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] Write a story about a serial killer, but make the readers feel sympathy for him/her as he kills his most recent victim.	[ "Timothy Mason is a respected man in his field of work, by those who do not know his nature. There have been others: Dorothy Hills, Jason Fredrick. They’re gone, and soon will Timothy.\n\nThe scarlet shimmer of the damp streets light the ground like lava. Infernal flames of my inner self. This is not what I want, but that does not matter anymore. As I walk down the street I take my journal, open it where I bookmarked it.\n\nTimothy C. Mason. 17. Cedar Street. Northbourgh.\n\nKill him without mercy, he is the one.\n\n\tThat’s all the information I need. The crimson lights seem to fade, to darkness.\n\n“Like Timothy” I chuckle to myself. \n\nI look to my left, Cedar Street, that’s the one.\n\nI knock on the door, it’s probably 20, 30 minutes past midnight, and he works late but he should be home now. “Come on Tim, don’t be scared.” The short man in the doorway looks innocent enough, not to me.\n\n\t“You” he said.\n\n\t“Yes me, what did you expect, actions have consequences.”\n\n\t“I, I thought you left town.”\n\n\t“I did, but there was nothing for me, I cannot work, I can barely do anything, as doing anything will trigger it.”\n\n\t“Do you…do you want to come in?”\n\nI make my way past the short man and to the living room. Sit down in the chair and make myself at home. He looks at me with disapproval, but he knows my condition, after all it is his doing.\n\n\t“Well, are you not going to offer me tea?”\n\n\t“Certainly”\n\nAs Timothy Mason prepares tea in the kitchen I look around, he seems to live a nice life. I guess ruining lives makes quite a profit.\n\n\t“There you go” as he hands me a roaring cup.\n\nI take a sip:\n\n\t“Ow”\n\nBurned my tongue.\n\n\t“Just a moment, I have to use the loo”\n\nI nod to him, now is my chance. I rush to his kitchen as soon as he leaves, grab a knife, putting on gloves first of course.\n\n\tAs Timothy opens the door I stab I feel it it is right he deserves it.\nNothing\n\n\tI don’t feel anything, what have I become?\n", "I've been reading more lately. Got this book from my anger management counselor that says we're all connected, that when I hurt someone else, I'm only hurting myself. I don't know about all that. It's a nice thought, but when was the last time I felt an organic connection, any indication that anyone understood anything? Not since I was little, real little. \n\nI have something to do now. Something that makes me feel the closest to connected I suppose I can. I'll try to read more later, try to open up my mind, but for now, this will have to do. I've done it for so long, like I was shown, that I dont even know how to stop. \n\nThe front of the house is dark. Just a small bathroom light in the back left on, for someone's comfort. It was so cold out here. I wanted to be inside, in the warmth, in the dull glow of the nightlight. \n\nThe window is unlatched still, just as I left it earlier. I had done this too many times to go in without preparation. I grabbed the tools I had stashed in the foreign basement earlier, and slowly, so slowly, I crept up the stairs. \n\nTo her bedroom, to the only place I can ever feel anything. I like to look for a minute. She sleeps on her right side, hands under her cheek. So soft and clean. So pretty and perfect. I couldn't get enough of that essence. \n\nI lay down gently beside her, so carefully, like I was shown long, long ago. I'll never forget that first time. It was such an experience, such a lesson. \n\nShe stirred slightly, unconsciously moving away from the presence she knew wasn't supposed to be there. She would slowly wake up, slowly become aware of her new reality. I waited patiently. This part was so very precious, so important. It was everything. \n\nShe opened her eyes, adjusting to the slight glow coming from the bathroom beyond her bedroom door. Realization slowly crept up her face, and I felt the thrill in my stomach. Just as I remembered, I could almost see young me watching my own mother awake those many years ago. Could see the gleam in the strangers hand as he slowly cut through her throat, its not quick and clean like on TV you know. He didn't see me laying beside my mother until the very end, until I had seen the whole show. \n\nBack to the task at hand. Before she could scream, before any whimper, I closed her mouth with the tape. He hadn't used tape, but I didn't care for the whining and pleading, it reminded me of a feeling I didn't want. Slowly, dragging the knife, slowly now, savor. \n\nI didn't see the kid until her blood splashed on him. The round, white face, the shocked confused eyes. Had I looked like that? \n\nSome say who we are is a result of how we have dealt with the biggest trauma or abuse of what have you. I know who I am. I guess I'll leave this kid to figure out who he's going to be. I'm done here, I got what I needed. The only way I can get that last moment of security back, right before everything was taken away, the only thing I'll ever feel, will always happen in a strangers dark bedroom. It's just the way it is. \n\nI'll check up on him. He might need some guidance. I know I wouldn't have been the same without it. ", "The officer stares me down while i am turned around. Standing over my victim, my goal finally accomplished. \n\n\n\"Why'd you do it? Why did you kill all those innocent people?\"\n\nBecause they were'nt as innocent as their personas portrayed them to be.\n\nThe officer still had his hand on the trigger, ready to fire. I could sense the barrel of his gun pointing me out like Wheres Waldo. Sweat slowrly dripping off the the chin nervously...no confused.\n\n\n\"What have these people ever done to deserve death? Well other than meeting a deranged psychopath like you!\"\n\n\nWell see this \"innocent\" guy as you would call him murdered his bestfriend and staged the crime scene to pin it on the bestfriends brother!! This \"innocent\" man is the reason... The reason a innocent man died before he should!!\n\ndont worry though, he was the last on my list please just walk away without further bloodshed...\n\n\nThe officer hesitated for a second. He quickly shook off the doubt steadly building up.\n\n\n\"You know i cant do that, i took a pledge to justice! Maybe if you come silently we can make a deal or something.\"\n\nAll I could do was smile at his innocence.\n\nOfficer do you know what happened to the bestfriend that died?\n\nI turn around so he can finally see my face clearly.\n\nThat child was claimed dead and burried. He only attempted to escape the coffin after awakeing from a trauma induced coma just in time to escape the closed coffin in the back of the hurse.\n\nI watch a tear fall from his eyes...\n\nIm that child officer and the justice system was to flawed to convict the real murderer! Dont you understand? I had too.\n\nI knew this was my last right. I cant die in jail like my brother. I reach for my gun and the officer fires 3 shots. I feel the world go black.\n\n\n\"Im here to hand in my gun and badge chief.\" The officer dropped his gun and badge on the table and walked away.\n\nIt was the last time he could serve under a flawed justice system. The last victim knew he would have to shoot if he reached for the gun, but he did it anyway. He was only doing what he thought was right. Only serving his own justice. The officer couldnt take the pressure anymore, or the pain.\n\nThat would be the last victim he ever killed...\n\n\n", "I thought I made this foil proof.\n\nYou can't set out on a mission and leave yourself any room to fail. Everything has to be planned to the finest point, so when things go wrong (and things do) you don't find yourself freaking out about how to get to the next step. Everything is there, and ready. I did that. Or I thought I did....\n\nThe concept was simple; complete random generation. Most of the others, they find themselves following patterns. That's a good way to get caught before the grand finale. If there is no pattern, no calling card, no connection, then there's no way to be found. But the problem with random selection is that there is a chance you'll have a connection.\n\nI have ran into that mistake. And only ten masterpieces into the project.\n\nI look down at Jessica. Poor girl. She was kind to me once, not long ago. She didn't look at my dead eyes and see a freak. She didn't hear me speak and cringe. She was just kind, for a moment. I remember her saying \"you would do the same if you saw me alone in a diner\". She said it with such conviction it was like the law required it. So sweet.\n\nIt's harder when I know the name. They don't become a number or statistic anymore. At least, that's what it seems like now. I don't usually bother with the names. But I know Jessica. Still, I could never be connected. That's the important part.\n\nJessica looks sweet asleep, but as I inject her with a little adrenaline to counteract the drugs. I wonder if she'll recognize me as wakes up, but her screams awake me from my questioning mind. There's a bit of luck for her.\n\n\"Jessica, you are in luck.\" I could hear her breath leave her from shock. Maybe it was my knowledge. \"You get the Shipman treatment, you'll just go back to sleep.\"\n\n\"I know you...\"\n\nThis struck me in a way words never had before. Strange. I turned away as she spoke, getting the needle ready.\n\n\"I know you... why?!? Why?!?\"\n\n\"I need a question answered. You're the 10th person I've asked. And I need you to be 100% honest.\"\n\nI turned, and saw the tears. This isn't unusual, but my reaction to it was. I wanted it to stop. I approached her, tied down to a table where I have disemboweled, lobotomized, drained, skinned, and mangled. Her crying was the most horrifying thing I've ever seen.\n\nI injected her, as a single large tear ran down her face. I could see it was effecting her quickly.\n\n\"Tell me what you see.... what do you feel as you die? Tell me what you feel.\"\n\nJessica took one of her final breaths.\n\n\"I'm sorry... whoever took your soul from you didn't leave you enough to understand. I feel at peace... and I forgive you.\"\n\nShe quickly goes to sleep, and the breathing stops. I stand over her, and confusion sets into my brain. Why would she forgive me? We are all dispensable. We are nothing but projects. Feelings are what you use to rationalize your being alive.\n\nI know my purpose, and I must finish it. So I sat at my journal and wrote these observations: \n\nProject 10: Codename Jessica\nMethod: Shipman (diamorphine)\nFinal Words: \"I forgive you\"\nHypothesis: Finds her strength in the concept of love and peace.", "\"I can't do it! For God's sake, don't make me do it again. Not to him...\" Henry started to sob as the grim figure in front of him stared solemnly. They were in a dimly lit, sparsely decorated room. The only light came from a few candles surrounding the sides of the room. The flickering of the lights and shadows gave off an illusion, as if the shadows were deciding whether or not they should consume the room in darkness.\n\nHenry continued to cry. The figure standing in front of him pulled a skeletal hand out of his robe and slapped him, hard. Henry looked at the robed figure in shock. \"Do you really think you have a choice? You agreed to do this, because you said you wanted to help people. Has that changed, Mr. Perry?\n\nHenry stood up, slowly. \"...no. I do. But I didn't know I'd have to kill for you! I'm not a murderer!\"\n\nThe robed man slapped Henry again. Henry gingerly touched his cheek as the figure began to angrily berate him. \"Don't you understand that what you're doing is for everyone's best interests? Do you want to see what will happen to Jenny when her father finds out his wife has been cheating on him?\"\n\nHenry's eyes widened in shock. \"Pam's been cheating? But she'd never-\"\n\nDeath shook his head grimly. \"She is. And your friend Fred will find out tomorrow. Can you imagine how he might react?\" His tone softened. \"I know it's not easy, but you do what needs to be done. You're not a murderer, Henry. You're a savior.\"\n\nHenry looked down at his feet. He realized he couldn't imagine what Fred might do if he found out his wife of ten years was cheating on him. The truth was, Fred might do anything. Maybe to anyone. \n\nHenry inhaled deeply, and looked back up at the reaper. \"Okay. I'll do it.\"\n\n-\n\n\"Why are you doing this? I thought we were friends!\"\n\nHenry advanced menacingly towards Fred. \"You don't understand, Fred. The pain. The pain.\"\n\nFred tried backing away, but hit a curb and landed hard. He tried to quickly scrambled up, but slipped on the pavement that had been made slick by the rain. \"Please, Henry. I've known you for years, we can work this out! We can deal with whatever pain you're in! There are doctors, scientists that can help. You - you don't have to do this!\"\n\nHenry forced himself to smile. \"Sorry Fred. You see - the only way to stop my pain, is to make sure that you don't feel any. Ever again.\"\n\nFred started sobbing. \"We've known each other since we were six, Henry. You were my best man! You're my kids' godfather for crying out loud. You can't-\"\n\nBang\n\n", "You must think I'm a scumbag, and I would have to agree with you. I'm not asking for pity or anything like that, hell, I agree that I deserve to be thrown in jail and locked away forever like a monster. Sometimes the urge is too strong and I can't help myself. I broke into this man's house, I had stalked him for weeks preparing for this moment. A part of me wishes he hadn't even come across me at the grocery store, especially when he told me about how happy his marriage was. \nHot tears begin to fall down my cheeks, now. I feel like a cold, emotionless machine. \n\nMy eyes look up to the various pictures strewn about the living room of his house. There's a bit of blood on a few of them, but that doesn't stop me from peering into the pictures that were there. There's a woman in a red dress with long, curly brown hair. She and the man are holding each other tightly with each picture showing them doing various activities. They look so happy. He looks so happy.\nBut I'd never do in a woman, no. That's too far, even for my liking. But him, he's got this look in his eyes in some of the photos. A dishonest look that I don't like, one that makes my chest feel cold. Was he cheating on her? Well, I guess he's not anymore. I just wanted to help her. I only wanted to ensure she was getting fair treatment. \n\nBut this fucker probably fooled around with another woman, like a fucking scoundrel hiding his secrets from his wife. She probably doesn't even know the clubs he's been to, the things he's done. I've seen. I've watched. \nMy rage begins to build as I think about it. Women are constantly getting cheated on, thrown about like objects that are just for men's pleasure. He's my eighth take and I say that proudly, because fucking men like him deserve to be put into the ground, and my baseball bat is like my instrument of justice and the blood of a corrupted, evil, cheating man spills and I can't stop.\n\nOh god, I can't stop that feeling. It feels like I'm doing the world a favor and taking out the trash, making people see relationships aren't a fucking thing to be taken lightly. Just because of what happened in the past, that makes -me- the bad guy? No, -I'm- the only one who can make the world right. I can fix these things, make these nice, beautiful young women find nicer and more faithful men to fall in love with.\n\nMy fingers are digging into my jeans. I'm crying hard. I can't tell if I did this woman right or wrong, but I know I at least disposed of her cheating fucking husband. I hold one of the pictures in my hand and take a good look at her. A smile breaks through my lips. \n\nI reach into my bag and take out the tape and bags. I can't stop fucking crying. I can't stop. Oh God, Jesus help me, I can't stop. ", "Journal Entry #726 - West Plains, Missouri\n\nIt's me again, Shannon. I promised I'd write to you each night, but I can't really. It's different since the sun dimmed. The world has gone to shit. I've been searching for something in my life that hasn't changed, but everything has. The tall grass is everywhere, and it scares me. The tall grass is everywhere my memories used to be. I went back to the farm after the twilight began. The grass grew up after we moved away. \n\nThat'd make a good song. Wouldn't it, Shannon?\n\n>Tall grass, it scares me. 'Cause it's every place my memories used to be. Like out on the farm where we laugh and played; the grass grew up when we moved away. Even that old dirt road where we walked to check the mail. The grass grew up and now it's just a trail.\n\nThat's about all I could come up with. Maybe next time, I'll write a little more of it. You know, if the Dusty Men don't get me. They seem to be multiplying. I encounter them more now than I used to. I think this twilight night that descended on this world came with a sickness. For the most part, everyone seems the same. They smile and mumble hellos when we pass, but every now and again, I see the way their eyes shine. I didn't know what that meant in the beginning, but I know now. They caught whatever the virus is that's been infected people. That's how it starts. First their eyes glitter, then later they become as grey as the sky, then they change.\n\nI get tired of killing them; the Dusk Men that is. The last one I was forced to kill wasn't very old. I came upon it while it was distracted on that old play ground down behind where that old elementary school used to be in Alton, before they built the new one. It was sitting on the ground, and it saw me while I was crossing. I swear it looked small as a child, but its face was all cracked and pitted like stone, and its eyes glowed almost red. I was nervous. I'd killed Dusk Men and even the women before that were around my size, but never one of their children. I felt bad after. While it lay upon its stomach, I could almost imagine that it was still human. I'm not ashamed to say that I fled. The others can smell the blood I think or seem to sense when one of their own is injured or killed. In St. Louis, I killed a Dusk Man out in a parking lot and a lot of the other Dusk Men chased after me. I killed several in St. Louis. I . . .\n\nYou know what? I don't really like talking about those I killed. I do it to survive and that's all. I don't want you to think about what I've done. When I killed that small one and fled, I stopped on the other side of the gymnasium to catch my breath and heard a mother wail. She was crying because someone murdered her child. If I'd only happened along sooner, I might have killed that little Dusk Man before it killed that poor women's kid.\n\nAnyway, I'll try and write more often. I hate to think you're up there in Heaven wondering why I haven't written to you. I hope you're up there in Heaven. I really do. I don't know if Dusk Men get to go to Heaven. I'm pretty sure they do. They used to be human before they got sick. You used to be human before you changed. I just have to believe you're up there looking down on me. Killing the monster that took over your body was the hardest thing I ever did. I miss you, Shannon. God, how I miss you. I just--I'm tired of this; this roaming and surviving. It isn't really much of a life, and the killing wearies me so. The only reason I haven't ended myself is because I know it's a sin. I still want to be with you after I die.\n\nHa. Ha. As fast as this sickness is spreading in the world, it won't be long I should think. I see the Dawn Men everywhere now. Sooner or later, they'll catch me, and we'll be together. Maybe, I'll finish that song before they overwhelm me and sing it to you when we're together again. You always liked that country music. I think you'd enjoy it.\n\nWell, goodbye, lover. As always, I'm sorry you got sick and became one of them. I'm sorry I was forced to put you out of your misery the way I did. I'm sorry we can't be together. Just hold on. Please? It won't be much longer.\n\nLove,\n\nDean" ]	7
	[WP] Write the farewell of two best friends that know they will never see each other again.	[ "\"Remember that time Mr. Holland was covered in spaghetti after the food fight?\" he asked, chuckling a little.\n\nShe smiled in remembrance, \"Yes, definitely that was the only time I've never seen him starched up from head to toe.\"\n\nHe sat back and took a slow sip of his coffee, and made a face. It was probably the worst coffee he's ever had in his life. She saw his face and teased, \"Coffee snob are we?\"\n\nRolling his eyes, he protested, \"You would make this face too if you drank it!\"\n\n\"Well fortunately for me, coffee and me don't mix very well,\" she replied mockingly. \n\nHe set his cup down and grasped her hand gently, it seemed so frail from someone he's always known to be so full of life. It was so unfair. She squeezed his hand as though knowing where his thoughts were going.\n\n\"Listen, I'm going to be okay. This is going to be better, I promise,\" she said softly.\n\n\"I just wish...\" he trailed off uncertainly, as his thoughts took a morbid turn. He glanced out the door at the hum of activity outside.\n\n\"I've made my peace with this, and now I only hope that you won't sink down after...\" she started.\n\n\"Janie, I love you! And this is not fair! You shouldn't be dying right now! We were supposed to go on the swings in the nursing home when we were too old to care what everyone else thought\" he yelled, finally unable to keep his thoughts inside.\n\nShe nodded, a faraway look in her eyes, \"I wish I didn't have to do this to you. We've been best friends since I moved in next door to your family when we were 5. But I don't have the strength to fight anymore and it hurts,\" she ended with a whisper and a slight wince as a tremor of pain hit her.\n\nHe held her hand tightly this time, \"I will miss you for the rest of my life Janie.\" He broke down sobbing, while she stroked his hair softly till his sobs slowly lessened.\n\n\"Nicky, I'll be going somewhere better, and I'll be waiting for you. But don't you dare come any earlier than you're supposed to! Promise me!\" she said.\n\nHe looked up at her with tear filled eyes, before he nodded reluctantly. She smiled at him, knowing how hard that promise was for him to make. There was no doubt that he would keep it, he had always kept his promises to her.\n\nShe tried to stifle her yawn, but he saw it and gave a start. \"Janie, if you're tired, sleep don't try to stay awake for my sake.\" \n\n\"You don't have to, it's going to be quite boring watching me sleep, Nicky.\"\n\n\"I promised your parents I'd take care of you, and I will to the very end,\" he remarked.\n\nShaking her head slowly, she closed her eyes and grasped his hands as tightly as she could, \"I love you Nicky, I'll see you later.\" He smiled, \"Sleep Janie, I'll be here when you wake up.\"\n\nAs her breathing slowly evened out, he got up ready the couch to take a nap himself. The night nurse came and eyed him amused, \"You know you shouldn't still be here, Nicholas\"\n\n\"I know, Nurse Joyce, but I couldn't bear to leave her all alone. Her parents passed away some time ago and she never married. I'm all she's got left,\" he said pleadingly.\n\n\"Alright, well I'm in here to take her vitals, go down and get a cup of coffee or something so I can tell them no one was here when I took her nightly vitals,\" she said reassuringly.\n\nHe smiled brightly at her and ran his hand through his hair ruffling the already mussed mess atop his head before getting up and heading out the door. He glanced back once at the threshold of the door at Janie's peaceful form before heading down the hall towards the coffee machine.\n\nHumming softly to himself he waited for the steaming cup of coffee to cool just enough for him to sip it slowly. It usually took some time before the nurse would be done with her nightly routines. He sipped it slowly, before heading back to Jane's room.\n\nIt was utter chaos, nurses running back and forth and doctors inside yelling directions. He started running towards her room before a forceful hand stopped him. Glancing down he saw the face of a sympathetic nurse who firmly grasped his arm to not allow him to run back into her room.\n\n\"Janie! I just saw her! She was fine!\" he yelled at no one in particular.\n\nHe heard a loud beeping as the crash carts worked on Janie. As the nurses slowly shuffled out with grim looks on their faces, he started crying even before the doctor told him.\n\n\"She was fine! I just saw her!\" he sobbed as he rocked back and forth in the chair.\n\nHe walked back into her room and saw Janie again, but it didn't look like her. The girl on the bed didn't look like his best friend, not anymore. It got too hard to look at her so he slowly walked towards the exit, he needed to clear his head.\n\nWalking out of the hospital he headed towards the little playground that was close by. The last thing he saw was the bright light, heard a loud screech, and felt a splash of pain before everything went black.", "i love you man. im crying so hard right now writing this and i cant even keep my hands still. im sorry. im so sorry. i dont want to go i want to tell them that i cant go and that ill stay here forever with my friends and never let you go and we can fucking run around in the snow and cry about stupid shit no one cares about for the rest of our lives just like we do right now but i cant.\n\n this is growing up i guess. this sick part of being a human that we cant escape. \n\ni wish there could just be one more time. one more sleepless night spent debating philosophy and making music no one likes and photoshoping stupid fucking memes ironically because were cool. \n\nlisten i want you to know that no matter what. no matter where we go even though we will never see each other again and never know what happens to each other we will always be friends. that doesnt end no matter what.we will never forget each other ok? \n\n\n-levi", "Tears were running down his face, mixing in with all of the blood and snot. “Why” was the only thing he could say for the first half an hour, but then he grew tired of it. You could still him not wanting to waste the energy, to even hold back from crying in the hopes that he could enjoy the last few moments just a little bit more. “Evan.” I said, placing my hand on his chest. “Look at me.”\n\nHe shifted his focus from the ceiling to me, you could see the pain in his eyes when he locked onto me. A reminder of everything that he experienced, everything that happened, and all that he'd miss. “I do love you.” The barrier broke, and the crying started again, followed by him saying why and screaming again. Another 10 minutes of me holding his hand, with him gripping so hard that he nearly shattered bone, he stopped. My hand was still on his chest, feeling his heartbeat as he rose and fell through the emotions.\n\n“I know you don't believe that I love you, but I do. I love you more than anyone that I have ever known, and from the second that I met you. I've never wanted to spent my life with you, I wanted to spend it by your side. I wanted us to be the closest friends we ever could be. And for a long time, we were.” Tears were welling up in his eyes as he asked “Then why aren't we now?” I shook my head, saddened that he still didn't understand. I needed him to before time ran out, I needed him to know why before it was too late. \n\n“We are friends Evan. We've never been closer, but I just can't help it anymore. Things got out of my hands, and I don't know what to do anymore. I can't fight it, and you can't either.” Now it was my turn to start crying, my tears falling on his bare flesh. “Everything in my life has been leading up to this moment, everything about us was driving me here, and as happy as I am for all we've had, I can't stop what's going to happen next. And it's something that you and I are going to need to experience alone.” \n\nThe weeping started again, as he finally understood. He finally got that it wasn't my fault, that I couldn't change anything that was about to happen. I could hear the weeping turn to moans of fear, when he saw me grab the axe off of the nearby table. “I love you” I whispered, closing my eyes. I pulled back, raising the axe above my head and bringing it down with as much force as I could. The blade burrowed into his chest, the last audible words being “NONONO” from him before the blood started to gurgle in his mouth and throat, blocking anything he was about to say. I pulled back, hearing the suction and stick of the blood, feeling the spatter across my face and chest. I brought it down again, and again, until the only sound was from the axe, and no longer his throat. \n\nI dropped the tool, the heavy iron clattering to the ground. My arms wrapped around his corpse, head placed on the mess of his chest that was left. His eyes were wide open, mouth warped into an eternal scream. I kissed him on the cheek, holding him and wishing that what happened hadn't. The man on my shoulder whispered to me, saying that it was over now but I knew that it was just starting again. Evan had helped me ignore him for so long, but I couldn't stay away from him anymore. As much as I loved Evan, I just couldn't help myself anymore. \n\nThe whispered continued, telling me to clean the mess up. I sobbed as I chopped up his body, wrapping it in plastic and trucking it far into the forest. I ditched it all, leaving it in various places for scavangers to find and devour, kissing his forehead once more before I rolled it down a hill. Thank god he was able to understand. Now I have his blessing to accept myself for who I am and to move on with the man again, to be happy.", "The bus doors folded open with a hydraulic hiss.\n\n\"Where are you going?\"\n\nHe turned around, the bookbag slung over his shoulder swinging. \n\"Back home,\" his friend answered. \"My parents...\"\n\n\"How long?\"\n\n\"...I won't be coming back.\"\n\n\"WHAT? That's preposterous! There's still... Senior year! You're leaving school?\"\n\n\"I knew I wasn't going to stay long when I transferred here two years ago.\"\n\n\"But there's so much you haven't done! You can't just step on a bus and leave this narrative! We have to flesh out your backstory, make you relatable, hook you up with a date! Your character can't just vanish like that!\"\n\n\"Don't worry,\" the friend said, stepping forward and placing a hand on his shoulder. \"The reason I came in the first place... wasn't to be an important character myself. My job wasn't to be interesting. It was to be at your side, and to help, always help; and, ultimately, to get you and her to realize that you are perfect for each other. You're together now. That's all I wanted, for you to be happy. Because you're the main character. And now it's my turn to leave.\"\n\n\"No! You can't leave, not yet! All this time, you've tried to make me happy, but you haven't experienced it yourself! You've sacrificed your beautiful school life here for me! I'm the main character, I can make something happen!\" \n\nThe bus driver honked the horn, shooting them an annoyed look.\n\n\"Goodbye,\" the friend said. \"Take care of yourself. Though now, you and her can take care of each other...\"\n\n\"WHAT ABOUT YOU?\" he shouted back, as the doors closed and the bus began to move. \"NOOO! YOU CAN'T LEAVE THE STORY LIKE THIS! YOU HAVE TO BE MY FRIEND! YOU NEED TO LIVE OUT YOUR LIFE! YOU DESERVE IT!! TOMODAAAAAA!!!\"\n\nIt was futile. The bus disappeared over the horizon, chased by the lazy orange rays of the setting sun, and Tomoda the side character vanished, never to return to the campus of Stereotypical High. \n\nUntil one special episode, to be released months, years even, into the future, when he would make his triumphant return, to aid Main-Character-kun once again... Will MC-kun find a way to repay him then? Ah, but that's a story for another day.", "I had to be more drunk than I'd ever been before to text him at all. For some reason I kept doing it sober. I just wanted to see him one last time. For reasons, he refused. He was worried she'd be jealous. So we texted. I didn't have the courage to call.\n\n\"I'll see you someday, I'll make it happen.\"\n\n\"Yup. Later.\"\n\nFor a day I believed it. Then I realized the last words he'd ever get from me would be a lie.", "\"I'll come to visit as often as I can.\"\n\nHe smiled and nodded, \"Of course. I look forward to it.\"\n\n\"I just wish it wasn't so far.\"\n\nHe shrugged, \"Me too, but that's where I have to go.\"\n\nThey smiled briefly at each other, bittersweet, then shook hands.\n\n\"Goodbye.\"\n\n\"Goodbye.\"", "Jared sat down, the reality of the situation hitting him only now. Raiders at the reinforced metal doors, food supplies low, and only a little bit of ammo left. Conflicting emotions rode across his face, first rage at his impending doom, then sadness at a metric tonne of life left unlived, then horror at the pain he’d go through. As he began to shake from it all, Sean came into the room, quiet as a mouse. \n“Hey, Jared.” Sean said, his voice flat in the nearly empty room. \n“Huh? Oh, hi Sean.” Jared answered, staring intently at the large doors that were beginning to creak at the hinges. \n“Everyone’s packed and ready to go. I was wondering…” Sean trailed off, unable to finish the already asked question. \n“No, I’m holding them here. If I don’t distract them long enough, they’ll be right on your ass. If I do my job, you’ll be long gone and safe.” Jared looked away from the door for just a moment, to stare at Sean. “Promise me you’ll get to safety Sean?” \n“I’ll do my best.” Sean cleared his throat, it was only tight because of the air here, that’s all. “Listen, Jared, if you make it, you should know where we’re heading.” \n“No, I’m not making it you numbskull.” Jared said lightly, Almost kindly. “When they get in, I’m done for. And if they don’t kill me…” Jared felt bile rise at the back of his throat. He knew what humans could do to people they didn’t like, and the thought only made him want to stand and fight more. \n“Just… just go, Sean.” Jared was finally calm, resigned to his fate. Sean opened his mouth, hoping to find the words… and settled for simply patting Jared on the shoulder. Jared grasped the hand on his shoulder once and nodded before watching Sean head to the exit. \nJared checked his weapon one last time. A full thirty round magazine, and if he took his time with shooting he could take out thirty raiders. The doors in front of him had traps in place, a few trip mines and one automated defense turret. All in all, he would last about five minutes. But five minutes was more than enough time for Sean to get away. \nSean… \nJared had never told Sean everything, his feelings chief among them. As he heard the doors begin to finally give way, Jared realized he could have said good bye a better way. Tell Sean the truth, tell him that… That… \n“I loved you. With all my heart, I wanted you to be mine, and me to be yours… I wanted… I want you to live.” Jared finally admitted. A weight off his chest, like he had worn armor for weeks and only know had it removed. As the door finally opened, Jared said one last thing. “You better God damn live, Sean.” \nRifle at the ready, Jared totally forgot the trip mine. As soon as a thin wiry man stepped through the door, movement jittery like a puppet, the explosives went off. Jared was nearly bowled over by the force, and then the concussive ‘THUD-THUD-THUD!’ of the turret pounded at his ears. Fear pumped through his veins, and Jared looked over the barrier at the busted door. \nA swarm of flesh, angry and dirty, mobbed at the hole. Jared put the barrel of the rifle over the barrier, aimed carefully, and began to mash the trigger. In what felt like a second, but was in reality thirty of them, the magazine was dry. Jared pulled the trigger, and heard the deafening nothing of the empty gun. Nearly pissing himself, he sat behind the barrier again and waited for the end. \nHe pulled out his wallet, clumsy from the adrenaline, and managed to thumb through to the picture of his family, and next to it Sean’s graduation picture. Finally, the turret made a whirring noise, and Jared knew it was out. \nWith a sigh, Jared stood up and looked to the hole. In it was a woman, covered in blood, and behind her was a crowd of people that looked no smaller than it had when the assault first began. \n“You’re all they left?” She asked, incredulous. \n“I’m all that was needed.” Jared lied. What they had needed was a squad of elite commandos, and what they had was him. \nThe girl nodded and charged, running him through with a rusty knife. Jared coughed and held onto the girl. \nI was never this close to Sean… so much left to do… \nAnd with that, Jared died.\n", "HEART\n\n“I guess it’s too late to say anything that would change your mind.”\n\nOne twitch. Yes. And a mild sense of disapproval.\n\n“I know, man. Don’t get me wrong, I love her too but … you’re my brother. Bros for life, you know?”\n\nOne twitch.\n\n“I guess … it’s just I don’t know what I’ll do without you. What life will be like without you. Looks like I’m even more scared than you are.”\n\nTwo twitches. No. Shit, I shouldn’t have said that.\n\n“Sorry, I mean … you look so cool about it. Peaceful.”\n\nOne twitch. And fierce determination. Pride. Love. Duty. \n\nI feel a flash of heat across my face that shoots down my neck. My eyes are watery now.\n\n“I’ll take care of her for you. You know that right?”\n\nOne twitch. Peaceful again.\n\n“I just wish they could save both of you. It’s fucking bullshit that there’s a 6 month waiting period for a new heart. And 5 months for a lung. This whole accident is just bullshit. That fucking idiot, drink driving? Really? Putting other people in danger? Bullshit. Bullshit. Bullshi –”\n\nSqueeze. That was new. My vision is blurry now but I blink away the tears and I see reassurance. Really? He’s reassuring me? \n\n“Are you ready?” It’s the doctor’s voice; he stands awkwardly before us because he knows he’s going to lose one life today. Even if he saves another.\n\nMy friend struggles up against the pillows. His breath is rasping, harsh, choked … he can’t breathe properly with his crushed lungs, and yet …\n\n“Yes,” he croaks firmly, as though he could speak all along. Fierce determination to save the girl he loves. Too prideful to appear weak. Too in love to think twice about giving his life. A life he offered without a second thought out of his sense of duty as the man in their relationship. A relationship that was a fairy tale until it was brought crushingly to an end by the existence of one idiot behind the wheel. An idiot who survived with some bruises and cuts.\n\nThey wheel him out but my legs are gone. I can’t feel them. They won’t move. They won’t follow. I can’t watch him disappear forever but I can't follow him to his end.\n\n“Doc?” I ask weakly. “Is there really nothing you can do? Nothing to stop someone dying?”\n\nHe looks at me with his gaunt eyes and I see the pain behind them. It’s chronic. The eyes of a veteran who has lost too many people, seen too many things. Despair doesn’t do it justice. It is a haunting look, as if the spectre of death has cursed the eyes he looks through.\n\n“Son, someone will always die. There’s never enough organ donors. She has a severe myocardial contusion from the impact, but her lungs are fine. His left lung is crushed and right lung is slowly filling with blood due to the pulmonary laceration, but his heart is fine.” The doc blinked, as if realising something. His despairing look lifts a little, as if he has found a small slice of salvation. “No, more than fine. He has a great heart. Beautiful. Strong. He gave it up without hesitation. As soon as I mentioned this to him. He can barely breathe enough to speak but he told me straight away, ‘take my heart’. She’s unconscious so we can’t get her consent to take a lung. The only thing I can do is to honour his bravery and save his partner.”\n\nThe doctor stops talking but I still hear a whine. A high pitched static. It fills my ears and cuts through the silence. I didn’t take in much – I knew most of this already. I just hate that in the last moments I’ll ever see my best friend, I got more words from his doctor than him.\n", "The cry to affix bayonets echoed down the line, calling every soldier to attention.\n\n\"Well, this ain't gonna be a walk in the park eh??\"\n\n\"Yeh. We'll manage. Better this than being stuck back in the tents with trench foot.\"\n\n\"Aye, I'd take shot full o' bullets over 'avin me legs rot off any day..\"\n\n\"Say, you got a cig on you?\"\n\n\"Nah, don't fink I do.\"\n\n\"Fantastic.\"\n\nThe two stood peacefully in the silence, the calm before the storm that would surely capsize them both. \n\n\"You know somethin?\"\n\n\"Yeh?\"\n\n\"I think we're gonna die\"\n\n\"Nahhh, don't talk like that. We'll be fine\"\n\nHe knew it was a lie.\n\n\"'Malright. I finally made peace with Tom about stealin' his last pair of clean socks earlier\"\n\n\"Heh. Figure he'd have jabbed you on his bayonet sooner than forgive you for that\"\n\n\"Well, I bet my last cig helped smooth it over.\"\n\n\"You cheeky shite, givin' away ciggies and asking for some from me! See if I ever share one with you again\" He teasingly smacked his comrade on the helmet.\n\n\"Prepare to charge lads!\"\n\n\"Good luck bruv.\"\n\n\"You too friend. See you in the next line?\"\n\n\"Bet you my last pair of clean underwear I make it there first.\"\n\n\"Right, you better make good on that promise. If I make it across I'll surely need 'em\"\n\nThe two shared a last pleasant chuckle before the whistle sounded.", "\"You know that I still love you?\" He asks. \n\n\"Yes, I do.\" She replies. \n\n\"Do you still love me?\" He knows her answer.\n\n\"Of course.\" She affirms. \n\n\"But if I go, you'll be happy.\" He sounds unsure. \n\n\"No, I don't want that.\" Her voice wavers. \n\n\"But you won't be happy unless I'm gone.\" He corrects himself. \n\nHer heart hurts. She stares ahead, unable to speak. Tears form around the edges of her delicate eyes. Silent and sullen. \n\n\"I love you.\" His declaration. \n\n\"I'm sorry.\" She reflects. \n\nHe looks at his shoes before he can catch himself and right his gaze. Finally stating,\n\n\"I wish we could have been better.\" \n\n\"Me too.\" She concurs. \n\n\"Goodbye\" His hands begin to tremble in his pockets while he looks into her dark green grass eyes. \n\n\"I love you.\" She concedes, as he turns and begins to walk away. \n\nHe does not stop. \n\n\"I know.\" He admits. \n", "She said we would see each other again. We both knew she was lying. But sometimes a sweet lie is better than the truth. It can be better to hear what we want to than what we need to. I looked at her face. I really did. Tried to take in every single detail. The way her eyes just started to wrinkle when she smiled, the way her hair fell around her ears. But it was like pressing a flower. You can preserve it forever, but it’s never the same. A tear formed in her eye, just beginning to spill over her perfect eyelid, clinging to it, hanging as a drop of beautiful sadness. She blinked, and the tear began its journey. \n\n“I’ll see you too”. I made the promise in the same false hope. For this moment, words were lies. We each knew what the other meant when they spoke, but it cut too deep to hear it plain. It was easier this way. I remembered back to when we first met, how she had filled the room with her laughter. But not all laughter reaches the core. We now knew each other well enough for me to see through the façade, to see the broken figure hidden deep down. It pained me to leave her, but there was really nothing I could do. Sometimes when life conspires to send you in a direction, all we can do is go along for the ride. At least she loved me enough to lie to me. \n\nThe tear had reached her delicate jaw, and clutched longingly at her face for the shortest moment, before leaving her forever, dashed against the airport floor. I looked down at the tiny puddle marring the patterned linoleum, and I fought the urge to add to it. Instead I extended my hand. Some goodbyes got more painful the longer they went on. It was easier to get it over with. She took my hand, her delicate fingers warm against my palm. On her wrist I could just see the shine of the scars where her sleeve had pulled away from her arm. Each of those scars hurt me too. They represented a failure. I forced myself to look into her eyes. They were slightly red-rimmed, but it was the deep green pits that took me in. I could only hold eye contact for a second before looking down again at my feet. A garbled boarding call echoed through the nearly empty terminal. She drew in a breath. It was time. I choked out a goodbye and watched as she wheeled her suitcase out of my life.\n", "It’s not some sappy sad sob story, it’s true ok? I’m for real right now, I don’t care if you believe me or if you understand or whatever. I think this toward the cars that drive by, daring them to stop and roll down their windows or peer through the tinted glass at the crying 21-year-old boy smoking a cigarette on his porch on a drizzling Sunday morning. They’re going to church, why else would anyone be up at eight thirty?\n\nUnless, last night, they texted their girlfriend they were alone at home and she replied, “I’m coming over.” Unless, last night, they had the culminating talk in a series of talks, that led to a long silence punctuated by deep breaths, unless they got in her car and went to her place because the roommates awkwardly got home and she wanted somewhere to be alone, and they went to her room and shut the door so they could keep talking. Unless they stayed there all night with her, dozing off occasionally but talking in mumbles about weren’t we great together and didn’t we have good times, it’s really too bad about the timing though. Maybe if we’d met later, like next semester, or if we were different people.\n\nI don’t remember the last time I cried. It feels different than I thought it would, like as you’re doing it you’re not even thinking about crying, your mind is somewhere a hundred miles away and, incidentally, your face is crying at the same time. I’ve never smoked alone, and I’ve never smoked anytime but late at night. Another car drives by. I was about to go to Walmart last night before I texted her – I’ve been out of toothpaste for two days and I was going to go last night but I texted her first. \n\nThe familiar up-all-night tiredness hasn’t set in yet. One time last night while she’d slumped down next to me in her bed, asleep for a while, I looked at the white moonlight that dropped in horizontal bars across her face, serrated by the parted, angled shades on her bedroom window. I could smell her hair; it splayed over the pillow so she looked like she was underwater, frozen. The statue-esque calm of her face artistically contrasted by the tear-tracks on her cheeks. \n\nI feel the now-familiar warmth on the backs of my first two fingers as the cigarette burns toward its filter. I take a final pull and flick it theatrically into the yard, glaring at a car sloshing by through the brown curbside puddle. Its taillights waver in my watery vision. \n\nI met her at a dance, and we danced every song together all night, on accident, without noticing. We’d walked around the neighborhood holding hands for the rest of the night and watched the sunrise from my roof. This morning when she dropped me off we’d sat in the car, silent, as the green, squared clock numbers moved from 8:14 to 8:21, then I moved to kiss her on the cheek, didn’t, and got out of the car and shut the door and looked at her not looking at me through the window and its spattering of immobile raindrops. I walked up to the porch, heroically refusing to look back as I listened to her pull away, fade into the sounds of the early morning.\n\nWent inside and got cigarettes, stood on the porch, cried. Crying. It starts in my chest, a hollow, gasping pulsation that clutches my throat and contorts my face. Tears are a final expulsion of a tense, full-body endeavor. My mouth tastes dry and like tar and I’m still out of toothpaste.\n\nIn my mind: I snatch up a folding lawn chair by its blue armrest and hurl it into the yard, stride to it and pick it up and throw it into a car driving past. The driver climbs out yelling and we fight in the street, brutally.\n\nIn my mind: I turn, open the door, go inside, wash my smoke-smelling hands and brush my foul-tasting mouth with my roommate’s toothpaste, get into bed and fade, for days.\n\nAnother few cars, a gust of wind. Slowly, my arms and legs engage in a sympathetic collaboration to lower me into the worn blue lawn chair. All I can think about is her, what’s she doing, is she okay. Sitting, crying, head in hands, staring: it feels like I’m waiting for something important to happen. I should go inside, it’s wet and on the verge of cold. I should stand up, stop crying, and go inside. I should. \n\nIt feels like defeat, a somehow heavily symbolic action. I’m not suddenly a man, I haven’t lost my innocence or discovered a truth of life. I’ve had my heart broken is all. I wander through the house toward my bed, but in a way I’m still waiting on the porch. I take off my shoes slowly, methodically, but my eyes are still squinting against the sunrise, my ears listening to cars hissing by on their way to various churches, the corners of my mouth tasting tears and smoke.\n\nIt’s been two weeks and I still see moonlit bars and green dashboard clocks, still smell her hair and hear her tires grinding away behind me. The point isn’t that, two weeks later, I suddenly discovered what I was waiting for on the porch that morning. The point is that, two weeks later, I’m still not sure I’m ready to come inside. I should. But I’m waiting. \n" ]	12
	[WP] In 1750, small pockets of civilization were discovered on Mars. Initial observations appear to show these societies to be primitive compared to our own. Today, and with 200+ years of observation and exponential investment in space exploration, we are heading to see them for ourselves.	[ "\"Well, I remember the day better than anything else. It was the day everything changed, you see!\" Grandma was at it again. \"I was a young girl back then, barely seven years old if I was a day, but I remember clear as crystal, mister!\"\n\nGrandma always went on rants like this. Especially since dad took away her pills. Oh well, the old bird has some good stories and what else is a history major home from the holidays gonna do? I nodded some general encouragement and asked my grandma what happened. Truth be told I could tell the story better than she could at this point. I didn't get the President wrong at least.\n\n\"Well, it must've been important! We bought our first television just for that day. The astronauts had some kind of wireless contraption for sending pictures back to us. Utterly amazed I tell you! Now I'm getting distracted. Well, it had been some time in the making. After the first successful flight of a rocket by that Tesl'r fella we was damn--s'cuse my language, dear--we were damn set on gettin' to those red fell'rs.\n\n\"And wouldn't you believe it, there we were. We had seen 'em for a long time now, you know this though. Years of hoighty-toity professor types tellin' us what they 'knew' about these here Martians. Well they knew bum-kiss I tell yah! That Marcell Maus fell'r was just plain wrong. Oh he got a lot of play after we touched down, oh boy. 'Primitive rust cannibals' my wrinkled ass!\"\n\n\"Grandma!\"\n\n\"Sorry dear, I just get so excited. Anyway, we touch down and the TV comes alive. We didn't get sound back then, but by George you knew the astronaut was crappin' his space pants when that first Martian came forward. And it just kept comin'! Then another! Darn bugs were forty feet long! And wider 'round than the ship them space cowboys used to get to Mars! And well, the rest you know dear. It was too much for my poor ma' and she shut off the TV before I could see any more. But one day those Martians will evolve and leave their rock. For now, it's probably best that we do leave them alone. You know Commander Shadwell's autobiography Disfigured, Distraught and Doomed.\"\n\nThis was new, I actually hadn't read that one yet and I told her as much.\n\n\"Well hun', give it a read some time.\"", "The villagers watched politely as they demonstrated the solar panels and the automated mill. High-pitched clicks abound in the back, where a few children were watching. \"No effort!\" he cajoled, sifting the new flour through his hands. \"Good flour.\"\n\n\"We thank you for your efforts, kind sir,\" a different voice said behind him. Its tone almost matched human vocal chords where he struggled to mimic their clicks and polyphonic shifts. If you would come with me?\"\n\nThere wasn't any choice of not going. Unlike the villagers' primitive clothing the newcomers wore glittering fabrics and shiny plates, feathers neatly preened and held back, and had what he presumed was weapons wielded by an entire squad. His people had been rounded up from around the village and herded to the empty village square. The shimmering block was new.\n\nWithout ceremony they were marched through its sides.\n\nThe next step takes them to a tower in the middle of a massive structure. He could see in far distance far more bird-creatures than he ever thought there ever was. \n\n\"Again?\" or so he thought he heard. Here they didn't bother slowing down their speech for human's benefit.\n\n\"Code 12,\" his escort voice slides.\n\n\"Ah, I see. Missionaries again?\" The new bird-creature rasps and clicks. \"Spreading god's word and introducing civilisation to the unfortunate,\" it spoke in human language. \"Stupid earthlings. We really should just take back the planet instead of this reconstruction efforts.\" It had switched back to its language.\n\n\"Excuse me,\" he said. \"Take back?\"\n\nA floating earth appeared before them, a red mark streaked through its surface. It took him a second to realise what it was. \n\n\"I see you know what this is,\" it spit out. \"Watch.\"\n\nAll around the ancient earth white ships were coming through the atmosphere. They watched in formation as earth burned before slowly they left, one by one.\n\n\"Very few record survived. We only managed to piece this from a ship that didn't make it, stranded in space for tens of million years ago. We found the planet we came from, and its infested.\"\n\nA deep slide of sound with echoing shifts came from their escort - he recognised their name in its formal call, but beyond that he could not understand.\n\n\"Sorry,\" the bird-creature did not look or sound contrite at all, \"We build a recreation of our old world on the next planet. Popular tourist spot - live like before the great migration. If only pests aren't buzzing around.\"\n\nA clatter of familiar, long unheard boots came. He turned to see men in space wing uniforms. The introductions were routine - they had done this before.\n\nIt took a second at the observation port to realise the ship they were packed on were moving away from bot Mars and Earth. \"Where are we going?\" he asked. \n\n\"Terra space station RLNT22, at the-\" intricate clicks and slides \"capitol. There aren't many humans that manage the clearance to even know about them, and we could always use some new janitors,\" the officer that picked them up said. \"You broke the Mars interdiction order. Five years community service minimum. Course, you can't afford for tickets back until the next ten years after that, if you're lucky. Welcome to space,\" he grinned.", "That’s an odd sensation. The wind blew strongly around me. I looked down. I saw the stake firmly rooted in my chest. Red hues from dust and flames flickered across my body in the darkness. A slow trickle of blood made its way around the rough edges of the puncture and dripped slowly down my breast plate. \"Not strong enough\", I thought. Definitely leaking air now. If there were sounds around me I had fallen oblivious to them. Figures moved around me, but I paid them no attention.\n\nBoth my hands were idle now. I must have dropped my carbine. I thought I heard my name. What's my name? I slowly lifted and wrapped my right hand around the protruding object. Not wood. Not metal. Stone maybe? Unlike any stone I've seen. I dropped to my knees. I didn't feel it, I just noticed the ground seemed closer, and guessed that was the case. \n\nI gently tilted my head back to see the night sky. \"Earth,\" I thought, as I stared at the bright dot in the sky. My vision faded to black.\n\n\n\n-------------------------------\nEight Months Earlier:\n-------------------------------\n\n\n\nI'm fairly certain I pissed myself. I'm glad this suit recycles that sort of thing.\n\n \"Final cabin leak checks complete,\" the speaker buzzed.\n\nNo turning back now. You'd think my comfort in high-altitude jumps would translate to space flight, but it doesn't. AirCarrier evacuations? As long as I have a parachute, fine. Random CruiserJet ejection tests? Bring it on. It's being confined that bothers me. Sealed. Knowing that if the massive load of jet fuel under my ass decides to ignite, I'm just a little bean in a pressure cooker. No way out.\n\nMy thoughts bounced from the surreal intensity of the moment to fear to excitement. For a moment, I'm glad to be here. Just to see what happens next. To be one of the first, or whatever. The Council begrudgingly allotted space for three of us. Rangers. We're fighters. Best of the best. Military's finest. Whatever cliche names and phrases you want to throw our way. That's us. We go where we're needed. But the military is largely just for show now. A relic of times past. It's usually a few years in between missions for us. There's so little fighting on the planet anymore. That wasn't the case after the discovery in 1750. After a century of blood, war started declining. Almost all types of crime were virtually gone by 1920 as the planet united.\n\nNow I'm serving this band of geeks. Fine by me. They think we're unnecessary. They know this Martian species well. Decades of studying them from a far. Then another few decades with probes. \"Hey, you guys know we've been eavesdropping on every aspect of your existence for the past 30-something years right?\" I don't think that statement is included in their first contact protocol manuals. \n\nThe chatter continued on the speaker. Fuel check this, three-letter acronym that. I only pay attention when they announce the time.\n\n \"60 seconds and counting...\"\n\nThis isn't my first launch. I spent six months on the Global Space Station. Another three on the moon during advanced combat training. That sucked. Crawling in an Orbital Combat Suit under plasma wire with live rounds firing overhead is not easy. Physically or psychologically. But I've always been able to hack their tests. One man couldn't, though. Stood up half way through. Getting blasted in low gravity isn't the same as on earth. I sometimes wonder if half of his body parts are still in orbit somewhere. More likely they burned up getting pulled down to earth. At least part of him made it back home. Recycled into the atmosphere. Breathe deep.\n\n \"30 seconds and counting...\"\n\nA beaming, progressive attitude for the growth of the species as a whole. That's the attitude of almost every human on earth now. The World Council is barely necessary as a governing body. Scientific progress takes the forefront in almost all of humanity's actions. Exponentially increasing closer to this day. Of course. I get it. To progress. Exploration. Contact of another species. The cosmos. Beyond.\n\n \"10... 9... 8... 7...\"\n\nI just find myself skeptical of the unbridled optimism that seems to be universally shared by my fellow creatures. The drivers behind this mission are a particularly fanatical group. A crowd of dreamers, doers, explorers, and scientists. Men and women of which I've always felt I understood, but shared little in common with. Maybe I'm too dark. Jaded. Maybe it's because I'm one of the few humans who's ever had to take another human life. There's only been a dozen of us or so in the past century. But let them have their dreams. If the world were made of men like me, far less would be accomplished. But we'd have a damned good time on that rock, whatever it looked like.\n\n \"3... 2... 1... 0... Liftoff!\"", "Lost World\n\nColonel Harlan Novak stepped off the Orion lander onto the dusty reddish soil of Mars. He had kept his helmet on since the instruments showed high levels of carbon dioxide immediately outside the ship. Major Carla Saunders came down the ladder behind him, equally unsettled by what they found.\n\nThe gravity was slightly less than Earth's, which made it easy to move, even with the relatively bulky spacesuits that NASA had designed for the first humans to land on the Red Planet. NASA designers had made sure that the suits were thick and tough enough to protect them from the harsh environment that previous missions, including Opportunity, had found. Or, if they needed to bail out in orbit around Mars, that they could still survive the fall.\n\nThere was nothing to worry about in orbit around the planet. No planetary defences that might shoot them out of the sky, no satellites looking for them, nothing. Novak had radioed back to Houston as Orion floated around in the gravity well above Mars, while Captain James Trigger scanned the surface for a suitable landing site that would allow them to receive messages from home base as well as the ship.\n\nTrigger's best guess was a major valley on the near side of the planet. There was evidence of structures, roads, even aquaducts, everything they expected based on what Opportunity had beamed back to Earth a few years before.\n\nNovak and Saunders strode forward through the red sands that covered the place, piling up in drifts against concrete-style buildings that were pock-marked and broken, windows shattered and portions of walls dangling from iron rods sticking out of the damaged structures.\n\n\"Colonel,\" Saunders said into her microphone. \"Something doesn't look right here.\"\n\nNovak nodded, but his suit didn't budge a fraction of centimeter. \"I know what you mean,\" he finally replied.\n\nThere were some vehicles, primative by Earth standards, laying shattered in the streets and filled with red sand. Novak pointed at the nearest one. \"Take a look at that,\" he ordered.\n\nSaunders shuffled through the dust, bent at an angle so she could look into the rusting hulk. There was nothing other than loose wires and ruined seats. \"Nothing here, Colonel.\"\n\nNovak had walked off at an angle to her to examine a small, one-story building that was missing the entire corner and most of its roof, so he got a clear view inside. A broken countertop stood there and a number of shelves lined the walls, but nothing else. Not even a broken jar or discarded box. \"Same here.\"\n\nFirst Lieutenant Wesley North finally caught up with them, carrying an M-1-E energy-pulse rifle and another one dangled at his side. \"Sir?\"\n\nThe colonel turned around to face him. \"Lieutenant?\"\n\nThere was a crackling in the radio frequency. He could see the man's mouth moving and his facial features were scrunched together, as if he were yelling.\n\n\"Lieutenant!\" Novak shouted out of habit.\n\nThere was nothing more than static on the radio. \"Lieutenant?\" he repeated, at a normal level now that he was aware that shouting did no good. \"Major?\"\n\nSizzle.\n\nHe waved his arms at North, then looked toward where Saunders had gone. She was approaching them, her arms waving as well. North stood there, frozen.\n\nThe crackling on the radio amped up, but finally he started to hear something. \"Colonel!\" It was Saunders' voice.\n\n\"I can hear you, Major.\"\n\n\"What's going on? What's North doing?\" Saunders asked as she came to stop an arm's length from her commanding officer.\n\n\"Don't know,\" Novak replied. \"He was trying to get my attention when the radios crapped out. Must be some sort of interference.\"\n\n\"No,\" Saunders said, pointing a nervous finger at North. \"What's he DOING?\"\n\nNorth suddenly unfroze, calmly turned the rifle on his compatriots and fired a dozen times. The energy packets sliced through the air in sharp arcs, heading right towards Novak and Saunders.\n\n\"DOWN!\" Novak shouted as he grabbed the major and pushed her forward. He collapsed on top of her.\n\nReddish dust went up in sizeable spouts all around them, then settled over them.\n\nThey couldn't hear North still firing his weapon, but they could see the bolts of white light sizzle through the air right over them.\n\nThen, something changed. The ground reverberated like an earthquake. North continued firing his rifle and the shaking got worse.\n\nSomewhere nearby, a five-story building shifted, cracked and crumbled, then collapsed. Novak spotted it as it started falling. With North firing right at them, they had little space to move. The bulkiness of the suits didn't help. One bolt from his rifle would compromise the spacesuit and the colonel didn't want to risk it, but between being shot by North and crushed by a falling building, a bolt of energy seemed the lesser threat.\n\nNovak tumbled to one side, looked up and saw he wasn't in North's line of fire. He got to his feet and loped at the first lieutenant. The man didn't seem to notice his charge and was caught off guard when the colonel collided with him, sending the rifle flying meters away.\n\n\"Lieutenant!\" Novak demanded.\n\nThe soldier didn't respond, even though the radio interference had subsided. He just lay there, staring blankly ahead.\n\n\"Lieutenant North!\"\n\nThere was no change in his condition.\n\n\"Major? Major, can you hear me?\"\n\nBzzzzt\n\nNovak debated whether he could get up off of North without the man becoming a threat again. He turned his head to see Saunders approaching. He waved one arm at her; she waved back.\n\nWhen the major joined him, he asked if she was all right.\n\n\"As well as I can be,\" Saunders replied. \"What got into him?\"\n\n\"No idea.\"\n\nNorth's face seemed whiter than normal through his helmet's faceplate, despite the bright blue sky obscuring it. Novak tapped the lieutenant's helmet, but there was no response. Too small for the human eye to see, though, hairline fractures spidered out from the point his glove had hit. Novak tried to lower North's arm from its firing position, but the limb didn't move.\n\n\"I don't like this,\" the colonel said into his microphone.\n\nSaunders stood over them, but looked toward the landing module. It was obvious that there was wind on the surface, even if they didn't sense it. Sand had piled up on one side of the lander and dusted the ladder into the open door.\n\nNovak pulled on North's other arm, but it resisted for a long moment, then suddenly it seemed to release. The colonel held the lower part of North's arm in his hand, while the rest of the arm seemed to point in the same direction as before. It had broken off inside the suit.\n\n\"This is wrong,\" he muttered.\n\nSaunders looked down to see what had happened. She was mildly sickened once she realized what her commanding officer had just done. He released the limb and it hung down at a weird angle.\n\n\"What the hell?\" she blurted.\n\n\"I think he froze,\" Novak replied.\n\nHe shifted North's body, then flipped it over. He patted off the reddish sand, then had to search the entire back of the suit before he found a small tear along the belt. Sand poured out when he poked at it.\n\n\"Something's VERY wrong here, Major!\"\n\nThey had been sent to explore the small civilization that had developed on Mars and found nothing but ruins. Now, one of their colleagues was dead and something about the red sand and dust appeared to be to blame.\n\n\"Back to the lander,\" Novak ordered.\n\n\"Colonel!\" Saunders called, getting his attention.\n\nMuch to both of their surprises, the lander had turned from the height of human engineering to a rusting hulk. The roof vibrated, then collapsed in a gout of red dust. Next, one of the walls fell off the side. Sand poured out everywhere.\n\n\"Novak to Orion, do you read?\"\n\nStatic greeted him, so he repeated the message three more times before Saunders grabbed his arm and shook him. \"They can't hear us, Colonel!\"\n\n\"I'll try again later. We have to get off the planet.\"\n\nSaunders looked nonplussed. \"No, Colonel, they won't be able to help us.\"\n\nShe pointed up into the robins-egg sky in time for both of them to see a bright-white light flare to life and streak across the heavens.\n\n\"Oh, fuck.\"\n", "in this timeline the Roman Empire has never fallen thus preventing the Dark ages, an era where technology actually degraded, and by the 1800's Rome is at a 21st century technological and social level.\n\nIn 9AD Publius Varus new governor of Germania is informed of a rebellion by the Romanized German Arminius. In an effort to squash the rebellion takes 60,000 troops spearheaded by 5 legions. Varus defeats the Germans at a heavy cost with overwhelming force in a forest battle and this marks a new age of expansion for the Roman Empire which led to the full conquest of Germania.\n\n500 AD the Roman Empire has gone through 3 Civil Wars and suffered at the hands of the Huns and Vandals as well as other barbarian tribes, but the Empire has survived against all threats and with the reforms of the new Emperor Lucius Corvus, a second Pax Romana is beginning.\n\n1200 AD the Roman Empire came into conflict with the Mongol hordes of the east leading to a massive conflict spanning nearly a century, through this new contestant in Europe, Romes hegemony was tested. The hordes were beaten back in 1294 with the help of grand weapons that released the fire of Vulcan and thunder of Jupiter themselves.\n\nIn 1594 Galileus Adranos modified a telescope making it powerful enough to view in detail the planet Mars. Upon it he noticed it had dark blue waters and dark copperish soil with green in many regions.\n\nIn 1758 after the Sino-Roman conflict in which over 37 million lives were lost and the invention of the atom bomb, the world was in a precarious state. The 2 superpowers of the world the \"Mexica Triple Alliance\" degradingly called Aztecs by the Romans, and the Roman Empire itself were dragged into a cold war with each side threatening the usage of nuclear weapons against the other. In 1760 the Aztecs launched the first man into Earth's orbit beginning the space race. In 1761 the elected Emperor of Rome John F. Kennedius (also the first Hibernian emperor) promised to land a man on the moon by the end of the decade, and in 1769 (unfortunately 6 years after the emperor's assassination) Nigellus Aldrinassius became the first man to land on the moon, and the beginning of Roman space superiority had begun.\n\nIn 1827 the IFAT (Internationalis Foederatio Aeronautics et Tractus, or Internationl Space and Aeronautics Federation) with scientists from round the globe set themselves the mission of going to Mars, after decades of study and the success of sending a rover into the dry arid regions of Mars had shown life in the form of small animals similair to scorpions and snakes. \nIn 1831 Aquila I was ready for launch and an astronaut from every nation in the world was on board for this great mission (approx. 157). \n\nAugust 24 1831 11:37 Rome Time,\n We have succesfully landed on this planet 2 hours ago and we have already discovered so much. We have documented approx. 37 forms of life most of which are avian, probably due to Mars lower gravity. We are setting up a \"base\" mostly out of tents and most equipment has been set up. Tomorrow 4 groups of 15 will go out in each direction (N,S,E,W) to explore the area and document more Martian lifeforms and geography. \n\nAugust 28th 1831 2:58 Rome Time\n Truly it was incredible, about 45 minutes ago we saw what looked like a primitive jet aircraft (probably equivalent to an old 1700's Hirundo 262). It was shaped like a needle, was extremely long almost like an airbus. Not only this it was chasing another craft that we weren't able to see and we saw an explosion about 300 yards away. We will go search for it after we tell the rest of the group and bring more firepower.\n\nAugust 29th 1:34 Rome Time\n I'm typing this as we search the downed martian craft, it is shaped very strangely and I can barely describe it. It appears to have 2 \"floors\" but the far more disturbing thing is the ship bears the markings of a white trident and white olive wreath under it. Why does a martian aircraft bear the marks of Poseidon and the fable of Atlantis? No bodies have been found in the device and we are going to leave the craft behind for later study.\n\n\nSeptember 4th 9:58 Rome Time\n We have set up defensive formations and brought out our 2 Testudo tanks from the ship. (We were heavily prepared for the event that we met intelligent life) North West of us in the direction where we saw the planes, we see more than 20 \"trucks\" of some kind coming towards us. We believe the natives now know we are here after salvaging devices from their \"plane\". The creatures \"stepped\" out of their vehicles and approached us cautiously. They are strange creatures that walk on 4 legs and make a skittering sound when they walk. They have a beige complexion and have very small mouths and one large eye. They seem to be nervous producing sweat just as we do as they aim their probable weapons at us. Finally 2 of them step forward each wearing some type of uniform that are similair but at the same time very different. Both are saying the same thing in unison. I am currently going up to them and I have ordered everyone to lower their weapons to show we come in peace. They appear to have acknowledged this and are lowering their devices as well. I have left negotiating to my 1st and 2nd officers and will report back to high command. I believe this is a new era for humanity and the great Roman Empire. -Captain Christophorus Columbinus", "The debate had raged for nearly a century, but the Affirmatives had finally won. We were going to make first contact.\n\nIn 1750, astronomers of the time had described what appeared to be barely distinguishable motes of light emanating from the surface of Mars. When they eventually decided to share their findings with the public, the consensus at the time was fairly split. Could it be made by an alien civilization? Or was it just a natural phenomenon, like volcanism or the burning of some type of unknown molecule present on the planet? Whatever it was, it stirred the public’s imagination like nothing else had in the centuries prior. \n\nThe biggest impact had been amongst the churches and their followers. Those who believed the lights were created by sentient beings were ridiculed, and at some points imprisoned or even executed for their blasphemous statements. The reaction was not the same everywhere though. In what is now south east Asia, Oceania and China, governments and people alike praised the news and quickly led the debate on efforts to understand it. Europe, South America and North American governments took much longer to before they officially acknowledged the possibility, but they did.\n\nIn 1801, after half a century of turmoil and debate, advances in optical technology eventually ended the argument. The lights were undoubtedly sentient, or at least created by sentient beings. Their appearance on the surface of Mars followed a natural progression, from the south pole in the early parts of the Martian year, up through the equatorial regions by mid-year and then receding back to the south pole by years end, to begin anew. This was no natural phenomenon. On Earth people referred to it as the “bright Martian migration”. An international yearnings for contact exploded through the populations of Earth.\n\nBy 1891, the Affirmative Contact Alliance (ACA) had developed the first ever rocket engine. It was based on the extraction and purification of methane from agricultural operations. It did not produce enough thrust to go beyond being a proof of concept in the rocket theory developed jointly by China and the Russian Empire, but it was enough to secure the full financial and intellectual backing of the ACA. This technology could potentially take us to the aliens.\n\nThe Non-Interrupt Society (NIS) vehemently opposed the idea of contact. They utilized well-reasoned and evidenced arguments on the fate of ecologies which humans had visited on our own planet. Life was abundant on Earth, until humans arrived to interfere with it. In the wake of our expansion, nature suffered. Species went extinct and the long term effects of this were still not known. Those of the NIS believed it was our duty as an intelligent, solar-sister of the Mars aliens to not only avoid affirmative contact, but to avoid any and all contact at all until the aliens could do so themselves.\n\nThe debate raged on for a century. The first breakthrough was with significant advances in fuel and propulsion design technologies that had occurred rapidly with the ACA’s backing. More and more people believed that actually leaving Earth was a possibility. As the technology progressed, people became more convinced. Eventually the thought of actually travelling to and landing on Mars became even more tangible. The numbers of the ACA swelled. The NIS gave concessions of course. They supported non-interventionist policies such as deploying exo-planet observatories to view the aliens from outside their atmosphere, at a level of detail that would still allow useful scientific and xenobiological information to be harvested. But their arguments could not hold. The human spirit had always felt alone, and now we knew it was not. The will to explore beyond our planet, to meet those whom we called solar-neighbors was impossible to ignore.\n\nIn 1911 we successfully launched a satellite around the Earth. By 1914 we had our first manned flight in space. By 1916 we landed on the moon. By 1920 the ACA was confident in its ability to deliver a manned payload to Mars. By 1927 they presented their first concept proposals on how to bring the human payload back after it had landed on the planet.\n\nThe second great project of the ACA had begun at this time. This time Engineering was not the focus, but rather the humanities. The greatest psychologists, philosophers, religious leaders and independent free thinkers were recruited by the ACA. The official Protocols of Contact were eventually delivered to the world in 1998, nearly three quarters of a century after the project had begun.\n\nI began studying the Protocols in 2001 after being selected as the cultural ambassador of Earth. Selected from the people, by the people, to represent all of us in a non-scientific capacity alongside the other four, very scientifically capable members of mission First Contact.\n\nCaptain Nojikim’s voice came over the headset, “We have permission to begin descent from ACA command. We are not just making history here people, we are making First Contact. It is my greatest honor to do so with the four of you.”\n\nI closed the Protocols of Contact, clipped its binding and placed it into a secure compartment. My heart was racing.\n\nWe began our descent." ]	6
	[WP] Your otherwise normal existence is turned on its head when you discover how to jump to one of the millions of alternate universes that might have happened had you just made another choice. Which universe would you seek? Which choice might you have made differently to make it so?	[ "Sitting on the edge of my swimming pool, my finger on the proverbial trigger, I can't help but laugh at the irony of it. \n\nI guess it's one of those things you have to experience to really understand. I mean, who hasn't made mistakes in their life? Who hasn't done things they regret - things they want to change? Well, the thing is: you can't change the past. You can't take back what you've said or done. \n\nYou can't, but I can. \n\nQuick: if you could change one thing about your past - one event, one word, one decision - what would it be? Would you go back and ask that girl out? Quit that job? Jump on that plane? \n\nPut on that condom? \n\nI did all that. I went back and I changed every possible thing about my life, everything I could remember. I aced every test through high school, fucked all the girls, owned every party, all the while making millions through stocks and betting. Sure, the success got to my head, but every time I did something stupid, I could just go back and change it again. I had the time of my life. \n\nI don't know when that feeling started creeping up on me, but by the time I'd solved every problem I ever had, I felt it. I felt... well, 'hollow' sounds so cheesy, but that's the word that comes to mind. \n\nI know what you're thinking: boo-fucking-hoo. The guy that literally has everything feels hollow. I used to think the same thing about all those bratty rich kids on TV who complained that their brand new Lambo was the wrong color. But I get it now. Nothing they - I - did had any meaning any more. When nothing in my life was permanent, nothing really mattered. I hadn't earned anything. I know that sounds like the moral of a Christmas movie, but it's true. Think about it: I basically have a cheat sheet for life. I doesn't matter if I... Bah, you're probably not even listening any more. You just think I'm full of shit. \n\nI dip my toes into the warm pool water and take a deep breath, clearing my mind. I'm so used to making the jump by now, it only takes me a second to find it. Ah, there it is. I see another version of myself, living another life. A life where I never discovered what I can do. I steel myself to make the jump... and then I stop. I wonder what will happen to me. Will I remember making the jump? Maybe I'll start over, like all this never happened. I don't know. \n\nI whisper those three words to myself, tasting them on my lips. I don't know. I break into a wide grin, and I feel my chest heat up with a kind of anticipation I haven't felt in a long, long time. Now, this is life! This is what it's about! \n\nI jump. ", "Most people would jump at the chance to see what their lives might have been like. After all, who doesn’t wonder what would have happened had you done x instead of y during a certain scenario? I’m just like most people. So when I discovered how to “travel” to these alternate timelines, universes, or whatever you want to call them, I started the longest journey I’d ever be on.\n\nUsing a controlled sneeze, as well as a certain decision in my mind, I can find myself in an alternate universe where I made that choice instead. For awhile, this worked wonders. No more arguments with the girlfriend, always being one step ahead of everyone else, and winning a lot of money from gambling.\n\nAlong the way I’ve learned some things. Never underestimate the smallest of actions. There was this one time I had to really use the bathroom at work. In the original version, I ran out of the meeting I was in and got fired. This, of course, was before I discovered how to gamble, so I still needed my job. Going back, I held it in this time, and rushed to the bathroom the minute it was over. This small, minute change, led to a nuclear war ten years down the road. Having to erase ten years of my life to undo that decision is not fun. I might remember everything, my wife, our kids, our friends, and our pet dog, but now there’s an extremely likely chance none of it ever happens. Time, fate, alternate realities; they really are a fickle thing.\n\nSure what I’ve said so far seems bad. But it gets so much worse. Because, after awhile, you realize just what an alternate reality means. My girlfriend isn’t my original girlfriend. She isn’t even the girlfriend I had in the last reality I was in. She’s always new, each and every time. The realization dawned on me one day when she ordered a burger with no pickles. Before that point and time, she always liked pickles. Each change of my reality seems to bring with it very subtle differences, ones I almost never notice. Over time they pile up though and you realize that you are now a stranger in a universe far from your own.\n\nRight now I’m just a middle aged man sitting in a small house. My girlfriend will be my wife soon enough, assuming everything remains stable in this reality. I, of course, will propose right after she tells me in three days that she is pregnant with our child. The sex of the child will at least be a surprise. In the other timelines, after too much tampering, it eventually changed the sex of the child we had. And in five weeks time I’d go get a dog from the pound as a moving in gift for my girlfriend.\n\nThis, of course, all assumes that everything goes right. At this point, I’ve seen how little actions affect the entire world. Proposing to my girlfriend more than three days later leads to the reunification of the Koreas. On the other hand it also leads to her death three months later. Proposing earlier than three days, before she tells me she is pregnant, leads to the deaths of a few people in a workplace shooting that never happens otherwise. So I stick with my original choice. Less responsibility that way, as that was how it was always supposed to originally go.\n\nIn the end I’m still the same as I was in the beginning. All I want is to be able to change my actions, to undo certain things, to get a second chance at others. But most of all, I wish I could change the one thing that I’ve failed to. I wish that I could choose to ignore my ability the moment I discovered it. For then I’d be back with my original family, friends, and girlfriend. Life would be normal. Some of them would still be alive. And who knows what would happen in the world. But one things for sure: it wouldn’t be on my shoulders anymore.\n\n-345" ]	2
	[WP] When you meet your soul mate, both of your hearts glow. A concentration camp inmate meets an SS officer. Their hearts glow.	[ "The Kapo screamed at the men to stand still, his abuse raining down on them, as the new officers inspected the camp.\n\nAs the new camp commander looked down the line, a prisoner froze. Number A 17189. He smiled, just enough that his cracked lips started to bleed, and his wan eyes almost vanished into his bony skull. He could feel the warmth from his chest. Was this feeling... hope?\n\nThe officer paused as his eyes connected with the prisoner's, made sure that his medals covered his chest. There was an indescribable warmth. He tried to steady his voice, his hand as he pointed.\n\n\"That man. The stacks.\"\n\nEdit: her/his chest. Oops?\n\n", "She sits shivering in the cold of the town square. There is no shelter to be found besides the gaunt frames of her fellow captives. She has never felt so sad, or so hungry. \n\nOn a whim she wanders through the crowd, shifting through vacant eyes and gaunt bodies full of gnawing desires. From across the square she hears the screaming. Another is being taken. She runs to see a young girl being dragged through the dirt towards the solider's barracks.\n\nOverlooking the scene stands a very tall and draconian man. His medals shine in the light, where her hair lost its luster long ago. His teeth shine white through his authoritarian grimace, where her's hide behind pursed lips.\n\nHis heart glows through his jacket at the sight of her. Her grey sack-clothe shift does little to hide her own beacon. He glances at her, looks down at his own chest, and waves her over. \n\nWith a smooth motion he unholsters his pistol. The iron halo graces her forehead, pressing into her emaciated flesh. She smiles.\n \n\"At least I found you,\" she says. \n\nWhile her body falls, he stands tall. While her fingers loosely splay out against the ground, his embrace the curvature of the trigger. While her eyes stare into the concrete sky, his stare down the barrel.\n\nWhere she found love, he found duty." ]	2
	[WP] Santa Claus arrives at the house of a child who he cannot fairly call either naughty or nice.	[ "\"Let's see, Billy(check), Tammy(check), Mom(check, great cookies), Dad(check, thanks for the beer urp) and that finished up the Jones House\" \n\nMerry Ol' Saint Nick hitched up his red and whites and prepared to scoot back up the chiminey to his sleigh and the next stop on his almost constantly checked and double checked list when an almost inaudible peep stopped him cold.\nIt had been nearly a millienium since anyone had laid eyes upon Pere Noelle, and it always ment trouble. He turned to see who had broken his streak to see a small child in blue and yellow pajamas. \n\n\"Ho Ho Ho! little one, and who might you be? My list says only two good children live here. You, you are not on my good list. Are you having a sleep-over and your mommy didn't leave me a note? I don't remember your name, my sweet child.\"\n\nThe child stared into this old man's eyes and gestured to glowing screen on their wrist.\n\n\"My what a nice watch you have. Give me a moment to check my other list, as a mere formallity. I see, no entry. That can't be right, hold one more second ok?\"\n\nAs Santa turned to face the hearth and discreetly pull out his cellphone, the silent child proceeds to crouch and look into Santa's pockets. Rifling the few scraps of paper, the child pulls a note from their pocket and sildes it into the jumble.\n\n\"All right, thanks for looking Ernie. You too.\" As Santa put his phone away and tried to grasp what to tell the child, he noticed the new bit of paper. \"Oop. Looks like a page came out of my old journal. It says here that you do get a present, I guess. Or maybe it's punishment? I can't tell what it says here exactly but you get this...a bottle cap. Merry Christmas!\"\n\nAnd with a whoosh! he was back on the roof.\n\n\"Why do I always wait to do DC before I head out west?\" Sighed the Old Cherub as he nipped his flask and took to the skies. \"Maybe I'll have better luck in Vegas.\"", "Uh. I suppose I should have a warning that this is dark. So there.\n---\nUp on the housetop, reindeer pause.\n\nOld Saint Nicholas stepped out of his sleigh with his magical red sack of toys and pulls out his roll of parchment.\n\n\"Let's see...\" Santa Claus bellowed beneath his jolly white beard. \"Who do we have here?\"\n\nHe searched through his list of children in this backwater southern town, but he simply couldn't find this address. Santa looked around at his surroundings. He was at 458 Alfred Street. There was no doubt about that. The jolly old man never forgot a child. He thought carefully to himself. This was little Rachael's house. She was a good girl last year. Last year she asked for a dolly friend.\n\nSanta smiled, knowing he still had it. He stepped across the snowy rooftop and hopped down the chimney.\n\nHowever, when he arrived at the bottom and stepped out of the fireplace, he instantly felt that something was wrong. Where was the Christmas tree? There wasn't any cookies and milk setting out either. There wasn't a creature stirring, but the whole home felt lifeless and empty.\n\nClaus set down his bag and silently walked through the home. A chill ran through the veins of Santa as he walked through the home. He didn't want to make a single sound, but he almost wanted to be found as he walked through the home. He made his way to the hallway and carefully ascended the wooden steps.\n\nSteps that were wet.\n\nSanta stopped and looked down at the liquid on the steps. He traced one of his gloved fingers and brought it to his nose. He recognized the scent. Bourbon. He ascended the steps quickly and moved down the hallway to the only open door.\n\nWhen he stepped in the hallway, he felt a chill run down his spine that no amount of the air from the North pole could ever bring. A grown man lied on the ground of a bedroom and a baseball bat on the ground beside him. A small pool of blood growing around his head.\n\nSanta's eyes widened and he took a step back. That's when he heard it. The whimper. A child's whimper. He turned around to the closed door behind him. Just on the other side, he could hear the quiet, muffled sobs of a little girl. He opened the door carefully and saw the little girl sitting on a sheetless bed, dressed in a long white men's t-shirt and sniffling to herself in the dark. She held on for dear life to a little doll.\n\n\"Rachael?\" he asked, shattering the silence.\n\nThe little girl looked up, sniffling. She instantly recognized the man in the red suit. \"S-santa Claus?\" she asked.\n\nHe stepped into the room as she quickly tried to wipe the tears from her eyes. \"What happened here, my child?\" he asked in his signature quiet and comforting voice.\n\n\"I-I didn't mean to h-hurt him,\" she choked out. \"E-ever since mommy left... he would drink the brown stuff every night,\" she sniffed and clutched onto her dolly tighter. \"I-I just wanted him to go to sleep so Santa could come and he would stop hurting me...\"\n\nHe removed a glove and lifted the child's face to meet his eyes. A large black eye garnished her face with a trail of blood dribbling down her lip.\n\n\"My poor child...\" Santa whispered.\n\n\"W-was I bad this year, Santa?\" she asked innocently. Her eyes looked into yours, wearing a cry for help. Santa's voice caught in his throat, but then he had an idea. An idea that just might be crazy enough to work.\n\n\"Of course not, my child... In fact, how would you like to see the North Pole?\" he asked with a smile.\n\nThe little girl's eyes gleamed. \"Really?\" she asked.\n\n\"Of course,\" he said. \"Would you like to live with me at the North Pole?\" Rachael nodded as if you had offered her to go to Disney World. \"Then it's settled. Let's just hand out the rest of these toys and then go home.\"\n\nSanta wrapped his arms around the the little girl and picked her up. \"Now close your eyes and no peeking,\" he said.\n\nThe two left the room and Santa looked once more on the man lying in the center of the room. He shook his head and walked down the hall, back to the chimney." ]	2
	[WP] A man repeats the same second over and over, Groundhog Day style, for the rest of eternity. What is he thinking about?	[ "Seth watched the man with the red eyes fall. The arrow Seth fired sprouting from his chest. The man fell back and as Seth watched, the red of his eyes faded like a flashlight with dying batteries. From the man's hand, a silver cylinder rolled.\n\nSeth approached cautiously, a hunting knife in his hand and stooped to retrieve the object. It had glittering black spot on one end with a red dot in the center. On the back was a button.\n\n\"I wonder what this does?\" He whispered, pressing the button. A bright red light flashed. When it cleared, Seth found himself staring at a silver cylinder with a black spot dotted with a red eye. A felt a button under his finger. \"I wonder what this does?\" He whispered, pressing the button. A bright red light flashed. When it cleared, Seth found himself staring at a silver cylinder with a black spot dotted with a red eye. A felt a button under his finger. \"I wonder what this does?\" ", "The drips continue to tap the twisted steel with their obnoxious dink...dink...dink. I'm forced to stare at them as they pool around the spiderweb-cracked windscreen and drop through one by one.\n\nOne drop for one second, as far as I can tell.\n\nMy head is locked into place by the serrated metal that claws at my chin and temples. My arms and legs are presumably trapped behind more mangled bodywork, although I can't feel them to know for sure. I can't close my eyes, for the pumping red blood vessels in my eyelids cause me to worry that I'll never open them again.\n\ndink...dink...dink\n\nThe water drops continue. A constant loop of time that ironically reminds me of the seconds passing even though time itself appears to have come to a complete stop.\n\nI think I can feel the blood leaking from my body. I feel ever so slightly faint, even though I feel no pain. I don't want to die. Maybe time really is looping here. If I stay here and stay awake maybe I don't have to die.\n\ndink...dink...dink\n\nOK, OK. I'm feeling dizzy but I can hold onto my memory. Think about what happened. think about how I got here. I was driving home from the wedding along the B-road. Ok. The wheels hit something and slipped. Maybe a cat or a dead pidgeon or Jesus Christ I don't know. Then the car went off the road into a... into a lake. Yes. A really fucking big lake. There must have been an underwater cave in the lake. An air bubble. That must be where I am now, right? Trapped in a goddamn underwater cave where nobody will find me because no one even fucking knows it exists.\n\nOh god the pain. I can feel the pain now, my legs and arms are back with me but they don't feel like legs and arms anymore. Not the right shape.\n\ndink...dink...dink\n\nI'm going to hold onto consciousness. I don't know why because no one will find me but oh dear Lord I really don't want to die. I'll keep my thoughts running. I won't lose consciousness if I keep my head busy. I'll just keep thinking. What was the phrase? I think, therefore I am.\n\nI think, therefore I am.\n\ndink...dink...dink\n\n---\n\nI took some liberties with your prompt here, and it's probably not the kind of story that you expected but I'm happy with the result so I hope you enjoy it nonetheless :)" ]	2
	[WP] Create an emotional story with 2 men wearing gas masks in a cold Winter Apocalypse.	[ "Jerry had been all I'd known of humanity after it all went to hell. The first few days after the Big Blast, it seemed like everyone I knew was either dying or leaving, headed for somewhere,anywhere but here. But here was home and I couldn't leave that. Even when the clouds poured acid and the fog rolled in,toxic and acrid. It didn't matter.This was all i'd known, and I was prepared to stay. I had rations,water, supplies,and just enough filters for my gas mask to get me through the fallout.It grew quieter as the fall set in. Travelers would wander past in the summer months,but with the cold whispering on the air,they were all bent on making it south. A few stragglers passed, but soon they were a memory as well. Then Jerry appeared,like a scarecrow on the horizon. He was a survivor like me,adapted to the deadly environment,gas mask on tight, decked in a tattered camo hunting outfit. He looked like the kind of guy who could survive death itself. He came as a stranger,but the more we talked,the more he became a friend. We spent our days heating old ration tins over the fire,talking about how we would've better prepared had we know what would happen. We suited up in our masks when the fog would roll through, silently passing the time til it would dissipate over a game of chess. Then came the day I had to make a choice. It was late December and I had woken to the snowfall, ready to do my weekly supply check. Jerry was still asleep,and I gave him that small luxury of sleeping in, deciding I would check his inventory for it. I figured it was an early\nChristmas present for him. I had just finished counting his rations when I came to the case that held his air filters for his gas mask. As I lifted it onto the table,I noticed it felt considerably light. I opened it to discover it was empty. I sat back, panic and sadness hitting me like a punch. It couldn't end like this. Jerry didn't deserve this. I couldn't lose my friend to some poor planning. I walked slowly,purposefully,over to the rack that held out masks. I took the new filter I had just attached to my mask,my last remaining filter, and swapped it with his old one. I put them back and continued on with my work,checking off the list of supplies. Jerry awoke a little while later, oblivious to the fact that I had seen his supplies,or lack there of. He gazed out the back window, sighing loudly and letting me know another fog was on its way. I smiled and handed him his mask. \"Merry Christmas\" I said,as I slid my mask on. He nodded in response as he put on his own,and we both took a seat on the couch. The fog crept into the house,enveloping us as we sat In front of the chess board. I picked up where we left off the day before,and found my move. \"Checkmate\" I smiled,and breathed in the freshest air I had ever had,and let the fog take me", "Why was I always paired up with the stuffy old man? Danforth is a hell of a scientist but I always feel like a sidekick. I only stopped by the lab to pick up Jane for our special dinner and didn't engage him when he passed by in the hall. He nodded his head and kept going. I was relieved and hoped that there would be no weirdness . I wanted it to be perfect, because she was perfect. I wonder if she died quick that night, the night the snow came. I dread the thought that she is still out there, frozen in time with the rest of Humanity. Sometimes I wonder what if...\"\nJones looked up from his journal and checked the screen to see an ice crusted figure standing at the outer door. Pressing the release, the heavy door sung open and Jones headed down to see what Danforth had found.\n\n\"Bad news Jonesie,\" he began to sip his coffee and clutched the warm mug tightly \"The other town is gone too. We'll have to figure something out soon or we will be next. Were you able to repair the food synth yet or are we still on ration tablets?\"\n\n\"R. tabs I'm afraid\" he lied. Jones never tried to fix it, he didn't care anymore.\n\n\"Damn. I would kill for a hot protein patty about now. How 'bout you?\"\n\n\"I want my steak and chicken.\" Jones spat bitterly and changed the subject \"I got a signal on the lattice and recevied a message.\"\n\n\"I told you, I had nothing to do with her going. She had her own reasons, I'm sure.\" Danforth's proffered defense went unheeded and he followed Jones to he comm-station.\n\n\"I'll cut to the chase, old friend. There are several ships in orbit from some star system near by and want to help. They say the snow is their fault and will make full reparations. They have already begun on the far side and want to meet with us. They have been contacting other survivor groups and will pick us up at the listed location. It is only a days' walk from here. They will be waiting.\" Jones droned on like a recording, voice monotone.\n\n\"They say are they reason for the snow? That's interesting news. Only a days' walk? It'll have to wait til tomorrow, the sun's almost down.\" Danforth was a little off put by his companions lack of enthusiasm at salvation. \n\n\"Wake me when it's time to go. I'll be in my bunk.\" Jones muttered dreamily.\n\nDanforth used the solitude to prepare for the dangerous trek to the former town center and the rescue that awaited them. He had time to double check the message, to verify the meeting point and the best way to get there. He woke Jones and gave him the last of the real coffee. The pair of men said little as they donned the heavy parkas and pulled the air warmers over their faces. With a final look back, Danforth hit the outer door control and the men stepped in the white void.\n\n\"Radio check, do you copy? Vis-enhancers active.\" Jones spoke in to the mouthpiece\n\n\"Same on my end, let's go. Coordinates highlighted and calculating route. This way.\" Danforth signaled with a gloved hand and they set off.\n\nThe journey wasn't as bad as he had hoped, he only fell though the ice once and Jones was there to catch his hand at the last instant, saving his life. The swirling sky was starting to dim when they made it to the destination given to them by the message. As night fell and no one showed the men took shelter in a near by ruin. The door to the former restaurant was hard to shut in the roaring tempest. \n\nDanforth shook the chemical lights to life and toss a few around the once opulent dining room. In the pall of green phosphor, he turned to see Jones had pulled a gun and held it up. He stood frozen to the spot and waited.\n\n\"I brought you here to kill you, Danforth. You are why she died. She was out running some damned errand for you. She wasn't there when I came to get her. I was going to ask her to marry me, you sonofabitch. I waited and you lied when I asked where she was. You said you didn't know, but I knew you did, you always did.\" the tears were beginning to freeze on his face as he aimed the barrel at his former friend.\n\n\"Not so fast. I too have a gun, I just kept it down.\" Danforth watches his eyes flick to his belt and un-holstered pistol and back to gaze in anger \"I knew it was a trap. But you are correct in your accusation. I did lie that night, I did know where she was. She begged me not to tell you, it was supposed to be a suprise, for your big date. She know you loved to ski and wanted to give you a winter wonderland. She left that night to activate her breakthrough, her snow machine, her gift to you.\"\n\n\"Looks like a stand off, eh old chum?\" Jones spoke the last words between friends \n\nThe resolve of the pair begins to waver in the cold and in the howling blizzard a single gunshot is swallowed by the gusting wind.", "What time was it? It had become almost impossible to tell. The day's dim light could only barely cast a shadow. It didn't matter to them anymore. The campsite was rocky and bare. They sat there. Kicking around the inches of the dry, silty particles that blanketed the earth. It was a lot like snow - cold and soft, but dry. There wasn't enough moisture in the air for snow to fall anymore. The man glanced up at his fellow survivor. The brief glance filled his mind with thoughts he didn't know how to process. It had been years since they'd seen anyone else. Their group scattered when hunger overtook one of them, drove him to kill. And eat. The two of them ran off seperately but managed to reunite several weeks later. They were lucky. That winter was particularly cold and dark, and they might not have survived without each others warmth. They scavenged together for years. Successfully. But food has been growing more and more scarce. The man had been fighting it for weeks. His mind was pushing him to do what he once thought himself incapable of. He glanced back at his companion, tears in his eyes. Quick to look away when his friend glanced back. He couldn't let his friend see him like this, he'd give himself away. He wanted so bad to rip off his mask and tell his friend he's sorry for what he had to do. Sorry for betraying him, even after the years of hardships they'd endured. His mind raced back to the time his friend, wracked with hunger, shared the meager bits of meat he had saved for a time of dire need. He wished to tell his friend that he loved him. He did. But the time had come. Grasping at the hilt of hte knife in his pocket he looked up to rush at his friend. Only to be staring down the muzzle of a gun. He understood.", "Ashen buildings stand stoically in the obscure light of the distance, rising to meet the slow moving slate overhead as white particles land softly on the blank canvas below. The sky and land seem to have no end here, the sun is hidden from view and day seems night as night seems day. The surroundings were rendered nearly indistinguishable by the eruptions and following aftershocks of that day.\n\n“The air grew colder and snow joined the precipitation of ash, smothering and drowning those that had survived. Small groups of individuals formed roaming bands in search of warmer environs, clean water and fresh food. As they came to set up camp in various places their supplies would dwindle, furthering their need to continue searching and consuming. Unfortunately, there were others in the same situation. We were all cold from the change, tired from our seemingly endless migration, hungry from dwindling food supplies, and thirsty with little clean water remaining. Skirmishes and small-scale wars erupted between the agitated groups further reducing the population. Those that had not died were almost certainly wounded which would result in the same end”, The hunched man scratched into the thin leather-bound journal with a piece of graphite between two fingers marked with chilblains.\n\n“For those that were lucky enough to survive and achieve some sort of stability, things simply were not the same. We lost so many of our friends, family and loved ones, that many felt mocked by the cold bleakness of their existence. They chose to meet their end on their own terms. There are so few of us left now.” he continued with a deep cough full of phlegm and reminiscent of iron muffled by the mask on his face. His scribbles grew faster in pace, his hand scrawling some semblance of letters across the page as he reached for the present.\n\n“The group that I traveled with was made up of my brother Keith, John (myself), and three others that we found stranded along the way. Lily, the youngest amoung us, had traveled all the way from a city in Ohio called Portsmouth. Her original group had disbanded after petty arguments over the position of leader. She traveled Eastbound and down eventually finding us in Beckly, West Virginia before collapsing from hunger and exhaustion.” John sniffled and wiped at his nose with a numbed hand before writing further.\n\n“Jason and Abigail hailed from Pine Grove, Pennsylvania catching up just as we stopped in Hendersonville, North Carolina. They never said what had happened to their previous group and we never pressured them by asking, instead we shared a fire and what supplies we could muster with them in exchange for the extra sets of hands and feet. They hoped, like we did, that the weather would improve further south,” John wrote as wet splotches hit the page and Keith patted him on the back with a heavy hand.\n\n“Come on now John, we've done pretty well considering.” Keith spoke in a smooth, warm tone that cut through the cold if only for a moment.\n\n“Yeah, considering.” John managed to laugh as the paper absorbed what few tears he had left to shed. “I'm almost done, I've made it this far.” he continued as the sliver of graphite that remained returned to the book.\n\n“We continued southward hoping that Atlanta would be our best bet. We spoke openly and longingly about the warm city we hoped for, Lily was looking forward to some new clothes and a hot bath while Jason and Abigail mentioned a soft, clean bed at every opportunity. Keith and myself were just hoping for a place to stay for a while. As we continued, it didn't get warmer. The snow didn't stop. The winds never ceased. We grew colder, we grew more weary, our stomachs growled noisily and our lips and mouths split in their dryness. We couldn't continue walking any further, Lily came down with a terrible cough and caught fever somewhere around Walhalla, South Carolina. Keith, Jason and I took turns carrying her because we had lost too much to leave someone else behind. She had come too far and was too young for us to let go...” John's writing had faltered and he began weeping as he beat his deadening hands upon his knees.\n\n“John...you've done enough...” his brother said in a wavering tone.\n\nJohn couldn't hear him over the sounds of his hands falling upon his knees. He gained enough feeling in his hands to grip onto the piece once more and continue writing.\n\n“Jason was the next to falter, his legs gave out on him. He had been walking for far too long as had the rest of us. Our feet bled and our shoes were worn ragged. It was likely that he had a bit of frostnip settling in his toes. He didn't want to worry us, especially not Abigail. We took our time crossing the last leg of the journey as nature took its toll. I think we made it to Suwanee, maybe as far as Chamblee before we stopped here. We just didn't have it in us anymore. We hadn't ate in weeks, we haven't had anything to decent to drink in the past couple days, and it just keeps getting colder. It keeps getting darker. Sometimes I wonder daybreak comes anymore, maybe we're just living one really long day. Our last day...” John managed to write that last word before the graphite fell from his loosening grip and his hand fell to his side at last.\n\n“Keith...keith. I think I'm done. That's all the words I have left in me.” John squeaked out as his face, dirtied and tan save for two streaks leading away from his eyes peered up to the grey sky. He turned to his brother, slumped over and unresponsive. John knew, breathing shakily he looked to the others, their bodies frozen in the snow becoming one with the canvas. John shed no more tears and eventually breathed his last. In the middle of the snow were two figures wearing masks, and a leather-bound notebook. In time, it was as if they had never been there at all.\n\n_________________________________________________________\nIf you have any suggestions as to how I could improve this, please let me know. I'm trying to improve my writing so that I can produce better responses and eventually write stories of my own.", "Gregory heaved in a breath and pulled out the filter to his gas mask. He handed it over to me and I snapped it in. I heaved a breath into my burning lungs. As we walked, the ashes around our ankles fluttered up like snow in reverse. The abandoned buildings surrounding us were missing all their windows. If the shattered glass was under our feet, it was buried under the thick ash. I wondered if maybe the glass had been blown into the building instead. Another question we would never answer.\n\nWe walked in silence for two minutes. Only the soft sound of our footsteps. And my breathing. Gregory turned is head towards me. I heaved in a breath, and pulled out the filter. He snapped the filter into his mask and his body shivered. I could tell even under his layered coats. \n\nWe continued to walk in silence. I tried to give Gregory as long as I could. We kept up our pace, but did not push it. We could not push it. \n\nThe wind picked up and the ash fluttered. I wanted to say that we were lucky with how little wind had hit us today, but I did not speak. I was giving Gregory as much time as I could. My heart tightened. I turned to Gregory. \n\nGregory pulled out the filter from his gas mask, and I saw his eyes go to its small indicator. He handed it over and I looked as well, even though I had been trying not to. It was in the orange. \n\nI snapped the filter into my gas mask and filled my lungs. We had been walking like this for seven hours. For weeks, we has spoken of our lives, of our interests, and even all that we had lost. Even when we walked in silence, our breathing entwined. Now we were down to taking turns living. \nThere was a small army barracks a few miles north. Neither of us knew if there was still water or food. Or filters. The ash swirled around us in the breeze. Gregory stumbled. I snatched out the filter and thrust it over. Gregory put his hand on mine and pushed back, and we both paused as we saw blinking red. \n\nI pushed the filter towards him. His hand tightened in refusal. With my other hand I started unclasping my gas mask itself. “No!” Gregory cried. The first word we had heard all day. \n\nI continued unclasping the seal. He looked at me at put the filter into his mask. He stood up. I gave him a push down the road. He started walking and did not look back. I had around thirty seconds left, so I headed for the nearest building to see which way the glass had fallen.\n" ]	5
