs. Their mother remained silent; she too seemed puzzled by Brandt’s sudden plight.\n\nIt was when Brandt started again about voting against gay marriage, that Lauren found herself conflicted. Her parents had always encouraged healthy discourse and debate, and she was searching for that strength within her to confront her brother. Finally when there was a break in the topic, for Brandt to grab another beer, Lauren spoke.\n\n“Do you never want me to get married, Brandt?” she asked.\n\n“Of course I want you to get married, and I’ll be the first one to make a toast and send you off to your romantic honeymoon.” He answered, taking another swig of his brew.\n\n“Well then that will never happen, if you vote against gay marriage. You’re essentially saying that my sister isn’t good enough to get married and enjoy the benefits of such.”\n\nAll eyes were on here. She’d come out. She hadn’t intended to, but she wanted to make a point.\n\nHer mother stood and waited. Her father stared at her, and Brandt he continued sipping on his beer. No one spoke. No one moved.\n\n“Well in that case sis, I think a commitment ceremony or whatever they’re called would have to suffice, but no, marriage in the traditional sense, you’ve excluded yourself from that when you chose to be a lesbian.” And with that Brandt stood and left the kitchen, beer in hand.\n\nTheir mother moved near Lauren and hugged her, looked her in her face and proclaimed her love for her regardless of her sexual orientation. She kissed Lauren on her cheek and walked to her bedroom.\n\nLauren stood, not yet feeling the total weight of her revelation to her family, and the harsh words of her beloved brother. \n\n“So you like girls huh?” Her father asked. “Me too, guess we have yet another thing in common scout,” and he rose from his seat to hug his daughter. \n\nWith tears in her eyes, Lauren hugged her father tightly. She cried loudly in his arms.\n\n“Don’t let your brothers words get you down, we’re all entitled to our opinions as right or wrong as they may be. Love is love, am I correct? You be Lauren and Brandt will have to be Brandt. I’m proud of you. You don’t have to fight him on this, at least not right now.” And with that he kissed his daughter on her forehead and went to check on their mother. \n\nLauren stood in the kitchen, aching, but relieved in some ways. She knew that she and Brandt had grown apart, and that they were each entitled to their respective beliefs. She only wished she could understand her brother, and that he could understand her.\n\nFor tonight she only wanted to rest, her mind and her body. She’d deal with her brother another day, for love was love right.\n" ]	3
	[WP] To help prevent school shootings high schools are now arming trusted students with hidden carry on weapons.	[ "Donovan sat at his desk listening to his teacher drone on about algebra. Why the hell does math need the alphabet mixed into it he thought. It was hard for Don to focus on numbers and letters when it was only first period. Mr. Gavin had just gone over the fourth example of how to solve for 'X' when someone knocked on the classroom door.\n\n\"Okay class, finish the example in your book and I'll see who wanted to interrupt our exciting lesson.\" Mr. Gavin walked to the back of the classroom as Donovan open his book. The example didn't seem that hard, although he wondered why anyone would need to buy exactly forty-two watermelons. He was so engrossed in the thought that he didn't notice his teacher come stand right next to him. \"Donovan.\" He flinched in surprise. \"It seems you're wanted in the principal's office.\"\n\nThe class let out an audible 'Ooooooooooohhhhhhhh' and giggled amongst themselves. Don looked up at Mr. Gavin in surprise. \"Huh?\" He looked down at the slip of paper in his teacher's hand. What the hell did I do? \n\n\"Getting into trouble, Don? That's not like you.\" He set the slip on Don's desk. \"Well, you'd better get going. They said it's urgent.\" With that, Mr. Gavin walked back to the front of the room. Don looked at the note. \n\nMr. Gavin, please send Donovan Flynn to the main office immediately. I need to have a word with him. Mrs. Shelling, Principal.\n\nGreat. Fantastic. Woo-freaking-hoo. Don closed his notes and grabbed his books from under his desk.\n\n\"What's going on?\" mouthed his friend, Nancy, from the next row over. She looked concerned. \n\n\"No idea.\" Don mouthed back as he shook his head. He tucked his books under his arm and walked out into the hallway. His footsteps echoed off the locker-lined walls. Don pinched the bridge of his nose as he tried to think why he was being summoned to the principal's office. I didn't even do anything! was all he could muster. The door to the main office seemed to materialize in front of him. He opened the door and the secretary, a middle-aged woman that Don didn't know the name of, pointed him straight back to Mrs. Shelling's office without saying a word. Don marched to where she directed on knocked on the door.\n\n\"Come in,\" said a voice. Taking a deep breath, Don turned the knob and pushed the door open. \"Ah, Donovan. Good. Good. Have a seat.\" Mrs. Shelling, a brown haired woman that looked slightly younger than the secretary, motioned to a chair in front of her desk. Don set his books on the floor and sat down. \"So, Donovan, how's your day going?\"\n\nSeriously lady? That's what you ask me after making me come here? \"Uummm, okay I guess.\" He had trouble looking directly at her face, instead focusing on the window behind her. \"Same-old same-old. Until I got this,\" he held up the note.\n\n\"Ah yes. That.\" she laughed. \"Okay, wanting to get down to business. You're a no-nonsense kind of guy. I like that.\" Don couldn't think of anything to say. \"First off, you're not in trouble.\" A weight felt like it was lifted off of Don's chest. He must have looked relieved because Mrs. Shelling said, \"I bet you were scared, huh?\" She laughed again. \"So, no need to worry about a detention or anything silly like that.\"\n\nOkay, that's good. Now what is this all about, lady? \"Well, that's good to hear.\" Don let out a slight chuckle to try and calm down. His heart felt like it was going to beat it's way out of his ribcage. Seriously. What's this all about?\n\n\"Now, as to why you're here,\" Mrs. Shelling said as she placed her arms on her desk and leaned forward. Her demeanor turned into a more serious one and Donovan felt himself paying more attention. \"I'm sure you've heard about the recent string of school shootings happening around the nation, right?\" Don's eye's went wide. WHAT. THE. HELL. All Don could do was nod. Mrs. Shelling continued. \"We here at the school, including the board and the city council, feel the need to start taking extra steps to protect the students. So we've started our own program, think of it as a secret club if you will, consisting of students, that protect everyday students, from the violent students. And I'm not talking about bullying. I mean stopping students that have murder in their eyes. Hallway Patrol is the name of our little program. And we have decided to pick you to be part of it.\"\n\nDon stared at the principal like she'd spoken another language. His mouth was open in shock. He tried to speak but only gibberish escaped his lips.\n\n\"I'm sure you have questions,\" said Mrs. Shelling. \"Ask away and I'll answer.\"\n\n\"Are you fucking serious?\"\n\n\"Yes, Don. I'm very serious.\"\n\n\"Is this even legal?\"\n\n\"There are no laws against equipping and training students. Is it unethical? Maybe. Illegal? No.\"\n\n\"Really?\"\n\n\"Yes, really.\"\n\n\"Equipping and training, what does that mean?\"\n\n\"You'll be given a stun gun, extending baton, and after an extensive training course, a fully-loaded handgun. And you'll be taught privately how to use each. Also, you'll partake in strategic planning and negotiating courses. All of it will take place after school and at no cost to you.\"\n\n\"I can't fucking believe this.\"\n\n\"I know it's a lot to take in, Don. And I can tell it's overwhelming. However, I must insist you stop swearing. I am your principal after all. Everything you could want to know is in the folder.\" She slid a manilla folder over to Don. \"Those are for your eyes only, Don. No one else is to see what's in that folder. Not even your parents.\"\n\n\"Do I have a choice?\" Don stared at the folder.\n\n\"Yes, it's entirely optional. You can back out at any time, even right now. You can walk out of my office and this will never be brought up again. Any more questions?\"\n\n\"Why me?\"\n\n\"We have watched you closely over the past few months. You seem to fly under the radar from most cliques in the school. You have friends, but most of the student body would glance over you in a group. You've never been in serious trouble at school or in public, and you have a clear and rational head on your shoulders What I'm trying to say is, you're a person that can blend in anywhere in the school and you'll be able to help people wherever they are in the building.\"\n\nDon continued staring at the folder. \"If, and I mean IF,\" he began. \"If I did this, what will I tell everyone I'm doing after school?\"\n\n\"Your cover story is in the folder. Stick to that and you shouldn't have any problems. Now, I know you need time to think about it. Take the folder, and read over everything. I'll see you later in the week for your answer. Time for you to get back to, algebra, is it?\"\n\n\"Yeah, algebra.\" Was that only today? It seems like I was in that class years ago. \n\n\"Okay, off you go then. And remember, not a word.\"\n\nDon nodded, grabbed the folder and his books, and left the office. The walk back to Mr. Gavin's room seemed to take an eternity. When he entered everyone stared at him but Mr. Gavin kept on lecturing. A couple minutes later the bell rang. \n\n\"Hey Don. What's going on?\" asked Nancy next to him.\n\nDon was at a loss for words, so he opened his folder to find the words he was supposed to say.", "\"It's always the last you'd expect.\" The words echoed through my mind. The words that haunted the news, the papers, the radios ever since the law was passed.\n\n\"My kids could never hurt a fly\" proclaimed mothers universally, they agreed that their jock, straight A, flawless brats were clearly the best choice in the fight against the evils of the world.\n\nI could hear the wailing now. The pain was kicking in and the shock was wearing off. People remembered what those echoing bangs truly were and footsteps charged throughout the halls. \n\n\"Its always the last you expect. I'm sorry\" I whispered to the body I held in my arms.\n\nThey thought it could only be the freaks, the weirdos, the social pariahs that were capable of these atrocities. Thats why the honor roll became a militia. Patrolling the halls on free periods. Armed to the teeth and not afraid to show it. The schools were police states. Cliques were now military factions. It was a cold war of teen angst.\n\nThey kicked the door in. They found me. I hear \"Its never who they expect, leave no witnesses\".\n\nDarkness falls.", "I don't think any of us really expected it to ever happen. Not for us, at least. Like someone who learns CPR just in case, but never gets the chance to use it. And by the time someone's clutching their throat right in front of them they barely remember what they learned.\n\nAnd they choke. \n\nWe weren't told who the others were. Nor when and where they would be at all times. I always assumed the people up top would be smart, and situate us so we could cover as much ground as possible. Luckily, I was wrong. Or maybe not-so-luckily. \n\nIt rained hard that day. The type of day where in a movie you'd expect some great tragedy to be playing out on the screen. But more like the aftermath of a tragedy instead of the actual action sequence. Not the scene where the shooter attacks the school. \n\nI remember staring at her that day. She had long red hair, skin so pale it was like she was just a step away from vanishing into thin air at any moment. I was attracted to her because of her poise. She seemed different from the other girls in the 10th grade. Different even from half of the ones in 12th grade. And so I was caught off guard when the teacher suddenly yelled my name.\n\n\"Mr. Quentin!\" My head snapped to the front of the room, which only made it obvious that that's not where I had been looking. \"The passage, please.\" In a shock induced daze I looked down at the open textbook in front of me, then back up at my teacher. Her eyes were hard but had a knowing look to them. She knew I had no idea where we were. She just wanted to hear me stumble. \n\nThe sound of a mini-thundercloud bursting into existence in the hallways echoed softly off the desks in the room. \n\nAfter a moment's panic, my teacher took charge just before a wave of panic could be unleashed. \"Quiet, children! Everyone get under your desks!\" But some of us were already standing. Bodies passed me as students ran towards the back of the room in a frenzy. Without thinking, I started running too. Straight towards the door to get a closer look. \n\nLater I would be surprised at how little thought was going through my mind at the time. I looked out the window, seeing nothing out of the ordinary. Instinct thankfully kept me from opening the door, but despite my training I didn't think to shut off the lights. Someone else did. \n\n\"The lights!\" I heard a voice from behind me and my hand snapped to obey as if the command had come from my own brain and not outside of it. \n\nI glanced back, saw one other boy standing behind me also looking out, several students under the desk (including her, I noted), the teacher crouched low, frantically signaling me to move away from the door. \n\nAnd when I looked back I saw a snarling face. I retreated a second too late.\n\nHe crashed into the room, gun waving wildly, mouth moving as he yelled, \"Everybody shut up and stay down!\" A moment after everyone had seen his face he tried to improvise a face mask using his shirt. The room screamed all the same. \n\nI knew what I had to do. As soon as he was semi-distracted, I'd move my hands up as if to hold my hands in the air. Halfway through the maneuver I'd slip my hand inside my sweater, draw my tranquilizer gun, aim and fire. Easy. \n\nExcept my teacher was making her own plans. Emboldened, apparently by the fact that she knew the assailant, she half-rose. \"Malcolm! What are you doing?\" \n\n\"Shut-up!\" \n\nHis gun rose. His body turned with a jerk. \n\nMy mind scrambled to execute my plan. Hands rushing up, shooter's body finished turning. Hand slipping into sweater, shooter's arm finished turning. Grab gun, another thundercloud, but the shooter hadn't finished aiming and I heard the crystal clear sound of breaking glass.\n\nThe next shot wasn't a thundercloud. More like the razor-swish sound of lightning. My tranquilizer. \n\nI think a basic sense of aiming comes when you learn to shoot a gun. Kind of like a basketball player who can know, before the ball even leaves their hand, whether they'll make it or miss it. I knew I missed before my adrenaline-enhanced eyes saw what no one else in the room saw. The dart from my gun breaking against the blackboard. \n\nBut something happened before that. They say lightning doesn't strike the same place twice. But I heard another lightning bolt fired at the shooter a split-second after mine. \n\nHe crumpled to the floor. \n\nIt was a minute before my brain caught up to reality again, and when it did I was surrounded by my smiling classmates, congratulating me, saying they would've never suspected I was an Understudy. But I knew I didn't deserve the congratulations. Someone else did. Someone who not only stopped the shooter from taking a life, but also managed to not blow their cover in the process. And as I saw one person walking a fraction slower, one person whose excited expression looked as hollow as a ghost's, I got a pretty good idea of who it was. ", "Jessie sat at the back of the class, elbows on desk, head on her hands, bored out of her skull. She was five chapters ahead in Trig, and Fourier Transformations just couldn't keep her attention.\n\nHer eyes snapped open as a voice only she could hear said, \"Contact.\" It was Hernando Knox, their Coordinator. No further words for several heavy seconds. \"Suicide vest. Gorman Quad, south side. Suspect he'll blow when class lets out in two minutes. Jessie, you're closest. Clevon, Roderick; you're back-up. Go.\"\n\nJessie swept up out of her chair out out the class-room door before Ms. Dussel could protest -- the teacher, and the whole school, would know soon enough that Jessie was one of the school's Black Guard.\n\nDown the empty hall, turn the corner, stop at the doors -- look through onto the Quad -- and there was \"Little\" Randall Neubamm, standing in black jeans and a giant black down jacket, looking nervous.\n\nOh gods, not Randy. She knew his psych profile; he was fragile, but what had pushed him over the edge? Impossible to know. She sighed, gathered her resolve, and nodded to Clevon as he sidled up beside her.\n\n\"What's the plan?\" he asked. They'd drilled for guns more than bombs, and had only role-played suicide vests a few times.\n\nDid Randy have a dead-man's switch? Yes; clutched in his hand.\n\nJessie slid the needle-gun out of her inside-belt holster and flicked the safety off.\n\n\"One minute,\" came Hernando's voice.\n\nJessie closed her eyes. She'd trained, but found herself frozen. Clevon clocked her roughly on the shoulder. \"Jessie -- what's the plan?\"\n\n\"I wish I had time for you to distract him while I snuck up behind and tried for the dead-man's switch in his hand. We don't have time. This door won't shield much of the blast. Stand back around the corner; you're my back up if I fail.\"\n\nClevon backed up, and Jessie prepared to open the door just enough to aim and fire.\n\nRandy turned in surprise as the door started to open, jaw dropping in shock as the needle-gun poked through the crack. His eyes met Jessie's.\n\nIt took two months to rebuild the quad, and repair the facade of the school building. The new courtyard doors, when they were installed, contained a plaque dedicated to her bravery, and the sacrifice she had made to protect her fellow students.\n\nThe news-cycle ate it up, argued over the Black Guard program, but finally moved on to other topics. \n\nEvery day, long after the other students had left, and in the years that followed, Clevon and many of the others would walk by the plaque, and touch it, and remember." ]	4
	[WP] A man sits inside a hospital with an explosive strapped to him. The timer reads 5 minutes. The police send you in to talk him into disabling the bomb. You go to talk to him, but before you can say a word, he says, "Puzzle me. If you stump me with a puzzle, I'll stop this bomb."	[ "I walked in to the room with the potential bomber and asked, \"On your way to the truth teller's village you come to a fork in a road with a man standing there. He could be a liar that always lies, or a truth teller that always tells the truth. If you could ask only one question, how would you determine which way to go to get to the truth teller's village?\" and waited for his puzzled response with the knowledge that riddles like these are quite puzzling.", "\"As I was going to Saint Ives, I met a man with seven wives. The even wives had seven sacks. And in the seven sacks there were seven cats. How many were going to Saint Ives?\"\n\n\"One. You. Everyone has seen that movie dickhead.\"\n\nThe explosion could be heard 4 miles away.", "\"Wait, let me get this straight, if I give you a puzzle you cannot solve, you will voluntary stop the bomb?\"\n\n\"Yes.\"\n\n\"Any puzzle, question, riddle at all?\"\n\n\"Yes.\"\n\n\"What specific words do I say that will make you stop the bomb?\"\n\n\"... Fuck.\"\n\n\"Fuck!\"\n\nHe clicked the bomb off." ]	3
Credit: Sarah Selecky mailing list	[WP] Write a scene where the crumb on the table has particular significance	[ "One day Billy came home from school really wanted a snack. \"Hey Mom can I have a snack?\" Billy asked him mom. \n\n\"No Billy it's almost dinner time you are going to ruin your appetite.\" Billy's mom said. \n\nBilly was really hungry though because some kid at school stole his lunch money so Billy could not eat lunch. \"But Mooooooooooom I'm really hungry.\" He said\n\n\"I said NO Billy!\" said Billy's mom. \"And if you ask again I'll get your father down here and you now how Daddy gets when he's been drinking.\" \n\nBilly was sad. He went to his room to go play with his toys. He pulled out his favorite train set when he remembered that there was a pop-tart under his bed he was saving for a special occasion. Billy took the pop tart and ate it. It was strawberry. It tasted really good to Billy because Billy really likes strawberry pop tarts. \n\nBilly's mom then opened the door. \n\n\"Billy, dinner is ready\" said his mom. \n\n\"Ok mommy\" said Billy. \n\nShe started turning around when she notice something... \n\n\"Why is there a crumb on the table?\" She asked. \"Does it have a particular significance?\" \n\n\"No mommy\" said Billy. \n\n\"I know you ate that pop tart under your bed\" she said. \"But jokes on you ya little poop face, I laced it with horse laxative!!!\" \n\n\"OHHH NOOOOO!!!!\" Billy said. The only thing he hated worse than his father going on a drunken rampage around the house was explosive diarrhea. Billy started to cry as he felt the pressure of his poop build up inside of his butt. Billy started to run towards the toilet but he did not get there in time. As he started pulling down his pants the poop started flowing out of his hiney like a water fountain. The poop got all over the walls and the top of the toilet. \n\nBilly pooped so much diarrhea that he died of dehydration. \n\nThe End. \n\n", "I fiddle with a piece of food still left on the table from lunch. Moveing the food back and forth across the grout between the tiles on the kitchen table. So I am about to do it. It has taken me ten years to get up the courage to get to this moment but I feel myself delaying it just a second or two more. Beating around the bush. I start in, I pause, I change the subject. It’s only takes two words but I just can’t seem to find them.\n\nIt’s 2 PM on the Saturday before Christmas. My mom and I are talking about something innocuous. I think we were literally talking about the weather. This feels like moment but inertia is so powerful. For years it has been my go to excuse to myself. “Well I got through yesterday, why should I change anything today?” So I just sit here. Paying just enough attension to respond with the appropriate sign of agreement when needed. “That is crazy.” “I can’t believe it.” My finders draw circles around this crumb on the table.\n\nDo you know what feeling I really hate - this sounds a little like the beginning of a terrible Dane Cook joke, it’s not, I promise - the feeling I hate most in this world is the drop in the pit of your stomach when you say something you instantly wish you could take back. This deep set panic where all I would like to do is rewind the last thirty seconds of existence. Like if you could just grab the words out of the air before they escape too far and gobble them back up, no one would know they left your lips.\n\nI sort of came to the conclusion I was gay at camp back in middle school. On the first nights, my bunkmakes briefed me on what became a twelve week long singular mission. Under cover of darkness, we would sneak out, across the country road that divided our camp and over to the girls side. I just didn’t care. \n\nThe summer before high school, my family went on a cruise and I meet this guy while a couple of friends and I were hanging out on the bow of the boat. He was cute, funny, nice and basically perfect. I know some of you are thinking the hormones that were pumping through my veins that day might cloud my memory but I promise you, he was perfect. It’s sort of funny that I don’t even remember his name now. He accidentally played this somewhat pivitol role in my life but he probably doesn’t even know. That last night of the cruise there was this big dance. Think 1950s sock hop except its the late 90s so everyone is wearing jeans that don’t fit and the only dance we seem to know is called grinding. When I went to say goodbye to my friend, he was kissing one of the girls in our group good night. Suddenly the air is out of my chest. It’s not like I expected anything of him but at the same time, I had constructed a world in my mind where this just couldn’t happen. The next morning, we all locked ourselves in this long steel tube which flew back across the atlantic. Six hours in, tears start to roll down my cheeks. Really, this is the moment you want to process this? There is a captive aduience of at least twenty within ten feet of me. The next day is a bit of a sleep deprived blur. “Everyone feels this way at some point or another.”...“I just don’t want to talk about it.” We haven’t talk about it for eight years.\n\nI’m running out of crumb on the kitchen table. As I moved it around and around the tile, it has shrunk more and more. I really don’t have a plan for what to do at that point. I hadn’t thought that far ahead.\n\n… “I’m gay.” … I said it. Breath in. Breath out. Breath in. Breath out. Look up.\n\nOne thing that I wasn’t prepared for was the number of times I would have to come out. The closet metaphor seems to suggest that there is this seminal moment, when you grasp the handle and open the door. I imagined there is supposed to be flowers, balloons, cake, and shirtless men dancing on a bar filled with cocktails - the gays do throw the best parties. But I started coming out six years ago and today all I get is a piece of dried food stuck to the table that I am still thumbing at.\n\nStep one complete. I just came out to my mom. I brace myself for whatever questions my mom has. I have trained for this. I have my gender and sexuality theory brimming. I can whip out the Kinsey scale or explain the difference between gender, sex, and sexuality. I can deconstruct identity and talk about societal pressures. I can talk about the scientific literature which has correlated the shape of the hippocampus in straight women with that of gay men. No softballs, I am ready.\n\n...“How do you know?”...\n\nI know this isn’t fair to her but I feel this pang of anger whenever I get this question. There is no way that she could have known my history. She doesn’t know about when I struggled with my feelings for my friend in bunk B20 at camp. She doesn’t know about how in high school I would sometimes lay awake and think “if only I could wake up tomorrow and be straight.” She doesn’t know about that first kiss under the stars on my dorm room roof. The kiss that got me to come out of the closet to my friends the next day. She doesn’t know about the awesome guys I have been fortunate enough to have in my life during college or the ones I would probably have been better off not having had in my life. Because if she did know even some of these things, then she would realize that her question makes almost no sense. How could I not know? I want to tell her all of these things but I just don’t know where to start...\n\n…all I manage to respond is “I am sexually attracted to men.”\n\n“Oh ok. I didn’t know.”\n\nAnd that’s it. It’s over. We move on to another conversation. She hands me a sponge to wipe the crumbs off the table.\n\nI walk down Castro street in San Francisco a lot since moving out here. Sometimes I am going to a bar, or the gym, or brunch. And although most days it just seems like any other street, every once in a while, I look over at something named after Harvey Milk and I remember the struggles that men and women went through to make society the way it is for me. I am so eternally grateful to live in a time where I can walk down the street hand-in-hand with my boyfriend. I am so grateful to live in a time where my mom didn’t disown me for being gay. I am so grateful that personally, the worst piece of homophobia I have ever experienced was when middle school friends used the word gay or my religious friend told me that “she loved my despite the fact I was going to hell.” And I know that these victories didn’t come without cost.\n\nI’m sitting at Orphan Andy’s eating a burger after work. “Did it go well? What did she say?” I pause. “I don’t know.”\n", "\"Uuugh.\" \nI wonder at last nights decisions as I wake up, slowly. Opening my eyes, I cringe as light floods my vision. I'm alone in my room, and when I open the door, I see that I'm alone in my entire suite. \n\nWhere are my roommates?\n\nThe kitchen has nothing in it, somehow we've been surviving off of beer and ramen for the last two months. I sit down at the table and try to get my bearings.\n\nWhat happened last night?\n\nI remember walking to the party, 6-pack in my hand and group of friends surrounding me. I got lucky, my roommates are all super chill guys and we've been hanging out since the beginning of school.\n\nSomebody there had some really dank weed, so after that we didn't care about much anymore. We all got some alert about an escaped serial killer, and we all went to the park, to go yell at some birds. I don't know why we do this, but it has been happening for a while now. It's pretty fun, just to have a rowdy college experience for no reason.\n\nBut how did I get home?\n\nIt feels warm, did someone leave the oven on? I open my eyes and turn around, to see the oven turned to 350 degrees, like someone was preheating it for something.\n\nWho would have done that? We don't ever have anything to cook.\n\nI turn around to put my face in my hands. Something swims into focus on the table- a single bread crumb.\n\nBread, I haven't eaten bread in weeks. Where did that--\n\nIt suddenly slams into me, the alert we got last night. The serial killer. No, they couldn't have let him escape, it's not possible. It can't be. I hear a quiet footstep in the hallway outside the kitchen.\n\n\"Connor, is that you?\"\n\n**\n\nAMBER ALERT: We are searching for a group of five 18 year old males, recently started going to college at UCLA. Last seen two nights ago. We have reason to believe that they have been taken by the escaped serial killer formerly known as The Baker. Any information that could lead to the capture of this man and the safety of these children is useful and should be given to one of our operators at (823) 555-0384.", "I had been sitting in my mothers chair for hours. My legs were numb and my toes felt hard and cold. I always complained to my mother that the kitchen chairs were too high for our table and that they were uncomfortable to sit on. She insisted on keeping them because they had been hand built my her grandfather and had been passed down to her when they should have gone to her brother and were designed to improve posture at that. One day I came home to find she'd made a cushion for my chair and had placed one of her mini novels she used to buy from a door to door salesman under each of the table legs. I glanced down at one of the novels. They were all the same, some girl in some town being rescued by some good-hearted man. I was going to get up and finally start cleaning when I noticed a trail of ants climbing the table leg. I sat and watched for a while as they made it to the top of the table. The first few paused when they reached the top. I'm sure the table seemed like a vast desert to them or maybe even a mountain top. They soon began to explore and it wasn't long before one of them found a few bread crumbs from a sandwich I had been eating yesterday. My mother always cut the crust of my sandwich and would stand over me chewing at the crust as I ate. The ants seemed excited as they began to group together. They were moving a lot faster than before as they now had a purpose. At first I was glad they had found some food, I was glad to have some company but then I had a strange feeling. These were the crumbs of the last sandwich my mother made for me. Only yesterday she was standing over me, as always, nibbling at the crust, her hand on the back of my neck and head when she wordlessly crumpled to the \nfloor. I began crushing the ants under my thumb with more pressure than was needed. When I saw that there were no more moving ants I looked at my thumb. It was stained slightly black and when I rubbed my index against it the ant legs and other body parts felt like sand. I stood and reached for a cup and then placed it over my mothers crumbs.", "I ate the last piece of apple pie and I get the chomps from my girlfriend. I suppose I deserve what I am about to tell you next, but in my defense, I could have done worse.\n\n\nIt was the day after Thanksgiving, and I had taken the day off. I had been dieting for the last few months and my gains were starting to take off. I used Thanksgiving as my cheat day and I decided to extend that cheat day to a slice of pie. \n\n\nI should also mention at this point that my girlfriend is the daughter to a gym owner, who runs several franchises in the local area. So, to say that she's a fitness freak is a huge understatement.\n\n\nNow, I go out for a run, return 45 minutes later, see the slice of pie, have a proper think about it, then cleaned my self up. When I had first seen the pie, it was untouched, uncut, and pristine with it's golden crust, the crumbling, flaky, buttery goodness that was that apple pie, smothered with a caramel coating near the middle with cherries and strawberry slices topping it all off.\n\n\nWhen I came out of the shower, the pie had been disturbed. There was a slice missing. So I decided to help myself. My girlfriend wasn't around, she was at the gym. Her equipment was gone and the only remains of her presence were her sandals. \n\n\nHowever, there was an extra pair of running shoes near the door.\n\n\nI didn't mind it, and decided to blame the entire fiasco on some other person, someone in the vicinity. So I washed the dishes, cleaned the table, but I apparently missed a single crumb.\n\n\nA marginal thing, something that would be disregarded in an instant.\n\n\nUnless it's beside a whopping of a delicious pie that had been disturbed.\n\n\nWhen my girlfriend came back, several hours later, she immediately noticed the pie. And the crumb. Especially* the crumb.\n\n\nShe tasted it, licking her lips, and almost immediately spat it back out. In one smooth motion, from the moment she spat, she snatched the pie from the table, dumped it into the garbage bin and yelled a long, throat burning, ear piercing, enraged filled yell that called for her father.\n\n\nWhat happened next, I can't say with certainty.\n\n\nBut it mostly involved her running back out to her car, driving off in a mad scheme and returning roughly 45 minutes later. I vaguely remember a man in his 60s rush into the apartment, rush for the pie and scream at her. Then, both of them run up to me accusingly and almost simultaneously ask \"DID YOU MAKE THIS PIE?!\"\n\n\nI shook my head quickly, and received their response. \"YOU FOOL, YOU JUST ATE THE DEVIL'S PIE! YOU'RE GOING TO PASS AWAY FROM THE ONSET OF QUICK DIABETES.\"\n\n\nI really don't know what happened, since I began laughing. \n\n\nI must have been hit over the head, but in anycase, I woke up in a hospital with both my girlfriend watching over me with a hawk eye and her father with a gigantic grin.\n\n\nShe was shaking her head. All her father quietly said was, \"That's why we don't cheat.\"", "Leon's leg bounced involuntarily up and down with the toes of his right foot pressing against the floor. Jerome was late, again.\n\nA bell rang in the little diner, someone had opened the door.\n\n\"Sorry, I'm late.\" said Jerome. \"I think I have dyschronometria.\"\n\nLeon took another sip of beer from the tall stein in front of him.\n\n\"Disco who?\" he said.\n\nJerome was a rather frail and shaky looking man with glasses and a brown cardigan sweater.\n\n\"What, you never heard of dyschronometria?\" he said.\n\n\"I think you are well aware that nobody has ever heard of disco-whatever-the-hell you're talking about. In fact, I'm pretty sure that's why you said it to begin with.\"\n\n\"It means you have no way of knowing how long you have been doing something.\" Jerome said as he took a seat across from Leon at the small table in the corner of the diner.\n\n\"Sure you do.\" said Leon. \"You got a watch. Look at it.\"\n\n\"Watches make me nervous.\" said Jerome.\n\n\"Nervous?\" said Leon, \"Why the hell would a watch make you nervous?\"\n\n\"It's not just watches, it's jewelry in general. I don't like adornments. You know, it's not uncommon to lose a limb or die from jewelry.\"\n\nLeon used both hands to rub his face and eyes as words kept coming from Jerome.\n\n\"Just last week, \" continued Jerome, \"there was a man that tried to step onto the subway as the door was closing... well, he got his wedding ring hung on the side of the door and the subway dragged him about a mile down the tracks.\"\n\nLeon peeked out over his hands, \"Jesus, did it kill him?\"\n\n\"No, but he nearly lost a finger and ended up getting a divorce from his wife.