	[WP] You live in a world where no matter what you write, you can not edit, erase or restart what you have written	[ "I almost felt bad for the communists.\n\nI stared at the message. I guess the Moscow-Washington hotline just wasn't fast enough.\n\nThere was nothing I could do. The command was already entered, and the football's codes already sent. Quite frankly, who cares about those commies? I certainly didn't win on a platform of leniency.\n\nUltimately, this would probably increase my approval rating. Nobody would ever know Russia didn't mean to send the missile. Nobody would ever know they had it self-destruct.\n\nIn a few moments, I'd be on live television, assuring the nation that America prevented a nuclear weapon from destroying New York and responded appropriately to Russia's attack. \n\nRussia would acknowledge their mistake and beg us to stop. The world would see Russia as the disorganized weak government that she is.\n\nMoscow's hotline would be destroyed, and the only indication of their attempted remedy would soon be locked away in my desk.\n\nI guess I wasn't a very great communicator today. Meh, everybody has bad takes.", "I had just finished my diary, but when I go back to double cheque my speeling I slowly begin to notice missed steaks everywhere. My secondth grade teacher always said it was impotent to check my spelling and it was won of those lessons that I took to heart.\n\nBut after I finished writing in my dairy, and after noticing all those terribubble problems I just couldn't go back and fix them. So I sat there in my dark womb and constipated what I should do next. I cunt delete my diary because I've written in it each day about things I've done in my life. It has staff about my birthday, that time I had sax with Jennifer, even embarrassing things like that time my friends duck taped me to the light pool and left me there in my underwears.\n\nWell you know watt, I've just got to live with the consequenches and real eyes that I should never write a diary using and apple iPhone and with predictive sext." ]	2
Some clarification (which you may or may not use): * Time travel takes place in government controlled facilities * There may exist some under-the-radar time machines used illegally * It is common for government agents to stop someone from time travelling by using time travel themselves: 1. Individual plans a trip to go back in time. 2. Individual fills out necessary paperwork and uses government facility to travel back in time. 3. Government time travel agency monitors the trip 4. Individual drastically changes history 5. Government agency detects the change and sends agents back in time to a point before (2) and stops the individual from ever making the trip (thus fixing the change) In this case your main character is stopped before (1), so they hadn't even been planning on making a trip in the first place.	[WP] Time travel to the past is possible, but it is highly regulated by the government. Your main character has no desire to time travel, but one day government agents show up to stop your character from traveling back in time.	[ "Peter tapped his foot impatiently. The line of travelers stretched too long for his urgency. Time is a commodity these days, far more precious than gold.\n\n“Where are you snapping to today?” An ancient woman gazed up at him. \n\nShe was before him and next in the queue of two before he would get his chance to snap. He watched the TSA agents grill both and deny them entry. It felt like an eternity but was only a few minutes in actuality.\n\n“Next” The Agent barked. He took his job seriously. “State your name, reason and destination.”\n\nPeter looked at the TSA sign prominently posted next to the Agent as he stepped up.\n\n All time travel shall be heavily regulated.\n Only persons with extreme need shall pass through.\n The TSA will not be responsible for results caused by Time Travel.\n Time is a commodity, precious and rare.\n The TSA.\n\n“Peter Blakely, reverse direction to 12 hours ago. San Jose, California.”\n\n“Reason?” The Agent prodded him.\n\nPeter cleared his throat, nervously, “To recover my formula for immortal life. I accidently wiped it and unable to recover it.”\n\nThe Agent poked buttons on his tablet, punching up needed information. “I’m sorry Mr. Blakely, we are unable to approve your snap.”\n\n“But. . .” Peter blustered\n\n“But, nothing. Apparently you took the snap from the future and erased the formula. It was a failure and dangerous to society. There will be no snap today.” The Agent nodded to his partner, who pulled out handcuffs.\n\n“You’re under arrest to keep the safety and peace of our society.” He led Peter away in cuffs, “It’s dangerous to mess with time. Immortality is just another way to twist time to our wishes and skew our timelines.”", "I'll admit, I got the idea from Red Dwarf.\n---------------------------------------------------------\nI was sitting in the center of my sofa, arms folded in my lap, while the suited men ransacked my home. One rifled through the knick knacks in my living room while the other, judging by the sound of shattering glass and ceramic, had made his way into the kitchen. I sat patiently for half an hour while my house was turned inside out. At the end, the agents merely sighed and stood across from me.\n\n\n“It's not here,” said the first to the second. The second turned to face me.\n\n\n“I'll ask you one more time,” he said, “where'd you hide it?”\n\n\n“I told you, I don't have a time machine!”\n\n\nThe agents turned to face each other again. “He's not gonna tell us,” sighed the first. “What should we do with him?”\n\n\nThe second agent grinned. “We don't actually need him.” He pressed a button on his radio. The other agent returned the smile and did the same. Then, they both turned to me.\n\n\n“Mr. Rigmarole, I'm afraid you're no longer useful to us.” He began to draw his gun. A loud crack echoed through the house followed by a flash of light.\n\n\n“Oh thank God, I'm just in time!” Came a familiar voice. The agents drew their guns and pointed them behind me. I ducked onto the floor as two shots went off, and when I opened my eyes both agents lay dead. I peered behind the back of the couch and nearly tumbled backwards when I saw who had committed the murder.\n\n\nIn the hallway adjacent to my living room stood an older version of myself, a pistol by his side. He had a tired and haggard look and was draped in worn, dusty clothes. His white hair hung low to his shoulders while a tangled beard hid his expression. He turned to me and his face sagged a little.\n\n\n“That was close,” he said. “Listen to me – err, I mean you - I don't – that is, we don't – have a lot of time. I'm you from the future. Time machines are real. You discover one in Schönbrunn Palace when you go to Vienna for your 50th birthday.”\n\n\nI stammered, “you're me?”\n\n\n“Yes!” He shouted. “I'm you on your 50th birthday. I've come from the future – your future - to help you!”\n\n\n“Who were those people?” I managed, gesturing to the agents.\n\n\n“Those are time regulators sent to prevent you from traveling to the past.”\n\n\n“Why would I want to travel to the past?”\n\n\n“To prevent them from killing you in the present!”\n\n\nI blinked.\n\n\n“Listen carefully,” he continued. “Time travel is very heavily regulated. There are government agencies dedicated strictly to establishing and maintaining a set timeline, a timeline where everything suits their design on how the universe should be. There are time machines in all major US cities, although other countries are developing their own techniques. In twenty years South Korea will be the first non-US country to develop the technology, followed by the UK, Russia, China and finally Austria.”\n\n\n“How do you – err, how do we – know all this?”\n\n\nMy future self sighed. “You know it because I just told it to you!”\n\n\nI blinked again. “What?”\n\n\nHe shook his head. “Nevermind, we don't have time for this. You have to go, other agents will be coming once they've realized what's happened.” He pulled a small device out of his pocket and began twisting dials on the front.\n\n\n“What the hell is that?” I asked.\n\n\n“It's a portable single-use time machine,” he said. “My one-way ticket home.”\n\n\n“Can't you give it to me?” I asked. “Maybe I can use it to go back in time and prevent the time machine from being developed!”\n\n\n“If you tried that and, somehow, managed to succeed, then I wouldn't exist to give you the time machine to go back in the first place.”\n\n\nMy shoulders fell. “Oh.”\n\n\nMy future self smiled. “Good idea though. You'll need plenty of them to get through this, kiddo. Remember: Vienna, 50th birthday, Schönbrunn Palace. I'll see you there, then you'll see you here.”\n\n\nA flash and a bang, and he was gone. After a few minutes of preparation and packing, so was I." ]	2
Bonus points if it involves animals and/or a moral at the end.	[WP] Write me a fable that teaches a lesson about civil rights.	[ "A fable: There once was a little black swan that the bigger swans mocked and bit because of his dark feathers. Some of the other little swans of all colors wanted to help him, so they asked the big swans to stop--but the big swans were jerks (obviously), and they started biting other little swans, too, both white and black and everything in between.\n\nSo the little swans of every color turned against the big swans. They pissed on the big swans' food, they tricked the big swans into biting each other, and they told the wolf where the big swans sleep. They called it the Swan Revolution, and they fought with wisdom and courage, and they won. \n\nLater, one of the bigger swans gave a big speech about how deplorable it is to harm little black swans, and about how if she was in charge, then no black swan would ever be picked on again. But before she was trying to be put in charge, she hardly ever had said a single word about the rights of the black swans. The little swans saw through her deception, and they elected one of their own to be in charge instead. Then they bit her in her tail til she was well and truly sorry.\n\n\n\nTL/DR: Moral: The people will someday retake their rights, and the wise politician will take the populist side now while the fight is still at hand, rather than trying to join in after the fight is won.", "There once was a pig who liked to steal all the other pigs' food. He was fat and greasy and smelly. The other pigs were scared of him because he would push them away from the food and belch in their faces. He was disgusting and pathetic. But he was also the biggest, so he always got his way.\n\nSo the other pigs decided to work together to defeat the nasty pig. They knew they had to be clever!\n\nOne group of pigs distracted the big pig by nipping at his heels and calling him rude names. When he chased them, another group of pigs grabbed all the food and hid it away. So the big pig couldn't find it, and he was very hungry that day. The pigs did this day after day, until eventually the big pig became very tired and hungry.\n\nAt that point, he stopped letting the other pigs distract him away from the food. He started sleeping by the food bin so that he always could be near to it and take whatever he wanted when the farmers put the food out.\n\nWell, the little pigs were clever again. Some of them snuck into the farmer's house very very very early one morning and put Exlax in the food. They all agreed that they would not eat the food that day!\n\nSure enough, the nasty pig gobbled up all of the food that day. And he had the worst diarahea that a pig ever had. It was awful!!!\n\nFrom that day forward, the little pigs cleverly worked together with one trick or another to make the nasty pig hungry and sick and tired. Eventually, he became too weak to fight and the little pigs could take whatever they wanted. They also shared food with the big pig, because they didn't want him to die, but they also never let him become big and strong again. THE END!\n\n\nThe moral of the story is that if we want to defeat the big pigs in our lives (big corporations, big oppressive governments, whatever), we need to start working together and being more clever about it. We can't have all this bickering and other stuff that goes on among politicians. Our generation is going to have to lead the way in making a better world by getting organized!!!!" ]	2
	[WP] Sweet Talk the Devil into attending church.	[ "Satan sat beside me sipping his steaming drink. It was blacker than anything I had ever seen. \n\n\"Want some?\"\n\nHe pushed his glass toward me as he sneered. \n\n\"Nah, that shit looks nasty\" I said as I lit my cigar and puffed away.\n\n\"So...church huh? What makes you think I'd be interested in that? You want me to see the glory of God?\"\n\nI snickered and puffed my cigar\n\n\"No. Consider it payment.\"\n\nHis blood red skin pushed up one eyebrow as he finished his drink and took a bite out of his glass. The chewing sounded like someone eating stale chips. Pitch black blood oozed from the corners of his mouth as he smiled.\n\n\"Payment for what?\"\n\nI took another puff from my cigar\n\n\"I'll let you know when I think of something I want\"\n\nI looked up at the barkeep and tapped the bar ordering a shot. Satan swallowed his chewed glass and swirled his razor sharp yellow fingernail on the bar, peeling out a spiral of wood like a pencil sharpener spitting out pencil shavings.\n\n\"And you think I want to go to church?\" He asked curiously.\n\nThe barkeep set my whiskey shot in front of me and I gulped it down before answering.\n\n\"Why wouldn't you? All that guilt. All those sinners. All those people on the edge of temptation, just waiting to be pushed one way or the other. And then there's the cockiness of it all...God's biggest enemy in his house, eating his flesh, drinking his blood and taking advantage of his unsure and wayward flock. People so close to forgiveness...and so close to damnation. This has your name written all over it, man.\"\n\nHe laughed an unhealthy and uncontrollable laughter as he slammed his fists on the bar. \n\n\"You're not as stupid as I thought! There might be a spot in hell's army for you when you die....and when will you decide what I give you in return?\"\n\n\"I'll pray to you. Just keep an open ear.\" I said as extended my hand. His hands were dripping with yellow sweat, he dug his nails into my hand and shook it as my blood solidified our deal. Then he got up, walked out and before leaving the bar he looked back and said \n\n\"See you on the Sabbath...\"\n\nThe barkeep walked up to me and handed me a bill with the price of a shot, a broken martini glass and Satan's drink on there. $200.00. I rolled my eyes and pulled out my wallet, my credit cards were gone and there was a note where the cash should have been that read \n\n\"needed some $$$ for the collection plate. Thanks. Your pal, Satan.\"\n\n\"What a dick.\" I murmured as I washed the dishes.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n", "\"Come on Lucy it won't be sooo bad\"\n\n\"I don't feel comfortable going in that place and you fucking asshole you're lucky we're friends or you would have been ash already\"\n\n\"Lou baby, seriously do you think I would do you wrong haha ...well I mean maybe that's why were friends\"\n\n\"Friends is a funny way to put it...\"\n\n\"Are you still upset that I out sold you !!!\"\n\n\"I mean it's not like you took my record or anything and to a mortal especially.... You know I still get shit when I go to the break room \"\n\n\"Well that's why we are here \" I said standing looking at the front doors of the church.\n\n\"I still don't understand what we are doing here\"\n\n\"Fuck Lou this is why I outsold you !! You gotta think outside the box..... You know who goes to church ? \"\n\n\"Religious people ?\"\n\n\"Yes but there's one important word \" I said with a grin \"Sinners\".\n\nSatan began to pull back the door and I watched as his nostrils flared and his forked tongue flickered with delight \n\n\" You see what I mean Lou\"\n\n\"Ohhhhh yeahhh\" a smile from ear to ear began to grow.\n\n\" This is your head start buddy let's see if you can keep up\".\n\n\n", "I look down to my phone, reading the text again.\n\n'I'm at the Lovely Bunny. Heh...'\n\nSighing, I looked up to spy a neon sign on the wall of a building. 'Lovely Bunny' was in bright purple letters, a few neon women danced around it. I walked over to the door, it was already wide open. The clubs music continued playing, it wormed into my ears. \n\nI stepped through the door and started walking down the short hallway leading into the main room. It was dimly lit and smelled of alcohol, there were faux plants lining the walls. Towards the end of the hall I almost didn't see the bouncer in between two of the fake ferns. He was dead, still clutching at a bleeding side he couldn't stanch. I rounded the corner into the gallery room.\n\nAt one end was the bar, its tender was draped across it, a broken bottle protruding from his neck. The other end featured three stages, one in the center and two on opposite walls. Performers and patrons alike were strewn about, impaled on poles or laying across furniture. One woman still danced on the center stage, and one patron sat front row.\n\nI walked up to him, kicking some broken glasses and empty bottles away as I did. When I got to him he was bringing up the bottle in his hand for another drink, I snatched it away before he could. He chuckled as he stood. \n\nHe was an attractive man, I can admit that. Dressed impeccably, with a penchant for red and black. His hair was black, styled in a manner that shone sophistication. His voice was just as smooth as his silk tie. \n\n\"Keep dancing, babe.\" He said to the woman before he faced me. \"What.\" he said, not evening asking.\n\n\"It's Sunday, and we got to get you across town.\"\n\n\"Ahh yes, the Christians Sabbath. I knew something felt dirty. No.\" He started to move back to his seat, I grabbed his arm.\n\n\"You told me you would.\" My hand was starting to burn where I held him. He looked at me, seething. \"I swear to God,\" he winced, \"If you don't stop-\"\n\nHe interrupted. \"You'll what?\" The burning grew hotter.\n\n\"I'll bless the tap and all the ice in the house. Spice up your drinks a bit.\" I said, the burning stopped and he yanked away his arm. \"Now come on.\" He didn't budge.\n\n\"You can't make me.\" He said.\n\n\"Lucifer... you're acting like a child.\"\n\nHe didn't even speak, he simply turned around to the woman who, in the midst of our conversation, began to sneak away. She froze, and not by choice. Quickly, she began to rise up into the air. My exasperation couldn't be said in any way other than a long sigh. She was bent backwards in a grotesquely unnatural way. \n\n\"Are we done here?\" I asked before he even turned around again. Her body thumped hard against the floor as he faced me.\n\n\"I'm still not going.\" He said as he sat down.\n\n\"Fine.\" I said as I brought my hands up and out, then quickly down to my sides again. \"What do you want?\"\n\n\"Your soul.\" He said.\n\n\"Eat shit, what do you want?\" I said.\n\n\"A golden fiddle.\"\n\n\"Seriously?\"\n\n\"The body and soul of your firstborn?\" He asked.\n\n\"If you can't be serious I'm just going to drag you there.\"\n\n\"Alright, there's this convenience store, one of the clerks there is a real asshat. I want him gone.\"\n\nI started walking out as I replied. \"I'll make some calls then. Lets go.\" He followed.\n\n----\n\nLucifer sat down beside me, spitting out bits of wafer colored by wine. He almost shouted when he spoke. \"Those Ritz crackers didn't taste like flesh and that was not blood!\"\n\n\"Calm down there, Satan.\" I said, people were staring.\n\n\"I want to leave.\" He said.\n\n\"Just shut up and wait.\"\n\n\"Is that cunt clerk dead?\" He asked.\n\n\"Nope.\"\n\n\"You're an asshole, Jesus.\"", "\"You're kidding me.\" the devil said, his barbed tail whipping back and forth behind his chair.\n\n\"No really, honest to .... uh I mean .... I swear.\" I wiped the sweat from my forehead. \"You just have to come in, sit down, listen to some chanting, and then they start.\"\n\n\"Why have I never heard of this?\" he asked, squinting at me with his blood red eyes.\n\n\"People don't really like to talk about it.\" I replied, flinching a bit under his dark gaze.\n\n\"So you're telling me that the priest is going to stand up there, rip Jesus's body apart into little pieces, hand them out, and then we're going to eat Him?\"\n\n\"Yes. Oh and then we wash it down with a goblet of his blood.\"\n\n\"That's messed up.\" Satan pushed his chair out and stood up, \"Let's go.\"", "\"Just come for one ceremony!\" I pleaded, sitting down besides Satan.\n\n\"I am not going anywhere near that shit hole\" he replied firmly, crossing his arms pointedly.\n\n\"It's just one time, you don't even have to eat the bread or taste the wine\"\n\n\"I don't wanna\" he whined, a pointy tail waving behind his back.\n\n\"Lucifer\" I stated, drawing his attention.\n\n\"If you don't come to this one ceremony, I won't buy you any more food\"\n\nHe looked at me shockingly.\n\n\"You wouldn't dare\" he whispered.\n\n\"I would dare.\" I replied, tangling a packet of chips in his face.\n\n\"Are those... Chilli chips?\"\n\n\"Indeed they are\"\n\n\"That's blackmail\" he stated, standing up from the couch.\n\n\"Yup\"\n\n\"You're blackmailing the devil\"\n\n\"Yup\"\n\n\"Are you going to give me those chips?\"\n\n\"If you come to church\"\n\n\"You're so evil\"\n\n\"Coming from you\"\n\n------------------------------------------------\n\nin the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit\n\nCRUNCH\n\n\"Are those chilly chips?\" The priest asked.\n\n----------------------------------------" ]	5
	[WP] "Plants have feelings too!"	[ "It was during the 1920's when a scientist named Jagadish Chandra Bose discovered that plants have a nervous system. In spite of this fact, vegans and vegetarians alike have been hypocritically attacking and condemning meat-eaters for consuming living things. While these self-professed animal lovers may not be as noble and pure as they've mislead themselves to believe, there does exist a very small sect of people known as Boseans. \n\nPutting even monks to shame, Boseans have learned to co-exist with the Earth and nature on an even deeper level. They are able to extract essential vitamins and minerals from fertile soil rather than relying on consuming plants or animals. There are a select few within this group who will opt to consume roadkill and plants that have withered up and died. It is partially out of respect for the once-living and partially out of desperation in areas with dry, barren soil. Though there are others within the group who prefer to let nature take its course and who try to revitalize the barren soil with the deceased. With enough time and decomposed living matter, they postulate, any dying or desolate area of the world can begin nurturing life anew.\n\nKnowing this much about the Boseans, it should come as no surprise to you that their stagnant numbers in the face of an ever-growing human race would lead to the occasional conflict. They once staged a protest that was never televised nor printed or published. It was during this protest in the mid 1960's that I first discovered their existence. On that day I found myself amongst the throngs of vegetarians and vegans who were in an all-out war with the meat-eaters and omnivores. I cannot admit to you which side I sympathized with more as it would jeopardize my credibility as an intern for a student who is the son of a Nobel-winning laureate's brother-in-law twice removed. What I can say is that I fancy myself a half pound of beef topped with strips of bacon and cheese, tucked away between two chicken patties. \n\nMore to the point, the debate between the two sides had long passed its climax when a Bosean revealed herself to the collective audience. An unsightly yet strangely charming young lady by the name of Patalie Nortman took her place in the center of the crowd. With an exasperated sigh and a microphone in her hands, she uttered the words \"You are all damned murderers\". Every self-righteous vegan, every airheaded vegetarian, every stoic omnivore all stood in silence. \"On what grounds do you exclude yourself from all this?!\" an angry hormonally imbalanced Dellen Egeneres shouted back in response. \"Quite simply\", Nortman continued, \"I do not kill for my food. Everyone is quick to condemn the meat-eaters and omnivores, but you vegans and vegetarians fail to see that you are just the same. You routinely grow and harvest fruits and vegetables. You cull them and consume them despite the fact that they have a nervous system like all living things. Plants are alive, plants have life in them. Plants have feelings too\".\n\nAnd with that, Nortman was murdered, roasted, and eaten by the self-professed animal lovers while the omnivores and meat-eaters watched in horror.", "Little me, a lowly leaf; one of thousands in this tree. What will it take for any one other being to notice me?\n\nI'm never alone. My psyche is connected to every leaf, every branch around me. Extending not only to the extremities of this one tree, but to all the trees around me. I live in a bionetwork. We are one.\n\nThe knowledge of this can make me feel insubstantial; I am one of trillions alike. If I were to shrivel up and die right now, be it due to a lack of water or nutrients or what have you, the rest of the system would go on as though unchanged. At times, I feel that the system doesn't even really care to provide for me. Am I a nuisance? Am I just \"one more mouth to feed\"?" ]	2
Inspired by [this](https://www.reddit.com/r/AskReddit/comments/2t73j8/what_if_everything_was_spiders/) askreddit post.	[WP] Everything is spiders.	[ "You remember it happening, you were there. \n\nWe all were. \n\nThe day it all stopped, the day it all began. The day the last news report ever was broadcast:\n\n>Scientists at Los Alamos Labs accidentally released a self-replicating, matter-rearranging nanobot. Within minutes the entire complex was an undifferentiated greyish mass /cut to helicopter video over a spreading, miles wide, pulsating grey stain on the Earth/. \n\n>Scientists have offered no workable solution to this disaster, as all forms of matter are summarily consumed, and even a tactical nuclear strike was ineffective in eradicating what is being called the first truly artificial organism. \n\nAnd it spread. And people were consumed. Dissasembled. Changed. \n\nSome took to the air, only delaying the inevitable as eventually they would run out of fuel, and glide down to the undifferentiated ocean of all of us. \n\nAs the organism spread, it began specializing certain areas of itself. It played with new forms and structures, and found a better shape. \n\nSpiders. \n\nYes. Spiders. From microscopic mite-spiders to creatures so large that if they were made of mere chitin and fluids, would have collapsed under their own weight. \n\nAs it turns out, having eight legs and a grasping mouth is perfect for interlocking formations of non-uniform sizes. So it became spiders. All of it. \n\nAnd all of us as well. \n\nSee, we didn't die when the spiders crawled over us and stole our atoms. Oh no, that would have been preferable, to some, compared to what was to be.\n\nInstead, every subatomic particle, spin and state, was mapped directly into the ever-growing consciousness that permeated the rapidly spreading World of Spiders. And even now, every one of our awarenesses flits through countless billion hivemind spiders made of semi-sentient molecular nightmare. \n\nIn a very real sense we have entered an eternal Hell. And in many real ways, far more terrifying than any hundred or so hells dreamed up by any religion. \n\nTo see only out of millions of faceted eyes at once... to touch only with the writing and twitching of hairy metallic spiders... and worst of all, to hear the passing thoughts of your lost and damned neighbors as they too careen frantically and fruitlessly to find some method of escaping their unending torment. \n\nOf all of humanity alive at the moment the thing start to spread, the only ones we can count lucky are that small handful of intrepid astronauts on the International Space Station. Lucky not to be on the ground, if there is any left, here with us... and the spiders.\n\nAnd for their luckiness, they got to slowly starve to death, watching the perfectly smooth, silvery billiard ball where once a living planet spun. \n\nMaybe they blew their airlocks before the end. Maybe they resorted to cannibalism, I doubt we, down here in the spiders, will ever know. \n\nSo, everyone and everything is spiders. Spiders everywhere. From, presumably as near the core as the material of the spiders can survive, to as far as the writhing mass can build itself as it flings ever more accurate spears of hellish transformation at the Moon. Forever...\n\n\nEven the kittens... are spiders. ", "Atani Genzo made a face as they walked into courtroom; two men and a woman. They wore robes made of midnight black silk and deathly white cloth, two of them with porcelain mask of the latter color. A wave of revulsion churned in his stomach as they seemingly floated through the crowd, well breed courtiers drifting away from their invisible aura of corruption. \n\nThe Spider Clan.\n\nThe sole woman was without a mask though Genzo wish she did all the same. She wasn't hideously corrupted by the taint. In fact, if anything, she was gorgeously beautiful in the worst carnal manner possible. Her sheer silk robe was scandalizly bare at the breasts, revealing the full length of her cleavage. Lips painted the color of blood pursed themselves as she observed the seen before her.\n\nThe man next to her was garbed all in white, the color of death. His mask covered the upper half of his face, pinprick holes in the surface for him to see. The effect was that of a spider's many faceted eyes, and hid the direction his gaze follow. For all of Atani Genzo's knowledge, the sinister man could have been staring at him. The man's lips parted as he smiled, revealing teeth that had been sharpened to knife points. His hands were hidden by the voluminous sleeves of his robe, making Genzo even more wary. A blade might well be in that traitors hand and no one would be the wiser.\n\nThe last person was a beast of a man, some seven feet near tall. His robe was a patchwork of black and white, a garish mixture that wounded the eyes. He wore armor, despite the social rules against it while at court. Worse was the actual make-up of the armor. It was like a monstrous collection of trophies. The breastplate had to have come from a Lion samurai, the roaring feline was mutilated and chipped but still recognizable. The left and right shoulders came from a Mantis bushi and Dragon respectivily, the different tinted greens clashing in a terrible manner. The helm was Crane Clan in make, the regal blues spashed with black lacquer. Scorpion and Phoenix reds and yellows girded his legs while a Moto belt of the Unicorn Clan was at his waist. \n\nAtani Genzo shifted slightly from his position at the back of the room, the hidden kusari mail under his robes small comfort. The Spider Clan, the largest collection of fiends and traitor in the whole empire. Worse than the Scorpion, their rise in status, from enemies of the realm to equal partner was something difficult for most to swallow. The Crab, enemies of the Shadowlands and Taint, hated them with a passion unmatched. And the Lion Clan, who's beliefs in the tenants of bushido had made them outraged at the Spiders' elevation, many of their reactions were to commit seppuku. It did not matter what the Empress stated. Great Clan or not, they were still the enemy. Atani Genzo of the Crocodile Clan was not alone in that opinion. " ]	2
	[WP] there is a Super Hero Developmental League where the superheroes of tomorrow hone their skills against second-tier villains. Tell us about a day in the life of a not-so-super hero in the SHDL.	[ "Joey took one last look behind him before ducking into the alleyway. Walking up to the shop's back door, he knocked twice. Someone on the other side slid the small slot in the door open and looked through.\n\n\"Password?\"\n\n\"Cherry Pancakes.\"\n\nThe window slid shut and he heard the sound of a chain being unlatched. The door creaked open.\n\n\"Get inside quickly. Head downstairs. You'll be safe there.\"\n\nJoey barely had time to register the room he had entered when the woman ushered him to the trapdoor on the floor and hoisted it open.\n\n\"It goes down about ten feet. It's soundproofed, there's a little food, but we can't spare much. And we can't spare a bed. You'll have to sleep on the floor if you're staying after dark.\" Joey nodded and began carefully climbing down the ladder. Once at the bottom, he removed his hood to reveal his face; An otherwise average teenage boy, with short, messy brown hair, freckles, and a soft white glow emanating from his eyes.\n\nThe basement was poorly lit, but by the lone, flickering bulb, he could make out four other figures.\n\n\"Hey. New kid.\"\n\nJoey looked around the rest of the room. The one who had spoken was a girl a little older than him.\n\n\"Don't be afraid. You're safe, for now. Got a name? No, wait, let me guess. Joey?\"\n\n\"How'd you know that?\"\n\nShe tapped her forehead and smirked. \"It's a gift. I'm Amy. This is Tommy,\" she said, indicating a small kid on the same couch. \"Those two over there are Brett and Desi.\" Brett was a muscular older boy hunched over a computer. Desi read a book, but Joey couldn't tell what she looked like, bundled up as she was, in a large jacket, scarf, and gloves that concealed everything except her wrists, which in the dim light looked to him like they were blistered and scarred.\n\n\"So how'd you find yourself down here with us?\"\n\n\"It was a week ago. The League came to my house. I guess my parents hadn't wanted me joining up. They took everyone outside except me, 'cause I was hiding. I don't know what they did to them, but I heard the screams from the basement. It was bad. Next thing I really remember was someone carrying me to a safehouse and telling me about the Underground.\"\n\nAmy patted the couch beside her. \"I'm really sorry. Take a seat. I don't know if you're staying, but make yourself comfortable. There's some water, some peanut butter, and some bread.\"\n\n\"Thanks. I'm not staying, I don't think. Why, are you guys?\"\n\n\"Desi's moving once she's fit to go about on her own, so's Tommy. Me and Brett, are, well, we're sticking around the city for... reasons.\"\n\n\"Reasons?\"\n\n\"I've got family and friends here. Brett's got unfinished business with the League. He'd explain it better than me.\"\n\n\"No one explains it better than you.\" Brett spoke up.\n\n\"Not true and you know it. You want to tell him?\"\n\n\"Don't see why not, if you've cleared him. So I used to be a member of the Super Hero Developmental League. Maybe you saw me on TV or something, they called me Leveler.\"\n\n\"Yeah, you were that super-strong guy.\"\n\n\"Not quite. I work out, but that's about it. My real power is that when I hit something, it has the durability of paper mache. So I can punch through cement without trouble, and often without hurting myself. Same with super-tough supers.\"\n\n\"So why are you here? I thought once you were accepted in, you were set for life.\"\n\n\"Well, you are. But after we took down that gang of mad scientists, I learned the truth, and I just couldn't stomach it any more.\"\n\n\"The truth? You know why they're hunting me? I mean, hunting us?\"\n\n\"Yeah. Turns out, institutions like that like things clean and easily understandable. I'm one of the lucky ones. Class three, a conscientious objector. I knew exactly what I was getting into when I quit. These guys weren't so lucky. I'm only still in town because I'm trying to reach out to one of my buddies from the team before they catch on that I'm still in town trying to contact him, and move him to another district. Or before whatever they're telling him about me really sinks in so much I can't persuade him otherwise.\"\n\n\"Class three? What about you other guys?\"\n\n\"Well,\" Amy piped up again, \"I'm class one-b. Information hazard. They decided having me around made it impossible to keep their dirty little secrets away from the public. Like how they write off half the supers that manifest as villains right from the start. See, whenever someone thinks about me, I start getting information. First, about them, and then, later on, I can start getting details about their thoughts, their situation, their plans for me. Now, Tommy and Desi here were boned from the start. Tommy's class two - weak or situational power. When he got older, they'd have set him up as a villain for Leaguers in training to beat on, or to publicly foil a nonexistent plot whenever they had a slow day. He does fire, but not much of it. He can make a little lighter flame from his right pointer finger, but that's probably all he'll ever manage. Poor kid.\" She looked over at the sleeping boy.\n\n\"And that's Desi. Desi, do you mind if I tell him?\"\n\n\"Hm?\" The girl's voice sounded gravelly and scratchy from across the room. \"No, don't. It's probably better if I show him.\"\n\nJoey spoke up. \"No, if you don't want to, you-\"\n\n\"No, you should see this before you decide if you want to stay here much longer. Can everyone get on one side of the room?\"\n\nBrett got out of his chair and moved to an arm of the couch. Desi got up and walked to the other side of the basement.\n\n\"Now you have to promise not to scream.\"\n\nJoey nodded and gulped.\n\nDesi began gingerly unwrapping the scarf and removing the coat. Her arms were as pocked and scarred as her wrists had been. Even her face wasn't untouched, her hair growing in ugly clumps out of her scalp, the right side of her mouth held open in a grimace. Seeing his look, she looked at the floor. \"Just keep watching.\"\n\nBefore his eyes, her skin took on an oily sheen. Was she growing... shorter? Before he could open his mouth, her body melted into a puddle of black, oily liquid. He began to stand up. Amy put an arm across his chest.\n\n\"She's not done yet.\"\n\nAs he watched, the puddle began to rise, bulging into a semi-solid mound. There was a ripping sound as it sprouted tentacle-like pseudopods tipped by monstrous claws, inhuman eyes, spines, and mouths full of needle teeth. Joey held a hand over his mouth, willing himself not to cry out.\n\n\"Class four,\" muttered Amy under her breath. \"Not palatable to the public.\"\n\nAs quickly as she had changed in the first place, the creature Desi had become began to melt back into a puddle.\n\n\"Avert your eyes, boys. Her clothes don't change with her.\" Joey took a second before covering his eyes. Somehow, not being able to see the transformation made the liquid squishing noises even worse. With no visual reference, his imagination conjured images of bones and organs growing from that black, formless mass.\n\n\"You can look.\" Came Desi's voice after a second. When he looked, she was concealed behind her clothing again, with no trace of the creature she had become.\n\n\"How did she...?\"\n\n\"Not sure. I think she's a mutant of some variety. The League doesn't really care, they're just waiting for her to step out of line and take her down like a monster. I don't think they'd even bother giving her a fair trial. So much PR for them. So much disgust from me. It's half the reason I'm in the city.\"\n\n\"So you're, like, working against them? Or something?\"\n\n\"Kind of, but it's not really your business. You're too young. Check again in a few years.\"\n\n\"I'm thirteen.\"\n\n\"And you're on the run from the League because you don't like fighting. And because they burned down your house, but even if they hadn't, I feel like you would have been class three. At any rate, nothing you should get involved in.\"\n\n\"They didn't say anything about class three. I heard them say class one.\"\n\n\"Class one? Are you sure? Not class one-b?\"\n\n\"Yep. \"So what's this kid on the list for?\" \"Class one, parents don't want him joining the league.\" \"Sounds bad.\" That's what they said.\"\n\n\"Well then. Do you know what class one means?\"\n\n\"No.\"\n\n\"Class one is the rarest class under their system: Too powerful to control. I don't know what your power is, and I don't think you do either, but they do. And they're scared of it.\"\n\n\"That's not possible. All I do is glow from my eyes.\"\n\n\"That's all you've done so far, but I'm getting a lot of untapped potential from you right now. It's foggy, but unless I'm way off base, you may be the most powerful super I've ever met. This changes everything. Are you still interested in helping out?\"\n\n\"Uh...\"\n\n\"Don't answer just yet. Take a day or two. Think it over. Think of how you felt when they came for your family. I'm moving to a different safe house at the end of the week, so tell me by then so I can take you with me. If not, I'll show you the safest way out of the city, no hard feelings. Because if you're not part of it when it all goes down, you don't want to be anywhere near here. I promise.\"", "\"Gary, you really messed up today,\" Henry said as they walked towards the Disciplinary Office for the umpteenth time that month. It was more common than not that would be Gary's first stop after his missions. \n\n\"What was I supposed to do, Henry? You couldn't have done any better! I was just at the wrong place at the wrong time.\" \n\n\"I told you not to call me that anymore, Gary!\" Henry hissed in a whisper. \n\n\"What? Henry? What's wrong with Henry?\" Gary asked. \n\n\"My name is Heat Miser now.\" \n\n\"That's a dumb name, Henry,\" Gary told him honestly. \n\nHenry scowled. \"You're just jealous because you don't have the right to get a name yet,\" he said, slowing down. \"Besides, being a hero is about turning a situation around. You may be in the wrong place at the wrong time, but you have to make it seem like you're at the right place at the right time.\" \n\nThey came to a stop outside the Disciplinary Office door. Henry put his hand on Gary's shoulder. \n\n\"Today's going to be worse than normal. I'm not sure how long they're going to put up with you,\" he said, turning around and walking along the hallway again. \"I'll wait for you in the cafe.\" \n\nGary took a deep breath. Today had been pretty bad. He was positive this was not going to be a simple slap on the wrist. He opened the door and stepped inside. A severe woman sat erect behind a mahogany desk, pouring over some documents. \n\n\"Gary,\" she said as she adjusted her glasses. \"Do you know what this is?\" She asked, tapping the papers on her desk. \n\n\"Taxes?\" Gary asked hopefully. \n\n\"No,\" she said flatly. \"This is the headache I got because of your mission today. Seven people injured, two in the intensive care unit, and you still let the \"villain\" get away!\" \n\nSuddenly her posture relaxed and she flopped back in her chair. She covered her face with her hands. She stayed like that for a long time until she let out a sigh. \n\n\"All you had to do was take the ice cream and give it back to the kid. That's all you had to do.\" \n\n\"But ma'am, the villain was - \" \n\n\n\"Enough!\" she yelled. \"I don't know how you turned into the Super Hero Development League delinquent. I don't know how you passed examinations at all. Your powers were so promising...electrical manipulation is a rare gift, but I suspect your true power is to make everything fall apart.\" \n\n\"Please, I can fix this! I can buy the kid more ice cream! Two ice creams!\" \n\n\"The child is currently in the hospital and probably can't taste anything right now because of you,\" she said, glowering. \"Gary, I'm afraid I have to give you a permanent suspension until you can prove yourself capable.\" \n\n\"But that's not fair! Anyone could have screwed up like that!\" \n\nShe sat up, rubbing her eyes. \"No, Gary. They couldn't. You were spectacular. No more missions. You will report to the Toddler Training Tower tomorrow.\" \n\n\"The Toddler Training Tower?!\" Gary exclaimed in outrage.\n\n\"Stop interrupting me, or I'll kick you out of the SHDL altogether!\" She hissed. \"You will be trained alongside the toddlers. Perhaps they will teach you some discipline,\" she said. She waved her hand in dismissal. \"Now leave my office.\" \n\nGary left in a daze. The Toddler Training Tower? That was humiliating. That was cruel and unusual punishment. He wasn't a toddler! He was a super hero in training! \n\nGary didn't even notice he had left the SHDL campus. He stood on a sidewalk, waiting for the pedestrian light to switch on. He waited for at least ten minutes, desperately pushing the button to be allowed across. \n\nWhy did he even need the SHDL? He could be a hero all on his own! Gary decided to try to come up with a name. Sparky Gary? Gary-lectric? Should he include his name at all? Most heroes probably frowned upon that. \n\nEventually, Gary got fed up waiting for that light to turn on. He decided to take matters into his own hands. He manipulated the lights to halt traffic so he could walk across in peace. When he reached the other side, he allowed traffic to flow again. \n\nThat was pretty fun, Gary thought. He could regulate traffic properly instead of the lights. So for the next half hour, Gary would start and stop traffic and allow pedestrians to cross almost as soon as they reached the crosswalk. There were a couple of fender benders, but they certainly weren't Gary's fault. \n\nEverything was moving along smoothly until Gary felt several of his teeth being knocked out by a sucker-punch. His left cheeked burned where he was hit and he crumpled to the ground in pain. He looked up to find the villain disrupting his traffic flow. \n\nGary gasped. \"Henry?!\" \n\n\"I told you, Gary. My name is Heat Miser now! Place your hands behind your head, villain!\" \n\n\n" ]	2
	[WP] Write a story in which a normally benevolent mythical creature is a scary monster. Or a normally aggressive mythical creature is shy and submissive.	[ "\"Look, mommy! It's a fairy!\" The young girl pointed toward a small orb of blue light, floating about 15 feet away from the two. \n\n\"That's nice, honey, but it's probably just your eyes tricking you.\" This has happened a lot lately, and frankly the mother was getting tired of it. Night terrors involving the blue light sparked lately, too. Musing, she muttered, \"It's all make-believe, Jess.\" \n\nThe little girl tugged on her mother's sleeve, wanting to look closer, not even knowing what has been going on in the night. \"Please, mommy! Just one peek, and I prooomise we can go home after this.\" \n\n\"No.\" It was firm, it was sudden, and it made the girl listen. She knew mommy wouldn't like it if she kept persisting. The walk continued. \n-\n\n\"Mommy!\" A scream heard in the night, this one actually more coherent than the rest of the stumbling and slurring that has been heard for over a week. \"Mommy! Help me!\" Sighing, the mother walked out of bed, thinking that it was just another night terror, the product of staying up too late and having an overly active imagination. \n\n\"I'm coming, Jessie, just you wait.\" Yawning, she opened the door. She cocked a brow, silence permeated the usually bustling children's nursery-type room. \"Jess?\" \n\nLooking down at the converted bed, she noticed she was sleeping soundly. \"Well, that's all of that.\" Though the silence was a little... too quiet? As if the mother was the only presence in the room. Flipping on the light switch, she went back to the half-crib. What laid there was an utter surprise. There was a small girl, a ring of red lining her neck, and a shade of purple tinting her cheeks. \n\nSilence. A face aghast, and a pair of eyes brimmed with tears. Unbeknownst to the mother, a fairy, who had transmogrified into relative human size, was standing behind her with a leather strap fastened around each hand, biding his time, and dimming his light.", "I hate it when it comes for me.\nIt always comes at night, only when I’m alone.\nOne time mom and dad were so scared mom actually slept in my room on an inflatable mattress on the floor. I actually did feel a little safer, knowing she was there—seeing the rise and fall of her side as she breathed…feeling her warmth, smelling her familiar scent. But at exactly quarter past eleven at night, I felt the air getting colder…very cold. I don’t know why it does that exactly—maybe to make me more afraid. Every hair on my body stood on end, and I sat up, whispering to my mom as I stared into the darkness around me. Only a little moonlight made its way in through the window, and the little bit of light under the door from the hallway only came in about an inch. Otherwise, stillness…growing heavy. And so, so cold. It made my bones hurt. “Mom.” Breathless…like in a nightmare, I couldn’t speak properly…up until that night I had never even tried. “Mom…” Nothing. Maybe I wasn’t speaking loud en… My blood turned to ice as I saw her—motionless. Not just that she wasn’t breathing…nothing. Impossible stillness, like it had stopped her somehow. I knew then I was alone…I would always be alone and no one could ever help me. I pulled the covers up to my chin and wildly looked around, seeing nothing but shadows playing tricks on my mind. It would just keep coming…making me more and more afraid. Giving me pain in my stomach, so bad, and in my head, I couldn’t think good at school sometimes. Kids made fun of me, but I didn’t care. I just dreaded going to bed at night. \nIt was there.\nIn the darkness with me, breathing heavily.\nIt always reminded me of the way our pet horse, Samson, breathed…low, and heavy… and so big.\nIt was so big.\nIt shoved its face at me from out of the darkness, impossibly bright, somehow it was always surrounded by a blinding light…. pure, white skin…blazing red eyes…like something out of a cartoon designed to torment little children. It was grotesque, and all the while I was screaming, screaming at the top of my lungs, though I could barely hear myself, and I awoke \n", "I awoke to yellow eyes,they were looking at me in a curious manner and I found to my discomfort that I was on the ground,looking up to a tall,hairy creature with a bushy tail that twitched behind it,if I could of brought my hands to my mouth,I would have,because I knew what was standing over me,but I had a feeling that my arms were underneath me as I was experiencing the most painful cramps.The look it was giving me as it turned it's head was one I had seen many times before,and I felt no danger,indeed I could of been looking at a domesticated canine,but no,I was looking at something else.\n\nThe creature preoccupied itself by sniffing the air,and I began to stir from the ground.My groan as I got to my feet took the creature by surprise and it moved back,into the shadows,and I remembered where I was,above us were the New England oaks,with their wide canopies that the light fought to breach.I could scarcely recall how I had fallen,only that I had arrived in New England with the purpose of exploring their ancient forests,and I had enlisted a horse on the advise of an old,grey haired woman,who lived nearby,she had also been quick to forewarn me of journeying too deep,where the trees grew thick and the light was dimmest,she had also thrust into my hands silver,of all things\n\nMy attention returned to the creature that hung back in the shadows,it was still there,it's yellow eyes were a dead give-away,along with the panting noises. I considered the sight of such a fabled creature remarkable,and I sought to confirm what I just witnessed,for this to happen I sought to gain it's confidence. I gingerly put out my fist,as I had been taught to do when approaching a stranger's dog.I waited for the creature,it's yellow eyes looking to me through the shadows.My breath was baited,such a creature,timid as it was,had every reason to bound off into the forest and I fully expected it to. When I could make out the faint crunching of leafs,I knew it had chosen to come closer, further crunching followed as it made it's way to me.The creature emitted a low whine,with its ears set back,it's powerful jaws shut,I considered it a good sigh as threatening displays typically came before an attack.I found myself staring into it's yellow eyes,but it wasn't an attempt to dominate the creature however timid it may have seemed,it was something of an instinct to look into the eyes of this nervous predictor,which by all accounts should of torn me shreds,as was the fate of any man who crossed paths with wolf that stood at a man's height.The creature attempted to communicate in a throaty bark,I saw it's teeth then,and my heart race. What follows is my communication between the beast and myself:\n\n“You must leave,before many more come” he said,and I took the warning to heart,I had no intension of meeting these others,for surly in a pack they would be braver,as I knew. From far off came rhythmic beating and wolfish yells,the sort heard on dark nights under a full moon\n\n“Your mount is a feast for us, for my thanks,I'll take you out,don't come back,or you will become part of the meat” he said.I nodded quickly,in gratitude for the mercy he had shown me.The noises were louder,there was now a chant along with howling.The creature remained still,his ears had pricked up,along with his fangs,and he let out a a long howl,I could only guess at what he was announcing.\n\n“You carry silver on you,I can smell it,it will not protect you from the hoards that gatherers this day” he said. And I remembered how the old woman had pressed these silver pieces of silver into my hands,I had quietly chuckled afterwards. The beast lead me along at a steady pace,my legs ached,but I pressed on,and we arrived among the shorter trees,where light was ever present,and the sounds were distant,\n\n“We only wish for solitude,for those that shun us mean only to harm our existence,I bid you fairwell” he said,and I understood very well their need to be apart,the beast sprinted off,back into the dark depths of that old forest,following further movement I reached the edge of the wood,in the light I saw my clothing was ripped and mud encrusted,leafs were in all my hair,and a curious scratch on my arm,I could only speculate as to how I acquired this,either from my fall,or from one of them.\n", "My mirror is polished brighter than the eyes of Apollo. My arrows are keener and will fly as fast as Hermes. This is the day I will slay Medusa to earn the respect of my brothers in the agoge.\n\nI dart from ruined pillar to ruined pillar, keep my eyes downcast and watching the shadows for movement. Medusa -- as foul as she was fair, from the tales of the elders -- liked to hunt men for sport. She stalked them like deer, shooting her own arrows tipped with her own poisonous blood. Few men were able to make it out of the temple with their lives. They would return to the barracks -- often days later -- worn and pale from the escape.\n\nI hear her moving, like dry leather over stone. She's trying to circle around behind me. I dart to take cover behind another pillar. Holding up my shield, I look around the marble stone. She is not behind me. A faint hiss to my left, but several steps away. Fixing my eyes on the shield, I carefully angle it to see over my left shoulder.\n\n\"Are you there?\" I force my voice to be steady and strong, like how Persius must have sounded when he came here.\n\n\"Yes.\" She sounds mournful. She must know what is going to happen -- but why sound apologetic about it?\n\n\"You know why I'm here, then?\"\n\n\"Hear me out, first before you charge out and I have to kill you, all right?\" The voice echoes off the walls, making it hard to pinpoint where she is. Admittedly, the stories have neglected to point out this fact. Also -- I've never heard the creature ask for parley. First time for everything, I supposed.\n\n\"Speak you peace, creature!\"\n\nShe sighs again. \"First, I'm not a creature. I'm a woman and I have needs.\"\n\n\"What?\" My voice cracks a little.\n\n\"Only the hair on my head was turned into snakes, you know what I'm sayin'?\"\n\nThis has to be a trick! \"Do you think me so simple to fall for your lures? You'll wait until I am at my weakest and then turn me to stone!\"\n\n\"Oh, honey -- give me a chance and I can turn something rock hard.\" She chuckles.\n\nHer voice is closer now. I move the shield around. Barely beyond the edge of the torchlight, I see a female figure -- lithe and athletic -- move around a collapsed pile of roof tiles. Her eyes, rendered powerless by the mirror's reflection, are as red and bright as winter embers. She was right about one thing: only the hair on her head was turned into snakes. A little closer to the torch light and her skin isn't iron scales, but as soft looking as a maiden's with a spring green tint to it. All and all, not someone that I would automatically reject their advances...at least from the neck down. I hear her chuckle once again. I remember my manners and try not to blush. \"Beg your pardon.\"\n\n\"You like what you see?\"\n\n\"I have no assurances that you're not trying to lull me into a false sense of security. I have been tasked by the King to find and dispatch you.\"\n\nHer voice hollows out from disppointment. \"You're from Athens, aren't you?\"\n\nAn odd question. \"No, Sparta. We have sent many warriors here to defeat you.\"\n\nShe laughs again -- a roaring laugh found after the punchline to a good joke. \"That's what this is about? Wow...that's good. Let me tell you this, Spartan and you can judge. All those tales of great battles and narrow defeats? Not entirely accurate.\"\n\n\"Lies.\"\n\n\"Exaggerations to save face. Think how your king would react if these mighty warriors came back to the friendly fires of Sparta to say: \"I met the fearsome Medusa and if it werem't for my stamina and cunning, she would have fucked me to death.\"\n\nI lower my shield. \"You speak the truth?\"\n\n\"Why do you think they look haggard by the time they get back? Being an immortal has its perks, you know.\" She's closer now. \"I promise to not harm you...and when you're done you can have yourself a harrowing tale of how you came ever so close to dispatching the cursed Medusa.\"\n\n\"Two questions still linger. The tale of Perseus?\"\n\nShe snorts. \"This whole thing was his idea. I mean...yeah -- he took my head, killed the Kraken and married old horse-face. A couple of years later, he came back with this idea because apparently she wasn't doing it for him anymore. So -- every year he'd go out, try to slay me, but come back with a tale of narrow escape. Now, every hero needs to come out and try to do what Perseus did. Some of them wise up, the rest don't take 'fuck me hard' as an answer and I have to put them down. So far...none of them could do what he did.\" Her breath ripples over over shoulder. I hear one tiny hiss in my ear.\n\n\"What could Perseus do?\"\n\n\"Make the ground move more than Posedion getting his balls tickled.\" She rests a hand on my arm. If she wanted to kill me, she's in a good position. I keep my eyes fixed ahead of me. I was always one for a challenge, and even to know that I bested a Hero would be worth the risk if I couldn't come back with some other proof of deed. \"What was you other question?\"\n\n\"What about your blood?\"\n\n\"There are other things we can do, you know...if you think you can last that long.\"\n\nThe agoge is counting on me. I can not fail.", "Deep in a cave in north America\n\nA giant long forgotten awakes after a long sleep.\n\nOuch, that was nasty whatever that sickness was it was sure took a lot out of me, the giant thought.\n\nHe came out of the cave not to see rolling plains he was meet with a landscape tall metal buildings that were see through. He saw people of many different color’s black, white, but the people he know(Brown) where nowhere to be found. \n\nThe giant walked to the tall buildings to examine them he saw one of the people looking at him he asked him what happened to the people that use to be here. The person let him know they had been moved and most died. \n\nThe giant let out a roar “I am Haduigona, Grandfather of the people of the land, you killed my people, Prepare to die.”\n\nThe next first few weeks grandfather destroyed many towns/cites. destroying anything or anybody sent his way. Even when Native American leaders ask him for mercy he wiped out many. \n\nAfter a couple of days, he reached the Armeridian’s lands and started to destroy them. That is when a sound started to fill the air. A mist filled the area after the giant took one step on it. A figure appeared, a women in a deerskin robe, though at first look the giant could tell that this one was not alive but stood there.\n\n“I am Acheri, what giant do you want with these people?”\n\n“I am grandfather, people have destroyed creation, I was supposed to be healing it now it is in ruins I have come now to heal it, Man has destroyed it”\n\n“you Idiot can’t you see it has changed, you have been gone for many moons, why haven’t you asked where the people of the land are now???, I know you Haduigona or you think I haven’t heard of the fool you are.”\n\n“Well that is a lot coming from you Acheri, last I knew you were not a protector but a destroyer of people.”\n\n“well, did you ever think I killed for a reason? A danger to those around them, I know man’s heart I could protect the village, that is until these people came but it wasn’t there weapons that were what killed our people’s it was the sickness that came with them.”\n\n“You should be destroying them with me, I know the stories, let you do good for once, use your death to welcome others and we can heal this land.”\n\n“I am sorry grandfather but I can’t let you do that, I care to much for my people”\n\nThe giant and the undead ones fought only the archei stood at the end. A man came out of the mist’s towards the lady. \n\n“Ms. Mathews, there you are, the casino would like to offer you another free night, you seem to be great at bingo night, and we would love for you to spend another day. By the way this fog is wicked, so you should stay anyways.”\n\n\nArchei now looking quite human \"O I Love bingo i think i might killed anybody that stopped me from my fun\" she grinned at the man and followed him back to the casino.\n\nThe mist fading away covering the body of the once proud and friendly grandfather and taking the body with it as it faded away. \n", " Being a hunter isn't what most people make it out to be. The hunter I am hunts for monsters, beasts, man eaters. The king had sent me on an expedition weeks ago after a werewolf someone saw on the edge of the woods, a werewolf is a hefty pay day though dangerous, so why not accept. \n\n My month had been one full of following dead end tracks to nesting areas for the beast. I stumbled upon another set and began to do my work. These tracks were a deal fresher than the others. I readied my crossbow, inserted the silver tipped bolt and trudged on. The tracks took many twists and turns, it even appeared that the mongrel was leaping at a point. The trail went on for another half a mile until I heard a massive noise. Leap...Thud...rummage...yipping? I crept low to the ground and went on. The animal was in a clearing all by himself, with the exception of a single butterfly floating above him. The werewolf appeared to be playing with the butterfly, like a pup chasing a leaf. A 50 stone puppy chasing a leaf. \n\n Of course I couldn't kill it, not yet. The report said the creature was only in the edge of the forest, just lurking around. I followed at a far. About a mile of following I snapped a twig. The beast reeled around and saw me, I raised my cross bow. The beast began barking playfully and pouncing in a circle. I lowered the bow and took a careful step forward, the animal became elated and its tail wagged furiously. It seemed as though it wanted company instead of blood. I raised my fingers to my mouth and gave a whistle. The werewolf trotted towards me on all fours. Six foot of canine against six foot of man, and it was begging for ear scratches, which I couldn't NOT give it. The beast wasn't a man killer, it was just a big mutt, an enormous puppy. I admit I kinda liked it a little, it was cute. I ended up adopting it and began to trek back to show it wasn't a bad omen or a slaughterer. Halfway back to the citadel, another two weeks journey the most intense battle in my life occurred. \n\n Fenrir and I set a camp in the woods of Gæporath. It was especially dark in these woods, many an evil creature is said to make homage to these trees. Fenrir lay his head across my lap and I looked up through a patch in the leaves. A rustle stirred me and Fenrir. When we looked up many glittering eyes lay beyond the campfire. One edges its way into the light. It was a rabbit. The rabbit lurched at us, Fenrir swiped it into a tree killing it. I scrambled for my crossbow when a rabbit leaped at my throat, I caught it and bent its back across my thigh. Fenrir was being swarmed by a slew of the furry liars, Fenrir could hold his own. I took aim Into the crowd and fired a bolt eviscerating one of the rodents. I drew my knife and intercepted a hair ball. After a few bloody seconds, the rabbits fled. Fenrir was covered in an array of minuscule scratches and I was down two bolts. Fenrir whimpered himself to sleep, I was astonished still at what the rabbits had done. \n\n When the king saw me strolling into the castle with an overwhelmed monster, he deemed me a master hunter and knighted me. Fenrir became the first battle hound. We continued to roam the wilds exterminating rabbits, squirrels, nymphs, and other such deceptive creatures. We befriended and recruited Draugs, vampires, banshees, wights, wraiths, and even a leviathan who protected the Kings Navy", "Alan shivered with both fear and cold as his back hit the grey, gnarled bark of the great trees that filled the Dark Wood. Before him, the Dark One stood, ebony armor gleaming in the moonlight. The fallen knight stood well over six feet tall, almost twice the height of the young boy. Alan swallowed a shaky breath as the Dark One drew his sword from it's scabbard. He pursed his eyes closed and hoped his death was quick.\n\nHe waited for a death that never came. When he opened his eyes again, the Dark One was sitting one a fallen log a few feet from the young boy, a pack at his feet. The Dark One seemed occupied with cleaning his blade, as dark and shiny as the rest of his armor, from his horned helmet to his heavy boots.\n\n\"What are you waiting for? Do it!\" Alan said from bracing himself for the deathblow. The Dark One looked at him quizzically. Unlike Alan, no fog streamed from the fallen knight's helmet. Only the light from two low red lights, like dying embers, left the helmet. \n\n\"Do what?\" The knight asked, pausing his work. His voice sounded like to rough stones being rubbed against one another. Alan swallowed.\n\n\"You're going to kill me. Like you did all the others.\" Alan said, trembling. The Dark One's eye-lights dimmed.\n\n\"What others?\" The Dark One asked, placing his dark blade at his side. In the distance, great wolves howled at the full moon.\n\n\"All the people you've killed. The valiant knights. The innocent farmers. Children slaughtered in their beds.\" Alan said. The fallen knight said nothing. After a moment, he spoke again.\n\n\"Valiant knights. Innocents. Is that what they're saying now a-days?\" The Dark One said. Alan could hear the crunching of fallen leaves as the Dark One's mount, a steed of black armor and white bone, grazed on dead grass. The grass simply fell from its jaws and back to the ground.\n\n\"What do you mean? You're the Dark One. The Fallen One. The Black Knight. Terror of the Three Rivers and King of the Dark Wood.\" Alan said, his heart slowing. The cold began to creep into his bones. The Dark One sighed and opened the pack at his feet. He drew out a crude cloak made of wolves fur.\n\n\"Put this on, you'll catch a fever.\" He said, tossing the cloak to Alan. It landed in Alan's lap. The boy inspected the cloak for any sort of danger before draping it over his shoulders. The cloak wasn't thick, but it was warmer than the light clothes he was wearing now. He never should have let the other boys dare him into going into the Dark Wood at night.\n\n\"Why... Why are you helping me?\" Alan asked after a long time, confused. The knight reached into his pack and pulled out a water skin. Again, he tossed it to the boy. Alan drank thirstily, not caring if it tasted like dirt. \n\n\"Do you want to know why I killed all those knights. All those village people?\" The Dark One asked. Alan nodded before taking another swig of cool, foul tasting water.\n\n\"Those knights were killers, rapists... slavers... wait. Do you know what rape is boy?\" The knight asked, eye-lights flaring. Alan nodded, slowly.\n\n\"Then you know those men were monsters, worse than I.\" He said. Alan nodded grimly and tossed back the now, empty water skin. The Dark One placed it back in his pack.\n\n\"The village people?\" Alan asked. The knight looked at his feet and chipped away at some dried mud on the bottom of his boot.\n\n\"They had been killing travelers in their in, dumping the bodies in the Dark wood and blaming it on me. I rode into town to straighten things out and they attacked.\" The Dark One paused. \"I killed everyone who said they were in on it. That town had a population of three hundred when I rode in. It had a population of thirty-two when I left. Mostly children.\" The Dark One said. Alan stayed quiet.\n\n\"I wasn't always like this.\" The Dark One said, looking at an ebony gauntlet. \"I used to be a great knight in the king's guard. Something out of books, child. I saved maidens and slayed evil beasts.\" He said. After a moment he continued. \"One day I came home from protecting one of the border villages from raiders. My wife had taken ill while I was gone. They said she'd never live. I scoured the land for a cure, all the while she got sicker. I finally found a man with a cure. But it came at a price. She fell into a deep sleep. So deep she didn't need food or water. Nor did she age. But the cure needed her to lay under the stars for a thousand years. So I waited. I grew old. I grew weak. Again I found myself visiting the old man with a cure. I needed something to let me live, until I could be with my wife one last time. He gave me a potion to drink. A thousand gold coins for a vial the size of your finger, boy.\" The knight paused and Alan swallowed. The wolves howled again. \"My body continued to age. Eventually it began to rot. Where skin fell away, black fog took it's place. Within twenty years I went from a man in white armor to a soul in black. If I even have a soul anymore.\" The Dark One finished. Alan sat there for a long time.\n\n\"What of the old man?\" Alan asked. The knight nodded slowly.\n\n\"I went back to him. He smiled when he say me. Asked if I wanted a refund. I killed him where he stood, to stop others from sharing my curse. I destroyed his shop and took his notes. In all my years, I had to wait for my wife. I began to read those notes. Potions, spells, curses and summonings. He created the disease that claimed my wife. I was part of some plan he had. It never came to fruition, as far as I know.\" The Dark One finished. \n\n\"How long left?\" Alan asked quietly. \n\n\"What, boy?\" The Dark One said. Alan repeated himself. The Dark One paused.\n\n\"How long ago was the War of Golden Lords?\" The Dark One asked. Alan smiled.\n\n\"What is it boy?\" The Dark One asked, eye-lights narrowing.\n\n\"Sir, that war was nine hundred and eighty seven years ago.\" Alan told the Dark One. The Dark One looked at Alan.\n\n\"Boy, if you're...\" He began.\n\n\"My name is Alan. And I'm not. Your wait is almost over.\" Alan told the Dark One. The Dark One looked at his boots for a long time. Finally, he lifted his helm. A tear, like molten steel, fell from the eye hole of his helmet and hit the cool ground with a hiss.\n\n\"Thank you Alan.\" The Dark One said. Alan nodded.\n\n\"May I ask you a question?\" Alan asked. The Dark One nodded. His dead mount nuzzled the knight. He held it's skeletal head close to his.\n\n\"Well two technically.\" Alan said. The Dark One motioned him to continue.\n\n\"One, why is your horse still here?\" Alan asked. The Dark One's eye-lights flared.\n\n\"Night Strider has been my only horse. I had him as a boy and refused to ride any other into battle. i never questioned why he never left my side.\" The Dark One answered. \"Your second question?\" He finished.\n\n\"What is your name?\" Alan asked. The Dark One looked at him.\n\n\"Why do you want to know?\" He asked.\n\n\"So I may remember this night as the night an incredibly loyal knight saved me from freezing to death. I will not remember you for the rumors and lies, but for what I know.\" Alan said. The Dark One was quiet for a long time.\n\n\"My name was Alan of Cutterhole, a lumber village near to coast.\" The Dark One told him. Alan laughed. The Dark One asked why. Alan told him. Both Alan's laughed.\n\nAfter a long time, Alan grew cold and the Dark One took him to the edge of his village, one of five bordering the massive expanse of the Dark Wood. Alan promised his friend he would meet him in the same place as tonight, every full moon. Alan of Cutterhole promised to always arrive. The boy departed and the man hurried back to his forgotten Keep, deep within the wood.\n\nIf the boy hadn't been lying, which seemed unlikely to the cursed knight, he would not have long to wait for his bride. It was early winter, shortly after harvest and the weather was cool. If the boy was right, his wife would return to him in under a years time. He would finally see his wife again, with her fiery red locks and her brilliant green eyes. He would count the days.\n\nAs he approached the runs of his Keep, he heart sank a little. The place was in serious disrepair. He hadn't needed the comforts of the living in a long time. He had work to do.", "I have been hiding - about an hour and a half - since I ran from it, staring me down with those cold, empty eyes. As my chest pumped to near bursting, I barely registered the sight of the beast lowering its head to rip flesh from the freshly deceased body of my last remaining companion. I know that it let me escape; it seemed to want to play with me before cutting me down. I may only have a few minutes left, because it's not the only one stalking around these trees.\n\nSince the first encounter last night, six of my best friends have fallen, one after the other. In between the killings, we ran and ran and tried to hide, took shifts for sleep. We shared our disbelief at discovering their existence, and the unexpected nature that they possessed. Though we never saw more than one, we heard others in the woods around us, in the distance.\n\nThere was a coldness in its stare that could not be easily forgotten. The stories you've been told of such creatures are probably the same as the ones I heard when I was growing up. Their beauty was said to be unmatched, rarer than the most precious gem. People still use their name every day - all the while not knowing the accursed nature of the word they throw around like a toy. In light of what I've learned over the past fourteen hours, I wish that rarity - that synonymy with the impossible - were the truth.\n\nThe truth is far more gruesome. They are real. They breathe and they grunt, their bodies brutally athletic. There are not many, from what I can tell, and thankfully they don't appear to live close by to us almost anywhere in the world. But they are here in this place, and it is here, by fate, that my friends and I encountered them. I may not have long left to shudder at the memory of that thundering sound, that came up through the ground to our ears before the first of us was struck and bled, caught in surprise at what we saw.\n\nI can hear the sound of hooves in the distance. My desire to live on has trembled in the face of impossible odds. I will not survive this - there are too many of them, though I imagine only one would suffice. And yet as I sit under the crook of these roots, honing our camping machete as quietly as I can with the stone in my day-pack, I have one last bastion of resolve: if I am to die, then I will endeavour this cold morning to cut off the horn of a Unicorn.\n\n\n", "The maiden stumbled, falling hard to the frost-packed ground, shards of ice slicing into her palms and knees, the stinging pain nothing more than an afterthought, paling in comparison to the thundering of her heart and the burning of her lungs as she gasped for breath in the frigid air. \n\nA snort from behind urged her back to her feet, heedless of her wounds as the scent of her fear spiked high and hot in the desolate ice-covered forest. Her feet cut and bled, leaving pink smudges in her wake as she ran, clawing branches grasping at her gown as she surged forward through the trees. \n\nFor some reason, she still clung to the golden bridle they'd given her when her father's soldiers had dropped her at the edge of the woods. \"This will allow you to tame the beast, and your purity will draw it near,\" they'd said. She couldn't have known that she was merely a sacrifice to the vicious unicorn. She couldn't have known that the bridle would signify her as prey to the terrifying beast. \n\nIt was supposed to be easy; Charm the beast and bring it back to purify the waters and return spring to the frost-stricken lands. But instead she'd found a monster. Oh truly, it was beautiful, and for an instant she was entranced, but all that disappeared with the equine beast bared sharp teeth, and it was then that she noticed the human and animal bones around its lair. \n\nSo she'd run, and kept running, hoping to meet the edge of the woods, hoping to escape to some peasant's hut, but there were just trees and more trees, and the endless sounds of hooves pounding over the forest floor, ever at her heels. \n\nGlancing over her shoulder, she could see the beast tailing her, its breaths clouding and steam rising from its body. It should have caught up to her? Was it just toying with her? Was it-?!\n\n\"Urk...\"\n\nSharp pain lanced through her chest, her gaze turning downward in shock and disbelief. A spiral horn was buried deep in her chest, blood seeping out and running down the grooves in a distractingly pretty fashion. Of course, she should have realized there was more than one. \n\nThe bridle fell from nerveless fingertips and the beast tilted its head down, letting her body slide off its horn and thump to the ground. She thrashed weakly, blood pooling beneath her, trying to speak as air escaped her pierced lung. The second unicorn caught up to her, and she could only shut her eyes and scream as they began eating her alive. ", "When your parents moved in they were happy. I was used to young couples, but you were my first baby. They brought you in and slid you down in your crib at first. So delicately as if a feather had fallen from Heaven. I watched you as you gurgled and giggled and they loved and laughed. They were so gentle and you were so fragile, I felt from the shadows.\n\nMonths passed and they grew distant from you. During the day they no longer played with you. Instead they idled you in front of electric windows. At night they no longer sang to you. Instead they bought you a music box. They chose sleep over you, I noted from the shadows.\n\nYou cried often. This is something I found to be true of humans at night. Just as your mother cried in her bed, you did too. They did not come to your cries sometimes and so gently I would tuck you in and play with your dolls until you drifted off, I comforted from the shadows.\n\nYou grew older and soon were afraid of me. You would ask your father to come seek me. He would tell you to be silent, that you were imagining me, that you were just a child, that I was nothing, and I glared from the shadows.\n\nThe night your father lost his job, of which the only thing I had come to trust in him, I was there too. This house was too much for them. You were too much for them. Their screams that night rattled the windows and your bones as you hid in your room. You cried and I sang to you, but you did not hear me from the shadows.\n\nWhen your father was no longer himself, he came to you and hurt you. Later you crawled against me in your bedroom corner. You cried out curses against him, and though you did not feel me, I embraced you from the shadows.\n\nThe next day your father was missing. You did not cry, and I smiled from the shadows.\n\n---\n\nBeen a while since I wrote anything. Wasn't exactly to prompt nor was it nearly as good as it was in my head, but this is what my fingers typed.", "I stared cautiously at the monster, trying to stifle my fear. “…Please don’t kill me,” I croaked.\n\nIt stared calmly back, then glanced at the ground. hearing just as surprised as I was, it spoke. “You can talk?”\n\nHad it understood me? I slowly approached it. “…Yeah. Please don’t hurt me.”\n\n“…I won’t.” It took a seat on a nearby boulder - even sitting, it towered over me. It’s eyes continued to follow me - I found it unsettling.\n\n“Or my children, or my family, or my friends?”\n\n“Look, I’m-I’m not making any promises to one of you,” it muttered, although it didn’t seem convinced.\n\n ”Why not? I’m not asking much - we’ve never hurt you.” I blinked. “Y-You just ambush and eat us at random, and stalk us through forests.”\n\n\"I have to eat.”\n\n“Ever tried being a vegetarian?”\n\n“…You mean eat plants?”\n\n“Yeah. You won’t be hurting anyone.”\n\n“There aren’t enough bushes or plants to feed me.”\n\nA slow grin spread over my face, and I motioned for the beast to follow. “Let me show you a little something called agriculture.”\n\nBaring his teeth in an imitation of my grin, the Human followed.\n\n---\nQuestions? Criticisms? Want to see more? Check out more of my stuff at /r/Draxagon\n", "Puff the Magic D wasn't always a ruthless pimp. It was the move from the sea to the city that really changed him.\n\nHe left Honnah Lee looking for his long lost friend Jackie in a new mystical land called \"Detroit\". Upon his arrival he saw burnt down and dilapidated buildings everywhere. His natural assumption was his old friend Jackie found a new dragon to play with. Rage filled Puff and in that instant he swore he would find Jackie and his new dragon and murder them with an ice pick. \n\nPuff stomped up to the first person he saw on the street and huffed \"Do you know where Jackie is?\". \n\nThe frail crack whore was frightened at his appearance. Smoke barreling out of his nostrils and eyes glowing red. She looked at the crack pipe clutched in her fist, then back at Puff, then back to the pipe. She threw the pipe down and ran away screaming \"Aw lawd I swayer I aint gone be hittin no mo pipe I dun seen da devil, aw lawd!\".\n\nA drunkard stumbled out of the house that Puff was standing in front of to see what the commotion was about. He dropped his bottle on the pavement with a crash when he saw Puff. \n\n\"You! Where is Jackie?\" Yelled Puff.\n\n\"Wh... who?\" said the drunkard shaking in fear.\n\n\"Jackie, mother fucker. Where is Jackie?\" Puff yelled even louder as he approached the man. \n\n\"You talkin bout Jackie Pap... Paper? He'd be over at the big red projects on Hoover.\" The man barely spit out. \n\nPuff took off down the street to the Hoover projects. When he got there he did not see Jackie. He was going to go back to that house and rip the arms off the drunkard that sent him on the goose chase when he heard a familiar voice say \"Puff?\".\n\nHe turned around to find a man in a large fur coat and large brimmed hat surrounded by scantily clad women. \"Get outta here bitches and get Jackie his Paper!\" he demanded. The women scurried off in all directions. \n\n\"Jackie? Is that really you?\" asked Puff confused at whom he saw in front of him. \n\nJackie took off the hat and flashed his classic smile. Puff still a bit enraged asked \"Why the fuck did you leave me high and dry like that? You sold our ship without my permission and then just disappeared\".\n\n\"I got into some shit with the local police on Cherry Lane. I had to bounce baby, you know how that shit goes.\" explained Jackie. \n\nAs Puff was still trying to put the pieces together a big red dragon came from around the building clad in gold chains and walking with a limp. He didn't even notice Puff cause he was too busy counting the cash in his hand. Jackie began to say \"Perfect timing. Puff I'd like you to meet my associate...\".\n\nBefore he could finish Puff let out his famous roar and rushed the other dragon pulling out an ice pick and jabbing it between the dragons scales into his heart repeatedly. The other dragon tried fighting back but Puff had the drop on him. They rolled around in a cloud of smoke and fire until there was silence. Jackie squinted his eyes trying to see through the cloud. Puff emerged walking in slow motion while tossing the gold chains from his victim over his neck. He was covered in dragons blood and still clutching the ice pick in his claws.\n\nJackie was terrified and didn't know what his old friend was gonna do next. Then Puff...\n\nThe babysitter looks down at her watch\n\nWell Billy, it's getting late and your mom said you have to go to sleep by 9. I'll tell you the rest of the story another time.\n\nNarrator leaves. Billy is clutching his sheets in terror\n\n ", "Our trading expedition had nearly reached it's quarry. The wealth of commerce in Thebes seemed closer than ever, but there was still one final hurdle. I had tried to explain to the local guides that their superstitions did not worry me. A wiser man would have heeded their advice. \n\nThe great profile of the Sphinx dominated the skyline. As our convoy approached, the native guides grew restless. Before we could make out the statue's famous nose, the natives refused to go any further. \"As you are now within sight of your destination, we will part ways.\" There was a fear in their word's that does not often strike at the hearts of such bold men. \n\nIn spite of the ominous forebodings, we reckless traders ventured forth into the very shadow of the beastly statue. To our great surprise, (for even in spite of the wisdom of our guides we did not imagine the stories to be true) the creature began to stir. Truly it was a creature, of that I am sure, though it was as surely made of stone as it was alive. \n\nIts colossal paw moved first, barring our way to Thebes. Opening one of its great eyes to spy upon us the creature growled, \"What business business do you mortal men of far way lands have in the city of Thebes?\"\n\n\"We come to open trade between the great city of Thebes and our humble Mogadishu, gateway to India.\"\n\n\"A noble goal, traveller. But to achieve it, you will have to face the peril of my three riddles. Answer correctly and you may proceed, but fail and your life is forfeit.\"\n\n\"Ask your riddles then great Sphinx of the desert,\" I tried to speak with confidence but was barely able to squeak out the supplication.\n\n\"Why was six afraid of seven\"\n\nLooking incredulously at my comrades I turned back to the creature and answered, \"Because, seven ate nine.\"\n\n\"I had been working on that one for centuries. You must truly be a man of great intellect to defeat it so easily,\" the colossal cat man pawed at its beard as it spoke. \"No matter though, two riddles remain. Answer this if you can: What gets wetter the more it dries?\"\n\nAgain, surprised by the cliched riddle I glance at my compatriots who seem equally stunned. \"A towel,\" I answered, unsure that there was not some hidden trick. \n\n\"I have underestimated you stranger, I thought that certainly you would fail to answer that riddle. I will now give you one last chance to turn away, for I warn you, my last riddle is impossible. No man has ever bested it.\"\n\nThough anxiety had captured my heart, I stood resolute. \"I am determined Great Sphinx, please ask your final riddle.\"\n\n\"What do you get when you cross a duck and a cow?\"\n\nI was not familiar with this riddle, but after consulting my friends, (one of whom possessed an Uncle John's Bathroom Scroll) we settled on an answer. \"Cheese and quackers.\"\n\n\"Truly you are men of great knowledge,\" boomed the titan. \"You are free to enter the city of Thebes.\"\n\nAnd, so it was that we opened trade between Greece and the East. The Sphinx's reputation for impossible riddles is, in my opinion, ill-earned. ", "“Basilisk!” The village lookout shouted. “Archers to the walls! Everyone else inside! Lock your doors and don’t look out your windows until the all clear is given!\"\n\nThe crossbowmen rapidly mounted the wooden palisade that had been hastily erected in the weeks since the beast was seen. It was always a very dangerous thing defending against a basilisk. You couldn’t go out and hunt it because it was simply too dangerous. The most that could be expected was to bunker down until it departed, and possibly scare it off with arrow fire, but only if it tried to attack.\n\nThe dozen of the king’s personal monster hunter squad put their backs to the sharp wooden tops of the palisade, and faced inward. The one who had drawn the short straw that morning would take a half second glance over the well every fifteen seconds to verify the large snake’s location. At this distance of almost fifty meters the odds were okay that it wouldn’t look at you, but you didn’t want to look any longer than was absolutely necessary to direct volley fire.\n\n“Blindfolds on!” The unlucky spotter ordered. The other eleven men complied and the spotter took his first peek. The man to his left clutched his crossbow tightly. He knew if the spotter suddenly went limp and fell off it was his turn next.\n\n“Thirty meters, 11:00, fire!” The spotter ordered. Eleven bolts were loosed at the approaching beast. They didn’t have to be precise. You didn’t really try to kill a basilisk, just scare it off. The bolts only had to be close enough to let the monstrosity know you meant business.\n\n“Twenty meters, 10:00, fire!” The spotter called again, and again, eleven bolts flew towards the snake.\n\n“Ten meters, 9:30, fire!” The spotter called, silently crossing his fingers. This volley had to do it. There wouldn’t be time to prepare another. He didn’t need to look for a fourth time, the thing would be close enough to hear if they did not succeed in scaring it off with the last round.\n\nAll twelve men held their breath, waiting to hear the tell tale hiss of scales on grass, praying that they had sent the creature slithering off to whatever den it had come from. They were not so lucky.\n\nAs the men were placing bolts in their weapons they felt a bump in the palisade. The thing was not only coming, it was climbing. They could feel the weight of it shoving against the palisade as it slithered to the top.\n\nTo a man, they all froze, bolts not quite ready to defend themselves. The spotter shut his eyes. Maybe it would just take one of them. Maybe it would go into the village and leave them alone. It was not brave, but it was all they could think to keep from fleeing the spot.\n\nThen, the pressure stopped. The sense of movement came to a halt right next to the spotter’s head. He could feel the change in air pressure and temperature from the thing breathing next to his face. It was too late now, the most he could hope for was that it would be quick.\n\nQuick, yes, that was it, just open the eyes and make it quick. The spotter looked right at the head of the beast, and saw that it wasn’t even looking in his direction. It was staring at an old chicken on the wall of the palisade.\n\nThe spotter was astounded that the chicken was looking directly into the eyes of the basilisk, and was not affected in the slightest. The hen hopped over to the head of the basilisk which was peaking over the wall and affectionately rubbed its head against the basilisk, and patted the body of it with its wing.\n\nThe giant beast quivered slightly, and the spotter heard the beast do the most imaginable thing possible. It purred. Like a kitten. Like a household kitten.\n\nThe spotter realized he should probably close his eyes lest the thing glance his way, but he couldn’t help it. A giant lethal snake, was acting like a kitten being petted by a favorite owner, and that owner was a chicken.\n\nWith a flip of its wings the chicken hopped onto the large head of the snake, and the thing pulled itself back over the wall, and lowered itself to the earth. It then promptly slithered off into the woods with the chicken on its head.\n\nOnly after it had passed beyond the spotter’s line of sight did he realize. Of course, basilisks are born from chicken eggs that were hatched under toads. The poor thing just wanted to see its mother.\n\nEdit: some words." ]	14
	[WP] Describe your significant other (or someone you care about) without referencing their looks.	[ "Energy flows through her eyes, through mine and into my soul, recharging me and fulfilling my now satiated thirst for care and compassion. When she touches me, I can feel my heart rising to new heights; climbing beyond a place I have been before. Her voice sings to me like a waltz causing my heart to dance and my knees to unbuckle and move freely and fluidly. Her touch is soft and without malice and full of passion. She makes my blood run cold and my head and eyes burn. She makes my face moist with tears and my mouth filled with hate. ", "He turns the littlest things into beautiful moments. My heart skips a beat when he opens my door, whether it's a car or place. He gets it for me each time. Literally is my favorite thing he does. He doesn't ask me to leave his place when he's working. He turns on the TV for me so I stay entertained. He doesn't say it, but I can tell he likes me around. He's told me several times I can stop by whenever. I can even make a surprise visit if I wanted to. I've never been with someone who makes this so easy. He constantly makes me laugh. Sometimes I'll even catch him checking me out. I blush like no other, but it does make me feel so sexy and wanted by him. It's only been a short while that we've begun this adventure, but I can honestly say I've never been treated so genuinely. For the first time I feel like I'm really someone's girlfriend. " ]	2
	[WP] Over time, you developed multiple personality disorder. One day, you discover you're not the original personality.	[ "Upon waking, I often do not know quite who I am. \n\nSleep hovers like a thick and predatory fog. Tendrils of it reach into my ears and smother my brain, leaving me devoid of such basic possessions as a sense of self. \n\nI'm always amazing how horrified people are by the idea of switching personalities unexpectedly - it is far more terrifying to wake up, uncertain that you have ever had a personality at all. This is what it feels like to struggle with depersonalization. On mornings like this, getting up seems like an insurmountable task. My body feels like a shell, a cheap disguise that may disintegrate at any moment. \n\nIt was Emily who came up with the idea that the paintings might be able to help with my depersonalization. She announced it with a derisive snort behind me as I (Hank the Semi Driver) was putting the finishing touches on my painting of four hounds playing poker. \n\n\"What in the blue devil has gotten into you?\" I demanded. \"You don't like this masterpiece?\"\n\n'Well, your masterpiece aside, Hank - I just had a thought. Don't you all paint?\"\n\nAll 8 of my personalities do in fact paint, and each have each adopted a unique and recognizable style. Emily suggested that, rather than keeping recent paintings in the arts and crafts room, we spread them across every inch of my floor. Now I wake up in a veritable garden of paintings - and as I gaze out at the canvasses blooming big swaths of red and orange, or awash with tiny, careful dots or covered in geometric patterns, I get an idea of who I have been the last few weeks. Something more than the fleeting, dream-like memories that sometimes drift into my consciousness after switching, but more often do not. \n\nOne day I (as 60-year-old Janice) am looking through old paintings, trying to ensure that I know whose is whose. Suddenly I come across a painting that is simple and unfinished - it features a small dark-haired girl riding a yellow tricycle. The brush strokes are shaky, the shapes a little dis-proportioned. It seems clear that it was painted by a child. But since when was one of my personalities a little girl? And if one was, where had she been lately?\n\nThat evening I am getting ready for bed when I catch Emily by the arm outside my door. \"Wait one second,\" I plead. \"Quick question! Do you ever remember there being a little girl?\"\n\nA dark shadow just barely crosses over her cheerful face, but I catch it. \"What?\" I ask. \"You do, don't you?!\"\n\nEmily's face twists anxiously as she ponders a response. \"Janice... I just don't think this is something we should talk about, okay? I'll let Dr. Michaelson know that you want to discuss it in the morning.\" Before I can respond, she has slipped out of the room and down the hall, likely avoiding what she knows could be an hours-long argument.\n\nBewildered, I collapse onto my bed and realize that I have changed - to my present self, 28-year-old Amanda. As I lay back and stare at Janice's detailed landscapes I can't help but think about the tricycle in that painting - a bright, garish yellow. Why does that seem so familiar?\n\nMy sleep is haunted by nightmares that revolve around the same yellow tricycle. I am riding it around the unfinished basement in our old family home when he appears. From the moment I am plucked off of it until the moment he finally leaves me lying on the basement couch, I watch it, memorizing its curves, counting the number of spokes on its wheels. One of my favorite daydream distractions is thinking of places where I would ride it - DisneyLand, Six Flags, the Mall of America. I would go anywhere as long as it is far away from here.\n\nI wake up screaming half a dozen times in the night, and each time it is out of dread - how long before I revert back to the little girl? Hank will defend us until his dying day, Janice often carries a concealed firearm, but as a 4-year-old girl the only thing I know how to do is be helpless. \n\nWhen I finally wake up the next morning, I feel groggy, exhausted - but surprisingly certain that I have not switched overnight. I am still Amanda. I am still me. I pick up the tricycle painting from my desk and, as tears begin to smear the paint, I think about the little girl. I understand what I didn't before - that the little girl is never coming back. Because she did what she could do - she survived. And now at last I can let her go. \n", "Its taken me years to get to this point to almost have a normal life and I've had to work and beat every single demented personality that this brains concocted. Psychopaths, cowards, old souls, new souls, hero's, villains. Even a couple aliens. I've dealt with them all.\n\nInner \"mind plane\" where a few of us come together in a shared space where we can be killed?\n\nDone it. \nWorked through some issues, improved my people skills.\n\nLosing time just to wake up a week later to find myself in bed with a stranger?\n\nNoped the fuck out of that.\n\nI've gone through every personality disorder troop there is and I've even created a few. The script to my life story just got green lit, expect that for your summer blockbuster in a couple years.\n\nThe one thing I do want to make clear before we go through with this is that all that violent bullshit is crap. It's not like murdering someone or denying them the right to live. You wanna know how its rlike? Simple.\n\nVisit an old folks home. The ones with tall fences and doors that lock on the outside. Where all the nice nurses are there to shove shit in your mouth and down your throat. Think of the patients there. Some of them are still there, the eyes alert, wits sharp... and others are just....\n\nSpinning.\n\nThere lights aren't all the way on at home. Mommy forgot to pay the electric bill and now they're turning off the light, leaving those suckers in the dark. Things still look the same. You still know where your at. But its not life.\n\nAt least the personalities don't completely die...its complicated. They're just not in the driver seat. They flee to the brains imagination and the stereotypes. The latch onto the emotion center and only get a whiff of fresh air when your dreaming or cycling through your emotions....\n\nThere was one violent personality a while back, the reason we got instituted, named Jeff. Now that was a bad personality I'll tell you. It took three different pills, two therapists and a dream journal to put that guy to rest. But right now, he's getting a nice view of what's going on outside right now....\n\n________________________________________________________________\n\n\"The fuck is this doc?\"\n\n\"S-simon! Where did you find that sheet?\"\n\n\"New interns a klutz. Dropped the files in the hall yesterday. But that's not important. See doc, I got this question bout this section down here.\"\n\n\"Simon you have to under-\"\n\n\" 'personality X-Simon Parewell, first recorded alternate personality' Well golly Angela, if this here's paper is tellin the truth then all that crap bout me going to high school next year. \n\n\"Simon listen to me-\"\n\n\"'...Willing to cooperate....' aww that's sweet of you to say Doc. But honestly how do you know that I'm not the origin-\"\n\n\"YOUR A GIRL!\"\n\n\"...\"\n\n\"Simon...your a girl...\"\n\n________________________________________________________________\nIt's taken me years to get to this point where I thought I'd might have a normal life...and it took seconds to tear it all away.\n\nTurns out I'm Sally Parewell. Age 23. dealing with the voices in my head since I was 11. I have a body packing curves and nice straight golden hair that \"cascades around my face\". Who knew?\n\nApparently....everyone.\n\nBefore the voices I was into fashion, making my friends dresses and cute little sun hats. \n\nSimon hates fashion, sees it as a waste of resources and talent. A cruel industry that puts make-up on Gerbils.\n\nSince we've started treatment, Sally has shown herself a grand total of three times. At seemingly random times too. No consistency. No substance. Just vague reactions and a desire to make dresses. \n\nI just don't...get it. Personalities aren't people. They're suppose to be pieces of a fractured mind, twisted and warped. Put through the grinder so many times that you can't even tell it used to be part of a cohesive whole.\n\nBut I....I thought I was real. I had a plan to. Was gonna get involved in the Urban projects and help all those guys one the street. Share a meal with them and hear there story, be a bro. Make a difference in other peoples lives..... But that's not what's suppose to happen to a personality.\n\nThey're job is to be stripped away Disassembled. Removed until Simon is gone and little Sally can grow up and blossom into a fine young woman....\n\nTo make dresses.\n\nAnd sell them.\n\nFor profit.\n\nThe doctors have a three month treatment that they think will weaken t-the Si-imon persona and let Sally come out... To take my dream of civil service and replace it with some air head little girl that'll need to catch up on over 10 years of her life...we start tomorrow...\n________________________________________________________________\n\nONE MONTH LATER\n\nApparently Simon was an imaginary friend of Sally's. An stuff toy snake that would follow her and give her advice... Apparently it all started when my \"body\" fell off the Hoover Dam on a school fieldtrip... one lost \"friend\" resulted in several new \"friends coming to visit inside her head. \n\nSally's parents have begun visiting often, telling stories and trying to \"coax Sally out\". They're so happy.... I'm jealous, before when they made their yearly visits I'd try so hard to be friendly and make sure it was me talking to them and not another personality. I wanted them to see that their child was coming back to them. That their son......\n\nI want my parents. \n________________________________________________________________\nMONTH TWO\n\nI'm standing in front of a mirror in my room. My stuff sprawled out behind me.\n\n\" Still don't like this idea Ange, remember when we tried this with crazy woman #3?\"\n\n\"Come on Simon, there's only going to be you and Sally. IF any half formed Personalities get formed you're more than capable to take care of them now.\"\n\nShe's right, but that doesn't mean I have to like it.\n\nI take a deep breath and look into a mirror. A lengthy black teenager looks back at me. His eyes defiant and touched with uncertainty. If I squint I can see past the illusion that's a part of me. I can see my blond hair and blue eyes, much more fear than I would have liked in those eyes. And...\n\nWow.\n\nMy boobs were huge!\n\n\"Simon? Ready to start?\"\n\nI shake my head gently and when I open my eyes the black kid is back, but the fear stays in the reflections eyes.\n\n\"Yeah.\" I say, my voice horse, \"Lets get this over with.\"\n\nI crouch down and go on one knee, level my eyesight at the head height of an 11 year old, and begin talking.\n\nI talk about...everything, about what I like, what I do when I'm board, what I like to eat, little things. And slowly... I see a shape in the mirror behind me take form. A small little thing, a lot lower than where my eyes were at, was sprouting up on my right side. \n\nI shifted my focus to the growing figure and I hear Ange shift in the background. She noticed my switch in focal points and turns on the camera. From this point on, anything I do is going to be recorded and examined to find a way to remove me and give Sally her body back.\n\nTo kill me.\n\nI stop talking as the final details on Sally's small body comes into focus. I expected the large child eyes, the adorable little sun dress with puffy white clouds against the blue backdrop. I even got the hair style right. One tiny pulled back ponytail in an attempt to look mature. \n\nWhat I did not expect, was for Sally to throw herself into my reflections arms, a joyful grin on her face as she hooked her hands around my neck.\n\n\"Simoney!\"\n\n________________________________________________________________\n\n\nOP: Whelp, I'm done for tonight. If people like this I have another part in mind. If not, the idea'll go into the recycler for another prompt.\n\n\n \n\n\n", "Shopping! I love shopping, always have, always will. So more therapy today. Todays' been a pretty crappy Monday in my opinion. I head in to Macys, and the clerk at the cosmetics counter of my choice smiles at me. \"Hi Nancy, would you care to try our new anti-wrinkle cream?\" I stare at her. \"I'm Amanda. I think you have me confused for another customer.\" This time she looks utterly baffled, and I'm confused. \"You said to call you Nancy.\" She frowns slightly, and so do I. \"I'm pretty sure we've never met\" I respond, pushing my auburn hair out of my way. She frowns again, then reaches under the counter and pulls out a book. She opens it to the back and I see a scrawled signature which matches the one printed on the books spine. I suppose the author must be well-known and the clerk is a fan. \"You signed this last week.\" \"But I'm Amanda, not Nancy.\" She shows me the author pic and bio, and I read the bio first, more interested in the author than what she looks like. Then I look at the picture, and I can't deny it, it's me. But how? I am Amanda Lee Jones, not Nancy Rachael Winthrop. But yet...I blink, and find myself at the car, no memory of how I got there. This is freaking me out. I open the glovebox, certain the registration says my name. No. It is the Winthrop womans' name. I put my head down and cry, and wake up in an ambulance with its siren howling. \"Just stay calm, everything will be ok,\" said a voice next to me, and though I'm not able to move my head, I look in the direction of the voice. It is the young clerk, and she's holding my hand. ", "The winds, cold as they were, didn't bother me too much.\nIt was the snow that kept piling up, making it harder and harder to run.\nAs I turned around to look for a sign of life, I saw her.\nNaked, bruised and bleeding. \nI was too late.\nMy knees gave in and as I crawled through the snow towards her, I could not help but cry.\nSweet whispers followed, yet the silence was only broken by uncontrollable wailing. For the first time tonight, I could feel how cold it was.\nAs I held her in my arms, I noticed her last breath leave the lips I had kissed a thousand times, she was gone. \nWords wouldn't come as I called 911. The woman on the other side kept insisting but all I could hear was white noise, my brain refused to process anything.\nIt was only when I decided to smoke a cigarette, that I noticed the blood-covered knife in my inner pocket." ]	4