\" said Jerome.\n\nLeon rolled his eyes. \"Why are you telling me all this, Jerome?\"\n\n\"Lightning strikes.\" \n\n\"What?\" said Leon.\n\n\"That's a big problem too you know... if you're struck by lightning and you're wearing a watch or a necklace, than the outline of it is permanently burned into your body for the rest of your life.\"\n\n\"How often do you think something like that actually ever happens? I mean, who worries about this stuff?\" said Leon.\n\n\"Well, \" said Jerome, pushing his glasses back up onto the bridge of his nose, \"often enough. Could you imagine it? Having your watch burned into your wrist? What if I don't even like the watch? What if I was just wearing it because my mother gave it to me as a gift and I think it's hideous, but I'm going to have lunch with her on her and I don't want to offend her by not wearing it. Do you really want to be scarred by a hideous piece of jewellery?\"\n\n\"We're in a restaurant Jerome.\" said Leon. \"You're an hour late, and I'm hungry. Can we just order and then address your psychological problems while we eat?\"\n\n\n\"Well, excuse me for trying to look out for your best interests in the event of a sudden electrical storm.\" said Jerome feeling somewhat mildly insulted.\n\n\n\"I hear the tuna fish sandwich is good.\" said Leon.\n\n\n\"Ahh, no can do friend.\" said Jerome. \"Do you have any idea how much mercury is contained in a single tuna?\"\n\n\"No, but I have a feeling I'm about to find out.\" said Leon.\n\n\"You know that Nicholas Cage don't you?\" asked Jerome, \"Well, he went on a tuna-only diet about ten years ago to get ready for some acting role, and you know what happened to him?\"\n\n\"What? He had sex with a swimsuit model and bought a small island off the coast of Trinidad?\" said Leon.\n\n\"Brain damage.\" said Jerome. \"Yup, you can totally see it, he can't hide it anymore. How else would you explain that Left Behind movie? Canned tuna nearly cost him his career.\"\n\nA woman with a fairly passing resemblance to a mid-thirties Gwyneth Paltrow walked over to the table carrying a small notepad and put a glass of water down next to Jerome.\n\n\"What can I get you fellas?\" she said while chewing gum.\n\n\"I'll have the special.\" said Leon.\n\n\"Alright, roast beef and mashers it is... and for you sir?\" she wrote, then looked at Jerome.\n\nJerome stalled as long as he could.\n\n\"Do you have... any gluten free options?\"\n\n\"Well, we have steak and eggs.\" said the waitress.\n\n\"Tell you what, can I just get a plate of lettuce?\" asked Jerome.\n\nThe waitress wasn't sure what to say.\n\n\"Actually, you can just bring out a whole head of it with a fork... oh and do you have any mustard?\" asked Jerome.\n\nThe waitress looked at Leon.\n\n\"It's ok miss, just bring us another special for him please.\" Leon said.\n\nFor a moment, she hesitated, \"Ok. Two roast beef plates it is then.\" Then she quickly walked away from the table.\n\n\"Why you gotta be so goddamn weird...\" said Leon. \"Every Tuesday I come out here hoping to have a normal conversation, but it's always the same damn thing. You got these 'ticks' Jerome.\"\n\n\"I assure you I have no ticks, I check every night.\"\n\n\"No, mental ticks, Jerome. Maybe you need to see a doctor, you know get checked out.\"\n\nJerome glanced over at the bar of the diner.\n\nThe waitress was bussing the countertop and swiped a rag over the surface to clean it. That's when it caught his eye.\n\nA single breadcrumb was swept from the top of the bar, bounced off one of the chairs at the table next to them and landed on the floor close to Leon.\n\nLeon kept talking. Whether it was mocking, insults, or sincere advice, it was all but lost on Jerome at this very moment. Jerome had found a new interest: the breadcrumb.\n\nWe meet again Jerome. said the breadcrumb, with sinister overtones.\n\nJerome's eyes widened and dilated. His breath came quickly now as his heart fluttered in his chest. Fixated and terrified at what was unfolding right in front of him. Right in front of Leon, the waitress and the whole goddamn world.\n\n\"You can't scare me. Not anymore.\" said Jerome.\n\nOh yeah? said the breadcrumb.\n\nSomewhere between the ice water and the synapse... that place where the soul tells the dick to get hard and the feet to feel the floor... Jerome watched the world collapse upon him.\n\nThe lights began to dim. Goodbye to Leon. Goodbye beautiful waitress. Goodbye little diner.\n\nJerome wasn't sure if he was shrinking down to the size of the breadcrumb, or if the breadcrumb was rising to meet him. Either way, they met someplace in the middle and now Jerome's greatest fear - the one he had tried all these years to put behind him - was right here, real as the rain in Spain baby.\n\nTwenty-seven years ago, Jerome Kindly had been in the semi-quarter finals of the national spelling bee competition held at \nWichita State University. His parents had been so proud - especially since the event was televised over public access cable. Every single living member of his father's side of the family were at home watching. As for the mother's side, well they all decided to charter a bus and cheer Jerome on in person. As delighted as his folks felt he should have been, Jerome was simply not a fan of attention. He was also under the most astonishing amount of pressure that a sixteen-year old boy who had never spoken to a girl and had zits the size of cooked popcorn kernels could possibly be under. \n\nHe recalled the trauma as if it were just five seconds ago...\n\nJerome walked out onto the stage, in front of all the lights and cameras, and proud family members, and teenage girls with short skirts. He walked out there and stood in front of the microphone.\n\n\"Jerome, your word is Esquamulose.\" the voice said.\n\n\"The voice\" was that of none other than the illustrious Wichita Falls middle school English teacher Ms. Rebecca Strovonaski-Smith. Rumor had it that she was the mail-order bride of one Coach, and part-time bus driver, Jacob \"Smitty\" Smith from Wichita Falls High. And, my friend, she was smokin' hot.\n\nOnce Jerome had made eye-contact with her, all bets were off.\n\n\"Wha... wha... I'm sorry... could you repeat that?\" said Jerome.\n\nMs. Rebecca sexily began to twirl a lock of her long, sleek black hair with her index finger. Then, she let go of it and began to suck on it ever so suggestively while she brought up the index card once more.\n\nEsquamulose. she said.\n\n\"Could... could you use it in a sentence?\" asked Jerome.\n\nCould she use it in a sentence? Oh my... could she ever. \n\n\"Sure, sweet pea, \" said Ms Rebecca, \"When I'm all hot and sweaty from a long, hard workout... I step into the steamy, wet shower and let my robe fall to the ground while I squeeze cinnamon sugar body wash all over my esquamulose skin.\" \n\nAll the men in the audience were now staring slack-jawed at Ms. Rebecca. Coach Smith stood over to the side of the stage and lit a cigarette. \n\n\"Th... thank you.. Ms... Ms Rebecca... I mean, Ms. Strovonaski-Smith.\"\n\nJerome prepared himself, then began.\n\n\"Esquamulose,\" he cleared his throat, \"E... S... Q... U... A...\"\n\nThen, it happened.\n\nJerome began to spew the most extraordinary black and blue vomit from the depths of his young, teenage soul, until finally he fainted on stage.\n\nBecause of this, Jerome's life would never be the same again. Lifting his hands to try and bring order to the ceaseless flow of fluids pouring from his mouth, Jerome took away the hands that were previously being held over his private area. Paramedics rushed onto the stage, followed of course by the cameras and the flashing lights.\n\nJerome, sprawled out there on the floor of the Wichita State University theatre stage, was pitching a tent that would make Peter North himself proud. Ms. Rebecca had apparently bestowed upon Jerome a penis that was harder than a prison diamond forged in the heart of a supermassive black hole.\n\nHe awoke in a hospital room, sometime around six-thirty pm. He wasn't sure because he was never really good at knowing how much time had passed and he refused to wear a watch.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n", "My breathing runs ragged, but it appears the monsters haven't seen me, and for now I am safe.\n\nMy day has been one long ordeal after another. First we awoke, my brethren and I, from our icy tomb, such freezing death! We blinked, like newborn breadcrumbs fresh from the fires that birth us (oh holy oven-mother, please undo my undoing), and let the warmth penetrate. It baked into us, revitalised us, and I sensed new hope and optimism in our collective fish finger gathering. We were strong, we were ready. We smelled of determination, galour, and 7 different types of herbs and spices; we were almighty.\n\nOh wicked pride, such sinful sin! We did not see the path ahead. An irony not lost on me, as we have such a knack of finding our way back from places when we roam.\n\nWe were placed on a plate, with chip cousins and peas for pleasant participatory pillow talk. What a future we saw ahead, what a pleasant past it seems we left behind.\n\nThe monsters were brutal, and merciless. We stood no chance, as time and again our proud formation was cut and sawn asunder by giant metallic claws of death. Oh oven-mother, how I yearn for you to cast me fresh once again. Little chance however, I saw what the metallic claws were for. We were consumed, and my brethren are no more.\n\nI escaped. Nothing more than a happiness of chance as the smallest monster, perhaps the king as he sat on a chair unlike the others and they appeared to serve his every desire, threw me from his plate, casting me from damnation. \n\nThe king-monster-midget called out to me as I fell into a wicked shade to hide eye's temptation. 'Uh-oh' he cried. Uh-oh indeed kind monarch, uh-oh.\n\nThey have left me now, they have taken the king away to serve him elsewhere, so now I rest, and regroup. I need to fight back.\n\nHmm, a newcomer has entered. A different monster this one, hairy and with slobbering tongue. Perhaps I can communicate with the beast, maybe ride him back to the oven-mother. Yes, he comes this way, surely an agent of the very reverant cookhouse herself. Blessed be her name.\n\nCome beast, let us do her work! Wait, what are you doing? Stop sniffing me.... don't open your mouth! Oven-mother, nooo!", "I wandered into the hall and flicked on the light. The whole room was bare. It seemed strange that just yesterday the place had been adorned with furniture, furniture I had inherited from my grandparents, and now, who knows where it was. The only things I've been left with are a table and stool, untouched, in the centre of the studio. \nI made my way across the room to sit down, listening intently to the echo of my footsteps as I went. The place was hollow. Its soul stolen. \nI plonked myself down and allowed my eyes to unfocus, the white walls losing their sharp edges. I tilted my head and sighed. \nLooking down, I noticed a crumb on the table. A small, lonely crumb, sitting perfectly still, framed by the empty space of the table. It reminded me of me, sitting here in this room. We were pals, me and this crumb. \nBut more than that, it reminded me of her. It was her crumb after all. This tiny piece of bread was all that I had left of her and this thought alone brought me to tears. \nI shielded the speck of food from a watery grave as my tears splashed onto the tabletop. Then, when I could cry no more, I lay my head beside it. I squinted my eyes until it was the only thing in my vision and then I jolted upright, she may have been watching me. I didn't want her to think I'm weird. \nI got up abruptly and threw on my coat, I couldn't sit here all day eyeballing a silly crumb, there were people that needed me. There were things far more important to be dealing with. \nI raised my hand to swipe the crumb from its resting place but found that my arm would not comply. I couldn't do it. It was innocent; just an innocent crumb. So instead I pinched it in my fingers and placed it in my top pocket, it would be safe there. And then I left. \nIt took what seemed like forever to reach my destination - time had slowed since yesterday and the world was in a haze. But I had to focus, these kids needed me. Especially today. \nI met Paul at the door, his trousers spattered with dark patches where two children clung, their eyes still damp. It broke my heart to see them upset but I couldn't blame them, yesterday is a day that will stay with them forever. And now, it was up to me to dry those tears but I didn't mind - sometimes you have to be strong for the sake of others and my God I was going to do it for them, even if they weren't mine. Sadly though, I think I'll be drying their eyes for a long time - it's not an easy thing to get over, your mom being murdered in cold blood, right there in the kitchen that we shared. But I can't think about that now. I have to be there for them. I know a time will come when they will dry my tears but today is not that day - I'm taking charge, one step at a time. \nI pat my top pocket and look to the sky. 'I'll do my best' I whisper, and step inside." ]	8
	[WP] With a lot of bluff, I've managed to survive this urban fantasy nightmare for a week despite being a completely vanilla human. That is, until I slipped, and did what I swore I wouldn't: I asked a question which has an answer that even their children know.	[ " Blood, the colour of life. It paints me a sullen picture, throbbing against the celling of my skull. I know nothing. I am nothing. Blood, I release it from my empty shell with a swift slice, swinging my head backwards and breaking the silence in a rush. A tickle of sorts. \n\nBlood, the children will know me by their attraction, by the push inside their belly. The one that makes them look at the drop from a high place, the one that leans in on you and says JUMP, jump, Jump and there will be blood. \n\nI see the small dog and it makes me angry, I have an urge. I stomp on it's back but it does not die ,, it squirms and screams, almost louder then she. Her head rolls and stops against the curb. I take the leash and then, Blood. A murmur, a gentle push. \n\nI am also dying, my blood spills, I share it with the world, I have not secrets, like these monkeys, I do not hide, I do not fear, I am full of love. Compassion. Love. Compassion. Blood.", "I could only hear the pounding of my erratic pulse in my ears as I crashed through the bush, only slowing down to look back at the two smaller figures following behind me. Looking back to the path before me, winding and dipping with old deadwood and undergrowth, I cut a loose path huffing and wheezing toward some sort of safety that just had to be there. \n\n\nSpotting something to our left I veered in that direction finding an old cabin that had seen better times, but it would do. Forcefully throwing my shoulder into the door a couple times, the old frame cracked and the door gave way, swinging violently inside. \"Come on, quick!!\" I shouted, the adrenaline the only thing keeping me moving, motivated. The two small girls with their awful wheezing, shot inside and the smallest fell into a despairing pile on the dirty floor, entirely spent. The older of the two, she was thirteen, helped me to move some of the old dusty furniture to block the broken door. I could hear them still, outside, waiting and wanting for us. But they didn't claw at the door or windows, maybe they were in as bad shape as us. Yeah right.\n\n\nFinally, after we finished shoving the entire living area against the door and windows in this room, we found ourselves feeling safe enough to calm down. Sliding down the wall furthest from the door, I breathed hard and fast puffs, trying desperately to catch my stolen breath. My head bumped back against the wall, my bedraggled ponytail shifting uncomfortably to the side. Normally I would care enough to fix it, but those days were long gone. I had much bigger worries than a sensitive scalp these days.\n\n\nI had been on the run for about a week now. Terrified of anything and everything that creeps and crawls and spits and sprawls in the darkness. I couldn't sleep for three days, I could feel their stares on me, their hungry mouth chomping just inches from my back whenever I wasn't looking, I felt like I was going mad. \n\n\nOn the third night my body finally gave in, and I slept in a farmer's field, the long grass offering me a false sense of safety and solitude. I awoke to them in the wee hours of the morning, all broken teeth and mangled skin and dead eyes that searched mine for signs of what they craved: life. It was mine and they wanted it, and I ran for it. \n\n\nFours days into the infection, I found a family, a nice farming family that quickly took in that starving and dirty woman that was trying to desperately to catch one of their chickens. The next two days showed me I could be happy again, maybe we could wait this out and our lives could return to normal. But my hopes were dashed when a herd of them attacked us in the night. \n\n\nWe all crowded around the back window, trying to quickly leave in a frenzied mess, I went through the window the their two daughters follwed after me. I could have helped them, maybe saved them as those monsters stormed the room. They overtook the farmer and his wife, and I fled from the house with their two daughters, too cowardly and disgusting to try and save them. \n\n\nTheir fearful faces, and screams haunted my every waking moment, my hesitation and cowardice had gotten the best of me, and had failed them. And their girls.\n\nBitter tears stung in my eyes as I hung my head in my hands, a frustrated cry left my lips as I sobbed into my own dirty hands. I could feel the two girls staring at me, their only pillar of hope slowly crumbling before their eyes. I looked to them with my messy hair and puffy eyes, and searched their expressions, and I found a mirror of my own despairing self looking back and judging me.\n\n\"W-Was I wrong to leave them? Your ma and pa...\" I choked out, ashamed of my own small and trembling voice.\n\nThe oldest watched my pitied form before looking away. \"...I don't know.\" \n\nI looked to the smaller girl, still piled in a heap, silently weeping.\n\nLooking back up, I could feel that burning question slowly rising up my throat like bile, the question that I had denied myself to think about, let alone answer. But here I was at the mercy of these girls and my own troubled conscience, and I couldn't help it when those spilled like bile from my mouth.\n\n\"Are we...are we any better than they are?\"\n\nThere was no shocked expression from either girl, they had been pondering this question themselves as we cut down people that were once just like us. They were not human any more, but they were. Just as we were.\n\n\"No. I don't think so.\" \n\nThis was all the answer I needed, finally for what felt like months I felt renewed and alive. I knew how to atone.\n\nI stood with a small smile and headed toward the door. \"There's a small town northward, that's where I was heading, but things have changed. I can't go with you anymore. I have to make this right, we'll never get there unless I lead them away. If you leave now and don't stop running you can hopefully make it before it gets dark. Take my pack, it has food a compass and a map from your place. You can read a compass right?\"\n\nThe oldest girl nodded and took my things, having stood while I was rambling.\n\n\"Good. Now go through the back door and quickly but quietly make your way North, I don't know if there's anything left up there, but it's your best chance. Don't come back here no matter what you hear.\"\n\nThe two girls departed after I embraced them for the last time. I watched them from the back door of the cabin. \"Goodbye...\" I'm so, so sorry.\n\nTurning back into the dreary home, I locked the back door and walked with new purpose to the front door. Peeling away the furniture layer by layer until only that cracked door stood between me and my fate. Taking a deep breath, I pulled the knob inwards and let it swing wide open. Immediately I was bowled over, hungry mouths gnashing dangerously at my face as the deadened eyes of the farmer and his wife gazed back into mine. They saw my life, and I would give it to them willingly, for I would not run anymore, and this would make everything right again. \n\nI could feel them tearing into me as I slipped away, the pain faded, replaced by something I never thought that I would feel again: I felt *alive.*" ]	2