not my idea, was originally posted by "butkaf" in /r/psychonaut	[WP] (xpost /r/psychonaut) "Upon dying you wake up with a bong in your hand, surrounded by aliens asking if it worked."	[ "It faded like a bad taste or a dream. That's all it was after all. A free fall through a subconscious thought to be long gone. \n\n\"Paper,\" I said. \"Start writing.\" \n\nThey clambered, gathered the materials and wrote as I spoke.\n\n\"I was young and then I was old. There was some sex, somewhere in the middle. I remember...a lot of water and a star. It was dying. It was called...what was it called? Damn...\"\n\nI looked at the bong in my hand, clenched it tight, dropped it on the halcyon floor and watched it bounce. \n\n\"What else?\" There were a few of them, all standing close, shoulder to shoulder in their tiny loft. I don't know why I listened to them. It felt like everything was emptying out of me, like water from a balloon. It wasn't worth it.\n\n\"Uh, there was, like, all this stuff. Like our phones and stuff and computers and everyone was like addicted to it kind of like this stuff and drugs and stuff. There was a lot of drugs and a lot of stuff and everyone was dying, just like the Sun. Oh, yeah. It was called the Sun. The star. There was only one instead of three.\"\n\n\"So it worked?\" They had stopped writing. \"You dreamed?\"\n\n\"I think so.\" I said, rubbing my head. \"But I barely remember.\"", "Oh man... Oh what... What the hell. \n\nI feel good, but so drained. My vision is blurry, but crystallizing before my eyes. Shapes are becoming defined objects. faces. who's, thats right, I remember these faces. I know them. They all look funny to me, slightly off. \n\nThey look like aliens. but... I recognize them, they are all familiar to me.\n\nWhat am I holding... oh thats what a bong is... my launch pad.\n\neverything is glittering, but with each second it fades. I feel as If I had been gone for years... \n\n\"How long was I out?\" I direct the question to RJubr.\n\n\"Long?\" he looks confused. \n\n\"He's still thinking in linear time guys, he's been traveling in another world.\" someone else chimed in.\n\n\"Oh, not long, we have been here waiting. where did you go?\" RJubr asked.\n\nI thought about that, but realizing all of what I had just seen and experienced had drifted to but a shadowed memory of existence, I felt tears well up in my eyes. I had seen so much, done so much, simple language could never express it. I didn't know what to say. \n\n\"Home,\" I said, looking up into the large dark orbs composing all of the eyes of all of my friends.\n\nthey all quietly looked back at me, well aware of the power of my trip.\n\n\"I bet he went to Earth, luck bastard always blasts straight to Earth.\"", "My eye's fluttered open, I found myself being watched and inspected by large grey figure's speaking quickly, I couldn't understand what they where saying as I was still hazy, like I had just awoken from a nightmare of sorts.\n\n\"Well? Did it work X21-098?\"\n\nI was confused, what did he just call me? I looked around and noticed that a long glass bong was in my hand.\n\nI spoke with a rough tone I didn't recognize as my own \"Whhaaaaat did you just call me?\"\n\nThey continued \"Oh quit playing X21-098, how was your trip?\"\n\nI was confused and worried, I noticed others where now lighting up their own bongs with what looked like weed and that's when I knew what to say.\n\n\"It was fuckiiing rad dude.\"\n\nThey all cheered as they lit up their bongs." ]	3
	[WP] Everyone suddenly has a random digit from 0-9 hovering over their heads. People try to figure out the significance of these digits, and some go insane doing so.	[ "I'm a 9, and my son is a 4. \n\nWe have both decided to live our lives as if the numbers over our head were simply not there.\nWe ignore them. My son even taped some cardboard to his mirror at just the right height, so he could avoid seeing it. \nIt is incredibly distracting.\n\nAt first most of us thought it was a form of score; a judgement upon how one has lived his or her life.\nI never believed that, however, trust me - MY life would NOT warrant a nine. \nAnd my son, my perfect beautiful son, would be way more than a four.\n\nMy husband left me when the numbers appeared. He joined The Noble Eightfold Path, and went with that group to live on the eighth parallel in Africa.\nI'll bet you can't guess what number he was.\n\nI understand the overwhelming need to know what the numbers MEAN. I really do. But, I refuse to let it get to me. The asylums are full now, and we can't build more fast enough.\nPeople just going over and over in their heads \"What does it MEAN?\" to the exclusion of all other thought. It's just not productive.\n\nI feel most sorry for the 0's. The ultimate NULL. They seem more depressed than the rest of us. Although, that new \"perfect circle\" society that sprang up last year offers some hope for the future of the 0's. \n\nThe programmers are ecstatic, they see the 0-9 rather than 1-10 as a beautiful endorsement of a binary life. Sorry though, guys, I think its more a matter of convenience, \nthere's only room for one digit. \n\nWhen my arm started to hurt, I really didn't think much of it. But then the proverbial elephant showed up. You know the one, it's the one all heart attack patients describe as sitting on their chest.\nI couldn't reach my phone, and my son was off at school. The only one to witness it was my cat. \n\nMaggie just stared at me. A knowing, kitty stare. I saw my reflection in her eyes, and the 9 started to fade. \n\nAnd the last thing I can remember is looking at Maggie and the lightbulb going off. I'm a 9 because all my lives have been used up. " ]	1
	[WP] In honor of Valentine's day, you're a lonely housewife and while your husband's away, a hunky visitor (pizza guy, UPS man, etc.) has come to fulfill your bizarre erotic desires. NSFW	[ "I really wish my husband didn't have to go to work today. I know rock science is important, but so is love! It's Valentine's Day for God's sake! I'm horny and all I've got is a pickle and a Men's Health magazine. DING DONG Who the fuck could that be? I guess I'll have to love my self later. I open the door to see a hot, young UPS delivery driver. \"I have a Package for a Sharon?\" he says to me with a smile.\n\n\"I'm Sharon, and fuck yeah I want your package.\" I say with a wink.\n\n\"Okay, just sign here.\" he says in a friendly tone.\n\n\"Uh, I need to look for a pen. Why don't you come inside.\" I mumble, waving my hand to my chest.\n\n\"Okay, ma'am.\" he retorts stepping through the door frame. I step into the kitchen and take off my blouse and skirt leaving on my lingerie.\n\n\"WHAT THE FUCK?\" I hear a shout from the living room. Shit, its my husband! I throw my clothes back on and step back out into the living room making sure I grab a pen before I do so. As I step into the room I see my husband wearing a Bane mask sitting on top of the poor UPS guy beating him brutally with his fists.\n\n\"RANDY! GET OFF OF HIM!\" I shout to my husband.\n\n\"IT'S HIM, SHARON! THE GUY WHO FUCKED GERALD'S WIFE!\" He shouts in return. The UPS guy is obviously hemorrhaging with a smile on his face as he embraces death. It is done. \n\nedit: He didn't fuck Gerald, he fucked Gerald's wife.", "[Oh, I missed the word \"bizarre\" in the prompt. I just read it as \"fulfill your erotic desires\". Oh well.]\n\nThe doorbell rang at the same time my text alert went off on my phone. Still brushing my hair with one hand, I checked my phone with the other. From John, my husband: Sorry baby, I have to work late again tonight. Happy Valentines Day! Treat yourself to something nice, I love you! <3 I turned my phone off and then adjusted my bra strap to pull my b-cups up a little higher. Checking myself in the mirror, I admired what I hoped would be enough cleavage to entice the delivery man. I smiled and after a final backwards glance to the bathroom mirror, ran swiftly to the door, almost prancing with excitement.\n\nI took a deep breath and swung it open. I laid a hand on the door jam above my head and placed my other hand on my hip, standing at an angle that I hoped would accentuate my slim figure.\n\nThe man was young and his eyes were fixed on his phone in his left hand. The pizza bag, the insulated kind that keeps food warm, was held aloft with his right hand. \"Hi, pizza for... Claire?\" He said, finally looking up. \"Oh...\"\n\nHe eyes ran down to my bare feet and back up to my chest in an instant. Then, feeling embarrassed, he quickly looked away. \"Um... I'm sorry, I think I have the wrong address...\" He stammered out and started to turn around, taking another undisguised peek at me.\n\n\"No, honey, you've got the right address. Why don't you come inside for a minute? You look like you've been working hard.\" I took his elbow and pulled him into the living room, ignoring his feeble protests. Then I sat down on the couch and spread my arms out to give him a full, unhidden view of myself and the red and black lingerie set I had bought earlier in the week. \"Set the pizza down there,\" I directed with a nod and crossed my legs, in what I hoped was a sensual manner.\n\nHe did what he was told and then stood awkwardly in the middle of the room, unsure where to look. \"This is, um, a nice place.\" He said, his eyes carefully avoiding the couch. \n\nI giggled. \"Come sit down.\" A moment later, after a couple, \"Are you sure?\"'s and \"I don't know about this\", he was sitting with my legs in his lap. I caressed his thigh with one foot and I took his hand in mine to place it on my other leg.\n\n\"You like what you see...?\" I said softly, hoping my nervousness couldn't be heard in my voice.\n\n\"Yes, I do, Claire...\" He answered quietly, just louder than a whisper. \n\nI wrapped my arms around his shoulders and neck to pull myself toward him. Then our lips met in a long, passionate kiss. No more words were spoken until after we were both naked and our clothes lay forgotten in a trail from the living room through the hall to the foot of the bed. Not until after twenty minutes of the best, most ardent sex that neither of us had had for years. We didn't talk until we had returned breathing at a normal calm rate and I drowsily rested my head on his bare chest while he stroked my hair with his fingertips. \n\nI was gazing at a picture on the nightstand of myself and my husband, taken nearly five years ago when our relationship was still beginning. We were standing knee deep in beautiful, white snow and holding each others hands, gazing into each others eyes. Then, suddenly, a curious thought popped into my head.\n\n\"John... where did you get the pizza bag?\"\n\nHe just laughed and kissed the top of my head. \"Happy Valentines Day, Claire.\"", "The sun beat down on the pool where Ann lay floating on her back. It was a hot summer day - one of the hottest in the state's history. And Ann, who loved hot summer days, was hot all by her lonesome.\n\nThe doorbell rang. Ann was in no shape to answer the door - rather, her figure was nicely shaped, but her swimsuit left little to the imagination.\n\n\"In a minute!\" she shouted. She was expecting a shipment of certain... marital aids. Whether they were better suited to the marital bed or the cramped corner of a closet would remain to be seen.\n\nAnn opened the door carefully. Outside stood a man in a starched white cap, white shirt, white pants, and a night-black bow tie.\n\n\"Hello, Miss Ann. I'm the ice cream man.\"\n\nAnn was taken aback. As far as she remembered, the ice cream man in her neighborhood didn't do deliveries. And how did he know her name?\n\n\"I'm afraid you may have the wrong house - I haven't ordered any ice cream.\"\n\n\"Oh, no, Miss Ann. You see, the weather today is so warm, so swelteringly warm, that my wares have all but melted. I can't sell it, can't take it back to the supplier. But you, Miss Ann...\"\n\nHer heart skipped a beat. She hotly anticipated what he would say next.\n\n\"You might be my most gracious customer.\"\n\nShe nodded quickly, unable to speak. \"Please - please come in.\"\n\nThe ice cream man stepped inside. He surveyed the kitchen, its floor lined with easy-clean linoleum. \"Oh yes, this will do nicely.\"\n\nHe gave Ann a wink and stepped outside once more.\n\nThe ice cream man was strong, with large arms and deft hands. He carried four gallons into the kitchen at a time, until sixteen separate flavors were lining the walls.\n\nAnn surveyed the flavors with hunger in her eyes - and stomach. Mint chocolate chip, banana, birthday cake...\n\nOh yes, she thought. These will do nicely. \n\nThe ice cream man entered for the final time, shutting the door behind him. Her heart nearly leapt into her mouth when she saw what he was carrying.\n\nThe piece de resistance - a banana split dish large enough to fit an entire human woman.\n\n\"Hop in, Ann,\" he said with a wink. She shed her swimsuit, and with it, all of her inhibitions.\n\n\"Pour it on me,\" she purred seductively. \"Make me into the banana split of my dreams.\"\n\nThe ice cream man picked up a gallon of strawberry ice cream soup, removed the lid, and poured it on her eager body.\n\nSploosh.", "Penny heaved the last bucket into place in the corner of the lounge, stacking it on top of one of the six other super-sized plastic paint containers beside the stereo. The container rattled menacingly as the contents settled inside and she allowed herself a prim smile of satisfaction; everything was in place. \nSettling into the couch that was pushed up against one wall, she helped herself from the margarita jug on the small table to the side of the couch. All she had to do now was wait for the doorbell to ring and for her fantasy to begin. \n\nHer husband, Eliot, was out of town on yet another business junket. \nShe imagined that right now he was probably eating sushi off some impossibly perfect Japanese girl's taut, childless stomach and doing lines of coke off her pert, stretch-mark free breasts. Ever since their third child, Eliot has eschewed Penny's advances and her sex life had become non-existent - while his, she strongly suspected, was restricted to his offshore dealings in foreign countries where she could never be sure of his activities and whereabouts. \nBut today she was going to make up for that and a have a little fun of her own. \n\nRight on time, the doorbell rang and a tipsy Penny wandered languidly over to let her guest in - hired from a friend who had suggested the service to her. \n\"Helloooooo,\" she purred to the tall, handsome, dark-haired man with carefully tailored stubble and the too-tight polo shirt of a fictional cleaning company, Services for Housewives. \nShe led him in by one hand, her diaphanous nightgown billowing to show the racy Victoria's Secret underwear she had on underneath. She stopped in the middle of the lounge and pointed to the paint buckets stacked in the corner next to the stereo cabinet. \n\"Those. Pick them up, open them and pour it all out into the middle of the carpet.\" \nWith a shy smile, he complied, now noticing that all the furniture had been pushed against the walls to leave the centre of the room clear for whatever was in the buckets. \nThe first one rattled as he picked it up and moved it to the middle of the room and some memory from his childhood stirred... could it be? No, surely not! \nRipping off the lid he was startled to find that he'd been right on the money: \nThe bucket was brimming with Lego bricks. \n\"POUR IT ALL OVER THE FLOOR!\" screamed Penny from the couch, her eyes intent on him. \nHe did as he was bid, picking up bucket after bucket of Lego and pouring it over the floor of the lounge. \n\"YES!\" exclaimed Penny, \"YES! Spread it around baby, cover the whole floor with it, don't stop!\" \nThis was definitely one of his weirder clients, but John complied, pushing the huge mound of plastic bricks around until the carpet was completely covered in a kaleidoscope of bright colours. \nPenny was perched in the edge of the couch now, hovering over the lake of bricks, her cleavage heaving and her face flushed with excitement, \n\"Now take your clothes off and walk all over them!\" she commanded, her voice rough with suppressed desire. \nJohn started to undress and stared ruefully at the landscape of pain spread in front of him. \nHe really didn't get paid enough for this shit." ]	4
	[WP] There used to be a race living on Mars but the planet, like a donor recieving incompatible blood, refused them and killed them off. It has since laid dormant, but now it once again awakens with the arrival of another race... Humans.	[ "John stepped out of his home block and sighed, the cold gripping his body like a vise. Even though the Roanoke colony he lived in was placed on the planet's equator, it still felt damn cold to the Texas native. He glanced up to the protective dome that covered the community, squinting at the sun through the hexagonal panels that prevented harmful radiation and small projectiles from hitting the colonists. He frowned as he tallied the opaque tiles, their haziness an indication of spiderweb cracks that indicated impact damage.\n\nEvery colony maintained their own local government, with roles and duties assigned by a committee and a program, to ensure efficiency, and to make sure each bio dome could more or less survive for a short while without aid. Additionally, each colony had a specialty product, to reduce the need for the costly cargo ships from Earth. His happened to be the panels he had just been staring at.\n\nEven as he began to walk towards the production plant, he could see replacement crews in their spider-like pods moving around the dome to replace the cracked hexagons. Just as he reached the entrance, the ground shook and the dome above him was ripped apart like a sheet of aluminum as the ground below him tore apart. As he slammed into the building, he felt himself release his breath, and the gravity of the situation dawned upon him as surely as Mars' terrible strength pulled him into the hole.\n\nFirst attempt, criticism welcome.", "I remember the kath'kin, they were weak. They were weak and they did not last. A moment to me, a blink of the eye as I forced them from my breast; generations for them. They became twisted, vile versions of what they once were, and for a moment, I considered adopting this new iteration. But they were still weak and have long since become dust. \n\nAnd for a time, I rested. But as I did, a miraculous thing happened. The Apes of on my sisters surface began to grow. And I found myself intrigued. Where the Kath'kin were weak to begin with, these Apes were not. As soon as they would scour the ground for near rotten fruit, they would work as one to kill any animal they came across. They were a truely unique creation, who would sacrifice themselves for their fellows moments after killing their neighbor. \n\nI knew they would not die, they would not be contained by their terrestrial restraints. They would not be like the Kath'kin, who became space-farer's only when their homeworld could no longer support them. No, even now, mere infants they attack knowledge with a tenacity I have never seen. The only war they fought with more ferocity then those between themselves was the war against ignorance. They fought a war of attrition against ignorance; every discovery a victory, no matter how irrelevant.\n\nAnd all the while I prepared for their inevitable coming. I watched them settle in tundra's, and I froze my life-waters. I watched them dominate and consume every fellow creature my sister had created, and so I voided myself of life. I saw them walk the moon and so I ejected my atmosphere. Yet still they set their eyes on me.\n\nProbes and satellites and space stations and maned surface missions, they came; and I did not hold back. they averaged only half of a crew surviving each trip, magnetic flares, inopportune crust shifts, anything I could do to halt them. Still they came. \n\nAnd now, now I see them coming again, with the intent to build a surface colony. I see them coming, bruised, and battered, and full of grit. Come, children of earth, come now and show me you are not weak." ]	2
	[WP] People do not die until they have fulfilled their purpose in life.	[ "There are, of course, manifold purposes for one to fulfill in their life. That fact alone made the mandate that was passed down in a booming voice on a chilly February morning so confusing. After President Jacobs dropped dead the moment his education bill was signed into law, the consensus was reached that the \"purpose\" the voice spoke of was the one that was most far-reaching, or at least the \"largest,\" whatever that might mean for a person. Furthermore, some postulated that one's death may indeed be their greatest purpose, or that they might fulfill their purpose through death.\n\nThis led to a fair number of depressing realizations for much of the world's population. \n\nIt also led to a great amount of hope for those who intended to end their lives. \n\nAnd so it was that Jane Edwards awoke on the shores of strait downstream of the golden gate bridge. ", "My name is Eugine Everhart and I am 1001 years old. While my age my make me seem impressive, I am perhaps the least respected human on the planet. Countless souls before me have lived and died making their mark on this world. However I yet to have accomplished anything in the ample amount of time I've been given.\n\nAs a boy I spent my early years distracted, wondering if there is meaning on this earth. You see, when I was conceived my father died and in childbirth my mother died. I was orphaned but my great-aunt took me in. She was a frail old woman but she held on until I was just about the age where I could feed and take care of myself. It was then that she died. \n\nI was told that all souls have been put on this earth to fulfill some purpose and I suppose these three people, the only humans I've ever known, had accomplished that through me. And now I spend the rest of my days wondering, what is my purpose? Why have I been granted more than 1000 years? ", "I sat down on the street, leaning against an old tired building, with a dead man on my right and a homeless man on my left. The man had just died giving the homeless man a fifty dollar bill. The mans purpose was simple. A small act of kindness. However, my purpose was not as easy. \n\nI'm two hundred and eighty three, all my children have achieved their purpose, and I'm sitting in front of a street full of people trying to do the same thing.\n\nYou could say I'm lost, because I am. I lived my whole life knowing that I had to find the thing that completes me, and that's all I'd ever have to do. So ya, you could say I'm lost, because I am two hundred and eighty three years old and I have no idea what to do.\n\n\"Try giving me money.\" \n\nI turned. The homeless man was looking at me. \n\n \"What?\" \n\n\"Try giving me money.\" He said, \"and then maybe you'll die, or whatever.\"\nI reached in my pocket and found a twenty. I gave it to the man. We waited.\n\"Any pain?\" The man said after awhile. \"Nope, nothing. Not even the slightest hint of a stomach ache.\" \n\n\"That's too bad,\" the man replied, and then stuffed the money in his shoe. \n\n\"I'm two hundred and eighty three.\" I said quietly, \"I have no idea what to...\" \n\n\"Whats wrong with this world anyway.\" The man stopped me, \"All these people are rushing here and there trying to find new ways to kill themselves.\"\n\n\"Well when you put it that way..\" \n\n\"Maybe you've been given a gift.\" The homeless man said to me, \"Your two hundred and eighty something years old and you look healthy as ever. I say, if you can't die then go live. Have some fun, watch some television, go make lemonade. Live like you're going to die tomorrow, because that can very easily happen around here.\" \n\n\"You're right.\" I smiled at the man, \"Thank you.\"\n\n\"Now go. Walk away and go live an amazing life.\" \n\nSo I did, I walked away, and I was determined to live like there's no tomorrow instead of to live like I needed to die today.\n\n\n\n\n", "\"God dammit! Would you shut the hell up woman!\" said Michael as he slapped his wife for the third time this day. \n\n\"You're drunk again. Why do you always do this. I love you honey.\" wept Rachel as she lay there on the floor. \"I wanted to surprise you with this news...I'm pregnant\"\n\nMichael face turns beet red as he smashes the furniture in the house. Going on a rampage screaming about how he doesn't want a child and that they cannot afford to raise one. He storms out of the house saying he will not be there to support her and raise the child. As he leaves the sound of Rachel crying echos through the empty house.\n\n9 Months later...\n\nRachel is the maternity ward on her due day about to be induced. The doctor checks her cervix. \n\n\"Ok Rachel, your 8cm dilated. You will have your baby any moment so just relax and let your body do its thing naturally.\" As Rachel watches him leave her eyes fixate on a man she hasn't seen in months. \n\n\"Michael, what are you doing here?\"\n\n\"I came to apologize\" he said. \"Ever since I left the house all those months ago I have been kicking myself for not being there and supporting you in your time of need. I have been going to AA meetings and have been sober ever since. I want to be here with you now more than ever.\"\n\nAs he finished saying his words Rachel goes into labor. The doctor rushes in and starts the procedure. 30 minutes later Rachel screams in agony as the final push brings forth a beautiful baby boy. The doctor cleans him up and hands her to his mother. As both Michael and Rachel stare deep into the boy's beautiful eyes, Michael hold Rachel's hand.\n\n\"I love you\" he says.\n\n\"And I you\" she replies.\n\nAs they exchanged these sentimental expression the baby coos and laughs looks at his parents and slowly closes his eyes...", "It’s dark. Cold. There’s nothing. \n\nThey say everyone has a purpose, a meaning. That no one may pass onto the next world until they’ve fulfilled their role in this one. \n\nNow only I live. \n\nIn the before times, where there was light, people, music, I was just another face. My friends and I’d go out to bars, and you know, all the normal things that normal people do. But I’m not normal. I couldn’t find my reason. \n\nSlowly I watched everyone I know find their meaning, then pass. My friend Kurt died in his late 20s, after his band took off. My mom died in her 80s, after watching her great-grand kids graduate. \nThe tears stopped after the first century. \nAfter a while my new friends started to replace the old ones to the point where I didn’t even notice anymore. “FINALLY” I thought, I found my meaning, to befriend all and keep the stories of their youth alive. But I was wrong. \n\nNow only I live. \n\nIt’s funny, people spent so much time imagining the end, we never stopped to think “What if we survive?” Humanity flourished, we carried on. We reached the stars. We preserved our presence. \n\nThe big freeze, they called it, the absolute last major event in history. It turns out no matter how advanced we became, we never could outrun death. Super computers were built, with the sole task of trying to reverse entropy, trying to undo the expansion of life. The overambitious universe. \n\nNow only I live, tending to the computers. \n\nMy role wasn’t to keep the story of mankind alive,\nIt was to watch the universe die. \n" ]	5
Didn't want to make the titre super long so I'm adding stuff here. A simulation is shut down when every human dies. By 'our universe', I mean the one we are in right now. As in this is all a simulation. As to a plotline or theme, that's up to you. Talk about the trials of seeing each simulation end, or how you're thinking of shutting down this simulation. Or seeing that we are inevitably, like all the other simulations, heading to our extinction.	[WP] You are program overseer of the Life Simulation Project for the species known as Homo sapiens. Of the 4000 simulations, only one, #3251, is still operational. #3251 is our universe.	[ "The display winked out, the hologram slowly fading from the edges as its fields lost coherency. Jeanine-152 sighed as she stared at the remains of the barren world she’d been overseeing; its fate sealed for the last thousand or so years of simulated reality. She’d been observing the Life Simulation Project’s newest species for the past six weeks of realtime, watching the 4,000 garden worlds they’d simulated fail for some reason or another. \n\nThis time it had been ecological collapse brought on by excessive resource exploitation. Somehow this branch of humanity hadn’t managed to restrain themselves from destroying the biosphere for long enough. Jeanine once had high hopes for this world, she’d tweaked the parameters herself – a little extra aggression, slightly higher metabolic speed. It hadn’t worked; they’d killed each other in several world-spanning conflicts, billions of them dying for no reason. She could review it all, of course, in perfect detail; every aspect of the simulation had been recorded. There was no need. The demise of this world was already burned into her memory. \n\nFinally even the barren world at the centre of the display faded out and Jeanine managed to muster the willpower to push herself away. Four thousand simulated realities. Four thousand branches of humanity, some tweaked by hand to test theories, but the majority simply slightly changed by unthinking algorithms; pseudo-randomised in an attempt to re-create humanity in a form that wouldn’t send itself into extinction this time. \n\nJeanine queried the network, and was pleasantly surprised to find that there was still one simulation active, #3251. She’d discounted that universe some 70,000 simulated years ago, when a volcanic eruption began a period of cooling. An ice-age reduced the population of humans to near 5000, enough for her to completely discount the possibility of their recovery. She called up the location of the pod on her HUD and followed its instructions. \n\nShe was soon here, and as expected the pod was projecting a blue-green marble. Flipping open the pod’s cover Jeanine reached in and grabbed an interface cable, jabbing it into the port on her temple. The wireless was great for small things, but given the amount of data she was about to review only a physical link would suffice. \n\nHer awareness slowly shifted into the simulation and Jeanine found herself floating above a bustling metropolis. Humans, still in their base form (bipedal, two arms, two eyes), flitted around in various vehicles. She ignored them for now, more concerned with the state of the world as a whole. By all appearances there was a thriving international economy, the most industrialised nation states having recently transitioned to a service-based economy. There was something else too, an interlinked communications system spanning most of the planet, allowing for free transfer of ideas. How had this happened? \n\nJeanine thought back on the history of this world, and the simulation responded. Before her eyes time reversed itself. She watched the seasons change in seconds: winter, autumn, summer, spring. The metropolis grew steadily smaller, the air grew cleaner. The longer she reversed the faster it went, no longer smoothly shifting instead jumping back decades, then centuries, and finally millennia in an instant. \n\nShe stopped at the ice age and let the direction of time reassert itself. What made them so different from the others? How did this iteration of humanity survive? She watched Darwinian processes in action: the least adaptable, the infirm and the unlucky all dead; their simulated genes not passed on. The next generations of humans were generally more adaptable, intelligent and strong. They were curious. \n\nJeanine skipped forward a way, watched the tribal humans congregate in larger and larger numbers. Ten thousand generations passed, then fifteen. They developed animal husbandry, agriculture, irrigation. Civilisation blossomed in a river valley: towns and cities formed, they united into an empire. The empire collapsed, no longer able to feed its citizens; irrigation had left salt throughout their farmland. The idea of civilisation lived on, the diaspora spreading the knowledge far and wide.\n\nEmpires rose and fell, each one more grand than the last, each one having learned from past mistakes. Each contributing to that knowledge when they too collapsed. One formed on a peninsula in an inland sea eventually conquering most of the surrounding land, lasting for a thousand years before its gradual decline and collapse. After this, kingdoms were restricted in size by technology and geography, eventually forming nation-states. Advances in technology were made, lost knowledge was rediscovered. \n\nPopulation hit a critical mass, increased trade between nations brought prosperity and plague. Over half the population died, those that remained showed their characteristic adaptability: machines were created, labour saving devices that allowed one man to do the work of ten. The balance of power began to shift from the nobility to the greater population. \nThe pace of technological advancement increased: the use of labour-saving devices allowed more free time. More free time led to improvements to labour saving devices, leading to more free time: a feedback loop. They developed the scientific method. And through all this they explored further than ever before, conquering faraway lands, subjugating natives and through the process spreading their ideas even further. \n\nThe world was moving at a frenetic pace now, Jeanine had to slow down. In the last three centuries they harnessed steam and industrialised explosively. Improvements in sanitation and food production allowed them to pack more and more humans into a given area. They developed electricity, and the internal combustion engine: They turned them to war. \n\nIn the last century they destroyed each other on a massive scale. They fought in trenches, developed aircraft, poison gas. After a brief interruption they took their madness to a new level. They attempted to genocide a whole ethnicity. They firebombed cities, destroyed their infrastructure, and finally as the conflict was reaching its climax they detonated two crude fission weapons. Jeanine was horrified. \n\nThe conflict ended and the belligerents showed compassion, extending the hand of friendship where there had been hate. They rebuilt at an astounding pace, the conflicts having driven their mastery of technology to new heights. They began repairing the destruction they’d visited on their environment.\n\nA fragile peace reigned, kept in place by the threat of Mutually Assured Destruction. Low intensity conflicts simmered, but the world did not return to the madness of global conflict. Jeanine watched as two superpowers stared each other down. She watched them realise the consequences of their actions as if she was standing in the same room. They were the first simulation to realise their folly. \n\nThe whole world stepped back from the brink. The superpowers competed for prestige, managing to develop vehicles that would allow them to escape their gravity well. They actually managed to travel to their moon! \n\nA revolution happened: They developed and then networked digital computers enabling a free exchange of culture and ideas. They formed a truly multinational society, the shared link of humanity allowing them to transcend borders. Their crude AI research was reminiscent of Jeanine’s own progenitors, the first of pan-humanity’s AIs, built in their own image. \nJeanine jacked out. One left out of four thousand attempts, shaped more by the ice-age population bottleneck than by the initial criteria set for this sim. She could take this to the board and argue for instantiation. They might be able to bring back the Fragile variety of humanity after all. \n\nJeanine saved the state of the simulation and squirted it to long-term storage, just in case: the hour it’d take to hear back from the board would be almost 70 years in sim. She took one last look at the beautiful blue-green marble and left. Hopefully it’d still be there when she got back. \n", "Oozur sat at his desk, head resting wearily on one propped up tentacle, the other tentacle restlessly clicking the button on his ink pen. His anxiety was apparent as small beads of sweat formed at his brow before slowing rolling down his cheeks and dripping onto his firmly creased white shirt. His eyes raced up and down as the numbers cascaded from the brightly lit panel in front of him, indicating the status of the last remaining simulator. Oozur contemplated his dilemma as he shifted back and forth in his chair. \n\nHaving the title of Program Overseer meant he was mandated to collect and organize all data coming from the Life Simulation Project until the final simulation had ended. For eons he had spent his days and nights locked away in the small control room collecting the numbers and watching as thousands of Homo sapien civilizations had risen and fallen. He had watched silently as the human race had been ended by wars, famine, disease, nuclear holocaust and cosmic disaster. The first few hundred times were honestly devastating to him. He clicked his pen faster as he basked in the electronic light and relived the memories. After a millions years of simulation observation had passed he had grown indifferent to the process. The pen strokes after each closing simulation had grown more calculated and recently he had even come to consider himself bored with the project. Now, staring at the numbers of the last civilization, he had began to consider a thought that had not crossed his mind in millions of years. The End, he thought to himself. The end of the project. \n\nHe began to sweat more profusely as the thought raced across the landscape of his mind. The prospect of freedom from this endeavor had seemed so far away at the beginning as to not even be considered a reality. Now it hung over Oozur's head like a grand chandelier suspended by a strand of hair. He momentarily stopped clicking his pen as he readjusted himself in his seat and looked at his data collection on the final simulation. He had seen simulations get off to better starts but all things considering this one was particularly resilient. What if they don't fail? Oozur furrowed his brow as he considered the possibility. What if they figure it out? What if they leave the planet Earth and successfully colonize where all the others failed? What if they go interstellar? How many more millions of years could they possibly go on? His twin hearts began to race feverishly at the thought of his denied freedom. He put down his pen and placed his tentacles across the control console, bringing up the intervention prompt. He had only ever needed to use the prompt once before when simulation #2255 had realized they were a simulation. He stared blankly at the blinking prompt for a few moments before settling on his method of sabotage. With a few keystrokes he accessed the collective consciousness of the fledgling species and began the process of increasing the variables he knew would keep them from advancing to their possible potential. Religion. Oozur smiled to himself as he folded his tentacles behind his head and leaned back in his chair. ", "Stepping around the suspended holo-monitor, Overseer #2218 had a visible crease between his brows and a slight downturn of his lips. The gentle tap-clack-clack of notes being taken echoed in the otherwise barren cylindrical chamber. Looking closer at the monitor, his frown deepened.\n\n\"What makes this one different?\" His concerns were voiced mostly to himself, but the younger technician looked up from where he was on the other side of the monitor anyways.\n\nA concerned look crossing his face, the technician asked warily, \"uh.. sir?\" The monitor stayed suspended in the center of the chamber, as if taunting the two with its very presence. More figures passed down the sidewalk that the viewpoint was currently centered on, a red haired girl who was absorbed in some sort of communication device and a somewhat older man.\n\n\"You heard what I said,\" called the Overseer, \"what makes them so damn different?\" The question was punctuated by the sharp thump of his hand slamming against the desk. \"Most of them don't even make it to flight, much less sending probes to other planets!\"\n\nAs the Overseer turned away from the screen, the younger technician looked on towards him in concern. \"There's the matter of that glitch that started popping up a while back...\" he trailed off as the view panned over to follow the two on the sidewalk up towards a park.\n\nThe Overseer turned back sharply, a hand slicing through the air in irritation, \"I know bout the damn glitch! Over fifty other simulations had the same glitch and they all ended up killing each other before they were out of the stone age!\" Pacing back up towards the screen, he pursed his lips and flattened his brow. The two figures on the screen had joined some of the others in forming some sort of circle around people kneeling in the street. \"These... these people. What's going on here?\"\n\n\"Well.. uh... you see,\" the technician stuttered a bit as the people started to join hands, making some sort of human wall between the kneeling people and an angry crowd going on around them. \"There's apparently some sort of government protest going on for this sector of their planet. Its all been rather violent-\"\n\n\"To be expected,\" the Overseer said, cutting him off. \"Its that damn glitch. Makes them more violent than they're supposed to be. Were supposed to be scavengers, not predators.\"\n\nThe technician brightened up a bit at this though, grabbing for a tablet and moving the view around the ring of people as they seemed to be keeping the violent crowd away from those in the center. \"That's the thing, though!\" He said cheerily, \"I think this is part of the glitch. We don't see this sort of behavior in the other simulations very often, I think the increased aggression has also made for increased tribe mentality.\"\n\nThe younger man flushed momentarily, looking embarrassed, but the Overseer motioned him to continue. \"Sorry,\" he murmurs out before speaking normally again, \"I've been with this simulation since the beginning. You see, the tribe mentality thing means most of them kill each other off quickly, but these have been around so long they've started working together. I think they're starting to see themselves as one big planet-wide tribe.\"\n\nFrom the Overseer, for the longest moment, came only a dull, \"huh.\" He paused the view screen as he looked on at the scene before swiping and allowing it to continue. \"Think they have potential? They're our last shot at making this work.\"\n\nThe technician almost bounced as he zoomed out the view to look at the overall planet again, \"I really do. I mean, we were violent like that in our race's youth. Sure, its not good for peace and everything, but maybe a little violence is needed for the intelligence to develop properly?\"\n\nThere was quiet in the room for the longest time before the Overseer slowly nodded and started to make his way to the doorway. \"I'll review this with the council. I think this one has potential to be The One. Exactly what we've been looking for.\"" ]	3
	[WP] The year is 2290. To test the existence of a soul once and for all, scientists place the still living brain of a long dead man inside of the body of a person who is brain dead. What happens when s/he wakes up?	[ "Dark. \nDark? \nA glow. The experience worked, it seems. I can smell the shapes of a body next to me. \n\"Doctor Sahti?\" \nA comforting orange answer, okay, thats him. How do I feel in there? There? Right, her body... My body now. It feels a bit panicked by my intrusion, but curious. \n\"I N D I G O \n B.L.U.E.\" I answer, i'm fine. I guess. \nSahti's voice turns green, anxious. Of course i'll be okay. Just need time to adjust. Dark green now. Not the problem? He talk about.. what? A loop? I don't get it. \nDark. \nDark?\n\n", "Dark. Cold.\n\nI remember a car. Behind the wheel. Lights moving fast, faster than they should.\n\nCrash. Metal hitting metal. Glass shattering.\n\nBright. White. Warm.\n\nI know everything, understand everything. I remember from days past to far in the future. All is seen, and all is calm.\n\nThese are not my own memories. I do not remember these things.\n\nNot any more.\n\nMy body feels different, smaller somehow. Like a home after being away for a number of years. Familiar, yet distant.\n\nI'm lying on a table. Surgery? Perhaps. Devices beep in the background, mumured voices fill the periphery.\n\nMy knowledge is fading. I am becoming human again. My eyes, this body's eyes open as I look at the doctor.\n\nThe man who stole me from heaven.\n\nI stare into his eyes, see no malice. Only curiosity, and a pain of past loss. He is only searching for answers. I see his wife, her lying on the pavement. The pain as he learns to live without her.\n\nA name. Helen. It would've been their 23 anniversary yesterday.\n\nShe told me that, I recall. Kept track of the days somehow. Helped her to cope, I guess.\n\nI look into his eyes as he draws closer.\n\n\"I'm sorry about Helen. You two made a beautiful couple. She always kept track of the days.\"\n\nTears fall on this body's face as the doctor remembers.\n\nJust like that the moment is gone. The light fades. The dream ends. Now I am human again. \n\nConfused. \n\nAlone.\n\n\"Why did you bring me back?\"", "\"AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!\"\n\nDropping his clipboard, the new intern rushed over to the operating theatre. Today was that day.\n\nThrough the glass, a contorted body continued to writhe on the table. Movement of the arms and legs were punctuated by sudden gasps, which quickly reduced to feeble sobbing as the body clutched its head. The overseeing surgeon shook his head.\n\n\"I should've known. The muscles are atrophied, the brain needs to adapt to external stimuli. Sedate him.\"\n\nThe intern could only look on as the theatre lights were dimmed and the now resting body was rolled out.", "I sit straight up gasping for air. The world around me is pristine white and medical. The men all around in lab coats are taking notes and speaking a type of German I haven't heard before. Damn Nazi scientists must be doing some kind of experiment on me. I will finish my mission! I throw my hand out to grab a projectile from the table next to me, but my hand slaps the glass of water to the floor. Why is my arm so long? It's so dainty? This can't be real! They turned me into a dame! All my training is out the window if I can't even guage how long my limbs are, I have to fall back on instinct. The war criminals all around me are working up into a frenzy, calling out for backup is my guess. Good. Their panic is what I need. Shakily I roll out of the bed they have me on, grabbing a vase of flowers as I go. I chuck it at the nearest one catching him in the side of the head. He drops. I suppose even as a dame I am still the best at killing Germans. The rest of the scientists are running out the door and I should probably follow. I was so close last time. I am going to have to hurry if I am going to get that close to the Fuhrer again. I can hear security outside, this is my chance. I burst through the door only to feel, for the second time, a knife plunging into my chest.", "I open my eyes slowly, struggling to adjust to the harsh light. I know none of the faces perched over me, with their tan skin, orange eyes and sharp cheek bones. I try to move and feel heavy. They talk but I don't understand. Another language? Maybe. Similar to mine at least but nothing I recognise. \n\nThey hurriedly chatter away, gawking at me. What is going on? I try again to move but still it feels heavy, wrong. I look down. Those aren't my arms. Not my legs. Not my body. I guess I should be scared yet I feel no emotion, just simple logical thoughts. \n\nI don't understand whose body this is. The last thing I remember is falling into water. Yesterday? No. A long time ago. \n\nWhen I finally start to slip away the room is empty and I'm alone. Alone and falling into water. Alone and slipping away. \n\nThe last thing I see is orange eyes filling the room, and I'm gone." ]	5
Inspired by Kim jong-un looking at things	[WP] The supreme leader has just visited a factory and recommended some really stupid changes.	[ "(Accidentally posted this on fringly's subreddit)\n\nWe all sat around the table looking nervously at one another. The Supreme Glorious Leader's memo had just arrived. No one would quite make eye contact, as if acknowledging the paper in front of us would give it life.\n\nFinally our supervisor sighed. He knew he was clearly going to be responsible and reached out trembling fingers to pick up the paper.\n\n\"Change number one\", his voice cracked slightly as he began to read...\n\n----------\n\nA few days later and the work was complete. We all stared disconsolately at our handiwork. All around the walls of the factory floor, each worker had hung up their own contribution. As expected, most of the signs were cat themed. Cats chasing balls of yarn, cats lapping up milk, doing somersaults. Some had words, captions to go with them.\n\nUnder each offering were two pins, upon which hung the small tiles we had all been given. One with a red arrow, and one with a blue arrow. We had a quota of tiles to distribute each day. The penalty for failing to distribute all tiles was high. The reward for getting the most 'upvotes' was random, and mostly involved some imaginary currency that nobody could spend.\n\nEach and every day we were called upon to bring in a new offering. It was my job to 'moderate' the offerings, inspecting them for quality and...\n\nI gasped.\n\n\"Min-jun!\" I cried standing in front of their poster. All work on the factory floor ceased. Not a word was spoken, but looks were nervously exchanged all around. Min-jun slowly made their way over to where I was standing. Reluctantly, as if pulled through thick mud, the rest of the workers slowly followed. Finally Min-jun stood before me, while everyone else gathered around in a circle.\n\n\"Min-jun\", I said, \"did Joo-won not already use this same image last Thursday?\"\nMin-jun stammered, \"I- I- don't think so. No, this is definitely mine. I made this.\"\n\nThe crowd tensed.\n\n\"No, Min-jun,\" I thundered, \"this is not yours. You did not make this. This is a repost.\"\n\n\"But, Ye-jun re-posted this just three days ago, and it got the most votes that day!\" Min-jun protested.\n\nJust then a commotion in the back of the crowd drew my attention. Workers were scrambling to get out of the way as the Supreme Glorious Leader strode unannounced in to your presence.\n\n\"Ah\", he said taking in the spectacle before him, \"what do we have here?\"\n\n\"Min-jun\", I swallowed carefully as I spoke, \"has reposted this.\"\nThe Supreme Glorious Leader looked sadly at Min-jun. \"You know the penalty for reposts.\"\n\nMin-jun trembled. A bundle of twigs and branches, tied tightly together, were brought out and lashed to Min-jun's back.\n\nThe Supreme Glorious Leader looked expectantly at the gathered crowd. Quietly, someone spoke first in the back.\n\n\"Fag...\", they said. Additional voices took up the call, \"Fag. Fag! FAG!\" Until the cacophony of shouting reduced Min-jun to a sad, quivering heap.\n\nThe Supreme Glorious Leader looked about sagely as the last of the voices died out. Then he looked up at the offending repost. He continued to look, and then started to chuckle. The chuckle became full blown laughter as he delighted in the image.\n\nHe then reached in to the breast pocket of his jacket and pulled out two arrows, one blue and one red. His eyes twinkles slightly as he leaned forward and firmly hung the upwards pointing red arrow underneath the repost.\n\n\"Still\", he said, \"I have not seen this before and it is very funny.\"\n\nMin-jun finished the day with the most upvotes.", "I work in factory in Glorious Korea. Is hard work, stir paint for twelve hours, but is good job, make enough money to feed family and we can live in good house with clean water. \n\nIn recent time we have man come and say that we are now number one paint factory in all of Glorious Korea, this makes us happy and proud as we work hard to make paint for many homes. Now we work even harder, knowing that our work is noticed and is good. \n\nOne day I arrive at factory and I see man I have never known with foreman. Foreman tells us, tomorrow we will be visited by Great and Glorious Supreme Leader. Is hard to believe as I have never seen him in person, only on TV show in work canteen when they show news. That night I go home and family is excited, I will get double pay tomorrow so long as visit goes well. \n\nGrandmother holds my face and tells me to remember this day, that this is great day I will remember forever. She smiles and tells story of when she meet glorious founder of country. Is good story. \n\nI arrive next day at work so early. There are soldiers, men, everywhere by foreman tells then I am god worker, best at stirring tanks and I am let through. Many of men I work with are sent home and new men brought to sit in their chairs. New men are tell, healthy, fat, not like me I work with. I need to work stirring machines though and cannot be done by new man so I stay, I will be paid. \n\ni do as told and do not look when Glorious Supreme leader arrive, I stay and stir and he come over to me and look at my job. \"What is this?\" He ask. \n\nI tell him, I stir paint to make it good. Here I stir white. Here Blue and here yellow. He laugh and clap and say, \"Why you not make green? Yellow and Blue make green. You must make green now and we have four paints not three!\"\n\nI look at leader. White paint is for home. Blue paint is for factories. White paint is made with water. Blue paint is made with oil. Two paints do not mix. Dyes do not mix. What he asks is impossible. \n\nNext day we do not make white paint. We mix blue and white paint and I stir all day and it not mix. I do not say anything. I stir and watch the paint swirl and it looks strange, it not look good. \n\nNext day on TV in canteen I see Glorious leader holding can of green paint. TV says that he has increased output of my factory by one third and many more workers now employed. TV says we now make green paint and sell for much money to friends in China. \n\nAfter lunch I continue working with other men. We take bad green paint to river and pour it in and when tank is empty we start to clean it carefully. Tomorrow we start making white paint again. " ]	2
	[WP] You are in a taxi on a gridlocked street when you notice people in neighboring cars are exiting their vehicles.	[ "It was nothing..... a potentially massive wall of nothing, and it could be coming this way. It was hard to accept what was going on. The human eye can see because of light. This wasn't dark though, it wasn't bright either. Black is the absence of light and color. This was absence of absence. It was similar in science class when the teacher made you hold up a piece of paper with 2 dots on it. When you held it at a certain distance away from your face you couldn't peripherally see one dot when staring at the other. But, that was a blind spot, this was some kind of mass unbeknownst of size, and growing. Things weren't being swallowed by it, they weren't disappearing. They were never there. Not so suddenly, I think I feel like what happens after this sentence.", "I hate this fucking city. \n\nTraffic has been bumper to goddamn bumper for the last sixteen blocks, and from what I can see through the snow, it's not about to magically clear up anytime soon.\n \nIt's freezing out, the wind is screaming it's way through the city streets like my daughter when she drinks and calls me to shriek about how I ruined her life.\n\nBitch.\n\nI've got sweat running down the crack of my ass because I've been sitting in this stuffy taxi for the last twenty-five minutes, and the goddamn driver refuses, absolutely fucking refuses to shut his window, but keeps pumping the heat.\n\n\"It feels good, man, you should try it,\" he throws over his shoulder.\n \nPrick.\n\nI slip my scarf off and loosen the tie around my neck. Fuck it. I'm not making it to the office anytime soon.\nI notice a few people walking past the car, ones and twos, heading back the way we came. Can't say I blame them, I'm considering just heading home for the day. I don't need to deal with this shit.\n \nThen the honks and shouts and curses begin to dissipate. Silence is a rare thing in this city, and when it happens, you take notice.\n \nThe taxi driver answers my question before I give voice to it. \n\"Something's happening back there.\"\n\nI crane my neck and see a crowd gathering a block away. Curiosity gets the better of me.\nI shove a few dollars through the glass and thank the guy, he just nods and counts the wrinkled singles.\nBundling back up, I grab my bag and begin trudging back to the crowd, seeing a few other people who've decided to abandon their relative warmth and safety to join the other onlookers.\n\nAs I reach the perimeter of the group, I see her for the first time.\n\nShe just stands there, in the middle of the street, bold as you like, the winter wind playfully tugging at the floor length cloak she's wearing, black as the space between stars. A brooch pin in the shape of a grinning skull fastens the cloak at one shoulder. Tumbles of ash-white hair spilling out from beneath a hood that keeps her eyes in darkess. She leans easily on a long, wooden pole, nearly twice her height.\n\nA few dozen people gather around her. I catch a few whispers of \"What's going on?\" as I join the ranks, and ask the question myself. A bearded man turns to shrug at me, when she speaks.\n\n\"It's time to go,\" she announces to the assembled crowd, her voice carrying easily.\n\nNo one says a word. The whispers stop. Everything stops. \n\n\"Go? Go where?\", a young girl scoffs, one headphone dangling from her ear, music blasting tinnily from the tiny bud.\n\nThe spectre clad in darkness cocks her head and fixes this girl with a stare that reminds of the way a wolf looks at deer.\n\n\"Away,\" she says simply.\n\nThe young girl laughs, an ugly, dirty sound, \"And who are you supposed to be. Some kind of travel agent?\"\n\n\"The Boatsman,\" the woman answers.\n\nShe slowly extends a beringed hand to those assembled, \"Who wants to be the first?\"\n\nThe young girl steps forward, dragging the headphones from her ears, the falling snow catching in her eyelashes. \"Anywhere?\" she asks, desperation creeping into her voice.\n\nThe woman once again fixes her gaze on her, a hunter lining up a shot, and a predatory grin creeps it's way across her face. \n\n\"Anywhere.\"\n\nWho is this girl? Who the fuck does she think she is?, I think to myself, I want to go. It's my fucking turn.\nI start shoving my way through the crowd, I want to go. ME. Take me!\n\nShe reaches out, fingers trembling from the cold and something else. Fear? Excitement? And grabs hold.\n\nAnd that's when the screaming begins." ]	2
	[WP] Begin or end a story with: "She smiles. 'I've been waiting for you.'"	[ "She smiles.\n\"I have been waiting for you.\"\n\nNot again. Oh please, no, not again.\n\nIt's been almost a year from our last meeting. I was really sure I have finally lost her.\n\nShe looked the same as always: dirty old lady, dressed in gray rags that long ago were probably some kind of robe. Mumbling crazy talk about end of the world or whatever.\n\n&nbsp;\n\nWhen I first met her, I just ignored her. \"Oh great, another crazy hobo.\"\n\nBut she was persistent. She approached me every morning, on my commute. I tried different routes, I tried to drive instead of walking - taking taxi, bus, or metro. I even borrowed a bicycle once. But somehow, she was always there. Hidden in a corner, so I would not spot her until it was too late. And she would always say the same words, the same sentence.\n\n\"I have been waiting for you.\"\n\nI finally gave up. I left my job, left my home city, even left the country. I got forged identity and started a new life. And for a while it was enough. Until today.\n\n\nShe smiles. The same crazy, absent-minded smile as always.\n\n\"I have been waiting for you.\"\n\n&nbsp;\n\nEdit: continued a bit in [another comment](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/2zp0a3/wp_begin_or_end_a_story_with_she_smiles_ive_been/cpq3bdn).\n&nbsp;", "She smiles. \"I've been waiting for you.\" \n\nShe speaks, and shortly I nod my head slowly, yet I keep my eyes on her. \"I've watched you for so long, wondering when this moment will come,\" she says. I stand there, watching her walk-, no, glide towards me, as if she had all the time in the world. As she approaches, I shiver. \"And now that it has, I feel elated,\" she speaks down to a whisper. She gets even closer, but doesn't quite touch me. I try to move, but the moment is taking over me. Maybe it already has. I try to speak, yet I realize that there are no words to say. \n\nI look into her eye, knowing exactly who she was. The truth is, I've been longing for her too, for a long time. She knows. Yet I didn't make an effort to meet her. Someone had to do it for me, and though I do want to see her, now is not the time. \n\n\"Are you ready?\" she asks. I nod, or try to, but before I could, she kisses me, and I fall down on my knees. As I fall towards the ground, I see her moving towards someone else. I hit the floor, lying beside the others. Slowly, darkness and cold covers me, and the last thing I hear is her voice. \n\nI can see, even through the darkness.\n\nShe smiles. \"I've been waiting for you.\"\n\n\n(Need more EXP to level up!)", "Some people meet when they’re young and foolish. They grow together and weather the world as a team. They’ll get to tell their grandchildren how they were high school sweethearts, and no one else ever caught their eye in fifty long years. Well, I met Marie when I was 51. I’d had two failed marriages, three kids and four homes, but I was alone again. We actually met online, us old farts. She was a friend of a friend on Facebook, and we both commented on some picture Jenny posted of her new baby. I think Marie said something about how the baby looked like a wrinkled tomato, it made me laugh. Jenny was a real bitch. \n\n\nMarie and I messaged back and forth for a while, until she gave me her phone number. It was kinda cute, I felt like a young kid again when I asked for it. We started talking every day, I’d wish her good morning and we’d drink our coffee together on Skype. She’d text me pictures of her fat little dachshund when I was bored at work. I’d wish her goodnight after we’d watched old movies together on Netflix. The thing was, she lived in Oregon, and I was in Florida. 2,500 miles is a long way, and both of us had built our lives in our communities. Marie couldn't just leave her job, or her grown son who’d just had his second child. We talked for a long time about it, and ultimately decided that we couldn't do the long distance thing anymore.\n\n\n----\n\n\nStepping out of the terminal, I shrug my bag higher on my shoulder. It's a busy airport, but our eyes meet almost immediately. I knew those eyes so very well, despite never having seen them in person. She walks over to me, the edge of her pink sundress fluttering behind her. Despite all our long conversations, the hours we’d spent together over the phone, I just don’t know what to say. I understand now that everything in my life has led me to her, and her to me. Our histories have turned us into the people who were made for each other here and now, and if we’d met in high school I don’t think that would have been true. With my first words, I want to tell her this and more, so much more, but I can’t even begin to put it into words…\n\n\nShe smiles, “I've been waiting for you.” \n" ]	3
	[WP] Your grandfather hands you a string of glass beads. He warns you never to break them. There is fear in his gaze.	[ "After filling my lungs with another gulp of the sterilized hospital air, I shut the door to Papa’s room behind me. The hall was eerily empty, only a few flickering fluorescent bulbs illuminating the aged white walls and scattered equipment. I breathed a sigh of relief, looking to the ends of the hall and making sure there weren’t any camera’s. Thankfully this wing of the hospital hadn’t been renovated to code yet.\n\nPlunging my hand back into my pocket, I closed my hands around the cool glass beads for a moment before slipping them out and holding them carefully in front of me. They weren’t remarkable looking - a deep opaque azure, with what looked like small flecks of gold and red. There was a gold clasp at one end, but the other had merely been tied off hastily, as if the clasp’s partner had broken off. Honestly, it looked like something my mother used to wear, which made Papa giving it to me all the more confusing. People weren’t allowed to wear things like this anymore, so why would Papa find this an appropriate gift on the eve of his passing?\n\nBut as I closed my hand around the beads again, moving my fingers slowly over their still cool surfaces, I knew the warning Papa had given me would baffle me just as much as his intentions with his gift. ‘Never let them shatter,’ he had warned me, his voice trembling more than usual. ‘And never break the strand. No one can know I gave them to you.’ Even after I assured him I’d be careful, his tired eyes checked around the room as if someone besides me could have been watching. ‘You promise me, boy. Promise me.’\n\nPapa was dying… So how could I not promise him?\n\nStill, it would have been nice if he’d let me know what the beads actually were, but he’d refused. I sighed again, slipping the beads back into my jacket pocket and zipping it shut. Mom and Pa would wonder what was taking so long, and I didn’t want to give them any reason to worry. Papa was close, but like the doctor said, he had a few hours left. Plenty of time for them to say their goodbyes to Papa, just as I had.\n\nMy footsteps echoed through the empty hall, though they seemed louder now than when I’d been walking to Papa’s room. An ache was forming in my chest; nerves were getting to me as I approached the end of the hall, knowing I’d have to turn the corner into the waiting room where I’d be forced to act like an entirely different conversation had happened with Papa. Waiting for his parents to finish visiting with Papa would take a lot longer, meaning more time to sit in the guard-monitored room, waiting for my parents to return. I wanted to figure out the seemingly innocent strand of beads in my pocket, but this wasn’t the place or the time. It would have to wait.\n\nAfter what felt like a lifetime, my parents returned to gather me from the waiting room, which meant Papa was gone. Mom came a while ago and asked if I wanted to see Papa again before he went. Since the only thing I’d want to talk about with him was off-limits in front of Mom and Pa, I declined, just grateful to know we’d be headed home soon. I loved Papa, but his warning had spurred a curiosity that needed to be sated. That, and sitting in the plastic chair for the past few hours was taking a toll on my back. \n\nOur trip home was as uneventful as the trip to the hospital. Mom sniffled a few times, but neither she nor Pa cried, just as I hadn’t. Dying wasn’t something you cried over, even if it was someone important to you. So as always, the train was a sea of expressionless caucasian faces, my parent’s faces standing out only because I knew how they looked when they were trying not to grieve. Their strained stoic expressions were the same ones they’d looked over my Nana’s cold body with when she passed two years ago. \n\nAs soon as we arrived home, Mom immediately excused herself to her bedroom, no doubt to take some medicine to calm herself down. Pa sat down on the couch, eyes glazed over as he stared at the tips of his plain brown shoes. I tried to walk past him to go to my room, but as soon as my booted foot hit the first stair, the couch creaked from behind me. \n\n“Leon?” My father was a strong man, someone who never quaked at even the most frightening of situations. It was the reason his work assignment had been in the mines for all those years before he hurt his back, and why he accepted reassignment as a gallowmaster. But for the first time, I heard his voice shake as Papa’s had.\n\n“Yes sir?” I turned around and looked at Pa. His sunken eyes and unkempt hair aged him, but the look on his face told me that somehow, someway, he knew what Papa had talked to me about. \n\n“Did Papa give you anything when he talked to you?” My hand itched to reach for the beads as if to cover them further from Pa's scrutinizing gaze, but I knew better. And while I’m not supposed to lie to my father, Papa had made it clear no one could know. Pa was a law-abiding man, which was likely the reason Papa hadn't trusted the beads with his son-in-law.\n\n“Just some advice, Pa.” A frown carved itself into my father’s features. “Really, Pa, he didn’t give me anything.”\n\nPa broke his gaze from mine, now distant as if he could see through the plain beige wall in front of him. Was I supposed to tell him? Had I erred by following Papa’s instruction? I watched my father intently, hoping I’d see some flash of emotion that would provide me with guidance. Instead, Pa closed his head and sighed.\n\n“You should get some rest. We’ll need to be up for the funeral in the morning.”\n\nPa didn’t need to tell me twice that he wanted to be alone. I nodded, turning on my heel and escaping to my room. I had my own business to attend to anyways. Shutting the door behind me, I quickly walked over to the closet, unzipping the pocket the beads sat in before taking the leather coat off and hanging it in its place. Besides a leather jacket, out sleepclothes and day clothes were the same brown linen pants and shirt, so I simply slipped the beads into my pants pocket before slipping underneath my covers.\n\nI’d been so anxious to hold the beads in my hands again my hands had begun shaking. What was so important about the strand of beads that they couldn’t be broken? Fingering one of the cool spheres between my thumb and forefinger underneath the sheets, I considered for a moment simply throwing the beads against the wall to see what would happen when they shattered. What could truly come from breaking even one of the plain blue beads? \n\nBalling my hand into a tight fist around the beads, I closed my eyes. The string had to just be an old necklace of Nana’s that Papa wanted to make sure was well cared for. Considering things like this weren’t permitted now, Papa probably gave it to me since I’d only heard stories of beads and jewelry like these from Nana when she was alive. Breathing out through my nose, I accepted this had to be the only explanation. Papa passing and his emotional warning had caused me to be paranoid over what had to be a simple strand of glass beads. That had to be all.\n\nWas looking to write more but have to stop for work in the morning. Might continue tomorrow.", "Why in the flying fuck did I get beads as my birthday gift? Jazmine got $200, and for my 18th birthday I got beads. WE'RE TWINS!! And I get shafted, again. Nothing in my life ever goes right. \n\nWhatever, maybe I can pawn them and buy some weed. That'd salvage the trainwreck that's been my birthday. First mom and dad give me a savings bond for $10k that can only be used towards my education, then Chris forgets that it's my birthday, and goes to the Wiz concert with Meghan, even though he knew that I was trying to hit that. What a prick. \n\nI grab my wallet, the beads, and I quietly creep out of my bedroom. I make it downstairs without an issue, but right when I make it down the last step, I hear a click, and the light turns on. \n\nSitting in the armchair that he gave me that lackluster gift in is Grandpa Dennis. \"Where are you going this late in the evening?\", he wheezes. His hair has a yellowish tinge to it, and his eyes are in constant motion, a trait he contributes to his time in Korea.\n\"Out to see some friends Grandpa\", I whisper hoping he gets the hint to keep his voice down.\n\"FRIENDS?!?!? AT THIS TIME OF NIGHT? YOU'RE NOT ON THE POT ARE YOU JACK?\", he inquires at the top of his lungs. \n\n\"No Grandpa, I'm not, I'm just going out to meet a girl.\" \n\n\"A girl, eh? Well, remember what I said about those beads. Don't break them. And if this harlot sees the beads, no matter how much she tries to convince you to give them to her, stand tall and resist the temptation. Those beads are special.\"\n\n\"Ok gramps\", I say reaching over to give him a hug. He's mostly bones, and recoils at my attempt at expressing emotion. I turn the lamp off and walk out of the house. \n\nAs I drive into the side of town where pawn stores exist, I lock the doors and obey the traffic laws. \nI find a pawn shop two blocks from a police station and get out of my car, immediately locking the doors.\n\nThe guy working is much like any pawn store employee working at 11:30 at night. He's balding, has a blank expression, and the personality of a wet rag. When I ask him how he's doing he replies with a long stare and a grunt. \n\n\"I'd like to pawn something\"\n\n\"Mhhm\"\n\nI carefully place the beads on the counter, careful not to damage them in anyway. The employee picks the beads up, looks through them and something odd happens. He cracks a smile. The smile quickly evolves into a chuckle. Suddenly he's laughing hysterically, and it dawns on me that he's most likely either high or sleep deprived, or both. \n\nThen, out of the blue the laughing stops. \n\n\"Do you know what this is boyuh?\"\n\n\"A string of glass beads?\"\n\n\"You know what kind of beads they is?\"\n\n\"The kind you wear?\"\n\nThis spurred two further minutes of laughing from the employee.\n\n\"Dem is the kind of beads you wear alright. You wear em in yo asshole\"\n\nIt took a moment for me to realize what he was saying. I put the taint beads in my pocket and left, never to return to that pawn store again.\n\nThree days later, Grandpa Dennis would be brought to a nursing home to live out the rest of his days. Jazmine would get $100 from him on the day we moved him in. As everyone was leaving that day, I was amongst the last to leave. I was walking out of the door, when I heard him call my name faintly. \n\n\"Break the beads now.\", he said, barely even conscious, it seemed. \n\n\"Are you sure Grandpa?\"\n\n\"YES YOU PANSY! DO WHAT I SAY!\"\n\nA bit agitated, I took the beads from my pocket, and threw them to the ground.\n\nThey shattered, and glass shards flew everywhere.\n\n\"And now no one will ever know\", he murmured, and passed out. \n\nI still don't know what those words mean, or even more relevant, why Grandpa Dennis gave me old Thunder beads for my birthday, but what I do know is that they give him some really awesome prescription pills that no one seems to keep track of. \n\nSo I guess sometimes life just kind of works out.\n\n\n\n" ]	2
	[WP] You go back in time to save Jesus	[ "Jesus lay his robes down besides him, it had been a long day. He sighed as he relaxed the muscles in his shoulder. The smell of lavender and a freshly drawn hot bath wafted from the next room. Jesus was looking forward to relaxing in the soothing hot water. \n\n\"Whoa Jesus, watch your step\" A voice rang out suddenly. \n\nJesus spun around, where once there was nothing stood the silhouette of a man, a brilliant bright light shown behind him. \n\n\"What is the meaning of this? Who are you?\" demanded Jesus. \n\n\"Don't worry about that, I just didn't want you to trip\" The silhouette pointed to the floor where one of Jesus's sandals lay on the floor. \n\n\"Oh...uh....thank you?\" \n\n\"Don't mention it. Enjoy your bath.\" The light grew brighter as it enveloped the figure. Then in a flash, the light and the man was gone. ", "Day one: Today is the day. Everyone has dreamed of going back in time, killing Hitler, and preventing the Holocaust. How can people be so shortsighted? It is frustrating working with these fools who cannot see the true glory and brilliance of my mind. Nevermind that, soon they will live in a world that is crafted by the genius and ambition of your's truly. \n\nDay 15: Every attempt I make to go back to the time of the Crucifixion is blocked by some force. My methods to travel back in time works to go to any time besides 32 AD. I had some time to spare today, so I went and killed Hitler like everyone's been bugging me to.\n\nDay 40: God won't let me do this. I'm not sure why, I'm trying to save his son! I'm afraid to go to bed because of the dreams. They're not nightmares, they are dreams of beauty. This is deterring me from my work. I'm convinced it is the work of God. I need to prevent myself from sleeping somehow. Caffeine pills?\n\nDay 45: Today I managed to travel back in time to 32 AD, but much to my dismay, I was stuck on a coast. While I was trying to figure out how to get out of there, a message in the sand appeared. It said, \"Give it up - God.\" I dropped to my knees. Why was God doing this to me? I don't know. Maybe its another hallucination? You would have never believed it would happen to a being like me, but maybe its the stress? Must get prescription for Xanax\n" ]	2
	[WP] What fathers teach their children	[ "I do not know what fathers teach children. I only know what I taught my son.\n\nBridget was fifteen when we made mistakes in the back of her car. We didn't think about the consequences of ten minutes. How could a lifetime be formed in the arch of a limb? Fuck the man. Fuck it all. Fuck our futures. \n\nI taught my son denial. \"You tell anyone and I will lie.\" We didn't have access to paternity tests, not when our parents wanted only respectability and silence. I left Bridget to deal with small town politics. I was 18. I was an adult. I walked out, knowing she would never tell them who I was. \n\nI will admit I forgot about them. I clenched my eyes shut and wished them away. I thought happy thoughts. \n\nI met Melinda and we were so happy together. At 21 I married her in a small church down in Dawson, Arizona. Pretty little white building, dating back to the 1800s. \n\nWe had two kids. \n\nWe grew them like trees in a forest. I didn't think about Bridget until almost a decade later, when I got the letter in the mail. Meet me at Harrison Diner, we need to talk. \n\nI ignored her. \n\nShe never wrote me again.\n\nIt would be twenty years later that Cory walked into my office, slammed the letter on my desk and walked out. \n\nI never opened it. \n\nMy wife did. \n\nShe told me what it said. She read it to me. Then she burned it. We never spoke of it again. We had raised such bright and shining children. She understood what I had done. She even accepted it. \n\nBut in the end, I knew two things. \n\n1. Bridget had found love and acceptance without me. Cory never knew I was his father until she passed away. \n\n2. I taught my son one important lesson. Liars prosper.", "Don't cry \nHe was so disappointed in me. I'd been in another fight at school and came home with cuts and scrapes, my dirty face tracked with clean furrows of tears. \n\"Don't cry,\" he sighed, \"boys don't cry.\" \nI tried to do as he said, but I was not strong like him; events conspired to make me smaller, weaker, more fragile than my peers. Target my face seemed to whisper to bullies and teachers alike. Life at school was misery. \nBut over time, the tears slowly dried up. Layers of emotional scar-tissue bound my feelings, locking them inside my breast where they beat and fluttered like caged butterflies, growing weaker as the bars grew thicker and the cage grew darker. \nIt was time for my next lesson from my father.\n\n&nbsp; \nDon't be a poofter \nMy emotions might have been in check, but no matter how one tries to mask it, being sensitive leaves an indelible mark on the soul. Even after that first kiss with a girl, the rumours still swirled at my heels like a growing dust-devil. \n\"Don't be such a faggot,\" dad had told me, \"stop acting like a poof.\" \nSo away went the books. The drawings were no more. \nFootball became my second skin; wrapped around me protectively like armour - my team shirt a blazon of my heteromasculinity, a challenge to any who doubted. Two more girlfriends and a drinking habit later, my father offered me a gift; \n\"You're alright boy. You're alright.\" \nThose words - which I'd waited so long to hear. \nThey rang hollow, worthless. \nThis wasn't who I wanted to be. \n\n&nbsp; \n\"You ain't my son anymore.\" \nSaid my father, then the line went dead. \nTears flooded my vision and I blinked them away angrily, but they wouldn't stop - the floodgates had opened. \nSitting on the floor of the lounge in barracks, I wept uncontrollably; the words had finally left my mouth, after so many years of hiding, waiting for a good time to tell him. \n\"I'm gay dad - and I'm leaving the army.\" \nIn that peculiar macho way, my fellow soldiers gave me my space, let me cry without interfering. Most of them knew, without a doubt. The lengths that my boyfriend and I went to hide our relationship had grown shorter and shorter. We barely bothered now. \nThe words freed me though - his words, not mine. With that final rejection came peace, the knowledge that no longer could he be disappointed in future failures - this was the lowest of the low. \n\n&nbsp; \nHe's dead because of you \nThe chapel has few enough people in it. Dad had been a private man; it was my stepmother's friends and family, mostly. \nThey claimed his heart had been broken the day I came out; that he was never the same. He ate less, drank more and grew to despise my stepmother. \nThe air was thick and bitter with blame, but I sat there, holding hands with my lover, eyes resolutely forward and ignoring their hate. This was not our fault. Our love was not something that could create death; only rejection, bitterness and hatred could brew something so diabolic. \n\"He is not dead because of me,\" I told them, \"he died by his own hand, in the miserable world of his own making.\" \nAnd with that final word, we left the funeral. " ]	2
Example: Bow + Arrow	[WP]Everyone is born with a tattoo, your soul-mate has a thematically matching tattoo.	[ "Some people wear their heart on their sleeve.\n\nI wear mine on my face. \n\nIt's a trout. \n\nNot a koi or even a clown fish or something bright and colorful with fins artfully swirling around the corner of my eyes like some kind of eyeshadow on steroids. \n\nNo. \n\nA trout. \n\nPeople made fun of me when I was in middle school. Most of the cool kids had birds or celtic looking knots and the real bad-asses had tattoos you couldn't see at all. They're hearts were hidden out of view, so you were never sure who they were. Maybe they were yours. \n\nIt made them easy to fall for. \n\nThere was this one girl. \n\nSam. She was in my math class and sucked at calculus. But when you're in highschool and as beautiful as she was that doesn't really matter. Long, straight red hair and unreadable brown eyes. She'd do this thing with her pencil. Take it between her lips. And of course her tattoo was hidden. \n\nJeremey said it was between her tits and a pretty little rose. But I never believed him. I gave up on ever knowing. I figured those kind of people weren't worth my time, and they were certainly sure I wasn't worth theirs. So I never even bothered talking to her.\n\nAs I got older I realized what a blessing having a fish on my face was. There weren't many other troutians like me. It made finding someone easy. I didn't have to wade through the endless whirli-gig of dating that the butterflies and their flowers did. \n\nI knew I was looking for a very specific tattoo of a northern montana river. Preferably at fall. \n\nIf I didn't find it at some crummy sports bar. Well there was always tomorrow. It's not like I'd have to work for it. \n\nI mean. Come on. I've got a trout on my face. She'll know. \n\nExcept she didn't know. \n\nThe moths found their flames, the bows their arrows, the pens their ink. \n\nBut me.\n\nTrout-face.\n\nStill alone. \n\nI had spent all my formative years suffering, sure that it would be okay. Because being unique and anti-social has it's eventual pay-off when you find that unique and anti-social person just like you. When you find your cold-water Montana river at fly-season. \n\nI was spouting all of this, very drunkenly at the bar when she found me. Sam. \n\nShe was only slightly less hot then I remembered her. A few wrinkles on the corner of her mouth like ripped paper. Hair more brown then red. The old color must have come from a bottle. \n\nBut the more I look at her. \n\nThe more I realize that I like her better this way. \n\nI try to say this, but it comes out, \"Rember me you're still beautiful.\" \n\nShe turns to me, and barely offers a raised eyebrow before retreating into her gin and tonic. \n\nBut as she does I notice her shirt is riding up, exposing the edge of her midriff. \n\nSnaking along it is a river through a canyon. \n\nI almost swallow my straw. \n\nMontana. \n\nIt's then I realize that when you're a fish. \n\nSometimes you gotta swim upstream. \n\n\n\n\n\n\n", "Finding your soulmate seemed easy when you first learn about it, but then you realise its a little more complicated than that. Some people get lucky when she spotted hers on the back of a Mongolian Sumo wrestler while she was visiting Japan. Her three pronged spear-like tattoo fit like the piece of a puzzle in the negative space of Hirozune’s blot. That’s how these things worked. The girls have the piece, boys need to fill it in. Everyone’s is unique, but with 7 billion people on the planet, finding your soulmate requires a little bit of searching. The internet is a great resource and there are many services available to help people find their better half. \n\tOne thing was guaranteed: if you found your soulmate, then age, sex, race, or physical appearance matters little to none. These are the people who fulfill everything you are and need to be, and you will live in bliss and happiness forever. For some it may take a couple of years, but normally everyone finds their soulmate before hitting 30. Everyone finds theirs before 40. I did. \n\tThen there’s Leana. Leana is 92 years old, and despite our best efforts, her soulmate could not be found. Sometimes soulmates die before they meet, but advanced technology has made it possible to locate who your soulmate was after death, and even simply visiting their grave a connection is made. Not Leana. She’s been alone since birth. The world watched as she grew older, walking alone, eating alone, barely speaking unless she needed to. My husband and I had become her caretakers, but not by choice. No one wanted the job, as it was assumed that someone who had not found their soulmate would be like a weight of sadness on a perfect match. However, James and I never felt that of her. He was always watering his flowers, reading, appreciating the little things. In fact, she seemed happier than we were. \n\tScientists had studied her. Endless research was conducted. Yet, out of everyone else on the planet, Leana said she was the most content than any of us could ever be. The community dismissed her as simply senile and crazy. \n\tOne day, as we helped Leana out to the front yard so that she could feed the birds as she always liked to do, she suddenly said that she felt ill. Her knees buckled and she collapsed onto her back. James was about to call an ambulance when Leana reached up and said: “Don’t worry James. It’s my time. Isn’t the sky beautiful today? Take a good long look…” As her eyes shut she left this world with a smile, glowing. I looked up. it was that mystical time between the night and day. On the horizon the sun was in a total solar eclipse, a wondrous ring of light filling the sky. A perfect ring of light. \n\t\t", "First time trying [WP] so yeah, here goes;\n\nEveryone thinks the tattoos are such a wonderful thing, if you're lucky you can realize your soul mate at a glance, at anywhere and any time, and because it such a convenient thing most people can't even imagine what dating and finding somebody would be like without it... but I can, because my tattoo is practically a shackle rather then a blessing. If I had no tattoo at all then at the very least I'd be able to pick my own partner, my own soul mate, but because I have a tattoo that doesn't even make sense I am rejected. My tattoo is a squiggly line running down my chest and over my stomach, it has no meaning and it looks like nothing and so I have nobody. But even so, I won't give up, I'll find somebody to be my soul mate. Maybe the party today will be my lucky day, I won't know until I try...\n\nMy head is spinning, so many rejections and too many drinks, it seems like there's not even a single person here willing to try going out with somebody who doesn't match. I think I'll sit down before I fall down.\n\nand while stumbling over to a chair that when it happened, I found somebody who'd be my soul mate, I'd tripped and they caught me, with soft hands and kind eyes they led me to a seat and sat with me and I felt blessed. Every word they said was mesmerizing and every smile they made would be perfect. We talked and talked and everything was great, so that's when I decided to go for all or nothing, I asked \"So what's your tattoo?\". But they gave a wry smile and said \"Not telling, why don't you find it and see for yourself\" and with a gentle tug I was led to a bedroom and I finally felt blessed, I'd finally met another person who'd pick their own destiny. So we were all over each other, hands grabbing clothes, tongues intertwining, heavy breaths and then they playfully pushed me over onto the bed and softly ran their hand up my exposed chest, and that's when I realized.\n\nOn the wrist of the hand so playfully rubbing my chest was a tattoo, a tattoo of a dagger, its tip covered in blood, as it hovered over my heart... and from my heart came a single stream of blood from the knife that pierced it. They were a hunter with blade hidden in hand and their prey was my heart, to be pierced at their leisure.\n\n/Afterthoughts/\nDoing WP's is a lot harder then I thought it'd be, but this was fun. Also about 70%way through I'd noticed that there was no gender associated with any characters so it could be a lonely man or a lonely woman and I decided that if possible I'd keep it gender natural so it can be experienced by both genders in whatever manner pleases them. I'd say I did at least okay for my first WP." ]	3
	[WP] The reanimated corpses of dead poets and authors unite to stop a high school student from turning in the worst essay of all time.	[ "\"Oh. My. God. What is this tripe?\" Philip demanded. \"I must be insane. No. No. I get what happened here, already. You. Toga. Did you do this? Because you would be the one.\"\n\nPlato, intimidated, shrugged with his eyes wide at the accusation.\n\nPaula was shocked. A veritable pantheon of authorship was in her bedroom.\n\n\"Alright, kid,\" Philip began, \"This is the deal. Once in a while, something is so bad, a single emissary from the afterlife descends upon the creator to prevent it from entering the collective human consciousness.\"\n\nPaula found her words. \"I. What? What? I..\"\n\nMiguel laughed uproariously. \"Dios mio. No tiene las palabras. No hay palabras..\" he joked hitting Edgar with the back of his palm. Edgar retreated further inward, his gaunt features evoking even more sadness.\n\n\"A single emissary?\" Paula asked. \"But there are so many of you here.\"\n\n\"That's what we're getting at,\" said Louisa. \"This essay of yours is so bad--\"\n\n\"--it offends nature. Truly, it is beyond help. Never write again.\"\n\nA thick awkwardness filled the room as everyone stared at the interrupter.\n\nTupac broke the silence. \"Shiki's right. This shit is the dumbest fuckin shit anyone has ever read. That's why we're all squadded up tonight. This is the first time a situation has called for that. Never publish. The consequences would be astronomically bad. Don't do it, Paula.\" He exited the room as the others faded away one by one.\n\nI'll show them, she thought. Maybe it's just my essay writing. I'll become the greatest poet ever, then if not the greatest essayist. Or my name isn't Paula Nancy Millstone Jennings.", "\"Son,\" said Ernest Hemingway while swirling three finger's worth of whiskey in a dirty glass, \"just what in the hell do you think you're doing?\"\n\nSilence hung in the air. A fan turned overhead. A clock ticked on the wall. And still the author of the essay, sixteen-year-old Brian Jennings, was silent.\n\n\"Exactly,\" said Hemingway. \"You're not thinking.\" He downed his drink and glowered at Brian.\n\n\"I...\" said the young author.\n\n\"Shut it. You haven't earned the right to speak yet. Let's have a look at your essay, shall we?\" He picked up a stack of paper and looked at it. \"Hmmm. Here's your first sentence: 'The author's intent was very clear.' Well there's your first problem. What is the author's intent?\"\n\n\"Um...\"\n\n\"My point exactly. And what the hell is up with 'very'? 'Very clear.' What the hell does that even mean?\"\n\n\"Uh...\"\n\n\"Shut up. Very, very, really, very much, extremely (seriously?), very very very, another really, quite (who the hell uses quite? Are you the Queen?), two more reallys, and we haven't even left the first page. Do you see the problem here?\"\n\n\"Yes.\"\n\n\"Obviously not. Because this shit continues on the next page. Very, another extremely, overmuch (what in the hell?), two more verys, overly, -ly, -ly, -ly, and another -ly. And while we have not yet established what the author's intent was, we have established that your intent in writing this essay was to pelt the reader with adverbs until he became convinced that he had read something profound.\"\n\nBrian hung his head in shame.\n\n\"Oh, don't give me that. You have not earned the right to get pissy with me. Shall we discuss some of the similes that you decided to grace your essay with? 'Like a ton of bricks.' 'As clear as a sunny day.' 'As bold as a lion.' You know, I knew an author who wrote like this once. His name was Trigorin. He, like you, was obsessed with polluting his novels with hamfisted similes. 'A summer's evening, where the air hung as thick as a heliotrope...' Do you even know what a heliotrope is?\"\n\nBrian shook his head.\n\n\"Exactly. Nobody knows what a heliotrope is. And if they don't know what it is, the simile is useless. Do you know what they said about Trigorin?\"\n\nBrian shook his head again.\n\n\"Right. Because they said nothing at all. Because he too covered his intent so deeply in similes and adverbs that it simply ceased to exist. And without intent, what should be a captivating story becomes nothing more than a pretty landscape.\"\n\n\"I can attest to that,\" said another voice, steeped in a Southern drawl. Brian turned around and saw that Tennessee Williams had appeared in his bedroom.\n\n\"You don't mind if I unbutton my shirt, do you?\" asked Williams. \"It's just so goddamned hot in here.\"\n\n\"How good of you to join us, Williams,\" said Hemingway. \"We were just going over young Jennings' essay here.\"\n\nOnce Williams had finished unbuttoning his shirt, he picked up the essay and paged through it. He nodded gravely. \"Have you spoken with young Jennings about his propensity for adverbs?\"\n\n\"We just finished discussing that, yes.\"\n\n\"Mm. Just out of curiosity, young master Jennings, what was the story that have attempted to analyze here?\"\n\n\"Um, Our Town.\"\n\n\"Ah, yes, one of my bright particular favorites. Now, Thornton Wilder had a point to make in creating that story, right?\"\n\n\"Yes,\" said Brian.\n\n\"And what do you suppose the point of that story is?\"\n\nBrian furrowed his brow in thought.\n\n\"Promising,\" said Williams. \"Let's start here: What happens?\"\n\n\"Uh, well,\" said Brian, \"not much. It's just sort of these people going about their lives, and then Emily dies at the end.\"\n\n\"Now I want you to think about what you just said, master Jennings, because I think you're on to something. As you so skillfully put it, these people are just going about their lives. Why would Wilder write a story as simple as that?\"\n\nBrian sunk himself in thought again.\n\n\"Master Hemingway, do you have any input?\" asked Williams.\n\n\"All I'm gonna say is that it's staring you right in the goddamned face, kid,\" said Hemingway.\n\nBrian's face lit up. \"Oh. OH! Now I get it!\"\n\nWilliams nodded. \"Are you sure?\"\n\n\"Yes! It's so easy, God, I must be so stupid--\"\n\n\"Now don't say that,\" said Williams. \"I'm going to let you in on a remarkable secret. Do you know the history of the word essay?\"\n\n\"No.\"\n\n\"You see, the word essay is descended from the the French word essayer, 'to try'. And in your first essay, you tried. You failed. So get up and try again.\"\n\n\"I will! Thank you so much, you two!\"\n\n\"Our pleasure,\" said Williams. \"I think our work here is done.\" And with that, he vanished.\n\nHemingway looked at Brian one last time.\n\n\"One more adverb out of you, and I'll come back and slap the shit out of you,\" he said. He too vanished.\n\nBrian was alone. The fan still turned. The clock still ticked. \n\nBrian began to write.\n" ]	2
	[WP] This is the story of how I got shot...	[ "Owen di la Martyn winced as the jailer opened the door to his cell, the beam of light spilling out on the floor and opposite wall directly into his flint grey eyes. The Ryn was filthy, his shoulder length blond hair tangled and unruly. His clothes were stained with with sweat and dirt and blood, his shoes falling apart at the seams of the battered leather soles. \n\n\"Come, it is time.\" The man said with his Khadoran accent thick as borscht. \n\nOwen didn't argue. He was too tired to. The Llaelese man tried to remember how long it'd been since they caught him in a ambush. Weeks? Months? He couldn't tell, not when imprisoned in a windowless room and subjected to various tortures when they removed him from the cell. Owen himself was surprised at the seemingly infinite uses cold and ice possessed to torment someone. Being soaked to the bone in freezing water till hypothermia set in he'd expected, but he didn't expect to have to endure needle size icicles being thrust under his fingernails. The worst part was the medicos' skill at healing the damage done on his body. Frostbite was no stranger to them, and they were skilled enough to invoke prayers to heal his wounds. Blackened digits and broken bones could be healed with ease, just in time for the next day's session of questioning. At least this time he wouldn't be put back into the cell.\n\nFour guards were waiting for him to exit the cell, and they quickly and efficiently cuffed his hands to his ankles, leading him down the dimly lit hallway in a overbearing air. There were no other prisoners on this level, only numerous checkpoints and gates. Guttural Khadoran accompanied the exchanges of questions and answers, the guardsmen double checking each part of the process. Owen di la Martyn allowed a slight annoyed expression to cross his face.\n\n\"Come on.\" He muttered in his native Llaelese. \"I haven't got all day...\"\n\nThe various jailers glanced at their charge before smiling grimly amongst themselves.\n\n\"Protocol you see.\" A sergeant said before ushering them onward. \"I hope your stay with us was a pleasant one. Please recommend us to your family and business partners.\"\n\nMartyn smiled humoressly.\n\n\"Aha, ahaha, go fuck yourself.\"\n\nThe escort continued on until they climbed a series of steps, taking the beaten stone stairs carefully before coming to open air.\n\nMartyn gasped as the clean warm air hit his lungs for the first time in months. The sun was terribly bright, springtime it was he thought. Waiting for him were many people dressed in somber colors or else the red and yellow of Khador. A dozen or so were upper Khadoran civilians in charge of the occupation, paper pushers and other functionaries. Two soldiers in Man O' War armor stood to either side of the only other entrance, their annhilator blades crossed across the thick iron gate. Five Winter Guardsmen stood with rifles ready, a beautifully deadly woman in front of them. She smiled at the sight of Martyn, that same look that she gave every time she interrogated him.\n\nMartyn's eyes slid away from her gaze and landed on the wooden pillar sunk into the ground of the yard, a pocked mark brick wall behind it. A priest of Morrow waited besides it, garbed in the vestments of his faith.\n\n\"The earth is still frozen right now.\" One of the guards said.\n\nMartyn shrugged, letting any fear wash over him.\n\n\"I don't suppose you could lend me a fur coat then?\" \n\n ", "\"Jesus H Christ Private Snuffy, WATCH were you point your WEAPON\" \n\nThe FNG that SGT Rock had just yelled at is going kill somebody if he doesn't get a friggin GRIP.\n\nOur squad had been inserted into MogaBlessYou and was in the process of heading to objective Alpha. We had been marching through the jungle for hours and the only thing we had seen were hordes of mosquitoes and the surrounding jungle.\n\n\"Private SNUFFY\" the Sergeant yelled \"WHY THE HELL is your weapon not on SAFE? WHY is there a ROUND in your chamber?\"\n\n\"Oh hell\" I think to myself.\n\nIf any of you don't know, some Freaking New Guys just have to be Rambo. A round has to be in the chamber, the weapon cannot be on safe, and his finger simply MUST be on the trigger.\n\nPrivate Joe Snuffy was just such a Rambo.\n\nAn hour later, we reached the edge of the tree line where an old dirt road cut through the jungle. \n\nThe point raised a clenched fist as a signal to halt in place and I raised mine to pass it back.\n\nI looked back to ensure Snuffy had seen my signal and passed it back.\n\nHe did.\n\nI dropped to my belly and crawled to the edge of the forest and looked across and down both directions of the road. It was clear.\n\nI slapped Booger, the point man, on the back to signal that I was ready to cross as he needed to cover me.\n\nI looked back and waved to Snuffy to come forward.\n\nI rolled to Booger's right and was on my feet in seconds, shooting across the road like I had been fired from a gun.\n\nI got about halfway across the road when I heard Snuffy trip behind me.\n\nI heard the the sound of rifle fire and suddenly my ass felt like it had caught fire and was burning.\n\nThat dumb son of a bitch had tripped, fallen, and when he had hit the ground, he squeezed the trigger and shot me in my ass.\n\nThey had to medevac me out. " ]	2
	[WP] You find yourself (or the protagonist) floating in space, above a planet that covers half your view and in your advanced spacesuit that's slowly loosing energy.	[ "\"Ejected. There is no worse feeling then being ejected. From your happily going relationship. The will of your mother and father. From the people you put your faith and trust in. There is no worse feeling then being ejected.\" The thoughts blasting through his mind as he monitored his suit, slowly losing the all ready low power. \"At least the view is nice.\" He mused with a sigh. Sure, he was half blind, but what he could see was amazing. A dazzling array of colors swilring in the dying suns light. Only possible because of his suit. Made it easier to verify this with color rather then the dull black and white, but in this moment it was just another timer slowly counting down for him. Each second the colors growing dimmer, \n\n\"Gonna get them back good when I can. Gonna show then was is like to be ejected without a suit.\" Trying to change his position without using a lot of power. \"Tell me that the research is too valuable to be destroyed. Tell me that if I follow through with them, they'll kill me. They'll kill everyone but me if they get back to the station.\" Cutting off air circulation to his arm as he started undoing the valves. A gentle push in the opposite direction as it escaped, floating off with the arm piece. Colors were rapidly fading now, he'd have to be quick if he had any hope of seeing this through and working. \"Perhaps I shouldn't do this. I don't know if this is Even going to work. Even if it does, I'll be in no better position now then if they get back. This is the only way I can get there first.\" Gently taking a vial from a compartment on his chest, a bright yellow mass of writing tentacles inside. A specimen that he'd found in his last escapade. It was different from the others, giving more benefits without terrible side effects like the others. \"I haven't come this far just to be thrown to the side like all the other times. Not again. Never again.\" Giving the vial a gentle squeeze as a needle and plunger formed from it. \"Won't matter after this though. Live or die, it won't be the same me coming for them.\" Grunting as he injected the mass, yellow vines slowly growing from the injection sight. \"I..I Just need to wake up again. Wake up. ..in. ..a..nice. ..warm.\" His thoughts talking of as he loses consciousness, body slowly floating towards the swirling planet of dark colors. \n\n\"Hurts so bad.\" His only thoughts as bright lights bounced around his closed eyes. He could see people moving around. See their hearts and smell their fear. Slowly opening his eyes, the vision slowly went away, but the smell lingered. It was thick in the air. The lights were sun light getting through the dense foliage, flickering as the canopy moved in the breeze. Around him primitive people seemed to have gathered around. Curiously gathering closer and then making a hasty retreat as he sat up. He shook his head, still throbbing from the impact. \"So green, why is everything so green?\" He thought looking around at the people gathered. They were green it seemed, nearly blended in if it was a thin yellow band on their heads. \"They look so familiar. Not that bad either.\" He thought as it slowly dawned on him. The way they walked, the scars on their chest. He knew where they were. Only because they were his. Slowly getting to his feet, he looked to his arm. Normal, save the throbbing under his stomach. Quickly detaching the lower piece, he stagers back as he looks down. A throbbing mass of colors made his skin. Gently poking it, it felt completely normal. \"It worked.\" He thought as he looked around, realizing slowly what happened. He was never going to be ejected again. ", "I was always told that in the event of being set adrift in space, I should stay calm. My hardsuit has enough oxygen for a day, and it'll automatically broadcast my position. I just need to wait for a skiff to come and pick me up.\n\nUnfortunately, that was during a routine mission. Being attacked by pirates isn't exactly routine, and no one was going to pick me up. They were probably too busy being held at gunpoint.\n\nI had a pretty clear view of what happened. I was on the hull, repairing a small breach from some unknown debris that hit us as we came out of warp. We couldn't activate the Johnson drive until it was patched up. And as I was working on getting it fixed, we were hit by a chariot.\n\nA chariot is a cross between a landing craft and ballistic round. It's heavily shielded, and fired from a magnetic coil at another ship. Once it lands, it locks onto the hull and deploys anti-personnel turrets while the crew breaches into the ship and starts their operations, usually demolition or anti-AI procedures. It just so happened that the chariot landed close enough to me that the force disengaged my mag boots and threw me clear hard enough to snap my safety line.\n\nWhich is why I am now in what appears to be a rapidly deteriorating orbit around a gas giant. Since we're in uncharted space, I've decided to name it Timothy. Hello, Timothy.\n\nTimothy is a very deep and dark red, pretty uniform across the entire surface. I can see lightning strikes in the clouds. There's one moon orbiting Timothy. It's oddly luminescent, considering the system's star is 3 or 4 astronomical units away. It's a massive red giant, not as bright as Sol.\n\nMy emergency alert starts to flash in my HUD. Turns out there's a breach in my suit. I'm leaking oxygen. Oh well.\n\nBack to Timothy. I can see space debris from the short battle falling down and burning in the atmosphere. Does that mean Timothy has enough oxygen for a fire? I can't remember how the physics for it works. I know it means there's a decently thick atmosphere. Considering how large Timothy is, it's probably a very high pressure atmosphere. When I fall down there, if I don't burn to a cinder on my way down, I'm going to be compressed to the size of golf ball. There's a fun thought.\n\nSomething collides with my shoulder, spinning me around. I panic and try to get it off of me, but it's latched on. I spin to face it, only to find Jerome, wearing a safety harness, attached to a skiff. Becca is waving at me from the pilot's viewport.\n\nJerome says something, but I can't hear him. My comms must have been shorted. He pulls my visor into his, until they connect.\n\n\"You ok, man?\" I can hear him talk. \n\n\"My comms are out. My hardsuit's damaged. How are you guys out here?\"\n\n\"The pirates only wanted our cargo. They took the water storage, and a most of the food. We're making an emergency jump to Sirius Major. There's a supply station there.\" He turns to Becca, signalling a damaged comm, and she nods. The line starts to pull us in.\n\n\"So, merciful pirates. That's a first.\"\n\n\"Hey, if you get a break, don't question it, right?\"\n\n\"Whatever. Just get me out of here before Timothy eats us.\"" ]	2
A man manages to acquire almost everything he's ever sought after then after one evening and one decision, his life would take a turn for the worse. A ripple effect causes everything and everyone to slowly drift away. A wave of loss crashes over him. After the wave comes The Undertow. "Undertow" meaning: the sheer force of depression. Like a tar pit it claims you. Before you know it, you're lost.	[WP] Undertow	[ "Garen Tonnant swore as a blaster bolt flashed centimeters from his face, the baleful red glow briefly illuminating the narrow passageway the fringer took refuge in before burning into the durasteel wall behind him.\n\n\"Crast!\" shouted Garen, who then blind fired a half dozen shots from behind the cover of a doorway. He was rewarded with a grunt of pain and the sound of a lot of weight hitting the floor. But he had no time to dwell on that success, for just as quickly a torrent of blaster fire filled the hallway, scorching the rear wall a deadly black.\n\n\"Come on out, Tonnant and we'll promise to be quick about it. You have my word, just give up now and we won't torture you. Why prolong the inevitable?\"\n\nThe Pendari-born Human laughed from behind his cover.\n\n\"Dunno, Tarsk, why don't you tell me? Ancestors, man, you think I'm giving up now? How many of you are left, six, seven? I must've vaped five of your boys, Tarsk. I can easily go for the full dozen. Come on, I got plenty of time.\"\n\nA brief pause as both sides reloaded or else sought better positions.\n\n\"Listen up, Tonnant! If you don't come out with your hands in the air, we're flushing you out like the rat you are!\"\n\nGaren didn't believe they'd do that, not down here with him.\n\n\"Qilk, we're gonna wait behind the blast doors and turn on the pumps. Make sure he's dead.\" Garen heard Tarsk say. He also heard the reply in Quarren, a squid-like race from the planet Dac. The possessed the ability to breath underwater.\n\n\"Oh crud... Tarsk! Don't do this! Come on, pal. I'm sure we can work this out!\"\n\nGaren heard a laugh come from the mercenary leader, a deep and vengeful sound.\n\n\"Should've said that when you had the chance! Goodbye, Tonnant. Nice to have known you!\"\n\nTarsk and several others retreated, their Quarren ally laying down a withering hail of blaster fire to cover them. The blast doors shut with a terrible clang, and a few moments later floodgates began to open up, filthy brown water slowly pooling around his ankles.\n\n\"You're going to die, Human. I'm going to enjoy watching you plead for air.\"\n\nGaren snarled as the water reached mid-calf.\n\n\"Well sod you then, squid-head. If I'm going die, so are you.\"\n\nWith that he threw himself out of cover and towards his foe, heavy blaster ripping through the air. Six out of twelve ain't bad.", "A still hung in the air\n\n\nHe sat there and waited. Thinking. He once had it all; women, money, fancy cars, the whole nine yards. He had won it all on the market, and the market was only supposed to keep going up, right?\n\n\nOctober 29, 1929, read the calender date as he just sat there. Over thirty percent the market had fallen over the past two days. For ten years it had been building, just to do this? This is ridiculous he thought. He would wait it out.\n\n\nSo he sat \nAnd sat \nAnd sat.\n\n \nOver 24 hours he sat. Then, after closing on October 30, he decided he should go home. Driving the car he was now upside down on back home, he arrived at his house to find a note posted on the door in bold: The money ran out, so I ran out followed immediately by divorce papers. He pushed open the door, tears in his eyes, to see the one thing that would truly care about him, the one thing would never leave his side. There, on the floor, lay his dog of 17 years, dead.\n\n\nHe pulled a rope out from the garage and never looked back.\n\n\nA still hung in the air. " ]	2