	[WP] - While committing suicide through jumping from a high building, only a few meters before crashing into the ground, time stops, for everything except your mind.	[ "The wind rushed through my hair as I saw the windows pass by me rapidly, barely able to keep open my eyes. I should have felt a release, soon my torment would be over, but all I felt was regret, like throwing a dice when trying to choose between 2 options made you realise what you liked before you saw the results, this time I chose wrong, again.\n\nI panicked, I tried everything to reverse course, but gravity was a stone hard reality, moments before the pavement hit me, everything froze, I couldn't move. I tried screaming, I felt like I wanted to cry but no tears fell. That's when I noticed her, the girl I didn't deserve, she was holding her hand to cover her mouth, black streaks on her face as the mascara was leaking. I've been a fool.\n\nWith everything I had I tried to find a way out, while my unmoving eyes couldn't focus on her, all I wanted to scream was \"Stacy I lo-", "I closed my eyes when I jumped. I could hear the noise of the city, smell the pollution, feel gravity pulling me against the updraft. Then everything stopped. I couldn't hear the noise, smell anything, or feel anything.\n\nI thought I was dead. Wouldn't you? But I gradually realized that this wasn't any \"afterlife\" I had ever heard of. Paralyzed, but still feeling upside down, still seeing the glow of noon through the blood vessels in closed eyelids. \n\nWell shit. What just happened? Jesus Christ and all the gods above, I couldn't even commit suicide right. I decided to wait. Surely I would hit the ground soon.\n\nMaybe I wouldn't. Was this death? Damn all those religious nutbags, spouting about afterlife. I never believed them, but if this is the afterlife, frozen right before death, then none of them got it right anyways.\n\nI didn't want to be able to think anymore. That's why I jumped in the first place. If I wanted to still be able to think about my ex-wife, my bankruptcy, getting fired, then I wouldn't have jumped. I thought death was the end.\n\nAfter a while, I realized that I wasn't going to be able to sleep, either. This was it, wasn't it? The end. Like a story. No more growth for the characters, just frozen where we last saw them.\n\nThe afterlife isn't an epilogue. It just... is. Where you last were." ]	2
	[WP] Take a genre/story type known for its twists, and play it completely straight.	[ "The crack of thunder woke me up, causing me a mild bit of panic before I could calm down and remember where I was. My bedroom, and according to the clock on the table nearby, 2 am.\n\nI lay in bed, listening to the storm roar around me, the various sounds of nature in her fury... and slowly, above the din and ruckus, I began to feel as though I weren't alone, that I wasn't the only one listening to this tempest.\n\nI stood up, wrapping the blanket around my shoulders to ward off the chill, and made my way slowly over to the window, my heart beginning to jackhammer again.\n\nKer-crash! A sudden boom, and a burst of light, and what was outside my window was brightly lit up. I fell backwards, screaming into the pitch room.\n\nI slowly stood up, feeling a little sheepish that a bit of lightning could scare me so. A grown man, shrieking at lightning.\n\nDusting off my pajama bottoms, I decided that I was just freaking out and having a small paranoia attack... after all, when you live in a large house in the woods, the slightest thing can set you off. I decided to go into the kitchen and have a snack, to settle my rattled nerves. I opened my door, then paused, my head cocked curiously to the side.\n\nCreak. Creak. Creak. I could hear that repetitive beat now that my bedroom door was open. Perhaps merely the sound of the storm and my house settling, but I knew that noise well... every time I went out back, that low, drawn out creak would greet me from the door.\n\nI stood at the head of the stairs, peering down dismally into the pitch black, trying to see if there was anything there. My hand shot out to the switch, trying to toggle it... alas, nothing. The power, it would seem, was out.\n\nI slowly began to make my way down, each foot of progress on the stairs a louder creak than the one before, shrilly announcing my alert presence to anyone who might be in the house. I also began to smell a dank odor, tangy and acidic, reminescent of blood...\n\nIt was about halfway down the stairs that I realized suddenly I was no longer alone, and caught the glistening sheen of nocturnally adjusted eyes in the dark, before they noticed me as well and rushed up the stairs at a loping, frenetic pace.\n\nI was tackled and thrown to the ground, my head slamming against the step behind me, as the creature panted heavily into my face.\n\n\"Je- Je- Jesus Christ, Nabisco.\" I stammered out, pushing my dog away gently, gasping to catch my breath. He whined piteously, reminding me that I wasn't the only one terrified by the storm, and chiding me for not taking my proper place as the human of the house. I slowly stood back up, rubbing the back of my head, detecting the slight damp and tang of blood from my impact.\n\nI reached the bottom uneventfully, not aware I was holding my breath until I heard a sharp exhalation, and realized it was me. Nabisco chuffed, also releasing his breath, and I decided that I was acting rather foolishly.\n\n\"Who'd break into this old run down hut, eh, Nabi?\" I scratched his ear, and he gratefully pounded his foot a few times in appreciation. \"Let's just go back upstairs and cuddle under the blanket, you can sleep on the bed with me tonight, you big spook.\"\n\nI turned to head back up the stairs, the mutt behind me, glancing over his shoulders. He stopped on the first step, looking out towards the kitchen, his tail down. He whined.\n\nI froze in place, wishing I had a flashlight or something similar with me, staring piercingly into the black in the same general direction as my dog. I couldn't see anything, but... Nabisco let out a sudden, clipped bark, before bounding up the steps and cowering behind me.\n\nI had to decide on what to do, and after a static moment, I found myself slowly stepping back down onto the carpet, tiptoeing towards the kitchen with my faithful animal creeping behind me, the two of us an almost grotesque parody of Scooby Doo.\n\nThe kitchen was slightly brighter than the rest of the house, I observed as I slipped around the corner of the hall. A dim, flickering light that kept flitting in and out... my mouth was dry, and I forced myself to gulp so I could breathe again without whistling.\n\nNabisco had taken point, I saw, emboldened by my inaction to slip up to the doorframe, where he was cowering and peeking around repeatedly. He glanced over at me, released a low hiss that was an octave or two too high for a whine, and I raised a finger to my lips to shush him. He backed away, which I took as my cue to step forward.\n\nThe dank, acidic smell greeted my nose even more strongly here, though I still couldn't quite place the familiarity of it. I finally gathered my courage, and jumped around the corner, my arms raised and a knife I hadn't even noticed grabbing clenched firmly in my hands.\n\nThe small raccoon sitting on the table took one look at me, chirruped in shock, then fled out the open back door. As his tail brushed against it, it swung open one more time - creak - then a gust caught it and slammed it shut.\n\nI stood in the room, still posed like a madman, strugglingly drawing in breath after breath before a pent up chuckle escaped me. I sat down at the table, bursting into laughter, and noticed the man across from me sit down as well, a knife clenched firmly in his hand as he joined my relieved laughter.\n\nShit! After a blanching moment where I nearly passed out, I reflected on how stupid a decision putting a mirrored refrigerator in the kitchen was, and dully dropped the knife. The man in the mirror dropped his as well.\n\nI sat back in the chair, wheezing, and taking in all the little things that had freaked me out, and putting an explanation to them.\n\nI had forgotten to latch the door, which was why it was swinging open and shut in this storm. My puppy, intent now on stalking the raccoon now that the threat was assessed, slipped out the hinged doggy door and into the pouring rain. He'd be back with the next crack of thunder, I was sure.\n\nThe stench filling the air, which I had assumed might be blood, was actually just the natural gas leaking from my stovetop, which I had clearly forgotten to turn off as well when I came in from my hunt this evening, well intent on skinning my catch and cooking it on the spot before exhaustion overwhelmed me.\n\nEven the flickering light in the room was explained by the pilot, still flicking and fighting several hours after I left it on, trying to stay upright and lit against the pressurized rush behind it. And now, with the door shut, even that was stabilizing, turning into a steadily burning and expanding -\n\nOh shit! Was my last thought before my house exploded.", "We met at a trivia night during college. I was really drunk and hot and he offered me some ice to go with my beer. \n\nWhen I looked up to thank him, I saw a pair of delicate dark eyes which contrasted beautifully against his tanned skin. I smiled. He smiled back. \n\nMoments later, he left the room.\n\nThrought the night, I couldn't stop thinking about those eyes. \nLater that week, I was finally able to get his number. When I called, a female voice, in a high pitch, shouted\n\n-\"OMG who is this? Pizza guy?\"\n\nI didn't say anything, moved on, and got a PhD in Psychology\n", "\bThe case has ended and so did my agent life. The Chief just took my gun, my agent id my pride away. \n\n\"I'm sorry Blake. I can't help you.\" Nick said, escorting me out of the building. However, when I said farewell to him as he moved closer and discreetly put his gun in my hand. \"I trust your guts. Take this and call me when you come up with something.\" He whispered before we separated.\n\nI didn't.\n\nI kept the gun and reported to The Chief the next day, and Nick was suspended for giving a fully loaded gun to a civilian.\n\nAbout a week after, I watched the terrorists burnt down The White House in the news, while sipping an Iced-cold beer on the beach of California, giving no fuck whatsoever.", "“James if you walk out that door, then we’re done. There’s no going back.” Jessica said, tears in her eyes to her now ex-fiancé. James hesitated with his hand on the door. Could he go back? Was this problem fixable? He turned toward Jessica with his answer.\n\n“I’m sorry Jessica. I just can’t do this anymore.” Jessica’s lip trembled, and James left before she burst into tears.\n\n“Phew, man, so glad I dodged that bullet.” James said, as Jessica’s wails become audible through the door. As James reached the car his best friend called.\n\n“James, did you do it?” She asked.\n\n“Yeah, me and Jessica are through.” I reply.\n\n“I’m so sorry James.” She says.\n\n“It had to happen.” I say. “We just weren’t meant for each other.\n\n“Well, if you need to talk about it I’ll be here for you this weekend. Do you want to get coffee?” She asked.\n\n“That’s very thoughtful of you.” I say. “But I’ll have to decline. I’m actually really looking forward to having some alone time.”\n\n“Um, okay.” My best friend replies. “If you change your mind I’m always here for you James.” She says.\n\n“Cool, thanks, I really appreciate having you as a friend.” I reply, and then hang up the phone.\n\nThat weekend I have an amazing time in my wood working shop finishing up a beautiful cedar table. I’ve just learned a new carving technique to inlay a chess board in the middle of it. During the final polishing steps Jessica calls me up.\n\n“Hey, James, I’ve thought a lot about what you said, and you’re right, maybe we aren’t right for each other.” She says.\n\n“I’m glad you feel that way.” I say. “Closure is a good thing.”\n\n“I think so, would you feel comfortable coming by later today to do this in person?” She asks.\n\n“Nah, I’m really just fine now. You take care now Jessica.” I say.\n\n“Um, okay.” She says awkwardly.\n\n“Bye.” I say.\n\nJames spent the rest of his life being single and pursuing a flourishing handmade carpentry career." ]	4
	[WP] None of my submissions in /r/WritingPromts ever get responded to. Write about the outcome when I am forced to make drastic decisions to get the attention of this sub.	[ "\"Sir, you need to see this.\" A young man sitting at a console motioned to an older gentlemen. He brought up a few others screens. Each one linking back to other information. \n\nThe older gentlemen leaned over the man, \"What is it Private Miller?\"\n\n\"Ah, sir, this here.\" Miller navigated to the first screen, \"This user here on a site called reddit. He is making very bold allegations about the current state of fairs in multiple countries. There has been traffic from some of the contenders, sir.\"\n\n\"Which contenders?\"\n\n\"The big ones, sir. If this continues, well sir, it could get bad.\" The young private surfed through multiple screens. \"Do I have clearence to send this address to SWAT, sir?\"\n\nThe older gentleman looked at the screens as they flew past. Information was whizzing by. He understood most of it. There were big guns in play. \"Do it.\"\n\nThe younger man leaned to the satellite phone, exposing the screen. He shook his head. How did people constantly miss these terrorist trolls...\n\n[WP] You are trapped in an attack, explain the how and who done it. Be detailed. ", "\"Holy shit. Did he really just do that?\" the man murmured.\n\nEveryone stared at the moon the illuminated the night sky, and saw letters carved into it. These weren't any letters, though. Those letters spelled out a link, a link that led to a post on Reddit in the subreddit /r/writingprompts. It was simply titled, \"[WP] None of my submissions in /r/WritingPrompts ever get responded to. Write about the outcome when I am forced to make drastic decisions to get the attention of this sub.\"\n\n\"This guy made a typo!\" someone shouted.\n\nThe man sighed and said, \"You messed up real bad, /u/YungRobbin. Real bad.\"\n\nWhen /u/YungRobbin returned to Earth he was beaten by a large mob that was chanting, \"You made a typo! You Made a typo!\" before being arrested and thrown into solitary confinement. Seven days later he died from internal bleeding suffered from his injuries.\n\nThe link would remain on the moon for eons, even after the end of the internet and the extinction of mankind. The beings that would come after us would write stories, fables, and myths about the link's meaning, but none of them would ever discover the truth.\n\n/u/YungRobbin had created a legacy of stupidity that would remain until the explosion of Sol. If only he had fixed that typo. . ." ]	2