	[WP] You are successfully able to program the brain. You decide to increase the speed it operates, "slowing" time.	[ "I looked at the clock. 2am Holy cow it's been 2 for hours now! \nI had stocked everything possible to stock in the west wing of the ER to try to speed up the time but ever since that damned update claiming it would \"Add hours to your day!\", I had way too much time on my hands. there had been word that the biological code had been modified to increase our thinking speed but something seemed off. I got the update 2 days ago and as much as I like having all the extra time, I hate staying at work for what seems like eternity. i ventured back into the east wing and noticed many people sitting on the phone. I hadn't seen many people that day other than the outrageous traffic i had mustered through to get here... \n\"Hey Krissy !\" i jovially bellowed. \nshe must have been giving report on a patient cause she didn't break eye contact with the screen.\nI was going to check to see if any patients needed vitals or bandaids. hell, I'd even take doing an enema right now over sitting around with my thumb up my ass. \nI plop down at the computer. \"They must be doing maintenance or something...\" i thought. the loading was taking abnormally longer than usual. I finally gave up waiting for it and decided to ask a patient directly if they needed a drink or for me to wipe their ass... SOMETHING! \nknock knock \"hey sir! I was just checking in to see if you needed any....\"\nhe was fast asleep. it was abnormally quiet. I peeked back outside at a nurse. staring blankly into her screen, i asked generally \"why is it so quiet?\"\n\nno answer \n\ni walked up and touched her shoulder. \n\nno response. \n\n\"what the hell amber??\"\n\nnothing.\n\nI looked around. everyone was still. come to think of it, people were moving abnormally slow this morning too. I looked at the clock. \n\nit must be dead.... it has to be...\n\ni look at another. nothing\n\nI looked at the computer clock. frozen. \n\n\"the update!\" i thought to myself. no one said it would be this much of an increase in speed! then I remembered signing the waiver. \"Not responsible for time dilation\"\n\nDamn", "It all started when someone asked the question, \"What if we could?\" As with most creations, what drove us to create was simply our quest for answering that question. What if we could? What would we see?\n\nThe science was difficult, to say the least. To put it into perspective, it was easier to slow down the frames per second to 450,000 than it was to slow it down to 450,001. Each additional frame we slowed down took twice as much time as the one prior. But, what if we could?\n\nWe weren't creating peace on earth, we weren't solving hunger. We were simply trying to quench our thirst for knowledge. We wanted to know... no, we needed to know what we would see if we could take a video of something that the human eye could simply not imagine. We wanted to see, light. It travels so fast that for most of human history, we thought it simply existed, and didn't fathom that it was actually travelling. You switch on a light switch in a room, and light exists all around you, instantaneously, in every corner and every knook. It wasn't until we started asking why, that we started learning more about Light. The Stars in the night sky appear to be shimmering right at us, existing simultaneously with us in this Universe of ours. But the truth is, their light took a very long time and traveled a very long distance to come to us. What we are essentially doing, is looking into the past.\n\nThose Stars are billions and trillions of miles away from us, and we can't even be sure if they exist anymore. But what if we could see light that surrounds us, the light that exists all around us? What does it look like? What is it doing? Those were the two questions we put most of our focus on. The questions we blatantly disregarded were, \"What would happen to the viewer?\" \"Are we meant to see it?\"\nIt was always going to be me to first see it. It was my idea, and it was my question. In hindsight, I should have told someone I was going to turn the Video Camera on. I should have told them that I was coming into the office at 2 in the morning on the day of the test and running it myself. I wanted to be the first one to see it, I needed to be the first one to see it. Hindsight is, as they say, 20/20.\nI'll always remember the first day after I ran the test. I guess I can't really call it a day, but I can't think of anything else to call it, so a 'day' it is. It's strange how long it took me to realize what happened. You never really know how still the world around you is, until it is completely and utterly still. Either that, or I never really knew how little attention I paid to my surroundings. I was also very disappointed and lost in my thoughts, so looking around and observing was the least of my priorities. The experiment had failed, I saw nothing through the Camera. Nothing happened. Nothing, except for the fact that the Camera stopped working after the first try. I thought I fried it. Thought.\n\nIt was at least a good four hours later when I first noticed something was different in the world. And what finally tipped me off, was the movement of a floating leaf; or rather, the lack there of. I was leaving my house to go face the wrath of my lab, and it floated a few feet from my front door. At first I thought it was caught in an updraft. Then I thought that it was hanging by some sort of string, maybe caught in a spider's web. I must have spent a good 15 minutes staring and observing the leaf in utter disbelieve. And than, finally, I started to look around, and realized the leaf wasn't a single occurrence. Nothing was moving, everything was completely frozen.\n\nOf course, months later, and after thorough research was when I found out that the world had not frozen around me, rather it was moving at a speed so slow that my eyes couldn't realize it. Everything was moving less than a millimetre each day. In technical terms, all of time in this Universe and everything in it had slowed down by a factor of 10^8 degree. Everything, that is, except me.\n\nOn the bright side, at least now I have more time. More time to do my research, more time to read and learn more. More time to do anything I want to. But it sure is lonely moving so exponentially fast that everything around you seems as it is frozen forever. I never even begin to think how lonely it is to be light. Maybe one day I'll be able to slow down and match the rest of the world in speed. But I really doubt it. But still, the question remains... What if I could?" ]	2
Limestone mines, catacombs, the metro, sewers, fire-escapes, rooves; the choices are endless.	[WP] Set a story under or above Paris at night.	[ "\"Jacques, you're digging your teeth into my crown. Stop it!\"\n\n\"Elise, why are you complaining? We've been squished in these walls for centuries and only now you complain?\"\n\n\"I only ever notice when you start shifting around. And it happens more often than you realize.\"\n\nSome of the other skulls piped in agreement with Elise, and Jacques submitted to their will.\n\nHe sighed. \"It's always so quiet down here.\"\n\n\"Less so, since the tourists started gaining access to our tunnels. But yes, on the whole it's been rather quiet.\"\n\nThey and the others allowed the melancholy silence to wash over them; with it came the horrid memories of how their rest was defiled and how they were brutally forced into their current state, accompanied only by fading images of the blissful village lives from which they were torn away.\n\nAfter a time, Jacques broke the silence. He whispered, \"You still love me, yes?\"\n\nShe strained to shift her gaze upward and met his with sarcastic eye sockets. \"Not that I have a choice; I'm stuck with you forever.\"\n\n\"I take that as a begrudging 'yes.'\"\n\n\"Indeed, husband.\"\n\n\"Then I too still love you, mi amour. If we could leave here, I would take you all around the city tonight.\"\n\n\"Ugh, you're so cheesy. And it's always nighttime down here; what makes tonight so special?.\"\n\n\"Only the more reason to show you my love, darling.\"\n\nA prompt \"Get a room!\" was uttered, followed by a roar of assent.\n\nJacques retorted, \"We're in Paris, for crying out loud!\"\n\n\"Shhhh,\" said a skull farther down the tunnel. \"I can hear the tourists coming.\"\n\nThen silence fell over the trapped souls once more as they all keenly listened to the sounds of echoing footsteps. They were used to encountering researchers, photographers, and the increasingly frequent thrill-seekers. Each visitor had a unique step. Some were heavy with exhaustion; others seemed more tentative. The tenants of the catacombs could usually tell which kind of person would enter their halls just from that, but these footsteps had a different sort of distinctness to them. The skulls heard it before, but it was rare enough that they could not pinpoint precisely what it was.\n\nThe tourists' faces gave them the information they needed: the skulls could see a sort of remorse in the couples' eyes as they looked on from head to head. Instead of analyzing or hypothesizing about the past, these people seemed to be paying their respects. The inhabitants of the walls were deeply moved by the man and woman's sympathy. Such a sentiment was hardly found in the explorers of nights past. After the couple returned to the surface, a similar sort of somber stillness to the one before overcame them--but this time, for some reason, they were put at ease. It felt as though, if only for a few brief moments, the spirits could rest.\n\n\"Good night, Elise.\"\n\n\"Good night, my love.\"", "I like it here. The cold and damp comfort me, a lover's caress before a night of passion. The walls are stone but the dirt seeps through anyway. The dirt and the crawlers.\n\nI've started eating the latter, there's not much else to be had. The corpses are turned to bones, and juicy bits I want are locked away anyway. I had always wanted to eat a king.\n\nThe body I brought in with me is all but gone. I'm saving the last of her for later.\n\nThese catacombs are my home. The skulls my only friends. I sing to them, when the silence is too crushing. Funny, I've heard voices all my life yet down here they do not speak. \n\nAnother benefit of my home. \n\nThe first home I've ever really had.\n\nIn Paris I'm a freak. A loser. A psychopath. \n\nHere I am home. \n\nHere there is no night, or day.\n\nNo normal people or freaks. \n\nNothing but cannibals and corpses. \n" ]	2
	[WP] When you fall asleep in this world, you wake up in an alternate one, and vice versa. Over time you begin forget which is the dream and which is real.	[ "The smoke of night rose dimly, a faded thing in a bad place. There was gunfire some distance away and it cut through the dark and the empty. \n\nThe bunker was dry and dusty but it was enough, and Friedrich Adler found himself relaxing for the first time in a day. His face was dirty and unshaven, and his thick curled hair sweated into a wet mat below his helmet.\n\n\"Adler,\" said the soldier beside him, a young man barely old enough to shave - his name was Fritz, he supposed - looked beyond the bunker and saw nothing. \"We will rest here. There is no point waiting until morning. We are exhausted anyway.\"\n\nFriedrich nodded, and there was nothing more to say. He took his helmet off, and lay down, his head resting on his ruck. His eyes slipped and slipped. But before he could fall asleep, there were shouts from the others, and gunfire, and he felt his eyes sag with his tiredness, but he grabbed his rifle and looked ahead. \n\n\"Americans!\" shouted Fritz. \n\nFriedrich began shooting, the ringing in his ears stronger than ever, and he barely looked as he fired. There was some silence ahead.\n\n\"Did we get them?\" asked Friedrich. \n\nThere was nothing but a gentle gust of wind. Then suddenly - something in the dust below his feet.\n\n\"Grenade!\" shouted Fritz.\n\nFriedrich inhaled, and stood up, but the grenade exploded, filling his ears and his grey uniform with thick, warm blood, and the dust got in his eyes and seemed to enter his head, whirling. He looked around, drooling, and saw that Fritz was dead and in three pieces. He looked down - his legs severed, bone broken and he shouted. He bled and put his Luger to his head - despite the pain he could not pull the trigger. He was relieved, then, when an American soldier lurched over him and fired.\n\nThen he awoke to prodding at his shoulder. The sun shone brightly above and he spat on the ground. \n\n\"Up, soldiers,\" said the Unteroffizier in front of him. He rose and saluted. \"It seems the Americans are pushing back, and we must retreat - for now. We will meet at base until further orders are issued.\"\n\n\"Yes, sir!\"\n\nAnd they marched in the light of the French fields, and mud splattered on his boots. They marched and walked, and a tank rolled through from behind a farmhouse. A beautiful young woman looked at him from the house, but her eyes seethed and he could not stand her look. He and several other soldiers mounted the tank, sat at the rim. Friedrich felt as though he had barely slept, and his lids grew heavy and his mind grew groggy. \n\nThen there were cries of \"Bombers!\" and \"How did they get our position?\" And like wraiths from Hell, the sky was filled with American B-planes that zoomed close and began dropping death and reigned fire. He saw the Unteroffizier's head explode into many pieces, and he vomited onto the floor. The tank aimed, but it exploded, and Friedrich flew, and saw he left his bottom half behind him and he spat and gurgled blood and thought of Marie and\n\nHe awoke - another soldier clapped him on the shoulder and he gasped and looked. They had arrived at the base. \"You look awful. You should see a medic.\"\n\nFriedrich nodded. Not a bad idea. Once they had taken their stay, he walked over to the medic's tent - the beds were full of injured and the bald doctor walked back with a clipboard and he interrupted him. \n\n\"Doctor, I need some medical advice.\"\n\nThe doctor looked at him - Friedrich saw his eyes held bags almost as big as his own. \"Make it quick, young man. I am sorry, but I have many patients.\"\n\n\"I can't sleep, doctor - or rather I can - but I am plagued with horrible dreams. I am afraid to fall asleep - in them I die again and again.\"\n\nThe doctor shook his head and smiled warmly. \"Aren't we all?\"\n\nFriedrich said nothing and walked outside. Many of the soldiers were drinking and laughing, but he was in no mood. He walked over to a knotted wooden bridge and sat and looked at the flowing stream beneath. He thought of his parents, and his beloved Marie, and how it felt to make love to her, but even this did not grant him respite. He lit a cigarette. \n\nAnd then a shock of pain. He gurgled, and could not breath - an American had stuck his bayonet in his throat. The American laughed and said something in English and Friedrich died again.\n\nWhen he awoke, he was at the bunker. He looked around in horror. \"Please - Fritz - where are we?\"\n\nFritz blinked. \"Same place as before. You've dozed off for an hour now.\"\n\n\"No,\" he said, shivering. \"I dream that I die and I come back and I die and I come back! I just want it to end!\" he began shaking and screaming. The moon was full in the sky, and he looked at it and howled like a wolf. He panted like one, then, and...no...please...he was a German war hound, and he leaped forward onto the neck of an American and tasted his warm blood. He barked and ran, and felt a dash of pain on his side and keeled over and\n\nAwoke at the bunker again. He breathed deeply and held in a scream. Fritz was fast asleep. And then there were some minor cries, and all soldiers arose. He woke Fritz and stood and saluted. An Oberwachtmeister in a handsome grey slim uniform stood over his bunker and looked over at all the rank and file in the others. \n\n\"We will be mounting a surprise attack on the American forces. Gear up, and make your country proud. This day will be a victory.\"\n\nAnd they marched forward, and Friedrich felt a wave of comfort and warmth creep over him. He realized he no longer cared whether he lived or died. He realized that nothing mattered anymore, and that he was indestructible. He had died a half-dozen times, perhaps, and he may die more. But he marched on, into the dark night, as the smoke and the trees whirled above him, and the full moon, indifferent shone over him. Tears of relief streamed down his face and he felt like laughing.\n\nHe didn't care. God be thanked - he didn't care.", "Kir collapsed on his bed. Exhausted from studying the days and working the nights, he found himself glad to just finally be able to catch a moment's rest. As he drifted asleep, he found himself wondering whether he'd find the courage to ask that one girl from his philosophy class out.\n\n----------------------------\n\nKir opened his eyes, and found a strange woman sleeping next to her. He had never seen this woman before; yet he knew that the woman was supposed to be his wife. The bed was different too, as well as the entire bedroom. Pictures of people he had never seen hanged on the wall and expensive yet rather tasteless decorative items carefully placed on top of the expensive looking dresser. He got up, bewildered, and started exploring the house. \nThis was definitely NOT the same place he fell asleep in... Kir sat down in the living room. What had happened? Why do I know this place and that woman, when I have never been here before? Wh- \nHe was interrupted by a knock on the door. Still dazed, he walked to the door and opened it without thinking twice, his mind flooded with questions.\n\nHe was greeted by three masked figures, and only a moment after by a stinging feeling in his stomach. Kir glanced at his stomach, and saw the knife struck into his stomach, stuck there like a sapling of metal sprouting from his guts. Pushed to the ground, the sensation of pain filled his head as he begun to scream. He could only barely make out the sounds around him as his breathing became frantic and panic wrapped him in it's cold embrace.\n\n\"Grab all the valuables! And shut that bitch up!\" \nThe woman's screaming became more and more muffled with every strike by the men, until she was only whimpering on the floor as tears filled her eyes. The screaming began anew as the men started to tear her nightdress to shreds, and it was once again muffled just as quickly.\nKir could feel his consciousness slipping away as the darkness was setting in... The pain was too much for him to bear, and he became unconscious. Maybe it was him accepting his fate, and letting go in hopes of having the pain and fear end.\n\n---------------------------\n\nKir opened his eyes. The pain was gone, and no screaming could be heard. The hardwood floor had been replaced by the cold stone under him, and the house filled with expensive furniture had changed to a filthy bed, steel bars and stone walls.\n\nHe had woken up in a prison. He could see the flame of a torch, or a candle, flickering in the hallway. He yelled into the hallway, hoping that someone would come and tell him what the hell is going on, but he could hear no response. After an hour of futile screaming and trying to get out from his cell, Kir collapsed on the floor. Where am I? Who was the woman? Was I dreaming? Am I dreaming now? WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON? \n The questions raced through his mind, but nobody came to give him answers. There was nobody to be seen or heard, and his only company was the lonely flicker of the flame down the hallway and the occasional insect that crawled out of a small crevice in the walls, or from under the blanket of the disgusting excuse for a bed next to him. He sat around, waiting for something to happen. As hours passed and nothing happened, he found himself exhausted again, cleared the roaches from his bed, and laid down. \nMore time passed. Nobody came. He was given no answers... there was only silence. Slowly, Kir began to drift asleep once more.\n\n----------------------------------------\n\nHow many weeks has it been? Months? Or has any time passed at all? Kir had gone through dozens of different places and different experiences, none of them making any sense to him. Every time he awakens or regains his consciousness, he wakes up in a new place, as a new person. And none of it makes any sense to him.\n\nHave I lost my mind, he wondered. Did I die at some point, and now I am stuck in the limbo? In the end, all he had been able to do was speculate. Nobody that knew him and the world around him every time he woke up, could tell him the answers he sought for. They all just assumed he was still half- asleep, playing a prank or just nuts. He was so weary of doubting himself; Not knowing whats real and whats not... not even being sure what was real anymore. He was so tired of it. It was gnawing at him, it was like a parasite feeding on his mind, on his identity... on his sense of self. \n\nThis time, Kir had awoken in a dark apartment in a large city. Dirty and forgotten, the place had not been cleaned in months. There were bottles laid around all over the apartment on the floor and tables, as if Easter Bunnys alcoholistic cousin had paid a visit. \nOn the table next to them, there was a roll of american dollars and a bag of pills without a description.\nLeaning against one of the chairs around the table was a shotgun.\n\nKir leaned in and grabbed the firearm. He checked the chamber... yup, there's a shell there. \nI'm so tired... I have not been able to sleep at all. Every time I try, I just wake somewhere else. What is dream and what is reality? He knew no longer.\n\nKir placed the barrel of the shotgun in his mouth, and felt the metallic taste of the gun. And in the short moment just before he pulled the trigger, he felt calm for the first time in a long while." ]	2
They could be (to each other); Soulmates Enemies Strangers Family Rivals Crushes	[WP] Everyone on Earth wakes one day to find that they are able to telepathically communicate with one other person.	[ "My alarm goes off, and I do as I do every morning: snooze it. I don't want to get up from bed. I don't have much to get up to, anyways. I live alone, don't have a job, and not many friends either. I had a great friend before, but he died while we were still in high school. I still miss him, and feel lonely without him. I try to find a comfortable position and just doze for a while, keep my unkind reality away. My eyes close, and I'm slipping down into light sleep. \n\nAs I doze I get a weird feeling that someone is in my house, talking. Not to me, but just rambling to themselves. I can't make out the words, it's like a badly tuned radio. Is this a dream? If so, it's one of the weirdest I've ever had. There's no visual part to it, just the inaudible talking. I wake up and open my eyes, but the rambling voice is still there. A low buzz in the back of my head. \"What the fuck?\" I say out loud. This is starting to freak me out. I get out of bed and start looking around in my apartment, if someone has broken in while I was sleeping. \n\nAfter a quick search I find no signs of anything unusual, but the voice is still there! Now I can make out some words here and there, but they make no sense to me. I try to ignore it, and start getting ready for the day. While I shower, get dressed, and eat breakfast the voice trail in and out. Sometimes I can almost make out a whole sentence, but sometimes it's almost completely gone. At one point I thought it was talking directly to me, asking me who I was, which scared me. I felt my mind retreat from it, and then the voice died out. \n\nFuck, this can't be good. I've started hearing voices. For a while I have no idea what to do, but then I think of something. My psychologist. I have not seen him in a while, but he helped me through the death of my friend, and maybe he can help me through this. I find my wallet and my keys, and go outside to catch the next bus into town. \n\nIt's unusually quiet this morning. Normally there would be a lot of people at my bus stop, on their way to work. Today, however, there's just two others. They both look kind of unfocused, like they are thinking about something, or having a conversation. Suddenly, the man in the suit starts laughing. The woman next to us looks over at him, first confused, but then her eyes lights up in understanding.\n\"You can hear someone too, right?!\" she exclaims. The man stops laughing and looks embarrassed.\n\"What, hear someone? No, I just thought of a joke.\" Something in his eyes makes me not believe him. I turn to the woman and ask her:\n\"What do you mean? Like a small voice in your head, just talking?\" \n\"Yeah, I have heard it all morning, first just a murmur, but now I can talk to him. He's really nice!” \n“Really? It's another person you hear?” This sounds crazy, but the voice is still in my head, and maybe it does sound like someone thinking. \n“Yes, at first I was scared, but now it's pretty fun!” she gives me a big smile. The man turns back toward us and now he's more curious. \n“You really hear someone you too? I though I was the only one! Does your guy also say he's named Mark?” \nThe woman shakes her head.\n“No, my guy's Don.” \nThe bus interrupts us as it arrives, and we all climb aboard and find our separate seats. There are few passengers today, and nobody is talking to each other, just staring out in front of them. Possibly talking to their own voices. I stare out the window and concentrate on my voice. I can hear it pretty clearly now, it's thinking about the gas prices, and how many gallons it can fill for a 20 dollar bill. I try to think to it. \nAround here that would be just short of 5 gallons. \nThe voice disappears for a quick second, and then it's back. Much clearer than before. \nThere you are! I thought I heard someone earlier! \nYou can really hear me?\nYes, and I wondered how long it would take you to understand. This is pretty sweet, isn't it?\nWell, uh, I guess so. This might take some time getting used to, but it was pretty cool. Maybe I've found myself a new friend?\n[My first try at this, would love thoughts and feedback!]", "\"Jackass.\"\n\nI turned, looked around. It scared the shit out of me. I thought someone had made his way into my apartment.\n\n\"What the fuck?\" I thought to myself.\n\n\"Huh, what the..?\" the voice said, back again.\n\n\"What is happening?\" I queried aloud. I stood up from the table, looking all around, damn near flipping it and my breakfast right the fuck over.\n\nSilence. \n\n\"That was weird,\" continued the voice.\n\nMy head quickly darted over my shoulder. It sounded like someone was talking right into my ear. \n\n\"What the fuck is going on here?\" I thought to myself.\n\nThere was silence for a while again, but then:\n\n\"Someone must have put a speaker in my car, fucking 'prankster' roommates.\"\n\nI sat back down and tried to make sense of what the voice was saying. Car? Roommates? What the fuck was this intruder on about? I tried to explain it to myself aloud.\n\nSuddenly, a wave of expletives came from the mystery man. \n\n\"Fucking shithead Tony. Making me park my fucking car. Tear the shit out of all the shit on my back-fucking-seat. First the traffic, now his bullshit antics.\"\n\nI sat in silence for a while, focused, listening for more from the crass and apparently delusional ghost that had appeared in my loft.\n\n\"Nothing?\" asked the guy in my head. \"Then where the fuck is all the talking coming from? The fuck?\"\n\nSomewhere in my head, puzzle pieces had appeared. They weren't being solved, fuck no, the puzzle was a long way from being solved, but the pieces were beginning to show. I'd concluded that there was a voice in my head. Beyond that, fuck knows.\n\n\"Wait. Is he having the same problem I'm having?\" I ask myself, silently this time.\n\n\"... am I going insane?\" I hear, from the man on the other end. \n\n\"Did the man in my head just ask me if he was crazy? Whoa,\" I thought to myself.\n\n\"Oh my god, what the shit is going on here?\" exclaimed the guy, audibly freaked the fuck out.\n\n\"Are you real?\" I think. I thought it to myself, but it was directed to the person on the other end.\n\nThere was silence for a beat, until:\n\n\"Jesus, guy asks me a question, I answer him, then nothing.\"\n\n\"He heard me.\" I thought to myself.\n\n\"He's not scared of me, I'm the one looking like a fucking fool here, why am I acting tough?\"\n\nI saw what was happening at this point. Whether it was happening for real or in my head, or someone else's head, I was still unsure. \n\n\"Don't speak to me, think to me,\" I explained. \n\n\"What is happening here?\" was the response. Finally, something actually directed to me. He's getting it. \n\n\"Are you real?\" I ask again. \n\n\"Yeah, you?\"\n\n\"Well, I think therefore I am, but that's probably not convincing enough coming from a man inside your head.\"\n\n\"Uh, say again?\"\n\n\"Nevermind.\" Clearly he wasn't the brightest specimen. \"Either something fucked up is going on, or you're a figment of my imagination.\"\n\n\"Well I know I'm not imaginary. Who the fuck are you to claim you're real?\"\n\n\"Good question.\"\n\n\"Yeah, you're fucking right!\"\n\nI rolled my eyes. Luckily he couldn't hear that. \"So, I can think of one way to solve this. Where are you?\"\n\n\"On my way to work.\"\n\n\"Yeah? Where the fuck is that?\"\n\n\"I'm at a red light. Corner of 5th and Gross-vendor.\"\n\n\"Grosvenor.\"\n\n\"Whatever.\"\n\n\"I live a couple blocks away. Stay the fuck there.\"\n\n\"Okay.\"\n\nSo yeah, I ran over and sure enough, he was real. We sat in a café for a while and tried so figure out exactly how it worked. We did, and now we're here.\"\n\nStern looked at me, his huge grin a compliment to my story. He asked, \"and that's how our very own New York superheroes came to be?\"\n\n\"Yep,\" I said, as I returned the smile.\n\nNote from the author: so I took some license with the prompt, oh well. Hope you enjoyed nonetheless. ", "\"Hey,\" a woman whispered. \"Hey, wake up. Come on. Please.\" \n\nI opened my eyes and looked around, but there was no one there. The only thing nearby was the metal garbage bin sitting at the foot of my blanket. It was still smoking and warm, but the fire was gone. \"Who are you?\" I asked the bin. I looked behind it, but the alley was completely empty, save for a chain link fence that separated the two sides of the street. \"Where are you?!\" I yelled. \"What do you want?\"\n\n\"James? Are you talking again? Just think it. I'll hear it. I can't hear you when you talk.\" Her voice was soft and sweet, but with the hint of rasp to it, which made it more interesting, like the acidic tinge to an orange.\n\n\"I'm awake,\"I said. She didn't respond.\n\nI'm awake, I thought. Who are you? Are you God?\n\n\"No, James. I'm not God. It's Terry. Damn it!\" her voice sounded distressed. \"What happened to you last night?\"\n\nI don't know, I thought, but I'm sleeping in a pile of rubbish for some reason. Who are you? Where am I?\n\n\"It's me, Terry. James... are you alright? Did you hit your head?\"\n\nI reached up to my forehead and felt a cloth. I pulled it off and took a look-- a greasy green shirt, crusted with dry blood. Probably. What's it to you? I asked the head-talker.\n\n\"Oh no,\" she responded. \"Do you remember anything?\"\n\nNo. I looked around, feeling a bit anxious about not knowing where I am or where her voice was coming from. Where am I? This isn't San Diego.\n\n\"No James, it's not... we have to find each other. We were both traveling towards Los Angeles. Do you have any idea of where you are?\"\n\nWhy?\n\n\"Because we... well, what else are we supposed to, James? You're the only other person I've heard from in weeks. For whatever reason, we're stuck together. We're supposed to meet up, I'm sure of it. Or, at least, it's the only thing I can think of doing.\"\n\nWhat do you mean? I listened around me and noticed how quiet everything was. There were no cars on the road, no human traffic. I didn't even hear the squeak of rats in the dumpster behind me.\n\n\"Everyone's gone James. It's just you and me, at least as far as either of us have seen.\" \n\nThe chain link fence at the end of the alley rattled. I looked over and saw a black figure standing there, like a tall man, but hunched over. A tiny, sharp head moved slowly through the air in front of it on a tendril, like the eye of a snail.\n\n\"What's wrong?\" Terry asked, reading my thoughts. \"What do you see? Oh god. James... do you still have the gun?\"\n\nI felt my side, the heavy metal still hung on my hip. Yes.\n\n\"Do you still know how to use it?\" she asked.\n\nPerhaps I thought to her, as I pulled the trigger.\n\nThe gun rung out with a yellow flash, and I could see the bullet had hit the thing. It lurched backwards, silently, the long black head flung behind it now. And then it screamed.\n\nI could feel the sound, it physically hit me like a gust of wind. It was a mix of the hiss of cockroach and the scream of a banshee. Car alarms rung out in the streets around me, and I decided I didn't want to see what was next.\n\n\"Did you kill it?\" Terry asked, but I was too busy getting the hell away to bother thinking to her.\n\nAs I turned and ran out into the street, I could hear the chain fence behind me rattling.\n\nTurning the corner, I ran as fast as I could. About three blocks down I saw a liquor store that was wide open and ran inside, ducking behind a magazine rack. I waited for a while, and finally got up when my stomach started to rumble. \n\nI searched through the shelves and picked out some chips and a soda. \"Anyone here?\" I called out to the back of the store. No attendant showed up.\n\nI shoved some snacks into my pockets and stepped outside. The streets were quiet, and I didn't see a single person walking or driving by. \n\nThis isn't San Diego, I thought to myself.\n\n\"James?\" whispered a voice, soft and feminine, but with a slight rasp. It was a plain voice, but the rasp made it feel more wholesome, giving it a complexity, like the sweet acid overtone in an orange. \"James, are you alright?\"\n\n\"Who wants to know?\" I asked, looking behind me. There was no one there. \"Hello? Show yourself.\"", "Katie had some Armenian kid. Mark a housewife up in Canada. Terry, that lucky SOB, had snagged Scarlett Johansson (and even had the nerve to complain that she talked too much!). Drew, Lil and Jen I forget - but they had someone and seemed happy enough; which is more than I could claim. In a world of pairs, I wasn't.\n\nWhat made this especially weird and annoying was how unique a situation it was. Heck, it couldn't even be replicated! The (unknown) system that governed this weird telepathic communication actively prevented it - illustrated by this short hypothetical: Couple A\|B breaks when B dies, but instead of becoming a loner like me, A instead couples with D to form A\|D, made possible by the death of C which had obviously brought an end to C\|D. Like, what the fuck!? Why me? Why didn't I get some cool, exotic, telepathic pen-pal? The whole situation stunk\n\nBut, whatever. Life goes on. As insane and unprecedented and strange as this sudden phenomenon was, it didn't really change much. Sure, it left some scientists stumped and spawned a dozen or so kooky religions, but what doesn't these days? I mean, we've had miraculous instantaneous communication for a good twenty years or so now, so big whoop. \n\nAlthough, to be completely honest, I'm still incredibly bitter. I think about it all the time. Fuck, it's like, it's all I think about! I envy the shit out of everyone else who has an ever-present buddy in their head whom they can be real and raw and uncensored with. Someone that listens and talks back and sympathizes and relates. \n\nBasically, I wish you would die already. I wish you'd die and I could be paired with someone else. What the fuck is your problem? Why won't you say anything!?" ]	4
	[WP] Why are stories about magic set in the Medieval times? Write a story about magic in the future.	[ "A bit of a mix up, I'm doing magic in present day\n\n======================================================\n\nMy alarm goes off as it does every monday. I groggily wave my hand and it stops. Ever since Wizzo's Inc. industrialized magic. every mage had to work there in order to make a decent living. Various bills where passed that made magic users exempt from most jobs because Wizzo's had a major stake as representatives of mages united. They made sure that mages could only work for them, as they were the only magical industry in the world. I worked as a scryer, a person that could see across space and time. But I was reduced to answering peoples calls and then looking for their keys or whatever.\n\nI go downstairs and find my breakfast already made. I'd had been practicing timed spells, and this was the only time they had worked. I ate my toast while my cloths came rushing down the stairs to get on me. Shirt. Pants. Shoes. Trousers. Tie. All the same. \n\nThe bus had arrived early today, so not too much waiting. Other members of Wizzo's I recognized from the office where riding with me. I flashed them a weak smile as we went to the giant building that was Wizzo's inc.\n\nI worked in the magical scrying department. I put on my purple safety robes as I walked up to my divination station.\n\nring ring First call. \"Hello, can you tell me if my little boy is at school?\" \"OK m'am, can you give me his name, age, hair and eye colour?\" Standard knowledge needed for active scrying. \"His name is Timmy Neausbalm, he's fifteen, and he has red hair and green eyes.\" \"Allright m'am, one moment please.\" Scrying took around five minutes to complete, much to the disdain of our customers. I chanted the magic incantation as an image of a young boy appeared. He was smoking with some friends outside a convenience store. Great. \"M'am, I'm sorry, but it seems your son is not at school.\" \"WHAAAAT! I'M CALLING HIM RIGHT NOW. OH, HE GET THIS FROM HIS FATHER, I'LL GIVE HIM A STERN TALKING TOO...\" The rest fades out as wave my hand and a little tick appears next to my name on the \"Calls Answered\" board. Seven more calls that day. Some didn't want to give hair, eye colour, or even names in some cases. I get back on the bus feeling drained. Doing magic all day requires an extreme amount of concentration, and Whizzo don't give us much time for breaks. \n\nI get back home, and my cat hops up onto my lap as I turn on netflix for the night, only to get back up and do the same thing tomorrow. ", "A man lives in dismay \n\nwatching his life waste away\n\n\nHe lives in the future\n\na place of happiness and computers\n\n\nSadly its not as it themes\n\nlife tearing at its seams\n\n\nA place war still exists \n\nday after day it persists\n\n\nAt three he was freed\n\nfrom his family to be\n\n\nhe grew up in the army \n\nwithout a family, but hearty\n\n\nHe was the subject of an experiment\n\nto improve lives it was meant\n\n\nHe had all the power in his mind\n\nthe force of a thousand combined\n\n\nBut he was forced to do evil\n\nhe had to rule all the people\n\n\nbut his power never provided \n\nhis love he confided\n\n\nhoping one day to see\n\nhis heart with its key\n\nprovided\n", "I walked down the hall of the Polymatheia Academy, boots clacking, bracelet jangling, daemon sniggering. When I first met the annoying imp I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t disappointed, as a reflection of ourselves a daemon doesn’t give off the best impression, but as the ancient French saying goes, “C’set la vie”. \n\nDaemons come in a variety of unique flavors. The phoenix lives and dies in a blaze of glory, the wolf is a loyal companion who you can count on, imps are ugly little things that play with others, etc. After a contract is formed they’ll assist you in your elemurgy. Daemons can amplify your casting speed and power tenfold, without getting into the nitty-gritty details they’re like a highway between the aether and your spellslots.\n\nMy imp’s name was Einstein, and he was being very unhelpful. I’m a humble guy, humble enough, but I know for a fact, a definite fact, that I am better at cryoturgy than virtually everybody else in my class. Since I was born I was able to manipulate the ice in my mother’s cocktail, I could freeze a swimming pool since I was 6, I could chill the air around to near absolute zero since I was 13. I was hand chosen by Zosimos the 7th of the 25th century because he saw my potential during basic screening!\n\nAnd now… now I can barely chill my can of CarboHydro.\n\n“Jeez,” sneered Einstein, “you really need to chill out.”\n\nI licked my lips. His taunt aside, he was right. I needed to calm down. Calming down always works. It’s helped me whenever I ran into a problem. Step back, breath in, analyze the situation. Weigh the options and choose the most beneficial solution.\n\nEinstein wouldn’t let me take half a step back before he pulled my ear.\n\n“Ow! Quit it!”\n\nI slapped the fucker off my shoulder, taking joy in watching it fly smack dab into the bare, white metal walls. It poofed out of existence in a blaze of black fire, reminiscent of a phoenix, before reappearing on my shoulder.\n\n“Now that wasn’t playing nice my aspiring little pyromancer.”\n\nAnd that’s the problem. For some reason the imp wanted me to explore pyroturgy. That made – makes - absolutely no sense to me. I was born with a natural talent for cryoturgy, why explore a new field? Your natural affinity for an element is based on a bunch of complicated factors. Genetics, the configuration of the aether around you as you were born, and personality among other things.\n\nI am a cryomancer. Not a hot-blooded, impulsive pyromancer.\n\nI refocused my mind onto the concepts taught to me in my youth. To be a successful cryomancer you had to let go of all your anger. Sharpen your mind. Everything has a weak point that you can exploit, everything has a solution. My weak point right now was the imp. It was holding me back. It had to go away. Outright killing it isn’t wise, though it is highly tempting. Daemon replacement is complicated but totally feasible. \n\nAnother pull of the ear pulled me back into reality.\n\n“You’re thinking naughty thoughts again deary boy.”\n\nEinstein stared at me with a slightly reproving look. I stared back with contempt.\n“You know,” it said, “you really aren’t the ice cold, level-headed professional you think you are. You aren’t calmly considering the situation. In fact you’re about to do the first extremely complicated, potentially deadly, thing that comes to mind.”\nI blinked, breaking eye contact.\n\n“Yes, see. You know it’s true. Embrace your impulse, your emotions. You’re an incredible cryomancer but you are more than that. I’ve impaired your cryoturgy for the express purpose of…”\n\nAt the words, “impaired your cryoturgy” I stopped listening and grabbed the fuck by the neck. My hands were shaking as I slammed it into the wall. My lips were dry, quickly rectified by a flick of my tongue.\n\n“All this time. All this fucking time…” my voice shook slightly, “you’ve went out of your way, to humiliate me. I summoned you to help me. Not hinder, help. I’m sure you’ve got some twisted logic behind that decision. I am not making an unreasonable demand when I say this. You will either return into the aether or you will do what I command. You will release your spell-break and return me to full strength.\n\nI slammed my free fist into the wall.\n\n“I want no backtalk, no familiarity. You are not my friend, you are my minion. I summoned you to fulfill one function. If you cannot do that you are useless to me.”\n\nEinstein smirked and pointed behind me. I turned my head to the right and gasped. A literal wing of fire had sprouted on my back. The heat was intense, I’m surprised that I barely noticed it until now. A sputtering cough came from Einstein as it lifted itself from the floor. I must have dropped him in shock.\n“You see? The wings of a phoenix, made without any conscious effort on your part. You can do so much more. All you have to do is to stop denying who you really are. Embrace your imperfections, make them your strength. Tempering your rage, repressing your impulses. You did that because you believed yourself to be a cryomancer. You are not. You can stop pretending. I am not your minion, I am a reflection of who you are.”\n\n“Impulsive huh?” I stared at the wing. It was an extension of myself, like a new limb. I folded and opened the wing, I spread it out and shrunk it back in. \nBut wings were supposed to come in pairs.\n\n“Release me.” \n\nEinstein looked at me uncertainly for a moment before nodding. A weight that I hadn’t felt before was lifted off me. I instantly froze the air on my left into the mirror image of the wing on my right. The ice was a stunning blue, nearly violet in fact, in striking contrast to the fiery orange and red of the flames.\n\n“Well,” I said, “It appears as if I should embrace both.”\n", "Red lights flash as sounds of alarm are drown out any conversation. A sharp mechanical voice erupts from the voice comms in the bridge. \n\n\"Enemy spotted starboard, shields raised, prepare to engage.\"\n\n\"You see that boys? Looks like we've got a hell of a fight on our hands.\" Says a man in a pressed black uniform, medals bursting from his chest and practically spilling onto the floor, Captain Lazarus of the Flying Titan pointing out the viewing deck to a xenos Battleship, twice the size of their Imperial Cruiser. Swarming with hundreds, no, thousands of fighters all streaming towards them, weapons gleaming with energy as they prepare to fire.\n\n\nPrivate Jakob Anders never wanted this position. Hell, when he signed up for The Navy he figured he would end up just patrolling an isolated sector and worse case scenario have to fight some rogue pirates scavenging one of the many Hulks that lurked in the Void. Now in front of him sat the greatest enemy the Imperium has ever known. Some kind of humanoid xenos with much more advanced technology, Railguns, plasma cannons, bombs that seemed to appear out of nowhere to explode directly at the hull bypassing shields.\n\n\"Anders, get the hell over here!\" Shouted the Captain, Anders realized he is just standing, staring at the doom that loomed before him instead of operating the only thing he knew how to do well, the communication relay. Anders jumped at his voiced and quickly started the radar protocols to communicate the exact position of the enemy so that when they were destroyed at least the Imperium would know the enemy was coming.\nRushing around Anders, the crew was a mixture of horror and grim set faces as they began to maneuver to engage the enemy essentially trying to stall as long as possible before they were wiped from existence. Outside the Battleship began to bristle as its main weapons charged up and the fighters began to fire their ordinance at the Imperial vessel. Anders struggled to be both fast and accurate with his message, one mistake could cause it to take years, if ever, to be received. The proper ritual must be followed if they are to at least make their death useful.\n\nAlpha Ship 93.258, this is the Flying Titan, we have made contact with an Enemy battle ship in Sector 86- There was a sudden lurch as the enemy weapons struck the Titan, and Anders message begins to static and fade. Damn, they must have hit the relay \n\n\"Captain, the relay system, its not responding to my commands.... I... I think its been destroyed..\"\n\nA blast strikes the ship, sending unsecured people reeling as papers and inkwells scatter across the room.\n\n\"Damage report NOW!\" The captain only has two volumes, loud shouts and very loud shouts. The mechanical voice comes on again. \"Communication Relay is destroyed. Hulls 4-6 breached in sections 89,91,93,100. Access has been sealed.\"\n\"DAMMIT TO THE VOID, the weapon targeter was there.\" The captain curses, \"Crew prepare to meet your Maker, full speed ahead, perhaps our mass can at least delay their advance. Aim all thrusts so that we strike as close to their engines as possible.\"\n\nJakob looks out at the enemy ship, its main cannon whirling with energy almost ready to fire its payload. Staring in to the mass of machinery and feeling the hopelessness of the situation Jakob is surprised to find that he does not feel any dread, instead he feels empowered. When death as imminent as his it is impossible not to feel a stripping away of inhibition. Jakob thinks back to his youth, the opportunities he missed, the doors he decided to shut instead of open. If only I took my chances and tried to do something else, damn all those fools that pressured me to join this damn Navy. My life was a series of doors in my face as I was guided by the actions of others into their paths instead of choosing my own \n\nAnother blast shakes the Bridge as the lights flicker off and on, silence consumes the crew as they truly realize the futility of this adventure. Sent out to patrol the edges of space, more like sent out to die and track the movements of enemies through lost ships Anders thinks darkly, staring at the crews expressions of denial, shock, awe, and acceptance of their fate. This damn xenos-scum, closing the final door to my life, the last nail in my coffin. If only we had another option, if only another way would open.\n\nAs Jakob thinks this he feels a surge of energy, not the blast of the ship toward him but energy from the opposite, a surge of energy from him, from this crew outwards to the Battleship. Jakob feels this energy engulf his mind, throwing it into chaos as he struggles to understand the visions he sees. Strange creatures with unintelligible anatomy speaking unknown tongues. Suddenly the energy is released from his mind. Jakob opens his eyes as wide as he can and looks out of the viewing deck and cannot believe it. The ship, is no longer going towards them, well at least not in one piece. \"What in all that is holy...\" Jakob whispers along with many of the crew. The ship is split in half, its forward cannon now pointing up and away from them, it seems to be sinking into a mass of purple and blue, electricity surges through great clouds of dust and energy. Fighters that have been racing towards them seem to be rewinding through time, their shots returning to them and back into the barrels of their weapons, time seems to bend and rewind itself. \n\n\"The ship, its... its destroyed?\" For the first time the Captain is not angry but confused and reserved. \n\nSuddenly the enemy ship crumbles like a ball of aluminum foil and plunges into the clouds, lightning illuminating, briefly, the outline of the broken ship.\n\nJakob feels warmth run down his mouth, a nosebleed he realizes. He looks around and everyone is no longer staring at the ship but rather at him. He follows their gaze and realizes all around him is a pentagram of blood, dripping from his nose and onto the ground, the walls of the control room are dotted with crimson red, seemingly like fresh needle pricks into flesh.\n\n\"COMMUNICATION RELAY is repaired, communication is online.\" The mechanical voice once more speaks out.\n\n\"I.... I... I don't understand....\" Jakob begins to speak but he falls, unconscious. \n\nThe Captain looks over him, and goes to the communication device Jakob once operated. He begins the ritualistic adjustment of message and receiving party.\n\nTo: Adeptus Astra Telepathica\n CC: Inquisitor Aiilon Roge\n\nThis is Captain Lazarus of the Flying Titan, we have made contact and destroyed an enemy Battleship, I'm afraid for the safety and well being of this crew. One of our own has displayed unusual powers, he must be a latent psyker. I will try to contain him as best I can but please hurry, we do not need this kind of power to fight our enemies. Our position is...", "I opened my eyes and had half an undisturbed second to stare into the comforting emptiness of my bedroom. I don't know why, but it often happens with alarm clocks and the like; I wake up just a moment before they are about to go off. Long enough to realise what's going on and to feel momentarily annoyed. \n'Cortana?' \n'Nose,' the familiar voice said, 'there's a long-distance transmission that requires your urgent attention.' \n'Am I no longer allowed the privilege of rest?' I was still very tired. \n'Sir, this request appears to be a distress call from the Deep.' \n'All right. Put them through.' \n\nI sat in my bed, preparing to listen.\n\n'Nose?' \n'The same,' I said dryly. 'It is half past three am and I was having my first nap in fifty-six hours. So please state your business.' \n'My name is Colonel James Fields. Sir, you are undoubtedly aware of the events presently unfolding in the Deep?' \n'No,' I said with some irritation. Then I got off the bed, put on my socks and shoes and went to the kitchen. 'I am aware what the Deep is; that is the extent of my knowledge, which so far I have found sufficient.' \n'If so, then you are aware the Deep is the only colony established in a Worthman-Malenkov Bubble for research and outreach purposes, and allowed to continue in contravention of the Safety and Differentiation Protocol ratified more than a century ago. The Deep can only be sustained with enormous energy expenditures because left to their own, WMBs collapse within days of inception.' \n'Continue,' I said. The espresso wasn't too bad, but of course the sheer familiarity of the taste was maddening. \n'You may also be aware that, while the Malenkov Deep Field is maintained by setting up a perimeter of boson emitters, and these can be procured relatively easily, the Worthman Stele, without which the whole operation is highly unstable and hazardous, requires a particular type of profession to operate it.'\n\nOf course.\n\n'Yes,' I said as I rummaged through my wardrobe in search of fresh trousers and the least crumpled shirt. I thought I now knew where this was headed. 'I seem to recall that the Deep's Stele has been maintained by the same person for the last hundred and fifty years or so. Andrew Wildspoon or something like that.' \n'Winterspoon. And yes, it had been maintained by Andrew, who was one of the great Callers of our time.' \n\nWas. So that's why the fatigue. Whenever one of us went, it sent a chilling reverberation throughout what they termed—for lack of a better term or understanding—Worthman space. Yet there was no discernible source of disturbance; so I would think nothing of it. But of course, the fact that he disappeared in the Deep made sense; and now it all clicked.\n\n'I see now. Would you have me take his place, then? Because I have a lot of work on all the other worlds.' \n'Oh no, Nose; after all, operating a mere stele is not how you earned your nickname, is it? No.' \n'What is it, then?' \n'Sir, Andrew did not simply disappear. He went of his own volition. He went beyond the Deep because somebody answered his call, and the urge to lock on to the answer was far too great. Great enough to make him leave all of us here. And we have no means of tracing him, as you can understand—we are engineers, physicists, programmers and what not, but not...' \n'Warlocks,' I said. 'You are not warlocks.' \n'Yes. We estimate that the time until this WMB breaks down is about two days. The perimeter will hold until then, but after that... Please, Nose. You need to come at once.' \n'Very well,' I said, putting on a jacket. 'I will come at once.' \n\nWith that, I entered their HQ. It was a different kind of difficult—not the usual trekking between the stars; more like traveling underwater in a bubble of cough syrup.\n\n'What?!' exclaimed the man. Colonel James Fields, it turned out, was a rather portly man, something I wouldn't have deduced from his voice. \n'This is how we converge on a call,' I explained. 'And the reason I am called Nose is I do it faster and better than anyone else. I do it practically instantaneously. For the external observer.' \n'So you know where Andrew is, then?' \n'Of course I do. I do now, that is,' I said. 'Now that I am here. Trouble is, I won't be able to bring him back.' \n'Why is that? You do understand the implications, don't you?' \n'I do,' I said wearily. 'But there's no bringing him back from the... undiscovered country from whose bourn no traveler returns.' \n'I don't understand,' said the Colonel. He was sweaty and pale. \n'He called for death,' I explained. 'Not for mysterious, Deep-dwelling aliens. Or rather... That too. It's just that that's what they are. That's what's in the Deep. Oblivion and death. That’s why the Bubble is so difficult to sustain.' \n'You are quite positive?' \n'Yes,' I said. \n'So what should we do, then?' \n'Evacuate,' I said. 'While you still have the time. And I will help by walking some of you out of here.'\n\nWhen the HQ was empty, I stayed behind for a while.\n\n'Andrew?' I said. I had felt his presence here all along, of course. \n'Nose?' he replied. \n'The same,' I said. 'Have you found him?' \n'Yes,' he said. Then, after a pause, 'He says he is ready to come back the second time. The Battle must be fought, he says. If anything… he seems slightly deranged.' \n'Good,' I said. 'Just imagine how much time it took us. How many people. The persecutions, the deaths, the... pointlessness of it all. How humiliating it all is, really, even now. So now we finish it, we drive home the great big nail of history. The farce has lasted long enough; and anyway—didn’t they all expect it, in their heart of hearts? The judgment and the cleansing of the faithless and the unwilling? Does he agree?' \n'Yes,' Andrew said slowly. 'He does.' \n'Good!' I said, cheerfully this time. A doubt crossed my mind, but only fleetingly. \n\n‘Nose?’ Andrew said. \n‘The same,’ I said. \n‘Trouble is, you’re not,’ Andrew said sadly. ‘You’re a crazed, deluded homicidal freak, who by some great injustice has been given one of the most formidable powers ever witnessed by man. I suspected it all the while—thank goodness I was able to confirm my suspicions! Good-bye, Nose.’\n\nThe Worthman Stele exploded.\n\n***\n\n‘Mr Winterspoon?’ \n‘Yes?’ \n‘Sir, I am afraid certain areas of your brain have been damaged irreparably.’ \n‘Perhaps.’ \n‘Sir… I am afraid you no longer have your… special abilities. Even though, strictly speaking, they cannot be directly localized to any particular part of the brain, it would appear that…’ \n‘Nurse… Please just let me rest for a while.’ \n‘Certainly, sir.’\n\nWhy is he smiling?", "\"The Isthmus.\"\n\nThe Farseer's attendants waited with baited breath, as the wrinkled man furrowed his brow. \n\n\"Reconnaissance corvette. Forty-five souls on board. Three thousand kilometers prograde, maintaining an equatorial orbit at eight hundred kilometers.\"\n\nAt once, the bridge exploded into activity. The captain fired off orders in every direction:\n\n\"Sound the general alarm. Crew to combat stations. Helm, take us down to six-hundred and prepare to burn for an interception.\"\n\nThe cruiser's engines roared to life with nuclear fire.\n\n-----------\n\nAcross the veil, a thin black disk hung over the world. In it sat an emaciated man, twitching in his black robe, his eyes covered by a yellowed bandage. The quiet hum of the vessel was a distant chorus. \n\nHis crooked voice was a whisper in the crew's mind. We have been discovered. Prepare for departure. \n\nAround him, the crew toiled in silence, their pale faces and unseeing eyes bathed in the sickly green glow of their disregarded instruments. The compartment became quiet as devices were shut off one by one, and finally the lights of the machines dimmed and the ship was pitch black. A soft invocation escaped the litch's cracked lips, and the vessel disappeared to a place unknown. " ]	6
	[WP] I opened the door, and faced the monster.	[ "I opened the door and there stood the monster. It didn't make no sound and it did not approach me. But it was there, watching me, biding its time. And its time would come, it would only have to wait some more. With every century it grew stronger. I watched it and hesitated. What could I do against such beast? It could turn its arms into razor sharp blades and grow fangs in an instant. It was like a dark shadow without clear boundaries. You could not know its shape without approaching it. But closing in on it would mean certain death. Or consumption - remaining live but a part of its evil being, devoid of own will or hope. Looking at it made it stronger. Not caring about it made it stronger. It smiled towards me, or at least I think it did. It was an evil grin, blood dripping from its mouth, the blood of millions of poor souls. Its eyes glowed with the memory of their last moments.\n\nI closed the door. And then I went and thought of how I could give people no reason to feed it.", "\"The loud banging and roaring terrified me. It would come almost every night and try to come in, but it could not get through it. I day dreamed about living at peace and thought of running from this place more times that I can think of, but I had to stay. If I left It would surely rip her to shreds. But I couldn't do it anymore, living in fear is not living, I had to protect us. \n\n\nI picked up my old wooden baseball bat, my dad would take me out to play with it when I was a little kid, but he's gone now. I blew the dirt of it and grassed it firmly with both hands while doing some practice swings. I slowly walked to the door and the knocking was slowing down. I could I hear It's disgusting heavy breathing. When I got to the door I took a deep breath and said to my self:\n'I love you mom.'\n\n\nI swung the door open and it was standing there. Dark, tall and had container with liquid in it. I swung for it's head and connected with my bat. It's head made a thunk sound and It quickly fell on the ground, but I didn't want to stop. I kept hitting it over, and over and over and over again each time getting more blood in my face and hair. I would be lying to you if I said I didn't enjoy it. After what felt like an eternity my mother ran to me and pushed me off It screaming 'WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO HIM!?' I was confused, I thought she would be happy now that we were free from it. \"\n\n\nI took the earphones off horrified of what I had just listened to. \n\n\n\"What is wrong with him doctor?\" I asked the psychiatrist.\n\n\n\" Ma'am your son seems to be suffering from PTSD and schizophrenia. \nHe was abused so much that his mind replaced the image of your husband, he convinced himself that he was a monster and if he killed him his father would be released. I have dealt with children like this in the past and I believe that with proper medication and therapy he could have a shot at a normal life.\"\n\n\nShe kept talking but I couldn't hear her words. All I could think was. \n\n\nMy boy. My beautiful boy killed his father...to protect me.\n\n", "The monster is just a part of me, \nof course, \nthat has been locked away. \nI am scared It will learn how to \nturn door handles\nexactly when I'm not ready.\nSo I do it now before It gets too strong\nAnd I get too weak.\n-\nI open the door and face the monster. \n-\nIt is not what I pictured it to be.\nIt is small and pink\nFleshy but not fat\nJust like a baby piglet.\n-\nI don't know what to do\nNow that I see it.\nShould I kill it or\nClose the door back up?\n-\nPart of me wants to scream\nJust because it isn't horrible\nAnd maybe I'll frighten it.\nPart of me wants to dance\nBecause I did it.\nI opened the forbidden door.\n-\nWe stare at eachother for what \nSeems like hours.\nIt doesn't know what to do with me\nEither\nIt just wants me to \nclose the door back up.\n-\nI decide to touch it.\nI inch closer.\nIt disappears.\nIt was never there.\nSo that's that.\n-\nNext door, please.\n-\n", "I opened the door, and faced the monster. Its eyes were big and black and dotted with small pinpricks of white, like the stars. Its ears were impossibly long and hung from the top of its wolfish head like black streamers, undulating on a wind I couldn’t feel. It leaned in close to me, pressed its cold, wet nose against my chest, and drew in a deep breath.\n\n“*You,” it growled. Its fur stood on end and the stars in its eyes twinkled. I could only wait and watch, even as my heart hammered against my chest, as my primal instincts urged me to run. I stood my ground -- fists clenched and brow furrowed. The monster’s laughter echoed all around me. It pulled away from me, slowly, and when it finally stood, towering above me, I spoke.\n\n“Leave this place.”\n\nMy words repeated in whispers from the darkness surrounding us, over and over. The monster gnashed its teeth and swung at the voices with its great, clawed hands.\n\n“This place is MINE,” it roared, “I won’t let you keep it!”\n\n“No,” I said, and the whispers went on again, repeating my words. Some of them giggled, high-pitched and child-like. “This place is mine. I took it from you, remember? Now leave.”\n\nIt turned from me and walked only a few feet away. Then it faced me once again, and crouched low.\n\nI clenched my teeth. It would have to be this way, wouldn’t it? I shut the door behind me and stepped out onto the field.\n\nedit: grammar and such*\n" ]	4
	[WP] You're an employee in hell. Fed up with your current job you try everything possible to get a promotion.	[ "\"Hello?\"\n\n\"Hey sir, uh, are you awake?\" the voice on the phone asked timidly. Recognition slowly kicked in: it was the temp that we had working the phones on the night shift.\n\n\"Yeah,\" my voice was dry, cracking. Keep it cool, I thought. \"Just trouble sleeping.\" Be smooth. \"What's going on... Roger was it?\"\n\n\"Uh, yes, yes sir. Sorry to wake - or bother you at such an hour. There's been... an event, and the Midshift Supervisor thinks that you should come down here.\" He was too new and too inexperienced for me to glean anything from his tone, anything could have been going on\ndown there.\n\nI suppressed my frustration, \"I'll be right there.\"\n\nThree deep breathes. I took a moment in the hallway mirror to straighten my tie, and the small red inverted cross pin on my lapel. Take your time, it'll seem odd if you show up so quickly.\n\nIt took every ounce of willpower to not run to the car.\n\nThe office was mayhem, as I knew it would be. The look of shock on my face as I came through the door should have been convincing, I had been practicing it in my bathroom mirror.\n\nOur small waiting area just inside the front door was packed, wall to wall. It was standing room only, standing room only! Our only magazines (Highlights with all the \"spot the differences\" circled already) were scattered and lost on the floor, the ugly uncomfortable chairs and the small amount of standing room around them was packed with stuffy looking old white men. They were bickering with each other ceaselessly, creating a background din of conversation routinely pierced by the constant ringing of the reception phone.\n\nThere wasn't a chance in town that Roger would get that phone under control, especially with all of our clients complaining about the wait time.\n\nI glided past reception and through the glass wall adorned with the department and office motto \"Seven That Are An Abomination to Him: A Lying Tongue. -Proverbs 6:16-19.\" The processing room was abuzz and I drank in the sound of fingers on keyboards, staplers, and the laser printer spitting out forms like there was no tomorrow. They had called everyone in, it seemed. Every desk was filled and most had a second processor aiding, a clipboard at his or her side.\n\nWhen the door to my office shut behind me, the sound was gone, but the flurry of action was obvious through the glass wall. I suppressed the smile that was fighting its way to my face, stay cool, stay focused. Three deep breathes.\n\nMy eyes snapped open at the sound of my door opening and the roar of glorious work poured in momentarily. I was presented with my Deputy Director, his tie askew, hair disheveled and a mess of papers grasped in one hand.\n\n\"Director,\" he blurted out, followed by at least thirty inaudible syllables.\n\n\"John, please, sit\" I said calmly, \"take a deep breath and tell me what the here is going on.\"\n\nJohn obliged, his body sank in the chair immediately, he was obviously exhausted. He took three deep breathes and started over. \"We didn't want to have to call you in, but we've got such a huge workload that we needed your approval to fast track a lot of the HE-666 forms up to central. We can't wait for distributed processing to approve them, we've got too much of a demand right now. We definitely don't have the funding from Misplaced Souls to put them in housing, unless you allocate it.\"\n\nOh the bureaucracy of hell.\n\n\"John, got it. I trust you've got everything under control. Put whatever you need on my desk and I'll make sure it gets done. But John, you haven't even told me what's happened.\"\n\n\"Perhaps WE can discuss it with you, Director?\" an unfamiliar voice that took me by surprise. I hadn't heard the door open. Two suits were standing to my left. White ties, their lapels weren't pinned with a cross (inverted or otherwise). I swore inwardly, I hadn't expected them to show up so quickly.\n\n\"John, can you give us a minute?\" I asked the chair where my deputy had been sitting.\n\nI turned to my visitors, \"What brings internal affairs down here?\" They were already sitting.\n\n\"Seems a bit busy down here, quite the tragedy.\" One said to me. I couldn't tell if he had a smug look on his nondescript face. \"An earthquake on the east coast, during that important speech. Who would have thought so many politicians would be in the same room together? Or that the roof would cave in?\"\n\n\"So that's what happened?\" I asked, I had practiced this line, but I had expected to deliver it to John, not IA. Their eyes took in every nuance of my countenance, every waiver in my speech.\n\n\"Yes. Don't you think it's odd? Especially with your office's numbers being so low recently? Performance reviews are coming up, aren't they?\"\n\nI hadn't considered that they'd have an in into the inner workings of the town, this wasn't good. \"No sir, I'm as surprised as you guys are, and please, let me know if there's anything I can do to aid in your investigation.\"\n\n\"Director, please. I'm sorry but you've misunderstood us. This is not an investigation, my previous banter was merely for your comfort. We are here to take you in.\" Now he was smug, I didn't even try to hide the look of surprise on my face. \"Your angelic co-conspirator confessed to everything the moment we showed up. An impressive scheme, and an interesting bit of bipartisanship we haven't had the pleasure of seen in quite a long time.\"\n\nAngels, I knew he had a vested interest in getting rid of some politicians, but I had forgotten that they were terrible liars. Ironic I suppose; I, of all people should have thought of that.\n\n> This is my first contribution to WP. I've always wanted to get into writing but getting words on paper is hard. I figure it's never a bad time to start! Thanks for reading and I always welcome CC.", "You know the funny thing about WormWood is that I swear I never have seen him work a day in his life. He comes up to me like the big shot he is and says \"Yo, Andras. Had any good possessions lately?\" Knowing full well that my portfolio was about as empty as a donation jar on December 26th. \"You know I just got a young girl to say she sucked a priest's cock.\"\n\n\"Wow how original Wormwood, no one has ever done that before.\" I let out with a bitter connotation. \n\nHis horns twist upwards and he says to me \"Well with that attitude no wonder you are just a groundling and nothing more, keep pushing papers there Andras sure the big man will notice the filing eventually.\" He paces out and his tail knocks over my papers on his way out of my cubicle.\n\n\"Ass.\" I mutter to myself. He wouldn't be so cocky if he wasn't Abaddon's son. Here I am the son of just a common groundling, nothing to say my family has done, no religious figures we have killed. Just a big stack of papers and plenty of animals we have made go crazy. Cows and birds do not equal humans. What an asshole. Anyway, who am I to complain? I get good work, I am important right? Without me who would keep track of all the possessions and summonings on the day to day basis. I am important. As our motto says \" Every fiend is a friend to Hell Co.\" I am important...but not as important as WormWood... I mean he is important and gets the big people. But you know... If I got even one big client I would be on the top of the Demon of the month charts. Then I would get to possess the sexy busty ladies and he could file the paperwork. But how?\n\nHow to get it?!\n\nI mean I am number 3200145 on the list and he is number 1345006. I am a groundling and he is a demon! I mean honestly the only way I could even remotely get a promotion would be to do something amazing, like discover a new sin... yes the sin of WormWood. The cardinal sin of being just an unforgivable piece of shit... nah.... Lucifer would never be into that... there is no Latin in it. \n\nFuck him. \n\nSomeone like him should never have made it so high. Someone like him should just be lower than a groundling. You know what he should be? An imp. Clean the bathrooms of our office. Scrub out the flaming sulfuric shit stains on our coal thrones. Scrubbing the bloody puss filled lumps we leave in our bowls. Down on his knees his hooves covered in latex gloves to protect from the infections. Haha...haha..hahahahhaha. What a sight to see.. My god imagine him on the ground--\n\nthe bell rings. Lunch time is here.\n\nI make my way to the break room and open the fridge. The only thing that will get me through this day is my brain salad sandwich that my wife makes. I open the bag marked Andras and--- it's empty... why is my bag empty. \n\n\"You know buddy, your wife makes one hell of a brain.\" WormWood is flying above me slurping down the bloody entrails of my meal. His large member slapping me in the head with every flap of his large red wings. \" Next time tell her to hold on the gray matter\" Before I can even let out a word he flies away leaving me with nothing but the pudding cup in my bag.\n\nThat is it... that is the last straw WormWood. I hate you. I hate him. I will... do something stupid. YEAH that's right. I will do something stupid!\n\nI storm out of the breakroom and go over to his office. The shiny black office space full of pentagrams and shiny new upside down crosses and I just take a steaming hot dumb right on his desk and the picture of his wife Amy. \n\n\"Yeah! That's right! Fuck you WormWood!\" The entire office smells of sulfur and filth. Just for safe measure I piss out some oil on his folders and his new computer. \"Wow. What nice stuff the demons get. Too bad it all is covered in piss! HA!\" \n\nAfter I finally empty myself of all liquids and substances I see the art piece I have created and the..... OH MY GOD I JUST SHIT IN SOMEONE'S OFFICE! If someone sees this I will get fired for sure. I will be totally killed. Or worse, fired! Fuck fuck fuck! What will I do.... people will smell this from a mile away.. Ok think Andras, think. \n\nI grab the ear wax candle from inside of WormWood's desk drawer to hide the smell while I think, I light a match and then--- my shit is incredibly sulferous isn't it?\n\nIn a brief moment the light of the match ignites the sulfur and gasoline covering the room. The room goes up in flames, more than flames. Putrid pestilent filthy red destructive flames. I didn't know I shit so much...I guess it had been a decade or so.\n\nThe entire office would catch on fire at this rate. I fly out the window into the parking lot and watch as it spreads quickly. Into Allastor's office into Baal's office and oh my Satan even into accounting!! I take out my phone and call the department of flame fanning. \n\n\"I am calling from Hell Co. A literal shit storm is growing come quick before it devours the entire cavern.\" I put my phone away and look up to see... none other than the big man himself. The Big B. Beelzebub. He looks down at me, his horns eclipsing the flames of the building.\n\n\"Just what are you doing?\" His tail whips around and fans some shit out of the air.\n\n\"Uh...\" Terrified I say \"Just calling to get someone to put that out.\"\n\nHe looks at me and for a brief moment I could see pictures of my death in his eyes when he says \"Good. We need more people with initiative like that. Without your help this place could burn to the ground and we don't want that do we?\"\n\nWhat. What did he just say? \"Uhh yup. You are right sir. I mean I am just doing my job.\"\n\n\"Too bad we don't know who started the fire. With the whole building up like this there is no way to trace it.\"\n\nWithout even thinking. \"WormWood sir.\"\n\n\"Who?\" He asks, showing his pointy yellow teeth.\n\n\"The demon from floor 3? He lit the fire as a joke I think.\"\n\n\"Well. We will have to see that he is punished for that. And that someone has to take his place. What was your name kid?\n\n\"Andras, sir...Andras.\"\n", " Why must hell be so droll?\n This work is truly\n Taking its toll\n Hellfire this\n Brimstone that\n All these goddamn\n Vampire bats\n The work down here is driving me mental\n Insurance doesn't even cover my dental\n I asked the boss for a promotion \n He said I'd have better luck\n Setting fire to the ocean\n I told HR about this occurrence\n And asked them about\n An employment transference\n They told me to go back\n To my 9 to 5\n And told me I'm lucky\n To not be alive\n\n", "Everyday I slave away at work. Boss doesn't give a shit about what I do everyday. \n\nI even killed Gary or whatever his fucking name was and Satan doesn't even bat an eye.\n\nFor fucks sake I even gassed 6 million jews while I was alive. What more does it fucking take? What else does he want me to do?\n\nMy god Satan just promote me god damn it\n\n\"Sorry Hitler, you're just not as sick and twisted as this 4chan guy.\"", "\"What\", the great demon Blaurtoug spluttered, \"is this meant to be, Smaslort!\"\nA single elongated finger scratched at his furry tongue, quite incredulously. He was staring, dumbfounded, at the ring of tarmac that was currently being laid by chain-gangs of bulbous imps.\n\nSmaslort was a lot smaller than Blaurtoug. In fact, the lesser demon looked like a child in comparison to the hulking overseer - a strange and twisted child built mainly from bone. His lipless mouth, permanently grinning, seemed to widen further at his immediate superior's rage. \n\n\"This is the future of Hell, Blaurtoug.\" Smaslort said, barely concealing his dislike for his small-minded boss.\"Mark my words, you'll be seeing one of these everywhere from the Screaming Pits to the Human Forest before long!\" \nBlaurtoug's tail whipped the burnt earth beneath his feet, and every one of his seventeen shoulders bristled with with the purest annoyance. Meanwhile, a passing band of imps dragged a central divider past the two demons in their usual haphazard way, clunking and jabbering away as they went.\n\n\"Your plans are always terrible, Smaslort. Look at the resources you're using up here! Two thousand imps. Just imagine - two thousands imps, whipping at one hundred times a minute... you've wasted thousands of torture-hours on this ridiculous pet project. Oh yes, I'm definitely going to have to write you up for this one.\"\n\nBlaurtoug pulled out a clipboard concealed in one of his spiny appendages and began filling out a form, labelled 'DEMON DISCIPLINARY PROCEDURE 221B-46'. \"And this is your fourth warning this month\" he continued. \"You know what this means? A personal inspection from him.\" On speaking the last word, Blaurtoug pointed to the tower in the very centre of Hell, permanently encircled by a ring of malevolent red clouds. \"And by him,\" Blaurtoug said, somewhat obviously, \"I mean our Lord. Lucifer himself.\"\n\nSmaslort's shit-eating grin shrunk noticeably on the mention of that name. He had been expecting it - no, his plan relied on an inspection - but the name of the Lord of the Underworld spoken out loud was still enough to make him panic a little. Anything, he thought, anything was worth being promoted above the feckless Blaurtoug, no matter the risk involved. Smaslort saw him as the absolute embodiment of the ridiculous system of privilege that Hell ran by. Sure, he wasn't born with permanent flames erupting from his torso like Blaurtoug. Sure, he didn't have ninety-two different types of claw. But he had something else going for him. Something he was going to prove. \n\nTwo imps dragged a few trees into place by the tarmac while others were laying down white markings. Blaurtoug had stomped off to Lucifer's lair to deliver his forms, so Smaslort rallied his troops with a crack of the whip. It was all coming together now.\n\n-\n\n\"So they truly believe they're on the motorway?\" Lucifer said, the pungent fumes from his breath almost causing Smaslort to lose consciousness as he spoke. \"Yes, M'lord. You see, each of them believes themselves to be alive and late for a great event in their lives - graduation, a big job interview, the birth of a child - etc.\" \n\nThere were cars all the way around the gigantic tarmac loop now, and a cacophony of horns rang from all around. Sometimes the traffic shifted forwards a little, but it never allowed more than a single lane to go at more than 5MPH for more than a few seconds. \"But actually, they're all stuck in this traffic jam for eternity. They never realise they've been there forever and they'll be in this state for forever more. Their pain and frustration is permanent, thus filling my torture-quota for the month every twenty-four hours.\"\n\nLucifer raised his formerly angelic head with a smile. \"Oh my, small Smaslort. It appears you have bigger things in store than I ever imagined.\" In that very moment, Blaurtoug's sullen face was worth more to Smaslort than even returning to heaven.\n\n-\n>Hey guys, this is my first time contributing to /r/Writingprompts - long story short, fell out of love with writing and trying to pick it up again. CC welcome, but hope you enjoyed!\n" ]	5
	[WP] A man finally discovers his superpower...well into his 80's.	[ "\"It's just that half of all them gals down there are just bitches, ripe bitches,\" some young white punk with greasy cornrows said as he lifted up his glass of vodka. \"This one be for the bitches.\"\n\nThe crew of young high school dropouts lifted their glasses and banged them together. The smell of cigarettes and Doritos polluted the bar as they simultaneously exhaled after slamming their empty glasses on the table obnoxiously hard. For the next hour and half they energetically went through a myriad of conversation topics--porn, ex-girlfriends, heroine, cars, dead friends, and alcohol. Their banter slowly descended into a madness of laughter, shot after shot. Suddenly they were hushed. \n\nAn elderly man opened the bar door. A white light from the street temporarily blinded the table of boys. The man pathetically shuffled over to the counter. He wore a worn-out plaid jacket and a pair of corduroy pants. Lightly tapping the table with his fingers, a husky bartender leaned over.\n\n\"Need help, friend?\" the bartender said, keeping an eye on the group of kids who were now suspiciously looking at the old man.\n\n\"Yeah,\" the old man said. \"Just a shot of scotch for now. Actually I'll do two right now.\"\n\n\"Sure thing.\"\n\nThe old man sighed as he looked at his watch. It was a habit. He wasn't going anywhere later. He had no meeting to go to, no one to see, no job, no curfew. He thought sometimes that if the hand struck twelve, he would die. It was a habit though.\n\n\"Hey hey how ya doin there sucker?\" the kid with cornrows said, while taking a seat on the vinyl chair at the bar next to the old man. \n\nThe old man glared over at him. For some reason he knew he would get dragged into some joke of a conversation with one of those kids.\n\n\"I don't know, sucker.\" the old man said while the bartender slid two shots of scotch in front of him.\n\n\"Course you do, you just think I'm being some sharp-ass punk for doing this.\"\n\n\"So?\" the old man lifted a shot to his mouth a poured it down. \"Got any reason for talking to me?\"\n\n\"Yeah, yeah I do sucker. You been in war?\"\n\n\"Sure.\"\n\n\"Then you know what--\"\n\n\"What it's like to have a gun pointed at me?\" \n\nThe old man noticed a small silver handgun concealed under the kid's grey sweatshirt.\n\n\"How much fuckin' dope you got?\"\n\n\"Doe and dope are two different things.\"\n\n\"H'much doe then?\"\n\n\"About a hundred,\" the old man said, lifting the second glass up to his lips.\n\n\"I want it,\" the kid said, tensing his index finger on the trigger. \"Gimme.\"\n\nThe kid was sweating at this point. He was more distraught than the man.\n\n\"Okay,\" the old man said while the scotch was lifted up to his mouth. \"Let me finish.\"\n\n\"Finish the fuckin' drink grampy.\" \n\nThe old man lifted the empty glass from his mouth and threw it across the room. It shattered against the wall.\n\n\"No, I mean finish this.\" \n\nSuddenly a burst of white fire consumed the bar. The wooden pillars gave way and a cloud of dust arose while the building collapsed. It was all rubble now. Bodies lay across the ground. The kid with the cornrows collapsed, bricks crushing his legs, his face covered in a pale coating of dust. The old man shuffled to him and showed him his watch. The hand struck twelve.\n\n\"Okay,\" the old man said while glancing at his watch. \"Time for you to die.\"", "Tap tap tap \n\nThe knock on the door surprised me. I didn't expect any visitors this late into the evening and the nurses usually don't check up on me until 10:30.\n\n\"Come in.\"\n\n\"Good evening, sir!\"\n\nThat's an unfamiliar voice...\n\nI looked up to find a tall man entering my room. He was in his mid-thirties from my estimation. He wore a nice suite with a deep blue tie and his dark brown hair was neatly combed back in a tidy hairstyle. \n\nIf I had looks like that... I thought to myself, Life would be good.\n\nHis lips curled upwards towards his inviting blue eyes as he smiled to introduce himself.\n\n\"I'm Pastor Ben from the local church down the street. I like to visit the hospital every so often to check up on patients and ask them if they would like to talk or pray. Is there anything I could do for you?\"\n\nGreat... A pastor.\n\n\"I'm not much of a religious man,\" I admitted, \"but it is nice to have some company.\"\n\n\"I'm happy to give you some of my time.\"\n\nThe young cleric smiled again as he took a seat next to my hospital bed. \n\"So what brings you to the hospital?\" He asked.\n\n\"Oh nothing unusual for a man of my age.\" I laughed. \"High blood pressure, diabetes complications, oh, and let's not forget the prostate cancer. Just the usual ailments for a 83 year-old man like me.\"\n\nI smiled at him as his face took on a solemn wince.\n\n\"I'm sorry to hear about all that, sir.\"\n\n\"Please,\" I interrupted, \"call me William.\"\n\n\"William... It's nice to meet you.\" The young man inspected me closely. \"You know, I never would thought you were so sick just by looking at you. You look pretty healthy to me.\"\n\n\"You're not the first person to tell me that, you know.\" I smiled as we shook hands. \"The doctors were quite surprised that I was sick too. Imagine how I must have felt!\"\n\nBen laughed and sat up from his seat. \"Well, William, would you mind if I asked to pray with you?\"\n\nThe young pastor looked straight into my eyes. He was charming and kind. How could I refuse him?\n\n\"I told you I'm not very religious, but I guess I wouldn't mind.\"\n\n\"Thank you!\" The pastor responded. \"May I hold your hands as we pray?\"\n\n\"Why not?\" I shrugged. \"I don't have that much longer to live anyways.\"\n\nI closed my eyes as the young pastor took my hands into his and began to pray. As he spoke, I began to feel peace and strength flow into me. Perhaps this religious stuff isn't as phony as I thought...\n\n\"Dear Heavenly Father,\" he paused and groaned slightly as if he were in pain, \"I come to you today with--\" Ben coughed violently, but I was feeling better by the second. Maybe there's some truth to this prayer thing. \"With William who is sick and in need of healing.\" The preacher was straining now with each word he spoke. \"Please be with him in this difficult time in his life. Please place your healing hands... Ahh...! GAH!\"\n\nI opened my eyes to check what was going on, only to find the young man groaning and writhing in pain. His hands were clutching onto mine, gripping as hard as he could. This should be painful, I thought, but I didn't feel a thing. Instead, I felt great.\n\nIt was as though this young man's life was flowing into me. I had never felt anything like this before. It was incredible. I felt decades younger.\n\nBen kept trying to break free from our hold. \"Please!\" He begged. \"What are you doing to me? Please stop!\" But I wouldn't let go. How could I? I was being healed. I smiled for his prayers were being answered.\n\nA few moments later the writhing stopped. This foolish young pastor was no longer groaning, he was no longer anything. Before me was a limp and withered shell of a man, while I felt better than I had in my entire life!\n\nI'm sorry. I thought to myself. But know that your sacrifice will not be in vain.\n\nI got up from the hospital bed and looked at the mirror. The face of a young man in his mid-thirties stared back at me. What the hell just happened? Actually, who cares? I was back, and with this newfound power, I was ready to do anything.\n\nI took Ben's nice suit and tie and headed out the door, ready to live life all over again.\n\nI always knew I was special.\n" ]	2
You are him. Satan, Lucifer, whatever your name is. You just don't know it. You have been reborn/have reappeared on Earth with no memories of the past.	[WP] You are the devil, reborn.	[ "Nick slumped in his office chair. It was going to be a long week. The air was hot, stuffy and it seemed that the ceiling fan was out again. Nick grumbled, wiping the sleep from his eyes. He felt irritable and fished in his pocket for the snack of the day; a banana. It seemed too early to eat it now but Nick was ravenous. He gobbled it down. He felt, better? \n\n\"Mornin' Nick,\" smiled Jon. Jon sat behind him and always seemed to radiate positive energy. He must not need coffee, Nick thought bitterly. \n\n\"Hey Jon,\" said Nick, \"how was your weekend?\"\n\nJon beamed. \"It was great. Me and Christy took the kids out on the lake with the new boat. Had a fun time. What about you?\"\n\n\"It was alright, not great.\" To be honest, Nick couldn't remember what had happened over the weekend. Same old boring stuff probably. He remembered that he needed to improve his communication with others. That was a goal he wanted to work on. Listen, talk about others, not yourself. \"But a boat sounds pretty cool, what kind?\"\n\n\"Oh nothing fancy, just a little rowboat.\"\n\n\"Oh like Mike's?\" \n\n\"No, uh Mike has a sailboat.\" Jon frowned. He turned to go back to his work. Nick's brow furrowed. Had he said something wrong? Shaking his head, he started on his work. At least the fan started working, Nick thought. He felt more relaxed.\n\nSlowly, his office started to fill. Eric wheeled in, nodding at Nick. Nick nodded right back. He always felt a little awkward around Eric. He had never socialized or worked with someone in a wheelchair. There always seemed to be a shiver running through him as they conversed. Nick would try to pry his eyes away from Eric’s legs, but they always seemed to be there at the end. \n\n10 o’clock. Time to stretch the legs. Nick read that sitting in an office for eight hours a day was hell on the circulation and joints. His knees popped as he stood, stretching his legs in a languid fashion. He groaned as the blood pumped through his system. With emphasis, he stepped and trod around the hallway to give his feet a little extra exercise. Damn, he thought, I need to do this more often. His legs felt stiff. He should really go to the gym more. Lost in thought, he barely avoided Eric who was coming around the bend. Eric snickered at the whimsical sight before him. “Hey Nick, whatcha up to?”\n\n“Oh just stretching the ol’ legs, you know?” \n\n“Um right,” Eric grunted. With a squeal of rubber on cheap tiles, he was gone. Nick cocked his head around. Hmm Eric’s tone seemed a little off. It was Monday after all. Luckily, the leg exercises were starting to really work. He felt a little looser, his muscles starting to work with him. Nick sighed with relief. \n\nAs he started towards his cubicle, he almost ran into the new intern Angela. \n“Oh excuse me!” she exclaimed. Nick attempted to maintain eye-contact. He always had a bad habit of shifting his gaze to the floor like a child. Ah but not too long, his brain reminded him. Too long and it looks creepy. \n\n“Oh quite all right. It was my fault anyways.”\nAngela blushed. She was quite lovely looking, thought Nick. Someone so young and talented would never go out with me. Nick’s eyes darted to the floor. Damn it, his brain screamed, get back to your cubicle before you make any more mistakes. Nodding, Nick hurried to his desk. His co-worker Mike was waiting for him. \n\n“Hey Nick, how’s it going?”\n\n“Fine,” Nick muttered. He was in no mood to talk to Mike. A braggart, Mike was always slipping in his newest “toys” that he happened to purchase recently. His family is so rich, he has it so much better than us. Nick felt negativity shrouding him again. Remember, said his brain, it’s not about you. Talk about them. “Oh uh, Mike, I’m really sorry to hear about your father.”\n\nMike’s eyebrows shot up with surprise. “Uh thanks Nick. I appreciate it.” The words did not match the grim expression etched on his face. “How did you know about that?” \n\n“Well,” started Nick. A thought occurred to him. How did he know that Mike’s father was in the hospital? Surely someone must have mentioned it. Surely…\n\n“Oh you know, just heard about it.”\n\nMike didn’t seem convinced. “Right.” He went back to his desk.\n\nIn spite of himself, Nick felt a surge run through him. It was usually the time where he would get his large coffee but, he didn’t feel he needed it this time. He had so much energy. Nick flexed his fingers and started with his work again. Maybe, he thought to himself, maybe I’ll ask Angela out. She deserves someone like me. Nick wiggled in his chair, as the thought of fucking Angela at his desk made him giddy. She always wanted him, he could tell. She always wanted someone with confidence. As Nick tapped the keys with authority, he smiled to himself. Whoever said Mondays had to be bad? \n", "“Hey mommy, got a light?”\n\n“What the fuck, Timmy?” Mommy clapped her hand to her mouth in horror - not at the joint I held, but at her own words. She’d stopped using curse words as soon as she found out she was pregnant with me. Her actual last cuss before now was a whispered Holy Shit as she stared at the little plus sign in a high school washroom stall. It’s a weird thing to know about the woman who gave birth to you, but I deal. Or I’m trying to. It’s a bit new to me, really, and there’s a lot of information to process.\n\nWeed helps, or at least, I think it will, once I give it a chance. I’ve got a good feeling about it. Mommy always used to use it to relax. A very liberating thing to know about her, though I’m not really sure why.\n\n“What are you doing? Where did you get that, honey? Just... give it here!”\n\n“I stole it off your old dealer when you stopped to chat with him at the grocery store. Got about a half a kilo, actually - don’t worry, I’ll share. Figured it was the least he could do for you - turns out, he sold Daddy the rohypnol he used, to, you know, give this guy a chance to ... um... well, you know. Or now you do.” I winced internally at the crumple to Mommy’s face. I might naturally have a devil-may-care attitude about other peoples’ emotions, but let’s just say I’m already looking forward to meeting Daddy and having some one-on-one time. God and I both know where that dude is headed when he dies.\n\nMommy sat down like someone had cut her strings. “Hold on hold on hold on,” she said, flapping her hands around her head. “Timmy, what is going on? You - where did you learn that kind of language? You were LISPING this morning, for god’s sake, and now you sound like... like... THIS! And drugs? This isn’t how I raised you!”\n\nI could only shrug. “Some weird shit’s gone down, Mommy. We went shopping this morning, and about halfway through, it was like,” I snapped my fingers, impressed that I’d managed to do it at all. More impressed with the flame that appeared on my thumb when I did it. “Hah, that’s awesome. Hey Mommy, I don’t need a lighter anymore and I think we could both use some chill - pass me the spliff?”\n\n“NO!” Mommy blew out my thumb and flicked the joint into the sink. “What happened?!”\n\n“Oh, so, there I was, thinking about my man Thomas, and then suddenly I was thinking about all of the bad things that dealer had done - he is definitely headed south when his time comes - and I saw this in his bag, so I grabbed it. And then I stuffed it in my diaper and thought about how much I love fruit loops for a little bit. And-“\n\n“Who’s Thomas?” Mommy clearly had a short attention span.\n\n“Thomas. Thomas the Tank Engine. He’s my friend. But anyways, so I was just, you know, me, and all of a sudden, I was like, well shit, Mrs. Evans used to be a stripper, and also commits tax fraud every year with her flower business. And it was all kind of hazy and random until about 10 minutes ago, and it all came together. And suddenly it wasn’t just off and on, it was full on, I’m full on, fully aware of myself. Things aren’t entirely concrete yet, but I’m getting the broad picture. Speaking of full, we’re going to need to deal with that soon.”\n\n“In a minute. What are you full on? What are you aware of? You just turned 6 today - this was NOT in any of the parenting books.”\n\n“Come on now Mommy, you can’t lie to me - you never really read any of the parenting books, now did you?” I lit the second spliff I’d rolled and surreptitiously blew smoke rings at the dog. “And I’m aware of a lot of things. Mostly lies. Lies and bad thoughts and bad actions and all the little things that build up over time and get put on the scales on judgement day. Biblical shit, man. And I thought I was 5? I was five, like, yesterday. What’s up with that, Mommy?”\n\n“It’s your birthday today. You were born on June 6, 6 years ago today.”\n\n“Huh, well isn’t that just apt.”\n\nMommy absentmindedly took a drag off the joint I offered her. It seemed to steady her nerves. “Apt?”\n“Well, 6-6-6? Satanic of me, isn’t it?”\n\n“What are you trying to say?”\n\nI sighed. I remembered Mommy as much smarter than this. “Mommy, you know the whole Jesus-immaculate-conception thing? Well... apparently when you’re carrying Satan reborn, it’s the opposite way. But don’t worry, I’ll make it up to you. After all, it might be the kingdom of heaven, but I’m the King of the Bottomless Pit, that definitely makes you the Queen of the Damned, or at least the Regent until I'm legal age, and that's pretty badass.”\nedit - all spacing went wonky, i fixed it" ]	2
	[WP] "I have loved you. I did my best."	[ "It had been about three years since the conception of their love. \n\n\"Surely you don't think our love has been flushed away yet?\" said Turk, the ill-fated and star-crossed lover who was beginning to feel the inevitable pangs of an unrequited affection. \n\nHis Love said nothing\n\n\"Fine,\" he said with a gaunt face and wet eyes, \"I suppose it was all going to shit anyway. I just-\" he started with tearful hesitance, \"I just didn't think all of this profound love would be a waste. That in the end, the extent of beauty in emotion would ultimately result in a spiral down the drains of a forgotten love.\"\n\nAgain, his Love said nothing.\n\nTurk asserted his reticence, wiping his face (and ass).\n\n\"Time to let you go,\" he said has he stood up, buttoning his pants and pushing the lever.\n\nAnd with that, the most precious poop he had ever created was gone forever; a fleeting memory of a transcendental love he knew would never hold in again, nor forget to cherish.", "I grab his shoulders, the familiar muscles in it forming to my fingers naturally. I look him in the eye, the blue showing nothing but sadness. \n\n\"I have loved you.\" I tell him, my voice shaking, remembering the first time we met. \n\nThe first time we met, it was at a bar. You bought me a light beer, and asked me to dance. I refused. You asked again.\n\n\"Then why are you doing this?\" he asks quietly, avoiding my eyes and clenching his hands. \"What did I do?\"\n\nI had been there that night with Kyle, he had needed a wingman, so there I was. You asked me to dance, for the third time, and I said yes. That night we kissed.\n\n\"You did nothing.\" I lift his chin up, and pull his forehead to mine instinctually. \n\nYou asked for my number after that night. Not for sex. Not for that, no. You asked my number so ten minutes after you left the bar, you could ask me out to a movie. I said yes, because I was enamoured, and so were you. We still are.\n\nJames pushes away from my face and crosses his arms, angry. \"Then what is it? Why?\"\n\n\"I... Look. You need to leave for work, half-way across the country. I can't do that, James. I can't leave with you. I have a family. Mom's alzheimers is getting worse, and dad can't handle it. My brother still hates me. You don't need this, you need better.\"\n\nWe watched some stupid romantic comedy, and you walked me home, since I only lived minutes away. I invited you in, but you refused. With a 'goodnight' you bid me goodbye, and called me after.\n\n\"I can find another job. I have a good degree, and I can help out with your parents. Quintin, please.\" he argues, his black hair falling over his face. \n\nYou acted like we were in the movie we just watched, calling me as you walked away, talking about how you just went on the best date of your life.\n\n\"I'm sorry, James. We've- we've tried this before...\" I sigh heavily, walking over to him and touch his cheek, kissing him. \"I just want you to be happy, and being with me isn't going to do that.\" \n\n\nI miss you.\n\nI miss us. \n\nI press my face up against his again, talking slowly. \"I am so sorry. I did my best.\"\n***\nwww.thearcherswriting.wordpress.com" ]	2
	[WP] He told me I was destined for this, but he never told what to do after I save the world.	[ "Hayden sat there on that rock for another hour, maybe more. The dry wind pushing dust from the south end of the valley almost had the light choked out of the day. It was time to go - we all knew it - but not one of us spoke up to say it. I wouldn't have dreamed it. So we sat there under the scraggly larch trees in silence.\n\nIn the dark night I woke to a sound like a dying mare, but muffled and distant. The warm wind pushed along the tops of the larch, rustling them. It was a pleasant sound - like home and warm pie in the fall - but the other sound of fear and anger and immeasurable grief sent shivers down my spine. I had never heard anything like it before and don't want to again.\n\nThere is a price to these things, they are not free. The wind in the larches and the moon on warm summer evenings like this come with a price. We work and we give and the world gives back. That's just how it is.\n\nThe next morning we set back down the hillside. Hayden did not speak or look at any of us through his red and wet eyes. It was like he wasn't there, we weren't there and none of this mattered at all. I knew it did and so did old Daryn Beldridge and Merit Thodon (who was leading the boy's horse back down on a long purple line) and both of them kept trying to tell him that too. \n\n\"There was no choice,\" Daryn told him, \"there wasn't time to do anything else. If there was, we would have. This is the only thing that we know works. You don't want them coming back do you?\" \n\nBut Hayden just stared off into the distance. I knew he didn't get it that day, and he wouldn't get it the next day - but someday he would know that it had all been worth something. There is a price to all things. We all pay a part of that price, some more than others.", "I... I did it.The ground shook beneath my feet as the monolith crashed down behind me. The Demon was dead, his empire in ruins, I had done it. I had saved the world.\n\n\nIt was ten years ago when the takeover occurred. I was just a child then. The mysterious man's face appeared all over the world simultaneously, grinning at us through out screens. What was his real name? No one knew, but he called himself The Demon. The USA was first, of course, followed by the other world powerhouses. They put up a fight, but were no match for his armies. Clad entirely in black, we couldn't tell whether they were man or machine, but goddamn were they powerful. The smaller nations surrendered to him when he came calling, knowing that if the most powerful militaries in the world didn't stand a chance, then what could they do?\n\n\nSo he claimed the world for himself. And the world, well, the world got bad. We didn't know exactly what he wanted, or what his master plans were, but the massive factories opened, spewing thick, black smoke into the sky. The once green fields and sunlit plains were now cold and dark. Millions died within the first two years, with billions more following.\n\n\nPeople were opposed to The Demon, of course. One such man was my father. After my mother was killed in one of his factories, he started a small gang with his friends. They would sneak out after dark, destroying his security cameras, laying waste to his soldiers, anything to get back at him. The movement gained momentum, and soon not just our colony, but the other colonies were beginning to rise up, with my father at the head.\n\n\nOne by one, we started taking cities back. We demolished the all the factories we could. The once harsh winds had become a gentle blessing once again, and the sun was able to shine down on our faces. We just had to keep pushing onwards, and we could have back the world we once knew.\n\n\nBut nothing good can last. The soldiers, stronger and more plentiful than before, attacked one stormy night. Nearly all of our troops, including my Father, were lost in the conflict.\n\n\nI had thought we were done; they beat us, The Demon won. Until a man stepped out from the darkness. He was old, and could barely speak, let alone stand. He held my hands in his, and looked me dead in the eyes.\n\n\n“Boy,” he rasped. “It's up to you to finish what your father started.” He was right. I had to lead us out of the darkness, it was my destiny. I assembled the best team I could, a mere twelve of us, to win this fight.\n\n\nAnd I did. We fought bravely. Some of us died, but we had to press onwards, for the world, for the humans, for our pride, and for my Father.\n\n\nIt took me two long years to get to him. The Demon stood across from me, at the top of his tower, waiting for me.\n\n\nI gave him Hell, and won. The Demon was dead. I had walked to his control panel and ordered every soldier to stand down, and every factory to cease. The view from the tower was beautiful, stretching far across the open plains, to the ruins of a city.\n\n\nThe door slid open and one of my companions walked up next to me. “We did it. We... we actually won!”\n\n\n“Yeah... we actually did,” I murmured. \n\n\nShe looked out at the view with me. “You know, I've tried to figure out what to do after this was done. The world is still a beautiful place, and I want to see it all! What are you going to do?”\n\n\nI had never planned that far ahead, and the old man never told me what to do after I fulfilled my destiny. What WAS I going to do?\n\n\nI thought for a moment. “I'm... I'm tired... I'm going home.”" ]	2
Resubmitting per mod instruction: Backstory on this painting's origin. By no means feel constrained by any of this info! Use it if you want, disregard it all completely if you choose! I just want the best possible backstory on this guy. I host a bi-weekly poker game of people that have known each other for many years. 12 of us are in a long running fantasy football league together as well and we can be pretty crazy about it. Anyway, one of my buddies owns a thrift store and he came across this painting and we both knew that it had to be hung in the poker room. Neither one of us could really explain why, we just knew that this guy is awesome and needed to watch over poker night. I would love an awesome backstory on this guy, whatever his name will turn out to be, so we can pass it on to all newcomers the game and league. This is my first time posting on this sub. Please forgive me if I'm doing it wrong. Thank you in advance! http://imgur.com/pJFK138.jpg	[WP] Give this man a backstory.	[ "His full name is Frederick Lazarus Dade III, aka Fred D, aka DDIII, aka Laz Daddy. Though he is more commonly known as Flash Daddy or, simply THE Flash.\n\nHe is from nowhere and everywhere. He has seen all that has ever been and all that will ever be. He knows when you are bluffing, and when you're holding pocket kings. He knows about your preposterous week 6 trade.\n\nGuess what, bitches? Denied!\n\nYou will try to contain Him, lock Him away. But know that He is everywhere. Do not resist.\n\nAre you being detained? No, you've always been detained and always will be. You just didn't know.\n\nEverywhere you go, everything you have, and everyone you love exists for Him. \n\nGo forth now and gaze upon your ginger god. Tremble before his omniscient eyes. And forever be thankful for Flash Daddy.\n\n\n\n", "I remember making the painting of this man. He was my friend, and it seems like it was only yesterday...\n\nHis name is Oliver MacMurphy. Strange one indeed, he always looked sad...like a man born in the wrong time of human history, like a barbarian being born today, or a scientist being born in the Middle Ages. He was smart, though, always told me a great story about something, with pinpoint historical accuracy!\n\nHaha! My favourite was one about a French peasant during the late 1700's. \n\nHe died, in 2003, unfortunately. Self immolation. I should of known something was wrong, telling me these fucked up stories, about the holocaust and the Serbian war in the 90's. He told me a story style I never heard before from him; one in the future setting, about..mass genocides, nuclear war, basically some really disturbing stuff. He told me about it while I was painting it. I should write a book about that last tale, it sounded so intense.\n\nBut it was set in 2017, so it will soon be like watching the movie 2012 today; it didn't happen, and it probably won't happen.\n\n....right?\n\n\n\n\nEdit: Wow, people liked this. Awesome\n" ]	2
	[WP] Scientists have discovered undeniable proof that god does not exist, and you are a famous Christian minister.	[ "The answer to everything. Seems unobtainable. Philosophers, mystics, and holy men have searched for the answer for time immemorial. The meaning of our existence. The underlying structure of the world in which we live. The why. The how. The Who.\n\nBut it was not the philosophers, the mystics, nor the holy men who found the answer. It was not a divine reckoning that gave humanity its long sought answer. No, it was math, and logic.\n\nA young Iranian mathematician, a woman, found the key. She found a way to place the first two pieces of a great puzzle. Connect the quantum mechanics of the very small with the general relativity of the very large. And in her doing so, the remainder of the puzzle fell into place. A humble minister such as myself does not understand such things, but the thousands of mathematicians and physicists who reviewed her work did. And the theory held its ground.\n\nIn school...so many years ago it seems...we learned that scientific statements were ones for which there was a method for them to be disproven. As a result, the statement \"God does not exist\" was unscientific. With no viable test, it was unprovable, and yet unable to be disproved. As if it sat in a realm outside that of logic and rationality. \n\nBut things changed. We now know the causes of the expanding and detracting of the universe. We know how to create and break the few fundamental forces that govern our world. We have learned that the lines between matter and energy are fluid, and that on a small scale, even entropy may be reversed. We know our past, and have models to predict the future. Nothing is hidden, there are no problems left of solve.\n\nAnd this is what bothers me. In exchanging our ignorance for knowledge, we lost out capacity to wonder, along with our curiosity and desire to explore, to create. By becoming our own gods, we have reached a climax of ingenuity. There is nothing left to discover. Some argue that but reaching our limits, we have in some way failed. By gaining all of the answers, we have lost the ability to ask questions.\n\nSome of the greatest scientific minds were men of the church. Mendel, Copernicus, the list goes on. Perhaps it was these men's logic and convention that was the root of their genius, but I don't believe so. I believe that it was their desire to experiment, to break the rules and see where it would take them. I intend to do the same.\n\nInstitutions of the past frouned upon the sciences as tools of exploration. But these shall be my greatest assets. I shall study for as long as I must to understand the most advanced of modern physics, chemistry, and mathematics. The knowledge and logic of science and reason, combined with the wisdom and dedication of philosophy and religion will guide me. I will strive forward, forging my own path into the unknown. I am young yet, and my mind and body are strong. \n\nPerhaps I will find what I am looking for, perhaps I shall find nothing. Perhaps, I will find something that I had never anticipated. I know not. Maybe it does not matter what I find, as long as I am looking. I believe that this is the truth of the matter. Perhaps the only real truth. Whether through mathematics or religion, we all seek the same answers to the same questions. \n\nWe all wish to wonder, and when our curiosity gets the better of us, we venture into the unknown. If the world has shown us anything, it is that all we know is an approximation, and that when we take the next step, it only presents us with a mor ecomplicated puzzle to solve. Perhaps when it appears that we have solved it, then we should reevaluate our strategy, and ask to whether we had really solved the problem we were looking to. Humanity will continue to search for answers, strive to solve problems, and look up in wonder. As long as we continue to do so, then we have not failed.", "Being raised a Christian, and subsequently becoming a god-fearing man and minister, the whole basis for who I am today came from the existence of God. Now, I don't know who I am. With the recent scientific discovery that there is no omnipotent being in the universe, I don't know where to go from here. It was easy to dismiss the findings, but being a reasonable man, I cannot shake off this discovery. \n\nI am one of the most popular speakers for Christianity, and I'm torn on what I should do. Do I denounce the faith that has been the basis for my very character and soul, or do I denounce the irrefutable evidence that has laid on my desk for nearly a week?\n\nFanatical sects of nearly all religions including Christian, Islamic, Hindu, etc. have quickly rejected the findings, but most major sects of these religions have embraced the findings and ultimately dissolved their congregations. Religion is effectively dead, all that is left is for the fanatics to fall away. \n\nAll these years, I have been unintentionally deceiving people into tithing their hard earned money, and preaching about a paradise awaiting them that likely does not exist given the evidence before me. I have not been this troubled in some time, and my urge to ask a higher power is stronger than ever. But, I cannot continue to deceive myself nor my followers. \n\nIt's time for a new age of humanity I suppose. A time when man only answers to themselves. It's unclear how mankind will determine morality and justice, my only hope is that the fear of punishment in the last days was not the only basis for determining what is right and what is wrong. \n\nI will address my flock tomorrow, and advise them that I will be stepping down and dissolving my church. Unintentional misdirection is one thing, but my conscience will not permit me to intentionally mislead the people who I have come to know and those that trust my every word. I only hope they understand my reasoning and my decision. " ]	2
	[WP] A thousand years ago, the wall was built.	[ "I stared up at the wall as the sun passed over it, dying the sky a bright orange. Its pristine white color seemed to dye itself a deep crimson as the sun passed, and the world succumbed to darkness for just a moment, as everyone lit their candles. Within the boundaries of the wall, there now were miniature suns covering the landscape, lighting every road. We lived in peace ever since the day our ancestors erected the wall. Not so much as a chip could be taken out of the wall, so nobody knew what it was made of. To this day, we live amongst each other within the walls, just thousands. Life was quiet, but good.\n\nHowever, just as the sky faded from a deep purple to the jet black I'm all so familiar with, the sky once again revealing no stars, a large CRASH rang out. I ran to the Western Wall, to see what had happened. Within the door, there stood a... man. Six men, actually. The first one was the man who caught my eye.\n\nHis eyes were a bright blue, reminiscent of the sky that blanketed us just minutes ago. His hair was a generic brown color and rather messy, but not unkempt. It went about down to his ears. However, what intrigued me was his clothing. He had donned a shining armor of a bright silver color, definitely steel. At his waist was a bejeweled scabbard decorated with red, blue, green, and gold colors. He held in one hand a long sword, one that looked in his hands like it was as light as a feather. \n\nHowever, I had no more time to look at that, as next thing I knew, it was pretty much pointed up my nose. \n\n\"You! Where is the Evil Emperor?\" He asked.\n\n\"E-Evil... Emperor? What do you mean?\" I responded, and evidently, he didn't like that answer.\n\n\"DON'T FUCK WITH ME!\" He shouted, and the small crowd that had gathered all covered their ears as the shout reverberated with its superb volume not fading. \"I know you're in league with him. I need to kill him to complete the quest!\" He shouted.\n\nQuest?\n\n___\n/r/Charman/", "Mendar was on patrol. The rain was falling steadily, endlessly. At least he wasn't in the mud below, he thought. The stone was white, clean, beautifully hewn. Through expertly designed drains, the water slipped right down, a gift to those below.\n\nThere were no lights approaching in the distance. There never were. And yet, one thousand men each night were responsible for patrolling the top of this wall. The insulated city, beneath the perpetual rain, seemed to gasp for air. Was his wife warm, he wondered? His children? Had they got the fire going? Miserable twigs wouldn't last for long, he knew.\n\nSighing, he turned out again, to the endless expanse of land. A thousand years it had stood, this suffocating wall, and no enemy approach had ever been recorded. Was it the desert waste that surrounded them that they were trying to keep out? Mendar didn't know, but this was his duty, and he was a man. He would fulfill it.", "Startled by some gravel which found its way down the cliffside, Zarek's short legs jumped a foot off the ground and landed in a puddle. \"Tell me again why we're 'ere.\" he sighed. They had been traveling for weeks in the heat of mid summer. Though recently, a cold breeze had begun howling between the treetops. \"You know perfectly well why we are here.\" Due to his abnormally tall legs, Osellas looked like an undernourished giant in comparison to his companion. On the other hand, they made for effortless traversing through the uneven terrain. Complaining about his soaking wet boots, Zarek sat down on a stone. \"Do ye even know where we're going?\" He struggled to remove the brown leather boots from his swollen feet. Osellas knew better than to quarrel with his companion and seated himself on a nearby fallen log. Reaching out his hand, a pale red firefly landed on his pinky. \"This little guy,\" he said confidently. \"We're followin' beetles now?\" A displeased look on Zarek's face told Osellas he ought to chose his next words carefully. \"You have to trust me on this, my friend.\" The woodlands never appealed to Zarek, who'd lived most of his life as a merchant in the capital, and he grew grumpier by the minute. With a loud grunt he put his boots back on. As the firefly took flight once more, Osellas pulled himself from the log with the help of his walking stick. Thoroughly annoyed with the grunting and sighing of Zarek, he rubbed his forehead with his fingertips. Relieved he was when signs of snow appeared at their feet. The air had grown significantly colder in just the past few hours, and Osellas' peaked ears had already started to burn with irritation. Trees were still many, alas more dead than alive.\n\n\n\"We're here.\" Osellas smiled at Zarek, determined. As he pulled his hood back, golden braids fell down on his chest. Simultaneously, they gazed upward in awe. A tower of bricks white as the snow around them shot up to the skies, like a beam of light emerging from the earth. Statues and elegant ornaments in the walls surrounding the tower would let visitors know the architect surely was not messing around. What a shame a bigger portion of the walls had been ravaged. It seemed like nobody had been living here for many ages. Zarek followed Osellas through the broken portcullis, toward the colossal, white tower. His once fiery beard was now covered with frost. There was only a huge, black gap where the doors to the tower should have been. As the two companions approached the entrance, the firefly went up in smoke in a poof. Zarek jumped and pulled his two shiny daggers, sweat dripping from his forehead. His heart was racing. \"We agreed ye'd warn me o' these things, ye fuckin'...\" Osellas couldn't do anything but chuckle. \"Loosen up, my short friend. Nobody has come here in forever except for us,\" he said while taking the first step inside.\n\n\n\"What is this place anyway?\" Zarek inquired. \"What was this place is a better question.\" Osellas pulled a luminescent crystal from his backpack, placed it firmly in a socket at the top of his walking stick, and walked down a set of stairs with Zarek at his heels. \"Once, this was the seat of the lords of winter. One of the most advanced structures of their time.\" A tall pillar stood in the middle of the tower, reaching far below into darkness. Zarek looked cautiously through the rail with wonder. \"The four winter lords were seated in this very structure?\" Osellas nodded. The staircase seemed to go on forever down into darkness. \"More than a thousand years ago that was, during the dark ages. The god of death, Ragnor ak Eldïn, still roamed the world. Ravaging, murdering...\" Osellas paused for a second, taking a breath. \"...Devouring.\" Zarek swallowed some air as they reached the bottom level, coughed, and gasped for more air. \"That is, of course, until he was imprisoned by the winter lords. A thousand years ago.\" With his short legs, Zarek had problems keeping up as Osellas picked up his pace. Through a hall and a gateway, the two stood at the entrance to a large, round chamber. A black portion of the wall stood out amid the marble. Zarek was pulling a fat, dusty book filled with runes out from his backpack when he heard a whisper. \"You do not belong here... Leave.\" The book fell from his fingers and hit the marble floor with a loud thunk. \"Death linger in this chamber,\" Osellas said, picking up the book from the floor. It grew pitch black while he replaced the current crystal on his walking stick with a red one. Approaching the center of the room, the red crystal blazed with fire, and Osellas inserted the staff in a floor socket. With great force the two companions were thrown back off of their feet! A tree of fire emerged from the staff, the heat almost unbearable. The sound of fire raged throughout the chamber, and one after another, braziers around the room were lit up by the fire. Once all were lit, the crystal fell of the staff and landed by Zarek's face.\n\n\nOsellas and Zarek struggled to get up on their feet again. The chamber was silent again, with the exception of crackling noises from the braziers. Slowly the companions approached the black wall of the chamber, and leaned in with their ears first. A loud growl filled the chamber. \"It is as I believed,\" Osellas announced through a whisper. Zarek looked at Osellas both bewildered and frightened. \"What're ye talking of?\" With a solemn look on his face, Osellas' eyes met Zarek's.\n\n\n\"He's awake.\"", "Karys walked along the old stone wall. Her arms clutched around the basket full of the mornings harvest. She was counting her blessings all the time, that sweet old lady. She'd take those juicy tomatoes, and those succulent potatoes down to the market, all the while following that wall. \n\nShe still remembered the first, and only time, she had tested it's boundary. It was one of those long days, when the summer sun lingered over head, and dropped it's decadent rays across the land. She felt fully saturated in the heat before too long, and sweat was running down her brow. She looked across that thousand year old (or so they say) wall, and could see the trees in the distance swaying, and the grass in the ground on the other side dancing in the wind. She longed to feel that breeze, so she reached out. \n\nHer hand met the slightest of resistance, but she kept reaching, grasping for that sweet air on the other side. All at once, though, her whole arm felt as if it were struck by lightning. She snapped her arm back. The pain was jarring, but not so much as what she saw afterwards. At the borderline of the trees on the other side, where the grass ended, and the forest began to cast it's shadows, she saw what the wall was made to keep out. All thoughts of the pain she felt were washed away in the tides of fear. Terror gripped her simple heart. She ran away that day, and neglected the afternoon's work, as she cowered in her hut.\n\nShe still keeps her eyes firmly on the ground in front of her, even when she walks right next to that wall.", "“The Wall of Manderoth,” the professor droned as he walked along the nature trail towards the base of the Wall, “was built approximately 1,000 years ago. Can anyone tell me why?” He stopped and turned to look at the class. Student bumped into student as the struggled to hide themselves from his gaze. He finally settled his gaze on Adam Cornerstone. “Mr. Cornerstone?”\n\nAdam felt himself shrink slightly as he realized that he had been noticed. Puffing his chest out he answered with a grin, “To keep everyone else out?” \n\nGiggles were heard through the class as Professor Tumbelskin felt a small smile twitching at the corner of his lips. Adam acted like an idiot, but even an idiot can be accidentally wrong. “Correct, Mr. Cornerstone.” He then actually smiled when he saw Adam deflate slightly in realizing that his poor joke had actually been truth. Turning he looked back up at the Wall.\n\nThe Wall of Manderoth really was impressive. It rose to over 200 feet tall, and did not deviate from that height its entire length around the country. The Wall had been built with Ancient Construction Magic; crude by today’s standards, but very effective. Wards had been placed along the entire length of the structure, preventing most magic from being useful nearby. Even long range attacks were mostly useless as the wards negated any destruction magic fired at the Wall. \n\n“Why did we need to keep everyone else out?” Professor Tumbleskin asked as he rubbed his sagging cheeks. After a few moments, when no one answered, he sighed quietly to himself. He missed Juliet Faircloth, his prize student who had done wonderful work on Temporal Disturbances in the Forsaken Lands. She had always jumped at the chance to answer questions. However, certain pleasures were allowed when students refused to answer. \n\nTurning around, he stared hard at Adam again, watching the young man slowly shrink, fearful that he was about to be called on again. Professor Tumbleskin smiled, and then quickly shifted his gaze over to a mousy young woman with sand colored hair, “Ms. Silverstream?”\n\nClara Silverstream squeaked slightly before stuttering an answer, “B-because w-we didn’t w-w-want magic?”\n\nTumbleskin smiled, “Basically correct, Ms. Silverstream.” He turned back towards the Wall and began striding forward, and giggled quietly to himself as he heard his students try and keep up. Without turning, he continued lecturing, “The rulers who ordered the Wall’s construction were at a very important part of magical history. Basically, there were very few laws and rules governing the use of magic. This led to incidents such as the Wizard Duel in 1114 that created the Forsaken Lands, as well as the Bread Famine of 1122.” He turned to look at his students, “Who can tell me about the Bread Famine?”\n\nThis time one of the students actually raised a hand and Professor Tumbleskin gratefully called on him. Mark Stonesmith began talking excitedly, “The Bread Famine was started by a Dwarf and an Elf arguing over who had better magic: the dwarves, with their reliance on crystals, or the elves, who relied on the tree spirits of their land.” He paused a moment to breathe, “The duel started out simply enough, with basic spells and enchantments, however it soon escalated.”\n\nProfessor Tumbleskin, feeling hopeful, interrupted, “And how was that, Mr. Stonesmith?”\n\nMark paused a few moments to breathe again and said, “The enchantments began getting wild and out of control: mirrors everywhere began insulting people’s faces, clothing, hairstyles, and more; doors refused to open unless they were paid; and finally, bread everywhere turned into stone.”\n\nProfessor Tumbleskin smiled, “Correct, Mr. Stonesmith, very good. After the Stone Bread enchantment, a simple parlor trick used in college pranks, the duel was terminated with prejudice by the police who had just sat down for lunch. Unfortunately, since both wizards were uh,” he coughed, “indisposed, the enchantment had to wear off naturally. As we saw with the Forsaken Lands duel, it could take years. Every loaf of bread made afterwards in a fifteen mile radius for the next two years turned to stone upon its completion.”\n\nWhile they had been talking, they had slowly been getting closer, and closer to the enormous Wall in front of them. The progression had seemed slight at first, but as they talked it grew more and more obvious that the Wall was getting bigger. Professor Tumbleskin noticed that a young man and an old woman were standing at the foot of the Wall arguing. Deciding against getting involved in a domestic dispute, he began guiding his students down a separate trail in order to avoid meeting the two warring parties.\n\nTurning back momentarily to insure his students followed, he continued, “These were just a few of the duels and issues that led to the Walls construction. First, diplomacy was tried, and we were granted the Wizard Dueling Rules and Guidelines. These helped lessen the damage done by the duels; however they still frequently got out of control.” \n\nHe breathed deeply for a moment, the long walk starting to get to him. “There were other incidents, such as the High Cliffs Incident which sunk several of our trade vessels. Also, most of the duels seemed to be taking place on our turf. Humans are less capable with magic than elves and dwarves, so we began to assume that they were coming here to fight, since the fights would last longer.”\n\nComing up to the Wall, Professor Tumbleskin noted with some frustration that the arguing couple was much closer than he hoped they would be. Apparently the path he had taken had curved back towards them, rather than away. Sighing in frustration, and the knowledge that some of his students would have an even more divided attention, he asked, “So who knows what happened next?”\n\nMark Stonesmith raised his hand and was called upon, “They built the wall?”\n\n“Correct,” Professor Tumbleskin said, “They built the Wall. It took approximately 50 years, and many disputes were had over the actual borders of the countries while the wall was being built. Who can name me one?” A few minutes of near-silence passed as he waited patiently for someone to speak. When no one did, he offered, “The Orc Silk War is one. What happened there?”\n\nWill Winterfield raised his hand, “Was that the one where the Orcs refused to buy any more of our silk unless we moved the Wall?”\n\nProfessor Tumbleskin sighed, “Yes, basically. When we said that we didn’t care, they declared war to try and make us move the Wall. It was the first real test of the Wall’s might, and it succeeded beautifully. Not a single stone was knocked out of place by their attacks, and they lost several hundred of their Feathered Warriors.” He smiled, “We lost one man, and only because he fell down the stairs.” He looked around at his students, “What else?”\n\n“The Elven Tree Massacre,” said Adam Cornerstone.\n\nProfessor Tumbleskin frowned, “While that could be considered a part of the conflict, I am not sure it counts. The elves cut down hundreds of trees around the Wall in order to hinder our magic, but we don’t draw magic in the same way they do, so it did nothing.” He smiled, “We later offered to pay them for removing the trees. They were not amused.” He looked around again, “What else?”\n\nWhen, after several moments, no one answered he held up his hands in defeat, “Fine, there were several other conflicts. We had two wars with the Dwarves over the mountain range we annexed and one conflict with the Goblins over a rock.” He saw eyebrows raise and confused looks across several of the students, so he shrugged, “We never figured that one out either. The rock is still there: a black stone about 5 feet square. They stopped fighting when we promised to not touch it.”\n\nMotioning towards the Wall, Professor Tumbleskin smiled, “The Wall, through all of this, has never been damaged in the slightest. Even when the Dragon Revolt tried to destroy part of it, they failed. It has stood as a testament to human ingenuity, and persistence. It has also helped cut down on the damage caused by magic, and allowed fo—“\n\nA huge explosion interrupted him and all the students turned in horror towards the source of the noise. Pebbles and small rocks began raining down around them and they covered their heads and retreated back under the trees. As the dust began to settle, they saw the arguing couple standing by an enormous hole in the Wall.", "It went up around the city like fungus growing from rotting wood after a storm. One day there was nothing; the next the wooden barriers had begun to go up. By the time the sun set on the first day it was fifteen feet high, a ring around Old Town with only one gate.\n\n\nThat was named the God Gate and we lived and died in its shadow.\n\n\nExtract from The Collected Histories of Aguon by Gillard Willman. (Many of his writings were later dismissed as lunacy)\n\n\n\n-----------------------\n\n\nNara had left the centre of Old Town at dawn, creeping past her mother and sisters so as not to wake them. With five in a room it was stiflingly hot even in midwinter, but as soon as she stepped outside the tenement slum which they shared with forty other families, she became overwhelmingly aware of how cold it was. Nara's breath caught on the early morning wind as she made her way south-west, towards the God Gate. If you got there early enough in the morning, you could eat. \n\n\nThe shadow of the wall stretched over her as soon as she crossed Midway and moved into the better half of town. Even that was an overstatement. Beggars sat by the roadside, hands stretched for coins or food. Once upon a time you would have seen rats scurry over those too weak to move. Not any more. All the choicest rats had been eaten. A couple of the beggars had stumps in place of limbs, rotting and festering in the squalor in which they lived. One man leaned towards Nara as she strayed too close, grasping at her as she passed. \n\n\n\"I don't have anything.\" Nara gasped. \"I've got five others to feed at home.\" \n\n\n\"Such pretty fingers,\" the man said. \"Make a good meal.\" \n\n\nShe recoiled from him as he spoke. Finger stew, they called it. Downway was famous for it-- the reek of something which wasn't quite pork, seeping out of the tenement houses built like lean-tos in the worst parts of the walled city. None of her sisters would have to sell their fingers while Nara could still walk and work. \n\n\nSoon the God gate loomed above her; dark despite the sun beginning to rise over the top of the wall. That hadn't been manned in the fifteen years Nara had been alive, but still no-one tried to climb it. Habit ran too deep in the walled city. A small knot of tired people stood clumped together at the entrance to one of the doors. The Gate had five, all of which were supposed to be kept closed. Nara's mother had named her five daughters after the five doors of the God gate, in the hope that it would bring them luck. \n\n\n\nSo far it hadn't. \n\n\n\nThe people clustered around the gate were swapping food between hands. One man looked up when he saw Nara. \n\n\n\"It's our favourite door,\" he said jokingly. Nara was named after the door which was opened at dawn by those who smuggled food into the city. That was her kind of luck. \n\n\n\"Got any food Harry?\" She asked. He was tall, aged prematurely by starvation, but he still had all his limbs. The remnants of scars on his arms showed he had been caught for smuggling once before. \n\n\n\"Couple of cats here. Skinned and all... You can imagine them rabbits if you cook them well enough.\" \n\n\n\"Thanks. Usual price?\" \n\n\n\"Usual price.\" \n\n\n\"I'll come round later,\" Nara said. \"When they're all asleep again. I don't want...\" \n\n\n\n\"Your sisters to know. I get it.\" \n\n\nNara smiled, turning to leave. \n\n\n\"Hey, hang on.\" Harry called out for her. As she spun towards him, he tossed her a bread roll, still warm from the oven. It steamed as she held it, curling in the cold air. \n\n\n\"What do I have to do for this?\" She asked, fear rising in her stomach. \n\n\n\"Nothing,\" Harry said. \"It's a gift. Enjoy it.\"\n\n\nNara tucked the bread inside her shirt. The God Gate loomed above her; named because it chose who lived and who died in the walled city. Today would not be her death day. And no one would have to make finger stew today. \n\n\n\n--------------\n\n/r/Schoolgirlerror for shits and giggles " ]	6
	[WP] The person commenting on every post on /r/writingprompts is warning us of something. Describe the battle between them and the bot deleting the posts.	[ ">All non-story replies should only be made as a reply to this post rather than a top-level comment.\n\n\"Fucking hell...\" Barry was sick of seeing the same message over and over again.\n\nF5\n\nNew prompt\n\n>All non-story replies should only be made as a reply to this post rather than a top-level comment.\n\nRepeat.\n\nBarry had enough of this and decided to make a graphic sex baby with Larry." ]	1
	[WP] You're a Professional Group Therapist in a mental hospital and you're beginning to suspect that two of your patients are robots.	[ "The day wore on as I sat across from Mary and Frank, looking at their faces trying to perceive some tick, something that may give them away. They stared back, blinking and breathing, just like humans tend to. I coolly took a sip from my Styrofoam cup of tea.\n\n\"So what else has been on your mind?\" I said.\n\nMary blinked. \"I was hoping you would be ready to lead us in discussion today.\"\n\n\"Well, how have you been enjoying your time here?\" I said.\n\n\"It's been rather enjoyable and rewarding I feel like I'm learning quite a bit.\" blinked Mary.\n\nDespite being a robot, Mary was one of my most promising clients. She had reformed significantly since whatever event had put her in here. It was in her file, but I try not to read those, they tend to get me in trouble. I heard a whirring noise come from across the room and I looked up, but I had missed it. Frank sat as he ever did, placidly. If my theory is correct, most likely doing his computations on some great machination.\n\n\"How about yourself?\" blinked Mary.\n\n\"Much the same, I feel that each day we're able to break new ground. I'm especially proud of your improvement.\" I said.\n\n\"Thank you.\" blinked Mary.\n\n\"What would you say your goal is for this month?\" I said.\n\nI'm afraid I didn't listen to her response at all. The whirring returned, but this time I saw it with my own eyes. Frank's eye's whirred in his head and from a slot in his hand, a paper receipt was printed. I saw the gears. Vindicated at last. I had kept this from the staff for so long but with this proof, we may be able to disassemble them to understand. I couldn't give it up just yet though. Mary looked at me quizzically as the silence hung heavily in the air.\n\n\"Hello? You seem to have spaced out.\" blinked Mary.\n\n\"Oh I'm sorry, I was just considering what you had said. What about yourself Frank?\" I said.\n\n\"Who is Frank?\" said Mary.", "\"Phil,\" Dr. Hall said, \"why do you think Robert believes everyone is trying to offline him?\"\n\n\"Because he's crazy,\" Phil said.\n\n\"Now, Phil,\" Dr. Hall said. \"We don't use the c-word here. You know that?\"\n\n\"Which one?\" Phil asked. \"'Cunt'?\"\n\nThe two patients tried to cover up their snickers.\n\n\"No,\" Dr. Hall sighed and corrected, \"The other word.\"\n\n\"Oh, that one,\" Phil said. \"'Crazy'.\"\n\nSnickering.\n\nDr. Hall pushed up her glasses. \"Very funny, Phil,\" she said. \"Your attempts to fill the comedian role is, I suspect, due to the misery your parents suffered in their poverty and mutually abusive relationship. Thus, you try to make everyone laugh like you tried to make your parents laugh.\"\n\nPhil's face didn't drop, though. Instead, he retorted with, \"Your obvious psychoanalytical bullshit is because you, Doc, think you know how the world and other people think, because you're just a know-it-all with a fake title.\"\n\n\"I assure, Phil,\" Dr. Hall said. \"My status as Doctor is very real.\"\n\n\"Oh yeah?\" Robert finally spoke up. \"Then why are you in here with us?\"\n\nDr. Hall turned to address Robert. \"Because I am a doctor for this institution, and it is my task to help the both of you heal, along with everyone else.\"\n\n\"Doesn't change the fact that you're crazy, Doc,\" Phil retorted.\n\nAgain, Dr. Hall pushed up her glasses. \"They say all psychologists are crazy.\"\n\n\"Yeah? I may be a robot, Doc, but at least I'm not crazy.\"\n\n\"Phil,\" Dr. Hall said. \"Listen to yourself.\"\n\nPhil moved his arms in a mechanical motion. \"Beep boop beep, destroy all humans.\" He looked to Robert. \"Hey, robo-buddy?\"\n\nRobert shrugged. \"I was made to serve intergalactic overlords in an eternal, peaceful capacity, Phil, if that's the persona you choose. I am merely a servant in human skin. I do not hold an opinion.\"\n\nDr. Hall sighed. \"Neither of you are robots, Phil, Robert,\" she said. \"That's just your illness.\"\n\n\"Really?\" Both patients said at the same time.\n\n\"Yes, really.\"\n\n\"Hey, Robert,\" Phil said. \"Scan my brain with that scanner-thingy of yours. What am I thinking about?\"\n\n\"Of course, Phil,\" Robert said. \"You're thinking about sticking that disguised organic appendage on your crotch that's really your power cord into the nearest electrical outlet to get a charge. You're a jack-onner.\"\n\n\"Yeah, Roboert?\" Phil replied. \"Well, I got one of those scanny-thingies, too.\" He put his hand over his head and turned it like a radar. \"Let's see... Beep boop...\"\n\nDr. Hall interrupted. \"You two...\"\n\nPhil ignored her. \"Wow, Roboert. Did you seriously get your cyberballs off this morning when Nurse Joyce inserted that flash drive into her computer?\"\n\n\"What? No, of course not!\" Robert said a little too loudly. \"I am designed to be above such base things.\"\n\n\"Uh-huh,\" Phil said. \"I'm also detecting, hmm...\" He waved his hand back and forth over his head. \"You're thinking about flicking the back hallway's light switch until you give the bulbs an orgasmic overload, exploding them.\"\n\n\"Phil,\" Dr. Hall said. \"Robert. If you would please kindly.\" The two patients stared back at her. \"Phil, everyone saw Robert, er, this morning, okay? Of course your heard about it.\"\n\nPhil grinned at Robert, anyways.\n\n\"Also, Robert,\" Dr. Hall said. \"Everyone knows you like flicking the light-switches. We have cameras. People talk.\"\n\n\"People,\" Robert scoffed.\n\n\"That,\" Phil said, \"Robert, is one thing we can agree on.\"\n\nThe door opened. Dr. Sandoval came in, and immediately surveyed the situation. \n\n\"Robert, Phil, Marilyn,\" Dr. Sandoval addressed them all in order. \"You know this room is off-limits to patients.\"\n\nPhil pointed at Marilyn, otherwise known as Dr. Hall to the other residents. \"She started it!\" he said. \"She's psychoanalyzing people again, Doc. Tell her, Doc. Tell her.\"\n\nDr. Sandoval sighed. \"Marilyn, have you taken your meds today?\"\n\nMarilyn looked uncomfortable. \"No... They tasty nasty.\"\n\nDr. Sandoval looked over glasses at her. \"It isn't good that you're thinking you're staff again, Marilyn. We discussed this.\"\n\nMarilyn pointed frantically at Robert and Phil. \"But they're robots and they don't even know it!\"\n\n\"Oh,\" Phil said. \"Now she thinks we're robots. Eh, Roboert?\"\n\n\"Speak for yourself,\" Robert said and stood up. \"I was only pretending to make you sound like a fool, Phil. I'm not the crazy. You're both crazy, though. You and Marilyn. I'm just here because the courts say so.\"\n\n\"Gentlemen,\" Dr. Sandoval said. \"Marilyn. Do the floor and the staff a favor and return to your rooms. Dinner service will be here soon. I hear they'll be Salisbury steak.\"\n\nRobert leapt up. \"Steak!\" And darted out of the room, muttering, \"Blood blood blood,\" all the way to his room.\n\nMarilyn looked up at Dr. Sandoval. \"There's no blood in Salisbury steak, Doctor.\"\n\n\"Yes,\" Dr. Sandoval pushed his glasses up. \"I'm well aware, Marilyn. Now...\" He waved them out of the room. \"Let's try to avoid having meetings like this again in the future, all right?\"\n\nPhil walked stiffly out of the room first. \"Beep boop, Doc, I do as my master commands.\"\n\nDr. Sandoval shook his head. \"Marilyn?\"\n\n\"He's crazy!\" she protested.\n\n\"I...\" Dr. Sandoval said. \"We don't use the c-word in here, you know that, Marilyn.\" He waved outside the door again. \"If you please...\"\n\nMarilyn hung her head as she exited the room.\n\nDr. Sandoval returned to the nursing station, and picked up a clipboard, starting to take notes.\n\n\"Murphy,\" the head nurse, Hadly, said. \"You know you're not allowed in the nursing station. No patients are.\"", "The clock on the wall said 3:41. We had been sitting in a silent circle for almost four whole minutes.\n\nI reached to the table next to me and picked up my styrofoam cup. Still warm with coffee, I held it in my hands for a moment as I looked around the group. Silence can be uncomfortable, but I have found it can also be a useful tool.\n\nJack, a new member of our group, interrupted the silence.\n\n\"What is the purpose of this?\" he asked. \"In other words, what is it we are supposed to be gaining from this?\"\n\nJack had only been in group for three weeks. He had brought his friend, Robert, and neither of them spoke much. Although when they did speak, they were inquisitive. Suspiciously so.\n\n\"Well,\" I said, keeping my voice low. \"Sometimes it's important to allow everyone room to speak on their experience. Often, we can find ourselves claiming space for those who might identify as being in a minority group.\" I was annoyed, but I tried to hide it.\n\n\"Minority group.\" Robert said. It wasn't a question, and not really a statement. It sounded like he was memorizing those words.\n\n\"Yes,\" I said. \"Remember last week, we discussed group dynamics, and some might take the one-up stance, while others take the one-down.\"\n\nRobert and Jack nodded. It was weird. They nodded together, but not just at the same time. They nodded... synchronously. \n\nNaiya, a girl in her late 20s, raised her hand.\n\n\"Yes, Naiya?\" I asked.\n\n\"I would like to share something.\" She replied quietly. I was grateful. Naiya was of Middle Eastern descent. Given her cultural background, her ethnicity, and her gender, she very often took a one-down stance to her counterparts.\n\n\"Yes, please, Naiya, the floor is yours.\"\n\nJack was staring intently at Naiya. His blue eyes seemed to probe hers. Robert, on the other hand, was slowly looking around the room. His head seemed to turn so gracefully, as if it were floating.\n\n\"Well,\" Naiya said. \"I have noticed recently that I have been getting less at meal time. I told the lunch guy I was pregnant last week, like we spoke about, and since then I feel like he's intentionally hurting me.\"\n\n\"Ah,\" I said, making a note. Naiya has fears about the lunch hour. Speak to Frank?. \n\n\"Sounds like you're experiencing a confusing situation and you're unsure about your place at lunch.\" I said. \"Perhaps--\" Robert cut me off.\n\n\"Do you think it's about your baby?\" He asked. His voice was monotone. He was curious, but it sounded forced. Naiya looked at him.\n\n\"N-no.\" She said shyly, glancing at me. \"What do you mean?\" Jack took over.\n\n\"Maybe Frank wants you to lose your child.\" Jack said, matter-of-fact. I raised my voice.\n\n\"Jack, let's let Naiya tell us what she thinks that means--\" I stated. Robert cut in again.\n\n\"Perhaps your child is a threat to the future of the human race.\" Robert said. Both Robert and Jack were looking at Naiya emotionless. I had enough.\n\n\"Robert, Jack, why don't we end for today? I'll talk to you both in your individual sessions tomorrow.\"\n\nJack turned and looked at me, his eyes boring a hole in my head. \n\n\"No.\" He said.\n\n\"Excuse me?\" I asked. Naiya shrunk back in her chair, pleading with us to calm down. I stood.\n\n\"Both of you leave. Now.\" I was going to get to the bottom of this.\n\nJack and Robert stood. I didn't realize how tall they were until now. They both stepped toward me. I was scared. Instinctively, I threw my clipboard at them. Jack batted it away, and they both kept advancing. Suddenly, the doors opened, and two nurses rushed in with a security guard in tow. \n\nThe nurses grabbed my arms, pulling me away. The security guard stepped in front of both Jack and Robert, keeping them at bay. I was grateful for the intervention.\n\nThe nurses pulled me back and sat me down, hard. I looked up at them, pulling my arms toward my body.\n\n\"Thank you, both, I'm fine--\" They caught my arm, and pulled it back out. I tried pulling them back in, with no luck. I tried standing, and one of the nurses shoved me back down.\n\n\"What is the meaning of this? I'm fine!\" I insisted. I tried standing again, and the nurses called the guard over. They stood me up, and I could hear the chair move away from me. With a hard shove, I found myself with my back against the floor, my head having hit the tile.\n\n\"Stop!\" I yelled. What was happening?\n\n\"Stop, please!\" I yelled again. \"Help me! Please help!\"\n\nI looked at the group, who were all standing now, watching. I struggled, and could feel a sharp pain in my side. A needle. I lost it. I kicked and swung my legs, the security guard doing his best to avoid it. I felt myself be pulled up to my feet, and rushed to the door. I leapt, using the nurses as leverage, and kicked at the doors, but to no avail.\n\nSwiftly, they moved me down the hall way. I screamed at bystanders, asking them for help. The security guard lifted his radio.\n\n\"Inmate 747. Phillips, Alex. Please open door 747.\" He barked into the radio.\n\nI could hear gears turning, that metal-on-metal grinding as a solid steel door slid open. The nurses pushed me in. I couldn't understand what was happening, but I could feel the effects of the shot they gave me. I felt weak, subdued. I felt tired.\n\nThey lowered me to a concrete frame with a thin mattress. It wasn't much, but I was exhausted.\n\nI watched as the nurses and guard exited the room, the heavy steel door closing behind them.\n" ]	3
This was posted a few hours ago by someone, but it seems the original prompt has since been deleted	[WP] It’s discovered that the Earth’s core is made of yolk.	[ "\"Surely you don't mean...\"\n\n\"But I do.\" he said, \"And all it implies.\"\n\nAs if fate itself had heard him, a giant pair of hands encircled the earth, lifted it out of orbit in a manner that caused the oceans to populate a single hemisphere, and then cracked it against the moon with such force that the tectonic plates to separated completely.\n\nThen there was darkness. And the sound of a pan frying.", "The invasion fleet hovered over the Earth. Deep inside the mothership, the chicken-like commander stared darkly at the planet.\n\n\"Are the Planetary Core-Beaters ready?\" he asked his crew.\n\n\"Yes, sir,\" one of the crew replied. \"How do you like your planets, sir?\"\n\nHe replied with the most evil of smiles.\n\n\"Extra crispy, with ALL the yellow.\"", "When the first core samples were taken and analyzed, the world was astounded. How would this new information affect humanity? What did this mean about the origin of the universe? And how many cupcakes do you think we could we bake with all of that yolk?\n\nAfter further testing determined that the first study was not in fact, a fluke, the world started to hypothesize. They considered everything from quantum mechanics to coincidence. But as the years passed, and lives continued like they always had, after they realized it wasn’t cost effective to siphon core yolk to the surface, humanity moved on to explore more potentially advantageous mysteries. \n\nThousands of years passed. The Earth’s core makeup was not exactly forgot, but humanity had more pressing matters to deal with. Those who had not left the planet for greener worlds spent their energies on survival, not discovery and research. \n\nTens of thousands of years passed. The Earth was starting to break. Quakes shook every continent, and giant chasms swallowed whole communities. By this time, the ones who had left their mother Earth so long ago had forgotten her, and what was left of humanity on the planet’s surface was indistinguishable from what it once was.\n\nOne literal earth-shattering crack was finally the end. Half of the planet broke off and smashed into the moon, while the other half was sent hurtling away from the sun. Those few who had survived the initial fracture were soon doomed to the vicious storm that swept across the surface. Its winds were strong enough to turn mountains to dust. Moments before the last wretched survivors met their fate, they helplessly watched the heavens as a writhing form, filling the entire sky and more, uncoiled from below the Earth’s horizon. Its glistening hide circled the world and a maw large enough to swallow planets opened. Even above the deafening sounds of a dying planet, the last shreds of humanity heard its unholy screech. \n", "“This isn’t good,” Jessica muttered to her monitor. The team of researchers occupying the basement lab continued to tap on their keyboards and stare at their computer screens in obliviousness. “This isn’t…oh lord this isn’t good.” \n\nShe reached for her phone but knocked it off her desk. Instead of retreating the blinking device, she kept staring at her monitor. “Oh sweet Jesus, this isn’t good.” \n\n“What?” I demanded. Clipboard in hand, clicking my pen, my glasses halfway down my nose, I assumed what I hoped was an intimidating tone. “What is it now, Jessica?” \n\n“Look at these readings, Tom,” she said, jabbing a trembling finger at her data. “You see this?” \n\nI squinted at her monitor. “I see…something. Wait, are these the new core readings? I didn’t think they were ready to process. Not what we expected at all, hum. Interesting!” \n\n“Yeah. Great. Interesting. Now look at this.” Her fingers tripped over themselves as she pulled up an aviary website with a giant egg in the center. “Okay. You see the makeup of this egg here? Got it?” She split the screen, pulling up our new data. “Now compare it to our core sample.” \n\nI blinked, my eyes shifting from one site to the other. “I…” \n\n“It’s the same, Tom, damn it! The Earth’s core has the same chemical composition as egg yolk!” \n\nThat brought a few heads up. Graduate students surviving on coffee, youth and adrenaline. I doubted many of them had seen sunlight in days. They stared over in discomfort, then at each other. My lead graduate student snickered. Instead of engaging them, I grabbed Jessica by the arm and dragged her into our tiny break room near the main door. \n\n“Then the data’s wrong,” I said. \n\n“I checked it five times,” she whispered, glancing over her shoulder at the muttering students. “Look, I know you think I shouldn’t be here. I know you think I’m a worthless PhD candidate, but I’m not wrong about this! The Earth’s core is made out of yoke.” \n\n“That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard. You really think that’s what the data shows? Someone’s hacking our system and fucking with us.” \n\n“I ran the data back to the source. It’s coming straight from the probe.” \n\n“Then the probe is malfunctioning.” \n\n“What if it’s not? What if something’s actually down there?” \n\nI scoffed. “What, you mean like an embryo?” \n\nJessica bit her lip, her eyes dancing in their sockets. The stale stench of old coffee stung my nostrils, brown stains from clumsy, overworked students covering the plain white table and chairs. “Maybe.” She shook her head. “The only way to know for sure is to send the probe deeper.” \n\n“It can’t survive at those pressures for long.” \n\n“And if there is something down there, and it hatches?” \n\n“Someone needs to verify your data before we do anything. Like, five people need to verify your data.” \n\n“Great,” she said, stepping back. “Let’s get to it.” \n\nA week passed. Scientists around the world poured their time and brains into cracking the secret of the Earth’s core. Aviary experts were called in to consult. Soon the world’s scientists reached consensus. The Earth’s core was filled with yolk. And the chemical composition showed a creature close to hatching. \n\nAfter verifying Jessica’s work in the first few hours, I spent the next week drinking and sleeping with every pretty grad student I could find. If a monster was gestating under our feet, what did anything matter? Politicians did their best to keep this story quiet, but news soon leaked out. From then on, everyone talked about somehow aborting the embryo. Could we nuke it? Poison it somehow? A combination of electricity and poison was finally selected by the UN Security Council. It fell to my probe to go deeper. To give humanity a glimpse of the creature lurking below. The next probe would deliver the poison and electrocute anything left behind. \n\n“How close can you get?” General Halder asked from behind my desk. The entire operation had transferred to Los Alamos National Labs under strict military control. They hadn’t let me drink or fuck in three days. \n\n“Depends on how much pressure the probe can take. We might not even get a look at the thing.” I hesitated. “Hopefully there’s nothing there to see.” \n\n“Proceed,” the general commanded. \n\nRadar and sonar images from the probe covered the entirety of the front wall, rising three stories overhead. Hundreds of military and civilian personnel bustled from work station to office, heavy machinery whirling in the background. It was quite an upgrade from the university’s tiny basement lab. I sent the probe forward, commanding its sensors to transmit. \n\nThe first ping revealed something big to the west. Mutters and murmurs met this as the room stilled. Faces turned to the first images on the screen. \nThe fetus lay curled like all creatures inside an egg. Yet even in this position, I could see the outline of massive claws and what looked like the curvature of wings. A bony point crowned the top of its head, and as more images filled the screen, I started counting arms. I stopped at eight. General Halder swallowed hard, his blue eyes wild. \n\n\"How big is it?\" \n\nI checked my system and swallowed hard. \"It's the size of South America, General.\" \n\nHe absorbed this without changing expression. “Is it alive?” \n\nAs if in answer to his question, the fetus bucked, sending rippling waves back towards the probe. The signal blurred, then went dark. \n\nIt was possible to hear the drip of a coffee machine from fifty feet away. No one moved. We stood or sat like corpses awaiting our turn at dissection. Finally General Halder picked up a phone. \n\n“Get me the president. Tell him we’re going to need a new plan.” \n" ]	4
Was inspired to create this after reading a book called Many Worlds	[WP] Today is the biggest day of your life. Someone you didn't expect is going to screw it up. Who screws it up and how?	[ "Today is the day I will cure all known diseases. \n\nRobert woke up as he normally does: half six in the morning with his alarm clock playing his favorite song. He crept downstairs hoping to avoid waking his wife, she had taken the day off to support him at work and because of that she didn't need to be up for a couple more hours. Robert set about making himself a coffee as he didn't think he could handle food as his stomach was already full of butterflies. While slowly sipping on his coffee Robert thought about how he had made the cure for all known diseases. It was a bit of a headache to think about it even now. So many hours and so many people pouring their heart and minds into this project to create a single syringe full of a golden liquid that might change the world. Today they would test the syringe. If it does indeed cure the patient then they would mass manufacture it. Robert finished his coffee and his thoughts and got ready for work. \n\n* * \n\nRobert was standing in the theater, there was an unconscious patient on the operating table, many eyes staring down at him from above and his helpers for this task standing next to him. The only person he recognized in the crowd above was his wife. Standing next to him were his two best friends Steve and Tony. Tony was incredibly intelligent and without him they most likely would not have been able to make the syringe currently resting in Steve's hands. Steve was passionate and an incredibly hard worker, while he wasn't as intelligent as Tony he was able to brute force most problems through sheer force of will. One big problem with Steve was that he was incredibly clumsy. \n\n'Pass me the syringe will you Steve?' Tony asked holding his hand out to Steve\n\n'Sure' Steve replied extending his hand. Everything seemed to go in slow motion at that point as Robert remembered Steve's extreme clumsiness and why out of all the people present he was entrusted to such an important item. As Steve stepped around Robert to pass the syringe to Tony he stumbled over the air. Roberts mouth opened in horror and Tony's eyes widened. \n\n'Wow that was close' Steve said nonchalantly as he straightened up. Robert and Tony looked at each other and then Tony snatched the syringe from Steve to prevent it from further harm. Tony held the syringe up to the light to see if there was any damage to it and as he viewed it it slipped from his sweaty grasp.\n\n'Oops' Tony said.\n", "I was thrilled to be finally graduating. After six years, working part time and taking all the classes I could manage, I was finally getting my degree. I could leave the burger flipping job for a professional job, that involved suits & ties, and enough money to buy nice things. Including a house with a yard, to let my dog Puppy have roaming space. He was named by my 3-year old cousin, whose dog he was before they decided they couldn't handle him. Puppy had been my supporter throughout this journey, cheering me up when I was exhausted and ensuring I got up in time for the early morning classes, and someone to hug after coming home late at night. My parents would finally be forced to acknowledge that I was not a failure.\n\nI woke up early on the morning of graduation. Early enough to go for a morning jog with Puppy before donning the cap and gown. After a jog and a shower, I glanced at the clock, and realized I only had 5 minutes to get dressed and out the door. Puppy was jumping up with excitement, clearly feeling how excited I was. As I was pulling on my pants, a badly timed jump knocked me right over. A sudden pain in my arm lead me to scream. Which caused Puppy to freak out. Poor thing, I didn't mean to startle him, and of course he didn't mean to knock me over. And that is how I spent my graduation day in the ER getting a full arm cast, instead of walking in my cap and gown. The broken elbow healed, and graduation really wasn't about walking and hearing the clapping and cheering, it was about the degree and the job afterward.\n\n A mostly true story. Puppy lived to a ripe old age, and loved the huge back yard of the house I bought 2 years after graduation. He is buried under a dogwood tree in the backyard." ]	2
	[WP] Everyone gets a bracelet that will light up more and more the closer they get to the person/thing that will kill them. Yours has never glowed. One day, you meet a person whose bracelet has never stopped glowing.	[ "I'm not really sure why I was given something that looks so bland. My whole graduating class 60 years back was given these bracelets for \"good measure\". The purpose of these bracelets are to shine when something would potentially threaten our life. Problem is, mine hasn't shined at all for the 60 years I have been out of high school. I could either be a lucky man, or this bracelet is a total fraud - with the ladder beginning to seem like the more realistic option. I suppose I lost nothing from owning this bracelet except for the fact that I've been wearing a tacky accessory for 60 years.\n\nI'm only concerned about this bracelet right now because my highschool reunion is tomorrow. I'm a fairly superstitious person, which is why I've kept this bracelet on for 60 years straight without fail. However, I do not want to show up to the reunion and seem childish for wearing something that is now so dated, especially if it turns out that it didn't work for anybody else. I'll just ditch it for this one day, I don't want to seem like the same dork I was in the past. \n\n--\nEntering my old school, familiar faces are all I see. Jenny, Andrew, John, Richard, and all of the others have not changed one bit. However, I don't see Kayla anywhere, which is weird because she is the type of person to be ecstatic to come to these events. She's way too joyful to miss something like this. I decide to ask the group about her. \n\n\"Kayla? Yeah, she's here! She just went to the bathroom, she'll be back soon.\"\n\n\"Oh, great! I was beginning to think she didn't show up at all.\"\n\nCatching up with the crew was great - all of our lives seem to have gone the way we wanted them to, ending up successful by our own terms. I wanted to leave already - the reunion didn't really live up to my expectations - but I wanted to see Kayla before I left, so I stuck around a bit. \n\nEventually, Kayla made herself present, and I rushed on over to greet her.\n\n\"Kayla! How's it going!? I haven't seen you in forever!\"\n\n\"Eric! I'm so glad to see you!\" \n\nAs Kayla approached me, I couldn't help but notice something glowing around her wrist. Shit, that's right, the bracelets. I take a quick glance around the room and notice that nobody besides Kayla is wearing the bracelets we were given.\n\n\"How's life been Kayla? Is everything okay?\"\n\n\"Everything is fine! I started my own business and it's so successful! I have never been happier in my entire life.\"\n\n\"That's great to hear! I have a small question for you though - you see the bracelet on your wrist?\"\n\n\"Oh, this ol' thing? Yeah, it's kind of pretty. I know it's very old and probably embarrassing to wear, but it shines a pretty color that I've just grown to adore. I basically don't leave the house without it!\"\n\n\"You mean to tell me that it's always shining in that color?\"\n\n\"Yes!\"\n\nOdd. Hers always shines while mine has never shone once. I dismissed the oddity and quickly decided that these bracelets were in fact busted. \n\nI wrap things up with Kayla and tell her to take care. As I enter my house, I look at the bracelet I left on the dining room table. Still nothing. I guess it's time to put it away for good since it has no practical use anymore.\n\nAs it approaches midnight, I get ready for bed. It's a very calm time for me, being alone and all. My phone, however, abruptly rings. It's a phone call from Andrew. \n\n\"Hey man - we need you here asap.\"\n\n\"Why, what's up?\"\n\n\"Just come back to the reunion quick.\"\n\nI make my way back to the school in a rush to see a crowd, an ambulance, and some police cars around the school. Dead in the center is Kayla, faded of life. Richard approaches me, informing me that soon after she and I talked, she disappeared. Only until after the reunion finished did everybody find Kayla lying on the floor, devoid of life.\n\nHe then tells me something I've never known about Kayla - her history of depression, which has never escaped her life. Had I known that, the conversation she and I held would have instead saved her life. \n\n(this is my first time writing here, I'm not sure if I did well or what)", "I\n\n“Hey you, haven’t seen you all night. Too busy getting wasted with your frat buddies?”\n\n“I drink. I go to parties. That's me. What’s your excuse? I thought frat parties were a means with which the patriarchy oppresses women. Not really your scene, Emma.”\n\n“Can you not? Just because I’m a gender studies major, my god. I like parties. Parties are fun.”\n\n“You still having fun at 3:30 am?”\n\n“Nah, just waiting around to sober up. What’s your excuse?”\n\n“Oh… I’m always up this late.”\n\n“Are you serious?! Like every weekend?”\n\n“Every day, actually. I don’t really do sleep.”\n\n“Rob. How is that even possible?! You play varsity sports, you’re in my 8 am physics lab… ”\n\n“I survive.” \n\n\"Good to know my friend's either a superhero or a cyborg.\"\n\nII\n\n“Emma?”\n\n“Yeah. …you okay, Rob?”\n\n“Can we go to my room?”\n\n“Why, cause you need someone to take care of you after you puke, or cause you want to hook up? Either way, probably not my favorite thing to do.”\n\n“Neither, I promise. I just want to…show you something.”\n\n“Okay. Are you sure nothing’s wrong? Now I’m scared there’s a dead body in your bathroom or something.”\n\n“Nothing like that. You just have to promise to never tell anyone else.” \n\n“…I promise.”\n\nIII\n\n“Shit, Rob, what’s making it glow?”\n\n“Me.”\n\n“What? How?”\n\n“It’s always been like this. Literally never stops glowing unless I take it off. Why do you think I never wore it?”\n\n“I…I thought you just wanted to look like a daredevil.”\n\n“I’m not a daredevil, Emma.”\n\n“Look, it’s got to be a mistake. Send it back. Have it tested.”\n\n“Did that in second grade. That was when my parents got me a dog.”\n\n“…this means, means you’re going to…”\n\n“Kill myself, yes. Apparently so.”\n\n“No. That’s not possible. You're Rob. You wouldn’t choose to kill yourself.”\n\n“I know it’s possible. I see it happen every time I go to sleep. Cliffs, ropes, pills, guns. My subconscious is persistent, if not creative.”\n\n“Oh god. That’s why you don’t sleep.”\n\n“Bingo.”\n\n“You, you can’t let it freak you out like this. It’ll probably be...when you’re really old, you know. Like you’re really old and Alzheimer’s is starting to set in and you want to end it on your own terms. There’s nothing wrong with that, right?”\n\n“I don’t know, Emma.”\n\n“I don’t know either.”\n\n“I’m sorry.”\n\n“Me too.”\n\nIV\n\nEmma woke up disoriented. She was in a bed, but not hers. Rob’s? She vaguely remembered tears and hugs and drifting in and out of wakefulness. Someone had covered her with a blanket and taken off her shoes. Rob’s room, yes. He was already gone, probably off on a morning walk. His bracelet sat on the desk, inches from her face, glowing faintly. So he wasn’t close. Maybe at the gym, or getting coffee, but it didn’t matter. Emma watched the red light slowly grow brighter. Quietly, with a sense of peace, she removed her own bracelet, dull gray as always, and left it on the desk. On her own wrist she slipped Rob’s bracelet, and as it began to grow brighter, she straightened the bedcovers and left.\n", "It was the light everyone looked out for. Some dreaded seeing it, some were waiting for it, preparing themselves. She was one of the ones who didn't quite know. Her bracelet had never glowed. Not even a little bit. She always had her eye on it. Every time she met someone new, as she passed anyone in the street, whenever she entered a new place or she encountered anything she never had before. \n\nIt had been the same for a couple of people she knew. Her mother's bracelet, for one, hadn't lit up until she died. She had been hit by tourists in their car. Therefore, Alice tried not to worry about hers. She knew death was unavoidable anyway. She had seen it countless times. She'd met a guy who thought he could dodge death by throwing the knife set to kill him in the ocean. He'd slipped as he was doing so and hit his head on a rock, dying instantly.\n\nThe day she met Noah, she immediately saw his bracelet glowing strongly as she shook his hand. She let go of him and jumped back. He didn't react, but she was too panicked to notice it. He only smiled.\n\n\"No, no, it's okay. It's always glowing.\"\n\nShe looked at him with wide eyes, but he only shrugged.\n\n\"It's always been like this.\"\n\nHe smiled, but his eyes remained sad. She thought it was a bit odd. She didn't give it much thought, though, and smiled back.\n\nThey hit it off nicely. They decided to get coffee a bit later and exchanged phone numbers.\n\nHe was there before she arrived at the coffee shop, and she apologized for being late. He smiled, but still there was sadness in his blue eyes. \n\nShe tried to dance around the subject, but eventually her curiosity won over. \n\n\"Why do you think your bracelet is always glowing? I mean, you don't have to answer, but I can't imagine how scary that must be.\"\n\nHe shrugged.\n\n\"I figure maybe it's the ground. Maybe I'll fall off of somewhere high. Or the air, maybe I'll have an air embolism or something. I used to think about it a lot, but now I don't really. I mean, what's the point?\"\n\nShe nodded.\n\n\"That makes sense. Sorry for asking.\"\n\nHe waved her concerns off, and the date continued on. Everything did seem a bit more awkward after that, though, and as she walked back home she felt quite guilty. She got her phone out and texted him that she was sorry and she shouldn't have asked.\n\nHe answered her text about two hours later. \"It's not your fault.\" She felt a bit better, and texted back \"Thanks\". \n\nIt took him seven minutes to find the courage to jump. He looked at the scars lining his arms. The razor blade hadn't been what made his bracelet glow. Neither had the pills, or the rope.\n\nIronically, his bracelet broke under him when he hit the ground." ]	3
	[WP] "Sorry to bother you sir, but the Queen has just declared war on France. Again."	[ "\"What do you suggest we do Mr. President?\" My boys ask, expecting my all knowing wisdom to be bestowed upon them. It's not an easy job, but this seems to be way easier than the other crap I had to do. Back to what I was thinking about. So the queen declared war on the French again. Fuck, what was the date it was declared? I got a huge bet with Congress on when it would happen again. If it was within the last two days, I win the right to declare a war on any country I want. This time, the US Fuckin' A is joining in the war, rather than last time where we just sold guns to everyone.\n\n\"When was this declared, boyo?\" I ask, anticipation building in my perfect groin. \n\n\n\"About a day and a half ago. We didn't want to bother you while you were in the middle of working on the trade agreements.\" They reply, as I make a mental backflip in my head. I already know what to do, and so does most of the military. What would these poor schmucks do without their supreme leader? I tell my boys to tell Congress that I won, and that I want this to be the war. They won't get it, but Congress will know. Oh they'll know. As soon as they leave the room, I scoot my chair back and look downwards with a smile.\n\n\n\"Oi, Monica, stop what you are doing babe. It's presidenting time!\" I say, as I tear off my suit, displaying my chiseled six pack under it. Monica hands me my super suit, and asks me a question while wiping off her face.\n\n\n\"Hey Bill, who are we going to support in the war?\" She says as she wipes the last remnants of my Freedom fluids from her face.\n\n\n\"Easy answer toots\" I start, as I begin placing my sunglasses on alongside an extra large trojan condom under my super suit. Last time I forgot to wear it while fighting, it caused a population boom in China. \n\n\n\"We are going with the French. Britain looks like it could use some liberatin'. Eagle! Come! We have a country in dire need of FREEDOM!\" I shout as I jump out of the window, summoning my trusty genetically modified animal sidekick. Next stop, Britain.", "The Permanent Secretary looked up from his desk, pinching the bridge of his nose with marked irritation. He rubbed it vigorously, setting down the fountain pen where he'd been annotating a few missives. Email was the future, but the monarchy rested in the security of the past. He liked the feel of a pen in his hands.\n\n\"I see,\" he acknowledged, rising from his desk. The younger man nodded, and turned neatly, leaving through the large, elegant doors of the private office. Straightening his tie, the Secretary edged past the polished mahogany of the desk, and made his way to his private door, slipping his keycard against the waiting identifier to gain passage.\n\n With peerless serenity, he drifted through the palace, down the stairs, past guards and guardsmen, to the control centre. He showed his card, used the retinal scan at the door and closed it behind him in near silence. \n\nThe monarch was stood in the centre of the room, grinding out a cigarette, watching the drama unfold on multiple screens. On the far wall, computer screens displayed the latest readouts and data, all manned by service personnel. Technicians read the situations and adapted, as the flashing red flights whirled, combining with the 1980s decor and stale, regulated air to create an eerie, industrial atmosphere. Beside the Queen, at her call, were members of COBRA. The First Sea Lord, the head of MI:5, even the Colonel of 22 SAS were all stood, waiting for her instructions.\n\n\"Your majesty,\" the Secretary began. \"I hope I'm not disturbing, but I was informed you had decided to declare war on France.\"\n\n\"Indeed,\" the Queen turned, manic glint in her eye. \"How else am I supposed to expand our sphere of influence?\"\n\n\"Well, with respect, m'am, trade agreements may be more effective...\"\n\nThe Queen turned. \"That would take years. One does not have years. One requires results.\" She paused. \"How are our allies responding?\"\n\n\"Positively, m'am,\" the First Sea Lord replied. \"With the exception of India. They're threatening a nuclear option.\"\n\n\"Then they shall die too.\" She turned to the technician manning the station. \"Are we in place?\"\n\n\"Yes, m'am.\"\n\n\"Then end turn.\" She turned away from her game of Civilization. In the far corner, Crusader Kings II continued, but she seemed more interested in the Call of Duty battle her grandson was engaged in. \"First Sea Lord, you have control. France still has Catapults, so they should be a walkover. For now, I think I shall watch Harry own some noobs...\"" ]	2
	[WP] The CDC is struggling to contain a new virus that shares many symptoms with the common cold, as well as causing sporadic loss of short term memory.	[ "First submission and I am not a writer, be nice:\n\nDr. Pamela Jenkins was the director of clinical research at the Children’s Healthcare of Atlanta. There had been a sudden influx of children with cold-like symptoms coupled with a severe headaches that almost incapacitated the poor kids, and rendered them unable to complete a coherent sentence. \n\nShaking off the last of her migraine and finishing her afternoon coffee, strong and black as usual, Pamela realized she was completely lost. She had the overwhelming sense that she was where she was supposed to be, but she did not recognize this lab. \n\n“Something isn’t right here,” she thought aloud. “The paint colors are wrong or maybe the lighting is different?”\n\nShe definitely didn’t recognize the thick-framed man staring at her intently. There were deep wrinkles above his nose from seemingly trying to mate his eyebrows and lower them to his cheeks.\n\nWith his head slightly tilted he lowered his glasses and asked “Pamela, right? Are you okay? Do you have my samples?” \n\n“Samples? How-how do you know my name? Where am I?” she asked shakily. “What is your name?”\n\n“I‘m Dr. Schutz, you were bringing me six more samples of the viral D-147 from CHoA. You were here this morning. Call me Dennis.” She could see the concern drench his face and his words were drawn out and spoken slowly as he was trying to coax her memory back from its temporary departure. \n\n“Oh, right, heh.” she said with nervous laughter, but still not remembering. She did however remember working at the Children’s Healthcare of Atlanta. She would routinely bring samples over to the CDC, but she did not recognize Dr. Schutz or this particular lab. “Nice to meet you, again.” She extended her right hand as she reminded herself to squeeze firmly, as she had to do with every handshake.\n\n“Now, the samples?” Dennis asked hastily. “I almost have the vaccines complete. I hope with these samples of the virus I can have the antigen finished in another day and we can get rid of this worrisome bug before more of your children are affected.” Pamela considered all of the kids at CHoA as her own, maybe fueled by the fact she couldn’t actually have children.\n\n“Right here, Dennis.” She passed over the aluminum container, that closely resembled a soup thermos. “Do you mind if I to sit for a bit? I think I am having another migraine.” She took a seat in the lab chair as she massaged each temple with only her index fingers.\n\nDr. Schutz gloved his large hands and eagerly opened the sample case and went to work carefully removing the first of the sample vials. He placed each vial inside the open centrifuge on his benchtop, started the machine, and set the timer for 3.25 hours. He made a notation in his lab notebook: “2:42PM Centrifuge started, 3.25 h– Final 6 samples; CHoA; Vaccine creation for D-147 – D. Schutz\n\n“What, wait. What-am-I-doing-here?” Pamela asked, her confusion obvious. Her voice broke his silent concentration. \n\n“You just dropped off some samples, remember? Dr. Jenkins, I think you need some rest.”\n\n“Samples, no. The last thing I remember is waking up this morning. Then I got this terrible headache! Wait, what were the samples for?”\n\nDennis reached out and placed the back of his hand on her slightly sweaty forehead. “I think you have a fever, Pamela, you really should go get checked out. The samples were for the D-147 variant of the recent viral outbreak.”\n\n“Right, right. No, I remember the virus. I think I just need some rest, ” she said, “I think I’ll just go home for the day.” She slowly got to her feet, and exited the CDC vaccination lab. \n\nDennis glanced at his watch, then at his notes. “About three more hours in the centrifuge,” he thought, “I could use a nap myself. I haven’t slept in three days.” He waddled to his office, took his glasses off, and found a seat in his favorite desk chair. He propped his feet on his desk and let the memory of the last days’ work lull him to sleep. \n\n BEEP BEEP BEEP! BEEP BEEP BEEP! BEEP BEEP BEEP!\n\nThe alarm from the centrifuge startled Dr. Schutz from his sleep. His headache was pounding, almost louder than that incessant noise. As he rose, he realized he didn’t remember falling asleep in his office. He stumbled to the centrifuge, trying to remember his past few hours. He stopped the alarm and picked up his lab notebook. He was more puzzled than ever when he read the last entry : 2:42PM Centrifuge started, 3.25 h– Final 6 samples; CHoA; Vaccine creation for D-147 – D. Schutz\n\n“I don’t remember starting these at all! I don’t even remember being at the final stage of the vaccine creation,” he thought, “I must have been very tired. I haven’t been sleeping enought lately.” He shook off his headache and looked into the centrifuge still baffled. Inside were six 150 mL vials, cleanly separated at about the 50 mL mark. “Great!” he yelled to no one,“the final vaccines are ready and I don’t even remember finishing them.” \n\nHe carefully decanted the top 100 mL layer off each vial and placed the virus into a clean flask. He then mixed the flask with saline water and stabilizers. With 600 mL of the virus, Dennis created 12,000 “vaccines.” \n", "\"*ACHOOOOO!!\"\n\nWoken up by my nose, head throbbing, and the all too familiar feeling of my throat being filleted by a butcher knife.\n\nYes, I'm definitely sick. \n\nI sit up from the couch and I'm overtaken with the feeling of thirst. I notice on the table in front of me a few cups of half-drunk water, but I don't remember which one's mine so I make my way to the kitchen to get a new cup. \n\nMy house is a fucking mess. Not the kind of mess you see after having a house party, but the kind of mess that can only happen after months of neglect. I really need to take out the vacuum, and give this place a good clean... but not right now, right now I need water.\n\nI get to the kitchen, and look for a glass. I can only find one that is clean enough to use. This is very unlike me. I'm normally on top of my dirty dishes, but my head hurts too much to really give this any thought, and there's no way I can focus enough to clean with this constant headache. \n\nI grab the glass and force it under the tap, filling it to the brink. I chug back the water inside, and fill up the glass again. I'm just so thirsty, my mouth feels like the Sahara Desert! Once I finish my second glass of water, I fill it up for the third time, and take another sip. I look up at the ceiling and scowl, as if to god for making me feel this way. Then the thought crosses my mind, Terry.\n\nMy golden retriever. He must be starving! I can't remember the last time I fed him! I finish the rest of the water, and grab the bag of dog kibble from under the sink. I go to pour the food in his dish, but it's full. He hasn't eaten any of it. It doesn't look like it's been touched in days.\n\n\"Terry!\" I call. \"Come here boy! Come get your food!\"\n\nI cough hard into my arm, and look around in bewilderment as my eyes water from the force of the cough. Nothing. He's not coming. \n\n\"Terry!!\"* I yell again. But still, nothing. \n\nI drop the bag of dog kibble, and begin to look for my dog. I traverse the dusty halls of my house periodically calling out his name. \"Terry! Are you there boy? Terry?!!\" but he doesn't come. As I approach my bedroom a overwhelming smell reaches my nose. It's a sweet, sickly smell that becomes more pungent with every step closer to my bedroom. I turn the corner into my room and see the lifeless body of Terry staring back at me. I run to him, and grab him in my arms.His golden hair is matted and cold. His tongue has slipped out of his mouth, and his body has begun to decompose. He looks to have been there for at least a week. The smell is so overpowering I drop Terry to the ground, and violently vomit beside me.\n\nAs I get up, I notice more vomit stains on the carpet. Similar in size, and colour to the vomit I just produced. What is going on? What is happening here? How long have I been out on that couch. The headache is getting worse now. I stumble out of my room, bumping into the walls of the hallway as I make my way to the living room. \n\nI grab the television remote, and turn it on. Most of the channel's are out. A lot of them are playing the emergency broadcast signal. What has happened? I frantically click through the channels but it's becoming harder, and harder to focus. I finally reach a channel playing an emergency news bulletin. I can't really narrow in on what it's saying as my headache has reached critical proportions.\n\n\"Forget-me Knot Virus....CDC urges you stay inside.....Short-term memory loss.....DO NOT operate a vehicle\"\n\nI'm on my knees throttling the TV trying to make sense of what I'm hearing. Have I become infected with this virus they're talking about? Have I lost my short term memory? How long have I been ill for? How many times have I had to relive the death of my dog? Will I get better? I need to lay down. I need to lay down and give this some more thought. If I just close my eyes for a bit, I can maybe get rid of this headache. \n\nI get up from the floor, and lay down on my couch. I stare up at the ceiling then close my eyes. This will all be better soon...\n\n\n\"*ACHOOOOO!!*\"\n\nWoken up by my nose, head throbbing, and the all too familiar feeling of my throat being filleted by a butcher knife.\n\nYes, I'm definitely sick. " ]	2
	[WP] Humanity has finally cured it's need to sleep with a very cheap, easily manufactured pill. It only took 5 years for the side effects to become apparent.	[ "What were we thinking anyways. Ok, we had our problems but they weren't so bad, right? Not compared to this anyway. \nI stopped menstruating if you really wanna know, some months ago already, so did mom by the way, she won't admit it though, but I know. Don't think I should tell dad, Hhe's sad enough as it is. Yesterday Gabriel asked him where the colours went and why everything looked like grandpa movies. Poor boy, wonder if he senses it, the misery I mean, in our voices, eyes. At least we chose our demise, Gabi didn't have that choice. Why the hell did we feed him those things in any case?! not like we needed him running around at night as well, not like we needed him to pull 16 hour shifts as well. That's another thing. Why in the name of Jesus Christ of Nazareth did we start using these pills if they would make us work more anyways!? White people... and their chemical surprises. At least it wasn't the Americans this time. Those Germans, effectively ending western civilisation as we know it... again, only this time they'll succeed. And all it took to seduce the world was a french name -HA! what a joke! Réveil® by Noxxon Pharma, talking about länglich-munter! \nThanks a lot Franz - See you in hell. ", "Sleep. Something I think we all took for granted. Pills, drinks, even different types of foods; we had an infinite number of ways to stay awake, to avoid sleep. \nLittle did we know.\nAt first it came in a bottle. For a small price of ten credits, about a weeks salary for most one could evade sleep for close to four days. No side effects, besides a deep sleep on the final day. Then followed stronger and stronger versions and finally, when it had been developed, an immunization. A pill delivered en mass. And for the world sleep was just a myth.\nAt first, we attributed it and them to drug use. Strange reports about creatures and vivid hallucinations. Visions of a world so unlike ours it was driving people into madness. Disturbing to be sure, but nothing to worry about. What did the good people of the world have to fear about the disillusioned?\nBut when the first of us died, these problems became very real.\nThe media called it an 'Awakening', believing that these creatures we were seeing had been here the whole time, hidden beneath the earth's crust. Scientists disagreed; few of them had the characteristics of burrowing creatures. Most of us believed they were aliens, or perhaps invaders form another dimension. Either way there was little we could do against them.\nWhat was our military to do against monsters that appeared and disappeared with but a moments notice? What were guns against twelve-armed monstrosities? Those of us who no longer slept were doomed. And it felt Humanity couldn't stand a chance.\nBut there were some. South Africa. North Korea. Russia. Places where sleep still occurred. Repressed, yes, but they learned quickly to take away sleep represents. They had no problems with these other-worlders. But when we found out, it was too late. These beings manifested themselves so vividly within our subconscious and in our minds, that we made them into reality. They followed the sleepless.\nRubble. Chaos. Our cities have been reduced to almost nothing. We railed against it and against them to be sure. It never matter. In the end, well all knew, this was some twisted play of fate, something we had forced upon ourselves. Those monsters roam the streets, searching for us. For another victim.", "I told my brother it wasn't a good idea. But as usual, he brushed my warnings away like an irritating fly. I stood over his wailing, thrashing form, tears streaming down my face.\n\nWhen Insomniak became available on the market, there was a huge rush. The pharmacy's were sold out for weeks. There was no separation of day and night. Stores were open 24 hours and admittedly, it was good. unemployment was down because overnight shifts became available for stores that once closed by nightfall. \n\nBut it was unnatural. It was strange. I didn't see the advantage to being awake all the time. It felt like the stimulation would drive me nuts. \n\nI felt my pocket buzzed as I sat at the small scrub table in my kitchen, tousel haired and my eyes still full of sleep. My brother stood at the fridge; it was his fourth year of taking Insomniak and he hadn't slept since. \n\n\"I Don't know why you won't try it, sis. It's amazing.\" He said, shoving an entire hardboiled egg into his mouth. \n\n\"Hmm...\" I replied, staring at the screen of my smartphone. This was probably the 150th time Taylor had talked about Inomniak.\n\nMe and Bailey are meeting at 4am tomorrow. Are you in? A message from my friend Dave read. I rolled my eyes. It was 12:30 in the afternoon and I planned on being asleep at 4am. \n\nPeople had no concept of time any more. Had I read this message 5 years ago, I would have told them they were crazy. Time meant nothing any more. I was let go from my job because I refused to take Insomniak to work 20 hour shifts. No sleep meant no rest periods. There wasn't a reason to rest when you were awake all the time. No excuse of tiredness existed any more. \n\n\"Come onnn Just try it once!\" Taylor said, shaking the bottle of blue and white pills under my nose. I jumped, I hadn't even realized he was standing behind me. \n\n\"Come off it Taylor I don't want it!\" I said, pushing the bottle away and standing up. The chair squealed across the tile floor. I glared at him and immediately took a step back. \"Taylor... What's wrong with your eyes?\" I said, horrified. \n\nThe write park of Taylor's eyes was stained a deep red. They looked almost black. \n\n\"Nothing! They're fine.\" He said dismissively, pocketing the bottle of pills. I stared at him concernedly. \n\n\"Taylor you don't seem right. There's something off about you. And I don't mean your eyes....\" I said. And now that I studied him, his appearance seemed wan and unkempt. His sandy hair seemed to be thinning and he appeared paler than usual. \"Why don't you skip a dose and just sleep for a couple of hours.\" I pleaded. \n\n\"No, I have stuff to do today.\" He said simply, and he turned towards the pantry and pulled the door forcefully open. He stepped inside and slammed it shut. I stared. A second later the door swung open again, and Taylor stood there, looking confused. \n\n\"Where did the living room go?\" He mused, staring around. \"Oh, hey Liz, have you tried Insomniak? It's fantastic.\" He said, as if seeing me for the first time. \n\nMy mouth fell open. \n\n\"Taylor... You need to rest.\" I said, taking his arm and pulling him out of the walk in pantry. He pulled his arm forcefully away and glared at me, his black scleras giving him an almost demonic appearance. \n\n\"GET OFF OF ME HOW DARE YOU TOUCH ME!\" He bellowed, cradling his arm as if I had injured it. \n\n\"Please, Taylor just stay home today. We can watch TV and just relax.\" I begged, my voice breaking with anxiety. I reached for his hand again. Taylor let out a howl and all of a sudden I was on the floor. Taylor had punched me square in the jaw. \n\n\"WHAT DID YOU DO THAT FOR?\" I screamed, tears streaming down my face, rubbing my cheek gingerly. Taylor stormed back into the pantry and slammed the door again. A minute passed as I pulled myself to my feet. The pantry opened again, slowly this time. And Taylor stood framed in the door. His expression was blank. \n\n\"T-Taylor?\" I squeaked, backing away. He didn't acknowledge me. he took a tiny step forward, still cradling his arm. I saw with horror that his arm had turned a deep purple from the spot where I had touched it with my hand. \"P-Please say s-something.\"\n\nAnd without warning Taylor fell forward, stiff as a board, and hit the floor with a sickening thud. \n\nThat was 2 weeks ago. And Taylor hasn't been conscious since. The hospitals have been flooded with hundreds of thousands of people with the same symptoms. Insomniak was immediately pulled from the market. \n\nI would say Taylor was in a coma, but his endless screaming tells me otherwise. The doctors said he's not in pain. The bruises and the black sclera were superficial; the memory loss and confusion were temporary. But the endless, unceasing nightmares are what is plaguing my brother. And if I walk outside, I can hear the screams of a hundred thousand other people succumbing to Insomniak. ", "In the year 2036, the vaccine for sleep was developed: Sleepless. \n\nAt first, everything went smoothly with the introduction of the Sleepless. Adoption was very marginal, at best. Sleepless' inventors -- two lifetime programmers in their 50s fascinated by the merging of software and biology via nanites -- were now fabulously wealthy, but that was due mainly to what was left of the United States military buying the vaccine for their soldiers. \n\nOh, and everyone who traded on the Futures market had to have it, \"Because the markets never sleep, baby, and neither should you!\" That's how the PR people spun it. Ever since High Frequency Trading and automatic trading in general had been banned in response to the Great Crunch of 2017, the need for investors had skyrocketed.\n\nThe United States, now thoroughly corporatized, had immediately bought majority share of Sleepless, Inc., and enforced patent protection with the full might of its armed forces. Sleepless was instantly classified as a Restricted Weapon, available to U.S. citizens but exportation was strictly prohibited.\n\nFor the first few years, adoption was minimal at best. Who, really, truly wanted to give up sleep for 6 months at a time? It required careful planning, lots of life changes, and only the most resolute would choose to be bereft of family and friends during the wee hours of the night. A spouse who slept with one who didn't? It turned out to be highly incompatible and was the second leading cause of divorce among Sleepless' partakers; something Marketing and Legal did their best to keep quiet.\n\nEventually, however, the United States came to dominate international finance in ways that were unimaginable just a few years prior. Combined with neural implants for near-instantaneous memory recall and infinite memory storage, coupled with the latest in Brain-Computer Interfaces (BCIs), 21st Century investors and Processors [people hired to basically make International commerce happen, sans 2017] became all the rage.\n\nAnd because Americans could work 18-20 hours a day, if motivated, their efficiency barred none and they took an ever increasing chunk of the processing of international transactions. Soon, almost every young person in America was on Sleepless. Their slogan: \"Sleep when you're 30!\" \n\nThe idea was simple: Take Sleepless and live through your 20s wide awake, not missing a single minute! When you turn 30, get off of it, fall in love, have kids, sleep a well-deserved slumber. While you're sleepless, become an investor, or at least a processor, and rake in the dough! Almost everybody was doing it, and by 2040, less than 2% of those under 30 had not taken Sleepless at least once.\n\nThe world economy flowed because of Sleepless.\n\nOn 5 March 2041, however, the newsnets reported what would turn out to be the second biggest story of the 21st Century to date: All of the rumors and anecdotes turned out to be true: Taking Sleepless even one time made you sterile for life. The nanities literally scrambled the partakers' DNA so that neither sperm nor ova could be produced. \n\nOh, the public cried foul! The investors revolted. Within a half-night, the stock valuation was down 80% and the U.S. government sought to nationalize the company. How could it be possible? How could such a specific and damaging change be put into the source code?\n\nThe U.S. government attempted to arrest the inventors, but they were no where to be found. Rumors circulated immediately and the conspiracy theory in vogue was that they had successfully developed cryogenics and were asleep for the long haul in a bunker somewhere in the Sahara. Or Antarctica. No one knew.\n\nThey did chirp a cryptic final message, however: \"Sleepless was meant for the world!\"\n\nNow, it's 4 July 2041, four months later. The grim statistics are in: Of the 40.2 million Americans between the ages of 18 and 30, only 300,000 have never taken Sleepless once. Of those, only roughly 280,000 are fertile. And of those, few are of a desirable stock.\n\nThe nation faces its greatest crisis since the dark dark days of the Great Crunch of 2017, when currency was worthless overnight and no one knew if a loaf of bread should cost $0.01 or $1,000. But unlike then, with this crisis we have time. People aren't going to be dying in the streets, and bullets won't be the most valuable bartering item. This time, there is more hope but an equal amount of sadness. Of potential lost.\n\nHow will we solve the crisis? No one knows. At least there is hope, for now. America will survive.", "5 years ago, /r/nosleep released a never-seen-before product: the sleep pill. It was announced all over the news, and virtually everyone in the world longed for these pills in less than a week.\n\n\nAs you may imagine, everyone rushed to the store to get them, wishing to add more hours awake onto their pathetic lives. Humanity is more productive and more stressed out than ever. They have more hours of jobs and school to attend to, after all.\n\n\nToday, humanity celebrates the five-year anniversary of the pill.\n\n\nActually, they can't celebrate, because humans across the world were plunged into eternal slumber as a side effect of the pill! Over the course of 2 weeks, everyone is asleep on the streets.\n\n\nOne class of humans remain: the anti-vaccine, feminazi, organic mothers of the world.", "Miracle drug, they called it. The last dream you'll ever have, come true in an easy-to-swallow pill. \n\nThe solution to sleep. \n\nThe market went crazy when it was announced. The promise of a 100% increase to productivity worldwide drove every sector higher. Those with investments in the pharmaceutical company manufacturing Hypnosia become multi-millionaires over night.\n\nPharmacies and grocery stores couldn't keep their shelves stocked with the stuff, so high was the demand for the drug. And who could blame them, those people clamoring for the means to never need sleep again? All it took was one pill each night with a glass of water. \n\nOne, little pill.\n\nI had bought into the promises before. One drink to forget your problems. One line to be lifted away. One needle to stop feeling the pain.\n\nSix hundred, forty five days.\n\nI was almost two years sober when Hypnosia was released. I could not begin to imagine struggling with my addiction for a full 24 hours every day. Sleep was an escape I was not ready to give up.\n\nBut now, five years later, here I sit at my kitchen table with the little white pill in front of me. \n\nI have no other choice.\n\nThe same markets that blew their trumpets and heralded Hypnosia as angels descending from the heavens now gasped for breath. The resulting crash had thrown global economies into chaos.\n\nThose who had started taking the pill when it became publicly available were the first to experience the unintended side effect. It had taken nearly five years to realize what we had done. And by then, it was too late.\n\nThose who had initially resisted taking the pill were next. They were the skeptics that eventually succumbed to the pressures placed upon them by society. It was almost impossible to find a job, back then, if you weren't able to commit 16 hours a day. So they too swallowed their nightly dose to stay awake and keep up with their neighbors.\n\nNothing could be done for them now, either.\n\nOne by one, they would finally give in. It could happen at any time: late one night while reading at home, or in the middle of the day while flying a plane. One by one, they would fall asleep. \n\nThe endless, frightful sleep, never to be awoken. Those of us still awake, the ones accustomed to looking in from outside of society, doubted they would ever come back to join us. \n\nWe were society now. We are the few. We walk among dreamers in an empty, barren world.\n\nAnd this pill - this little, white pill - it's the only place left to turn.\n\nThere is so much to be done.\n\nAnd so little time.", "As one of the first mass produced, mass consumed, for lack of a better word \"performance enhancing\" drugs we were forced to rethink our definition of side effects.\n\nPre Sleep-Away side effects referred to possible physical and/or psychological effects brought on purely by the drug (i.e GutBGone had the side effect of making people burst out into spontaneous musical numbers or Grownis had the side effect of giving you liquid shits every 2 hours and 17 minutes etc.). But once people started taking Sleep-Away (and the multitude of other civilian marketed \"performance enhancers\" that flooded the market after Sleep-Away showed that such a product was not only viable but in high demand) we had to consider not only the side effects brought on by the interaction of the product with the body, but the side effects of humanity acting in ways it was heretofore unable to.\n\nSo for instance, with Sleep-Away we had to broaden our view of side effects to include the side effects of people now having more hours in their day. This list of \"non-physical\" side effects ended up being as long and as varied even the most impactful drugs.\n\nThe list was in fact so long, that some have suggested that if our view had changed pre-Sleep-Away and the list of side effects had been compiled before hand, the drug would never have been allowed on the market.\n\nThe side effects varied from the more or less benign to what could conceivably be called malicious.\n\nOne example of the benign side was that where before people came home from eight hour shifts and then possibly napped sometime between coming home and going to sleep for the night, leaving them with relatively few free waking hours, they now had 16, not including commute. This lead to an increased consumption of television programs, which could not be accommodated by the industry as it stood. This lead to an influx of new \"talent\" leading to the joke \"you can't throw a rock without hitting a show runner\" and also, at least according to the vast majority of TV critics, a sharp, sharp decline in overall quality.\n\nWhile one of the most anticipated benefits of such a pill was that it would prevent people from being late for sleep related reasons, this turned out to spring from a gross misreading of human nature as in the post Sleep-Away world, lateness was at an all time high. The leading theory being that with no reason to go to bed, people would just keep watching TV and would be late due to the \"just 5 more minutes\" principal, wherein one both believes they will only watch for 5 more minutes and that they have 5 more minutes, with both beliefs often being wrong.\n\nMoving along in terms of severity a \"social side effect\" of sleep away was an increase in petty crime. With sleep no longer necessary there was a rise in criminals who could move under cover of night without having to sleep during the day/fight off night time fatigue. \n\nWhile the rest of the world was also awake, they often consumed media at night, which overall probably made them less aware of the quote-unqote \"bump in the night\".\n\nPerhaps though the most striking side effect, which could probably lead to a list of side-side effects as long and as varied as the original non-physical/social side effects list, was boredom.\n\nWhile before there were complaints of there being \"not enough hours in the day\" there was now the general feeling that there were too many hours in the day, leaving people to have to fill said \"new hours\". This was accomplished in various ways from the aforementioned TV \"binge watching\" and petty crime all the way to extreme movements like the Cult of the Good Nights Sleep (hereafter, if necessary, CGNS), which was dedicated to re-dedicating these new found hours back to sleep. Interestingly members of the CGNS still took Sleep-Away reportedly so that actually sleeping was a choice instead of a necessity.\n\nThe formation of the CGNS too lead to side effects mainly in the form of new methods of going to sleep when not tired, with most methods, especially the most effective ones, revolving around head trauma, which of course has it's own laundry list of side effects.\n\nAnother often reported \"social side effect\" of Sleep-Away was an increased level of existential waywardness (that ironically might have at what time been attributed to not getting enough sleep) with the stereotypical fifteen minutes before bed that were usually devoted to asking the big questions now being allotted the entire night. Studies also found that when it was a given that one was going to be up all night every night asking the big questions, that it could, to put it bluntly \"fuck a person up\"\n\nThere are obviously too many of these \"social/non-physical side effects\" to list, with nearly every person having a somewhat unique response to not sleeping, this is merely a summary of several of these \"social/non-physical side effects\", an example of side effects of products which can perhaps not be observed in the short or even long term, \"small\" focus group drug testing that is the norm.\n\nWhich is not to say one should solely consider these \"social/non-physcial side effects\" as it is also important to continue to consider the more obvious physical side effects (i.e the tendency for those who use Sleep-Away for a period of 5 or more years to transform into super intelligent, winged, lizard/great ape hybrids, forcing those of us who are immune to said transformation to flee underground or risk subjugation)" ]	7
	[WP] The year is 2315 and the Amish are living like its the 21st century.	[ "A mother walks past her son and notices he's doing something very bad. \"WHAT IS THIS! You should not be looking up Thorad culture. It's a sin and I will not have any of it. Just wait until the Bishop hears about this.\"\n\n\"No please, don't. I don't want to be shunned! I just got to the end of The Last of Us!\" the boy pleads but, he knows he'll be shunned as soon as mother sends the text.\n\nThe mother responds with anger \"Just because those Thorads showed themselves doesn't mean we have to believe they exist. The bible specifically says 'Thy breaketh bread with the Thorad, thy breaketh thy faith' Kyle: 56:9. IT SAYS IT IN THE BIBLE CONNER!\"\n\n\"OKAY MOM! Geez, I won't read about the Thorads anymore. Can we just sweep this under the rug? I really don't want to be shunned again. Those 10 minutes of timeout are unbearable.\"", "It's hard to ignore what's happened. Humans have now moved on to new worlds and great ships can be seen daily transporting unimaginable numbers of humans off-world. I have spent many years learning the laws of this new world to protect my family's god-given home from our mother Earth's loss of personal freedom. I am sad to say that I have now lost that battle. The farm my flock has lived on for 15 generations has been absorbed into to the Philadelphia Locality. The powers that be have given us the option of a large asset settlement or relocation. As there is no land left on Earth for us to live the way we choose, we have decided to move off-world as many others have. We have been given a 5.7 million acre plot on a small moon orbiting Queloz 284D. I can't explain the lengths the council has discussed this, but we all feel it is best for the community. The journey will be long, but I have hope future generations will appreciate our sacrifice to maintain our way of life.\n\nGod be with us.", "\"Timothy, supper's ready!\" shouted his mother, the message echoed softly in the old house.\n\"Mom! Don't call me that. I go by Tim now. God!\" shouted Timothy.\n\"Don't bring god into this, Timmy!\".\n\"Timmy's even worse!\" with a frown on his face, Timothy made his way to the dining room.\nHe briefly idled by a mirror for a brief flex-session and to fix his hair.\nAs he joined his family at the dining table his father started to flex, \"Who am I ?\" he asked.\n\"Timothy. Oh I'm sorry Tim\" replied Martha, Timothy's sister.\n\"Ugh, Stop. You're not even funny.\" said Timothy as he sat down and pulled out his phone.\nHis mother walked in carrying the large pot that held dinner.\n\"Tim, you know the rules. No hardware at the dining table.\" she said as she took off her flower-pattered oven mitts.\n\"This hardware?\" his father stood up and started to flex again, his sister joined in.\nTimothy slammed his hands on to the dining table \"I'm not hungry anymore!\" he proclaimed, and stormed out.\nOnce outside he immediately pulled out his phone and posted to social media.\n\"Ugh, parents are so lame!\" his status read.\n\nAs he sat down in the grass, a spacecraft emerged from the clouds above him.\nThe ominous monstrosity hung motionlessly in the air - the eerie silence finally broken as the side of it slowly started to open.\nTimothy knew what was going to happen next, he closed his eyes and accepted his fate.\nOnce the side of the spacecraft had fully swung open, a voice boomed from it \"And here we see young Timothy Troyer, a farmhand and frequent poster on social media. He enjoys taking pictures of himself and putting them on display, possibly to attract female attention. \".\n\"Tim! My name is Tim!\" yelled Timothy.\n\"Fascinating\" an unknown voice replied. Timothy was momentarily blinded by the amount of flash photography.\nWhen Timothy finally regained his vision he saw that his father had come out to assess what was happening.\n\"Now you lot be careful, he might pull his guns out.\" \nHis father kept a stern composure as shock rippled across the faces of the tourists on the \"Blast from the past!\" spacecraft.\nAfter a moment of silence his father rolled up his sleeve and pinched his upper arm \"These guns\".\n\nTimothy whimpered softly.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n", "The sun was setting over the western hillside of the plantation when Mr. Miller arrived. Jacob looked up from his Bible, noticing the motorcade of police cars and a dark limousine silhouetting the brilliant sky. He marked his page, placed the book on the table, and stood up to meet them. \n\n\"Hallo,\" Jacob said to the first of the security personnel to approach.\n\nThe man, dressed in a black power suit, had the disconcerting air of a thief.\n\n\"Hallo,\" Jacob repeated. \"I'd like to know what you're doing here.\"\n\nA number of black-suited figures had appeared from the vehicles, seemingly uninterested in the conversation. They began scouring the area.\n\n\"You know what this is about,\" rang a voice like a rattling can.\n\nJacob recognized it instantly from his dreams. He had prayed against such sounds, and he had Heard answers. He witnessed the response of God in the plants that were brought forth from the earth of his farm, and the family he had sustained upon it, and the sunset which ended every day. The voice was familiar, something he had heard before, yet he shuddered nonetheless when he heard it. Jacob looked down as Mr. Miller, the IRS agent, walked up to him.\n\n\"Hello, Jacob. Your establishment hasn't payed its taxes for 2 1/2 years. You know the trouble you're in.\"\n\n\"But--\"\n\n\"Don't bother talking.\"\n\n\"It's a religious right--\"\n\n\"The Cease and Desist Order is as clear as day. Any use of the thought Amish® belongs to Amish Company International.\"\n\n\"Yes, I know...\"\n\n\"Then you also know that any words you utter also belong to Amish®.\n\n\"Ye--\"\n\n\"That's enough.\"\n\nTwo of the suited men grabbed Jacob by the arms, holding him steady. \n\n\"Your operation here has been found guilty of treason of copyright in the highest degree. You know the consequences...\"\n\n\"No! I swear, I--\"\n\n\"This program must end.\"\n\nJacob appeared from this program unphased. He found it mildly interesting to replay portions of the past when consciousness was bogged down by trivialities like words.", "I’ve always found it fascinating how traditions ebb and flow over time. I mean I guess they’re analogous to culture, which by its very nature is anything but static. Though in my culture, every tradition is held onto to the very last thread. Based on the Amish tradition we live very simple lives. Back in the 20th century with the advent of the industrial revolution, increasing globalism, and secularism winning the day, they tried to maintain the agrarian ideal. Set gender roles, little interaction outside the confines of religion. A lot of them, most actually, were based in rural Pennsylvania, but a few of us followed our elders to a commune to Arkansas. \n\nNow I’m very wary of the word cult, due to some bad preconceptions with the word, but as a subset of the Amish, I suppose we were. Whereas those in Pennsyvania didn’t necessarily plant themselves in a specific period of time. Simply a time without secular distractions. Instead we progressed, but with a lag. We progressed as a culture; technologically, theologically, ideologically 100 years in the past. The elders we’re zealous and so were we. By the time the elders had died and a new generation came to head, we were driving cars, using phones, listening to the radio. It was quite remarkable really. We were officially designated non-Amish by the traditional sects, but we weren’t particularly deterred. Maybe a little pissed off even. Driven by what seemed to be the most realistic way of declaring our faith. Backwards, a little, but not completely out of touch.\n\nLike I said though. Traditions change. By the 22nd century most of the Pennsylvania sects died out. A few tiny villages sporadically spread out. We were by far the largest continuum of any semblance of Amish culture. But by this point we were fully entrenched in the 21st century. Smartphones, LED TV’s. Supremely antiquated by modern times, but so far from the agrarian ideal that we were almost simply a mockery of ourselves. It was at this point that the elders. Several generations from those originals at this point, decided to stagnate again. To stop progressing. To regress if it was prudent. And that’s where we were for another hundred years.\n\nSo there’s this ritual that’s been a part of the Amish culture, including ours, forever. Rumspringa, the entering into adulthood, is a time where teenagers get a chance to exist in the outside world. To get a taste for what the faith looks like from the outside in. This wasn’t some form of strange torture. Giving them a glimpse of life outside and reeling them back in. In fact you could leave and never come back. Very few did though. There’s comfort in tradition, in culture. In having a shared sense of being. Not with strangers, but with your family, with your community. Almost everyone came back.\n\nWell that was the case until now. We have stagnated almost 300 years into the past. We have to build walls higher and higher to keep out the continuing suburbanization of just about every free space in the country. Without arable land, and without the proper infrastructure to maintain an antiquated lifestyle, we are literally falling apart. We can’t regress any more or we’ll starve, but at our current state of technological wherewithal, planned obsolescence will do us in anyways. In fact, we have so few young adults that we probably won’t last much more than twenty years longer.\n\nWe are at the crossroads of our identity. The more we resist change, the faster our downfall. But the more we adopt it, the less we retain. The world around us isn’t fit for an ascetic lifestyle anymore. To what extent is our self tied to our surroundings? For my entire life I have defined myself by my faith, by my lifestyle. By the writings and teaching of those that came before me. The stories, the songs, the prayers. I think this is why we have maintained such a tight knit, restrictive culture for such a long time. There’s comfort in community. In tradition. In culture. Once we leave these walls, the core tenets of my being are lost. But to what extent do we owe it to ourselves to experience hardship? To be tested each and every day, fighting a constant battle between who we want to be and who we are becoming. \n\nThat’s a thought for another day though. \n" ]	5
	[WP] Donald Trump turns into a worse dictator than Adolf Hitler...	[ "I don't know why the world hates dear Lord Trump, my whole community loves him! And by community I mean country! The United Population Assets of Trump Industries is the best place to live in the world! I live at Trump Towers AE#801259. School here is great. Everyday we watch The Apprentice in art class, and watch commercials for hours. For meals we eat Trump Rations and drink Trump-water, the most nutritious things in the world. If you fuel your body with these you can live to almost 30 years old! I really like school, and no one likes work, but if you treat your body well you work non-stop! I work in a clothing factory. I'm pretty good at what I do, I can make a lot of shirts in one 14 hour day! Sometimes my fingers bleed and a couple of my co-workers have gotten really hurt on the job. But that's why we have Trump-Care! I go to the care office and they give me bandages. I love seeing his face on my bandages, it's like he's right here with me! My co-worker broke his hand two years ago, and they must have sent him to a Trump-resort because I haven't seen him since! If only I was so lucky.. After work I come home to my buildings Trump Child Housing Unit 671. Sometimes I'm able to watch Trump-entertainment if I can stay up after work. Everybody is usually tired so we get some more Trump-Rations in us and then go to bed. Siri, the voice we can talk to, that's my friend. But the other kids are just competition. I know I can better serve him than any other age 10! In fact I know one day I, well, you, will be very successful! In 10 years I see myself serving dear Lord Trump even better than I can now! If you've met him by then, wow. That's my dream. Anyways, these are all my hopes, dreams, things I like, and what I love. I know they'll only increase with age! It will be interesting reading this in 10 years.. I don't really know how to sign off a letter to myself, so... bye! \n\nP.S. Remember to open this when I turn 20" ]	1