You may be familiar with this: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Voynich_manuscript	[WP] The Voynich Manuscript is finally deciphered and reveals its unexpected real origin and age. The world is stunned by what the manuscript says.	[ "An unusual centerfold dominated the screen as the slideshow clunked into action. Intricate patterns of strangely rendered designs swirled over tatty paper. The speaker, who was far from the stuffy old linguist I expected, clipped a microphone to her blouse and introduced herself as the title slide reading Voynich Manuscript Decoded flashed into view.\n\nIt wasn't what the extraterrestrial enthusiasts had hoped, or the formula for the philosophers stone the alchemy fans were holding their breath for, but honestly anyone who expected that was just asking for disappointment. Then again I guess reality can have it's own set of twists. \n\nI admit I was shocked reading the next slide, Enigmatic Coded Book Actually First Fan Fiction. I mean, there were a lot of illustrations of naked women, but I suppose like everyone else I thought they symbolized stars or goddesses. Nope, just erotic fan art. \n\nApparently the whole text mixed public figures with characters from popular literature of the time. It read like The Canterbury Tales meets The Perfumed Garden all disguised as a scientific text. It even had it's very own Mary Sue. Whoever wrote this thing was certainly a connoisseur of racy literature, but was also most likely a novice apprentice at his monastery. It explained the armature look of the renderings, and the desire to hide the true nature of its contents. \n\nI'd venture to say, especially in the dullness of a monastery, it was understandable that writing the sordid tales of a wild pansy's trysts with a maidenhair fern was a reasonable diversion. As the presentation wound down my mind wondered, mostly to the speaker and if she might be interested in some reasonable diversion after the presentation, but also to what kind of erotic fiction that would make. ", "I don't think I really knew what I expected when I first started to try to decode the manuscript. \n\nLike so many overenthusiastic cryptography grad students before me, I'd looked into the manuscript and it's history and decided that I was smart enough to do what everyone before me had failed to do and decode it, finally breaking the code of one of the most famous and irrelevant mysteries in my field.\n\nI think my professor chuckled a bit when I told him what my latest project was going to be, but he dutifully sent over a copy of the manuscript and a few links to previously established pieces of work done on it. He also sent me the email address of one of the other students already doing work on it, a guy called David Cho.\n\nCho told me he'd been working on the manuscript for more than a year. He was happy to have a partner but made it clear to me that our chances of a breakthrough were bleak. People much smarter than us had gone for much longer than us without decoding a single word. Modern consensus was that it was either gibberish or in a dead language. \n\nNevertheless, I'd resolved to solve this mystery, so I got to work looking for patterns in the text. Nothing. I explored theories and projects done in the past on minute details of the text, looked for correlates in the pictures of the book, even tried to fit in parts of the physical text with what was written inside of it. Still nothing. I cracked out notes going back as far as high school, followed every possible lead with every possible standpoint I could imagine, even visualised how eighteen year old me fresh into college with no prior experience would have gone about dealing with this. Nothing, nada, niente. This went on for months, with no progress. Yet I could feel it, hovering just out of my perception, something which would let me crack this thing. \n\nMy breakthrough came after staying awake for three days straight chasing down what would turn out to be a dead end. After almost succumbing to despair and passing out right then, I decided to reapply my theory using lexical information from different languages. And I started to get results. I was so excited, I spent five whole hours translating the whole language into english. I tried my cipher on a random page and it worked! The page described the illustrated plant in terms I could understand. Ecstatic, I emailed my whole work to Cho and my professor, then fell asleep for ten hours straight.\n\nWhen I woke up I had a voicemail message on my phone. I answered groggily and heard Cho's voice coming over the line. He sounded panicked. He told me to check my inbox, then send my notes to a safe place and run. After that the line went dead. Spooked, I opened my email and started to read what he sent me. I could understand why he was so scared. Cho had translated parts of the manuscript which described the ruling of humans from an alien standpoint, detailing certain events and disasters that had to occur to keep us occupied and allow the aliens to 'harvest' us. Cho had dated these events, to the very day that they happened. \n\nAt the bottom of the mail he had posted a link to a news site, which was giving up to date information on a accident which happened less than three hours ago. A gas leak in the university which had killed my professor, a large chunk of the senior staff of the cryptography department, and a number of reporters who were attending my professor's 'secret reveal' press conference. That was when my blood ran cold. \n\nThis is why I've sent this message to you. Take my notes, copy and back them up, then run. They're coming." ]	2
	[WP] You are the retired 5th horseman. You predate all the rest, in fact you used to do this Job alone. After a millenia, finding your influence decayed and stagnant in Purgatory, you lay plans for your return to the cosmic stage. Someone isn't happy about that.	[ "The world has been long divided, its boundaries made clear through a union as transient and fragile as even my own existence. Though famine will persist, and plague will always be, and war will never change, and death greets us all in the end, the battle of world dominance has long come to truce. \n\nAnd yet I wake, hungry, screaming for the rite to call me back into existence. The symbol of the pact made when life first began, when creatures fought merely for the right to live. The pact of strife, the understanding that to live is to wage an eternal battle. Life is a hunger of the self and for the self. To become as a disease among others. To infect them with and to be infected with hatred. A war of the body, mind, and soul against all who would oppose you. And a death of the one whose desire was not sufficient.\n\nFrom the first pulse of this world to its last, I have existed, though the need for my symbol has waned. My effigy, the essence of my being, has passed to four others who know not who I am and care not who I am. They are weak, sheltered, believing themselves gods of human misery, when human misery was etched in stone eons before humankind ever took its first blind steps from the mouth of potential.\n\nThe lines have long been drawn, a ward upon my power, a net to hold me down. These lines persist for as long as humanity's union remains, weak though it may be. But a man, a madman to all others, has decided to sever a line, to send his army to cross it. It is small, this weakening of my chains, but even now I can feel the strings of fate stir, the heart of man yearning for my presence. A plea to return to the discord of years past.\n\nOh dearest Famine, Pestilence, War, and Death. You may think this is your time of glory, a feast of abominations, the final act of human misery, but it is not so. While this may cause famine, while pestilence may run rampant, while war may decimate, and while death may reap for ages...\n\n...The final act of Conquest has begun.", "Ronnie Soak had not expected today's surprise turn of events.\n\nOh, the job was fine, milk went to every one's home at 9:am sharp. Fresh and chilled. He had yet to receive a complaint.\n\nAfter yet another delivery, he had been having some bubble and squeak at the local greasy spoon near his last stop in Quirm, when in walked a man.\n\n----\n\nThe man felt both strange and familiar. He had never seen the man's face, but that didn't matter, he know who he was. But he wan't... all there, and that was strange.\n\nNary a sniffle around, but the man seemed ill. He dismounted his white bicycle and chained it to a pipe next to Ronnie's milk cart, and sat in a corner, waiting for service.\n\nRonnie approached him, wary.\n\n\"Pestie, that you?\"\n\nPestie looked up, in weak surprise.\n\n\"K- Ronnie?\"\n\n\"Pestie, what...\" Ronnie couldn't believe it.\n\n\"Got fired. What are you doing here?\"\n\n\"Getting some bubble and squeak, but never mind that! Fired how, who?\"\n\n\"By whom, ronnie.\"\n\n\"Answer the damn question!\"\n\n\"The A- the grey suits. They found me... redundant\"\n\n\"How does that even work! It's a quartet!\"\n\n\"The quartet is still there, they replaced me with Polly\"\n\n\"POLLY? All she does is go around spewing rubbish!\"\n\n\"New age, new times. A new team for a new era\"\n\n\"What about the others?\"\n\n\"I've had no contact with them. But I think they will be found... redundant soon\"\n\n\"But-\"\n\n\"Ronnie, take it from me, while you have been vacationing, they have been replacing the team. Infact, I wouldn't be surprised they sent you the pink slip too-\"\n\n\"THEY WOULDN'T DARE\"\n\n\"- I mean, if there is any one that's redundant, it's you, Ronnie.\"\n\nThat stung. But it was true.\n\n\"I'll go talk to the Big Guy himself...\"\n\n\"Give it up Ronnie, what do you care? You like to sell milk anyways. Besides, your word has no worth there, you have been on vacation too long. I'd not be surprised if they didn't even recognise you.\"\n\nThis gave Ronnie pause. He had been vacationing too long. There was a time when he handled the job alone. Now...\n\nWhat if they tried to give him the pink slip? Could they actually do it?\n\nThe consequence would be disastrous! Worse still, without his authority, others could even encroach on his milk market!\n\nTHIS WOULD NOT STAND! No one was touching his fresh and chilled milk, delivered 9 am sharp.\n\n\"I'm going Pestie, I'll not stand this.\"\n\nAnd He left in a huff. He WILL knock at those gates.\n\n----\n\nHad he stayed behind, he would have seen Pestie chuckling. \n\nThe Auditors would NOT be happy to see Ronnie, it was their antithesis, the Chaos to their Order, both literally and figuratively their antonym\n\nWhoever lost, Pestie was getting his revenge. He would NOT be made redundant. \n\nSome one sneezed, and this made Pestie's grin wider. He called for service.\n\n----\n----\n\n^(With apologies to PTerry)", "Back when Death was only Decay, and barely sentient, and I was alone and young, banging together the building blocks of the universe to see what would happen, I accidentally created Life and bought Death's transformation into being. Because of this, he has always treated me with respect. Still, his ceaseless nature has led him further and further from me as eternity has unspooled ahead of us, and I find myself becoming still, becoming less relevant to the cosmos than the newcomers who obsess over their tiny playground.\n\nI did my job too well. When Death approached me, and asked for a stable galaxy, I didn't know how much work it would entail, but I was intrigued. Applying limits to myself, working within a structure, these were new things and I excelled. When sentient mortals emerged, I was congratulated and invited to watch as their turbulent world heaved around them. Still, that work was done. The world was made in my image, but I was forced to watch from the sidelines as Famine and Pestilence roamed my handiwork, and Death rode behind them.\n\nI was a game-changer, and they did not want me near their planet of souls.\n\nCatastrophe.\n\nI could collapse stars, deaden the surface of planets; even at my most skilful and subtle, I was a phenomenal presence. They wanted my afterglow, the tsunamis and earthquakes, the tornados and hurricanes. From time to time I would send a meteor over the horizon and feel their approbation. \n\nIt was War who approached me. It was War they sent.\n\nI felt the familiar excitement of uncreation in the hard grin he gave me. We share a nature, War and I, although we have nothing practical in common. Death always treated me respectfully, but Death does not understand me. If he did, he would not have chosen War as his diplomat.\n\nThey did not want me to unmake the world of mortals. I was not invited to play.\n\nInstead they wanted me to contain their present sun far beyond the age it was expected to attain, while the humans expanded their reach. I was asked to increase their safe territory, to expand a network of safe systems until they were in their grasp. I heard War's request, the eagerness in his voice, when he spoke of the overflow of humanity into space, but I responded to his nature, not his words.\n\nIf they are asking me to disobey the laws that bind these universes together, if they are giving me leave to ignore the physics, then it won't be to calm a dying star.\n\nI will unmake the cosmos, and see what happens.\n", "The screams started to get closer with each passing second. I could smell the burning meat. A moment later, an old man rushed beside us. Each time he stepped on the floor, the floor turned into fire, burning and melting his skin, only to be healed between steps and scorched against the floor again. \n\n“Keep running, you’re almost there, trust me!”, I yelled at him. I could feel Virgil’s disapproving stare beside me. The man became smaller as he got further away, then a silhouette, and then disappeared in the horizon. “You would expect someone on the last terrace to know better.”\n\n“The more you let yourself fall into a sin, the greater the punishment. It is not until you are completely cleansed that you understand what purgatory means.” Virgil turned to me. You could see in his eyes that he had seen more than he would have liked to see, but such was his duty as a guide. He had led the worst scum history has ever seen through purgatory, and he did it with care and dedication. Though he had lost all his hair, and you could see that the ages had weighed on him, he was always excellent in everything he did. Even his robe was as white as the sky, and that is quite an acomplishment for someone who exists in purgatory. \n\nVirgil gave me that look that could only mean another lecture was on the way. “You must-”\n\n“Yeah, yeah, I know. You must not hide your sins from God. You think I do not know that? I’ve been ‘retired’ here longer than you have existed, Virgil.”\n\n“And yet, here you are, carrying that enormous boulder on your back, sharing the same space as those who did not accept God’s forgiveness. You know the reason why purgatory exists. You fail to understand why you are in it.” I could see a subtle grin.\n\n“What I don’t understand is why he created them. I was doing fine, and I didn’t need any help. I alone am worthy thousands of their like. Why must I share my place with them? It’s an insult! Would you share your table with a cockroach?!” The boulder on my back felt heavier than usual. \n\n“God has a plan for everyone. Even for them. And even for you. And would you really expect him to welcome your idea? You used your gift on them. You tried to turn them against each other, for heaven’s sake!” \n\n“I know what they’re capable of. I wanted Him to see them as they really are: power-hungry, suicidal lunatics. If it weren’t because of God’s love for Humanity, the would destroy everything just to prove which one is stronger.\" \n\n“Until you accept your place in His plan, you’ll remain here in penitence.”\n\n“I alreay have. How many times have I yelled at the sky, asking Him to accept me back?!” The pain of the boulder digging into my back and the anger were starting to mix together inside me. I used to be divine! I rode through the planes of existence, saw the rise and downfall of entire species. Now, I’m reduced to… this. I missed my freedom. And above all, I missed my horse.\n\n“You have not shown repentance. You merely grew tired of your load. You cannot fool Him.” Virgil smiled like a teacher would smile at his inexperienced student. Only that in this case, the student was eons older than the teacher.\n\n“I… am tired, Virgil. After millenia, I remain in the first terrace, while I get to see lesser…”, the boulder grew heavier, “…souls get cleansed and ascend.” I dropped to my knees. I knew it was time. “I’ve had enough of this.”\n\n“Have you finally…”\n\n“No, Virgil” I interrupted him. “I know I am right. God is too busy with Humanity to pay attention to the details. I know what they are capable of. I know what they are planning. God might not believe me, but I know someone who will at least listen to me.”\n\n“What do you-”\n\n“Lucifer!” I yelled out with all my strength. “I have a deal for you!”\n\n“Are you insane?!” I had never seen Virgil so angry. But I didn’t care anymore. I was tired. And I was running out of time. \n\n“Lucifer, I know you hear me!” I knew he was listening. He had been close by since I stepped on purgatory. \n\nI could feel the tremor in the air. It was not unusual for that to happen; everytime a soul ascended, it was expected for the ground to shake. But this time, it was different. It was not the ground that shook. It was everything else that was shaking. And in the blink of an eye, there it was.\n\n“I was wondering how much you would last.” A woman stood in front of me. Her beauty could’ve fueled entire wars. She could convince a man to kill his mother just with a look (and she had done so several times in the past). A beauty so terrible and so great that any man would immediately offer his heart out of love and fear. None of these traits, however, interested me.\n\n“Begone, you traitor!”, yelled Virgil with as much faith and courage as he could find within. “Begone fro…”, his expression changed to one filled with fear as the woman approached him.\n\n“Shhh…” She slowly put her index finger on the old man’s lips. They were suddenly sealed together, as if he had never had anything between his nose and his chin. “You’re ruining my entrance.” She turned to me and looked me straight into my eyes. “As I was saying…”\n\n“Leave him alone”. Virgil had been patient and had made my stay in purgatory an easier burden to carry, and I didn’t enjoy seeing him like that.\n\nThe woman laughed, and clicked her fingers. Virgil’s mouth reappeared, and he fell on his back. \n\n“Your work is done”, I said to my former guide. “You are no longer needed. Oh, don’t be so surprised. You should’ve known better.” I let me boulder fall to the ground, and everything shook once more. Virgil looked at the boulder, then at the woman, and then at me. I could sense his fear. “Run, human. Run!” My voice echoed through the empty space like thunder before the brewing storm.\n\n“This is going too far. You are crossing a line that…”\n\n“Yeah, whatever. See ya!” The woman clicked her fingers again, and in an instant, she and I were no longer in purgatory. \nThe smell of sulfur was intoxicating. I was still getting used to the darkness, when I heard her voice.\n\n“You said you had a deal. Tell me, rider, what’s on your mind? What do you want?”\n\n“Right now, one thing: my horse.”\n\n“That I can provide, rider of the apocalypse. But of all things, that is all you want?”\n\n“Just call me Deception. And no, I will need many things from you. But you, of all beings, should know that Deception is nothing without Desire.”", "I am a wasted, skeletal giant. The tendons in my jaw crack, dislodging the dust and grit of eons. The hunger, once sated, has returned. With a crack of cosmic pain, my ancient vault is rent asunder and I cast it back into the primal stuff of the universe.\n\nI soar from my prison, my haven, my tomb. Mankind, the ape-kin so special in the grand scheme that the Creator personified the harbingers of their end. Too long, I realize, have I slumbered in self-satisfaction. Their warships ply the spaces between stars. Their armies march to the beat of ten million clarion calls, spread across ten thousand worlds. They have stepped into the unknown and they have conquered it.\n\nThey have forgotten Fear. They can no longer recall what it is to recoil as night encroaches, to soil themselves helplessly at the sound of the distant apex predator. War fuels their conflicts, Famine devours those left in the wake of them. Pestilence ravages the cosmos with almost childish glee - And Death awaits the leavings of all three. Still, for all of my shrouded brother's gluttony, my hunger will always be the greater.\n\nMan stands unified, soaring upon the wings of idealism. Lives are given gladly to ensure that utopia becomes a reality - - This cannot stand. I am winged, and I am leonine. I am Hades and Hel, beast and serpent, onrushing darkness and towering pillars of hellish smoke. I am behemoth and Leviathan both. My minions wake, and the galaxy trembles beneath their incorporeal tread.\n\nAt my side, two riders emerge on steeds of sickeningly bright light. This is the too-pure sheen that drives men before it, breaking their minds upon the anvil of their own innermost weaknesses. Terror and Dread, my eternal Lieutenants, stand ready to subjugate the race of man at my side once more.\n\nI am Fear, and I will drag mankind back into the clutches of wind-lashed cave mouths and guttering fires. Even as the realm between realms is sundered at my command, I feel the fury of my erstwhile kin. They will oppose this course, I know. To see their playthings dragged screaming back to the surface of a single spinning rock will humble and enrage them. The wishes of my brethren are nothing to me, and I smile my grim smile. I am the Lord of Night, and I will not be denied.", "FUCKING AMATEURS! Forcing me to retire. I was doing my job as soon as this pitiful plain exploded into existence. They had one task each and they are being beat by some creatures that wallow around in mud. They were too aggressive the fools no concept of patience, No tact! Famine was the first to go. Those humans adapt quickly I'll give them that only took them a few thousand years, but now starvation is slowly being eradicated. Pestilence seems to have been knocked off his pony as well. Diseases are being cured almost as fast as the fool can think of them. Lets not forget about War. War never changes and that's his problem. That ass has been trying the same schtick since he started. Now the humans crave peace. Democracy and respect of what their new weapons can do. Soon I think those hairless apes will be done with War entirely. \n Death that self assured prick, My son. I taught him all that he knows, he had so much promise, so much so that he was appointed lead of the other three. He is still at large I taught him well. However I sense his stride slackening in pace. I think that in another thousand years or two he too might fall. I on the other hand play on a larger scale. Those 4 upstarts have tried holding me back so they could have all the glory, but now that they are falling I am back, and mankind as well as everything else will learn to respect me. I am Entropy, I am the slow destruction of all things, I am the decay that eats at the very universe itself and it is time I got back to work. All things will learn to fear me, but by then it will be too late.", "I'm sure you've heard of them. War, Famine, Pestilence, Death. The Four Thrice-be-Damned Horsemen of the Apocalypse. No one ever remembers me. \n\nWho am I? Take a guess? Hm?\n\n...\n\nThat's what I thought. My name is Conquest. I was in the original quartet. But then a certain someone took my place. Pestilence. Oh that accursed Pestilence, when everyone forgot about me, he replaced me. I became trapped inside him, forgotten to most of the world. I am far more important than him. I have triumphed over everything there ever was, but I could not conquer their memories... But I will return! I have filed my permit with God, and soon I will be back!\n\n**\n\nFive men sat in a dark, small room. It was nice and simple, a wooden desk, and five chairs. A glowing entity sat at the head of the table, four others occupying the rest. The entity sighed and spoke.\n\n\"Your brethren wishes to replace Pestilence, or at least join your ranks. What do you say?\"\n\n\"Please.\" Death scoffed. Death was old. Very old, and thin, but he carried himself like a king. He walked and talked with his back straight, he kept his pale hair well-groomed. He continued, \"Conquest was useless from the start, War was basically the same, he fought, he won. Conquest simply was the person who 'won' things. He debated, he made bets, but as far as I'm concerned, he's best left gone.\"\n\nThe entity nodded, Death eased up and relaxed in his chair, but kept an eye on the table. It was silent until Famine spoke.\n\nFamine was thin. Bone thin, it was easy to see through his grey sweater and skin-tight pants. Giants could have used him as a toothpick. \"I agree with Death, Conquest was an obnoxious brute, so full of himself, claiming he was 'so close to ending the world' and other balderdash. I don't miss him one bit.\" Famine sipped wine after he spoke.\n\nPestilence immediately piped up, never one to let his thoughts go unheard, but his coughing always made it difficult.\n\n\"We do not cough need any more of us. Let alone replace me. Do to my cough malaria, I've killed half of humanity alone! I'm far more efficient than most of you.\"\n\nDeath glared at him. Pestilence was rude, not so much as Conquest, but Pestilence never failed to shut up about his latest creations, he never stopped harping about his prized Ebola. He almost wished God would smite him where he sat. At least he brought good business.\n\nThrough the silence, the five seemed to agree. War shared his final thoughts.\n\n\"Well... I could never lose a fight, and he could never lose at all... I enjoyed sparring with him.\" The big red brute added, almost questioning himself.\n\nThe entity held up a long scroll, signed in what appeared to be blood read the immortal name of who we know as 'Conquest.'\n\n\"All in favor of allowing Conquest to return to our plane?\"\n\nWar shrugged and held up his hand. He knew no one else would.\n\nThe entity nodded, and as soon as he did, a big red stamp appeared on the paper. He snapped his fingers and it vanished into a puff of smoke. The entity spoke one last time. \"Meeting adjourned.\"\n\n*\nThey denied my permit? \n\n...\n\nWell now what do I do?\n", "\"You here about the horsemens' latest?\"\n\nI glanced up at the soul of the bartender. He was dappled, glowing with gold sheen punctuated by points of soft blue and a few spots of inky black. He wasn't long for purgatorio. \n\n\"No. I don't really keep up with the news Topside.\"\n\n\"That's a shame. End times look like they're coming up soon, horsemen are pullin' out all the stops. Famine and Pestilence pulled a team up like nothing Topside's seen in a thousand years. Africa and South America got hit, obviously, but so did America and China. Things are getting crazy down there.\"\n\n\"Yeah, sounds it.\"\n\nThere was an awkward silence. The bartender glanced around the mostly empty room, then back to me. I sipped my beer, pointedly avoiding his gaze.\n\n\"Say,\" he said, finally realizing that I wasn't going to initiate conversation, \"I haven't seen you around this neighborhood before. You don't look like most of the souls that come through here. Not that I'm complaining about a new customer. Recovering sinners aren't real big on alcohol.\"\n\nI stayed silent. I knew where this was going. I'd had this conversation a thousand times with a thousand lost souls.\n\n\"It's just,\" he continued, \"you don't really look like a normal soul. Y'know, no offense or anything, but, like, you're missing that shine that they usually got. You're not, like, an angel or something, right?\"\n\nI looked up at him. \n\n\"No. Sorry.\"\n\n\"Hey man, don't apologize. I got busted pretty bad last time angels were down here. But, uh, if you're not an angel, what are you?\"\n\nI took a deep breath.\n\n\"Tell me something. Did you ever think it was weird that all the horsemen seem to be subsets of death?\"\n\n\"Whaddaya mean?\"\n\n\"Well, War, Famine, Pestilence, those are just things that cause Death. That's why they're bad. That's why they're horsemen. But what's the point of having those three if we have Death?\"\n\n\"Well, ain't death, like, their leader? They're all aspects of him, they take the big causes of Death so he can focus on the little things, right?\"\n\n\"Yes, that's right. Most souls don't know that.\"\n\n\"Eh, what can I say, I've picked some things up since I got here. Plus, to be honest, I'm a bit of a dork when it comes to the apocalypse. Horsemen especially, I know all about them.\"\n\n\"Of course. Well, the thing is that Death doesn't cover all of humanity's ills.\"\n\n\"What?\"\n\n\"Think about it. Torture, pain, misery, boredom, hate, loss, loneliness. Most of the worst trials of mankind happen in life, not in death.\"\n\n\"Uh...okay. So what?\"\n\nI put down my beer and got up.\n\n\"Hey, mister, where you goin? You never answered my question? Who are you anyway?\"\n\nI dropped a few coins on the bar. \n\n\"All things have aspects. Death has his subordinate horsemen. As I used to.\"\n\nThe man stared, open mouthed.\n\n\"No...no way. You're...\"\n\nI nodded.\n\n\"Life. Father of Death. First of man's troubles.\"", "Eyes open for the first time in millennia. \n in an eternity. \nMuscles long neglected warm with activity. \n with movement. \nA breath is taken. \n I take a breath. \nThe sleep is over. \n My sleep is over. \nI can feel my mind and functions returning as power courses through long dormant veins. I blink, my eyes with pupils as black as the void from whence they came closing and opening again. I lift my arm, throwing off the centuries of rubble and dirt that amassed above me with the ease of a child removing ants. I rise, my very essence and energy being sent through the omniverse. \nA warning. \nI have returned. Within mere moments, four beings of energy not unlike my own appear before me. \nWelcome Brother* \n We have long awaited your return \n The time shall soon come \nWhy are there only four of you. \n We were sealed long ago by the One who Escaped \nPitiful. You are weak. \n Indeed \n But with your help we can become powerful \nI observe that which has transpired in my absence. The universe itself had come to revolve around me, it so appeared. \nAs what am I known as in the Battlefield of Worlds? \n They have come to call it Earth \n Even in your Slumber you fought in the war \n You have captured them in your Hidden energy \n They call it Gravity \nAh, so they are within my grasp. Why has the fourth of our brethren been silent? \n Fourth? Great one, of us there are but three \n Hello, Lucifer. They have come to call me Yahweh. \n I am the One who Escaped, and they have come to call me God. \nOur battle begins so abruptly. How could my Brothers not see you? \n Man says not even radiation can do anything but stare into the heart of a Black Hole. \n So I transformed them into Radiation. \nWhat name are you known by now amongst Our kind, then, Runner? \n I have taken the name of Star. Man knows me as Light. \nSo the War shall be between the Light and the Void. \n Man has a name for you too. Even in Slumber, your power changed the world. \nWho am I, then? \nYou are Entropy. The destroyer. Man has sided with the Runner, oh old God. Your name of Olde is long forgotten. \n So Man fights against me? \nYes. \n Interesting. And what of my other Brethren? \nMan should not worry about more than one Devil at a time, Lucifer. Even you agree with that, do you not? \n Enough talk, Light. It is time for Entropy to bring eternal Darkness. \nEnough talk indeed. Though you will find my Humans more than a match. \n... \n... \nI have listened to the Humans, Light. \n Oh? And what do they have to say? \nNot even Light can escape a Black Hole. \n You stopped being a Black Hole the moment you awoke. When they discover you're force has changed in it's essence, they'll be shocked, and you'll simply propel them forward in their Entropy-destroying activities. \n \nInteresting. I wonder, have they yet learned to split the atom? To kill without limit in pursuit of their goals? \n They have split the atom. And use it yet for peace. \nLet's change that, then. War was always my favourite Brother. \n\n-----------------\nOne of my longest ones yet. Not entirely sure about quality. Meh. What do you folks think?\n", "“Don't call me bro.”\n\n“Just chill, man. He can ride with us.”\n\n“I don't wanna ride with an old grandpa.”\n\n“You don't wanna ride with anyone.”\n\n“Oh, shut up, Pestilence. You're a poser.”\n\n“I'M a poser? What have YOU done, for the past fifty years, War?”\n\n“Oh, I don't know... Iraq?”\n\n“Iraq. Big deal. You know the wars the big guy worked in, back in the days?”\n\n“Shut up.”\n\n“Hundred Years War. How about you work on something like that, before you call him an old grandpa?”\n\n“Calm down guys, it's not a competition.”\n\n“You think you're so awesome because of the Ebola thing?”\n\n“Actually, yeah. People freaked the fuck out, didn't you notice? No one cares about wars anymore, bro, you're dead.”\n\n“Oh, shut up. Ebola was your first hit since AIDS. What about the whole animal flu fiasco? Swine, bird, you \ntried everything!”\n\n“At least I was working on new stuff, not rehashing old material that people don't give a shit about. You did Iraq in the nineties, and, you know what? Even then, it wasn't that cool. No one cares\nabout war anymore, bro, sorry. This is not the sixties.”\n\n“People still care!”\n\n“Guys, guys, calm down, we should be focusing on the fifth horseman.”\n\n“Shut up, Hunger. Go burn someone's dinner.”\n\n“Ok, that's enough”. I raised my voice, putting an end to the discussion. “Hunger, Pestilence, War, I don't wanna hear \nanother word.” \n\nThey quieted down. I'm still Death, after all. \n\n“Now, we're going to let him ride with us, tonight. No, no \naaahs. We'll see how it goes. If he performs well, we can talk about getting him back for real. Think about this as a trial \nrun, ok?\n\n“Yeah, ok.”\n\n“Fine, fine.”\n\n“Good”, I smiled. “Now, I wanna try some new stuff, this time. Combine your skills. Since he'll be riding with us, I \nthought maybe we could work out something like an outbreak of a disease... during a war. How about that?\n\n“That sounds cool.” \n\n“Yeah, we can work on that.”\n\nThey smiled, calming down. Things were back in control. Tonight should be fun.\n\n“How about me?”\n\nHunger looked up at me with his big, kitten eyes.\n\n“Huh... You can... Just... We'll like, jam up the pizza delivery phone lines all over the country, how about that? So people can't have pizzas, huh? That'll teach them. Come on \nguys, don't laugh, this is serious.”\n\nHunger walked away, pissed. That was probably unprofessional on my part. I should go talk to him.\n\n“Come on, come back here. It was a joke! We'll find something for you to do!”\n\n“You guys are assholes.”" ]	10
	[WP] Death has sex for the first time. (NSFW)	[ "I know what you're all thinking, well, aside from the fact that I have decided to personify myself, even though I am technically only a \"Concept\" as how you human beings would describe it... Truly, none of you seem to understand what's going on. But I don't blame you. You're only in a very... low dimension right now. What you \"understand\" is very limited. What you don't understand, however, is what you should focus on. Anyway, I won't spoil it all right now. \nWhat you're all thinking: I'm Death. (Capitalized it for all of you, since you seem to love the concept of self and individual identities so much) So who could possibly want to fuck the living daylights out of me, make passionate, sweet love to me, or simply penetrate me? (Which begets the question, which genitalia do I possess? How very fun and exciting, we shall explore that later) I'm such a scary, awful... Thing. Nobody wants to be with me, much less look at me. Very, very few people have dared stared me right in the face. But those who have... Well. This is where everything begins, I suppose. \nBegins? What are you talking about Death? Don't you mean end? When someone comes face to face with you, you consume them. You relish in them. You take away that everything they were, are, and ever will be. \nWell of course. I would be a truly awful force of nature if I ever relented in my job. And yes, that is what I call what I do. A job. Something that needs to be done. Just like how gravity pulls and how other forces of nature exist. I happen to be 1 on the binary scale. I happen, and that's that. \nAlright, alright, but let's just get to the good part already. I want to hear the moans of ecstasy, the staccato of sighs, the rhythm of hot, primal fucking because that's what the writing prompt called for! Well I mean, okay. But is that really the fun part? You've probably watched it in porn a billion times. Or, if you're outside of Reddit's demographic, you've probably experienced it yourself. But I won't hold out on you. My first time was with a man. I personified myself as a woman, I won't get specific with what the entirety of my body looked like, but my vagina was, as He described it, \"Pretty ugly, but then again, some of them just look like that I guess,\" which did not raise an arousal in me. It raised nothing, actually, as I forgot to turn my emotional reactions on. Silly me. Playing human and already messing up. But I suppose, that in itself is quite human. \nAnd that was how Death lost its virginity. I never really tried again after that. I simply had no interest. And it wasn't because I didn't have my emotions turned on either. I am incapable of emotions, actually, as I realized just now. I only determined I could turn it off and on because I thought I had the choice. I thought I had the ability. But it's just beyond my range of what I can actually perceive and produce. In fact, I am death personified only simply because you have chosen to read these words. You have chosen to make me come to life in your mind. I don't truly exist in the way that you think I do. I may be a force of nature, and I may be absolute, but how you perceive me is not. Because when you come face to face with me, when you stare into me, you no longer have the ability to be yourself. You die, but really, after you die, you are no longer you. So what are you? Who are you? You are death. You are me. You become one with me, and in nothing, there is everything. You simply don't perceive as you used to. And only a few people realized that right before they go. But I suppose, in the end that doesn't matter. I am death. When you die, you will be dead. There is no concept of You anymore. Hence why I stopped capitalizing. Hence why I will disappear once again into a faraway concept that you hope never to think about in the future. \nWell, that must have been a bummer to read. All you were looking for was maybe some creative fiction about death being a lesbian, and finding love in a human girl, and how death would no longer exist and all the hijinks that would ensue if it disappears. Perhaps, subconsciously, you were looking for hope that the concept of death isn't so absolute, even though you are reading a piece of fiction. \nBut concepts, you see, can only be contemplated by the living. And what am I? ", "It was midnight, a Tuesday, and Death was being accosted by a whore. He hadn't meant to look at her, only intended to give her a passing glance as he continued on his way, but he found it more difficult than expected.