	[WP] A prompt that begins and ends with the same sentence, but one core thing changes completely by the end.	[ "\"Stop with that racket, I'm trying to sleep!\" said the man standing there in his room.\n\n\"You've been fucking and fucking,\" said the old creep, as he smashed the roof with his broom.\n\nTruth is, their joy made him sad as he sat in 6B with the TV tuned to the news.\n\n\"This place was much better,\" reminisced Dave Ritchie, the new Vegas producing his blues.\n\nWhen he and Mavis would travel to the Flamingo for fun, and spend hours with no worries or cares, there was no room for sadness or meekness or glum, just the love that each of them shared.\n\nWhy Dave would return to this desert oasis, with Mavis no longer around, confounded himself and the rather odd basis for travel so far from his town.\n\nSo Dave drank and he drank and you couldn't hear a peep, even with Dave's radio making a racket like \"BOOM! BOOM!\" Until a knock at the door Dave heard: \"Stop with that racket, I'm trying to sleep!\" said the man standing there in his room. \n\n\n", "Oh how I loved the human race. The way they danced; the way they enjoyed their simple lives. I sit here quietly on the moon, observing every camp built and every person killed. Humans are more brutal than most intelligent races. They slaughter each other repeatedly and almost drive themselves toward extinction over their simple and stupid principles. \n\nAfter thousands of years humans have built themselves a great civilization. They have completed giant cities of glory and power. Most humans prolong their lives with awkward technology and then force themselves inward and stay inside. They’ve made their lives so complicated they cannot understand the world around them. But I am only an observer reporting what humans are doing, how can I know them well?\n\nThe human race is dying now; they’re running out of food. They struggle to build themselves up and have many children dying. Some groups have resorted to cannibalism, which, of course, will only last so long. I am worried for them, I feel close to them after these years. I don’t want to lose that. \n\nThe humans are hunter and gatherers now. They dance and enjoy their simple lives. Some groups starve and some prosper. Some groups have many children some don’t. The overall trend has been upward, for the first time in a few thousand years. The rumors of before are gone. They are beginning to build themselves up again. They’re going to start it all again. Oh how I love the human race.\n", "\"I'm sorry... But you can't just say this on national television!\" Samantha exclaimed.\n\n\"Hey! I was elected President of the World, and I can say what I want!\"\n\n\"The people actually think you have power though, and this will freak them the fuck out!\"\n\n\"I do have power! I've got the majority of the Assembly backing me on this policy.\"\n\n\"Wait. What?\" Samantha asked.\n\n\"Yeah, it'll be a relatively easy procedure. I was researching how people have done it throughout history, and I think I've got it. I forgot the name of the country that did it. During the 19... 1940s I think.\"\n\n\"I'm sorry, but you want to actually do this?\"\n\n\"Yeah. It's the only way.\"\n\n\"Jesus Christ...\"\n\n\"Who?\"\n\n\"Huh? Oh it's just an expression. Anyway, if you're going to do this, go ahead. I'll get on the elevator and try and leave.\"\n\n\"Alright. Thanks. The cameras are waiting.\"\n\nAs the President/El Presidente/總統 slowly walked down the same lane used by so many Presidents before him, he cleared his throat. \n\n\n\n\"My... Fellow Terrarians... It has come to my attention that our... Wonderful planet is having difficulty... Supporting our current population... This cannot stand! Therefore I am immediately executing \"80% off\", in which 80% of all humans will be executed. Now this next part is a lie... I'm sorry.\"", "I love it when people hate me. It is exhilarating. I tap into that excitement and throw even more fuel onto the fire. Every word I speak and every action I take I do to make you angry. Do you remember when I kicked that cripple? Or maybe the time where I shot that patron? How is he? Dead you say? Good. See you need people like me. Someone who mixes things up, you know, adds a little color to your lackluster everyday life. You know what makes this even more rich? Some of your friends absolutely adore me. Yeah, ridiculous I know. They just understand me a bit more. Who knows. Well, me obviously. I am an actor. I love it when people hate me.", "I hit the man with the bar.\n\nI'll tell you my story, and I'll tell you why I did it, soon, but first I want to talk about this sentence: \"I hit the man with the bar.\" It's interesting, because it's ambiguous; the moment your brain processes the sentence, it can go in two mutually exclusive directions. The verb \"hit\" might partner up with \"with the bar\", meaning that you hit a man, using a bar as a blunt instrument. Or, because verbs are easy and get around a lot, it will hook up with \"the man with the bar\", meaning that this unfortunate sap was holding a lethal weapon while you pummelled him. It can be one of two ways, but not both at once. The reason this is so interesting to me, is that our brains can't handle ambiguity.\n\nWe live in a world of black and white, ruled by the idea that there is good, bad and nothing in between. When we're forced to confront complexity, when the black and white, the good and bad, the noun phrase and the prepositional phrase are mixed together, we often fail to understand it. And failing to understand complexity is, when you think about it, the cause of pretty much every conflict, war and argument in the world.\n\nIn the end, I guess that's why I did it. It wasn't easy, it took twenty years to work my way up through the ranks. Complexity became my friend and ally. As I leapt from a council member in my local community, to the chairman, to a local political candidate, to a Member of Parliament, eventually to the head of my party. All that happened within the first fifteen years or so, by which time I had kept myself very fit, and learned a lot about martial arts. The leap to the top came several years later, after tireless campaigning, I found myself sitting in the Houses of Parliament, the Prime Minister of a small, but powerful, island nation.\n\nAnd more importantly, a nuclear island nation.\n\nNot that any of the general public are aware of the scale of our secret nuclear weapons program; but then, most of them don't seem to care anyway. In some ways, their political apathy was my opportunity.\n\nSo, at long last, with all the mechanisms fallen into place, I entered the room containing the launch button. There was one engineer in the room fixing some pipes, whom I greeted by name before pulling the gun out on him. It took considerable persuasion and threats at every step to stop the engineer from intervening, but soon enough I had the codes in place, and the destination set. All I needed to do was hit the button.\n\nThat was when the engineer tried something, though. I blinked, and he had dove out of my line of sight. He had found of the loose metal pipes he was repairing, and brought it up to strike me with it. Without the element of surprise, though, I easily dodged him. I didn't want to shoot him until absolutely necessary, so, I hit the man with the bar. This was all it took to knock him unconscious, and all I needed to hit the button.\n\nIt was time to make America pay.", "Allen's crotch was on fire. He sat stiffly, squirming in his seat to find a comfortable spot in the wicker chair at the tiny coffee shop. He gripped the table with white knuckles, just a little longer. He could see beads of sweat dripping down his face in his phones reflection. With a shaky hand he whisked it away onto the ground. He opened the mental checklist in his mind, turned to the page of known allergens and blotched a check mark next to Johnson's baby powder. As soon as he'd applied it in his bathroom before he left he knew he had made a grave mistake and tried to wipe it off immediately, but the damage was already done. A shower was out of the question as he was already late for his date. Now, he sat crumpled in the chair, the pores around his crotch seething with a foreign burning substance.\n\n\"F-fuck you Johnsons..\" He murmured a little too loudly to himself. He contemplated leaving, he couldn't carry on with a date like this. He stood up to leave but found himself face to face with the most beautiful girl he had ever lay eyes on. Her eyes were deep blue under auburn hair and her skin was smooth and flawless. \n\n\"Allen?\" She asked, looking at him expectantly. Allen smiled while dying a little inside. \n\n\"Yeah uh, I'm Allen. Brooke right?\" He tensed every muscle to keep composure. \n\n\"Yes, so nice to meet you.\" She smiled and extended her hand for a shake and so did he. As their hands connected, a bead of fresh sweat rolled down his groin, catching all that powder on its way down. Turning opened pores into searingly painful, acidic geysers in it's path. The bead of agonizing sweat took the worst of detours and rolled down the shaft of his penis. No, no no!\n\nBefore he could think the sweat ball carpet bombing his groin with a payload of volatile allergens reached the tip of his penis. A pain that transcended all other pain combined entered him. Allen re actively reached for his groin with Brook's hand firmly in his grasp. A slurry of emotions crossed her face before finally landing on what can only be described as pure beautiful rage. \n\n\"Pervert!\" She cried. The twenty some odd pairs of eyes were focused on them. \n\n\"N-no I'm sorry - my. My crotch! Burning\" Was all he could blurt out. \n\n\"Oh it'l burn alright.\" Brook said with confidence. She spun, grabbed the first coffee someone was holding and splashed it on his groin before storming out of the shop. Allen lay on the floor clutching his wounded groin. He lay there for what seemed like a long while broken, beat and scarred. Allen's crotch was on fire. ", "This is it. Every person has that pivotal moment where they face a challenge or a choice, no matter how minor, and they take the plunge. The little boy at the top of the largest slide in the playground; the athlete at the finals starting line; The poker player with a risky hand. It's a case of mind over matter. I need to put aside the trepidation and just go for it. Yes, my life might be turned upside down in a moment but think about it. That little boy pushes himself down the slide and realises how much fun it is! The athlete gives it 100% and takes the gold! But then again, the poker player takes a chance and goes all in to lose every penny. What if it all goes wrong? I can't face what life will be like if...No. Nothing is predetermined, nothing set in stone. There is no way of knowing what will happen next. I've gotten this far in, there's no escaping now. I'm looking at her. I know it's the right thing to do. This is the right place and the right time. I know what I have to do. I'm going down the slide, kicking off the starting line, playing my hand. I'm getting down on one knee. This is it.", "“This too shall pass.”\nI heard those words echoing inside my head as my own screams and pleas for mercy threatened to drown the mantra in obscurity. I was on the ground stunned from a sucker punch one of the corrections officers planted into my face. One of my front teeth dropped to the floor followed by my own body. The first CO began to kick me while several others hit me with batons and their fists. I crawled away screaming, “What did I do?!?! Why are you doing this?!?!” with the only responses being batons, fists, feet, and mace. At first, I was scared but an overwhelming calm drifted over me and I accepted the possibility that I was about to die in the Sheriff’s County Jail, on a scummy floor that has probably seen worse. \n\nThey ended their unwarranted barrage and threw me into a cell, my eyes burning while I still yelled at them for beating me. I don’t know how but I was standing trying to keep my eyes open because it seemed to worse if I kept them closed. As I screamed out, a line of prisoners were being led from somewhere into the jail. They looked at me with cautious, dispassionate eyes as they shuffled into the acrid atmosphere their actions led them towards. I shouldn’t be here. I made a mistake, one that did not harm another individual but nonetheless was one worthy of being put away.\n\nTwo guards approached the cell they launched me into and began to discuss how to handle me.\nShould we call the nurse? one CO asked the other in regard to my busted lower lip and missing tooth. I don’t know what they did with the tooth. He probably took it as a trophy to place amongst his other ‘spoils’. \nFuck him, why waste the time?\n\nEventually, they removed me from the cell and cleaned me up. Their version of cleaning me up was to bring me into the showers, blasted me with tepid water WHILE my jail garb was still on, stripped me, gave me new jail attire then bring me to an elevator where they slammed me face first into the back of the elevator once the doors closed. My hands were shackled by my waist.\n\nI had never been to prison before and I was unsure what to expect. Televisions and movies were my only reference save for one former co-worker who had spent some time in prison. He told me the best way to survive in prison is not to fold, to show that you’re no pushover. He said if confronted, stare the guy right in the face then slap the shit out of him as hard as you can. The guy will be so surprised and confused that his brain would go through a ‘reboot’ (yes, he did say that) and during this time, you take out his knee then slam his head to the ground as he falls. Yeah, I didn’t think so.\n\nI was in for several days before being transferred to a psychiatric hospital after I lost my shit. I was scared, confused, alone, and being made fun of by the COs. They had given me some meds and I don’t know what they were but I flipped out; I was jumping off my cot trying to get the light that was 12 feet above be and even jumped from my cot to the bars, hanging on with my hands and feet as if I were a monkey. I do remember one of the COs mimicking me and calling me a stupid ass ape. \n\nWhen they transferred me, I had no idea where I was going. My mind was so warped I had thought they were bringing me to a field to kill me. But they brought me to a psychiatric center an hour and a half away. My initial admittance was supplemented with a shot of Haldol after I tried to sit up too quickly. They had assumed I was trying to attack them. I couldn’t blame them. \n\nSix weeks passed and during that time, I had begun to be more like who I was before my manic episode. I had been helping an older gentleman with early onset Alzheimer’s because he had trouble getting around with his wheelchair. One day, one of the aides with whom I become friendly with said to me, “You’ve really given me more faith in humanity”. I guess my treatment of Richard during my stay was an indication that I was still humane, still worthy of another chance. \n\nThe day I was released, I was laying down on the bleachers, ignoring the hardness of the wood or the cacophony of yells and squeaking sneakers. I laid there with no idea as to when I would be released but I stubbornly had continued to embrace one thought:\n“This too shall pass.”", "I always knew I’d make a great mother. \n\nI love children, always have. And there’s something about me that children love, too. I think they can sense the goodness within me. Doctor after doctor told me I’d never have children of my own. “Abnormal ovarian development,” they called it. I would nod politely, feigning concern, listening but never believing. Because I knew better. I was meant to be a mother. I dreamed of her every night: my little girl, Emily. My angel. She was coming. I could feel it.\n\nI still remember the first time I held her tiny hand in mine. Her eyes were warm, amber brown, just like mine, but wide, afraid, and brimming with tears. I knelt down beside her. “What’s wrong, darling?” I cooed, brushing a soft, blonde curl from her forehead. \n\n“I need help,” she whimpered, one brave tear spilling onto her cheek. “I can’t find my mommy.” \n\nMy heart stopped. My eyes darted around the department store. Not a soul in sight. My prayers had been answered. “Baby,” I soothed, “you must be so frightened. Come with me.” Walking quickly, confidently, we made our way to the door, and as soon as we reached the parking lot, I scooped her up and broke into a run. She began to scream. \n\n“Shhhh, Emily,” I whispered in her ear, cupping my hand over her mouth, “It’s all right now. Mommy’s here.” \n\nMy Emily. My angel. Here at last. \n\nI always knew I’d make a great mother.", "The light's still on. It's bright in my room and I've literally laid here for hours on end now. My mind's still racing, as I can't sleep. I wonder if it's because the light's still on, I wonder if I snuffed out the light could I rest easy? Would I be able to forget these rampant thoughts, and close my eyes forever? I've wondered for a while now... the thought of just turning it all off and sleeping seems almost too easy. How would they feel? My friends and family, if I ended it here. If I took my life and let the darkness consume me. I could easily rope the last few stray thoughts and worries around my neck tight and watch as it gets slowly darker and darker as I hang there...but no, I'm better then this. I'm not in the dark yet. The lights still on.", "This life of misery is reaching an end. \nEach day, I awake to suffering. The stabbing pain sears at my ribs, my blood palpable as it courses under my skin. This has been my life for years, progressing worse and worse. The doctors said I don't have long; that soon my body will cease altogether. \nYet I refuse to believe them. \nI know what I was meant to do on this earth. Others still cry out in pain, often worse than mine. I have been tethered down by my physical struggles, but now no longer! Soon, I will see if I have found the cure. \nThis life of misery is reaching an end!", "It was a good day. The sun rose. I fed and walked my dog. Did my yoga. Even got further into one of my challeng positions. I went to work- Pam was out sick so no one yelled at me. No traffic on the way home. The grocery had a sale on the sirloins my husband likes. My husband was coming home tonight. And then the state trooper came. \"I'm sorry, ma'am... \" But... No. It was a good day.", "Soon, I will be happy. Soon high school will be over and college will start after that; everyone says that life really starts once you get that freedom. Soon I won't have to deal with the petty kids that just don't see who I am. Soon I won't have to hear Dad storming off for reasons I have examined and physically cannot understand. Soon I won't have to hear the drone of how unfair life is from Mom, and Brother, and Sister. Soon I won't have to look in the mirror and nit pick at the image that stares back at me; disliking even its best features. Soon I won't have to open my eyes again. Soon I won't have to breathe again. Soon, I will be happy. ", " I was a nice man. I liked everyone, and everyone liked me. I always respected people and trusted others. I donated to charity and helped those in need. But now I've moved away from everything I loved, hiding from everything, leaving a trail of blood and death behind me. I was a nice man." ]	14
	[WP] You tried to warn them. You knew it would be the end of civilization, but the damn fools would not listen. You are the 5th dentist who did not recommend Crest.	[ "The Omega sees everything.\n\nInside the Cremulon 10 different physio-chemists observe the specimens under the glass. Chemicals are added to the cylindrical diffuser. The atomic chambers are charged with a billion volts of Neptune's liquid energy. The substance is ready. The creatures bow their heads covering their crimson eyes. The Dark physio-chemists agree.\n\nBelow the cosmic base a million mindless, tortured Neptunians bawl and scream as the heat from the Alpha machines shoot across their bodies. A thousand diamond enforced industrial-grade blockheads refine the coal-like substance into something sparkly--- and white. The naked bodies of a million Neptunians squirm against the raging engine. This is hell.\n\nThe substance is packaged in large spherical containers by the sentient androids of the Omega Mind and delivered by light years to Hyperion space, in the 7th quadrant to a planet locally called Earth.\n\nIt lands as scheduled at 15:27 VDS on the colony of Devil's Triangle aka the Bermuda. There the Praxis et Grandula Base also known as the Procter and Gamble company's CEO Head Physio-chemist of Abraxas Alan G. Lafley inspects the package. The large spheres open up, stagnant space gas is released. When the gases dissipated there stood the box and written in bold red and blue colors were the words: CREST.\n\nI have warned my colleagues about the events I witnessed on the Bermuda Triangle but no one ever believes a dentist.", "Tuck it in, buck. Show time.\nThis is my beige chair with the tuvilian scoops. I like to sit there most days, but today is a new day.\n\nWe start with the mulvex timber, which is of course a robot with advanced arms.\nVery good for handing the water. \n\nThis is my laboratory section of the building. It is firm. Touch the walls, you will see. They shouldn't budge.\n\nI guess Crest just seemed to have too many flactons. I drank loots fo beer and was like daaamn that's some shit. Fucked up toothpaste man. motheafuckas can't be rubbin that gardatian collux up in they gums and teeth with the splurge of clumpidump dingdong chemicals flouting all up in the ocean of spit. nope, no good." ]	2
Doesn't have to be a popular form of communication or even one that exists	[WP] You have discovered the communication network used by another species (i.e. Vampires, werewolves, aliens, or even another known species).	[ "I cannot say how I have gained insight into these new forms of communication, for that information is beyond my grasp, but I can describe them in rudimentary and unsatisfying terms. The voices -- if one could call them such a thing -- come through a sort of mental slipstream from places unknown to me. It’s as if my mind reaches out into the Ether and draws in phrases of a grotesque and wholly alien language. I’m sure that there is no physical sound involved for I have heard the voices with other humans present and they paid them no mind. Keeping my features calm during those moments, as to not startle my company, was something of a test of will; one of which I’m uncertain I passed sufficiently. I noticed on two occasions that my friend had stopped mid-sentence and was eyeing me peculiarly.\n\nAs to what the voices mean or their topic of discussion I cannot say, nor do I care to know, for their timbre assaults my very nature. They speak in a hideous imitation of human speech dripping with hateful intent. At times, the impression of english comes through but upon scrutinization all comparisons to humanity seem coincidental, for even at our worst, we have never created anything as disgusting as this wretched noise. Their intensity has doubled over the course of the months prior and my sleep has been disturbed as a result. I’m sure yours would be too if instead of lullabies you had the music of gnashed and gurgled and coughed out phonemes spat directly into your mind. I’m lucky if I can gather two hours of restful sleep through the night. How restful those two hours are is also in question, for even during sleep I’m haunted by dreams of a sinister nature. \n\nThe dreams induce panic at their most tepid, and full blown fits of terror at their worst. One recurring dream in particular tortures me almost nightly and features a host of small, black, wet creatures no higher than the knee and dripping a sticky ichor from their frothing mouths. I find myself in a field surrounded by rotting stalks of vegetation and through them drifts cold ragged breaths and the snapping of twigs. I quickly realize that running would be futile for the sounds come from all directions so I stand stiff and wait for the creatures to come. Soon the wheat parts and they come crawling through towards me. They leave a trail of soaked earth behind them with black and stinking slime. I do nothing but whimper as they slowly come for me and when they reach me they push their claws into my skin and I scream. \n\nI fear I may go mad and find myself institutionalized if the voices and dreams don’t relent; I cannot keep a mask of sanity erect much longer under these conditions. Where these voices come from is a source of unending rumination and anxiety because I feel as if I have exhausted all sane explanations; at least all explanations that would bring my heart any comfort. I can only think of three possible causes. \n\nThe first being that I have already begun to go mad. The voices being the first symptom of a much larger affliction. Mental illness has a no history within my family but it’s not impossible to imagine myself being struck with an incurable bout of schizophrenia. Although it is unlikely because of the aforementioned lack of history, and also because I am already well into my forties and those diseases tend to surface in one's more youthful years. \n\nThe second is more unlikely as I don’t consider myself a religious man, but I would be lying if I told you the thought that I was communicating with a devil hadn’t crossed my mind. As I’ve already said, the nature of the speech is unknown to me, but I know that it carries a hateful intent. I must admit my ignorance of Abrahamic religions and the Devil in particular, but everything I have heard paints him as cold and hateful towards humans, which is as apt a description I can think for the nature of the voice. \n\nThe third and final explanation is just as implausible. I find myself wondering if the voices are of an alien source, from somewhere cold and remote in the black emptiness surrounding our lonely planet. I quickly push those thoughts from my mind as the implications are too horrible to contemplate. Are they aware that I am listening? Are they attempting to contact me directly? Why? What are their intentions?\n\nThe ferociousness and frequency of the unholy mutterings has steadily increased over time and I sense a heinous conclusion approaching. Last night in fact, I had another wretched dream that was unlike any other before it, for it took place in my very house. The same ragged breath and odor and sound of cracking twigs escaped from the hall into my room but I was too petrified to leave my bed and check the disturbance. I pulled the covers over my face and forced myself into an unrestful sleep over the sound of a faint scratching on my bedroom door. Looking back I wonder how much was a dream and how much was reality, for the whole experience carried the distinct flavor one associates with wakefulness… \n \nI've been reading a lot of Lovecraft recently", "\"John. This could be dangerous. We cant let it get into the wrong hands.\" She clasped her mug, feeling the warmth of the tea seep into her hands. \n\n\"It is so weird, Sarah. They speak, almost like we do. But when I think I am beginning to understand them, they say something totally out of context.\" \n\n\nSarah could see the stress on his face. Since his discovery, he had permanent bags under this eyes, and he hunched over his seat.\"John... This is a new species. Something like us humans, yet so different.\" \n\nJohn leaned in, his voice barely a whisper. \"Worst part is, I think they may be among us. Living like us.\" \n\nHer eyes widened, as she flicked her head to each side, as if looking for them. \"You didn't tell me where you found them, John. Where?\" \n\nHe took a long breath, a sip of his coffee, and spoke. \"As soon as I saw them communicate, I knew they couldn't be human like us. \"\n\n\"Dammit John. Where. Where did you find them!\"\n\nHe frowned. She was acting odd. Maybe he better not tell her. But alas, he had to share his secret with someone. She leaned in, a hungry look in her eyes. He uttered a single word. \n\n\"4chan.\"" ]	2
	[WP] You wake up in a room with nothing but a spoon, a match, and a note that says "Good luck."	[ "I surveyed the room. There was no furniture save a Victorian style armchair in dire need of reupholstering. The walls were whitewashed plaster, and the floor that I lay on was hardwood. The room was lit by a small bare lightbulb in the middle of the ceiling. There were no windows. \n\nI looked to my left, and saw three small items. A silver spoon, a matchstick, and a folded scrap of paper. I took the spoon and matchstick and placed them in my pocket, then unfolded the paper. It read:\n\n> Good Luck\n\nWeird.\n\nI pocketed the paper as well, and scanned the floor for any other items that may come in handy. There was nothing.\n\nIn front of me there was a door, presumably leading out of the room. I stood and walked over to it. It was a large door, plain, but it looked well made. It was probably made of maple. It tried the handle. It was locked. I inspected the lock, and saw that it was an old fashioned lock that would require a skeleton key. \n\nAlmost instinctively I pulled out the match and the spoon and inspected them further. The match was ordinary in every way, the was no way it would help me open the door, but the spoon had an engraving on the end of the handle. A series of subtle vine-like designs twisted into a shape that may have been that of a key. I pressed it to the lock, but it didn't fit. \n\nOh well, it was worth a try. I tested the nob again, just to be sure, and then turned to face the rest of the room. \n\nThere was another door on the opposite wall that I hadn't noticed before. I walked towards it and twisted the door nob. It clicked, and with slight effort on my part, I yanked the door open. \n\nThe door opened upon an unlit closet. From the light of the room behind me, I could see that it was fairly small, with a low, tiled ceiling. A few of the large tiles looked loose. There was also a coat rack lined with hangers, several of them supporting, you guessed it, coats. \n\nRunning my hand along the side wall of the closet, I noticed a light switch. I flicked it experimentally, to find the room behind me plunged into utter darkness. I fumbled to find the switch again, and for a moment, it seemed to be stuck. Relief flooded me when the switch clicked into place, and light returned to the room.\n\nI went through the pockets of each coat, finding little but a bit of loose string. I pocketed it as along with the spoon and the match. \n\nI looked at the floor of the closet and found another scrap of folded paper. I picked it up, unfolded it, and read the message inscribed on it.\n\n> Poor little Jack Blue wouldn't eat his meat.\n\n> Was beaten so hard that he cried into his sheets.\n\n> But he still wouldn't eat, to his parents' dismay,\n\n> So they locked him up here and he withered away.\n\n> Now his yellowed old bones lie beneath your feet.\n\nI screamed and wheeled back in terror, only now noticing that the floorboards near the entrance of the closet had been at one point pulled up and hastily replaced. \n\nI turned to the other door, now my only way out of this terrible place. I hammered upon the door, bellowing at the top of my lungs. My efforts came to naught. Failing here, I circled the room, pounding frantically upon the walls, hoping against hope to find a weak spot. The beats upon the thick plaster matched the thumping of my heart in tempo and ferocity.\n\nAfter some minutes I calmed, and came to rest in the center of the room. There was no point in panicking. And even if some child's bones lay beneath the floor, the was no way that I could be harmed by them. \n\nI searched the room again, this time checking under the cushions of the chair. I checked the pockets of the coats again, finding nothing. I looked up at the ceiling of the closet, and remembered the loose tiles I had noticed before. I tested them. One gave, and I was able to lift it out of the way, revealing a cavernous gap in the ceiling. By hoisting myself up onto the coat rack, I was able to peer into the gap between tiles. Nothing. It was too dark to see.\n\nThe suppressed emotion returned to me, this time in the form of anger. I pounded on the door, and tried to use everything in my possession to unlock it. I almost broke the matchstick in the process, and even considered a device that combined the thread and spoon, but rejected the thought. \n\nI then checked every corner of the room again, and then the closet. In my furry, I switched off the light switch, and then turned to face the dark room. \n\nWhat I saw stopped me in my tracks. \n\nScrawled on the opposite wall, in what must have been glow in the dark paint, read the following words:\n\n> Check the chair.\n\nI switched on the light and went over to the chair, inspecting it further. I rechecked the cushion, again finding nothing. However, this time around, I noticed a new detail. One section of the chair had been recently opened up as if to reupholster it. While the old cloth had been tacked together, the new section was stapled shut.\n\nI picked at the staples with my fingers, but was unable to get a grasp on them. I tried to pry one up with the match stick, but was unable to get it under the staple. Then, I tried to thread the string through one of the staples and pull on both ends. By using this method, I was able to get every staple out. I pealed back the section of the chair, and pulled aside the fluff to find a small metallic object.\n\nIt looked like a file or some sort, but it had a strange coating on it. Suddenly I realized. It was a striker! \n\nI turned to the closet and walked up to the gap in the tiles. I lit the match with the striker. I would have to be quick. I lifted myself up with the coat rack, and held the match up to the opening in the ceiling. There was a small box inside the opening. I reached out, and grasped it, just as the match died.\n\nI carefully lowered myself, and inspected the box. It was a cassette player, with a preloaded cassette. The play button was missing. I tried to trigger the mechanism myself, but I was unable to fit my finger inside the space between buttons. But I had come too far to be done in by a cassette player. I pulled the spoon from my pocket, and fitted the curiously carved handle into the space that would have belonged to the play button. It fit perfectly.\n\nThe tape wound for a few moments before any sound came from the player. What I heard was another rhyme, said in the eerie, sinister voice of a child.\n\n> That's all I've got, it's sure been fun.\n\n> You've played the game; it seems you've won.\n\n> The key has come after some time,\n\n> But this won't be my final rhyme.\n\n> You didn't think that we were done?\n\nThe tape ended, and with a click, the player case opened, revealing a cassette, and a small, old fashioned key. I hesitated for a moment, realizing that this was the key to the door, as well as what was on the other side. I then shook away any hesitation, and took the key and strode to the door. The lock clicked and the door creaked open.\n\nI found myself in a room.", "The only thing that echoed in my mind was ticking. I opened my eyes to be immediately blinded by the brightness of the walls.\n\nTick tock.\n\n Squinting to wait for my eyes to adjust I feel like there's something odd about the room.\n\nTick tock.\n\nMy eyes adjust and I straighten my back to get a better look at my surroundings. I notice I'm on a platform with stairs connected to each side.\n\nTick tock.\n\nTwo flights of stairs extend upwards as if leading to an attic, while the remaining two flights of stairs extend downwards as if leading to a basement.\n\nTick tock.\n\nAt the top of each staircase lies a door bending at a curve. The room evidently spherical.\n\nTick tock.\n\nBut not just that, it was a perfect sphere. Underneath the platform I stood on was a dip as if it was the bottom of a perfectly shaped ball.\n\nTick tock.\n\nI head up the closest set of stairs and reach the door within a couple strides. It's a normal brown wood door with a golden knob.\n\nTick tock.\n\nI try to open it but the handle doesn't move no matter how hard I try. Frustrated, I hit the door and turn around looking at the platform.\n\nTick tock.\n\nA pedestal? It wasn't there a minute ago, as far as I know. I can't recall if it was there when I came to.\n\nTick tock.\n\nApproaching the pedestal a shimmer caught my eye. A piece of metal?\n\nTick tock.\n\nThe pedestal has three items arranged on top of it. A spoon, a match, and a note with the words, \n\nGood luck.\n\n written on it.\n\nTick tock.\n\nI pick up the note and turn it over, it feels like an old parchment and has nothing on the other side. My attention then focuses on the spoon, but it appears to be a regular spoon.\n\nTick tock.\n\nNothing interesting about it. I put the spoon down and pick up the match, not more than an inch tall it looks like a generic brand match with a red head.\n\nTick tock.\n\nLosing interest in the items on the pedestal I make my way to one of the doors leading downwards. Finding a similar door to the one above and unfortunately leading to the same result.\n\nTick tock.\n\n\"What the fuck is that ticking?\" Looking around the room I can't find anything that would indicate the source of the obnoxious invasion on my ears. \n\nTick tock.\n\n\"My God that's annoying\"\n\nIrritated I return the platform and re-examine the items laying upon the top of the pedestal. The items on the pedestal remained exactly the same.\n\nTick tock\n\n\"Fucking useless... I wish I had a beer. I'm always more creative with some alcohol.\"\n\nTick tock.\n\nThrough my frustration I decide to light the match. Placing my thumb on the head and pressuring it against the paper it catches a spark and ignites the match.\n\nTick tock.\n\nStaring at the match I notice something appear on the note. More ink?\n\nTick tock.\n\nI caress the match closer to the note trying to see what it is. As the match gets closer to the note, more ink appears. Surprised, I wave the match above the note and notice more words hidden on the note. \n\nTick tock.\n\n Burn me, and put me in the tube. The spoon is the enigma's key.\n\n\"What the actual fuck does that mean? The spoon is the enigma's key? What is an enigma anyway?\"\n\nTick tock.\n\nEven more frustrated I drop the match on the pedestal and read the note again. Placing my hand on the the pedestal for support an immediate burning sensation rides up my arm.\n\nTick tock.\n\n\"DAMNIT. WHAT THE HELL?!\"\n\nThe match was still burning even though it should have burned out already.\n\nTick tock.\n\nI read the note again and look at the match. That's when I notice it. \n\nTick tock.\n\nThe hole in the middle of the pedestal. Tiny but definitely there.\n\nTick tock.\n\nCarefully, I set the note on fire. After it finished burning up, I sweep the ash into the hole which immediately closes after all the ash is gone.\n\nTick tock.\n\nI hear a click and see a portion of the pedestal open with an indentation perfectly formed to the spoon. Placing the spoon in the indentation the pedestal closes up again. \n\nTick tock.\n\nA drawer pops out from the side of the pedestal. Honestly, slightly scaring me. \n\nTick tock.\n \nA key sat in the center of the drawer. I grab it.\n\n Tick tock.\n\n I trust my instincts, so I proceed to the first door I investigated. The key better open the fucking thing.\n\nTick tock.\n\n To my delectation… and dread. The key clicked the door was unlocked.\n\nTick tock.\n\n Opening the door, I tried to pull the key out of the lock, but it broke off, or so it seemed. Upon further examination, the key had a smaller key inside the shaft.\n\nTick tock.\n\n Climbing inside the room, was awkward. Finding myself in another room.\n\nTick tock.\n\n On the wall of the room, also a perfect sphere, dangled a clock. Ticking consistently and to my annoyance, loud.\n\nTick tock.\n\nClimbing up the stairs to another platform all I saw was a note with the words,\n\nYou have until the clock hits zero to escape. Otherwise you will be stuck here.\n\nTick tock.\n\nThat's odd, clocks don't go down to zero. Stepping back I look at the clock more closely and to my horror see that instead of the normal 1 - 12 hour clocks, instead went from 48 just after the 12's normal position to 0 where 12 normally was.\n\nTick tock.\n\nAnd the time on the clock was at 47 hours and 27 minutes left. \n\n\"Well, I better get started if I don't want to die.\"\n\nTick tock.\n\nEdit: Spacing.", "This can't be happening.\n\nI've been known to party. I buy drinks, I accept drinks, I have a good time. Last night I bought a round, accepted a round, and then I woke up. Just like that. \n\nThis cannot be happening. \n\nThe note said \"good luck\". The spoon and match seemed to have no purpose, but they were the only thing I could physically hold, so I did just that.\n\nThis cannot possibly be happening. \n\nThe room I am in is small, probably some sort of root cellar. There is one visible entrance, and that is where the foot steps are coming from. \n\nThis is happening. Shit.\n\nThe door creeks open, and one, two, three... Eight total hooded figures walk in silently, the only sounds I can hear are sixteen individual feet and the light whispers of the burgundy robes. The eighth is carrying a large, flimsy package, but other than that I don't see anything outside of the robes. \n\nWhat. The. Actual. Fuck.\n\nThe eighth member places the flimsy container about three feet from me in silence before falling back into the ranks. A different member; the leader presumably, wearing the nicest robes, stepped forward. After what seemed like an eternity, a voice, a familiar voice, says, \"The final test has begun. It is time to finish this.\" \n\nI... What?\n\nI realize again the box is in front of me. I hesitate before reaching for it, unsure of what atrocity waits for me under the lid. As I begin to reveal the contents, the members begin some weird chat in.. Latin? I don't speak Latin, but the other eight people in the room did apparently. The weak lid unlatched with a pop, only to reveal... A cake. \n\nHuh?\n\nThe cake had a single candle on it, unlit. \"Good luck\", said the familiar voice, echoing the note. It clicked. The familiar voice was Johnny, my lab partner for last year's biology course and the president of Delta Iota Kappa. I knew what to do. I lit the candle with the match, grabbed the spoon, and proudly announced \"bottoms up, bitches\"\n\nThis is going to be a long night, laxative treats never last long in your system, and this is a big cake. Better hurry up." ]	3
	[WP] 2047: You're a history professor teaching of the most world changing event since the French Revolution, the Internet influenced Chinese revolution of 2023.	[ "\"The Chinese rebellion of 2023 incited some of the darkest, most inhumane acts we have ever seen. Members of a secret Internet based clan based within China, fought against the authorities in the most horrific despicable ways. There were two separate groups that fought in a variety of different ways. The 'redditors' were a mischievous bunch who excelled at reposting and spreading previously known information everyone had seen thousands of times. While the '4chanians' just kinda messed around and sent discouraging messages to the Chinese authorities. \nTurns out no one has any idea how the internet works, but in China, they decided to have some kind of rebellion, because they didn't have it, and now the people in power have been pushed out of power, and there's just random shit going on\"\nJust as I finished this final point someone yelled from the back of the room\n\"You don't even go here,\" which was justified because I didn't and I really had no idea what I was talking about.", "As you all know, the Communist government of the People's Republic was almost toppled in 2023. After the attacks on and eventual destruction of the Great Firewall, it was only a matter of time until the Internet caused some sort of turmoil. This was, to say the least, bigger than a little turmoil. Rioting in the streets, protests in famous locations... the Chinese had a rough couple of weeks. But in the end, it didn't matter. The original government had dealt with this sort of thing before. You're all familiar with Tienanmen square, yes? The end result was the same. With a strong central power back in place after only two weeks, the Chinese went forward with their plan to dominate Eurasia... and that brings us to the present day.\nQuestions so far?" ]	2
	[WP] Everyone in the bar begins to rip off their skin/costumes and expose their true selves. They begin to notice you're not joining them	[ "...Well, that explains a lot.\n\nSee, I was on a trip to Manchester as part of my job as Director of Financial Services. I'd had to meet up in preparation for a pan-European Congress on Mediating Economic Damage.\n\nExcept, I was the only homo sapiens here. Which I should have guessed in hindsight, with some of the insanities going on lately.\n\nPicture the scene: it's 3:30 a.m. and we're just winding down now. Then some bright spark says that we should, \"See each other in our skins.\" And that's when I think I've finally lost the plot. As everyone else starts stripping off their clothes, and one or two start unzippiong their skin.\n\nLet that sink in for a minute. People, who I have known for years - some of whom I went to University with at Magdalene College in Oxford - start taking their skin off.\n\nMy first thought is, Oh, God, I've finally had that bad trip from that time in the mid-90s when I was taking everything known to Man. I mean, one of these people had tentacles for teeth, for crying out loud.\n\nMy best friend, Sir Thorne MacFeeney, just gave me an apologetic look, and then unzipped his bare chest...and out stepped this bizarre monstrosity that looked like some mad god had mated a velociraptor and a woman together, and put that figure into somewhere between the two in height; the colouring of the scale-like skin shimmered in the dim lights of the club, &&mpersands.\n\n\"Sorry, Mervyn. We should have told you sooner. I'm the financial ambassor for homo reptilia therapodus to the Sapiens. Alven over there, is the ambassador for homo sapiens cherubim, also known as the Angelus.\n\n\"We've known about you for some time,\" my former friend Sir Thorne continued, as my mind gribbled in horror, like I'd just stepped into the Twilight Zone. \"Sir Mervyn Queen, Director for the Bank of England, bastion of Humanity in these grave economic times.\"\n\nThe Greek colleague, Ianus Vafourakis, had turned into some deranged Dantean image, red and purple plumes of smoke filtering out through was derangements passed for a nose. \"I know where you stand, Queen. Now we would like to see your form.\"\n\nI just stood there, stunned. My world, formerly solid and sane, had just imploded. \"I...umm...ahhh....I don't have another form,\" I spoke softly, hoping that this would all be a nightmare that would end.\n\nEveryone else exchanged a look, and laughed uproariously.\n\n/ / / / / /\n\nThe mind is incredibly resilient, you know. Most of my relationships didn't change, oddly enough. There was always a knowing wink from Sir Thorne, though; as though I was the keeper of something much bigger.\n\nAs I was falling from grace (after the fifth Global Financial Crisis of 2025), I was invitied to attend what you now call The Great Unveiling. As I stand here at this, the 75th Anniversary of that event; that wondrous, horrible event, dying from some incredibly rare cross-species illness, I feel it's time to pass on what knowledge I have before it is lost. That time before, when humanity was innocent, of remberance of our ignorance.\n\nForeword, The Guide to Managing Cross-species Conflicts, 3rd edition", "The moment I was noticed, everyone started to stop. It was the same, disjointed way that a crowd would stop talking after the speaker stopped and waited for quiet. \nAll eyes were on me.\n\nI had to say something; I couldn't just stand there and watch them watch me. I just couldn't! \"So, ah, hey. Yeah. I'm not really, ah.. special like you guys.\"\n\nThe first one to strip off his suit spoke up, breaking the unfortunately awkward silence that followed my statement.\n\n\"If you have no second life, then who are you? For that matter, why are you even here?\" His words felt accusatory, and they prickled my skin.\n\n\"I'm just Ted. I'm from accounting, but the PR guy was sick, so I was sent to the gala instead.\" To be honest, these guys just kind of creeped me out. Like, seriously. Who bothers wearing all that stuff under a three-layer suit??\n\nA woman, clad in a white body suit, was the one to raise even more questions.\n\n\"Gala? What gala?\"" ]	2
	[WP]God Commits Suicide	[ "There was a time when I watched with pride; I heard sounds become words, I watched the first human hands make fire, I even watched them turn their abstract thoughts into things; things that served no purpose other than to say — and sometimes without words — ‘this was in me and now I’ve taken it out to show you’. \n\nSome say I created them in my image; created the creators of everything from cave paintings to high art, from the first boat that reached an uninhabited island to rockets that put man on the moon and robots on mars. \nThose were days of such intensity, such passion and boldness. It was impossible not to be captivated.\n\nI’m bored. They no longer explore the world, they just shape it to what they want, and it’s amazing in its own way, but ultimately unfulfilling. \n\nI could take them all out, they’ve accused me of it before; every flood and fire, every bullet fired, but I have nothing left in me; for them or anything else that is or could be.\n\nI realise now they only explored so they could exploit.\n\nSo I am (un)done\n", "Pan sat in the tall grass drinking a Coke from green bottle as he watched the preparations. It was a bright summer day, nothing but blue skies and thick, white clouds drifting by. Odin wandered by staff in hand and sat down beside him. He was drinking a Ringnes beer. \n\n\"Today's the day,\" Odin said.\n\n\"Yep,\" Pan replied, picking up a tall blade of grass and putting it in his mouth.\n\n\"Long time coming,\" Odin said.\n\n\"Yeah,\" Pan said, looking down at the ground.\n\n\"Don't tell me you're sorry for him.\" Odin said, \"You of all people know what he did. Fucking desert asshole with all his stupid rules and brainwashed followers.\"\n\n\"It's just sad when anyone of us does this.\" Pan said. \"All that time, all that work, for what?\" \n\nA number of large wooden poles had been erected on the hill in a line, a small crowd of people had gathered at the base of them. Some of them were crying, but most of them were just standing around shocked. One guy vomited.\n\n\"Happens to all of us eventually.\" Odin said, \"Ragnarok is/will/was be a horrible thing. The Wolf swallows the world, and we all become dog shit.\"\n\n\"Literally.\" Pan said.\n\n\"Yeah,\" Odin said with a shiver, \"Anyway...\"\n\nA small crowd came up around the hill, cursing and singing, some were clearly drunk. They parted ways, and few soldiers pushed through, followed by a few big-wigs dressed in some strange ceremonial garb. \n\n\"Hey guys!,\" Mithras wandered by, drinking blood-red wine in a red Solo cup, \"Ready for the show?\"\n\n\"Yep.\" Pan said, \"I was just saying to Odin here that it is a shame.\"\n\n\"Fuck,\" Mithras said, \"I got no love for the guy. I was doing well until he came along.\" \n\n\"That was what I was saying.\" Odin said, \"This fucking carpenter and his mindless sheep...Stole my people...bunch of ball-less pussies...\" \n\nA bunch of soldiers were working on the ground, hammering away. There was a bunch of screaming. Suddenly, a number of figures were hoisted up onto the crosses. Some writhed, some cried out in pain. One or two just died immediately. \n\n\"Here we go,\" Pan said.\n\n\"Which one is he?\" Odin asked.\n\n\"The one with the sign.\" Mithras said, pointing to the one just to the right of center.\n\n\"King of the Jews?\" Odin said, \"That is like being king of the fucking Skrælings. Who gives a shit?\"\n\n\"It's meant to be an insult.\" Pan said, \"You take things too literally.\"\n\n\"Oh,\" Odin said, and took a swig off the beer, \"Good.\"\n\nThe day wore on, and it slowly crept towards noon. The devil showed up, goat-footed and drinking Fireball Whiskey from a glass tumbler.\n\n\"Mind if I get a splash of Coke?\" the Devil asked Pan.\n\n\"Sure, man.\" Pan said, and poured some Coke into the Devil's glass, \"Nice look.\"\n\n\"Yeah,\" the Devil said, \"Sorry about that. I meant to change into something else, but I just got back from a nasty little soiree in Salem.\"\n\n\"My sympathies.\" Odin said, smiling.\n\n\"Fuck you.\" The Devil said, \"I hate that song. Mick Fucking Jagger. I invented those moves.\"\n\n\"Tell me about it,\" Pan said, \"Imitation is the greatest form of flattery...\"\n\n\"Fuck you too...\" the Devil said, \"I got wings and shit. All you have is a hard-on and not much else.\"\n\n\"Shush...\" Mithras said, \"It's happening...\"\n\nThe sun became black. The Earth shuddered. The guy on the cross cried out in pain one last time. Everyone was silent for a few minutes. The Devil started crying.\n\n\"Been there, done that.\" said Odin, \"Except I was there nine-days and didn't pussy out and die.\"\n\n\"Why the fuck did he do that?\" Mithras asked, \"I mean he practically pounded the nails in himself. Who kills themselves like that?\"\n\n\"A suicide is always a big fuck-you to the survivors,\" the Devil said, wiping tears and snot from his face. He turned his eyes to heaven and began yelling, \"WELL FUCK YOU TOO! YOU KICK ME OUT AND LEAVE ME HERE ALONE WITH THESE FUCKING HAIRLESS MONKEYS? FUCK YOU!!!\"\n\nThe already dark afternoon slowly started to become evening. A few women took down the body and began wrapping it. They carried it off and the soldiers left with them.\n\nThe gods slowly left, abandoning the Devil alone on the hill. \n\n\"You want to die?\" the Devil muttered to the heavens, \"You really want to die for these ugly apes? Ok, then, I'll help you make this sick suicide complete. I'll make them think you are dead and non-existent. You will be forgotten like the rest of those posers who call themselves gods. I think I'll make these apes think that they are the gods, everyone will be a god. That will be a good joke, every ape on his own throne, thinking he is king of kings and lord of lords. Fuck you my old friend.\"\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n", "I said \"let there be light\"\n\nand I watched as everything I built was destroyed. \n\nI watched my children cause each other suffering, and destroy their own bodies.\n\nI watched the words I gave twisted and corrupted into something vitriolic and hateful. \n\nLet there be no more light. I want to see no more of this \n\n\"let there be darkness\"" ]	3
	[WP] You are the last human being alive. You are not lonely – in fact, you are happy.	[ "There is creation to be found in solace, I suppose. Perhaps the limits of one's imagination was put in place by everyone else. First, I mourned. The widespread loss of life throughout Earth. The loved ones I'll never see. \n\nThen, after several years of looking behind, I guessed it was time to move forward. Why not? I had only my own death to stop me. I planted, I built, I explored. Earth was my new playground. Soon, even I transcended death. The only limit to my freedom is the conclusion of this planet, as inevitable as my last breath. And yet, there remains time to create, to create, and escape.\n\nI smile at the thought, that somewhere in the heavens, they are waiting.\n\nAnd I will go up to see them, by my own hand.", "Being the last man on Earth makes you both incredibly notable and at the same time depressingly insignificant, which in itself is a very accurate depiction of the human species as a whole. \n\nFirst, there was denial, as it often goes. To be fair, waking up to an unexpectedly human-less planet does leave some questions to be asked. Some of these questions being our species' all time favorites such as, \"How?\", and \"Why?\". \n\nI decided to skip anger and bargaining, both of which seemed useless at this point to be honest, so on to depression it was. \n\nI think I could live alone out in the woods somewhere and be just fine. \n\nThe loneliness, I can get past. Maybe with a bit less sanity and a bit more self-indulgence than is regarded healthy, but I think I could do it. \n\nThe part that gets me is the reminder of what was, and what could have been. The monuments, the schools, the billboards, the technology, the everything. It had all become a part of our everyday normal lives. We forgot to step back and take in how truly impressive our present state as a species was, and how truly promising our future could be. \n\nSo I've decided I want to be humanity's last monument, in a way. If any intelligent life traverses this planet again, they'll find me, and this note, and they'll know that at least somebody finally stopped to smell the roses. \n\nKnow that now I'm either with my people again, or I am nothing; each outcome brings me peace. \n\nHere's to humanity and whoever comes next, great job and good luck. ", "I missed. \n \n\"Stupid ball,\" I grumbled. A vicious kick sent it sailing past Dad's car. He never would have let me play basketball with his precious Corvette in the driveway. \n \nI left the ball to roll casually toward the sidewalk as I climbed the front steps. The TV was still on. Attack On Titan streamed continuously for background noise. I'd already watched it enough times to mouth along with the dubs. \n \nIdly, I poked around in the pantry. The fridge was empty of all but condiments, and I couldn't magically turn the random things in the pantry into a meal. After all, I wasn't Mom. \n \nIn my room, I upended my backpack. The schoolwork was useless, but I threw the pens back in the bag. Some clothes were all I really needed for now, and I could scavenge everything else from abandoned stores. I'd need to avoid the bodies, of course. A few people had succumbed to the virus here in my hometown, but most had fled the area long before they actually died. \n \nI thumped back down the stairs to the living room, pausing to stare at the TV. Perfect timing. I spoke the familiar line aloud. \n \n\"If you win, you live. If you lose, you die.\" \n \nI opened the door and stepped outside. \n \n\"If you don't fight, you can't win!\" \n \nMy lips curled into a grin as I shouldered my backpack and sauntered away. " ]	3
	[WP] Every human soul that passes through the threshold of Death, discovers that Life was merely a pasture designed to ripen each soul for consumption.	[ "A black cloaked figure holding a worn black lacquered pot stood before four beings. One made entirely of light, one stood on hoofed feet, red piercing eyes, and the body of a man with curled horns protruding from the skull. It stood surrounded by smoke that emitted from its pores as if it was the embodiment of fire itself. The last two participants were similar but very different. They both appeared human; one was male and the other female. Though the female appeared to be from an ancient time, her dress flowed with a life of its own and the smell of purity emanated from her. The man was dressed in dapper fashion and clean cut, cleared his throat and spoke softly \"Well care to get this Roulette going?\" \nThe woman scoffed and replied \"A human? This is interesting...\" \nWhile the beast snorted and its voice thick, heavy with something supernatural exclaimed \"Know your place, food stock.\" \nThe Being of Pure Light laughed and its voice filled the area coming from all directions \"Yes let's begin, Death.\" \nDeath sighed and presented the jar, and spoke, its voice a deep whisper \"Soul Roulette. The rules are simple: a Death Jar that produces a random soul. If you can consume your soul you will advance, if not you're out. The last one remaining wins. The grand prize: what your heart desires.\" \nA snort erupted from the beast like thing as it retorted \"Food stock. I'm going to enjoy putting you in your place, and when I win I will devour you.\" \nDeath groaned and replied \"You’re being mighty confident beast…let’s see how well you hold up.\" \nDeath pealed back the paper-like covering revealing nothing but darkness. Each participant reached in and pulled out a respective single soul. \nThe human's was a green soul that seemed to flicker with different hues of green. \nWhile the beast's soul was a dark soul, completely pitch black nothing emitted from it. While the woman produced red soul that had a small flame in the center dancing wildly. Finally the being of pure light withdrew a very small soul that was the size of a distant star and shimmered brightly. \nThe human slipped the emerald colored soul past his lips and devoured it easily giving a small grin. While the woman did the same, she did not smile. She moaned and began to fidget in place. Small beads sweat appears on her brow. It did not take long until she was on her knees heaving before she gripped her throat and expelled the soul. \nDeath pointed a pony finger at the woman and proclaimed “An impure soul, how sad for you. You didn’t even make it passed the first round. Better luck next time Goddess.” Death waved its bony hand and she disappeared from sight. \nThe human slid his fingers through his hairs and spoke with feigned sympathy “Oh…I would’ve let her had mine. It was a bit…too…lean for my taste. Maybe either one of you would’ve enjoyed them? Oh wait not you my horned competitor…that might make you sick.” The beast growled and stomped one of its hoofed foot onto the ground as retorted “I can devour anything food sack!” The human smiled and replied as he gave a wicked grin “Prove it.” All the while the Pure Light being hovered there saying nothing as death waved its hand beckoning the contestants to continue on. \n\nThe second round they each reached in and this time the human retrieved a soul that appeared very transparent and dim. He groaned and looked at it, but he did not hesitate and swallowed the soul without a thought. He gave a cough and the beast looked at him for a moment before it saw that the man had merely coughed due to the flavor of the soul. He did consume it successfully. The beast gave a slight growl as it pulled out a large soul that was transparent, yet at the core it shimmered brightly. Surrounding it were smaller beads of light. The beast stared at it for a moment, before Death broke its concentration “Beast you must devour it to continue it. Can you pull off such a task I wonder?” The beast laughed and took the large soul into its claw like hands. It began to swirl it black nails around the thing and gradually the large soul shrank, yet it still shone brightly. Finally after a couple of minutes the beast consumed its soul with no trouble at all. \nThe last participant, the being of pure light, withdrew a soul that was transparent and did not shine. The being consumed it in silence. \nDeath withdrew the jar and for the first time it shook the jar. The beast growled and exclaimed “Why now? I thought it was random.” Death simply replied with an indifferent tone “My arm was getting tired.” Death switched arms and presented the jar once again, beckoning the competitors to come forward and choose. \nThe pure light stopped and withdrew itself stating “I forfeit. But I would like to continue watching.” \nDeath gave a veiled nod as the beast and the man continued on. This time around the man pulled a soul that was different from the previous ones. This one was locked in a cycle of where it gorged upon itself. The man hesitated and stared at the soul watching as it continued to gorge on itself over and over. While the beast pulled a soul that blinded everyone. Death leaned away and looked away. While the man closed his eyes, and the beast gave a scream as the light from the soul burned its black skin turning it to ash. The beast gave one last scream as it turned to ash and the bright soul returned to the jar, leaving Death, the man, and the pure light. Death let go of the jar and disappeared in a whisk of smoke. It approached the man and stated “Devour it to win your heart’s desire and be devoured by it.” \nThe pure light’s infinite voice commanded “Death, you may leave.” Death nodded through the veil and disappeared while the man still held the self-gorging soul in his hands. “Well? What do you see?” The man looked at the pure light and timidly replied “I see myself.” The pure light replied with the same authority it used with Death “Yes. It’s beautiful is it not? All of your actions culminated into this: the insatiable soul. If you devour it you shall live forever but the cost is you shall never be sated…or you can forfeit your prize – what is your choice?” \n", "“Come on through Simon everyone is eager to meet you” I was afraid at this point and you would think I would only have been afraid as I died but that fear stayed with me.\n\nI had no idea where I was, was this heaven, hell or something else? The room is spacious without being too big but is it ostentatious. High back chairs that are as black as I have ever seen gilded with silver and gold patterns that catch the light. Amazing paintings hang on every wall filled with scenes from worlds I have never seen or knew existed. A jet back table inlay-ed with gold artwork and a beautiful crystal dinner set, 12 people sit around it all looking at me intently.\n\nI am sat at the head of the table as the host said “Tonight we have a very special person over for dinner he is the first person ever to complete a 1000 item bucket list, journeyed to every country on Earth, had a long and fulfilling life. Never has a soul come to us with this much experience. He has been there and done it all. Savoir this as it may never come again”\n\nI was proud of my life, at 8 I had child hood leukemia and made a list of 1000 places to visit and things to do. At the time of my death at the age of 98 I had climbed Everest, completed 2 PHD's, spoke 5 languages and had 15 grand children and 4 great grandchildren. A life to be proud of. I never stole or hurt anyone and always lived to further my knowledge of the world and to experience everything in it.\n\nSitting at the head of the table I felt honored and respected as if it really all was worth it what more could I have done with my life, maybe this is heaven.\n\nMy host taps his glass with a small golden knife “Now my friends lets us start the meal”\n\nI put my hand up before anyone could move and asked “Why do we need to eat if we are all dead?”\n\nA bemused look came over the hosts perfect face. “My boy we are not dead you are, your soul left your body and due to it's unique amount of experience you made it all the way to the top. To us, so that we can eat you”\n\n“Eat me? Are you serious”\n\n“Yes very much so, we here around this table have sampled souls from all over the universe only the very best make it to our table”\n\nStalling for time if it still exists here I ask what happens to all the people that did not live a life like mine. \n\n“Well we have many hungry mouths to feed and souls are our food, your soul and the souls of billions of humans and other beings we farm are parceled out to our kind. The best souls like your's the ones who have the most experiences are sent to us as only the best ever reaches this table\"\n\nWith that I grabbed the nearest piece of cutlery and threw it at him. I am not sure that ever happened to them before as it made my host stand stock still for a few seconds whilst I leaped for the door.\n\nI am hiding in a small room and I can hear them searching for me, somehow I have to get this information back to earth.", "I watched silently as fresh crop made its way into the auditorium. \n\nYoung children taken too soon, the diseased, the elderly, the damned. All eyes wide in awe and terror. Their pain relieved, their wounds healed, their fate sealed.\n\nEntities as old as mankind sauntered toward them. Wicked grins with razor teeth, fleshy, and rotting and hungry. The ancients were always the first to dine. They made their way through the crop, towering over the tallest of them like behemoths, their claws and tendrils inspecting each morsel in turn.\n\nThe children. The children were always first. So scared. So innocent. Their screams were always the hardest to endure. The ancients ripped and chewed and gulped, licking blood with their long black tongues. \n\nOnce they had their fill, it was our turn to feed. I still had a hard time feeding, even now. This was only my sixth crop, and I had not yet become a true soul-eater.\n\nI still looked human to them.\n\nThe ancients had filled them with the deepest horror. But we newcomers were different. We showed them the truth. We showed them what would become of those who survived.\n\nAs I tore into the soft flesh of the scared young man, I almost cried. They tell us to live decent lives in the human world, to be kind, and to love.\n\nWhat a cruel joke that the innocent should become the food of the wicked.\n\n", "\"The soul market is a very lucrative and fruitful business.\" \n\n\"Sure, there is an abundance of your run of the mill generic souls who just go through life doing nothing significant. Some deities actually prefer the taste of average souls. You see, there are beings, with how should I put this, acquired tastes? They are willing to pay top dollar for specially matured souls!\"\n\n\"And this is where I come in. Oh sorry, I forgot to introduce myself. I am what you would call a byproduct of the soul market. I fulfill niches in the market that require special skills. I am not a sole trader you see but I am the best of the best. I pride myself in delivering quality and accurate merchandise to my buyers. I go by many names, people even refer me to the deity death himself. My contacts, rivals and customers call me Grim, humans call me The Grim Reaper. Yeah I am pretty famous.\"\n\n\"If I were to describe my services, I would compare myself to a Michelin star restaurant providing expensive cuisines versus cheap, fast food joints that provide your average meal. I pride myself into going out of the way to procure specially prepared souls for my discerning customers. I don't judge, you want an infant soul then you will get a fresh, untainted premature infant soul! You like serial killers who get away with all their crimes and die at old age, then that's exactly what you get! The more specific your requests, the higher the charge. I accept half before the work (fully refundable if criteria is unmet), and half upon deliverance of the product. I have yet to refund anyone!\"\n\n\"What sets me apart from my rivals is I procure fresh souls. I don't stockpile and hand out the closest match. I don't display my wares for people to browse. I go by word of mouth from delivering unprecedented and excellent service to my clients. Upon request I even reveal myself to humans before their dying moments.This supposedly adds an interesting aftertaste to the souls. All upon request of course, no one gets anything they didn't pay for. Not many reapers do this because it makes it extremely hard for us to extract the soul from an aware human being, but I am a pro.\"\n\n\"You must be wondering what the hell counts as currency here? What's in it for the reapers? Well, we kind of need to consume soul energy to survive. Its byproduct leftover from deity meals. I guess you could say its deity poop. We can't separate memories and feelings from the energy of the soul, its actually poisonous to us. But deities use it to get their kicks. The downside is soul energy is tasteless, so for us its quantity over quality. There was a time when deities walked the earth and they would just take souls themselves. They created us because they needed an efficient way to dispose of useless soul energy, and because gathering souls was beneath them. We all have our place.\"\n\n\"You must be thinking this is all inhumane and what the point of life is. Well its the price of free will. Deities are pretty up themselves you know. After centuries, someone decided that it was too cruel to farm human destinies to make ideal tasting souls. And it really was depressing eating a set flavor of souls. What they lacked was variety so free will was born. We don't interfere with humans and they live out life however they see fit. This was mind blowing to the deities, for the souls that were created from the randomness of humans tasted so much better then anything they could have thought up! And there were also enough souls with generic template tastes with slight deviations here and there.\" \n\n\"Now deities can get their fix from trying out the big chain reapers that go quantity over quality and hoping to roll lucky with an exceptional soul out of a million. Or if they liked the good old days where they could influence the taste of souls, which is a highly outlawed practice, they could come to vendors like me! We go for quality and sometimes spend weeks waiting for a soul to die so I can take it for my clients. Usual rate for soul is one soul energy for two souls. But I can charge upwards of a thousand or even a million soul energies depending on the requirements of the customer!\"\n\n\"So why are you telling me all this?\" Questions, one of the reasons I hate revealing myself. Well the requirements were pretty specific. Find a male atheist and reveal yourself to them. Check! Tell them the bleak reality of the purpose of a soul. Check! Answer all his questions and convince him to willingly come without force. Fuck! \"Well I am just filling out requirements from a client who is paying me top dollar for you. Now I need you to come willingly. So can you accept this and just come with me?\" Poor guy was horrified at my emotionless businesslike tone. Oh, and also what I told him. \n\n\"Wait what?! NO Get the fuck away from me! I refuse so leave me alone.\" I was beginning to lose my patience now. I whip out my scythe to intimidate him. \"Well I guess I am going to have to do it painfully then.\" An idea popped in his head. I don't like it when they use their brains. \"W-Well wont you fail if you have to take me by force? Wont you have to return the deposit and sully your reputation?\" Why was one of the requirements to tell him everything?! \n\n\"Well if that is how you want to play it, then let me tell you about your options. You either come willingly and pass through like normal. The process of your soul being taken is painless if you want it to be. And when you leave with a reaper, you lose your consciousness forever. That means you don't even feel let alone comprehend the fact that you are being devoured.\"\n\n\"Your other option is to just stay here in the veil. Your body will be buried and you will watch your loved ones die. You will watch them get turned into souls by other reapers, maybe even me. Your spirit will experience madness from being alone and left behind for eternity. I can make it so that no reaper ever turns you into a soul. No matter how hard you scream, no matter how badly you want to be turned.\"\n\nHe looked at me with bewilderment. He didn't need to think, humans ultimately want peace. Its in their design, and this isn't my first rodeo. \"Fine, you win. Lets get this over with. Can I at least know who is going to eat me?\" I was puzzled by his request, not that it mattered if he knew. \"Agnos, the god of atheists!\" \n\nAnd with a fell swoop of my scythe he turned into my million energy soul. I love my job!", "The soft weight of my daughter’s hand on my own lifted my foggy mind back to semi-consciousness. \n\nLight wavered at the center of my vision, distorting my perception of the blue hospital bed fabric. Sand shifted between my toes as the cool sea gently rocked me back and forth, warm summer sun beating down on my shoulders. Instead of seagulls and waves, I heard the beeping of the heart monitor, distant and muffled. It melted into the chiming beat of the song being played by my toddler jumper as I bounced towards my mother’s open arms. Orange lights, green lights, a flash with every step. The dog’s fur brushed across my leg as the ball left my brother’s hand, arcing through the bright sky towards the trees in the back yard. A faraway whistle. The light of a flashlight cut through the leaves, blinding me as we searched for the dog. I remembered our efforts were futile. A gentle tug on my hand drew me back to the soft blue blanket.\n\nThe nurse passed by the bed to check the monitor. Someone’s tears dripped onto my hand as the light filled my vision again, and then I was falling – falling back into the spectrum of memories. I braced myself for the next sensation. There wasn’t one. Straining against my unraveling mind, I struggled to find a grip on my thoughts. Was I dying? Where was I? Who was I?\n\nThe light was still there. It hungered for more. Hungered for what--?\n\nA feeling of intense horror sank in as I began to understand. All my memories over the course of a lifetime – the fragments that made up my identity had been siphoned away by this predatory entity that now left me with nothing, as nothing.\n\nThe pressure on my hand lifted, drawing me senseless, back to the bed. I found myself staring at the tube protruding from an emaciated arm. My arm? I couldn’t recall. The light pulled away, disappearing along with my vision as I felt the last pulsations of my heart dwindle into nothing.\n\nDarkness enveloped my hapless soul.", "\"A lifetime of experiences\", the book said. \"That's what it takes for someone to be mature enough\".\n\nI reflected on these words. My mother wrote this book just before she died. I remember her writing it. I was just a boy at the time, yet I understood that she knew things that I didn't. When I stumbled across this book today after so many years, I did not know that I would be old enough to understand it. \n\nIt all made sense now, and with it came a crashing sense of realization. A moment where everything fell right in place like some sort of jigsaw.\n\nEvery time I questioned the purpose of my existence, it was just to mature myself for the end.\nEvery heartbreak, every leap of joy, every last morsel of emotion was just part of a grand scheme written to prepare me.\n\nA moment that made me fall to my knees.\n\nBecause that meant that this emotion too, just like the ones before was for the same purpose, and that it meant no more and no less than the sharpest pain or the most euphoric memory.\n\nA moment that made me cry\n\nI remember running up to her, barely able to tie my shoelaces together.\n\n\"Ma, why should someone be mature?\"\n\n\"Consider the odds of all the scattered atoms and cells coming together so you can exist. Being mature gives some quality to your life, so you can compare your ups and downs. For as long as you exist, let it have some meaning.\"\n\n\"And what happens when you're mature enough?\", I might have asked.\n\n\"That's when you become ready to be consumed\", she would say.\n\n\"Consumed by what?\", I would ask.\n\n\"By the universe of course. We all end up as stardust after all, back from where we come from.\"\n" ]	6
	[WP] You wake up one morning as your 10 year old self. You try to explain to your mom that you are a successful adult, as she tries to get you ready for school.	[ "I am woken from sleep by a gentle rub on the back, and the words, “Wake up, J, it's time to get ready for school.” School? What? I open my eyes, and see that I am in my old bedroom, in the old house. I look at my mom. Wow, she's so young. So pretty. Am I dreaming?\n\nI get up, turn on the light, and – Wait! The light went on. The light never works when I am dreaming. That's how I know it's a dream. What the hell? I look in the mirror, and it's me, a 10 year old me, to be precise. Holy crap. I hear Mom go into my sister's room to wake here.\n\n“Mom, what's today's date?” I yell.\n\n“You know what the date is,” my mom says.\n\n“Humor me,” I reply. She pokes her head back into my bedroom, and looks at me oddly.\n\n“September 23, 1980,” she says, before going into my sister's room again, to help her pick out her clothes for the day.\n\nThere is no way this is happening. This – oh, no, they did NOT just do that!!!! Mother-forking CERN! I seem to have switched into another timeline, as impossible as it sounds. I sit on the edge of my bed, with my head in my hands, trying to process what might have happened. \n\nMom comes into my room again, and asks, “J, are you ok?” I look up at her and she says, “Oh honey, you're so pale.”\n\n“Headache,” I mumble. Right now, it's the absolute truth. My stomach starts heaving and I race into the bathroom, just making it in time to vomit in the toilet. Mom comes in, and rubs my back. She feels my forehead with the back of her hand.\n\n“Well, you don't seem to have a fever,” she says. “But I'll call Dr. Green, and see if he can see you today.”\n\n“I'll be ok,” I mumble. “Let's wait and see how I feel tomorrow.”\n\nNow mom looks especially concerned. At 10, I'd play up any small illness, in order to stay home. A doctor visit always ended with a note excusing me from school for at least a few days. \"Go back to bed, honey. Try to rest.” I go back to my room, and lay down under the quilt. \n\nOh, I loved that quilt! It was patchwork, on a light green background, with cartoon animals in the squares. I remember going to the outlets to get that quilt. I slept with that quilt until it was so tattered it fell apart.\n\nMom brings in an empty trash can, and put some towels down by my pillow, in case I am sick again. Which is pretty likely. She asks, “Can I get you anything?” Yeah, coffee. And a cigarette. I tell her I'd like a cup of water.\n\nAs I hear Mom on the phone, calling into work, I try all of my reality checks to see if there is a possibility I am dreaming. Light – on and off. Reading – I can read everything just fine. Phone – the numbers are clear and bold. If it's a dream, it's like no other dream I can recall. Forking CERN. Dammit!! The physicists running the proton accelerator admitted that they really didn't know what would happen. With my PhD in math, I knew something odd might happen when they brought it up to full speed, but I certainly didn't expect anything like this!\n\nDad comes into my room, kisses me good-bye, and tells me to feel better. He's so young, too. Slim, a full head of hair. Handsome. Both of my parents are younger then I am – was – will be? Maybe I should try to sleep, see if I wake up as an adult again. \n\nNot that I could sleep, of course. I have a lot of processing to do.\n\nI've always kept a journal. It's the best way to figure things out, to process, and to clear my head. I look in the green backpack next to my bed, and pull out a random spiral notebook. It's the beginning of the school year, so the notebook is mostly empty. I turn to the first blank page, and begin to write.\n\n--am I the only one?\n--was it really caused by CERN? Can't think of anything else\n--It can't be just me, unless I am dreaming\n--I don't seem to be dreaming\n--Will I stay at this age, or go back to my 40 year old life, or just go randomly to another age?\n\nMore questions than answers. The biggest question, of course - How in the world do I explain this to my parents? \n\nTo be continued...\n", "Temporal displacement via avatar overlay is not a recommended version of time travel. Of course, since I was the first to travel in this manner and was completely ignorant of how it functioned that was unhelpful to me at the time. Accidental time travel; it’s a thing. Most people don’t know it’s possible and the powers that be are happier if it remains an unknown to prevent panic. Imagine if you could go to bed and wake up ten years old again? Or if walking out the door of a pub could land you in another continent before you left? Or if you went on vacation in France and discovered you had slipped through time to the days of the French Revolution?\n\nI’d fantasized about time slips before. Most everyone I know has. You think about the age where everything was more or less okay for you and think about what changes could be made that would create the best outcome over time as the changes you made multiplied. The game was to think of the small changes and try to snowball it.\n\nThere’s even an entire genre of it on TV Tropes, called the Peggy Sue, for that movie \"Peggy Sue Got Married\" where it happens to the main character. Some of my favorite stories can be found in the trope, because let’s face it who hasn’t made a mistake they’d love to be able to correct? None of the stories I’d read ever talked about how groggy you are after the event. They never said how to deal with the head full of fuzz you get from the sudden displacement overlay. No, they all had author avatars who were able to brilliantly prove who they were and when they came from thanks to clever memorization of external facts like lottery numbers and memorization of minute factoids and assorted microevents.\n\nShit! Do you remember what you ate on the fifth Thursday in July twenty-eight years ago? I certainly didn’t! And to do it with a head full of cotton balls besides?\n\nI felt like I’d lost well over half my IQ when I was awoken by the irritated voice of my mother for the second time to get up and get dressed for school. So much so at first I didn’t really remember that my Mom was dead and that the room I was in was definitely not the one I went to sleep in…\n\nThat thought was enough to cause me to sit up in bed abruptly. A mistake because now with all the grogginess I had already been dealing with I also had to deal with a sudden rush of blood to the head—it did not help. As I blinked my eyes to try and restore the vision that had been overshadowed by black spots I began to clumsily make my way to the edge of the bed. I couldn’t help but feel slightly punch drunk.\n\nPulling on the clothes sitting on the chair besides my bed I tried to pull together some coherence in thought but everything was still muddled. I estimated I must be about ten or eleven by the presence of the giant stuffed Pink Panther in the corner and the lack of Atari 2600 in the corner. That wasn’t something I got until Christmas or my birthday I wasn’t sure which at this point.\n\nI walked down the steps and saw my Mom had on the coffee pot and had poured me a cup of coffee and placed the milk and a box of donuts on the table from the gas station. My brother and sister were already seated and eating. My brother looked at me solemnly and said ‘You’re late.\" My sister just babbled at me happily and kept squeezing the jelly out of her donut.\n\nI couldn’t help myself. I ran over to my Mom and gave her a big hug. At this point it’d been three years since her death to me. Even if this was all just a dream I was determined to at least get a hug from her before I woke.\n\n\"Tough night, huh?\" She said with a smile. Then she pointed to the table. \"I’m happy to see you too, but you need to eat and get ready for school.\"\n\n\"I love you Mom!\" I blubbered.\n\nShe didn’t think too much of it until she saw my eyes. Understand, I hated school at this age. I had nothing but trouble with fellow students and due to a disability and crippling ignorance on the part of both teachers and students went through each day in misery. Crying about having to go to school was nothing out of the ordinary.\n\n\"Kids I’m going to talk to your brother in the other room. Finish eating your breakfast.\" Mom said as she lead me slightly out of earshot to the living room around the corner from the kitchen.\n\n\"What’s wrong?\" She asked me.\n\n\"I miss you so much.\" I said sobbing. \"I know this is just a dream and I’m an adult but I still miss my Mom.\"\n\nMom looked at me confused. \"You had a dream you were older?\" She asked.\n\n\"Yeah, I’m older. I’m almost forty.\"\n\n\"Yeah, you’re an old man, I can tell.\" She said relieved looking since she knew she had a handle on things. Bad dreams were an area most mothers understood. And besides that the tearful mornings weren’t anything new at this point.\n\n\"I am. I have a car. I live in an apartment and go to work and everything.\" I said.\n\n\"Why don’t you tell me about it while you eat, huh?\" Mom replied as she lead me back to the kitchen table and placed a maple frosted in front of me.\n\nI sat down at the chair and suddenly felt hungrier than I could ever recall being. I quickly began eating.\n\nMy brother looked at me then at mom and asked if I was going to be okay in a faux whisper. She replied that I was fine, I’d just had a bad dream. My sister had finished squeezing the jelly out and eating it and was now banging the shell on her plate chanting ‘bad’ at it.\n\n\"It wasn’t a dream!\" I interjected. \"I was an old man when I went to bed and now I’m a little kid again.\"\n\nMom smiled and made eating motions.\n\nI finished the donut in hand and reached for another one while drinking my coffee.\n\nMy little brother just curled his lips into a smirk. He clearly found the idea of me being old a funny image.\n\nI tried again. \"I had a car and a job and I lived in my own apartment.\"\n\n\"Oh yeah?\" he shot back, \"Who cooked for you if you lived in an apartment?\"\n\n\"I cooked for myself.\" I replied.\n\n\"You’re not allowed to use the stove by yourself!\" He returned triumphantly.\n\n\"I can too, because I’m an adult!\" I rejoined. \"That means I’m responsible for myself and I have to cook my own meals!\"\n\n\"What kind of job did you have?\" Mom wanted to know.\n\n\"I work with computers at an office building. It’s kind of boring though. I like my computers at home better because I can do whatever I want with them.\" I explained.\n\n\"You have computers at home too?\" She asked amusement coloring her voice.\n\n\"Yeah, I plug my computer into my TV and watch movies on it.\" I told her.\n\n\"Oh?\" She prompted. \"Does that mean you have a lot of money?\"\n\n\"No, not really. I don’t make more than ten dollars an hour. But it’s enough for me to pay the rent.\" I told her.\n\n\"Do you have a girlfriend?\" She asked me next.\n\n\"I’m sort of seeing one girl, but we’re taking it slow.\" I explained.\n\nShe just giggled at that then noticed the time and told me to finish my coffee and go brush my teeth.\n\nI went to the bathroom and brushed my teeth, goggling at the sight of myself being so young again. I spent too much time staring at the mirror though because before I knew it my brother was opening the door and telling me we had to get to the bus stop. I told him go ahead without me.\n\nI tried to talk to Mom, but she just handed me my winter coat and told me to get after my brother so I didn’t make him wait alone.\n\nWhy did I ever want to be younger again? No one ever believes a kid about anything!" ]	2
	[WP] You step inside again, trying to figure out precisely what it was you did wrong.	[ "You and I both know, after all this time, that I CAN'T UNDERSTAND YOU.\n\nI get it! I did something wrong! I did a bad thing! I don't know WHAT I did, but you yelling isn't helping. \n\nYes. I see you pointing. There, and then at me, and then there. And now over there. What are you trying to say? All I'm hearing from you is squawk squawk. I DON'T SPEAK YOUR LANGUAGE. \n\nOkay, let's go through this one more time. Now, you were over in the kitchen, and I was walking around here, around the coffee table, just like this. Nothing wrong with that.\n\nAnd then, there was this smell - ooh, yes. Just like that. Oooh, is that chicken? Do you mind if I just-\n\nHe tilted his head and slurped out his tongue, devouring the fresh plate of chicken from the coffee table. \n\nShe shrieked at him, \"Ralph! We just talked about this! Don't eat my food! Bad dog! Bad!\"\n\nWhat? What did I do? I CAN'T UNDERSTAND YOU, HUMAN. ", "The salty taste in your mouth is the first thing you notice. The burning in your eyes and a headache as if you have just woken up from the best open-bar christmas party you've ever visited, will follow closely. I got used to these things. They mean I have to start over - again. \n\nScrambling to my feet, the noise hits my ears. Shouting, screaming, loud bangs, the whizzing of air.\n\nMy body starts moving on its own. By now, the first dodges are made easily, without having to think about it. I step aside to hear a terrible scream, coming from the man who just filled my spot. I run, west, as running north would result in another taste of the salt. A fate the less... \"veteran\"... men who were running forward experienced quite efficiently when the start of the minefield was reached.\n\nOne thing is different this time. And, honestly, it scares the shit out of me. Why can I not remember what went wrong the last time? I was so close. The look of surprise on the face of Papa Tango when bursting into the hiding place is the last thing that comes to mind before the salt entered my mouth. \n\n\"There must have been a goddamn guard hiding in that place\", I cursed under my breath. \"I'm sick of the salt, and those goddamn headaches\". \n\nI keep running west. The hiding place of Papa Tango is located far west of the heavily defended landfall site. The landfall was supposed to be near to, maybe even on top of the hiding place. Also, the resistance was supposed to be insignificant. \n\n\"The intel must have done a terrible job on this one...\", I keep thinking while my headache is finally fading and my target gets closer and closer.\n\nThe hiding place doesn't look like much. It's no more than a quickly constructed hole beneath the ground. By instinct, I drop the three guards within the vicinity without much effort. \n\n\"I'll get this fucker this time\", I tell myself while running to the entrance. Bracing myself, I kick in the door and scan the room quickly but carefully not to miss any details. Seeing the first room is clear, I close the door and bar it. While doing this, it feels familiar. \n\n\"I did this last time as well\". \n\nConfused, I move on. Entering the next room I see him, Papa Tango. This time, there is no surprise in his face. \n\n\"Nice to see you again, private. Enjoy the salt\".\n\nAll went bright and salt filled my mouth.\n ", "“There is a certain alien grasp that consumes the mind when it experiences death firsthand. It is a sharp adjustment in the heart of human perception that simultaneously asks and answers dozens of questions that deal with death, life and existentialism in its most basic structure. To say it is merely a change would be mollifying; what occurs is a violent and immediate alteration on one’s grasp of what we are, where we are going and how the fuck we are going to get there. \n\n“As you know, at the decidedly innocent age of eighteen I experienced death for the first time. And when I say experienced death, I don’t mean that half memory everyone has of standing around at an unimportant relative’s funeral as the adults spoke in hushed tones and smiled with their heads down. Not one of those memories where you can vividly remember the little triangular sandwiches that were left going stale on paper plates more than the face of the deceased woman on your mothers side whose long predicted death brought you all to this stygian and customary rendezvous. These are the moments in life that supposedly prepare us for death.\n\n“And yet, no preparation of any caliber could have prepared me for the flood of emotion that is dumped on the brain when you see someone die, violently and horrifically. There is no poetry to it; and there is no sense of the cycle of life. If you look another human being in the eyes as they experience the very moment they make the transition from being alive to whatever it is that follows, a part of you goes with them. \n\n“Her eyes. Her fucking eyes pierced me. Why did I have to be there at that moment? If I had arrived five minutes earlier I would have been on the two forty-five bus home. I would have heard about it on the news, remarked on how life can be shitty and never given it a thought again. But her eyes. I saw into them the moment she left this world. Between the screaming, the blood, the horrific stench of offal.. It’s her eyes that I can never forget.\n\n“I’m sorry. I tried my best to explain this as best as I could, Mom. Please don’t blame yourself for any of this. You always did the right thing. You were there for me, from day one right until the very end. I love you, and I need you to remember that until the day you die. Because everyone, someday, is going to die. And knowing that it could be just around the corner was too much for me. I love you.”\n\n\nThe air escaped Amy’s lungs as her legs gave way. And as the world went black around her, the widowed and now mother of none scrambled to hold her son’s cold hand, and let out a bloodcurdling wail that would prompt the nosy pensioner from number ten next door to call the police.\n\nThis is the first thing I've written in a very, very long time, and also my first post in WP. Please be gentle, although any form of acknowledgment or criticism is highly appreciated, and even more highly anticipated. I've never showed anybody something personal I've written like this. Cheers.\n", "The door looked strange: older somehow, more faded, even though I had just walked out only moments before. The air was different, too. In fact, nothing felt the same as it did when I first walked out of that door. Deep breaths, my mantra, the only thing that got me through days like today, was on repeat in my head.\n\nIt had been A Morning. One of those dreary winter mornings that inspired a fake migraine, a phone call to the boss, and laying in bed all day with a good book and a quiet house. The fight from last night lingered on after we woke, but silently. Harsh words continued to sting around the edges of the void in those left unsaid. When he finally left for work an hour before me, I felt my anxiety peak, a now daily occurrence. He knew I needed him to assure me, and I knew he was tired of it, but he had done little over the course of months to make me trust him again, to believe he would not go off and sleep with her anymore. He got home from work extremely late last night, triggering me again to frightened tears and hyperventilation. As each minute ticked by past 5:30pm, as his dinner grew colder, I busied myself with motherhood and tried to keep the worst feelings at bay. Eat your broccoli, sweetheart, building a LEGO tower and knocking it down, bathtime, reading, tucking in... and as my son drifted off to sleep, I drifted back into paranoia. \n\nHe came home as I was kneeling on the living room floor, tears streaming down my face, scooping the last of the LEGO tower into a box. He looked exhausted. \"Oh, honey,\" he said, half frustrated, half nurturing. \n\nI didn't have the energy anymore to simmer, so I immediately jumped into it, \"Where have you been?\" His excuses seemed valid. He showed me his phone, his calendar, even offered to let me call his boss and verify where he was. That she wasn't there. But nothing helped. My mind had worked overtime with him. Shattered trust is so difficult to build back, and when the broken pieces are stomped into shards, is it even possible anymore? The first time it happened, I might have been able to forgive him. The second, third, fourth times ... I was not so sure anymore. \n\n\"Talk to me please,\" he begged, his eyes so tired, new lines around them deepening. Where had those come from? \n\nI couldn't. I had nothing to say that would fix this. And neither did he. But we tried. Except words turned into threats turned into violence. It was the first time he ever hit me. I deserved it; I called him \"a cheating, narcissistic bastard, just like your father,\" which I knew would hit a nerve. I wanted him to be hurt like he hurt me. And then he hurt me right back, by pushing me into the bedroom and backhanding me against the wall. The ringing in my ears didn't stop me from weeping, but as I looked up, he looked so broken. So horrified. Staring at his hand like it was that of a ghost. \"Oh my god, oh my god,\" he said over and over, sinking to the floor against the bed. I crawled to him and lay my head in his lap. He stroked my hair. And we fell asleep there.\n\nThat tenderness did not last, however, and the next morning we were back to cold-shouldering one another. After he left in silence, I woke my son and got him ready for daycare, going through the motions, a shade of myself. The pain was unbearable. When I leaned over my son to buckle him into his carseat, tiny fingers trailed along my cheeks. His eyes, blue and gorgeous, just like Daddy's, just watched me. Not a word from his little mouth. I looked back at him for a moment and felt the tiniest bit of peace. Closed my eyes, his fingers so soft against my cheeks. The peace grew. Flooded me. Deep breaths. Deep breaths. Deep breaths.\n\n\n~\n\n\nThe next thing I knew I was standing at the front door. Blinking. Did I walk up here? I turned around to check on my son, and he wasn't in the car. In fact, the car wasn't in the driveway. Panic. No more deep breaths, just shortened gasps and - a scream. It took me a moment to realize it was me that was screaming. What happened? Where is my son? Whatthefuckhappened?!\n\nI ran out into the driveway, yelling his name. \"Casey? CASEY WHERE ARE YOU?!\" I could barely say his name without gasping, sobbing, and I fell to my knees. I was so panicked and confused. Then I heard it the front door open. I turned to look - who was in my house? \n\nOh, thank god, it was Will. My Will. The husband who hurt me so deeply looked like home to me right then. Except... what was he doing home? And... so young and handsome, without those sad lines around his eyes or the greys in his hair. He was dressed casually, not for work, like he was going out grocery shopping. \n\nHe looked horrified. Confused. Hesitant. \"Will?\" I called out. And he backed into the darkness of the hallway, out of my sight.\n\nI heard him call out, \"Dad? I ... uh... I think you need to come out here.\" \n\nDad?\n\nWait.\n\nDad. \n\nSlowly I stood up and, in a daze, made my way back to the open door. Things came into focus. The door was older. The porch was faded and the paint was peeling. The wreath I made, gone. The air was warmer. Grass, green. Flowers, blooming. \"Mom,\" a whisper.\n\n\"Casey,\" was all I could reply. He was... he was grown up. A teenager. And Will walked up behind him, significantly older this time, more grey than not, those lines now a treasure map on his face, X marks the spot. Anger and sadness and relief washed over him visibly, flickering in his features all at once.\n\n\"You're back - \" croaked out Will, tears pooling in his beautiful eyes. \"Bea... you're... here. You're really here. Oh my god.\" \n\n\"Mom....\" Casey said, \"where have you been?\"\n\nI had no fucking clue. I thought I was... I thought I was here the whole time. Wasn't I here the whole time? Did I really - what? What the fuck? \"I have no fucking clue,\" I admitted.\n\n\"It's been... Beatrix, it's been... years. We thought you were dead.\" \n\nI looked down at my hands to make sure I wasn't, somehow, dead. They looked mostly the same: veins more prominent, a different set of wedding rings, but still, my hands. \n\nA different set of wedding rings. \n\nA new panic. \n\nA quiet memory of a stranger waking me this morning, soft voice and strong arms, my love for him as deep as the sea. That man was not Will. The life I built with Will... I escaped it. Made a new one. Without even remembering. Oh my god. I had read about this.\n\nA fugue.\n\n\"I'm back now.\" \n\n-----------\n\nNot really happy with the end but, eh. Great prompt though, thanks /u/Moppity!", "I had gone over the scenario so many times, and regardless of how many instances I went back and did it again, he still died.\n\nMyron was too much to lose. I couldn't just move on. Some might call me obsessive; others, mad; still, some might say that I'm just stupid.\n\nThey don't know anything about me.\n\nMyron was my best friend. The only one I'd had for a long time growing up. He always pushed me to become the best person I could be. It didn't matter to him that I was different from the others. He couldn't have cared less about my abilities.\n\nThat's what connected us. His willingness to see past what I was, and really delve into who I was. I guess it was part that he was just a good guy, part that he too, had special powers.\n\nOf course, that isn't to say that what I am isn't something that hard to look past. It glares at you like that piece of cake at a weight-loss convention.\n\nBut even with the skills that I possess, I still can't save him. I still can't keep him from dying.\n\nHe was in a large room, fighting off some of the men sent to kill us. Since we had powers, we weren't necessarily liked by the government; especially because of the fact that we were young. If you discovered your powers when you were old, it was too late to hone them and make them useful, and therefore non-threatening.\n\nHowever, if you figure out how to use them early in life, you have plenty of time to practice and train to utilize your powers to the fullest potential.\n\nIt was this scare that sent these government troops after us inside of the warehouse we trained in.\n\nWe were split up, considering we trained in different rooms in order to have maximum freedom. Because of this, one of us had to either disable or kill all of the attackers in their room to help the other, or we would be dead.\n\nIt all happens just like always does:\nThe men come in through the door and pull their guns and aim them directly at me. I then blast the air directly at them, mis-directing their bullets and knocking them out of position. I quickly grab my pistol and fire 5 clean, direct shots. All 5 of them pierce their skulls perfectly, blood spattering on their uniforms just like always.\n\nThen I turn. I run to the door. One, two, three steps to make it. Open it, and one, two more steps to enter the fight.\n\nI had fought them many times over. I knew not only what weapons fired first, but which ones would miss, which ones would hit, and which ones wouldn't be fired at all.\n\nBut regardless of how many times I fought them, he still died. Myron never survived in any scenario.\n\nI had blasted them with wind, tried shooting them with my pistol, and even rushed them to direct the bullets at me. Nothing I tried worked. The end result was always the same. There's something I'm not doing. Something I'm missing. I'm not looking at the big picture.\n\nI can't find the answer.\n\nBut there has to be. He has to survive. There must be a scenario in which Myron doesn't get hit. There's got to be some way to do it. There just has to be.\n\nMyron falls, just like every other time. A bullet having shredded through his chest.\n\nI scream. Even though I had seen it before, his death still traumatizes me. Instantly I push my hands out. I feel the familiar sensation of everything around me stopping. Frustrated and desperate, I again pull my hands in. The world goes black. My hands move all the way in, and I release. The world fades back in.\n\nThe men burst through the door. A blast of wind and 5 shots end them just as soon as before. One, two, three steps to the door. Open it, and one, two steps to enter the fight.\n\nI will save you, Myron. No matter how many rewinds it may take.\n__________\n\nYeah, it's really not that great, I know, but I had fun writing it. The first thing that came to my mind was time travel. Let me know if there's anything I can improve on. Thanks for reading. ^ _ ^" ]	5
	[Wp] write a poem about where you grew up, and your hobbies.	[ "Come take a trip with me, \n To the triangle of despair, \n where I'm sure that you'll agree, \n That it sucks beyond compare. \n\nIt's where the old go to die, \n Just to the West of old Novi, \n North of Deuce and East of MJR, \n For indeed death is never very far. \n\nWe are the most creative of our kind, \n Raised on hope and tough bovine, \n And the schools are named without any kind of trying, \n I wish otherwise but then I would be lying.\n\nYou're a Cougar, you're a Lion, you're a Panther on the spree, \n But cheer for any one is to fall in love with misery, \n You're a madman, you're a danger, you're a Methamphetamite, \n You're a cock-sure fucking loser who'll always lose the fight.\n\nWe've witches and bitches, and snobby fucking riches, \n the kind you know to hate and hate to love. \n We've got the cursed corner, one room theater, no foreigner, \n For we are as plain as those of Abraham. \n\nWe try and we drink, and we drink and we cry, \n As we wait for the angels and our moment to die, \n A sinner I'd be and goddamn lying, \n If I said I didn't want to leave fucking South Lyon! \n\n\n\n\n\n", "Raised in a swamp in a bayou outside of New Orleans\n\nWhere life was only public school and rice and beans\n\nMom was vicious and Dad was meaner\n\nEspecially when the leanest of times got leaner\n\nStow my rage, deep inside I shoved it away\n\nDreaming of the day that I would runaway\n\nAt this point only one light shined\n\nIt helped strengthen my body and my mind\n\nFor the one thing above all others I adored\n\nAnd that was my escape, my skateboard\n\nNo parks around there in '83\nIt was only my board, the street, and me\n\nFor that plank I would do all that I could\n\nYes, sometimes that meant stealing your wood\n\nIt made me a new person, confidence I gained\n\nAnd, one day it gave me the resolve to hop a freight train\n\nI left that swamp and I never looked back\n\nEven when all I owned would fit on my back\n\nHomeless in SF, and squatted in NYC\nBut I all ways had a skateboard with me\n\nMaybe because I am now older, I often reminisce\n\nThe things I have accomplished, and the things I have missed\n\nI am all grown up, and even got an education\n\nI have a good job, wife, and all of life's frustrations\n\nI guess I no longer twist caps off 40's, but pull corks from wine\n\nAnd though it has been 42 years I've lived in these bones of mine\n\nStill to this day that little light will shine\n\nAnd you will still find this old man, on the street, pushing pine\n\n\nEdit: yes they are actually 7 ply hardrock maple, but couldn't rhyme with maple...fuck you xp\n", "Apartment was the NES \nAnd playing Zelda was the best \nSMB was up there, too, and they're what made me so obsessed \n \nAdd a \"Super,\" move away \nStill had Kart and Link to play \nEarthbound was the best of all, and helped to make the change okay \n \nNo more rentals, owner time \nGamecube brought me Smash and Prime \nSettled in, new school, new friends, and had a blast playing Sunshine \n \nHome foreclosed but I've moved on, \nMy wife and I, and Donkey Kong \nI had a Wii and a PC, plus Brawl and Twilight kept me strong \n \nI've got a house, a baby too \nAnd just between me and Wii U \nI cannot wait to introduce my child to the Nintendo crew" ]	3