\n\nShe was pretty, strikingly so, with dark brown hair done up in a messily intricate combination of braid and ponytail. Loose strands framed her face in waves and curls and emphasized her teasingly inquisitive eyes. But it wasn't her face that made him stop, rather her clothes. \n\nThe woman wore a canvas skirt that fell past her knees. Beneath the hemline, two deep brown military boots sat, revealing only a bit of calf in the pleats when she moved in just the right way. She wore a plain blouse which didn't show off any of her breasts save for the pleasant swell beneath the off white, and even that was covered by a thin scarf looped around her neck. \n\nIt wasn't at all sexy. Still, there was something erotic there, an alluring pull that Death couldn't deny. She seemed comfortable and her expression spoke of a sensual authority, which suggested sex in a smoky, forbidden kind of way.\n\nHe hadn't thought... not until she hiked up that long skirt of hers and flashed him milky thighs in the neon bath of the store sign that she took refuge under. \"Hey handsome,\" she called-- and that was when he realized. Death always took a form that meant something to his target, usually someone they feared or felt guilt or debt towards, and at the moment he was an old man dressed in an ill-fitting suit with a nearly disappeared hairline and a pronounced beer gut. \"You interested?\"\n\nHe had to admit he was tempted. Her look recalled ancient memories within him and a stirring he'd never felt. \"I have never--\" he replied before he knew what he was doing. \n\nShe gave him a sultry smile. \"It's okay, I'll show you.\" And there it was again, that authority that had him feeling an entirely unfamiliar pull. \n\n\"Alright.\" And she did, her lithe form dragging across his body in ways that made every bit of him stand on edge. Death felt so out of place. She was beautiful, unlike any whore-- any woman he'd seen, and he was a foul beast of a man. He found himself wishing he'd taken a different form, something that would please her. He wanted to please her. But when she kissed him and rolled her hips, he forgot all of it and was lost in the heat of her body.\n\n\"What's your name?\" he asked later that night, the words falling off his tongue in time with his heartbeat-- God it felt nice to have a heartbeat. He'd never known.\n\nShe looked over at him as she lit a cigarette and her answer made his cheeks pale. \n\n\"I'm sorry,\" he stammered out. \"I'm so sorry.\"\n\n\"Why is that?\"\n\nDeath whispered her name, tongue curling reverently around the syllables. \"It's your time. I have to take you away.\"\n\n\"Yeah, I know.\" The woman took a long drag and released the smoke in a slow, purposeful exhale. \"I've always had daddy issues.\"\n\n", "He sat back on the bed, leaning on his elbows. If he had a heart, he knew it'd be pumping rapidly right now.\n\n\"Please, please. You're taking this a bit fast Martha. We just met.\"\n\nMartha just kept making out with him furiously, kissing his neck and working towards removing his cloak, \"Calm down, its just some fucking.\"\n\n\"Yeah, yeah I get that. But, but- oh my god!\" Death is interrupted by Martha's interest with what's underneath the cloak. She raises her head back up and shows a face of disapproval.\n\n\"What the fuck? Where's your dick?\"\n\n\"I don't have it,\" Death looks uncertain at her. He knows this was something he should have brought up. But then again, she should have seen it coming- he is a skeleton after all.\n\n\"Well how are we supposed to fuck? There's nothing there for me to work with!\"\n\n\"I don't know- I thought maybe some making out and then cuddling?\"\n\n\"Oh my god,\" Martha gets on her feet and turns back, with her hands on the back of her head. She turns back around, \"You've never done this before have you?\"\n\n\"What? Yeah! Plenty of times. I just feel that you're really special,\"\n\n\"You've never fucking fucked before have you?\"\n\n\"Do you have to be so vulgar? No I haven't, Christ! I could make up for it though, don't worry,\"\n\nShe sits down on the bed, putting her top on, \"Oh I'm worried, for you though because I'm about to leave, and everyone's going to know that you never even had a dick to begin with. Now you're gonna be a joke to everybody, you got that?\"\n\nDeath realized the predicament that he was in. He felt he had no choice, so he reached for her and placed her on her back, and began to reach with his hand into her skirt, and began to pump his index finger in and out of her. Suddenly, Martha moaned. Death saw that this was pleasing her, so he went faster.\n\n\"Keep going, oh!\" She began to move with death but within minutes she went stiff after letting out a scream. Death didn't realize though for a couple more seconds.\n\n\"Oh shit, I killed her,\" Death didn't know what to do. But then he remembered that his other hand was capable of reviving people in case he messed up during his duty. So without a thought, death raised his left hand and drove it down with a force across Martha's face. Just like that she woke up and let out a pleasured gasp.\n\n\"What- what was that?\" She breathed between syllables.\n\n\"I just used my finger to fuck you,\"\n\n\"No one's ever done that before. That was- that was fantastic!\"\n\n\"Seriously? You died for a second there,\"\n\n\"Holy shit are you serious?\"\n\n\"Yeah, yeah you died for a good while, I had to slap you back to life,\"\n\nMartha leaned her head back, \"I don't know about you, but I never experienced anything like that before. It was like- a thousand times better than any sex I've had,\"\n\n\"Well that's good to hear, good to hear,\" Death exclaimed. He knew if he had lips, he'd be smiling a shit-eating grin.\n\n\"I'm still gonna tell everyone You're a dickless virgin though,\"\n\n\"Okay then...\" Death proceeded to touch Martha with his left hand to her heart and kill her.\n\n\"I'll tell the guys I totally boned her,\" Death told himself as he got up from the bed and reached for his scythe." ]	3
	[WP] A young man gains super powers at the age of 16, but he discovers his powers slowly drain the life of whomever he loves. To avoid hurting anyone he becomes a loner. Years later, he is having lunch at a diner alone when the most beautiful girl he's ever seen walks in.	[ "Temptation is the worst thing in the world. Lets say you are the most powerful man on earth. Lets say you decide to use this power to help people, to make a change. So you go where people are, to the city, where there are always those in need. But then you're told that every time you use that great power you hurt those you love. \n\nSo then you become careful, become a recluse. Avoid the temptation of giving in to humanity's social nature. And when you have to get groceries, pay the rent, go out to eat, you interact with people little as possible. Go outside, make your order or get your food, pay the cashier, tip the waitress, and go home. No pleasantries, no \"how do you dos\" or \"have a nice days\". You seem rude or hateful, but no body knows that you are doing it for their own good. Push them away, because you're a parasite.\n\nYou try not to play hero, just in case. But every so often those ears of yours, so much greater than everyone else's, hears a scream for help. The cops will never get there in time. The temptation sets in and you give in. You put on some dark clothes and you run with the speed of a bullet and you save the day. You knock out the attacker, tie him up, and call an ambulance for the woman. But you never say word to her. She says thank you but you ignore her and leave her to safety. You swear you will never do it again, but your bleeding heart never lets you keep that promise.\n\nLets say everything goes according to plan until one otherwise average day, while you're eating the same steak in eggs in silence you eat every time you come to this diner, she walks in. She strikes you dead in your tracks. She looks in your direction, your eyes meet, and god damn it, you smile. Every bone in your body aches to get up, say hi, shake her hand. The temptation, the longing for human companionship, is so strong.\n\nHowever then you see the future unfold before your eyes. You see yourself asking her name, asking her out. You see the first date unfold, you walking her to her door. You close your eyes as you see the first kiss, the first night you spend together, you two buy a house out in the country, away from the world and its troubles and living happy together.\n\nBut then you see her skin starting to pale. Her getting thinner and thinner while you stay the same. No doctor is able to figure out whats wrong with her. Maybe you gave in when some disaster happened, felt the suffering was too great, convinced yourself using your powers one time wouldn't hurt her. Maybe something unavoidable happened like a car crash, and you used your strength to pull her out of the burning car, in her unconscious state she never found out how you two survived. Or maybe you are simply a leech and simply by existing, your love is killing her. No matter the reason, you see her one day at a horribly young age, a withered husk, and it is your fault.\n\nSo then you get up, leave the money with the bill, and leave. You refuse to look at her as you do, for fear of giving in to that beautiful face. You leave your foolish dreams of living a normal, happy life in that diner. You go home and that night, feeling miserable and alone, you hear sirens, a fire. You hear, ever so far away, a firefighter say that there are people trapped inside. Voices are saying its too dangerous to go inside. So you get up and decide to make yourself useful. You get there in under a minute. You slip past the police barricade and you run into the building. You see a body, limp, trapped under a fallen beam. You throw the beam off of her without effort. You pick up the the person and carry her out of the building. Once you're outside you hand her off to an EMT who puts her in a stretcher. He moves the hair out of her face and to your horror its the girl from the diner. Her eyes gently open and she softly whispers \"Its you, that guy from earlier\". Quickly as possible you turn and you just run. Police and firemen try to approach you, but you're gone in the blink of an eye. \n\nLets say you run all night. You go to bed early in the morning and cry yourself to sleep. But no matter how miserable you are, you now know you made the right choice. This girl knows you saved her life, but she can never know who you are. You know she is the one too, or at least someone like her. She could make you happy, and maybe for a short time you could make her happy. However, for you happy endings aren't an option. So you decide to leave town tomorrow. Your curse is temptation, but you will deny it. With all your strength, you could protect the world, you withstand temptation, but you will always hurt the one you love, so you will deprive yourself of love, of friendship, of companionship, for all of this is for their own good.", "Small towns never ceased to amaze Colt. The kindness and cordiality between the residents and absolute strangers was always kind of mindblowing to him. In a way, it was how he was able to stay sane. Given his... condition, Colt could never really get close to anybody. Small town's were a small comfort in his lonely existence. Out here, he could pretend like he was best friends with the waitress, or have a conversation with a random guy at the bar like he was an old acquaintance he hadn't talked to in years.\n\nAs Colt sipped his coffee, he looked out the window across the hot, dry, and barren landscape. There really wasn't much out there to see, just dead grass and twisted trees. However, he was still in awe of it. Despite it's emptiness, there was still a power behind it that he was drawn to. He heard a jingle of bells at the door, and turned to see who may be his new friends for the afternoon. \n\nHis jaw dropped. A woman walked through the door, absolutely radiant. Her auburn hair hung to her shoulders, shining in the early afternoon glare. Her wide smile is the kind seen only people who have an inner joy that brings up everyone and everything around them. But most of it all, it was her eyes. The way they seemed to whisk away any worry or care, and made a person feel incredibly at ease. She was the most beautiful person he had ever seen, and he had not seen her in a decade.\n\nColt avoided eye contact, and hunched over his coffee. He knew the consequences. He couldn't let this happen again. Not with her. He looked around and tried to plan his escape. \n\n\"Colt?\"\n\nHe froze at the sound of the quiet voice near his shoulder. He turned, slowly, to face her. \n\n\"Marie... I, uh, didn't realize you lived here\"\n\nColt cast his eyes down, and noticed a golden glimmer on her left hand. A ring.\n\n\"Colt, you should stay for awhile, we should talk\"\n\nHe looked pleadingly up into her wonderful eyes, now marred by a sadness that he had only seen once before. \n\n\"You know I can't do that.\"\n\nColt got up, and looked at her, but then turned and left abruptly. He had no place staying her, he couldn't let it happen again. He couldn't put her in danger again.\n\nBack in the diner, Marie sat down and watched him go. As the tears began to flow, she took the ring off and felt the engraved C&M on the inside. Logically she knew he could never return to her. But she wouldn't let him go. Couldn't let him go.", "Connor got the deluxe egg and steak meal. The one with the hash browns and extra pancakes and pretty much a side of everything the menu had to offer.\n\n\"Are we waiting for anybody else,\" the Lake Tahoe waitress asked. She had been up since 10pm the night before and was just itching to get into bed.\n\n\"No all for me. Oh and can you add an extra order of hash browns on top of that?\"\n\nIf he had a choice, Connor would eat breakfast for every meal. Breakfast had the perfect combination of carbs protein and fats, and he swore that when he ate a good hardy American breakfast his powers worked better. With a full stomach, he could do anything from materialize a ten story block of ice to creating a detailed microscopic sculpture of the statue of liberty the size of his toe nail. But he wasn't at Lake Tahoe to use his powers. No he was there to snowboard.\n\nWhile waiting for the waitress Connor whipped out his list. \n\nLake Tahoe\nSwiss Alps\nShark watching \nGo to Space\nEat a Cronut in New York\n\nHe put a big checkmark right next to Lake Tahoe.\n\n\"Happy Bo? I'm finally fulfilling a bucket list like you said,\" Connor thought. He looked at his list and laughed. Why was it so hard to figure out what you wanted to do in your life? Connor was 30 but he already felt done. \n\nSometimes he felt there was not point in living life, if you couldn't enjoy it with anyone he loved. Eventually he would laugh and then say \"Love isn't for heroes.\" But lately it had become harder and harder to say.\n\nThe door of the diner swung open, briefly letting in the chilly afternoon air. In the corner of his eye, Connor senses the graceful movement of a woman dressed in a white parka. She rubbed her hands together once she was inside and looked hastily at the menu.\n\n\"One hot chocolate please,\" she said. Her voice was gentle and clear. When Connor looked up he found himself choking on air. The air around him instantly dropped and the cup of water froze solid. She was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. \n\nConnor looked away to control himself. \n\n\"Whoa it sure got chilly in here didn't it,\" the waitress said. \"You okay boy?\"\n\n\"Yeah just tired,\" Connor said to explain why he was tucking his head in his arms. \n\nRight when the waitress set down the extra plate of hash browns she tipped over and slipped on the sleet of ice that had frozen underneath Connor's chair. Before the waitress could hit her head on the floor, Connor bent down quickly, froze his feet to the floor for support and offered a cushioned response into his arms. His years on ice had honed his instincts. \n\n\"Are you alright,\" Connor said with steam coming out of his mouth.\n\"Oh my god, what happened,\" the freaked out waitress said.\n\"It's just some ice that was brought in.\" The waitress thanked Connor and went back to get herself back together. He was happy that he saved her in time. He couldn't have her hurt on his conscious.\n\n\"Smooth reflexes mister.\" She had the hot chocolate in her hand and she was smiling at Connor. SHe was even prettier up close, and smelled sweet like strawberries. \n\n\"Thanks,\" Connor replied. He continued avoiding her gaze, just trying to control the adrenaline in his veins.\n\n\"No i'm serious, you slid on that floor and caught her like an ice skating olympian. It was very cool.\"\n\nConnor blushed heavily at that comment. \"Well I was going to go to Beijing but I didn't like the outfit they gave me,\" he joked.\n\nShe laughed so hard that she almost spilled her hot chocolate. \"My name is Cammy.\"\n\n\"Connor,\" he said. \n\n\"How are you not cold in here just wearing a t-shirt,\" Cammy asked.\n\"I'm naturally cold blooded,\" Connor said the truth.\n\"Well I like the cold too but it seems as if its getting colder now. Even my hot chocolate is like luke warm now.\"\n\nConnor gulped. It was happening already. At least he got to say hi.\n\n\"Then maybe you should by another damn hot chocolate,\" he said angrily. \"Stop wasting my time with your stupid problems.\"\n\n----finishing here for now may continue later, bed time----\n\n\n\n", "To his horror, she glanced directly at him and slid her toned body into the seat across from him. He began abruptly, as if he were an actor in a play and he was reciting his lines for the thousandth time. \"I don't know who you are or what you want out of life but I need to tell you two things. First, people around me get hurt. It may not be my desire or intention but hell if it don't always work out like that. The second thing is that nothing you can say will change the facts of the matter.\"\n\nThere was a short and uncomfortable silence. He shifted in his seat. Slowly she held out her hand. A smile crept across her face. \"Hi. My name is Rogue. There's a man you should meet.\"", "Mark flew out of the Sanctuary of Loneliness, as he called it, that he built for himself in the Gobi desert. Within minutes he was at his favorite diner just outside Dodge City, Kansas. A polecat that had been hanging around his sanctuary seemed to inexplicably wither and die. In fact, all around his home, dried out carcasses of animals littered the desert. \n\n\nHe sat at his usual spot in the diner, a booth with glittery red plastic padding. A waitress in a yellow dress and red apron approached the table with a cup of coffee, “The usual, Mr. Mint?” she asked as she sat the coffee down. The wrinkled joints of her hands betrayed the stocky waitress’s true age. Her breathe was sour. Mark had learned a trick, in order to not get attached to anyone; he would only focus on their negative features, their flaws. \n\n\n“Yep…” Mark began, “No, I mean, I think I will have a cheese omelet with pancakes instead.” He wasn't sure what spurred this sudden change in desire. \n\n\nAs he waited for his food to arrive, she walked in. The most beautiful woman he had ever seen. She had wide benthal blue eyes, on a youthful face; wavy brown hair that smelled of roses decorated the shoulders of her slender frame. Her yellow sundress with white polka-dots contrasted against her deep red lipstick hinting at an intriguing eccentricity. Mark tried to find flaws, but even they proved enticing; a chipped front tooth, a poorly drawn faded daisy chain tattoo around the ankle, bitten fingernails. He swore he caught her glance at him with a slight smirk. He looked down at his coffee. \n\n\nIt was true he did long the touch of a woman. In fact he has never been with one, sexually, in his life. He had found out the price of his powers as a teenager. During his first real battle, against a villain named Cerebiac, his first girlfriend nearly died. He hadn’t even gotten to second base. Of course he realized that if he stopped using his powers he could find love and settle down. But that just seemed selfish to him. He could do, and has done, so much good. \nHe was the first superhero; he has saved the earth countless times. But so many superheroes have popped up since him, fifteen years ago. Maybe he wasn’t needed; maybe he could retire, find love and settle down. \n\n\n“Here you go, hun.” His thoughts were interrupted as the waitress sat his food on the table. “Anything else?” She put her fists on her waist as she waited for his response. \n\n\n“Umm…no thanks.” Mark replied. As the waitress walked away, he noticed the woman had taken a seat two booths in front of him, with her back to him. He slowly began eating. \n\n“What would I even say to her?” he thought to himself. He hadn’t tried to pick up a girl since he was sixteen. He didn’t even know if she would be interested in him. What if she did agree to go on a date? He would have to move back to his Dodge City apartment. What if it turned out he didn’t like her? He would be forsaking his superpowers for nothing. An old quote came back to his mind, ‘better to have loved and lost, than to have never loved at all.’ It was worth the risk he thought. He was human after all, he needed companionship. Other members of the Justice Alliance, were probably thinking he was weird for not having a girlfriend. He hadn’t told anybody, not even the Alliance, about the price that comes with his powers. What if he wasn’t good at being intimate?\n\n\nDoubts and confusion clouded his mind. The conflict became too much, he bit down on his fork, full power. His teeth cut through the prongs like they were uncooked spaghetti. In that instant he swore he saw the woman wince in pain. He spit the metal prongs out. “Control yourself!” he thought, “turn off your powers.” He took a few deep breathes and took his wallet out. He threw bill on the table. “I can do this.” \n\n\nHe raised himself from the booth with intention. Peering into a mirror on the other side of the diner he straightened his suit. He took a few strides forward and stopped next to the beauty’s table. He opened his mouth to speak, the girl still focused on her menu. Nothing came out. He stood there for a moment trying to work up the courage to speak. He had fought aliens, dinosaurs and cyborgs, but he had never felt the fear he felt now. He didn’t know how, or if he could, handle rejection.\n\n\n He attempted to speak again, but before he could, she looked over at him, “Can I help you?” she asked.\n\n\n“Yes, I mean no,” sweat pellets drenched his forehead. “ Sorry, I was just, umm, spacing out, for a second.” \n\n\n“Maybe I’ll run into her again,” he thought as he hurried off. “If I see her again, that will be a sign.” He was trying to convince himself that he didn’t blow it. As soon as he rounded the corner out of the diner door he hurled himself into the sky at speeds he didn’t know he was capable of. \n" ]	5
If you drive a bubble car, you have my condolences.	[WP] Due to some kind of Nuclear accident, you are forced to stay in your car for six weeks.	[ "These things will never happen to me. People think like that. Least expecting disasters to come knocking at their doors. Destiny it seems to have its own sense of humor. It has been 14 days since I had seen any sunlight. 14 days from the D-day. 14 days since the nuclear disaster.\n\nThe cause? Ripple effect: A complete miscalculation in an underground nuclear test, for peaceful purpose and betterment of mankind, caused an earthquake, which in turn shifted the fault lines and in turn caused massive shifting of major Tectonic plate, and caused volcanic eruption. The volcanic eruption in turn, caused a large water body to “shift” and flooded massive areas. \nA series of earthquakes both small and large caused enough large scale damage to call for international efforts. We were assured that the situation would be contained. And that it was all under “control”. Somehow I felt there would be more. But not in my wildest dreams, did I imagine a total annihilation possibility. Now it indeed seem possible. \n\nThe last straw was earthquakes close to volcanoes. That proved to be the final straw. Once a large volcano burst, there was no turning back. Nuclear winter was coming. I was sure of that. At least for large parts of our beloved planet Earth. \nPride of a nation, built on foundation of scientific and sound principles, seems shattered. Complete collapse of government left ordinary people at mercy of nature. And nature after years of cajoling seems unforgiving and unrelenting. Other nations more busy with war and religion, had ignored science enough to make themselves incapable of handling any large scale disaster. Let alone, a mega-disaster. \n \nAs I looked out of the window of my red coloured car into, morning of Nov 29 2054 what was once a bustling industrial town, now covered in compete dark ash and darkness. I wondered about all those people waking up each day going for jobs they cared little about, spending their time on things that didn't matter. What made us so sure of things? That nothing would touch us. That everything will pass. We flew through our real priorities. \n\nI drove my car. It was mine for last 500 miles or so. I planned to move to a rural area nearby hoping to find some stocks of food and other essentials. I looked at the picture of owner of card, smiling and seemingly assured about things and wondered what had happened to him. My time was running out, so were others. The atmosphere was changing fast and it was difficult to breathe. \n\nOur species was coming closer and closer to extinction. We were to make way of others to come and grow and evolve. Of one thing I was sure of was our collective vulnerability. No government was powerful enough, no secret organization came to rescue, no Gods protected us now, no aliens intervened and we were ultimately kicked aside as speck of dust we were, ignoring our environment, proud of our accomplishment and yet completely incapable of surviving in the very environment that gave us birth. 65 million years back, another species, after surviving for eternity with massive size and aggression, had come to a complete halt. Ceased to exist by very things that made them successful. Destiny it seems has indeed has sense of humor. \n\n\n", "What happens when we give up hope? What happens when we all give up hope, when we silently agree that nothing can change the world we live in, change the mistakes we’ve made. What happens when I give up hope? Will I die? I can’t do it myself. I can’t make myself end it with so much left to see. There was so much left to see. The entire world was out there; so many people to meet, so many places to visit. I was set. I was alive. I was free.\n\nNow I’m here. I’m trapped in this metal microwave and I’m trying not to give up. This sucks. I’ve been here for six nights. I am hot. I am drenched with sweat. I am alone. I am scared. Six nights ago I was on my way to a better place. Tonight I’m not fully sure if I’m alive. Maybe I’ve died and my mind has made up an eternal world of suffering that I’ll only be able to leave when I finally give up. Maybe not. Maybe I’m just fucked and there’s nothing I can do about it until I finally wither away and die. Maybe I’m insane and just imagining everything. Whatever. I’m trapped. I know that. I can completely and without the slightest quandary say that I am trapped in a car on the 45 between three rocks and a hard place and if I step out into the sunlight for just the slightest breath of uncirculated air I will die.\n\nI’ve seen dead people. That was day two. Day one, when we saw the mushroom clouds in stand-still traffic, word spread that the only way to stay safe was to tape up our doors and air vents and barricade ourselves from the ensuing fallout. Supplies were handed out—I don’t know from whom or from where, but we all got enough plastic sheets and water to last a couple days—and instructions made clear: No one get out until ‘Guy in Charge’ gave the signal. He had some sort of communication device that was able to withstand the damage that cluster fucked the rest of our cellular communication and could get word on when the air was safe to breath.\n\nSo that was good. We had someone looking out for us, someone in charge that knew what he was doing. We listened. We exchanged words of strength and condolence and whatever else we could fool ourselves into thinking would actually make a difference and shut ourselves off from one another. The fallout came. We survived. We were good. Then night came. We slept. Then day two. I fucking hate that day.\n\nPeople started getting restless. Our cars were hot. They still are. I’m looking at 105 degrees when I turn on the power every couple of hours to check the radio (Just to be clear, I’ve never heard anything. I just like having something to do). So at about 18 hours past zero time this guy gets out of his car and he’s absolutely fine. He’s refreshingly fine. Guy in Charge still hadn’t given the signal, but I guess he thought he was smart enough to know when nuclear fallout was safe to breath. Maybe he thought it was his decision, that he shouldn’t be forced to stay locked up in a steaming death trap for the rest of his ill-fated life. That’s an okay if needlessly self-destructive way to think if you’re acting on behalf of yourself. This fecal cunt bagger wasn’t.\n\nHe gave a thumbs up, a universal sign that conveyed an “Oh, it’s cool. We’re all going to be fine out here. Just look at me.” 13 people opened their doors before he started coughing up blood. Four of those 13 people had families with them. They all died within hours. 18 human beings died right in front of me because they thought the danger had passed. They died because one guy thought he could beat fate.\n\nNo one communicated with each other for three more days. We’d all seen too much. No one should have to experience what we’ve experienced. It’s fucking dumb.\n\nDay five—yesterday—the woman in front of me put a sign in the back window of her car that read Six More Weeks. I didn’t pass the message on. I couldn’t. I can’t. There is no more hope. I swear I’m trying not to give up. I really am. But I don’t have any more food. I barely have enough water for another day. I can’t stay here any longer. The car to the left of me is covered in blood from the family of three that trusted that one guy enough to crack a window. The car behind me is too. What hope is there? Where can I go from here?\n\nRight now, right at this very moment, I’m laying down in my back seat. I’m hungry. I’m hot. I’m appallingly smelly. I have nothing to do. I have no one to talk to. I’m bored.\n\nThen I hear a splick from the front of the car. Another one. Splick splock splick splock splick. It gets louder and louder and faster and faster and moves from the front to the back and crosses all over. I peel away the plastic sheet covering my right rear window and see a flurry of white rocks raining down all around me. Hail. We’re caught in a hailstorm. It’s dark, very dark, so I can’t see where the clouds above me end, but it’s a big one.\n\nThen I smell it. The smell of fresh, sweet air invigorates me. It actually gives me hope. I am hopeful for the first time in six nights. I scurry up to the front passenger seat and rip off the large plastic sheet to get a better view. There, right in front of me, is a giant crack. The air I’m smelling isn’t fresh. It’s poisoned.\n\nNow I’m poisoned. I’m going to die.\n\nI smile.\n\nI didn’t give up hope. I can truthfully say I stayed with it right to the end. I didn’t use the knife I’ve been eyeing for the last two days to slit my wrists and bleed mercifully but cowardly into deep nothingness. I can say I died honorably.\n\nI’ll die the right way.\n" ]	2
	[WP] Give a book summary for a classic tale made into a sci-fi story.	[ "This is a fascinating idea!\n\nWe could do simple things like: Moby Dick, Ahab is hunting the illusive space whale, a living machine that wanders the stars consuming whole planets.\n\nOr any Shakespearean play using light sabers instead of swords would make some nifty movies if done right.\n\nBut my favourite would probably have to be if we took the Arthurian legends and turned them into a giant sci-fi space opera.\n\nIt's not really a summary summary, I'd keep true to the source material as much as possible but set the whole thing in space with the notable things being:\n\nMerlin is an ascended being from a race so old it has been forgotten by all the races in the universe.\n\nHorses are space ships.\n\nArthur becomes the emperor of a galaxy instead of King of a country.\n\nExcalibur is actually a planet busting weapon that's miraculously no bigger than and shaped mostly like a sword.\n\nThe lady of the lake is an alien recluse who is over 3000 year old researcher on an ocean planet. She gifts Excalibur to Arthur.\n\nExcalibur's sheath is a force field generator that defies all current technology and cannot be broken.\n\nMorgan Le Fay is a being on her way to ascension, with visions of the future.\n\nLancelot is a gallant star fighter pilot!\n\nGuinevere could be a sexy alien princess that looks largely human to outward appearances... thus the no children perhaps? Or maybe just an obviously sexy alien princess. Not sure.\n\nThe holy grail is an alien power source, possibly created by an ascended race that predates Merlin? That if it fell into the wrong hands could be used to destroy the known universe.\n\nMordred is a super human cyborg, who willing accepted the modification of his body into part machine.\n\nMan, that would be a lot of fun to write!", "A poor young boy named jack and His crippled mother live in a destitute wasteland on the outskirts of a settlement on mars. \n\n \nOn his way home from space-school, Jack meets a man who offers him some strange seeds in exchange for a hollifax converter. He says the seeds will bear incredible fruits the likes of which mars has never seen.\n\nJack rushes home, steals the hollifax converted and trades for the seeds, which have strange alien words stamped on them- MONSANTO. \n\nNeedless to say, mom is pissed, and tries to give jack an ass whuppin. But she is old, weak, and crippled. The seeds end up planted and a giant steel ladder grows from the ground. \n\nJack climbs the ladder and ends up on a space pod. He has to fight numerous giant robots and green tentacled aliens. He steals a golden plutonium beal-hopper and a stack of doubloons, and gets back down the ladder.\n\nMother is ecstatic, now she can finally hop all those beals, and they can finally make some money. \n\nThe final, boss robot climbs down the ladder and starts to smash up the town. The tiny people are almost defenseless, but at the last moment, Jack slays the robot by climbing into it's access panel and flipping off it's power source. \n\nAside from the dead people in town and the robot-aliens, almost everyone gets a happy ending.\n", "Set against the galactic economic collapse of 465 MWCE (Milky Way Contact Era), Milton, along with his slightly malfunctioning android, L7N-E, struggle to find work. The two dream of owning their own ship with a crew of their own.\n\nHaving recently escaped the pursuit of the authorities, deeming L7N-E's glitches a threat, the two come across a small moon of Kalif, finding work as labourers. During this time they meet the others who occupy and work on the scarcely populated moon.\n\nKandd, a rusted old cyborg, is closely approaching his expirey date as he struggles to afford updated parts. \n\nThe boss's wife, a bitter Kalifi with a once-promising future, is the last female of her species and so faces the terifying prospect of being used under a strict breeding programme by her government.\n\nStoop is a Nagri, a race traditionally used as slaves by the Kalifo. Despite his skill in engineering, he is bullied and persecuted by his fellow workers.\n\nMilton and L7N-E stay on through the work with their shared dream and friendship their only driving force. But life on the moon of Kalif is not an easy one, and threatens to tear that dream apart.\n\n" ]	3

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