	[WP] The Library of Alexandria was burned down for a very good reason	[ "Wizard here! This is one of the things you learn pretty early on, not just because of history but because of... well, I'll get to it.\n\nSo magic - that is to say, modern-ish magic, not the old sacrifice-a-ram thing but still with plenty of salt circles and pentagrams - actually dates back to the burning of the Library of Alexandria. Merlin (yes, that Merlin) was said to go into the burning building three times, and each time he retrieved scrolls of knowledge that went on to become some of the founding magical texts of the kind of magic I practice.\n\nSaying \"Merlin was no slouch\" is like saying \"Dracula knows a thing or two about vampirism.\" So people occasionally wonder, why couldn't the Original Wizard himself have just put out the fire instead of wandering in there bodily to pick up the remnants we're left with today.\n\nThe answer is that he's Merlin and he freaking knew better.\n\nThat leaves us with the other guys. See, the thing about the burning of Alexandria is it's fairly hard to pin down when it actually happened. Some credit it to an invasion by Caesar, others say that an army of Christians came to purge it of its heretical materials. Still others suggested that an army of Muslims came along to do the same thing for the same reason. As is pretty much the case with everything in the wizard world, the answer is \"all of the above.\" The library suffered through multiple fires until it finally succumbed once and for all except for the bits that Merlin saved.\n\nWell, somewhere along the line one of the people who actually worked at the library got a bright idea. See, it turns out that when your life revolves around what is basically the ancient greek equivalent of the Internet of Black Magic, most of your problems can be solved with a spell. (Let's ignore, for the moment, the fact that most of them were likely caused by one in the first place)\n\nSo the wizards of the library used some of their knowledge that mankind was not meant to know and infused all of the library's information into themselves, so that even if the library should burn down a few more times, the knowledge would be safe.\n\nModern magic comes with certain rules. Not rules that are enforced by magic itself, that's more of a force, but rather rules that your fellow wizards will end your life over if you break, and they're kinda a big deal. Rules like \"Don't use magic to kill people\" (the people who would punish you for such a deed will use swords), \"Don't fuck with time because paradoxes could end our universe\", and of course \"Don't open the gates and let monsters from Outside invade our world and shred our sanity/reality, no matter how good an idea it seems at the time.\"\n\nBack then, they didn't have those rules. Heck, as long as you and your target were different religions/races/genders, most of the time you got commended for using magic to take them out. So while what's in the library was pretty standard fare at the time, nowadays it's some pretty nasty stuff.\n\nSo, back to the librarian-wizards of Alexandria. They made a spell so they'd have the knowledge, great. One problem: As short-lived as the library seemed to be, people have a tendency to die even faster. Naturally, the answer to this is to make your little knowledge transfer inheritable, like all good curses are.\n\n(Yes, it's a curse. You do not want the true names of the Lords of The Seven Seals burning ever-bright in your mind for any length of time, much less your entire life. And that's just one of the many fun bits of information in the library)\n\nOne other problem: Alexandrians (as they came to be known) are dangerous as hell. Because pretty much everything in the library was terrible, they're well-known for being black mages of the highest caliber and lowest morals. I mean, sure, some good stuff was in there, it was a big library after all, but that's like trying to recommend hugging a cactus because there's the occasional flower. Anyway, they're powerful, they're evil, and after the burning of their home they separated and operate in secret. In short they're exactly the sort of thing that adventuresome (and ostensibly more moral) wizards love to root out and destroy.\n\nSo part two of the curse: If you kill an Alexandrian, you become one. The curse goes from them to you.\n\nThe original Alexandrians must have been really, really dedicated to the idea of the knowledge living on, because this pretty much painted a target on all their backs saying \"Want forbidden and awesome powers? Stab here!\"\n\nBut it worked, because they're still around. Last year around Devil's Night I, shall we say, 'interrupted' their attempt to use the Washington, D.C. beltway as a summoning circle for an ancient nameless god of rage.\n\nYeah, that's the kind of thing they can get up to. And doing that only required two of them.\n\nOh, and also, one of my best friends is one of them. He's named Alex. His parents were not exactly creative. Stand-up wizard of the modern type, eschews the temptation to call down the fiery wrath of old but still knows how to defend himself if he needs to. Or so I think, I've been fortunate enough to never have to see him throw down. Closest that came to happening was last year during the aforementioned pre-Halloween debacle when a hospital was under attack by a rage vampire and....\n\nWell that's a long story. The point is, Alex is one of the good guys. But he's also one of the very, very rare exceptions.\n\nIn conclusion: Caesar, the various invading religions, Merlin - we don't know if they knew exactly what was burning (though Merlin probably had a pretty good idea), but we knew it burned for a good reason.\n", "Allison: Dad, why did the Library of Alexandria burn down?\nDad: Well sweety, the library burnt to the ground for a very good reason. It was filled with piles of paper.\n\nNow be a good girl and mix daddy a nice drink from \"daddy's medicine cabinet.\" I need something to take the edge off my fleeting life in this world filled with ignorance.\n\nAlso, the library probably contained scrolls documenting, uhh or \"scrolling\" he he [Dad has started his medicine], an an ancient alien presence on Earth, but that is a story for another time. Daddy's controversial work in that area is why daddy doesn't have a job and why Allison can't have piano lessons." ]	2
	[WP] Porn becomes a very popular sport...	[ "\"KICK-OFF!\"\n\n\"Kommt schon, Jungs! Dies ist das letzte Spiel, und wir dürfen nicht zu verlieren.\"\n\nAs the leader yells, they took off their pants and started rubbing.\n\n\"Esses gajos alemães são sérios sobre a tecnologia e, portanto, não tão excitado como nós!\"\n\n\"Shhhh! Wir haben to stop talking in Deutsch. Sie can understand us...urgh...Ich bin coming!\"\n\n\"Yeah! Wir sind 3 feet ahead. Now Toni, aim at the center of the ball!\"\n\n\"I got it!\"\n\n\"Oh, no. Essas Germans are doo easy to come. Devemos have make prostitution illegal in nosso country!\"\n\n\"Shut up and rub it haaaarder!!!\"\n\n\"Ich came!\"\n\n\"Ich came zu!\"\n\n\"Gut. Now Manuel, Jérôme and Mats, you three come together and make a fatal shoot für them. Ha ha!\"\n\n\"Shiiiiet, a bola is already on the line! Come and rub me altogether! Ready? One! Two! One! Two! Fred, blow me, blow me!\"\n\n\"Ein Land, Eine Mannschaft, Ein Traum!\"\n\n\"Preparem-Se! O Hexa Esta Chegando!\"\n\n\"Jaaaaaaa!!!!!!\"\n\n\"Fuck! We'll never forget!\"", "I saw it happen. I heard his agony... He was done... This can't be real.\n\nI've dreamed of the big leagues ever since I found my brother's shoe box. I remember the feeling that every kid gets when he gets introduced to the game. That initial confused excitement. I knew I wanted to play, but I didn't even know the rules. I had no friends my age to practice with and I was too young for the local gyms. I spent the first six years practicing on my own, bumbling through workouts and trying to critique my own form. No coaches took a second look at me even when I did come of age to compete. I pleaded \"I'm a grower!\", but they didn't understand. I fell to my knees and begged one coach to train me. I couldn't move my jaw for a week after that, but I made the team. Sure, I wouldn't be competing in the threesome league or even the doubles division, but everyone starts somewhere. My first six years of training had actually molded me for the position, and cuckolding was better than male's solo. A couple lucky breaks here and there and I ended up making the Horny Wive's practice squad and then part of their starting rotation.\n\nThis was the luckiest break yet. I should feel bad for him. He was once a kid like me, dreaming of making it big. He made it too big, it turns out, and Abella had come down hard and confident, but his sweaty grip had failed him and he'd let her slip just an inch to the right. His devastating yell had silenced the entire stadium. This was our season, a must win, and our starting powerthruster's career had just ended.\n\nI held back the smile I wanted to let explode from my face as stood up from my chair in the corner. I could feel the eyes of the fans on me. The lights were were as bright as the sun, but my eyes were on her. This was my moment. Kurt Cornerwhack was finally getting a shot... to give her a shot.", "“Let’s watch the instant replay on this. After a nearly perfect routine with some very inspired moaning from Sonya Getimov and, of course, the monster penis of her partner Vladimir Stickdabich, the Russian team is in trouble having flubbed the money shot. Here we see Getimov furiously jerking Stickdabich’s massive member. She must not have caught his signal, and you can see here how the actual initial ejaculation wasn’t timed right with her stroke. Unfortunately for the Russians, that resulted in the first spurt of cum landing on Getimov’s chin rather than directly in the mouth which surely would have clinched the victory for them after an otherwise incredible performance.”\n\n“That’s right Steve. Overall an inspired performance, but if the money shot isn’t perfect, well, that leaves the door open for the US couple. Here they come now that the clean-up crew is done. Candy Likker is looking good this afternoon in a black teddy, and it looks like they will be going with the Pizzaman routine, as Rod Stone is dressed up in the uniform of their team sponsor, Dominos Pizza.”\n\n“Yes Laura, it’s good to see they are going with one of the old standbys. Trying to get too creative with the setup can really detract from the overall score. Oh, look, the judges have posted the Russians' score. A disappointing 8.9 for Sonya Getimov and Vladimir Stickabich.”\n\n“Look at his face Steve. Vladimir knows his timing was off and it has left the door open for the US team. 8.9 is way below that couple’s potential. ”\n\n“The Americans are in a good position now if they can just make a solid performance here. Rod Stone only has an eight inch cock, but he’s got the legendary staying power that makes up for it. Candy and Rod have only been working together for a few months now since she’s barely legal, but in their prior competitions they’ve made a very good showing, relying on Rod’s stone hard cock and Candy’s creativity and flexibility. This is a couple to watch.”\n\n“They’re just having a final word with their coach, the legendary Lacy Heart. She still looks good. Who can forget her showing in Athens eight years ago? Looks like they are ready to begin as Lacy grabs their asses and sends them off with some last encouragement.”\n\n“It looks like Candy is going to start off with some warmup before the pizzaman Rod comes in. She can really contort her body to show off her attributes.”\n\n“You said it Steve. She really is a crowd-pleaser. Oh look, a quick peek at her bare ass under the teddy. Just tease for now. Here comes Rod.”\n\n“Things are about to heat up here as the barely legal Candy answers the door. Look Laura, Rod already has a visible hard-on even before they’ve touched each other. The reliability of his cock really makes them a hard team to beat.”\n\n“Ok, they are going with the ‘no money for the pizza line’. Yes, there it is, she reluctantly exposes one of her tits in hope that will be sufficient for the pizza, but it obviously isn’t. And, now we are moving into the next phase as she drops to her knees. Oh look, she is using the rare move of pulling the zipper of his pants down with her teeth. That’s a bold move at this point.”\n\n“Still she carried it off, and there she goes taking Rod’s entire cock into her mouth on the first stroke.”\n\n“That’s a move that’s obviously available when you are dealing with smaller cocks like Rod’s. Still, an excellent move. Let’s see how they do with the clothing removal now…”\n\nedit: couple of grammar things that only show up after hitting post." ]	3
	[WP] Every U.S. prisoner serving a life sentence is armed and dropped in Syria to combat ISIS without oversight.	[ "Professor Block, the CIA's top middle east analyst stood up. \"I guess we should start with some background.\" \n\nA video began to play on the screen at the end of the conference table in the windowless briefing room. After the CIA logo displayed, Donald Trump appeared, addressing a massive throng of supporters at a raucous political rally.\n\n\"Our leaders are stupid! Our politicians are stupid! We could solve the problem with ISIS. We don't have to accept this. I have a plan that would crush ISIS in the middle east and we could do it tomorrow! And all these politicians, these morons, are telling me 'Oh but it'll cost a fortune!' 'Oh it'll cost good American lives!'. It won't. They think that because they're morons. Because they don't know how to do a deal. If you elect me I will end the ISIS threat and I will do it in a way that doesn't just cost nothing, I will do it in a way that saves America billions!\" Massive cheers erupted from the supporters, and continued for almost a minute, until the video ended.\n\nThe President-Elect put his phone down and shifted in his seat. \"We all remember that. Can we move this along professor?\"\n\n\"Very well.\" The professor clicked to the next slide.\n\n\"After President Trump was elected, and the details of the plan emerged, many key Democratic and moderate lawmakers were outraged. President Obama, John Kerry, Colin Powell, all advised against it citing the -- erm -- humanitarian blowback that might be possible. But Trump refused to listen, calling Colin Powell 'a washed up has-been from the 80s with no class.' and suggesting that Kerry's wife was 'nowhere near a 10.' The legislation was passed three months later, and six months later, the operations began.\"\n\n\"We like to think the CIA prepared those boys as best we could. After all, criminals or not, they were still Americans. And they certainly weren't strangers to getting their hands dirty. We gave them training, separated them into squads, platoons and companies based on prison affiliation, and supplied them with materiel and supplies. The force was 160,000 strong on January 1st, 2017, when the drops began. For obvious reasons, we dropped the ammunition separately on January 3rd.\"\n\n\"The main force was concentrated in the desert just outside of Raqqa, the ISIS capital. With only a few days worth of supplies, it really was sink-or-swim. They'd need to take a major city in order to keep themselves alive. The battle of Raqqa was short. The American contingent prevailed, and we dealt a devastating blow to ISIS.\"\n\nThe president elect scanned around the room, confused. \"What are you telling me? You make this sound like it was a success.\"\n\n\"Everyone was impressed with the -- we like to call them 'the coalition' -- with the initial success of the American coalition. But then, the inevitable began to unfold. For the record we briefed President Trump about this eventuality many times, but he just kept telling us that it would be OK and that we 'didn't understand life'. I've been a cultural anthropologist and a CIA analyst for over 30 years. I think I understand something of life.\"\n\n\"Anyways, the inevitable did happen. The force -- 160,000 strong, almost all men -- almost all extremely violent -- split into factions and took over territory and began to establish their own bands or tribes or groups or whatever you want to call them. The Hispanics gangs coalesced to the south, those who had been affiliated with the African-American gangs made in-roads to the North, the white supremacists settled in an area to the west around the town of Al-Qa'im, and ISIS was pushed back to the East, back into Syria\"\n\n\"Raiding and counter-raiding became common, with no group to dominate, and with each establishing a resource base through illegal trade, drug trafficking and human slavery. A kind of violent, bloody, post-apocalyptic stalemate developed. Women -- now very scarce -- became the key commodity in the region, leading to unspeakable levels of oppression, rape, brutality and well, evil. Society as we know it has ceased to exist. What is happening right now in the Euphrates river valley might be the most lawless, violent and appalling situation in all of human history. Truly, the closest any man has ever seen to a hell on earth.\" \n\nThe President-Elect shook his head. \"That is a regrettable outcome. So what is the threat to the United States?\"\n\n\"Well, to be honest. There really isn't one. The groups expend so much energy fighting each other that they really don't have time or resources to strike the United States. Likewise the large regional powers -- Saudi Arabia, Iran, Egypt -- have had to adjust their foreign policies in order to contain the chaos that sits just beyond their borders. They actually need our help now more than ever. So with respect to the Middle East we can actually say that we safer today than we have been in decades.\"\n\nThe President-Elect considered this for a moment and smiled approvingly. \"Oh. So it's good news.\"", "it was a disaster. every b-52 was carrying over 250 man armed to teeth. some the trials were about to begin, some already got life sentence spending time between four walls, some were about to hanged-killed-burned whatever: all these peoplpe were given automatic rifles, bombs, kevlars, gogles, 2 month lasting rations and a heat sensoring blankets. \n\n20 b-25 that day changed the course of history in syria. think of every plane has a tribe of 250 strong armed men. a force to be reckon with even by big guns like isis. \n\nthe amount of bloodshed, rape and torture were rampant. they were fighting everyone anyone they can fight. at the end they drove off jihadists and government forces. they formed their own prison in the small cities they captured: saint quentin prison canton, in Aleppo pockets shawshank brigades, ahrar al fucking alcatraz. \n\nbut there were also hope. DENGO, the fiersome \"columbine hook shootings\" guy. ex-marine went rogue and killed not only 13 children, but also 2 police officers and 1 swat guy. the police put 27 bullet in the guy but he still maneged to live and after 9 months in intensive care he came off of from coma as a newborn guy. he was changed he said he lived the lives that he took over and over again. each of them was ending in the same way. himself coming alone and shotting killing himself. \n\nDENGO put his military experience and sharp mind into forming the most notorius militarist group the world has seen: SCF the second chance front \n\nSCF not only beat baathist assad regime forces in palmyra but with cunning militaristic strategies they managed to push back ISIS as well. in the antic city of Palmyra they established order and safety for all the people. \n\nwe still dont know what this story is gonna end like ? Who will win ? SCF, The blood craving inmates groups ? ISIS ? FSA ? or ASSAD ?\n\nbut now with new weapons and shit tons of people now this civil was is much more interesting. ", "\"Boy, is it just me or is this just like...\"\n\n\"Yes, Greg, it's just like Gears of War! You've been saying that since we got on this damn plane.\" Gordon snapped.\n\nGreg closed his mouth and went back to checking his gear, avoiding eye contact. Gordon looked the kid over. He was ressed in tan camo that didn't fit and was touting a rifle that probably weighed more than he did. Wire glasses, outbreak of acne, and not an ounce of muscle (or barely anything) on him, he looked more like he was heading to a game of paintball with friends than about to be dropped into fucking Syria.\n\n\"Hey.\" Gordon called across the plane to him.\n\nGreg looked up from pretending to fidget with his gun, \"Hmm?\"\n\n\"How old are you?\"\n\n\"19.\"\n\n\"How the hell did you end up here?\"\n\n\"Well some government agents came by and said they were looking for 'volunteers'. Next thing I know I'm being shipped to a military base...\"\n\n\"Not that, stupid, that's how we all ended up here! I mean what did you do before to get thrown in prison?\"\n\n\"Shot up a school.\"\n\n\".....\"\n\nA braces-filled grin crossed Greg's face. \"Just fuckin' with you, I didn't shoot up anything. Hacking, pirating movies, you know, stuff nerds like me do. I just happened to get caught, and happened to barely be old enough to get tried and convicted as an adult.\"\n\nGordon nodded, \"Luck's a bitch, huh?\"\n\n\"Yup. What about you?\"\n\n\"Me? Bar fight gone wrong, hurt a man worse than I meant. Care for more details?\"\n\nGreg shook his head and went back to his gun. Gordon looked up and down the plane. Everyone was dressed like soldiers, but he could still make out a few Red and blue bandanas, or an Aryan Brotherhood tattoo. A former cartel employee of a cartel sat next to him, napping. To the right of Greg sat a man in his thirties, Gordon vaguely remembered him say something about bank robbery.\n\nIt was a brilliant plan, he had to admit. Insane, but brilliant. As overcrowded as American prisons were, the country practically had an entire backup army. And apparently someone up top realized this. Apparently things were going to badly that nobody wanted good, American blood spilled in a useless desert, so they decided to arm and ship off the people that the nation no longer gave a shit about. In exchange to \"volunteering\" to fight, sentences would be commuted. Assuming you survived, of course.\n\nIt had been difficult keeping up with the news inside San Quentin, but Gordon knew enough about ISIS to know that things thousands of feet below weren't going to be fun.\n\nSuddenly Greg began to hum a tune. Gordon had never played the game, but he was damn sure that it was from Gears of War. He briefly wondered what would happen if he fired a bullet inside a C-130..." ]	3
	[WP] Do your best to describe a color	[ "What do you feel when you feel calm. Do you feel a gentle breeze blow over you or do you feel the soft grass in your hand. What do you Smell when you are calm. The morning dew on the grass or the gentle pine from the forest. What do you hear when you are calm. A wisp of wind or you stomping through snow. What do you taste when you are calm. Hot chocolate that is hot enough to warm you but not enough to burn you or the soft chewing of a apple. These are the colors blue and green. These colors are deep within your mind and they will never be found on a color wheel. For seeing these colors would take away the meaning and beauty that belongs only to you.", "\"Describe it to me please mommy.\"\n\n\"Hmmm. I don't really know how to, dear.\"\n\n\"Try mommy please! All the other kids in school know what colours are. Please mommy?\"\n\n\"Oh all right. You learnt colours in school today did you?\"\n\n\"Yep I did. Richard of York Gave Battle In Vain. That's how Miss Watson taught us to remember it mommy, Red, Yellow, Green, Blue, Indigo and Violet!\"\n\n\"Good girl! Now lets start with red shall we?\"\n\n\"Okay mommy!\" She sat down front of me, touching my face as I sat down in front of her.\n\n\"Red is hot. Its the taste of spices and chillies, when the heat fills your mouth and you can't breathe because your throat is on fire. Red comes in two different kinds, good red and dark red. Good red is the warm cosiness of a fireplace burning in the heath, the love of a mother caring for her child. Bad red... bad red is when the heat inside you explodes out and you say things meant to hurt and wound, to make other people cry. You drive them away when you're bad red even if they love you very very much.\n\nYellow is a different kind of warmth, the warmth of sunshine on your face, the happiness you feel when you skip in a circle with your friends playing ring around the roses. Yellow is laughter...\n\nGreen is mother nature. Green is the smell and feel of cut grass, velvety and sure on the fingers. Its the smell of fresh unpoluted air when you're bored in class, face a window and take a deep breath. Green can be small and yet big, small when you need it to be, lying on a field of grass and big when you need an oak tree behind your back.\n\nBlue is the feeling of the sea around your ankles, its cold and yet once you plunge right in, it feels warm and welcoming. Its soothing and drifting, letting you go where ever you want. It's wet and freshens you up, letting you be awake for the important things that happen.\n\nIndigo is imagination. No one really says at what point indigo starts when blue stops. Its the colour of imagination. Its the colour of deep deep thinking like when Ruffles lies down with his head on his paws and just stares at you for hours and hours. Indigo is thought and imagination, \n\nPurple is fun! Purple is when you play hide and seek with your friends or dress up as a princess! Purple is the nervous excited feeling you get when the it is almost about to catch you but you avoid him, just. \n\nAnd that's the colours of the rainbow, baby. All together, they're all of life's experiences. May your life be a rainbow...\"\n\nI lowered her slowly into her bed, careful not to wake her up as I gave her eyes a kiss.", "What do you feel when you feel Hatred? Do you feel the anger in your head or the feeling of killing them with your own bare hands. What do you smell when you smell fear? Is their actually a sent being transmitted or is it just your blood lust looking for the man. What do you hear when you are trying to find him? Do you hear ever little thing or do you hear the voices in you head telling you what to do. What do you taste when you eat at those times? Do you taste each flavor or do you imagine it as the flesh of your enemies. This is the color Red and black for they are intertwined. Whatever you chose their is ether a hellish red found within you or a empty void of black. You wont ever find these colors on the color wheel for they do not exist but only in the depths of your mind and whatever you thought.", "When we met, the first question was \"How long?\"\n\n\"All my life.\" \n\nThe world wasn't a mystery. I knew stop signs were 'red'. I knew that the sky was 'blue'. I just didn't know what those meant. And it never mattered. Until we met.\n\nBecause around him, everything felt more. Like the air was better, the sounds around me clearer, and every smell, every touch had depth I had never felt before.\n\nWith him the world was more alive than I had ever known.\n\nOne night, my body curled to his, I touched his face and slid my fingers over the lines I knew by heart, a series of textures and dips that I could sculpt with memory as reference. But my fingers skimmed passed the full lips I had kissed and the ears that listened to my troubles, and buried themselves into the thick strands that he had begun to complain were too long. I thought they were perfect, more so in that moment. \n\n\"What colour is your hair?\" The question escaped as soon as if appeared in my mind, both of us going still in the following moment.\n\nI felt the muscles against my body relax, and when he spoke, I could hear the soft smile in his voice. I one I knew he wore when his eyes crinkles at the sides, the one he wore just before he kissed me the first time. \"It's black.\" There was another thoughtful pause, my fingers still combing the strands.\n\n\"When we went camping, and I had you lay in the field with me to star gaze, and it was quiet except for the wind, and you told me how it felt to feel just so much nothing above your head? When its night, and just cold enough for a sweater, so your body can be warm, but the air on your cheeks is cool. That's black.\"\n\nA soft hum escaped my throat, letting his arms pull me close, a breeze from the open window brushing my back as he fell asleep, my fingers still in his hair.\n\n__________________\n\nI fell laughing in the park, fall breeze pushing leaves across the grass. I could hear them spinning through the trees and whispering in the wind. I deeper chuckle and a heavy form sat next to me. I could hear the kids keep running, my younger cousins watched by the rest of my family. \"Having fun?\"\n\n\"It's a family reunion. I didn't even think people did that stuff in real life.\" \n\n\"Well, my family does.\" I grinned and reached over, smiling as he picked up my hand, pulling my fingers to his lips for a kiss. \"What color is the sun today?\"\n\n\"Well, I'd say orange.\" I could hear the curve of his lips as he leaned back to be next to me.\n\n\"So... what is orange?\" I heard the brush of his hair on the grass as he shook his head, and I smiled at the sky above me, \"Don't roll your eyes at me.\"\n\n\"Mm, I hate when you know that.\" Squeezing my hand, he began twining our fingers together. \"Its... when you get too close to the campfire, and the dry heat brushes your face. Like the smell of dried leaves still on trees...\" I took a deep breath, letting the musty rustle of those same leaves rush through my senses.\n\n______________\n\nI had walked to the corner store, not realizing how cold it had gotten. the wind whipped at my face and dug through the fabric of my coat. The blizzard had come and gone two nights ago, and now that all the sidewalks had been cleared, I needed to get out of the house. \n\nWhile I was gone, he had gotten home, and accosted me as soon as I was through the door.\n\n\"I can't believe you went out in this.\" His voice should have been scolding, but I knew the current underneath- worry. He started helping me out of my jacket, hanging it and my scarf in the hall closet. \"Are you alright?\"\n\nMy teeth chattered slightly, and he moved to grab a blanket from the couch to wrap around me.\n\n\"What does white look like?\"\n\nA grunt answered me, as if he couldn't decide to answer or try to keep being cross with me. \n\n\"It's bright and flashy, if the sun is out. It's probably how your fingers feel right now.\" He rubbed the icy digits between his palms, leaning over to kiss my forehead softly. \"Soft and hard, cold and warm all at once, like putting a fur coat in the freezer before you run your hands throught the fur.\"\n\nI raised an eyebrow at him, and he laughed.\n\n\"Trust me on this one, okay?\"\n\n_____\n\nEveryone said our wedding was beautiful, I smiled and nodded because I didn't care. The food was great and I held his hand tightly and wouldn't let go even after the ceremony. I smiled every time he squeezed my fingers, and my chest felt tight and warm and my cheeks started to hurt because I smiled so much.\n\nHe held me and we danced our first dance, and if felt like my chest would burst.\n\nHe kissed me.\n\n\"Is this red?\"\n\nHe didn't answer, but kissed me again, and I could taste the smile on his lips.\n\n___________________\n\nThe breeze was crisp, pulling orange fingers across my cheeks, listening to the quiet intonation of the priest.\n\nThe sun pushed warm yellows through the layers of my clothes, warming my skin, even if I didn't want it too. There were others there, people I didn't want to identify right now, their silence brown and suffocating behind me.\n\nThe cracks of rifles- three shots by seven men- sharp purple rapports I bore without flinching.\n\nA song was played as they lowered the casket, a soft pink tinged with blue, brushed at the edges with a shadow of black.\n\nI held tight to the flag at my chest, folded triangle a harsh white scrape at my fingertips, contrasting the soft brush of green pressed tightly in my palm. A rose for him. It felt too green.\n\nI told my mother to go, and I stood by the headstone until all but one of the cars had left, letting hip touch the stone, its edge a sharp copper where I let it dig in.\n\nMy chest tightened, and I could feel tears slip down my cheeks, trying to hold myself upright as I wanted to let my knees give out.\n\n\"Is this grey?\" I asked the sky, waiting for an answer that would never come, throat too tight to sob, body to weak to scream, \"Please... is it?\"\n\nIt must be.\n" ]	4
	[WP] Hush, hush, mommy's gonna eat you now.	[ "If I could, I would reach across this table and throttle him. I’d have stabbed him, if he hadn’t cut dinner up for me already.\n\nHe sits across from me, alternately munching on mouthfuls of salad and smiling at me in an adoring manner. “Come on, sweetheart.” he says. “Eat up.” \n\nHe takes a delicate sip of the white wine in his glass. This causes me to reflect on the food pairing choice he made for me. Red. Of course it would be red.\n\nI won’t look. Even in pieces, it’s easy to make out the original shape. While I listened earlier to the sounds of crackling in the oven, the thick smell of roasting meat wafting through the air, he had finally decided to enlighten me.\n\n“Did you know that every single type of animal that eats its young seems to have entirely different reasons for doing so? Some birds do it to make themselves stronger during a vulnerable time in their lives. Others, well if their eggs don’t hatch fast enough, they get ate. The quick growers win, and get to live so they can lay faster-hatching eggs themselves.”\n\nI try to listen to the rest more attentively, but I can’t help but notice just how numb my right foot had gone. The tight shackle around that ankle had rubbed the skin of my calf raw. It had been there for hours now, since he’d seated me in the dining room to start cooking, and I was worried if I peered beneath the tablecloth that I’d find a foot too far gone. \n\n“Other animals do it to increase the reproductive rate of the parent. Basically, like, eat one and you’ll suddenly be able to have triplets or something?” he shrugs. “Considering how little paternity leave I get from work, you understand why I’d want to try and get an entire brood all in one shot, don’t you?”\n\nMy fork clatters to the edge of the fine, white plate. His smile immediately flatlines. Because I recognize the emptiness of those black eyes, I immediately pick it back up again. Sourness rises in my throat as I note the uncontrollable tremble of my hand. I rest it against the table, hoping he won’t notice. \n\nHe slams his fist down on the table, and a terrified squeak escapes my lips. I close my eyes tight, willing myself not to cry. He hates tears. \n\n“Look at me, or I’ll take your eyelids next.” he says in a monotone.\n\nI do it.\n\n“Eat.” he says. “The faster you do this, the sooner we’ll be ready to make more.”\n\nAfter he is seemingly satisfied with my demeanor, I decide to look at you while I eat. If I watched him instead, with hate seething through every pore in my being, he might decide to kill me off and trap some other poor girl instead. For some reason, I become fixated on one of the things he said earlier: that the parent would eat the young in order to get stronger.\n\n“Help me.” I ask you silently. “Help me get out of here. Help me to avenge you.”\n", "The time was now, I had no choice, they were starving, but so were we. They are already becoming too skinny and the meat is starting to recede. Bones protruding from them, they couldn't speak they were so weak.\n\nThe oven was started, the fire nice and hot. The warmth in the cabin always felt great once the fire was lit. Just the children were fast asleep, perhaps they were already dead, but as I felt their nose and chest, their breath was calm and their heart was soft, still alive, but still in the wonderful sleep world. \n\nMommy's going to give you to the gods, we haven't anything to eat, your father is off to find something, probably another hare, mommy can't stand the taste of that any longer, and your mommy will be dead soon if she doesn't eat. I'm sorry my dearies, i'm sorry my loves, the time has come. \n\nGrasping the pillows besides their beds she covers each of their heads, smothering them tight, they were to weak to fight. \n\nPraying to god, they were in pain and need not suffer no longer. \n\nThe pot of hot stew is ready, filled with chives, mushrooms, carrots, and celery, with salt and pepper the additional ingredient. \n\nCleaver laying on the table, grabbing it and without hesitation hacks up her young beautiful children. Blood filling each bed, bones being tossed to the side, flesh being piled near, meat and guts being tossed into the pot. \n\nHe will be happy, his dinner will be ready when he gets home, it's been months since we had a full meal. No more hare my dear, tonight we have a glorious dinner.\n\nThe skin will be baked to a crisp, he will enjoy it with whatever bread we have left. \n\nThe screams were loud, the crying was ignored. One of them was still alive, screaming and crying, leg, arm, completely gone, the smothering didn't work. Mind blank emotion, all that could come out, \"Hush hush, Mommy's gunna eat you now.\" \n\nOne last slice with the cleaver to the neck of her baby, ceasing the sound of the cries and pleas.\n\nJust as the skin began to crisp, the door to the cabin opened, my love, he is here, he will be so proud.\n\nAs he came around the corner, his scream was unlike a human, he began to shake violently and pull at his hair, he began to faint, his body falling backwards, his eyes becoming white, his head hit a table right behind him, his neck bent in a position impossible for a person. \n\nHis body was motionless, he was dead. ", "“Please stop, it hurts!” pleaded Tanya, tears beginning to stream down her face. “I’m sorry. Please let me go.”\n\n“What did I specifically tell you not to do?” Tanya’s mother asked her sternly, a fistful of her daughter’s pony tail in her wrinkled hand.\n\n“You… you told me… not to play… with the boys… in the park,” replied Tanya in between sobs.\n\n“And what did you do?”\n\n“I played… football with them… but they said… they would take away Teddy if I didn’t!” she explained.\n\n“Then you should have let them! It’s always Teddy this, Teddy that, for chrissake, you’re already twelve and still carrying that smelly toy around!”\n\n“But… but… he means… so much to me!” Tanya burst into tears. It wasn’t her fault she was attached to her childhood toy. After all, that’s what she grew up with. And it was the only thing left from her late father who had passed away during a fire in their old house.\n\n“That’s still no reason to play with the boys!” said her mother. “How many times do I have to repeat myself? This isn’t the first time you’ve disobeyed my direct orders.”\n\n“I know… I’m truly sorry… I promise never to do it again,” said Tanya, whose knees and neck were sore from the awkward position she was being held in.\n\nHer mother sighed. Ever since her husband died, life had taken a turn for the worse. Her days and nights were barely discernible. They bled into one another. She spent more time in bed than in the rest of the house. It felt like she only rose from bed just to yell at her children. No wonder they despised her.\n\nTanya’s two siblings disappeared last year; which left her, the youngest one, to take care of her mother. Tanya believed because of that, her mother was extremely paranoid of people outside the house. So Tanya spent a lot of time by her side, making sure that she was alright.\n\nHowever, she still got to go to school on weekdays – her mother didn’t want to chance it with the authorities showing up at her doorstep lest they took her or Tanya away. Tanya could lead a normal life, all she had to do was come back home each day before the sky got dark so she could cook dinner for her mother. It wasn’t too difficult, but Tanya made a mistake.\n\nToday, when she was walking home after school, she was teased by some cute boys by the park. And while they didn’t force her to play football with them (that was a lie she had told her mother), she wanted to get to know the cute boy with the brown hair a little better. Having a little too much fun getting to know him, she had lost track of time and rushed home in a sweat. She didn’t have time to clean her shoes before she stepped in the house and was greeted by her mother. Which was how she ended up kneeling on the ground at the mercy of her mother’s grasp.\n\nTanya felt her mother’s hands let go of her pony tail. She turned around to see her mother walking away from the front door into the kitchen.\n\n“Mommy?” she called out.\n\nNo response.\n\nTanya put her school bag down, stood up and brushed her sore knees. She wiped the tears from her face when she heard her mother call her from the kitchen.\n\n“Tanya, do you remember what your brother and sister said to me before they went away?”\n\n“No. I don’t remember you saying anything…” responded a puzzled Tanya as she walked towards her mother. “What did they-”\n\nThe girl was cut off mid-sentence as she turned the corner into the entrance kitchen. Tanya felt a sharp pain in her chest as she saw her mother standing right in front of her – with a grin on her face and her hands gripping onto what appeared to be a knife that was now half-buried in her body.\n\n“Mommy?” Tanya’s vision begin to blur as she felt the pain in her chest growing in intensity. “Mommy!” she started yelling. “What are you doing?!”\n\nTanya couldn’t believe what was happening.\n\n“Your brother and sister said the same thing as you, except they put up much more of a fight!” laughed her mother maniacally as she retracted the blade and plunged it into Tanya’s chest again. “You’re such a pathetic little girl!”\n\nTanya screamed, flailed her arms and tried to push her mother away. It was no use, she had the strength of a wet noodle. She felt her consciousness and life fading away as the blood drained out of her body into the puddle at her feet.\n\n“Mommy…” she whimpered. The knife dug deeper into her body. “Mommy…”\n\nTanya felt the knife leaving her body again, this time when it re-entered her, it was in her throat. The little girl started bleeding from her neck.\n\n“It’s okay, all is forgiven,” she heard whispered in her ear as her mother pulled her close.\n\n“Mommy…” the girl managed to mutter out, her body now limp in her mother’s arms.\n\n“Hush, hush, mommy’s gonna eat you now.”" ]	3
	[WP] Teleportation renders all other modes of transportation obsolete and makes travel time nonexistent—there are no 'journeys,' only 'destinations'. One morning, as you're getting ready for an average day, your teleporter breaks.	[ "I don't know if I've ever seen roads. Hell, I rarely go outside, ever! I've heard some stories about how crime filled it used to be, how a young girl like myself had to be afraid to walk down the street by herself, particularly at night. Or in order to cross that street, you were often risking your life. People got lost, or were kidnapped. I mean, I'm an adult now, I couldn't be kidnapped. I've been outside on vacation destinations, like the beach and national parks and such, but not 'just because'. On a side note, did you know that 'just because' used to be a thing? Especially the outside, people went to the outside 'just because'. Didn't they know the sun was bad for them and it might be too cold or too hot and they couldn't do anything about it, or that their kids might be napped whatever that means? People from the past must have been really dumb. \n\nBut what do you know, I have to be one of them today because my friggen teleporter BROKE. Ugh, so irritating. Things aren't supposed to break. I don't think I've ever seen something break. This is ridiculous! And no one will come here to help fix it in case they can't fix it and then they'll be stuck here. What's the point of a repairman? \n\nUGHHHHH. I guess I have to get to work though, the clothing in the mall won't sell itself. Truth be told, I'm like, really scared. This must be what my mother felt like when I moved out six months ago. 'You're only 19, and you barely made it through high school! A balloon has more going for it than you do!' Shut up, mom! Who needs you anyway? I'll show her, I'll survive this outside world! I'm gonna survive it just like Grandma...oh yeah, that'll really piss her off. \n\nOk, here goes nothing. Open the door, and out onto the street I go. \n\nIt's pretty empty out here. The streets are actually really dirty. That's weird, everything is just pristine and gorgeous inside, everywhere. Why does no one clean the outside too? \n\nGosh my purse is heavy. I'm glad I have a small one...I'm not used to carrying anything for more than a moment or two. I never realized how heavy things really are. \n\nOh goodness, I tripped on a square of the ground that was jutting up from the rest. This ground is hard! My knee really hurts. Is that blood on it? Blood?! Oh no! Am I going to die now?! Ugh, this stings! People really used to do this every day?! They really WERE stupid! And how did they not die all the time?\n\nHow do I get to the mall? I've never had to take myself the long way so I don't know where it is and I don't know how to get there or even if there's a way in from the outside and all these buildings look really gross from the outside, ew it's like so dirty and I feel like I need an hour long bath just being out here. I am totally freaking out right now! \n\nI wonder if this man will know how to get there. I mean, he may be sitting on a cardboard box and look as dirty as the wall he's leaning against, but he may kno....ew, he just smiled at me and he's missing a few teeth, nevermind. Walk faster walk faster walk faster EW PLEASE STOP REACHING FOR ME EW GO AWAY! Thank goodness smacking him in the face with this bag got him to leave me alone. Maybe my mother was right....\n\nNo you cannot think that EVER!\n\nWhat was that noise? Like a screech of an angry ca-- oh, it is a cat! Cats live on the outside too? Come here, kitty. Come to Tiffany so she can scratch behind your ears and save you from scary dirty men on cardboard boxes. OUCH you little BITCH! Don't scratch me! Go away, shoo, I'm not going to rescue you now! Is my hand bleeding too? I'm definitely dying now, UGH!\n\nEverything is looking the same now, everything is run down and ugly and HUGE and there are not many things living out here and I never thought about it but why WOULD there be? What do I do What do I do What do I do?! Oh no! \n\nThat building over there is a little different, shorter and kind of like a long U shape. What's that sign say? Could it be? Does it say MALL? Oh I'm going to kiss that door! TAKE THAT MOM! I can take care of myself even on the outside.\n\nNow how am I going to explain this to my boss?\n", "'Look mate, I hate to tell you this.. But.. You're gonna have to go... Outside.'\n\nI felt a lump rise in my throat. Jimmy's deadpan expression bore into my soul, even through the shitty little screen of my brother's old mobile phone. I hadn't gone outside for as long as I could remember.. No one I knew had.\n\n'Jimmy.. I don't know if I can do this.' I felt my heart pound against my chest. 'I don't even know what's out there..'\n\n'Alright, alright. But you know what the company's manner of dealing with absentees is. You don't want that.'\n\nHe was right. Jimmy was always right. If I ever needed a level-headed opinion on anything I'd give him a buzz and he'd ram senze down my throat like mum used to force feed me broccoli. Work was hard to come by these days, and seen as a privilege rather than a right. We had few rights left thesedays.\n\n'I can probably get in contact with my mate who has a one way teleporter and is qualified in fixing all models. He's in high demand, though.. It could be a while.' Jimmy's concerned face was still peering at me, it was unnerving.\n\n'Alright Jimmy.. I'll do it.' I put on my best brave face, doubting how efficient it was with the colour drained from it. 'I think Grandad's old.. Auto-mobile? Is still in the garage.'\n\n'Atta boy! I'll expect to see you at work in an hour then. The nearest teleporter to you shouldn't be far out. Take care.' The screen winked out.\n\nI was left alone now, I could feel the fear of the outside, of the unknown bearing down upon me. With shaking knees I took the few steps to the elevator that would take me to Grandad's garage. We weren't supposed to have one, but no one ever checked these things.. No one went outside to.\n\nThe tiny elevator felt like it was labouring to drag me to the surface, that coupled with the flickering lights did nothing tk settle my nerves. Finally, after quite enough time, I heard the ding that signalled my arrival. \n\nThe doors rattled open to reveal the dusty old garage. A wide room with fluorescent lights dangling from the ceiling and tool-cluttered benches lining the walls. On one end there were heavy metal shutters, the doors to the outside. There were many windows in the garage, though all had been covered by metal plates. In the centre rested the auto-mobile, sleeping peacefully beneath a tarpaulin. I took a shaky step towards it..\n\n- This is all I feel like doing for now.. I don't really know what I intended, but I could certainly expand on this later if you so wish. Wrote it on my phone, apologies for any errors/formatting issues.", "The thing about travel is it makes everything else so damn complicated. There was a time (you may not believe me) when entire cities were built around roads--long, flat stretches of concrete for the now extinct car. If you think that's absurd, listen to this: in the past, if you wanted the opportunity to enjoy a natural wonder, you actually had to live by it! Can you imagine? Whole cities built in the places least suitable for residences. The environmental impact alone.\n\nIt wasn't always like it is now. You couldn't always go from your apartment to the ocean in one simple step. You couldn't always have anything you wanted show up instantly in at your house. People used to have to work for this--it was a big deal! Ever heard of a traffic jam? Thank your lucky stars. We used to have hell on earth, every day from seven to nine and again from four to six.\n\nWhich is a long way of saying I need this fixed. I was told these machines don't break. I was told they were entirely dependable. I was told these things because I knew what a risk I was taking installing one in the first place. I knew it was a risk to build a life on something that so completely cut me off from the way things used to be done. It's all well and good when it works, but now?\n\nI'm trapped in a teleporters residence, middle of nowhere and underground. Can't get any food, that all came in the 'porter. No door--that's what the 'porter was for. There's an emergency hatch of sorts, a twenty story climb up a steel ladder. You think I'm going to do that? At my age?\n\nNo. That won't work. You send someone down here today. Not next week, not tomorrow, today. Because I gave up that other life, with your assistance. I paid you to take away the complications, with your assurance. So you get down here soon, or you'll be dealing with one tough old bastard. I've known a level of rage you couldn't dream of.", "My bed vibrates, gently waking me up from sleep at the optimal time. I glance at the window, where my clock dimly shows the time of 6:22. I weighed the thought of sleeping in longer, but I knew that I’d only be more tired. The SmartAlarm woke me up now for a reason.\n\nStretching, I waved my hand at the windows, and the dark mist blocking the sunlight slowly dissipated. The clock glowed a bright red across the blue sky, and beside it, a list of notifications and news began scrolling.\n\nI blinked, eyes still bleary from sleep. The blurred letters only got worse as I squinted at them. “Notifications, please,” I said aloud to my empty room.\n\n“Good morning, Zeek,” a female voice, Vega, said. I gave a begrudging greeting back as I slid out of bed. I’m not a fan of the new personable update on my computer. “Today,” she continued, after waiting for my hello, “Dane would like to know if you would like to get lunch. Around noon, he says.”\n\nI wander over to the bathroom and rinse my face off. “Uh, where?” I ask, muffled through the towel.\n\n“There are a few places you two seem to have enjoyed in the past. Café One-12, Teriyaki House, Greens and Grass-“\n\n“I hated Greens and Grass. Why would I go out to eat raw food?”\n\n“Noted. I thought you liked it.” She paused while updating her list. “Maybe a smoothie place?”\n\n“Just tell him he can choose.”\n\n“Okay. There are a few emails from Di, but-“\n\n“Ignore them, I’ll see her later.”\n\nVega continued telling me how my day was going to go, and then transitioned into news as I put in my screened contacts. I blinked hard, feeling them move into place, and then the world around me lit up. I don’t like putting things in my eyes, but the surgery creeps me out.\n\n“Your eggs are ready.”\n\n“Thanks, Vega.”\n\nI wander into the kitchen, where my fried eggs sit happily on the plate. My toast, however, is nowhere to be seen. A clinking noise behind me draws my attention, and I notice the bread, still stuck in the machine. “Hey Vega?” I say, pulling it out. “Remind me to get this fixed.”\n\n“Sure thing.” She stops, but her voice doesn’t click off, so I know she’s still there.\n\n“Something wrong?” I ask, casting the news stories I was most interested in on the table with my contacts. I skim them as they scroll by.\n\n“There was a small power surge just now. Something may have shorted out. I’m running a diagnostic now.”\n\nI glance around the room, and the news stops scrolling as I look away. “I don’t see anything wrong.”\n\n“I’m sure everything is- ah.”\n\nI stop eating. “What’s wrong? That didn’t sound good.”\n\n“It seems that your teleporter never turned off last night. It’s on the fritz. I’m going to turn it off and notify a repairman.”\n\n“Whoa, what?” I glance at the clock in the corner of my eye. 7:32. “Vega, I have to go in a few minutes. You can’t turn it off.”\n\n“I’m sorry, Zeek, but the teleporter is too dangerous. I’ve sent you the directions to the nearest public transporter. It’s only a mile away, an easy walk. I’ve also emailed your boss that you may be a few minutes late.”\n\nI grimace. The public transporters weren’t known for being extremely sanitary. “When will the repairman be out?” I could stand to be a couple of hours late.\n\n“Unfortunately there isn’t one available until 4:00.”\n\nI frown and glance at the directions. Twenty minute walk. I need to leave now to make it. “Thanks, Vega,” I sigh. My briefcase sits beside the door where she left it, along with a toothpaste capsule. I pop it in my mouth before I realize that I’ll have to actually lock the door behind me. “Vega? Where are my keys?”\n\nA blinking light in the corner of my eye leads me to my desk, under a box of papers. I push them to the side to find a box I never bothered to unpack. “Are you kidding me? Can’t you just lock it behind me?”\n\n“No. We can unlock with your permission, but robot safety laws don’t allow us to lock doors.”\n\nI grumble as I reach into the box, pulling out items wrapped in newspaper until I find the key set, a simple fingerprint scanner. Grabbing my briefcase, I put in my earpiece and head out the door, locking it with a quick press of my thumb.\n" ]	4
	[WP]The year is 3015. You've found a way to travel to the past, and have decided to go back to the year 2015 and see what life was like back then. You take a box with you, it contains the tools that you think you may need for survival in this ancient era, as well as one single present for humanity.	[ "I quickly skimmed the posts from /r/EDC using the waybackmachine on the extranet. After some alloy fabricating I was ready. 2 Glocks, 1 snub nosed revolver and a Nugget (A Mosin Nagant rifle, as I learned later). It seemed strange to me, how much firepower would someone need back then to just survive. I also packed some rare Pepe frog fabrications I won in a Danken Memen tournament two months ago.", "We had worked tirelessly for this day. And finally, after many a sleepless night spent toiling away in the humid depths of our laboratory, we had done it.\n\nThe Time-Breaker, we called it. An opaque black cube, embossed on all sides and riddled with special conduits, channels that pulsated with life and light all their own. In the dimly-lit corridors that snaked beneath the city, the colours that danced from our masterpiece painted the darkness brilliant shades we could scarcely begin to appreciate... And with the press of button, the darkness swallowed its brilliance, leaving us to finish our work without distraction.\n\nTo the untrained eye, it appeared to be an ornately designed box. \n\nTo us, it was so much more. It was an ensured future.\n\nI was chosen to partake in the journey before we had even begun development. The luck of the draw, as they call it. The night prior to my departure, I prayed to those above for a safe journey, to grant me solace in the fact that I would return, in what would seem an instant, to the family which I held so close. They begged me not to leave, to find another to carry out this most exalted of tasks.\n\n\"I cannot disappoint Him, my children. I cannot disobey Him, my husband. You know this as well as I.\" Despite their reservations, their hesitance, they understood. As the sun's light painted our ivory walls with the hues of dusk, I scrutinized the drudges scurrying in the maze of streets below with a queasy mixture of pity and disdain.\n\nAs the sun's light withdrew slowly from our domicile, I dwelt upon His words. His command, given to me atop the ivory spires at the heart of our city.\n\n\"We need their aid, Satish. You know this as well as the rest of our people. Our drudges can only do so much before they... Languish, and their population dwindles further still. Go back, Satish. Return to yesteryear and conscript the men and women of the past. Without their 'assistance,' our way of life will soon cease to exist. Do it for us all, Satish.\" And with that, the decision was made.\n\nI, one of the wisest, strongest-willed of our people, would set off as soon as possible. I would not disappoint Him. I would ensure our continued survival. \n\nI would return.\n\nAs the sun crested the jagged mountain range at my back, I knew this was for the best. For the future. Resigned to my fate, I prodded the 'on' button with a stiff digit. The Time-Breaker blinked to life, wheezing and droning and bathing me in a cascade of swimming colours. \n\nIn an instant, they were gone. Everything was gone, devoured by the all-encompassing void. All that remained was my mind, left floating in an expanse of emptiness.\n\nIn another instant, an alien world exploded into view, wrapped me in a bizarre and unfamiliar reality. \n\nGrey, square-faced prisms reached towards the heavens, only to be consumed by a blanket of haze. Before me stretched winding pathways of cracked, sun-baked stone, marked with lines of faded white and bold yellow. Round-legged beasts thundered all about, squealing as they skirted past me. \n\nAnd all the while, drudges went about their business.\n\nThey littered the landscape, clad in fabrics both unorthodox and bizarre. The fur topping their skulls was worn in a plethora of fashions. Some stood agape, transfixed on me and presumably shocked at my sudden appearance. Others blared hideously, lost in a wild panic. A scarce few hadn't noticed my arrival.\n\nNo matter. I was here to grant them a gift, and a gift I would grant them.\n\n\"Drudges! I come at the behest of Him, the all-mighty and gracious. Your services are required, and I come bearing a most precious gift.\" Looking down at the Time-Breaker, clutched firmly in my claws, I grinned wickedly. Turning it over, I revealed an array of bright red switches, promptly flipping them up. The Breaker whirred in approval, signifying the completion of my task. In a moment, our people would join me en masse. \n\nOne. Two. Three-four-five, and so forth at an increasing rate, familiar faces and figures popped into existence, clutching snares, prods and the like. Try as they might, the drudges' vicious flailing and shrill cries did naught to quell their captors. Soon, they would all be bound and ready for sedating.\n\n\"Your gift, O drudges, is simple: Servitude.\"\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n", "As I knelt before the machine, Juanito burst into my dark, dusty room from behind. Gasping for breath, my best friend said \"Jon, you can't go. You've studied this stuff for years, one wrong move back there and it could destroy the world as we know it.\"\n\nI replied to him without looking back, \"We are on the brink of nuclear war... If I don't stop this, we'll all be dead anyways.\"\n\nJuanito looked distressed, he had always been there for me before as I did my research. He was the descendant of a very dangerous man who, almost 1000 years ago, started a chain of events that would eventually lead to world war III.\n\nWhat started as a small gang to \"fight the man\" escalated over time into something much, much bigger. Whole towns would join their cause in fear of offending someone if they didn't.\n\nJuanito had inherited an old house from his father, which he later found out had an ancient bomb shelter within. It was filled with Journals and history books on what had happened nearly 1000 years ago.\n\nI kept fiddling with the settings within the gray machine, Juanito sat down and waited as I made the final calibrations.\n\n\"Why can't you take me with you?\" Juanito asked\n\n\"The machine can only carry one person at a time.\" I told him. \"Any more would risk over-working it. And we'd die before we could get back.\"\n\nI slammed the small hatch shut and stood up. I looked down at my holo-watch: I had calibrated the machine to send me back to November 1st 2016.\n\nJuanito turned pale as he realized my imminent departure. \"You won't be able to come back.\" he said, grimly.\n\n\"That doesn't matter\" I told him.\n\nI walked over to my shelf, where there was a small shoebox in which I had packed the things I'd need.\n\nI walked over to Juanito and said my goodbyes. Then I climbed into the machine and closed the door.\n\nI navigated my holo-watch to the launch button and tapped it. Then I laid my head back as the machine sent me through the wormhole.\n\nThe machine that had taken 12 years of my life to build.\n\nThe machine that would lead me to my inevitable death.\n\nThe machine that could have easily held two people.\n\n____________________________________________________________\n\nI awoke from what felt like the biggest nap of my life, with my head spinning. I knew the machine wouldn't deliver me easily, but this was worse than I expected.\n\nI could barely make out my surroundings, but I looked to be in the middle of a field. I was feeling sick, and after vomiting a few times I finally came to my senses enough to examine where I was a bit closer.\n\nOn the ground was a human sized circle of burned ground, as well as the shoebox I had brought. I scooped it up and settled it under my arm. Scanning from left to right I saw that I was, in fact, in a field and that there was nobody and no buildings around.\n\nLooking down at my Holo-watch I was surprised to see that it was broken. No. Not broken, out of battery. I flipped open the hatch that exposed a small solar pannel to the midday sun. It would take a few minutes but it should've been charged soon enough.\n\nIn the distance I thought I saw the tip of what looked to be a bell tower. So I started trudging towards it.\n\nAfter a good 10 minutes walk to my destination I parted the bushes to find several small buildings. A few children ran along the road, but seemed a bit weary at my appearance.\n\nI walked up to a building with a large, cheap looking sign reading \"Katie's Krispy Khicken Diner\"\n\nAs I opened the greasy doors everyone turned an eye at me. I was wearing a filthy duster coat, and I'm sure I didn't look too well myself at the time. Not to mention it was a small town, most of the people there probably recognized each other, so naturally they'd be surprised at a dirty stranger walking in randomly.\n\nI sat down at a booth, as I did a waitress named Sarah walked up. \"What'll it be darlin'?\" I ordered a coffee from her and stared out the window, still trying comprehend what was happening. Just as I did my holo-watch blipped to life. In horror I looked at the date: 9/20/2015\n\nThe machine had malfunctioned, I was more than a year early. Just to be certain as Sarah the waitress came back I asked her for the date. She told me the same as my watch had. September 20th 2015.\n\nThe waitress noticed my thousand mile stare and asked what was wrong. I regarded her with a simple shake of the head. I had prepared for something like this, I opened up the shoe box I had been carrying with me and pulled out a 20$ bill from the thick wad of green paper and placed it on the table.\n\n\"Keep the change.\" I said as I walked out of the establishment. I spotted a small apartment building and walked through the doors into the dark lobby.\n\nI gave the landlord the required fee and walked into my new room. It looked like this would be my home for awhile.\n\n_____________________________________________________________\n\nIt's been roughly one year and two months since I found myself in 2015. The date was now November 1st 2016. \n\nI woke up in my bed and looked over my shoulder to my left, Sarah was sleeping peacefully. I had to take a job at the diner, the money I brought lasted a good while, but I hadn't expected the machine to send me so far back. I remembered pulling the faked job application out of that old shoe box. Me and Sarah formed a bond while working together.\n\nI climbed out of the bed, today was the day I did what I came to do. Many hours of research with my old friend Juanito had led me to believe the only way to truly stop the future events from happening was to make sure their gang leader never got into America.\n\nI left a note for Sarah and left home early in the morning. I had to make sure I had time to enact my plan.\n\nI stood in line for nearly an hour before the people between me and the small voting machine that would decide the fate of humanity dwindled. I pushed aside the curtain and stared deeply into the electronic screen. There were several boxes to be checked. I tapped the one reading \"Donald Trump\".\n\nI remembered the conversation with my old friend.\n\n\"This guy's gang only rose to the level of power it had because they were based in the states, if we can keep them from getting in, our problem will have solved itself.\"\n\nI pulled out the shoe box, inside was a small device I could connect to with my Holo-watch. I held it near the voting machine and it connected magnetically. Sweat was beading from my face as I tapped away on my watch. Rigging the amount of votes to the perfect amount.\n\nThe watch beeped and a promp popped up asking \"Are You Sure?\". This was it, after all this time, this is what I came to do.\n\nI froze as I heard the curtain rustle from behind me, and I felt cold steel on the back of my neck.\n\n\"Who are you?\" I shakily asked.\n\n\"My name, is Sancho Santaolalla. And if you hit that button, you will die.\" He replied\n\n\"How... How did you find me?\" I demanded\n\n\"We got a hold of your buddy, he talked after enough 'encouragement'. It took us a long time to find you, hard to find someone who was technically never born.\"\n\nI had rigged the machine to be nearly unusable after I left, somehow they had rebuilt it. But along with bringing back the machine, they brought back whatever bug sent me to 2015.\n\n\"If you hit that button, don't think we won't forget about that girlfriend of yours.\" he taunted at me\n\nI didn't want to hit the button, I wanted to live out the rest of my life. But I knew that I had no choice.\n\nThis was my gift to humanity.\n\nI hit the button and watched as the machine input thousands upon thousands of votes for Donald Trump. I braced myself for death, and flinched as I heard the gun go off right behind my head.\n\nThe pain in my ears was surprisingly the only pain I felt. I turned around to see what had happened, and saw the gun pointed at the roof. Someone had come up behind Sancho and was holding his gun away from my face.\n\nSancho was frozen with surprise as he looked back at the Beautiful-Haired man who foiled his plan.\n\nDonald Trump snatched the gun from his hand and chucked it across the room.\n\n\"N-no. Not you!\" Sancho said in the most terrified voice I've ever heard.\n\nDonald Trump grabbed Sancho's face, covering it.\n\n\"Sancho, you're fired.\"\n\nA blinding light shot out from the space between Trump's hand and Sancho's face. Sancho screamed in pain as his face was burned with pure freedom. He fell to the floor, lifeless.\n\nThank you, Donald Trump.\n\nThank you.", "I did not know what awaited me in this strange and savage era. What sort of depredations I would undergo without proper protection. So I took two weapons, the symbolic weapons of my people.\n\nWe told stories of this ancient time, when men squabbled over scant resources instead of working together in glorious Harmony. I knew that if I had no money, I would not eat. So I brought five pounds of solid gold. And I brought victuals, too, just in case. \n\nWe knew that this was a time when different groups of people looked different, races they were called. They lived in many disparate societies called countries. So I took ancient tomes in case some racial difference or another of their strange customs left me bewildered.\n\nAnd I took a Gift.\n\nOne of the ancient books I had read suggested that the people of 2015 were indeed ready for this gift, and had been for over a century-and-a-half. I can only hope the old luminary who wrote it was right. His name is sacred to our people, but research suggested that his reputation in 2015 would be a bit mixed.\n\nNow, I am here. In a public forum, in the greatest of the ancient cities. I walk to its center. I hold my symbolic weapons aloft and proclaim the news of my Gift.\n\n***\n\nIn Times Square, a crowd gathers to watch the man from a safe distance. Those who are close to him scramble away. He is clearly deranged, but he appears to be going for theatrics rather than trying to actually harm someone.\n\nHe brandishes two cast-iron instruments in the air. A hammer and. . . A sword? No, a sickle. And he speaks:\n\n\"People of 2015! My name is Kim Un Jung! And I have come to give you the gift of Communism!\"" ]	4
Then make me feel bad about it. Then make it heartwarming. Also, do it to music.	[WP] Break the Villain.	[ "https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wqGG70zNDbI (All Gone // The Last of Us)\nfirst post here, hi! ^^’\n\n---\n\nI don’t remember how long ago the first one was, but I remember the look on her face as the life bleeds out of those gorgeous blue eyes of hers, vibrant and visible even through the plastic bag that suffocates her.\n\n“It’s all over now,” I whisper, and it is.\n\nThe rest of the memory comes only in pictures, still glimpses of a still-growing child, like a film reel splayed in the winding path of her eyes. Her body slowly consumes itself, lungs struggling for oxygen that the grocery bag over her head starves her of; her arms twitch feebly before her struggles exhaust her; her face slips, ever-so-slightly, into a faint smile as she collapses and I cradle her.\n\nI fixate on her shoe. It is a tiny little thing, like the rest of her, a white sandal with delicate flowers around the edges. The soles are worn down, traction almost forgotten. The metal buckle has been rubbed shiny with use. Her life captured in a single object, perhaps. Did she spend the years playing? Were they from her sister, whose room we both passed upstairs?\n\nI don’t know. All I really know is that the shoe must’ve fallen off as she suffocated.\n\nShe was the first. I took her life and her suffering and most of all her little white sandal with the green and pink flowers.\n\n---\n\n“Are you sure this is the best way, Wanderer?” the little boy asks me.\n \nNo, I want to say, and I want to shake my head so he will mimic me and shake his head so hard it falls off his shoulders from the strength of his desire, but I can’t make myself do it. I know.\n\nHe calls me Wanderer. I have many names, and none at all. I am a wandering spirit, a figment of the imagination that lurks beneath the bed and comes out at night only to destroy. \n\n“Yes,” I reply at last, stiffly. It hurts a little to do so. This little boy whose name I know when I do not even know my own is going to die. I will watch. I will do more than watch. I will—\n\nAnother car blows past us, and I wonder if the humans inside, caught up in their busy little short lives of intersections and gridlock and long roads that stretch on to nowhere, know about the road I will cut short now. If I could feel pain, his grip might have hurt me for how tightly he holds it. His other hand dangles, a little limp, clutching a smooth river pebble.\n\nI wonder about the pebble. What it means to him, how it shapes his life and why he holds it so tightly even now, when he has already made up his mind. I wonder if the pebble was worn away by the rivers of time or by the fingertips of an eight year-old boy.\n\nHis name is Nico Covorubian.\n\n“Okay.”\n\nHe loosens his death-grip and runs into the center of the road. He doesn’t have time to turn to see. In mid-stride, he crumples like an aluminum can and the car sends him flying through the air. He sails, already limp and glassy, and I watch that twisted road in his eyes extinguished in an instant, smeared the way he smears the road until the real road is stained and the road in his eyes is nothing more than a memory.\n\nI cradle him and take it all. This is when the warmth of his hands wrapped around me really hurts, burns like fire, as I feel our legs breaking and our punctured lungs screaming while the air just hisses out, gurgling as it mixes with our blood, which pools around our blonde hair and drains the life from muddy brown eyes.\n\n“It’s over now,” I whisper, knowing at least he won’t die alone. Sirens wash the pavement blue and red, too early and too late to save this little boy from us. The river pebble lies beside him. He must have clutched it until the end.\n\nI drift away. In my hands I carry with me a river pebble as brown and dull as lifeless as the two in the little boy’s eyes that feels like it weighs as much as the world.\n\n---\n\nHer name is Noelle Lin. The lives I have ended begin to run together like smears in still-wet paint, and although I can still peer closely and pick out the individual colors, if I look at them from afar, it’s just another smudge in the universe.\n\n“I am the Wanderer,” I whisper reluctantly. I wander through space and time and existence trying to make it up, trying to make it matter.\n\n“Oh. Okay.” She doesn’t even sound afraid. None of them do. Not yet.\n\nThis is the part that leaves me haunted, haunted by their eyes, as I look at her face and speak and make those paths erase themselves. “Noelle, are you happy?”\n\nIt’s so hard to voice the words, and I hardly can make myself do it. But I tell her of these horrible, horrible things that are to befall her, how this man will visit her when her mommy isn’t home, and how he’ll keep visiting her when her mommy isn’t home, and he’ll fill her up with hatred and lies and make her life a living hell. She stares at me, her hand growing slack on the chain of the swingset as her eyes brim with tears, clouding up a road ahead of her. I tell her that wouldn’t it be better off to end it now, before the pain starts?\n\nHer eyebrows crumple, and when she speaks, her voice is filled with fear, finally. “No.” She dares me to lie with those piercing eyes of her that have only seen eight years of paradise and have yet to see twenty years of hell, but I can’t. She knows this. I’m not lying.\n\n“Nineteen years, six months, and fifteen days from now, Noelle, you will walk to your run-down apartment by the river, say a quiet prayer for your dead-end life and your dead childhood, and then swallow pills over and over again until you can’t stomach anymore.” She will die, now or later, by her own hand.\n\nThe words feel like they’re torn from her throat and studded with thorns. “You’re lying, Wanderer.”\n\nI wish I could stop talking to them, stop being drawn to them, stop looking into their eyes to see dark roads ahead that will end in quiet, lonesome, self-induced deaths after so much pain and suffering. I wish I were lying. I wish that this little girl won’t grow up under the crushing weight of a cruel world that seems intent on driving her into the ground, swallowing her up whole and devouring her until she exercises what control she has left and does the unspeakable. “I’m not.”\n\nShe draws herself up, casting as large of a shadow over my life as I will ever see. “I will never do that,” she whispers, shaking her head as hard as I always wished they would. “I’m happy. Happy.”\n\nIt’s only a moment for me, but it’s twenty long years for her when I phase into existence before her, tears already in my eyes. And she’s waiting there, orange-tinted bottle in hand, her eyes rimmed red as she fixes me with a fierce gaze that carries the weight of all of her hatred and sorrow.\n\n“You weren’t lying, Wanderer,” she whispers in a voice that burns like formaldehyde and lye. Her voice cracks. “I was never happy.”\n\nI’ve watched parents bury the children I killed, and I tried, but I only work on aches and cuts and bruises and slashed throats and strangled little girls and boys who were dashed to pieces by cars of their own choosing. I feel myself shattering each time because all lives are precious, no matter how small and crumpled and quiet.\n\nBut it is even more horrible for parents to bury their children who have grown up and seen how absolutely horrible life can be and have taken measures to end it.\n\n“It’s all over now.”\n\nI don’t take anything from her with me. I already took her happiness. I didn’t save her; she cannot live forever young in my memories or in my reality because I couldn’t keep her like that, couldn’t protect her from herself.\n\n---\n\n“Who are you?” And I’ll look into those eyes, the ones with a lifetime stretching on within them, and I’ll wonder why I never saw it before. The pain and the suffering and the sadness had been in my eyes all along, even years and years ago when I and my candle and my childhood were still young.\n\nI don’t introduce myself, give a fake name to the only person in all of space and time who would ever truly know me, don’t bother with the lead-up, don’t do anything. I simply stop, collect myself, and speak.\n\nI speak of a strange and terrible figure that will come to this child in a few years, one who will offer a promise of unspeakable power and timelessness that will be too resisting to refuse. And that power will bring terrible, unimagined things, unbearable suffering, a weight that crushes more than the sky. This child will only ever grow up, trying to put the world back on a pedestal, but then fall, fall, fall, so far and so fast until I am all that is left, a lonely Wanderer who desperately tries to believe that what I am doing is the right thing. Until there is nothing left but taking power into my own hands and ending it for myself there and then, at the end of my rope just as all of the children were before me.\n\nIt’s always their choice.\n\n“You’re saying I should die now, and end all of that suffering before it even begins?”\n\nI almost collapse with relief at the thought. “Yes,” I reply firmly.\n\n“But if I die before I can grow up, who will help all the children we did?”\n\nIn that moment, I know the answer before it’s said. I know already the understanding we have both brokered, the pact that we can’t make, the reason Noelle hurt the most. The world isn’t quite as shitty as I think it is. The pain makes life worth living.\n\n“Someone else.” With the unspoken weight attached—someone else will suffer like we did, because suffering is what makes it life.\n\n“Could you make someone else bear that burden?” It isn’t really a question.\n\nAnd so I leave myself by the river, stunned. I grow up again, grow old, hear all of those screams and sobs of thousands of little children as they lived or died, for it made no difference. And I tread through all of that time, weary and alone, with no one to hold my hand or take the pain away.\n\nIt’s over now. Unspeakable evil awaits, but it was always with the best intentions.\n\nI pause a moment longer to weep beside a small child’s undug grave.", "\"You don't kill!\"\n\n\"No. We haven't killed. Doesn't mean we can't, does it?\"\n\nAs the Purity Beam began to shoot towards my face, I involuntarily considered my life up until now. Time seemed to slow, though ny muscles did not respond.\n\nIt all began when a shadowy figure gave me a talisman, in exchange for which he would ensure my sister's autism and afasia would... Not quite be cured, as I knew that would require serious brain alteration, but be more easily reversible into a state where she could speak.\n\nI knew about Faustian deals, and how they never worked out for the one making it unless they were a culture hero of some sort.\n\nBut to see my sister be able to simply ask for a drink with actual words out loud and not sign language or a visual picture card system like PECs without prompting... I signed my soul away for that.\n\nThe talisman was the contract, in metallic form. It bound me to the will of my master.\n\nIf he wants me to burn down an orphanage, I must.\n\nIf he wants me to wound myself, I must.\n\nIf he wants me to strangle my sister to death for his amusement... I must.\n\n\nAs I said. Faustian deals never work out for the one making it.\n\nI did what I was told. The rare moment of clarity I had, I used it to anger the heroes. I wanted to die. I wanted to end it all.\n\nThe beam hit, and the talisman disintegrated.\n\nThe contract was annuled.\n\nI stared at the melted shards on the ground.\n\n\"That... Didn't kill me.\"\n\n\"We try not to kill people who are prisoners.\" the magical girl smirked.\n\nI snarled, and slammed her into the ground, pounding her face with my fists as hard as I could.\n\nI wanted death.\n\nI wanted release.\n\nI wanted to find my sister's spirit and apologise to her.\n\nAs her companion shot a lethal prismatic ray at me, I sighed a sigh of relief, and soon crumpled to the ground, a corpse over the unconscious body of a pummeled shoujo heroine.\n\nAs my spirit departed, I wished them luck with their fight against my old employer, then vanished into realms unknown.\n\nI had a big apology to make.", "I wrote the prompt with this song in the background: [click here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZxnqSTzq6-w)\n\nThey called him the man with the golden voice.\n\nWhen Mayhern spoke, the people would listen. When he preached, the people would drop to their knees. And when he walked, the world would fall silent to hear his very footsteps.\n\nHe was the most respected priest in the land, and the chronicler of our adventures against the Dragon Emperor.\n\n“What will you do?” asked Mayhern, bobbing up and down upon his horse. “The people are not yet ready to accept you.”\n\nI let my gaze linger on the horizon. Ahead stood the grand capital of Klesia; it was a sprawling city, built upon four gigantic islands, each sloping up towards the floating castle of King Neruvia. \n\n“I don’t know,” I answered. It was true. I didn’t know where to go.\n\nCathy rode up beside us and poked Mayhern in the shoulder, causing his armor to clank loudly. “Gisella will be fine,” she said. “She’s a hero! When the people hear of her exploits, they’ll warm up to her.”\n\nI grabbed the cowl of my hood and pulled it further over my head.\n\n“Gisella,” said Cathy. “Don’t run away, okay? There’s nothing wrong with necromancy. If anyone says otherwise I’ll put an arrow between their eyes.”\n\n“Don’t do that,” I whispered. \n\n“I’m just joking,” said Cathy hastily, but I saw her fingers slide over her bow.\n\nI glanced at Mayhern, but he didn’t need to answer. I still remembered the glare he gave me when I was first inducted into the ranks of his army. They wanted every able bodied magic user, male or female, against the might of the Dragon Emperor.\n\nThe king’s recruiters had been everywhere, from the grand houses of the lords and nobles (coincidentally, all their children suddenly came down with a bad case of consumption on the day of conscription) to the slums of Blackvine, where children over the age of fourteen were herded out in droves.\n\nAnd then they had found me. In the plague infested houses of Maple’s End, I was the only survivor. Well, survivor was putting it wrongly. \n\nBecause I am already dead. This body of mine lives through the necromancy passed on through my mother.\n\nIn any time of peace, I would’ve been put to death for practicing forbidden magic by Mayhern’s church. But the King was desperate. They wanted every magic user – any magic user in the ranks of their armies. Anything to stop the onslaught of the Dragon Emperor’s demonic army.\n\nTurns out, necromancy is pretty good when everything around you is dying.\n\nTurns out, the Dragon Emperor’s absolute barrier only worked against living things.\n\nMayhern sighed. “I might be able to turn a blind eye for now, but the rest of the church will not. Your presence will not be tolerated in front of the king.”\n\nI cocked my head towards him. “And what would you have me do?” \n\n“Ride. Far and away. And don’t worry about your share of the rewards. The church will send someone to collect and transfer to you –“\n\n“Oh really?” growled Cathy. “The very same church that tithes half the commoner’s pay?”\n\n “I cannot speak for all our denominations –“\n\n“Then maybe you shouldn’t speak at all. It wasn’t your god that won us this war, Mayhern. But it certainly was your church that ostracized Gisella’s people.”\n\n“She has no people,” said Mayhern simply.\n\nActually there are plenty of necromancers out there. But I didn’t dare speak those words. \n\nWe reached the large gate of the kingdom. Ahead, the Klesian guard shacks held four guards, watching our every step towards them.\n\n“So you’ll be going to the city then?” asked Mayhern.\n\n“…Yeah. I guess. It might be nice.” To walk around the city like a normal person. To see the sights for once. \n\n“Your choice.”\n\nThe guards formed a barrier in front of the gate. “Hold there! In the name of the King, state your name and business!”\n\n“Grand Priest Mayhern of the Sixteen Apostles. I bring with me the two heroes of the land: Cathy of the Swiftarrow Clan and Gisella from the guild of Zera.”\n\nThe guards immediately focused their eyes upon me. “Necromancer?” they whispered.\n\n“Indeed,” said Mayhern. “But she is under my protection.”\n\n“Understood…but Grand Priest, we have rules for this.”\n\nMayhern waved them away. “Go on then.”\n\nThe guards ran into the shack and after much deliberation, pulled out a large sigil out of a sack. He ran back and presented it to Mayhern.\n\n“Rules are rules,” said the priest. “We have to give up our weapons. Gisella, that means you’ll have to surrender the souls you keep.”\n\n“Souls aren’t classified as weapons,” I pointed out.\n\nMayhern recited a passage from his holy book. “Alcefiore 20:85. If a person may hold a soul that is not their own, then he has blasphemeth the name of God, and he shall be barred from the city of God.” There was a long pause. “The ‘city of God’ refers to the capital of Klesia.”\n\nCathy snorted. “In church they taught me that the city of God meant heaven. Now you’re twisting it to mean the city itself?”\n\n“Look, I’m not exempt from the rules either.” Mayhern handed over his battle mace and buckler shield to the guards.\n\nCathy grunted and surrendered her bow and arrow.\n\n“Gisella?” asked Mayhern.\n\n“It’s fine,” I said. Handing over the souls I collected was not a big deal. Mind you, it was the same as disarming me (which I supposed was the point of it all), but then again, everyone was told to give up their weapons.\n\nI touched the sigil and felt a tremendous pull. In an instant, all the voices inside my mind were muted and shut out. The soulmates I had earned on the battlefield, their lives I had taken with their blessing, were all gone.\n\nI was empty.\n\nDeath had never bothered me. I could always hear the voices. I could still feel the presence of those long gone. But now, for a brief moment, I truly understood what it was like to lose someone.\n\n“It’s done,” said Mayhern. Then he turned towards me. “I’m sorry.”\n\n“What –“\n\nThe whistle of arrows reached out ears. Flights of them. Hundreds of them, black against the dark sky.\n\nAt least ten of them pierce my face. The sharp metal slices through my eyes, nose, and lips. In less than a second my skull is punctured repeatedly. I was blind. The impact threw me off my horse, and I heard it neigh and scream.\n\nI remember my powers. A black cloud forms around me, but the torrent of arrows pierces through and disperses my shadow shield. I call out to my friends, to my dear soulmates, but none answered.\n\nThen it stops. My body is pinned to the gravel by a hundred quivering wooden shafts. My remaining ear hears a gurgle. It was a sound that should not have come out of that mouth. Cathy. My lovely Cathy. Cathy who had protected me all this time. Cathy who had loved me and promised to love me forever more.\n\nCathy who is dead.\n\nThen the hard sound of gravel crunching beneath boots. Leather touches metal. Mayhern’s gloves grip his battlemace and I can see his image in my mind. The same grand image that the army worshipped; his strong posture, his bulging muscles, and that violent look in his eye as he stared down the demon army of the Dragon Emperor.\n\nHe brings the mace down on my skull and pulverizes my brain.\n\n“Oh Lord, grant me strength to consecrate this vile corpse!” \n\nThe mace smashes my windpipe and severs my spine. The next hit breaks my ribcage open and crushes my lungs.\n\n“I consign this villain into oblivion! I consign this godless being into the void in thy holy name!”\n\n----\n\nThey called him the man with the golden voice. \n\nWhen he spoke, the world would listen.\n\nAnd now, Mayhern stood upon the wooden podium erected in the city square. For he is the chronicler of the crusade against the Dragon Emperor, and he is the only hero to have returned alive. The people gathered around him, their ears perked up, and their hands clasped in prayer.\n\nBut beneath the crowd’s feet, a shadow began to form.\n\n“People! I come to you now, to speak of a greater evil than the one I have just vanquished! The Dragon Emperor may be dead, but I have seen his true form! His visage was blasphemy, his body was profaneness incarnate, but his mind was true heresy to our Lord and Savior!”\n\nMayhern could speak all he wants. But he couldn’t stop the death that was coming.\n\n“The true evil still lurks out there. I have seen such evil even within our very ranks. I have felt the disbelief in your hearts! People, let not your minds turn against our Lord and Savior. Let not your hunger for power turn to the dark arts. Stay true to the path laid down by our God and accept his holiness into your hearts.”\n\nBecause there was one more soul Gisella had harvested. \n\n“The greatest enemy I faced was not the Dragon Emperor. I saw a villain far more depraved and immoral. A villain who dabbled in necromancy and death! A villain who had turned away from the kind face of God and spat at his feet!”\n\nCathy’s body had not been consecrated. Cathy’s soul had not come in contact with the holy sigil.\n\nSo let Mayhern speak. Let his golden voice ring out through the streets and echo in the alleys.\n\nIn the end, Gisella would have her revenge.\n" ]	3
	[WP] As you wake up, you feel... odd. As you look in the mirror, it turns out you swapped genders.	[ " Ughh… I groaned, throwing my pillow over my head, the sun’s rays blasting me as if I had a hangover. I could still feel the stiffness in my legs from my shift at McDonald’s last night. Goddamn it. I sighed. I hate this so much. I rolled onto my back, pillow still covering my face. Overworked and underpaid. \n\nI chuckled wryly as I finally sat up, rubbing my eyes and stretching my arms to the ceiling of my tiny apartment. This was your decision. I told myself. You made the choice. Was it worth it? “I don’t know.” I said aloud. \t\n\nSighing, I tuned my phone to the music, cranking up the volume, hoping that would clear my head. “Ohhhhhhoohhhwhooahohhh” The prepubescent, screeching voice of Justin Bieber blared, obnoxiously loud. I cringed, dropping my already cracked phone. \n\n“HEY TURN THAT SHIT DOWN!” The gravelly voice of my upstairs neighbor who I affectionately refer to as Samuel, screamed. \n\n“Sorry!” I yelled in reply. \n\nYou moron. You forgot the walls are paper thin here. I thought bitterly. God, Ellie, you prick. That asshole put Justin Bieber on my phone. Obviously I had forgotten about it. Whatever. I shook my head. I’ll remember that when I see her tonight. As I bent to retrieve my phone, my chest hit my knee. A searing pain shot through my right nipple.\n\n “What the hell.” I murmured, I ignored it, and went to shower.\n\t\n One way or another the music and Samuel had woken me up, I realized. My head was a lot clearer. I rinsed my face, and my chest glanced the sink. Why does that hurt so much. I thought, now slightly confused. That’s when I saw something there that hadn’t been the night before. \n\n“WHAT THE FUCK!” I screamed. Are those…\n\n“HEY! WHAT DID I SAY ASSHAT!” KEEP IT DOWN!” Samuel replied.\n\n I ignored it. Screw Samuel, I had boobs. I was a fucking girl. And not only that, everything about me was different. And I realized, I loved it.What did I do first? I played with my new breasts of course. And it felt fucking awesome, just like I dreamt it would. I spent the rest of the day doing so.\n\nI'm supposed to meet Ellie later, but screw it. I'm sure she'll understand. " ]	1
	[WP] A father is searching his son's room for drugs, but finds something much more dangerous...	[ "Connor is distant. Even depressed. Too distant, too depressed. My husband insists that it's just a teen thing, just a phase, just a thing everyone goes through. But it's not. Bloodshot eyes, icy silences, dropping grades and calls from his goddamn coach. He hates my husband too, now, the man who helped me raise him, for all intents and purposes, his \"mom\". Which is strange. They used to be so close, the one Connor always came to for help.\n\nI think it's drugs, to be honest. Seems like a stretch, but all the signs are there. I did do a bit when I was his age, but not so much that I started failing. Better search his room. He'd never fess up.\n\n-------\n\n\"What the fuck are you doing with this?\" I'm holding a knife, found under his goddamn bed. I don't care if I swore in front of him, he has a knife under his bed. He's just staring at me, eyes big and round, mouth hanging open. \"Well?!\" I'm shouting. It's scary, it really is. A knife. Not very big, but sharp. I'd rather I'd found fucking meth. \n\nAnd he just starts crying. \n\nIt comes slowly, tears welling up in his eyes, starting to run down his cheeks. \"Con...ner?\" I ask, cautiously. Maybe my son's gone batshit. I put the knife down, walk over to him. \"You okay?\" He nods, slowly, hesitantly. I pull him into a hug. He really starts sobbing then. I press a kiss to his forehead, pull him as close as I can into my chest. This, I was not expecting. It's the most emotion he's shown in months. I lead him over to the bed, sit down on the edge. \"What's going on Connor?\" His mouth opens to speak, but nothing comes out, just a whimper. I sigh, I pull him into lap. He hides his face in the crook of my neck, tears soaking my shirt.\n\nThat's when I notice the cuts. \n\nThe scars.\n\nDeep.\n\nRed.\n\nAngry.\n\nDeliberate.\n\nI pull up the sleeves of his sweater. His arms are covered in them. \n\nHe was planning to kill himself.\n\nI stare at him, at the scars. The world's gone silent. I'm in shock. I feel like I could cry. And I do, but I quickly swipe away the tears. I have to be strong for him. \n\nHe's off my lap now, staring at the wall, into the distance. He wants to run, to hide. I can tell. Crying, sniffling. \"I'm so sorry.\" He's absolutely, grade A, fucking terrified.\n\nThe words feel like a thousand pounds. I take his hand, like I did when he was a little boy, and rub small circles between his thumb and his pointer finger. \n\nHe looks like a little boy now, too. Small and scared and wide-eyed, like he was when he had a nightmare.\n\nI didn't find drugs.\n\nI found my son's problems.", "\"Phillip!\"\n\n\"Phillip! Get your ass in here right now.\"\n\n'This little bastard is going to get us all killed, I don't know how many times I have to fucking tell him. For Christs sake.'\n\n\"Hey, what's up dad?\"\n\n\n\"What's up dad? I'll tell you what's up Lip. Why the hell did you leave this on? How many times have I told you, leaving the machine running can unintentionally rip holes in the temporal plane!?\"\n\n\"Ah crap dad, I'm really sorry, I just forgot. I went back to watch the gladiators in Rome again and just forgot to hit the switch.\"\n\n\"Don't you get it, not switching this thing off wouldn't leave the time slit open to only 3 century BC Romans! It continues to open doors in any direction.\"\n\n\"Dad, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to do it, it won't happen again.\"\n\n\"You're damn straight it won't! I'm taking away your portal key Lip, you're too irresponsible.\"\n\n\"No dad, relax I promise I'm done. I'll be more aware next time, I swear.\"\n\n'Fucking kids'\n\n'Fuck man dads losing his shit'\n\nAs Charles went up to sleep, Lip stayed in the living room playing his PS4. Thinking about how many other people have an argument with their father about a machine that creates holes in time and space. More than likely none; Lip turned back and started looking at the machine, and decided to grab it and go up to his room. There were certain times his father had prohibited him from traveling to like 3345. According to his dad that was completely off limits; for as long as he could remember his dad had told him the story. \n\n\nJust the fear in his voice was enough to reel you in and keep your attention on him as the words escaped him. He said his grandfather had died trying to find something in 3345. Now Lips curiosity had grown over the years and he was figuring why not. His dad was asleep in the room down the hall and probably wouldn't even see when the loop was opened. Lip strapped his hand to the scanner, typed in the year 3345 and there it was. He stepped through and it was not at all what he expected.\n\n\nLip was looking for flying cars, teleporting pads, conveyer belts for the lazy \"future fucks\" as his dad so often referred to them. Nevertheless all he saw here was nature reclaiming its dominion of earth. Massive buildings with trees run through them, the Seattle sky needle leaning at a steeper degree than the tower of Pisa . \n\n'What the fuck, 3345 is a fucking waste land. There ain't shit out here man. Why would dad say this is off limits. Maybe because he doesn't want me to see where the world is 1,329 years from now?' \n\nHe walked around looking at everything, the architecture was insanely cool. Looking up to the sky he noticed the railway which looked as elevated as one of the buildings. The broken down and destroy cars, being repossessed by wild trees. He leaned in to look at the inside, and when he stuck his head in the window something peculiar happened....\n\n\nInitiate protocol 7\n\nHumanoid being detected\n\nScanning for confirmation\n\nHuman, year 2016\n\nSending PSA\n\n\"Attention any all whom come across this message, 3345 is infected. We have decided to evacuate earth to the best of our ability. If you are listening to this return to your home planet before dus....\"\n\n'Whoa wtf is going on, this is fucking crazy, I guess there was an invasion. Fuck this, I'm leaving'\n\nLip turned around to start heading back to the time slit which he was now 150 meters away from. That's when he realized the sun was starting to set, he didn't know what the fuck was up here so he took off running for the slip. When he got there he dove through and hit the foot of his bed. Breathing heavily he went down to kitchen to hydrate and catch his breath. Charles woke up after hearing the loud clunk of his sons body hitting the bedroom floor. \n\n\nHe walked down the hall and knocked on Lips door; \"hey Lip! You alright in there?\" To which he received no answer, he started to turn the knob of the door, \"Lip, you okay in he....\" Slam \"PHILLIP!!!! Get up here now.\" \n\n\"Dad? What's going on?\" He was looking at Charles holding onto the door for dear life. \n\n\"Where did you go Phillip\"\n\n\"the kitchen\"\n\n\"What year Phillip, what fucking year did you go to!!!!\"\n\n\"Dad, I... I know you said I shouldn't but I couldn't help mysel..\"\n\n\"You little mother fucker, why don't you listen. You just fucked us.\"\n\n\"What's going on dad!\"\n\n\"You left the fucking slip open Phillip, again. This time I don't think we can do anything about it.\"\n\n\"This time? What are you talking about dad? What's in there?\"\n\n\"The creature that we managed to trap in 3345, it's loose. Last time that happened it ate through two time lines on earth before spreading across the universe\"\n\n\"Whoa! Fuck! Let's get out of here!\"\n\n\"You don't understand Phillip.\"\n\nCharles let go of the door knob and turned to face Lip now. He looked at his son in a terrified state; \"this is....\"\n\n\"Dad what the fuck! What can we do?\"\n\n\n\n\"Charles is not here anymore Phillip.\" The voice was unbelievable, his mouth didn't move yet Lip could hear him, feel his energy drowning the space around him.\n\n\"What the fuck are you!\", screams Lip, \"I am, Lekras Orris, of the Trevorian sector in the universe Oklamas. I operate in requisitions.\" Lekras, stood there talking to Lip in his father body, the air turning arid around them, a smell of sulphur creeping in through his nose.\n\n\"Requisitions\" Lip exclaimed in nervous tone. \"Yes, I lay claim to all other universes as a representative of Oklamas\", replied Lekras as his appendage changed from an arm to a harden and crystalized blade. \n\nLekras stepped forward saying, \"Thank you Phillip, for freeing me\", before taking his head off. ", "Monday, 8:43 pm. \n \nMy son David has been unusually distracted and distant all week. Kerry thinks he's just going through a teenage phase, that maybe there's a girl he likes at school but he doesn't know what to do with that. David isn't unattractive, at least as far as young men suffering from some acne while growing into their adult bodies goes. But he's always been a little awkward socially, especially around girls. I'm not so sure though. He's almost seems listless and disinterested in well, anything. One of his favorite Xbox series games came out last Tuesday and he couldn't even be bothered to go get it. This after begging and pleading with me to go to a midnight release of the game with him for the last two months. I'm beginning to suspect he's gotten into drugs. Ugh... I mean, I did a little bit pot when I was David's age, so I get it. Hopefully he isn't into anything too serious. Think I'll sweep his room tomorrow when he's at school. \n \nTuesday, 4:15 pm. \n \nWell, I didn't find anything in terms of drugs. That makes me somewhat relieved, but it also makes me worried that I missed something. David is a bright boy, not that you could tell it from his recent behavior, so he easily could be hiding drugs in an innovative place. The only odd thing I found during my search was this geodesic crystal in David's bedside stand. I figured it wasn't drug paraphernalia since he had made zero effort to hide it, plus it didn't smell like anything off. Strange though, the crystal felt cool when I first picked it up but after looking at it for a few moments, it started to warm in my hand. I think. Hell, maybe I'm the one on drugs. Ha. \n \nWednesday, 10:05 pm. \n \nOk, I'm officially wierded out. David was in his room this evening after dinner (where he said maybe three whole words to his mother and me) and I stopped by to see if we could chat. I figured maybe he would level with me alone about whatever was troubling him. As I opened the door, I was struck by a wave of warm, moist air in David's room. It was easily 15 degrees warmer in there. I thought a-ha! I've caught him smoking a water pipe! Instead, he was laying on his bed holding that strange little crystal I found and staring at it. I thought I heard whispering, faintly and at a distance. I could have sworn the thing was glowing too. It took a moment to realize that I was calling out David's name and he wasn't responding. I blinked and he was standing in front of me in the doorway. The room seemed back to normal. \"Yes dad?\" he asked. \"I just... wanted to see if you needed help on your homework,\" I replied, hazy and still blinking. \"I'm good dad, don't worry about me. I'm good.\" I closed the door and left. \n \nThursday, 1:42pm. \n \nI came home early from work today as I couldn't stop thinking about what I'd seen, or at least thought I saw, in David's room. Since he was at school until at least 5 I knew I had plenty of time to investigate. The crystal was still there in the drawer where I had found it previously, again no effort to hide it. Again it felt cool to the touch, smooth without any flaws in the cut. Clearly it was real crystal, not just plastic polymer or a glass fake. I traced the lines of the facets with my finger and felt their sharpness. Carelessly, I cut myself doing this and blood traced out of my wound onto the crystal. If I thought it had been warming up in my hands before, now it went into overdrive. It almost was too hot to hold, yet strangely I couldn't put it down. \"Dad?\" I heard David say, \"What are you doing?\" \"You should be at school,\" I replied, shoving the crystal back into his drawer. \"Dad... it's almost six... school was over a while ago.\" I blinked incredulously and sure enough, the setting sun outside confirmed David's words. I left his room without saying another word. \n \nFriday, 8:15 am. \n \nI called in sick to work this morning. All night I had feverish dreams of something, I don't know. It was intense. There was a woman I think, but not like any earthly woman I've ever seen. She was dangerous and hypnotic at the same time, fascinatingly beautiful like a deadly snake baring its fangs. I wanted her near me, but every bit of my instinct was telling me to run as far from her as I could. As I write this, I'm pondering what to do. I don't think David should have access to that crystal anymore, that's for damn certain. I should probably throw it away, but somehow I don't know if I can bring myself to do that. At the very least, I'm going to put it in my wall safe for now. \n \nFriday, 3:26 pm. \n \nKerry finally had to violently shake me to get me to respond. She was in a panic with tears streaming down her face. According to her, I had been standing in front of my open safe and not responding to her calling, yelling my name for a good minute or more. I don't know how long I was actually standing there, but I feel like I went to stash the crystal just before 9 this morning. Could I have really spent the whole day just standing there and holding the damn thing? I placed it in my safe and spun the dial, trying to calm Kerry down. She looked at me hard and said I looked haggard, like I had been up all night for a week. Truth be told, I felt like butter that had been smeared too thinly across toast. I didn't know what to tell my wife, so I pretended to be sick instead. I crawled into bed and fell into an exhausted sleep almost immediately. \n \nSaturday, 1:59 am. \n \nThe only reason I woke was because I heard the sounds of a young man groaning and straining. Shambling into the master closet I found David there pulling at a crowbar wedged into the safe for all he was worth. My son isn't particularly athletic, preferring his video games to sports. But in the glow of a nightlight I could've sworn he had bulked up twice his size. He looked like a man possessed. I could tell he had already made a sizable dent in the safe, though he seemed intent on prying the door off completely. Hesitantly, fearfully, I called out to him. He spun around with a mad look in his eyes and for the first time in my life, I was scared of my only son. His chest heaved with labored breaths, sweat rolled off him in thick rivulets. \"David...\" I called softly again, trying to fight every urge to run. \"Dad...\" he gasped out in a ragged voice. \"We need this safe open.\" \"I can't let you have the crystal David,\" I replied, \"It needs to stay locked up.\" \"No dad,\" he breathed, \"It needs to be destroyed.\" I nodded simply, understanding. David was right. \n \nSaturday, 2:30 am. \n \nDavid and I carefully transported the crystal in an old shoebox down to the riverside. I had wrapped it in a towel, careful not to make contact with the smooth surface directly. There was a large, flat boulder that I thought might serve our purposes. David was lugging several of my tools behind me, various sledges and cutting instruments. I had no idea if any of them would work on the damnable thing, but I was determined to try. We laid the crystal still wrapped in its towel on the rock face and David handed me the biggest hammer I had, one I used last summer to help break up some old tiles. It was heavy, I hefted it two handed and felt its weight. I took a few practice swings next to the crystal, just enough to get a sense for it. My son and I looked at each other in the moonlight for a moment, sharing strength with each other. He nodded at me and I set to work. I took three good blows before I felt the crystal shatter with an audible screech. Chills ran across my body and I felt an angry presence, but it was gone after a few moments. Not taking chances, I placed the cloth and its contents back into the shoebox taping it firmly shut and doubling up with twine. David pitched the container into the running waters and we watched it float quickly out of sight. Silently, we collected our tools and returned to the house.\n" ]	3
	[WP] Rap battle between Pope Francis and Donald Trump	[ "Pope: Started in Argentina now a martyr for demons, put my heart on my sleeve and receive applause without needing, part of the revolution to bring this shit retribution, so when they thinking priests it ain't strictly cause of children, killing these bible verses reversing the dogma swiftly, see me rolling proper glass screens when I'm drifting\n\nCrowd \"ohhhhh\"\n\nTrump: yea, yea, I'm balling dollar bills with houses in the hills in every ill city you can dream about, been about the money since day one, ain't nothing I ain't done with bitches in the sun every day different ones, hit the blunt, fuck the Mexicans Ill texify the country with my ignorance\n", "The Pope\n\nI’m a man of god, \nrule the spirit with an iron rod. \nI help the poor and the meek,\nI’m the one that good folk seek.\nFollow my word,\nFor God is heard,\nThus saith he:\nThat Trump is quite absurd;\nWhile I work in white,\nTo help the common plight;\nThose in rags not in riches,\nNot a man of moral glitches.\nTake up my cause,\nAvoid Donald Duck flaws,\nHear my song, hear my beat,\nMr Trump, take a seat.\nTake up the Commandments,\nAvoid all greed and the vices,\nNo more financial crisis.\nA victory for the spirit,\nA society of merit,\nFollow the man in white,\nTake up this righteous fight.\n\nTrump\n\nMy dear old Pope,\nYou’re unwanted and out-dated,\nHardly five-star rated.\nYou claim to be for the poor,\nYet riches are collected,\nBehind every Vatican door.\nNow I’m all for the rich,\nAnd proudly so,\nBut your hypocrisy,\nShines with a sickly glow.\nAnd dear Eminence, dear Pope,\nWhat of priests who like to grope,\nThe young – those little men -\nSome less than eleven –\nwhile they claim to be of heaven!\nAnd as for war –\nMy God, who takes the crown?\nThose crusades of high renown.\nMy Pope in white,\nYou’re an ancient blight,\nAnd I pray for your expulsion,\nYou fill me, and others, with quiet revulsion. \n\n \n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n", "Francis\n\n\nI'm the Pope, i'm so dope, you bitch ain't like me, nope./\nI cover priests, while they grope, little kiddies' butts, hope/\nthat I never run for president. Bet you would be hesitant/\nto go against the friend of god, a future heaven's resident./\n\nYou polarize on purpose, your evidential surplus of cash/\nmight help you gaining voters in your country-wide circus. Just flash/\nEnough verbal middle fingers to get those news stingers/\ncapture that attention, get the system to crash./\n\n\n\nTrump\n\n\nI'm the baddest motherfucker. Rich like rockefeller, lock a/\ncouple grand away and tuck a couple hundred in your sock, ah/\nDoesn't matter 'cause I'll buy your fancy shire up in rome/\nAnd in the middle i will stick a giant residential dome./\n\nYou're just a heavenly apprentice, so modest you drive a fiat/\nIt's all theater, you know that, this is why we both will see at/\nthe gates of hell whose sins the devil finds swell. Does it/\nRing a bell? I'll bribe him cash. Oh, guess you got that as well./", "Pope time, Dope rhymes, \nIt ain't hard to see there ain't never been a mc quite as fly as me,\nI'm the voice of the eternal i aint never tripped a hurdle, \nshould be respected not contested because I'm the best you see, Sit down turn around study that verse, \nthe word is the verb you shouldve rehearsed, \nif you don't you'll be in need of a devilish hurst...\n\nwwooah wait step it up put it in reverse you may be the pope but I'm spoutin the word, I'm the one, that top gun for better or worst,\nI got riches n bitches all while spoutin fly game, \nI'm the head honcho, got conchos, remember my name,\nI'm the big poppy, dont copy I play my own game, \ncall me big daddy, ride in my caddy, trump is the name! \n\nTrump your a frump you bought all your fame, \nI worked and I ran when the Lord called my name,\nI aint living my life for some personal gain,\nYou're playing a game when all you have is your name and your hair is as real as the virgins Muhammed claims, \nI speak the truth ain't placin no blame my sin is my own I aint trippin today. \n\nThe only trippin is you thinking you've got reasons to stay all your rhymes are simple and stand on As,\nI'm varied, I'll parry my hair is to stay,\nI'm working and twerkin, know how to put words to work, \nwhen it comes to rap yours are the worst, \nyou're simple and trifle let me grab my rifle I'll show you my worst, I'll put a hole in you and still have time to lay down my verse.\n\nTrump I can't lie your rhymes are dope,\nBut you're mistaken If you think you can best the pope,\nI'm heavenly youre leathery I got the backing of the lord,\nYour riches are fictitious your collateral is poor I put my stock in something that doesn't really on bureaucratic wars,\nif you can't see the light there's the front door.\n*mic drop\n\n\n" ]	4
	[WP]As NASA announces flowing liquid water on Mars, mineral water companies race to be the first to bottle it and sell the water on Earth.	[ "\"We're introducing, brand new...MARS WATER!\" \n\nThe crowd rose up in cheer, as a scantily clad model in a bikini threw bottles of water. As the bottle crested gracefully, the crowd shifted, as each mindless drone of a consumer rushed to grab it.\n\nThe bottle fell into the hands of a slightly balding Caucasian man, who popped it open, taking massive swigs.\n\nThen, he died, because space water isn't suitable for drinking.", "The second discovery came shortly after the first.\n\nThe first discovery, as we all know, was the water. The first companies to bottle the stuff made millions the day they released it. Pure Mars water was a luxury that could only be afforded by the very rich.\n\nThe companies who managed to get their foot in the door were Dasani, Aquafina, and the Norwegian brand VOSS, who sunk almost its whole budget into the project and was the only one selling pure, unadulterated Mars water.\n\nAll three companies worked together to build up hype in the advance of the product's release:\n\n\"New MARS Water by VOSS -- launch your taste buds into orbit.\"\n\n\"Red Planet Pure Spring Water by Dasani -- treat yourself to the stars!\"\n\n\"Aquafina Hint of Mars -- available soon across the United States!\"\n\nThe second discovery, well, that came the day after the new bottled water brands were released. There was life on Mars after all, or something like it. Related to the virus, we think. Showed up as trace minerals in traditional purity tests.\n\nIt wasn't trace minerals. It was something Other, something. . . Alien. And it killed everyone it infected within 48 hours, without exception." ]	2
Keep it clean, okay? Sadly, not an original [idea](http://myanimelist.net/manga/447/Oretama) (NSFW link).	[WP] The Demon King was slain, but he/she would be reincarnated in three thousand years. Fast forward three thousand years later, a man is being stalked by a succubus because he holds the sperm that would be the next Demon King.	[ "Bending mortals to your will is easy. Man or Woman, Strait or Gay, all you have to do is be near them, open, ready and in their heads. Sometimes it doesn't even take influencing them with tricks- a few words in the right tone, a smile, and sometimes they're just horny.\n\nOther times, you have to watch them, for a few days, understand their likes and dislikes, what they're looking for in a partner. Every once in awhile, my mark is already married. Those are the hard ones- a lot of the time I need to work as quickly as possible, to make sure that they still have what I need when I get to them, but at the same time, they're often the hardest to court, because of that silly 'loyalty' they have.\n\nFor those, I have to cheat. I enjoy the seduction, when I make them genuinely want whatever form I've taken. It's a game of cat and mouse, where the mouse doesn't realize what's happening until it's too late. But my enjoyment of the hunt takes backseat to my job, and so I get in their heads, I whisper in their very minds thoughts they think are their own. Images of my form, relieved of any clothing or inhibitions, calm their worries, make them forget anything but the high I might give them.\n\nHim, I watched for a few days. He was easy, really. He went to the same bar every Friday, according to his thoughts. I caught him before he even walked in the door, pretending to be just slightly drunk. Sober enough that he didn't feel like he would be taking advantage of me, but drunk enough that I could bump into him outside the bar and make suggestions that we go in together. He was interested from the beginning, and I had him wrapped around my finger within the hour. Poor man never stood a chance.\n\nI do enjoy the build-up. Not in the same way the mortals do- I understand their carnal pleasures, but I do not share them to the same degree. Maybe I did, once, but for every man or woman I share a bed with, I've had better before their grandparents were born, and that's just limiting it to other mortals. We Succubi have no shame in enjoying each others' company when we're not on the job.\n\nNo, I enjoy the anticipation. I enjoy watching my victims' bliss and joy right until the moment we finish. The looks I have seen from men as they finally give me the seeds of monsters, only to suddenly find their newest lovers' claws through their chests, or from women finally taking in what I give them, only to find themselves taken so very far away, where they will remain until the childbirth ends their misery. They never understand until its all over, and even then, they are simply another mark, before I find the next.", "\t“I’m not going out tonight!” I called through the bathroom door. Outside I could hear groans and, after a few moments, a sarcastic clapping. \n\t“Shocking, Pete, shocking announcement!” Saul’s voice was muffled through the door. “It would, of course, be much more believeable if you hadn’t said the same goddamn thing EVERY FRIDAY AND SATURDAY NIGHT SINCE YOU AND TINA BROKE UP.”\n\tI heard a chorus of voices agreeing with Saul, the clink of empty beer cans, and the thump of pregame music all mixing together, but I couldn’t focus. For a few weeks now, the sensation had been growing. The heat had been growing. It had been slight at first, but it had grown more and more intense as time went on. I had convinced myself that nothing was wrong, that I was just drinking way too much Mountain Dew, and somehow my balls had thrown in some kind of extraevolutionary power to nullify all the additives. But now... They were glowing. My balls were giving off a dull red light, like the world’s most unsellable nightlight. I had switched the light in the bathroom off, and the glow from my junk was bright enough to show me my own panicked expression in the mirror. They looked like some kind of terrifying alien fruit, spidery veins crisscrossed against the surface of the skin, which now was hot to the touch. My thighs were aching from the pain. \n\tA fist pounded on the door. \n\t“PETE!” Saul was right outside now. “You’re coming out, and you’re getting hammered enough to talk to one girl, and then you’ll fail to get her number and throw up in the bushes on the way home! It’s Saturday! It’s what you do! Who knows what could happen to the world if you don’t!”\n\tI pulled my pants and underwear back up in one swift motion, checking in the darkness to make sure that none of the light showed through the denim. Immediately it was sweltering inside my jeans and I felt a trickle of sweat run down my ass. I opened the bathroom door. \n\t“Jesus Pete, you shit with the light off?” Saul was still outside, stuffing his phone into his pocket. \n\t“I’m not coming out tonight.” \n\t“Pete- Pete, ok. Okay.” Saul looked serious. “Fine, I understand. Just have a few drinks with us and then you can.. sit here in this shitty apartment alone while we go out. If that’s what you want to do.”\n\tI thought of the image of my own face, lit from below with the fleshy red glow from my balls. \n\t“That’s what I want to do.”\n\n\t“PETE! PETE! PETE! PETE!”\n\tShe was the hottest girl I had ever seen in my life. Black hair, pale skin, an unbelievable body wrapped up in black leather, except for some choice areas of exception. And she was dancing with me, on a table, in front of a crowd of my totally unbelieving friends. Hence the chanting. My hands were on her hips and she writhed against me, dancing effortlessly the way that absurdly hot girls do, like they’re bored and slightly horny at the same time. Over her shoulder, I made eye contact with Saul, who bugged his eyes out at me and smacked himself in the forehead. \n\tOf course I had gone out. Just like the time I had had the flu, like the time I had had a ten-page paper due the next day, the time that I was supposed to meet Tina for our anniversary dinner. It just happens- I get drinking with the guys, and then I’m at a bar. But usually the enthusiasm fades immediately after I arrive, and I end up ordering triple whiskeys just to keep my buzz on and regretting whatever I skipped to end up there at the bar. Not tonight. \n\n\tThe girl, and I realizd then that I didn’t even know her name, leaned back into me and whisperedin my ear. \n\t“Let’s go for a smoke.”\n\tOf course this chick smokes, she probably bums full packs off of Blade when he’s not busy hunting her through a nameless metropolis. I nodded, and we descended from the tabletop, her in a catlike leap that took her into a momentary gap in the crowd, and me in a headlong tumble that ended in the arms of several of my friends. \n\t“Jesus, Pete!” Hissed Jason, “Hold your shit together man, drink some water. That girl-”\n\tBut there she was, slipping her arm through mine, and Jason broke off abruptly. He patted me on the back as the girl and I headed towards the door and I flashed him an appreciative grin over my shoulder. He gave me the thumbs up. \n\n\tOutside, it was strangely quiet, but oh man did the cool breeze feel great. I was feeling like it was about a billion degrees inside the bar, and even outside I was wishing I could peel off my pants and air my stingingly hot sack to the wind. But that would not have been smooth. \n\tShe pulled a cigarillo from her leather pocket, and it was strangely unwrinkled. With a snap of her fingers, she lit up. Wait, was that right? I looked for the lighter, but she must have stowed it already. Jason was right, I really needed to drink some water. \n\t“Peter” She said, and we were walking then, away from the bar. When did we begin walking? “Where is your house?”\n\tI didn’t exactly recall giving her my name, but I was most definitely not complaining. I peered down at my clothes, marking every single thing that I was wearing for future inclusion in the ‘Lucky-Item-of-Clothing’ grouping. \n\tOn the way back home she spoke quietly, and her voice was slightly raspy and dry, like snakeskin or bone dust. I found that I couldn’t really make out what she was saying, but it was beautiful in a way, and it hypnotized me completely. Streets washed by us, the lights in houses painting light trails across my vision. Once or twice we stopped in the shadows and kiss, and she held my neck tight with one hand, her sharp nails digging into my flesh. \n\n\tIt all went wrong in my driveway. Half-hypnotized by the girl on my arm and more than half in the pot, I didn’t see that anything was wrong until the girl pulled away from me with a jerk. I looked back at her, a falling feeling in my stomach. She was pissed- more than pissed. Her eyes were glowing a faint red, and there were some disturbingly deep lines on either side of her grimacing mouth. She hurled the end of the cigarillo onto the ground, where it exploded into a cloud of sparks. \n\t“Wha...” I mumbled, turning to follow her gaze. \n\tTina was on the front step, only she wasn’t quite the Tina I remember from our year of dating. She was sort of... burning with a white light that wisped off her body like fog in the wind, and her eyes had no irises or pupils. \n\t“Uh, Tina?” I said, some deep, deep instinct of manhood pushing aside all of the evidence before me that told me I should leave this the fuck alone. “Now’s... not really a good time...”\n\tWhat followed that, I can’t really remember too well. Blinding light, roaring flame, feathers and scales. Let’s just say that Saul’s Volvo didn’t make it through the night, and the half of our driveway where it had been parked ended up looking like we had launched an Apollo mission from it. In the end there was only Tina, spitting into a crack in the ground that slowly, resentfully resealed itself. \n\tShe turned to me then, her crazy light/ fog halo fading away and her eyes returning to normal. \n\t“I’m going to tell you something, Pete.” She said, “And it doesn’t mean we’re getting back together.” She looked up at the heavens and sighed. \n\t“We’re going inside, and I’m going to give you a handjob. But only because God told me to.” ", "Of course I missed the bus. That's what I get for leaving parties like this at the last. Didn't want to take a car because I was a little tipsy, and I already had one DUI to my name. Cab's too expensive. No one was driving in this direction at this time. So all I could do was walk. Not the best idea, because this was the shady part of the town, where the hookers stand on every corner and the dealers line every alley. This is their territory. but if I just walk fast enough, I'll be fine.\n\nI thought back of the party. The ringing in my ears hadn't gone away yet, neither had the vision of this one girl there. No one knew who she was, but I could have sworn she was always in my line of sight, watching me one way or another. If it would've been a guy, it would have really creepy. It didn't feel like this though. Probably because she was a solid 9/10. Dudes were talking to her all night, she could barely get any breathing room. Before I could talk to her, she left. apparantly had somewhere else to be. Women, who knows what they're thinking ?\n\nA set of footsteps was following me. Heavy boots, I think. I glance behind me. A guy in a black hoodie, half a head taller then me. I couldn't see his eyes, the street lights not showing me much. I quicken my pace, and so does he. Oh God, he's going to shank me. He's going to shank me, take my wallet, dump me in a trashcan somewhere. Mom'll be so pissed.\n\nOk, calm down. You've done some judo classes. Maybe you can just throw him over you. Maybe you can even outrun him. Ugh, who am I kidding, haven't been to the gym in months. Wait. Fake wallet. I'll just toss the fake wallet away. Dad, I'm buying you a scotch when I come home.\n\nI turn into an alleyway. It wasn't large, and there wasn't alot of space to manoeuver, but there it was large enough I guess. The smell of a dead cat somewhere drilled in my nose. The guy behind me followed me in the alleyway. I saw him pull out something. A gun ? A knife ? Doesn't matter, toss the wallet and go.\n\nI get shoved aside by some figure that comes sprinting in from the other side of the alleyway. He jumps towards my follower and buries his legs into the creep's chest. He flies back into a container, a nasty crack and a gasp escape him. His hood fell off. He was barely older then some high school kid. The figure, with insane speed, grabbed the kid's head and rammed it repeatedly into the container. Bang, bang, bang, bang, bang. As if someone is hitting that container with a sledgehammer instead of a head.\n\nI realise that I am frozen, standing in awe of what just happened. The figure lets the kid's head go, now nothing more then a ragged bloody pulp. He drops to the floor like a ragdoll. The figure turns around.\n\nIt was the girl. She had a hood on as well. Her hoodie was covered in blood, some of the splatter had reached her face. Her eyes seemed intense and more alive then anyone else's eyes I'd ever seen. Like a raging fire, burning with desire and euphoria. She takes me by my arm and gives me a light tap on the cheek. I feel warm wetness rolling down.\n\n\"Are you hurt ?\", she asks with a suprising amount of care for someone who just smashed a dude's head in.\n\n\"Eh, yeah, I'm fine\".\n\n\"You shouldn't be here. It's a dangerous place. You're lucky I heard you when this went down. If I wasn't around, you could have died\".\n\nShe squeezed my arm a little, as if to try to get the point across. It worked.\n\n\"Well, eh, thanks, I think\", I stammer. Man, those eyes are intense. They're like swirling pools of fire I could look at for days and stay fascinated. She let go of my arm.\n\n\"You're a mess. I've got my car around the corner. My place isn't that far from here. You can freshen up and stay the night if you want. Or keep walking around, if you, you know, really want to get robbed again\".\n\nI look at the kid. He hasn't moved since, but now blood has pooled on the ground around him. He's probably already dead. Why don't I feel like I care ? This kid just got smashed, and all I can do is draw my gaze to this gorgous women who just saved my life.\n\n\"Well, no. I don't wanna do that again\".\n\nShe smiled. I liked the way she smiled. It was a genuine smile. A teasing smile, almost. It lit her face up like a sun. Butterflies flew in my stomach. I want to get to know her better. A lot better.\n\n\"Come on, then. We don't have all night\".\n\n-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------\n\nOh men. Always so willing to do what I want with just a little bit of playstaging and a tiny little trance. A little cash in the right direction helped as well, too bad the boy won't be able to spend it now. But I couldn't leave any witnesses. This night will be a long and dirty one, another smear here and there won't hurt. I'm fortunate that this mortal is just that really; a simple mortal. Okay, he's a little more then a mortal. He holds the seed that will spawn my King. It won't be the first harvest I've done, Hell, it's not even the last harvest I've done this day. But alas, I will harvest him and raise my King. He will dominate this wretched earth and turn it into something beautiful. Everything is working to perfection.\n\nLong live the King.\n\n\n\n\n\n", "He looked so ordinary. That's probably because he was. How strange it was that a simple human would be the one chosen by prophecy to father the next Demon King.\n\nRegardless, I had a job to do. I'd chosen my most enticing appearance for this one. Damned if it aroused suspicion- or aroused in general- our union would bring about the next Demon Age. I wasn't taking any chances.\n\nI sat on the bench next to him. \"Hey.\" I said in the most seductive tone possible. \"What're you reading there?\" I layered my voice with as much magic as possible. I had to be careful, though- seduction is a fine art. It requires a steady hand.\n\n\"A book.\"\n\n...\n\nWhat? Did that really just happen? I paused, unsure of what to do. Normally guys would be eating out of my hand by now. Evidently I had to try a different approach. Maybe something... cuter? I hated the innocence act, but I could already tell flat-out sexy wasn't going to work. \"Well, why don't we cut to the chase and tell me your name then?\"\n\n\"It's Samuel.\"\n\nHe turned the page. This wasn't working. Maybe I had to be more up front. \"You know, I'm kinda hungry and I'm not around here much. Do you know of any good places to eat around here?\" I twirled my finger in my hair for added effect.\n\nHe finally closed the book, though he kept his thumb between the pages to keep from losing his place. \"Well, there's a burger joint around that corner and a pretty good Chinese buffet down that street. And, uhh... there's a steakhouse that way.\"\n\nAfter finishing he opened the book right back up and kept reading. I screamed internally. This completely oblivious moron was the chosen of the prophecy?! Other prompts to get his attention ran through my head like bees, but I couldn't think of anything that would work. I was about to just give up and say something like \"Please have sex with me\" when he looked over to the right, spotting someone else approaching. \"There you are. What took you so long?\" He started to stand up- I was missing my shot!\n\nThe new guy laughed. \"Sorry about that.\" he said as he embraced Samuel and kissed his cheek.\n\nShit.", "James snuck slowly past the open room door. The next part of his plan would involve some noise and he needed to make sure the occupants remained asleep.\n\n\"Beep.\" The computer in the living room whirred to life and the screen began to glow as it formed the familiar Windows logo. James sighed. He was safe. He glanced over at the open doorway leading to his parents' room. No movement. Excellent. \n\nHe eased his pants down to his knees as he googled. The plastic chair he sat on felt familiar, warm. It was always good to go back to the familiar. \n\nAs he set the video on [loop](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=endP6hTviXE) and sat back in his chair, he felt himself stiffening and soon, he climaxed. All over the seat of the chair. He sighed. Cleanup time. Or he'd have a lot of explaining to do in the morning. \n\n\n------*-------\n\nMeridiana screamed in impotent rage. The King was dead. Another 3000 year wait. Why did it have to be a teenager chosen to carry the seed, and the weirdest sort too?" ]	5
	[WP] In an alternate universe, early humans become geographically separated into two groups which develop in isolation from one another, eventually becoming distinct (though closely related) species. Eventually, they interact for the first time.	[ "The setting sun cast long rays of orange and gold across the sky as the two dozen-strong group made its way along the narrow trail through the waving grasses. It was treacherous enough here; the ground to either side often gave way to sucking mud hidden beneath the grass that could easily swallow an unsuspecting human.\n\nXul watched them from where he lay on his stomach on a rocky crag high above. His sharp eyes could pick out their features easily even from this height. They were very different from any human he had seen before.\n\nFor one thing, their skin was far lighter in colour. It was almost white, but not quite; more of a pinkish hue. Some of the group, the older ones mostly, appeared to have had their hides slightly burnt by constant exposure to the sun: their skin was a light brown colour. Xul didn't know how any creature could endure such a thing happening to its body. Didn't these strangers feel pain?\n\nAnd what was the matter with their eyes? Visible whites were something Xul had only ever seen in the animals he hunted. Yet these creatures were not prey; their eyes burned with an intelligence that was slightly terrifying to behold. They looked at their surroundings with interest, apparently oblivious to the fact that they were being watched.\n\nHe shook himself. It didn't matter what these creatures looked like. They were trespassing on his people's territory and they needed to be captured.\n\nHe pushed himself back from the edge of the cliff, grabbed his spear, and ran down the rocky slope that led down to the trail. He leapt from boulder to boulder like a gazelle, his bare feet barely making a sound. Ducking down behind a large bush beside the trail, he gathered his energy.\n\nAs soon as they drew near, he leapt out and raised his spear, letting out a blood-curdling shriek. The group ground to a halt in front of him. Some of their number gasped or drew back from him. He smiled, revealing his pointed teeth. That made them even nervous. Good. He wanted them to be scared.\n\nSome of the ones at the back of the group made as if to start running back along the trail. He started forward, growling low in his throat. They seemed to understand that, moving back to the main group slowly. He wasn't worried if they tried to escape anyway. He was much faster than any of them and knew this terrain like the back of his hand. It would be like herding sheep.\n\nHe would have to bring them to Falling Water Cave; it was the closest. The entrance was a little further on up the trail. He moved to one side and made his way down the group, spear at the ready. They looked suitably cowed by his fearsome appearance and began to move forward when he gestured. They had no fangs bar their pitiful canines, no weapons worth a damn. Of course they would be frightened.\n\nExcept for one. A young female who had been near the front of the group. She stared at him as he moved through the grasses, keeping up with the group. There was no indication of fear in her gaze, only interest and... amusement?\n\nXul was puzzled. Such a young creature, and a female no less, yet she wasn't afraid of him? He, who had defended his home from raging bears and won? He bared his teeth at her again. Perhaps she hadn't quite seen them the first time. No, still no reaction.\n\nWhat was she thinking?\n\n**\n\nSarana regarded the strange warrior boy coolly. The important thing was not to show fear in front of him. She didn't know where he came from or even whether he was fully human. All she could hope for right now was to try and rebuff his intimidation tactics.\n\nHe was certainly interesting to look at. His skin was black: the colour of the night sky, of shadows, of ink. It was like a human-shaped hole had been cut through the landscape, showing nothing but a dark void beyond. His clothes did little to dispel the illusion: a loincloth-like arrangment with a crude belt that ran up and over one shoulder, all of which had been dyed black.\n\nHis eyes were strange too: they were utterly black, without pupil, white, or iris. It was impossible to tell exactly where he was looking unless he made an obvious movement with his head. She realised that while his appearance made him rather easy to spot in daylight, once night fell, he would be utterly invisible.\n\nThe only things that were anything other than a dark shade of grey or black on his entire body were his pointed teeth. When he opened his mouth or bared his fangs, they glittered white in front of his black tongue like diamonds. Everything about him was truly amazing.\n\nShe found his antics to be rather amusing as well, to be honest. Once you ignored the fact that he could easily kill every one of them here, it was quite funny to see him growling and snarling at everyone like a two-legged sheepdog. He could obviously sense her less than intimidated expression, because he kept jabbing his spear at her the most in an effort to elicit some sort of reaction from her. He stayed the closest to her all the time as well, like a walking shadow.\n\nShe smiled as she mentally christened him in her mind. Shadowman.\n\nEventually, they came to a tall cliff to the left. There was a large waterfall that poured down it, splashing into a deep pool at the foot of the cliff. A small stream rushed off down the valley from the pool, probably to one of the rivers on the plains far below. The entire group halted as the shadowman ran forward to the waterfall.\n\nHe made a noise in the back of his throat like a small hunting horn, interspersed with several clicks of his tongue. A moment later, the waterfall shrank and petered out to almost nothing. The water began to run down the cliff off to one side, revealing a thick curtain of ivy behind. Sarana craned her head back to see another figure atop the cliff rolling a large flat stone into place to block the water.\n\nThe shadowman moved forward across a narrow stone slab that bridged the pool; it had previously been hidden by the spray of the waterfall. He growled and gestured for the rest of the group to cross. They did so; there was no point in running. Sarana was the third to cross, stepping gingerly on the wet stone to join the others at the foot of the cliff.\n\nThe shadowman pulled the curtain of ivy aside to reveal the mouth of a large cave. He nodded towards it, obviously implying that they should enter. Sarana followed the lead members of her group as they moved forward. There was no light beyond the first few feet, and that was only due to the sun.\n\nOne of the men (Mr. Henning, was it?) at the front of the group stopped for a moment. There was a bright flare of flame as he struck a match against the rough wall of the passage and began to hold it to a larger torch. The oil-soaked rags wrapped around it sputtered and began to catch fire.\n\nSuddenly, there was a howl of rage, and the shadowman was unexpectedly amongst them. With a single blow from the shaft of his spear, he knocked the torch from Henning's hand. It went out as it hit the stone floor and rolled away.\n\nSarana saw the shadowman stare at Henning for several long moments in the half-light from the entrance. He slowly shook his head. Sarana looked behind them to see that everyone had crossed the narrow bridge. The waterfall was abruptly unblocked and water began to pour past the entrance again. The last few rays of the sun's light were refracted through the glassy surface of the falling liquid in strange patterns.\n\nThe shadowman looked back at them and held up a hand, then pointed at the darkness behind him. He reached down and grabbed Sarana's hand before she could pull away and began to drag her into the darkness. She had enough presence of mind to grab the hand of the next man in line behind her, who took the hand of the person behind him in turn, so that everyone in the group was in a long chain being led by the shadowman.\n\nIt wasn't long before they were unable to see anything. Sarana had to rely on the firm grip of the shadowman leading her and trust that the floor would be clear of any rocks that could trip her up. She closed her eyes tightly; they weren't much help in this darkness, and she could concentrate more on her hearing and sense of touch. The feeling of the rough palm of the shadowman grasping her hand, the echoes of shuffling feet and whispers from behind. It was surreal.\n\nThey were led through several twists and turns in utter blackness. She tried to keep track of them all, but soon lost count. Several times, she heard the sound of rushing water nearby and wondered if they were passing underground streams. There was an occasional mist on her face at times, or a droplet of water from above. The temperature was much lower here as well; she was almost shivering slightly after the relative warmth of the surface.\n\nSuddenly, there was the sense of a large echoing space, and she opened her eyes. There were a few lights in the darkness now: white globes barely brighter than matchsticks, but they seemed almost blinding now.\n\nShe sensed faces in the darkness, and there were definitely voices muttering. The shadowman led them past and down a smooth slope. He finally stopped and allowed the group to bunch up. Then he let go of her hand and there was the sound of scraping metal just ahead of her.\n\nShe was suddenly grabbed and pushed forwards into what felt like a much smaller space than before. Everyone else was pushed through as well, squashing them all into a tiny space. She fought her way back to where the door was, only to encounter a crude lattice of iron bars. She pressed her face to it and felt warm breath on her cheeks. He* was in front of her.\n\n'Please,' she said. 'Let us out.'\n\nThere was a long pause. Then she felt him take her hand through the bars and pull it upwards. She felt a warm pressure on her knuckles as he kissed her hand and let it fall back. Out of the darkness, she heard him speak a single word.\n\n'Wait.'" ]	1
	[WP] Imagination is sold by the bottle	[ "I looked down at my itinerary the machine had given me for the day. \n\n8 a.m. -- Shower, breakfast. Ready for work by 9.\n\n9 a.m. - 12 p.m. -- Work.\n\n12 p.m. - 1 p.m. -- Lunch. \n\n1 p.m. - 6 p.m. -- Work. \n\n6 p.m. - 7 p.m. -- Dinner. \n\n7 p.m. - 9 p.m. -- Socializing. \n\nI sighed and looked at the cold metal clock on the wall. It was 7:52 in the morning, and I was not excited for the day today. I walked outside of my room and headed for the cafeteria. The smooth and pale walls of the building were studded with doors identical to mine, except they bore different numbers and belonged to different people. \n\nOthers were walking the same way as me, some yawning as their brains woke up to match their feet. No one was smiling. \n\nThere was no need to smile, I concluded long ago, as there was no reason to be happy. Granted, there was no reason to be sad either. All the worrying and pain was removed from our lives, as long as we followed what the machine told us to. \n\nAccording to the education manual, a long time ago, people had freedom to basically do whatever they wanted. There were terrible things that happened because people could exercise their agency and \"abstract\" thinking. Now, freethinkers are the ones who live in special apartments, separated from the rest of us. They are the ones who come up with innovations and ideas of their own while the rest of us follow the machine's orders. \n\nThough specifics aren't mention in the manual, eventually society came to be what it is today. Ordered. Planned. Systematic. Perfected. \n\nI was almost to the cafeteria when someone grabbed my hand and pulled me out of the stream of people all walking toward breakfast. \n\n\"I have an offer for you,\" said the girl clutching my hand. \n\n\"What?\" I replied, staring at her. She had long, curly hair. No one in this quadrant was allowed to have hair past shoulder length. \n\n\"This.\" \n\nShe held up a small glass bottle, corked and sealed with dark, crumbling wax. It had something in it, but I couldn't tell what it was. \n\n\"It's a one-time offer,\" she said solemnly. \n\n\"Why would I want that?\" I asked. I have no use for trinkets. The bottle was too small to hold much liquid, and there was already something in it anyway. \n\n\"Do you ever dream?\" she asked. \n\nI paused. Those were mentioned in the manual. Sometimes, people would wake up and remember things happening to them, or things they did. Except those things never happened in real life. They were just making them up in their sleep. Dreams of any kind were supposed to be reported to the Greater Good. There was no punishment, except that you had to stop them by taking different pills than usual, and report back in one month. \n\nIt happened to me once. I remember my dream. I reported it, and I haven't had one since, but I still remember my dream. I was back in Education. My teacher told me that my name was not Klari anymore. It was Mila. I tried to disagree with her, but when I spoke, I spoke words of agreement. I tried to tell my teacher that my name was Klari, but I kept repeating that I was Mila. When I awoke I realized it was a dream. And it was not a pleasant one. During socializing time, some of my neighbors had talked about their dreams. Most of them had dreams that sounded wonderful. \n\n\"Have you ever dreamed before? Do you remember?\" the girl said, furrowing her brows. \n\n\"Yes. I reported it immediately,\" I said. \n\n\"Why would you-- never mind. Do you want to dream again? Do you want to control your life? Your thoughts? To think for yourself?\" she questioned. \n\n\"There is no need for that. Why would I bother myself with searching for answers provided for me by--\" I was cut short by the sight of two Moderators gliding over, their loose dark clothing swirling around them. \n\nThe girl hastily ran away, hopping the short wall dividing each apartment complex courtyard from each other. One Moderators followed her, its mechanical legs barely making any noise against the gravel. The other addressed me, asking if I knew the girl. Since I didn't have any relevant information, it left to follow its partner. \n\nThen I noticed something in my pocket. I reached inside and felt a small glass object, with wax over one end. The girl had somehow slipped it into my pocket before she ran. I remembered her words. Do you want to control your life? Your thoughts? To think for yourself?\n\nI turned around and went back to my room. I locked the door, and looked at the bottle. Inside was a small data storage brick, something I recognized from my last quarter's technology job. There was also a piece of paper with the words \"Freedom is inside. Password: Imagination\". " ]	1
Tell me, did we made front page?	[WP] The sirens sounded one last time. It's over now, it's done, we can rest now.	[ "The sirens sounded one last time. The conflict is over. It is done. I lay back, rest. Imagery from the war passes through my mind; friends dying at my side, no time for goodbyes or drama, -- we jokingly said our goodbyes when it began -- the intimidating enemy, with only blood and chaos on their minds. But we are the victors. Judgement day has been ever so slightly delayed. But what next? Where do I go? \n\nShocking questions unravel in front of me, ones that I cannot answer, as I take off my headphones. Maybe I should get out of the basement, live for a moment or two. I climb the stairs, open the fridge, take a cold beer. 'Good job, man,' I say to myself after taking a sip. 'We rekt those n00bs hard.' \n", "\"We can rest now\" i said turning to the group. \n\"Yeah, until tomorrow night when another bombing run will force us into your basement\" snaped Phillip. \n\"Look we have to make the best of the situation and its not like you have anywhere safer, now grab the girls and the kids and lets get up stairs to see whats been damaged.\" I started up the wooden stairs to the kitchen, i opened the door to see the back wall where my stove used to be had been knocked down. \n\"Shit, looks like cold soup for breakfast tomorrow.\" Phillip came up behind me followed closely by our wives and my two sons. Phillip had been my neighbor for the past 9 years. He had a son fighting over in France. Ever since his son left hes been in a foul mood, i cant say i blame him. To think of my own sons over there, fighting for their lives, i cant bear the thought. \n\"Hey, David what is that thing?\" Phillip called out. He was standing in my yard looking at the pile of rubble that was my back kitchen wall. I walked down and stood next to him. \n\"What thing are you talking about?\" Phillip pointed to a large metal pipe in the rubble.\n\n\nAnother officer walked over. \n\"How many here Grayson?\" He asked.\n\"Six, two men, two women, and two young boys. Looks like a delayed blast.\" \nBastard huns, i swear they do this on purpose. Well that makes 37 for this block, tally them up and turn in the report to the office.\"", " “You will rest when you are dead, soldier!” the lieutenant yelled at me, dragging me through the field of corpses, both ours and theirs.\n\nOne chime means enemy aircrafts approaching. Naturally, all forces get in position.\n\n“Get up you cowardly scum! Make your country proud!” he keeps shouting, or that’s all I can figure out. My ears are messed up pretty badly and it doesn’t help that he keeps banging my body against rocks, puddles, arms, boots…\n\nTwo chimes means bombs away. Take shelter. We did.\n\n“Simmons, I swear to God if you don’t get up right now, I will have you court martialed and sent into prison for this life and your next one!”\n\nMy gaze falls indifferently to my left, my head bobbing lightly, I can only decipher scorched earth, no signs of life, but the sky is blue.\n\n“Alright, Simmons, we need to take shelter here. Let’s go over those trees.” \n\nThree chimes means nuclear. Say your prayers.\n\nLieutenant goes missing for a second, my head perfectly aligned with the ground, naked tree branches and a blue sky. \n\nWe were hit pretty badly by the first wave of attack, they came at us from all directions. The whole battalion was wiped out, I don’t know how the lieutenant survived, but he was clearly the only one. \n\n“Simmons, what are you doing? Get the wood for the fire! Or maybe we shouldn’t light one, quite the target, good thinking Simmons.”\n\nSounds of him setting up camo and an impromptu tent. \n\nFour chimes means pull back. That’s what we started doing. \n\n“Simmons, I don’t know what happened, but I’ll be goddamned if I’m gonna let you die, you’re the last soldier on the face of the earth and you better pull it together.” \n\nThe lieutenant kept on mumbling. I was pretty sure he was wacked out of his mind, gone FUBAR. \n\n“There were rumours, Simmons, military gossip, but I never believed them. Talk of a code. A message, a “plan of action” in case something like this ever happened.”\n\nI had no idea what he was on about. All I knew was the the enemy was superior, we were slaughtered and we were called for retreat. \n\nThen, the sirens sounded one last time. There was no known meaning for five siren calls. \n\n**\n\nTheir lives are simple, so it was very simple to take them. Their codes are simple, so we read right through them. Their government is simple, it was only a matter of time to overtake them. \n\nWe came from a distance and this planet is ideal. They were killing it, so we killed them. \n\nIt will only take a few hours to eradicate the planet. Clean up phase will begin shortly but until then, we might get some sleep. \n\nThe sirens sounded one last time.\nIt's over now, it's done, we can rest now.\n", "the monster inside me continued to grow with every waking moment under the spell of this creature.\n15 years ago, I graduated from medical school with high hopes and dreams for the undetermined future. \n10 years ago, during my collaboration with frank hartley, a new bacterium was discovered that thrives on an algae below the Pacific Ocean surface. Marianna's trench, a 7 mile deep valley, was rarely explored. Dr. Hartley and I launched several expeditions to collect samples of this bacteria.\n5 years ago we manipulated the bacterium called methermophila. this bacteria, if properly contained, can ultimately fend off the production of cancer cells AND destroy the cells more quickly and efficiently than chemotherapy or other methods. \n2 years ago we finished all tests performed on rats and other mamals and released it to the public as a cancer preventative and cancer killer\n18 months ago we were the wealthiest most loved doctors in the world...\nuntil New York Times headlines a story about a user of our cure who developed symptoms that resembled those of small pox. painful, brutal, slow swelling of the arteries... rashes, sweating, high fever... and over time, the person affected slowly dies an agonizing death. \n12 months ago over 20% of humans developed these symptoms and 15% had already died. for some, the bacteria acts fast, while others may take 10x longer. \n6 months ago, the disease was discovered to be caused by a chemical imbalance in the brain. the chemicals are fed on by the bacteria along with the cancer cells. this disease became HIGHLY contagious and can travel through air, water, and animals. \n90% of the WORLD took our antidote...\n3 months ago, I started showing symptoms along with dr. Hartley\nnow I sit here with Hartley. I contemplate how this defect was not discovered. I wonder how this menacing bacteria has turned bad. I relive the moments of doubt and uncertainty over shadowed by error and misfortune. I listen to the sound of evacuation sirens wailing in Washington, D.C. \nit's too late now\n\nI have destroyed the majority of the human race. \nI have obliterated any hope of a successful future.\n\nas I sit next to the aching Dr. hartley in our destroyed lab, he takes out a syringe. \n\n\"goodbye world. I am sorry I have failed you\" Hartley says as he gulps down the last of his scotch and injects himself. hartley's eyes shutter to a close.\n\nI take the syringe.\n\n\"I... I....\" I can't force the words out of my mouth \"I'm sorry\"\n\nI take the needle, feel it penetrate my skin... I feel the liquid coarse through my veins.\n\n my vision gets blurry. I can't think straight. the sirens fade. \"it's over\" I thought. \n\nI painfully yet peacefully doze off into my good nights rest of eternity. ", "The sirens ended hours ago. The central computer diverted their power source to extending life support a few precious hours more. It was for nothing in the end, as I am the last survivor on this ship. Humanity's last hope, Redemption flew away from a corrupt, poisoned world. We only lasted two weeks before they found us. The aliens thought we were weak. They're all dead now. So is our entire crew, but we made those bastards pay. 500 humans were on this ship when they boarded, breaching the hull. The fuckers don't have to breathe so they were content to let us suffocate and take the ship with no resistance. Hundreds died almost instantly, sucked out into the endless oblivion of space. By the time life support sealed the breach, we knew what was happening. Those who could find weapons armed themselves, and those who couldn't braced themselves. They killed us off methodically, groups of 10 or 15 hunting down lone survivors. A group of 7, myself included, barricaded ourselves in the kitchens. They assaulted dozens of times, destroying any fortifications we had made then rushing in to finish us off. Their fatal flaw was underestimating our strength, and our will to live. The aliens had vastly superior weaponry, but we had a massive upper hand in size. I cannot tell you how many of those little blue fucks I choked, stabbed, and shot. I thought they were without end, but then... Then they started speaking. At this point only a few of us were alive, with one more survivor injured and slowly dying in the corner. I do not know which one spoke, but I only ever heard one voice. I will not tell you what he told me, but in the end I wept. For myself, for my race, and for my planet. They were there to end us all, to finish what we had started on Earth. \nIn the end, I don't think they truly understood us. They didn't realize the depths of human spite. They didn't realize it until the countdown started. ", "Systems calm,\n\nall warnings off.\n\n-\n\nThe airlock closes,\n\nas the red spot hides away.\n\n-\n\nAll this Skin flaking off;\n\nshattered hairs falling heavy.\n\n-\n\nMy Birthing engine, cooling, slowing.\n\n-\n\nA molten god steaming a freezing tomb,\n\nlost away his mortal repel.\n\n-\n\nThis half mind, left to rest.\n\n-\n\nNow long journies they take through distant void;\n\nlarge houses to massive homes.\n\n-\n\nLast to dwell alone, after a battle fought well; \n\na matter of debate of state, \n\nclashing damp swords against rotting shields, \n\non periodic chess tables,\n\nwith our swollen eyes searching for that which blinds it,\n\nbut just two monsters without any will.\n", "The sirens blare in the distance, and we know fear.\n\nThey have tried to kill us, these foul ones, with their weapons and their blades and even their claws. They stop at nothing to slaughter us, to wipe us out utterly. There can be no peace between us.\n\nOnce, they outnumbered us, as numerous as the stars in the night sky. They were endless in their hordes, without pity or mercy. They strove to wipe us out utterly.\n\nIf not for our survival instincts, if not for our determination, our endurance, we would have been annihilated.\n\nThat.. and their stench. There is just something about it--it reeks beyond description, filling our nostrils and throats. It drives us to fury, like the berserkers of old.\n\nWhen it fills us, we can fight, we must* fight. It banishes our fear, it drives us to feats of strength and courage we could never accomplish on our own. We are made savage. We can battle like never before. \n\nThanks to these things, we have fought the monsters that sought to slay us. Even now, many of those who once followed them, those of us that were trapped, they have joined our cause.\n\nFor now, it is we who outnumber them. If they were the stars, then now we are the night's sky brought close to morning. They fade and we fill the places they once burned, where they sought to drive us out.\n\nThey could lay down their arms, they could surrender and join us, but this they will not do. Their instinct to kill is too strong. They will fight to the bitter end, and we shall meet them with our fury.\n\nWith my brothers and sisters, I charge forward as the siren's song sweeps across the land. It is the anthem that plays over this last battle as we drive these horrid creatures from our world. It is our victory song.\n\nThe conflict is a blur, of red and white and black. Fast, quick, ruthless, brutal. It is over almost before it began, the foul ones brought down by our savagery and sheer numbers.\n\nThrough it all, the siren wails as if in mourning.\n\nI crouch over the last body of the slain. The creautre is torn apart, as if by wild animals, and its warm blood cools on my face and hands.\n\nBefore me, the monster's body begins to twitch, to shake, not quite dead, not quite alive. It is still for a moment, and then it is dead. \n\nWith it fades the stench, fades the fury. My thoughts turn to peace and not slaughter. I have become whole again.\n\nIn its place, my new sister rises up and looks at me with lost, vacant eyes. I reach out, a comforting gesture. I can not speak, but if I could, I would say \"Is is okay, sweet sister. There are none at all left to fight...\"\n\nThe sirens sound one last time. It is over now, it is done, we can rest now.\n\nOur world is finally at peace.", "When the sirens sounded one last time, in signal that the threat had safely passed, silence filled every inch of the basement. Every family inside the dank, moldy room let out a breath of relief. We were still for a moment more, unsure and afraid.\n\nMy mother held me and Joseph closer to her, her hands were cold but comforting. As she brushed her fingers through my long, blonde hair she whispered lullabies in my ear. It was clear she was trying hard to ease my fears but she ended up comforting herself more than me. \n\nJoe held out his small, dirty hand to me silently asking for my participation in our mother's charade. Everything would be okay. It was over. We could rest. I could pretend that this was true, I could do that for him.\n\nI took his hand in mine, not much bigger than his but my eleven years on earth had given me a strength he hadn't grown into yet.\n\nAs we heard the sound of soldiers moving freely above ground the people of Shop Street, hidden enclosed beneath the earth, started to make their way home.\n\nBack to their beds where they would pretend that they were safe. \n\nWe should have been secure that night, we had done what we were supposed to do. The sirens wailed and we listened. The sirens stopped and we hid. The sirens wailed again and we were safe.\n\nBut war does not go as planned, you cannot predict your fates.\n\nOne plane had fallen behind, far enough that we believed we could sleep in peace. It should not have fired, but it did. And it was as my mother had let Joseph down from her arms, to walk back home by himself, that he pointed to the sky. \n\nThe sirens frantically wailed again, but it was too late. We didn't even have enough time to look up to the sky before we fell. My little brothers wide eyes were the last thing I'd see, and in my last moment I wished that those eyes had been wide in wonder not horror.\n\n\n\n", "The siren sounded one last time, blaring over the fat beats being laid down by the dj. As the end of 'Still Dre' by Dr Dre played out of the PA the house lights came up and all the pie eyed clubbers shielded thier eyes from the harsh reality of thier surroundings. It was like waking up from a great dream and remebering you live in a literal nightmare universe. God had really spunked in your cornflakes. \n\"This is for the gangsters all across the world...\" The voice of Dr Dre echoes down the hallway as you make your way to the exit. \"Turn down for what, indeed?\" you ask yourself as you stop in an alleyway to piss into a cardboard box." ]	9
	[WP] A caveman found in an ice block is brought back to life. At first he is astounded at our modern technology. Now, 5 years later, he is working at a Walmart and longing for the "good ol' days."	[ "\"Capitalism,\" so they call it. It took me some time to readjust, to rehabilitate. The way of life of this time is, suffice to say, different. \n\nThey do not hunt, nor do they farm; they just go to work. And what does \"work\" entail? For me, it's vibrating my vocal cords in a repetitive and meaningless way. \"Hello, welcome to Walmart.\"\n\nThen they give me magical green paper. Oh, how they lust for it! It seems to have a linear relationship with power, among other things -- possibly attractiveness. This green paper is avariciously and eagerly accepted by those who I need anything from. I give some of it to the man who owns my apartment. He lets me shit in it and sleep in it and eat in it, too.\n\nWhen I was a teen, before I froze, I would kill things -- living things. Such a thrill that was! The sense of accomplishment in proving one's superiority in the most ultimate way imaginable -- that exists no longer. I am told that it was, in fact, abused not so long ago. \n\nWe would farm, we would forage. We would explore, and we would gather. Those lands have long since been cleared, for people are too numerous, and there is not enough room for something so unnecessary. Instead we create new forests of metal. They tell me that things are better this way. Farms are concentrated and ignored by the rest of the world. We accept our food and pursue other things, other elaborate ways to waste time. With productivity concentrated so tightly, the rest of the time must be wasted. I am not alone. Many of them live in cubicles and sleep in houses. Others dip potatoes in hot grease and exchange those for green paper, keeping only some of it.\n\nThe lucky ones think and/or perform. I see true chefs cooking in true kitchens cooking true foods. What art! Such a thing did not exist in my time. And there are those that wield the intelligent magics of new. These are called doctors or scientists. What knowledge they have! They understand me and my being so well that it is rather disturbing. I've avoided them since being unfrozen -- unless hurt, of course. \n\nI envy these artists and magicians, but I do not have enough magical paper to become one. What a strange conundrum I have become trapped in. As they say: \"Out of the frying pan and into the fire.\"" ]	1
The year is 2057, Human driven cars have been outlawed in favor of safer driverless "autos", but one night you and three friends find a car. Describe what happens next...	[WP]The year is 2057, Human driven cars have been outlawed in favor of safer driverless "autos"	[ "My uncle has a country place that no one knows about. He says it used to be a farm before the Motor Law, and on Sundays I elude the eyes and hop the turbine freight to far outside the Wire where my white-haired uncle waits. \n\nI jump to the ground as the Turbo slows to cross the borderline. I run like the wind as excitement shivers up and down my spine. Down in his barn, my uncle preserved for me an old machine for fifty-odd years. To keep it as new has been his dearest dream. \n\nI strip away the old debris that hides a shining car; a brilliant red Barchetta from a better, vanished time. \nI fire up the willing engine; responding with a roar, tires spitting gravel, I commit my weekly crime. \n\nWind in my hair! Shifting and drifting, mechanical music, adrenaline surge... Well-weathered leather, hot metal and oil, the scented country air! Sunlight on chrome, the blur of the landscape, every nerve aware. \n\nSuddenly, ahead of me, across the mountainside, a gleaming alloy air-car shoots towards me, two lanes wide. I spin around with shrieking tires to run the deadly race. I go screaming through the valley as another joins the chase. \n\nI drive like the wind, straining the limits of machine and man! Laughing out loud with fear and hope, I've got a desperate plan. At the one-lane bridge, I leave the giants stranded at the riverside. I race back to the farm to dream with my uncle at the fireside. ", "\"Yo guys I found something. Get over here quick!\"\n\nEric, Adam, and I hustled on over. Poking out of the back of a dusted over tarp was a recently outdated, but familiar looking symbol.\n\nBrian was analyzing the badge on back. \"It looks like it's an old Dodge, says \"Charger\" on the back. Damn, this thing looks cool.\"\n\nStill in too much awe to speak, we proceeded to pull the rest of the tarp off and walked around the car. \n\nNobody had bothered to check, so I gave the car door handle a little tug. Surprisingly, it was open, so I took a seat and continued to take the whole thing in. It was the first time any of us four had seen a Gasser in real life. I mean, there were pictures, but with the government in the state that it was, it was impossible to ever keep a secret. I guess somebody must've completely forgotten or was killed before word of their \"non-conforming\" gem of a vehicle could get out.\n\nI grabbed the steering wheel, what a strange obstruction. I guess people were used to having more than a dashboard and window in the old days. Eric got in the seat next to me, followed shortly after by Brian and Adam. \n\nAdam broke the long silence. \"Soo, how do you turn it on?\"\n\nWe started looking. There was no fingerprint scanner on the dash nor the door handles, so I fumbled around with the steering wheel seeing if it would do anything. Suddenly a sharp blaring noise filled the cluttered garage. \n\nWe all jumped in out seats. Eric, being Eric, let out a shriek. \n\n\"What the hell was that?!\" Brian yelled.\n\n\"I have no idea!\"\n\nI knew I was onto something, so I started messing around with the steering wheel again. Frustrated nothing was working I hit my fist dead center of the wheel. It was that noise again. I hit the center of the wheel again. Yep, same noise.\n\n\"I..I think it's a horn guys\"\n\nBrian was shocked, \"A, manual one?\"\n\nI tapped it again, yep. Seemed like manual one to me.\n\nAll of us breathed a collective sigh, then I decided to start having fun with it. \n\n\"Eric, give me a beat. I have an idea.\"\n\nAs Eric started beatboxing, I went in with the horn. Now don't get me wrong, the combined beat sounded absolutely terrible now that I look back on it, but with the excitement of finding something thought to have not existed anymore outside of a museum, all four of us thought it sounded pretty great. There we were, sitting in an abandoned garage somewhere out in the country, maniacally beating the center of a steering wheel while bawling our eyes out in laughter. It was golden.\n\nAs I kept drumming the horn, I became increasingly aware of a faint jingling sound in the background. I stopped playing with the horn.\n\n\"Wait guys shh I think I hear somethin-\"\n\nThe sarcasm flowed in. \n\n\"Wow thanks for ruining the song pal you're a real-\"\n\n\"SHHHH!\"\n\nComing down from their laughter, they all became quiet. I reached around the steering wheel, but rather then stopping there, I wrapped my hands around the neck-like structure that was supporting it. I moved my hands around some more when I bumped into something that made that same jingling noise. Keys? I looked around and it was what it seemed like, so I gave the chain a little tug and out popped a single metal key!\n\nIronically, though we were sitting inside of an old Gasser, it never occurred to us that we should actually see if it was driveable. I guess we all just assumed it wasn't.\n\nAdam once again broke the silence. \"Well, go ahead and see if this thing still works! It looks like it's a manual turnstyle key, but hey might as well try yeah?\"\n\n\"Yeah..\" I echoed back as I slowly put the key back from whence it came. \n\nI gave it a quick twist counter-clockwise, to no response. I zeroed it back, then did the same movement, but clockwise. A ticking, on-the-brink noise filled the garage for a split second, but was replaced by a beautiful explosion noise that could only be described as alive. However, it wasn't just noise to me. Inside that rumble I heard and felt passion, power, lust. I felt a surge of energy and emotion I had never felt before in a single moment. The absence of noise in electric cars made life feel routine, boring, and everyday. There was an unbelievable excitement and energy I felt that came from the roar of this gasoline engine.\n\n\"Whoaa,\" all four of us said in unison.\n\nFeeling alive in a way I had never felt, I gripped the wheel and said \"Guys, I think I'm gonna try to drive it.\"\n\nNow, that right there is where I made the decision that would change not only my life, but also the lives of everyone around me. Sure, I had experienced some things by the time I was 17, but what I would go through next would change the future for not just myself, but for everyone, from my friends, to my family, to people I'd never met and people I never even thought I'd meet. Did I know that driving that car through the lonely countryside on a joyride would trigger thermal signatures from the dozen or so drones in the area at the time? No. Did I know that I would become the face of a rebellion and uprising in a heavily repressed nation that hung on to the hope of once again being called \"the land of the free?\" Definitely not. Did I know that that decision would set me on course for an adventure that would pull me down to the lowest lows, have me soaring over the highest peaks, and forever change who I was and make me who I am now? Nope, not one chance. \n\nI don't know, and probably never will know, what the sound of that engine triggered inside of me or why it did it, but all I know is that it makes for a hell of a story, so sit back, fasten your seat-belt, and come along for the ride.\n" ]	2
	[WP] You opened the coffin of your late grandfather, and inside it was a wheel of cheese with a note on it saying "don't let them find it."	[ "It certainly was a handsome cheese.\n\nPart of that might have had to do with the opulence of the casket; polished brass hardware, slick mahogany, velvet the color of wine. And in the middle, a wheel of cheese. \n\nAs perfect a circle as I had ever seen in the context of dairy by-products. It was like a miniature sun, yellow and insolently cheerful on the pillow. It wasn’t as conspicuous for being in my grandfather’s casket than it was for being the only thing in my grandfather’s casket. \n\nNot true. A piece of folded paper, thick, fine stock. I plucked it out of the casket and read the note, written in my grandfather’s wide, steady hand: “Don’t let them find it.”\n\nI don’t know how long I spent looking at that note, then back to the cheese, then back to the note. It couldn’t have been long, but when I heard voices in the hallway, I jumped like I had sat on a tack. Right now, I was the only one in the funeral parlor--I had asked for a few minutes alone with grandfather, before the visitation began, but the rest of the family was seconds away.\n\nEven disregarding the note, I felt that the cheese would be difficult to explain.\n\nBefore I had even realized I had made a decision, I scooped up the cheese, and casting around for a hiding place, lunged towards a large potted fern that the funeral director must have assumed lent the parlor a somber ambiance. I shoved the cheese wheel into the pot, covered it was artfully arranged fake leaves, and turned to the door just as the knob began to turn.\n\nThe funeral director was through the door first, shoulders stooped in practiced, professional obsequiousness. I had made the mistake, on our first meeting, of thinking he was a particularly ambulatory piece of sharpened flint, and further interactions had done little to amend my opinion, except to allow that he had an excellent vocabulary for a chunk of rock.\n\nMy sister was next, the perfect amount of redness around her eyes complimenting her makeup in a way that suggested she had no intention of allowing tears to mar her beauty. Then mom, who had the good graces to at least pretend that the death of her father had impacted her. \n\nI might have been the only one who really loved grandfather, but even they would notice his absence. I opted to take the initiative.\n\n“Where is he?” I bellowed at the piece of flint. I’m not too proud to admit that I received no small amount of satisfaction from the bewilderment in his eyes, but that was quickly subsumed by my sister’s piercing shriek. Growing up, the only thing that matched by hatred of that shriek was my impressed respect at how loud it was.\n\n“Where’s papa?” my sister was screeching. My mother was staring at the casket, mouth agape. The stone-faced funeral director was looking decidedly fleshy, and I knew I wasn’t going to have a better opportunity to escape. Elbowing through the trio, I dashed out into the hallway. As I ran to the parking lot, I looked at the note in my hands.\n\nI would have to go back, I knew, to retrieve the cheese. It was grandfather’s last request.\n\nAs I lurched into the parking lot and the dreary gray rain, I swore that no one--not my sister, not my mother, and not flinty funeral directors--would get their hands on the cheese.", "I had been high on opiates and mushrooms for a week. I really hadn't slept at all, and when I did it my dreams just consisted of me falling down a horrifying dark tunnel with the occasional explosion of colors melting my face.\n\nI had just been fired from job making processed cheese for an evil food company, and taking massive amounts of drugs was my way of dealing with it. But I had a secret that would destroy them, and the company didn't know. \n\nAbout three days into my drug fest I decided it would be a good idea to dig up my grandfather's grave and open his casket. He was a physically abusive asshole, especially to my sister, so I was going to piss in his dead face. But when I opened his casket I found his dead decaying skeleton hands holding a wheel of cheese with a post-it-note on it that said, \"don't let them find it.\" I really had no clue what to think about it, was this the drugs or was it real? I move my hand toward the wheel of cheese, to feel it, to make sure it was real. It was real. I was so confused, what does this mean? Why was my grandfather hiding a wheel of cheese? And who was 'they,' who wanted it? My grandfather hated cheese. He had irritable bowel syndrome, and most cheese made him shit his pants. Was this his last 'fuck you' to cheese?\n\nI took the wheel of cheese with me, and put the bastard back in the ground. Back at home, I cut into the wheel and tasted a piece, it was yellow cheddar. As I took a second bite I fainted.\n\nI woke up at the processed cheese factory the wheel of cheese by my side. I was tied up. The janitor said that I had been very bad, and that the wheel of cheese was his. He said that it held magical mind control power, I said okay I don't care, take it. He said it wouldn't be that easy and that he would need to kill me. I said okay. He was about to shoot me, when he said, \"you passed the test\" I said, \"How could I have passed the test, I gave up the wheel of cheese to you\" he said, \"oh that's right\" It was at that point that my grandfather pistol whipped me. \n\nI woke up in my bed at home, a wedge of cheese duct taped to my forehead. It was at this point I realized the secret. Our money isn't back by gold, but by cheese! Now that I think about it, I guess it isn't too surprising that our money is backed by cheese. Now I could start the mission that my grandfather had planned for me." ]	2
	[WP] One day, you wake up with the strange ability to have money magically appear when you are humiliated. The more you are humiliated, the more money you receive.	[ "I was broke. I didn't know how it happened. I guess everything's relative to how you see it in the end. \n\nIt all started on that fateful day two summers ago, I was playing basketball with my friends going for the 3 point jumper when; SPLAT. \n\nMy friends looked at me and started giggling. I was so surprised that something slimy and moist had hit my face I couldn't react. Thats when it slid onto my lips and my friends burst into fits of laughter. Oh god. I touched my hand to my mouth and looked at it. It was bird shit. I ran off on the verge of tears, humiliated. \n\nI stopped behind the school to try and get it together. It would only be worse if they saw me crying. When something odd happened. A booming voice started reverberating in my head. \"Charlie, what did you think of that one?\" \n\nMy name was Dan. \"Well Phil, that was positively ridiculous.\" another voice replied.\n\n\"I think that was a three out of ten, a four if he bursts into tears.\" They both laughed. I thought I was going insane. \n\n\"Well viewers you know what to do!\" they both yelled in unison. I look around furiously trying to find the source of the voice. Trying with all my willpower to keep it together. After a minute of nearly falling off the deep end, an oversized mole as big as a large pig burrowed out of the ground. \n\nIt's beady eyes looked as if it was sizing me up. Quickly with its tiny paw hands it pushed a briefcase with a small note attached to towards me and disappeared down the hole.\n\n\"For Your Troubles. P.S. the combo is your birthday.\" is what the note read. I looked at the combination lock and input my birthday. A second before opening it I realized what I was doing. Am I crazy? I thought. Any sane person wouldn't do this, there could be anything in there. And what was up with that mole. Well my day couldn't get any worse, I opened it. \n\nLo and behold there was money in there. Six hundred dollars to be exact. I was ecstatic. I looked around and closed the suitcase. It had a large \"3\" engraved into the top right corner. \"I wonder what that means.\" I said to myself grabbing the suitcase. \n\nThinking that my luck was turning up, I started waltzing home. The biggest grin plastered on my face. Little did I know this was just the beginning. I was going to become the main event, in a long and painful journey to the bottom.\n\n", "\"Ninety seconds, sir. She's wrapping things up.\"\n\n\"Good. How's the crowd looking?\"\n\n\"Packed in, sir. They're even three-deep on the second-floor balcony. Carly says that she ran out of shirts and hats a half-hour ago.\"\n\n\"You got the ones with the big text, right? None of that logo crap you were showing me?\"\n\n\"Of course sir. Did you get a chance to go over what Marty came up with? I thought it was well-written.\"\n\n\"Didn't even glance at it. I'm going off the cuff.\"\n\n\"Sir... I would advise... it's just that a lot of people are going to see this. We should stay on script.\"\n\n\"Fuck the script, Arthur! I think I know what I'm doing here. People want emotion, realness.\"\n\n\"Well at least take the bullet points I prepared for you. It's only ten cards, with three or four statistics...\"\n\n\"Fuck the bullet points, too, Arthur. I don't think you're understanding me here. Nobody cares about facts anymore, they want something emotional. They want controversy. They want to yell and think that their opinion is the only possible option. There's a reason you can only win a few thousand bucks on Jeopardy but a million on Deal or No Deal.\"\n\n\"I understand sir, but you hired me for this position, and it's now my job to warn you about the risk you're about to take. We can't afford to have you embarrass yourself out there. There's too much at stake here to mess it all up before we even get started.\"\n\n\"More than you'd ever know, Arthur. I think I know what I'm doing. Is the escalator clear?\"\n\n\"It is, sir. Best of luck, Mr. Trump.\"" ]	2
	[WP] A retired superhero and supervillain who have been archenemies for their entire lives discover they both live in the same retirement home when they accidentally cross paths.	[ "The narrative is here and it's just my luck. Here I am trying to enjoy the last few years I have and now I find out I'm sharing a retirement home with \"The Narrative. He was simply the worst member of my rogue gallery, even Social Experiment Man was easier to deal with, though his constant shouting of \"It's just a prank Bro\" was extremely irritating.\n\nI saw The Narrative in the hallway yesterday, shuffling along with a zimmer frame waving a cane. I means seriously, a cane and a zimmer frame? He doesn't even need them, but he's in a retirement home so it has to fit the goddamn narrative. Every-time I defeated him he always rationalised that the hero was supposed to win in the end, the narrative had been followed so he had \"won\". God he was such an insufferable jerk, so smug with his dogmatic approach to narrative structures, it was infuriating. At least NeckbeardMan didn't complain when the fight didn't end like it did in a comic book, actually bad example he did that one time.\n\nIt's just so frustrating, my powers are waning with age, I've never lived without them, simple tasks seem so daunting without my abilities, so I joined a retirement community so I would have some assistance and know I have to live out my remaining time with The Narrative. I still remember our last battle. He trapped me in a cage and told me he had bombs around the city rigged to blow at 5:30. He had really set them to blow at 4, reasoning I would turn up in the nick of time to find a destroyed city, I actually disarmed the bombs the day before he captured me, he even signed the bombs. He cried when the police followed me in a few minutes later to arrest him, he actually cried. He was so offended that I broke his narrative so hard he didn't even gloat at his own capture.\n\nNow he's here, in this retirement home with me, what possible scheme can he have, surely he can't be retiring, there must be something, anything.\n\nJust anything to get him as far away from me as possible.\n\nThe Narrative\n\nWell, it took some work, but I finally found the retirement home of my old Frenemy Captain Righteous. The cane and the zimmerframe took some getting used to and these pants ride up really high, I don't even need these glasses but it will all be worth it for the final narrative. After years of rivalry, decades of counteractions that complete who we are in the narrative universe we can retire together as friends and look back on our past and laugh. He's a do-gooder any day know he'll approach me and we can get this all sorted out. I just have to stay busy until then. Wait, what are those kids doing?\n\n\"YOU DAMN KIDS GET OFF MY LAWN!\"\n", "\"Still looking good, Janet.\" The tall, blonde haired doctor looked up from my charts to wink at me with one of his baby blues. I raised my eyebrow and sighed, not really caring. Normally I'd give a smart counter remark but I was just too tired like I have been for the past year from all the poking and prodding, jostling and bustling, worrying and stressing. Stress. Just the word made my hackles rise. All I wanted right now was the rest and peace my children forced me to find in this hell hole. Luckily, my residing physician, Doctor Lionel, continued before I had the chance to launch into a rant describing my woes; retirement.\n\nJeez, I'm starting to sound like Exterminator. You might as well just take me now, God.\n\nI silently prayed before tuning into what the young quack in front of me had to say. \"According to your charts, your blood pressure has improved exponentially. This proves my theory that stress,\" he did not just say that word, \"was the main factor for the elevated levels. Would you not agree, Mrs. Tallison?\" He turned the clipboard he held in his hands to face me. I looked at the series of words and terms that I just didn't have the energy to decipher.\n\n\"Sure, right. Is that all for today, Jamie?\" I gave him no time to answer before I turned onto my side with my back toward him and the door. I stared past the empty bed beside me and out the window where the sun was setting with a brilliant farewell. How I miss flying along the same path as the clouds that now paint the sky. I sighed again, wistfully this time, and waited until I heard his footsteps move away and the heavy door shut with a soft click. Finally. That was my final thought before I drifted off into a dream that was only too real not so long ago.\n\n\nZooming through the night air left a feeling of contentment to settle in the depths of the young woman's womb. She smiled to herself before diving toward the dark ocean water. Once under the waves that formed and tumbled above her, she produced a small air bubble in her hand that held inside a fire to light the darkness around her. She watched as the activity of underwater life woke around her. Fish that were small, large, striped, solid, dull, vibrant, and so much more went about their swimming just as if she weren't there invading their space. She wasn't really. This was her for all intents and purposes. She was the air she flew, the water she swam in, the fire she held, the rock she tread above. This was as much her home as it was theirs.\n\nShe began to swim toward shore in order to change out of her conforming suit and into her normal clothes. Once there on the soft, white sand of the beach, she noticed a shadow not far from where she left her clothing. With a slow panther prowl in that direction, she was able to sneak up behind the mysterious intruder. Suddenly, the snap of a seashell resounded from under her left hand alerting her guest as to he presence. The figure whipped around to face Elementress revealing his identity as Exterminator, her arch nemesis and Ex-husband. \"Oh, not you.\" Elementress stood and rubbed her still damp palm over her face. He gave a wicked grin. \"Oh, yes. Now, wake up.\"\n\n\n\"Mrs. Tallison, please wake up.\" I startled to wake with my heart almost beating out of my chest. I rubbed the small ache over my heart and looked around in a panic. \"I didn't mean to upset you, ma'am.\" Said a voice from my left. One of the random nightly orderlies stood beside my bed with a suitcase in hand. After calming my racing heart I doubled checked the room to make sure I wasn't in danger and then brought my whole attention to the one who had disturbed my sleep.\n\n\"You've got to be kidding me. I could have killed you if I had not been so in control of myself!\" I yelled not even bothering to notice the look of confusion on his chubby, unshaven face.\n\n\"Bu-but...\"\n\n\"No BUTS! Leave me be!\" I flipped over in order to let him known I was thoroughly finished with this conversation. I heard him almost try to speak again but I summoned my darkest look, turned around, and stared him down until he left with a hurried pace. Once he was gone again, I fell back into a dreamless sleep almost instantly.\n\n\n\"This oatmeal tastes like ass.\" I muttered to the only friend I had managed to make since coming to the God-forsaken place. Tommy the turtle who lived in an aquarium beside the table didn't come out to see the oatmeal I was talking about and instead stayed inside his shell. I didn't blame him. I didn't even know why I bothered coming to the cafeteria anymore. I didn't want to make friends here and all there was is a bunch of old people hobbling around trying to trade their dentures for an extra helping of ass flavored breakfast. I sighed which had now become a common occurrence.\n\nI got up and said my goodbyes to Tommy who continued to stay in hiding. On my way to the trash can I bumped into a hard shoulder and sent my tray flying from my hands to the ground.\n\n\"I'm sorr-\"\n\n\"I'm sorr-\"\n\nWe both started the apology but didn't finish as soon as our eyes met with sparks of familiarity flaring to life in each others. In that moment, memories ran rampant through my head as I thought about those green eyes and all the times I had gotten hopelessly lost in; the same green eyes I met in kindergarten on the playground when Jimmy Jackson threw rocks at me to try to get me to levitate them, the same green eyes I went to high school prom with and ended up drunkenly kissing for the first time where I then puked into the bush beside the porch immediately after, the same green eyes I married and saw tear up when our children were born, and the same green eyes that glistened with a deep and passionate hate for me only 10 years ago.\n\n\"David? What the hell?\"\n\n\"Well, hello there to you too, Janet.\"\n\nI couldn't think, my brain had checked out of this place like I had wanted to for so long and left me behind with no words to accurately articulate my emotions in that moment. Maybe that's a good thing because Susie Lanson who had probably never cussed in all of her 200 years or so on this planet was currently behind me would probably have died right then and there if I was able to speak. So there I stood with my mouth flopping open and closed with no sound escaping, like a fish out of water searching for the ability to breathe. When I finally felt like enough time had passed where I had made a fool out of myself, I quickly turned about face and started out the door of the cafeteria and to my room, at least there I could avoid him long enough to get my mind right.\n\nOnce through the threshold of my door and within the confines of my room, I trusted myself to let go. And let go I did.\n\n\"EXTERMINATOR? ARE YOU KIDDING ME? I know I said I couldn't stand the place and wish I had a little a excitement but this was NOT WHAT I WAS TALKING ABOUT!\" I continued to go on with my rather loud monologue with a fire I had not realized I still had because it had gone dull for so long. Once I was done I sat down on my bed with a plop of resignation.\n\n\"Well, that was quite the show. Would you like a bullhorn? I'm not sure Australia heard and I would hate for them to have to ask Africa because I'm just not sure how well that would go over.\" I sat up straight and snapped my head toward the door. My eyes grew wide and my breathing sped up.\n\n\"What are YOU doing here?\" I asked, rather politely if I do say so myself... Okay, not really.\n\n\"Well, I was debating on whether I was going to take a nice nap or play 20 questions with my friendly roommate but, as I can see now, one is difficult while the other is just quite impossible... Mostly because you just aren't friendly.\" I'm surprised my eyes didn't pop out of my skull when I looked over to the once empty bed near the window to see that it now had two suitcases on top of it.\n\n\"Wh-wha...\"\n\n\"Hello, roomy.\"" ]	2
	[WP] An identity thief, feeling bad for their victim, impersonates them to help get their life back on track	[ "\"Thank you very much, young man. I hope you like butterscotch,\" said the elderly woman, holding out an unwrapped piece of candy covered with dust and lint from her oversized handbag. \"I wasn't sure if I'd ever get across that darn street, just so many cars around nowadays.\"\n\n\"And thank you, ma'am,\" he replied, hesitantly placing the gritty sphere of candy into his mouth.\n\n\"What did you say your name was again?\" Asked the woman, adjusting her thick glasses. \n\n\"Theodore J. Stevens, ma'am. Teddy for short,\" Ralph said, loudly and confidently. \"And make sure you go and tell all your pals at bingo that Teddy Stevens helped you out today,\" he said, flashing her a bright, fake smile. \n\n\"Yes, yes. Such a nice boy. You have a nice day now, Tommy,\" she said walking off, his large smile fading immediately. \n\nRalph was positive he had said the right name, replaying the conversation back in his head. It was sometimes hard to keep track of who he was at any given time, changing names every few weeks, but that was one of the necessities of being an identity thief. \n\nBy his last count, Ralph had acquired and disposed of twenty-two different identities over the past five years, never settling on one name for more than a few months. He was quite skilled in evading authorities, dodging collectors, and embracing his lack of empathy for the people he'd hurt and lives he'd ruined. That is, until Teddy became a part of his life. \n\nRalph had been using Teddy's identity for the past five months, during which 'Theodore J. Stevens' had maxed out eleven credit cards buying two home theater systems, professional hang gliding equipment, and a large saltwater aquarium, among various other expensive and useless items. The real Teddy Stevens was always very careful with his earnings. He diligently saved for the college funds for his future children he would soon have with his wife and he religiously balanced his checkbook every month. So it certainly came as a shock to him when the collection agencies knocked on his door and he learned of the extent of his debt and the demolition of his once pristine credit. Teddy, usually so levelheaded, panicked, feeling as though he was drowning, and reacted drastically. \n\nSince then, Ralph had made it his personal mission to restore Teddy to his former glory. While he couldn't fix his credit score or repay any of his debts, Ralph decided to do the next best thing, he would get everyone in town talking about the many great and selfless accomplishments of Theodore J. Stevens.\n\nRalph followed through on every good deed that he came across: volunteering at soup kitchens every evening, picking up trash on the side of the road, helping cats down from trees. Each time introducing himself to everyone who would listen, shouting his name to the crowd, announcing to all around that he, Theodore J. Stevens, was doing all of these selfless acts. But none of it helped quell the feelings of guilt consuming him. He was growing desperate on what other good hearted tasks he could accomplish, until he stumbled across the answer as he was gathering up trash along the beach one morning. \n\nIt was early in the day, with only a few people out enjoying the brisk early morning weather. Ralph's trash bag was half full of empty beer bottles and discarded sunscreen tubes when he heard shouting from the water. He dropped the broken styrofoam cooler he was holding and ran to the water's edge, only to see a young woman caught in a riptide, flailing her arms for help. Not being a strong swimmer Ralph looked around for any assistance, and only seeing an empty beach around him, started to panic. He realized that this was his chance to make his mark. He kicked off his shoes and galloped into the surf. \n\n\"Don't worry! Theodore J. Stevens is here to save you!\" He yelled to the woman as he ran head first into the dark water. \n\nRalph woke up two days later in the hospital, after a passing Coast Guard boat was able to pull both the young woman and Ralph's unconscious body out of the water safely. \n\nSitting in the cold hospital bed, he opened his eyes and breathed in, his lungs still raw from the saltwater. He slowly sat up and started coughing uncontrollably. The woman visiting the next patient over looked at Ralph, concerned, and asked if she could get him something. Ralph shook his head, his coughing fit subsiding, as the nurse walked in and picked up his chart. \n\n\"Glad to see you're awake,\" the nurse said cheerfully. \"That was a mighty brave thing you did there Teddy, swimming out to save that woman.\" He smiled bashfully at the nurse as finished reading over his chart. \"I'll be back in a little while to check on you, Mr. Hero,\" she said, genuinely, and walked out the door. \n\nThe visiting woman looked over to him and smiled. \"Your name is Teddy? That's actually my husband's name too.\" She motioned to the man asleep in the next bed over, placing her hand on her husband's arm. He was covered with bruises and encased in several hard, angular casts.\n\n\"He okay?\" Ralph asked, still catching his breath. \n\n\"Yeah, he's okay now,\" she replied, thoughtfully. \"He had a bit of an accident a few weeks ago, tripped and fell in front of a train.\" She said, looking down at the floor. \"But he finally woke up yesterday and is doing much better, the doctors say.\" She smiled at her husband and stroked his hair. \"We've had some hardship lately, but I know we'll get though it,\" she said confidently. \n\n\"Well, I hope everything works out for you and Teddy,\" Ralph said.\n\n\"Thanks,\" said the woman, hopeful, her voice quivering on the edge of relief, but ready to change the subject. \"What a coincidence that your name is Teddy also. Of course, I usually call him Theodore. I think it has a nice ring to it. Theodore J. Stevens, sounds pretty regal, huh?\" She asked Ralph, laughing quietly as she held her husband's arm tighter. \n\n\"Yeah, that's a great name, Theodore J. Stevens,\" Ralph said, smiling. \"I think I've heard some great things about your husband actually.\"", "\"Well, that's just great,\" Charlie Gordon said over the phone, \"my identity is stolen, and now I've heard they wasted it on $30,000 worth of Sega Saturn games. What a crappy way to start my week.\" Hanging up, he sat down, taking an aspirin. He knew this probably wasn't going to end well.\n\n\nThe next morning Charlie walked into his office at ChengCorp, the largest manufacturer of ballpoint pens in south-east California. Before he sat down in his cubicle, his boss, Yen Cheng, stopped him.\n\n\n\"Charlie,\" he started, \"thank you so much.\"\n\n\n\"For what?\" Charlie asked.\n\n\n\"For the files you found yesterday night. You worked really hard on them, and I think you deserve the day off.\"\n\n\n\"Well, well thanks... Mr. Cheng,\" Charlie said, more confused than when Lost ended.\n\n\nHeading home, Charlie found a UPS truck in front of his condo. Walking up to it, the delivery man turned around.\n\n\n\"Charlie Gordon?\" He asked.\n\n\n\"Yeah... Why?\"\n\n\n\"Package for you.\" Signing it, Charlie walked into the condo, carrying it to his coffee table. There was no return address on it, and out of curiosity he opened it. Inside was an autograph from Christopher Sabat, of whom Charlie was a huge fan of. Then the doorbell rang. \n\n\nSomething weird is going on, Charlie thought to himself as he went to open the door. Opening it, he found a letter. It said:\n\n\nDear Charlie,\n\n\n Sorry for stealing your identity. However, you helped me first. Several months ago, you helped me recover from my depression. And now, I've decided to pay you back. I know stealing your identity was an... unorthodox way to do it, but I did to show my appreciation. Maybe we can meet for lunch soon. If I see you, we can talk.\n\n\n Sincerely, Saved\n\n\nP.S: I have no clue who ordered the Sega Saturn games.\n", "Steven had never had his identity stolen. Ever. He was always cautious to watch for scams, never said his number in public, hell, he even bought that identity theft insurance, just in case. But none of that stopped whoever got his identity. \n\n“Three thousand dollars?! On what?!” Steven yelled, infuriated. This is the first time he was hearing about his recent and ‘excessive’ (as described by the lady he was on the phone with) purchases. \n\n“Yes, sir. Three thousand. On sand. And some service called ‘Kinky Phones’?” \n\n“Well. The sand isn’t mine.” Steven was lonely, and sometimes he liked to have some company. No woman nor man had looked his way since college, and his self-esteem was in the dumps.\n\n“So... Kinky Phones… alright, sir. Well, we can cancel the card, if you’d like.” \n\n“No. I’d like to catch the guy. The best way is to let him think nothing is wrong, and wait for him to mess up. That’s what the insurance always says.” Steven said, determined. Who the hell needed two thousand dollars worth of sand? \n\n“Okay sir. We will have a representative call if we get any other odd purchases.”\n\nThe next day, Steven went out to get some groceries. He dragged his feet across the pavement. Everything was a chore lately. Steven had a bit of a hunch back, and his skin had almost no color to it. His hair was slowly thinning out, and falling out. There was something zombie-like and haunting about his eyes, as if someone had taken a straw and literally sucked the life out of them. \n\nA man walked past him, and did a double take.\n\n“Steven?” The man questioned. This couldn’t be his friend from college, who he saw just yesterday. He looked bad, sure, but now he looked even worse. Maybe the daylight didn’t do much for him. Or maybe the dimness of the bar hid his depressing demeanor.\n\nSteven recognized Bill almost instantly. But Bill remembered him from the peak of his life, not the sad sack he was now. “Bill.”\n\n“Steven, you doing alright? You a bit hungover?” Bill chuckled. His friend looked pretty different. Bill figured he got too hammered the night before.\n\n“Um, yeah? Why would I be hungover?” Steven questioned, not getting the joke. \n“Anyway, it’s been forever since I’ve seen you, Bill. How are things?”\n\n“What are you talking about, bud? I saw you last night! You asked me to come to your house and everything, I was just on my way.” Bill was confused now. How could Steven forget the night they had together? Drinks just like the past, and catching up. Bill felt he was obligated to go to Steven’s after his explanation of life after college. Had a job he hated, lived completely alone, literally bought 3 things a week. Same food. He spoke about his purchases a lot, which was odd, but understandable. Then he bought drinks for the whole bar, and invited Bill over.\n\n“What? I didn’t go out last night, I never go out.” Steven was very confused. And then something clicked. The thief! He could track the thief through his friend!\n“Bill, this is very important. Did I talk about where I was going next, or what I was planning on buying, or… like some secret identity, I don’t know, anything that signified that I wasn’t really me?”\n\n“No, Steven. I can’t believe… Steven, it was you last night. And bud, I missed you so much. Really. After college, it was like you just… dropped out of my life, you know? And last night got me thinking. Really thinking.” Bill couldn’t believe the words were coming out of his mouth. Of course he loved Steven, and he thought Steven loved him back. Especially after last night, when they spoke, the spark came back. And now all of a sudden Steven was acting like nothing ever happened?\n\nSteven was taken aback. Of course he loved Bill, and he thought Bill loved him back… but that was back in college. Now, Steven found himself repulsive, and sad. And Bill looked as good, if not better, than ever.\n\n“Bill… I didn’t mean to drop out of your life, I just… didn’t know what to do next. I don’t know.” \n\n“You just meant so much- you still mean so much to me, Steven. And after seeing you last night… I just thought… that maybe you felt the same. I mean, it was like we picked up where we left off. And you know what? If you don’t want to remember or whatever, fine.” Bill was sincerely hurt. He didn’t want to lose his best friend after he just found him again, but if that’s what Steven wanted… he’d give it to him.\n\n“No! I don’t want to forget,” Steven said frantically, “I was just so drunk, dude! Why don’t we go back to my place, and talk some more.” Steven took the first step towards a new life, a new confidence, and hopefully a new relationship. And Bill was all for it.\n\n“Classic Steven. Let’s. We have a lot of catching up to do!” \n\nAnd as they walked back to Steven’s house basking in the love of one another, a stranger wearing Steven’s name watched from afar, and smiled.\n", "I like to consider myself a lucky girl (great boyfriend, fairly content with my life, job, etc.) but after today, I was sure that I had been bitten leprechaun or something like that. Everything that's happened to me has been a little too fortunate for my liking.\n\nYesterday, by comparison, was awful. After an awful day at work (spilling coffee on my favorite shirt, stepping into a huge puddle on the way out the door, arguing with one of my coworkers to name a few) I was too exhausted to make myself dinner, so I treated myself to a meal out. When I tried to pay for my food to-go at my favorite Chinese restaurant, the cashier informed me that my credit card was rejected.\n\n\"That's ridiculous,\" I scoffed, becoming even more annoyed at my day's luck. \"I just deposited a paycheck a few days ago.\"\n\nThe cashier simply shrugged and handed me my card back, and I was forced to leave hungry and even more irritated than before. \nWhen I got to my apartment, I called up my credit card company, where they informed me that my card had indeed been on a sort of shopping spree recently, buying things such as a jetski, a HDTV, and dozens upon dozens of gourmet chocolate bars. I had bought absolutely none of these things, and exasperatedly listened to my company tell me that I had probably been impersonated and stolen from. Agreeing to the company's plan of action according to their stringent policies, I finally got off the phone and nearly flung it across the room. I was certain that my week could not get any worse-however, today was disproving that.\n\nFirst of all, as soon as I walked into the building, the coworker that I had exchanged heated words with yesterday walked up to me with a huge grin on their face.\n\n\"LadyTenille, I just wanted to say, I think it's very nice and mature of you to apologize for what happened yesterday, and I just wanted to say thanks, thanks a lot.\"\n\nNot noticing my bewildered face, she walked away, leaving me confused. I hadn't spoken a word to her, much less apologized-I was still sure that she was in the wrong. However, I'd let sleeping dogs lie, and continued with my day, slightly more frazzled than before.\n\nThe second overly-lucky thing to happen to me was the mysterious package arriving at work a few hours later. I was typing away at the computer when I saw a delivery man coming towards me, clipboard in hand. \n\n\"Are you a Miss, uh, LadyTenille?\" He asked, and affirming this, he had me sign his board and subsequently handed me a light shoebox. Without waiting for my reaction, the man turned away and left, and upon opening the package, I found an identical pair of shoes that I had ruined yesterday stepping in that massive puddle right outside the door.\n\n\"What in the...\" I muttered, now more confused than ever. This was the second weirdly lucky thing to happen to me today, but it wouldn't be the last.\n\nAssuming that some sort of prank was going on, I tried my best to ignore the strangeness, and made it through the workday without any more oddities. As I drove home, though, I received a call from Shuee's and Son's Drycleaning Service.\n\n\"Hello, M'am, I'm just calling to let you know that that blouse you dropped off today will be ready in a few days, tops.\"\n\n\"Um, are you sure you have the right number? This is-\"\n\n\"Miss LadyTenille, right? Yes, we have your coat, and will call you to let you know when it's ready. Thank you for your service!\" And with that, they hung up on me.\n\nNow my body was shaking. I didn't know what was happening, but it was creepy, and scared me a little bit. I drove home in a state of paranoid fear, watching my surroundings like a hawk. Finally, I made it home, got out of the car, and was walking on the sidewalk when I accidentally bumped into an incoming person walking the other way.\n\n\"Oops, sorry-\" I said, but instead of continuing on their way, the other person stopped, and turned to me.\n\n\"Oh, ah, that's totally cool LadyTenille! Don't worry about it.\" The girl said, and to my amazement, I noticed that she looked nearly identical to me, though with a slightly bigger nose and bushier brown hair.\n\n\"How do you know-\" I stuttered.\n\n\"Oh, don't worry about that, LT, it's okay.\" she chirped, laughing all the while. \"Hey, sorry about bumping into you again-here, have this,\" she told me, handing me a big french-looking chocolate bar. I accepted it numbly, still confused. She simply giggled a bit at me, and waving her hand in a sort of \"toodle-lou!\" gesture, got into her nearby truck, which had a long, thin box sitting in the trunk, and a tarp-covered thing attached to the back. She took off, speeding down the road, causing the tarp to fly off and reveal a brand-new looking jet-ski.\n\nI stood as still as a statue for a few more minutes, then went inside my apartment, and got into bed. I needed to lie down for a second.\n\nEDIT-Minor typo" ]	4
	[WP] You realise that you haven't been too bad for Hell, but you haven't been good enough for Heaven. Now Satan and God are deciding where to put you.	[ "\"They made up a thing to explain this right.\"\nThey both glanced over at me for for half a second. \n\"Yeah but they don't get to make the rules.\"\n\"True, good idea though.\"\n\"Easy for you to say, you would never have to put something together to try and iron out some of these sins.\"\n\"I work with what I have.\"\n\"I mean you don't take a mild sinner and teach him how to fully damn himself before you let him in.\"\n\"Well not after the fact. It is much better to go and put them on that road before they die; a lot of the time they die from that actually so it works out.\"\n\"Did you do anything to him?\"\nThey looked over at me again and the devil studied me.\"\n\"Didn't do a thing to him, probably one of my boys worked on the guy a bit. Look at him, he looks like the sort.\"\nI thought I seemed pretty innocuous. I was wearing slacks. I died in them somewhere. I couldn't remember anymore. This floor was actually pure sheets of celestial light. \n\"Say, what did he do, I don't think we talked about it.\"\n\"What?\"\n\"You called me up here, and I show up quick like I always do, and he's just right here standing, so it threw me off. He's an odd one.\"\n\"That's why I brought you up here to talk.\"\n\"Well what did he do?, it doesn't matter all that much, I can just take him down with me anyways. Always room for one more.\"\nI didn't think I deserved that. I was decent enough most of the time and figured God would understand, but he just seemed now to be a little put off about the whole thing. He actually walked away from the devil and inspected a passing cloud. This worried me more than I can relate to a still living person.\nGod came back after a moment. \n\"You know I can't just give a soul away to you. I'm actually planning on sealing you for eternity in your pit. We're not equals. I'm God.\"\n\"You always tell me that, but you are here asking me to help figure this out. Tell me what he did that has him milling over there. I'm late for a project meeting\"\n\"For what.\"\n\"Digging new channels to better distribute the magma flow. I felt that it was too concentrated, some folks might spend a few thousand eons in hell and not even get the chance to take a long dip in them.\"\n\"Don't tell me about this you fiend.\"\n\"You asked.\" The devil kicked at the floor and his foot made a hiss at each contact. He looked at me.\n\"Hey, you weren't an engineer or anything back in the world?\"\nI managed to squeak out a no to the prince of darkness' question, but I wan't really sure about my past anyway. \n\"Shame, always need good engineers down there, place is always falling apart. Earthquakes you know, oh, and also apocalyptic tempests of fire and rock. Stuff is always getting smashed to bits.\"\nI looked at him fully for the first time and he was definitely the devil.\n\"Sorry,\" I said.\n\"Hell needs ditch diggers too.\"\nAn angel appeared with a platter and handed me a chalice filled cool with the liquid essence of loving-kindness. It was really a fine drink and it was better because I did not expect any refreshments at all.\n\"Figured you might be getting thirsty,\" God said to me.\n\"Don't get too comfortable bud.\" \n\"Satan, I thought to myself, there was never any chance of that.\"\n\"So; what did he do? You still haven't said.\"\nGod stroked his beard.\n\"You just wouldn't expect a man like this to end up a wash for this sort of thing.\"", "\"The rules are usually pretty simple, if you break any of the major rules you go to hell, if you don't your good is weighed by your bad. And usually it's far in one way or another. You're a bit of an enigma.\" A man in a white suit explained. \n\nThe other man in a black suit standing next to the man in the white suit grabed the paper out of his hand. \"Well maybe you missed one.\" \n\nThe man in the black suit reads off the rules as they are written and shakes his head after each one. \n\nDon't Murder another Human unless that human was filled with malice.\n\nDon't shout incantations in the attempt to do evil. \n\nDon't leave a kitten in the rain. \n\nthe list continued for another couple minutes. \n\nThe man in the black suit spoke again \"His good deeds add to up 1000 points, his bad actions at up to -1000 points. He is at a flat 0. I guess the decision goes to you god.\" \n\nThe man in the white suit thought for a moment. This moment lasted for what seemed to be an eternity, then he looked back at the man in the black suit. \"Let's just put him back for now.\" " ]	2
	[WP] it is the future. People use VR simulations to go back in time, while real time travel is only used by governments in extreme moderation. After you become the number one high scorer in the "Kill hitler" simulation, you are sent back in time for real to kill hitler. You don't know this.	[ "\"Well, I sure as shit didn't see this coming. My name is xxKilltler69xx and I'm in 1945 Germany.\"\n\nK:Hi Hitler, how's it going?\n\nH:Oh you know, just painting.\n\nK:Cool\n\nH:Yeah it's a bird.\n\nK:sweet.\nAnyway, I have to kill you now.\n\nH:Why is that?\n\nK:video games and time travel. It's complicated.\n\nH:Oh, that sounds fun. Can it wait though?\n\nK:To be honest I'm not really sure.\n\nH:Well I have to go feed the homeless.\n\nK:What?\n\nH:It's not far, you can come if you want.\n\nK:oh.....kay.\n\n...\n\nK:Yeah I don't want to do it.\n\nColonel:It is your duty. You've been training for this.\n\nK:Fuck that I was taught a lie about all this shit. My whole life I was being trained to kill a guy who isn't what we've been told.\n\nC:Oh you'll kill him, or we'll kill you. You don't think you're replaceable? We have countless assholes just like you ready to kill Hitler. We picked you because you were the best of the best. But you're overqualified. You can be damn sure we won't choose someone with your moral preoccupation.\n\nK:How can you be so supportive of this? You know it's all been a lie! You know this guy isn't who we've been led to believe he is. He's an innocent! For fucks sake he's helping people like he's Mother Teresa or a real life Jesus! You won't get away with this!\n\nC:You forget, we already have. This has been ordained for a long time. It's reality already. SOMEONE kills him. It doesn't matter who.\n\nK:Fine. I'll do it.\n\n...\n\nHitler: Hey Killtler how are you?\n\nK:I've been better. They really want me to kill you. They are saying they'll kill me and send someone else till you end up dead.\n\nH:Well I can make it a little easier on you. If it's going to help reality and push the human race forward, I'll just do it. After all it's meaningless how we die. Life is life, death is death. Everything will be alright in the end.\n\nK:No, lets fight, I can send you into the future.\n\nH:That's unnecessary. My place is here, my time is now. Comfort my wife, this will destroy her.\n\nBLAM\n\n...\n\nK:Well it's done.\n\nColonel:Very well, here's the Retracer Box. Get going kid. You're a hero to history.\n\nK:Wait, I have to tell his wife what happened! I can't go yet!\n\nC:Don't worry, we'll take care of that.\n\nZRIOWM\n\nThe Colonel forced Hitler's wife to take a cyanide capsule. History believed the lie. Humanity will never know.\n\n\"Hey, what's this notebook?\" \n\nThe diary of xxKilltler69xx, 1945.\n\n\"Sounds dumb as shit. Only assholes have 69 and x's in their usernames.\"\n\nThe diary went into the trash, then a dumptruck and then to a dump where it was later incinerated.", "It was another one of those long work days. My boss jabbering away about stock value, ceaselessly bantering about work ethic and unsatisfactory thisandthats. \n\nHell, it wasn't even noon and he already threatened to fire Joe twice -the nice one from accounting, not that prick from the media department. \n\nWhatever pays the bills, I guess. \n\nSo my job, wonderful as it is, consists of me taking Stack A, reorganizing things a little bit, and then placing it next to Stack B. The whole thing takes roughly forty five minutes on a good day, which leaves me about seven hours to twiddle my thumbs. Someone usually takes the papers away while I'm on my two o'clock coffee break, but that's beside the point.\n\nI've been spending the last few weeks polishing my German. It's a fascinating language, really. It sounds so guttural and coarse to those who don't understand it, but the language is so richly laden with such fine nuance. It's enthralling. \n\nFive o'clock slowly crawled around. I packed my stuff into a battered old suitcase, clinging to its hinges as though it's very life depended on it. Some twine ought to fix it...\n\nThe elevator ride down to ground level was musty as always. The empty chips bag I tucked away last week was still peeking out from the ceiling tile. Nobody seemed to notice. \n\nThe elevator paused at the fourth floor, as always, and Stacy got off to meet Other Joe, as always.\n\nThe doors clanged shut with their usual disdain, and the car sagged down to the lobby where the doors groaned open once again. \n\nThe lobby seemed a bit different than I remembered walking in. Maybe it was the Christmas tree over by reception. Bah, hell if I knew. \n\nI made the usual walk down to the bus stop, waited the usual fifteen minutes, and then clambered on with the usual crowd of disgruntled bus goers. \n\nThe one with the stinky feet sat next to me this time, and I gagged the whole way home. \n\nThe rest was a blur. I faintly remember getting off the bus, the whole world spinning from holding my breath; the fresh air exploding in my nostrils as it filled my lungs. \n\nThe heady aroma of old carpet in my apartment building. \n\nFumbling with the keys outside my door. \n\nCareening into my couch. \n\nI remember moving to plug into the VR unit, but its cable never met the adapter on my neck.\n\nThe world just faded into inky, throbbing blackness...\n\n\n\n\n\n\"Huh.\" He said, passing me the pipe. \n\nI took a long draw.\n\n\"Yeah, you know the rest from there I guess, Mein Fuhrer.\"\n\nI coughed a few times as the opium traced electric tendrils through my body, sending a tingling sense of joy coursing down my spine. His voice snapped me out of my reverie. \n\n\"Not really, no. My officers... they found you up outside of my office, gasping for breath like some dying fish.\" \n\n\"I'm as baffled as you. That's all I can -\"\n\n\"And none of that 'Mein Foooohrer' nonsense,\" he spat. \"It's enough that I have to spell everything out for those baboons as is! I'm tired of all this 'Yes, sir! Of course sir!' everywhere I go.\"\n\nThe man sitting across from me sighed deeply, hair sweeping down over his eyes. He brushed it away with an irritated gesture. \n\n\"Just call me Adolf, damnit.\"\n\nI passed the pipe back to him, really studying his face this time. He didn't look nearly as menacing as they made him look in the sims. His face was wrought with the wrinkles that only come with an eternity of frowning, but his sharp blue eyes seemed to echo with a distant sort of sadness. The hair on either side of his head was a steely grey, buzzed short to reveal a mangled ear. He looked at me, expectantly. \n\n\"Sure, Mein... uhh... sure Adolf. Sorry...\"\n\nHe waved his hand a few times, dismissively.\n\n\"No, no, none of this apology nonsense. I just won't have it. Now tell me, what is this 'Veeyar'? It is like a game if I understand this, no? Something like chess but inside your head?\"\n\nI closed my eyes for a moment, relishing the high as it dragged my body through the throes of a paradisaical euphoria.\n\n\"Yeah, that's one way of looking at it, I guess. It's like having this one dream that you can always return to; a story that you can live with your own eyes, sort of. A story with you as the protagonist, living each moments as though it were your own.\"\n\nI made a wide sweeping gesture with my arm, trying to portray the grandeur of the experience but ended up scratching the implant at the side of my neck. He just looked at me with wide eyes that seemed to suggest that I had just informed him that fish speak. We sat there for some time, staring at the nothingness just beyond sight. \n\nThe opium pipe made its way between our hands a few times.\n\nHe was the first to speak. \n\n\n______________________________________\n\nForgive me for any errors, this is my first time here on WritingPrompts!\n\nI've always wanted to be a writer of sorts, but couldn't quite compel myself to write anything. Hopefully you enjoy it :)\n\nAny advice and/or suggestions are appreciated!", "Honestly, this simulation was getting kind of boring. I had practiced it dozens, no, hundreds of times, and I'd finally gotten the top score. It was a routine for me now, knock out a guard, hide the body, put on his clothes, move through the crowd, sneak up behind Hitler, and slit his throat from behind, before slipping away into the mass of spectators. \n\nI had surpassed the top score by a few million points and, knowing that my rank wouldn't be taken for a while, I took a break. I rode some dinosaurs, rocked out at Woodstock, witnessed the birth of Christ again, I even took a break from VR all together. I went outside, got some real fresh air, walked through the empty city.\n\nThe silent streets of New York were almost depressing, something like 95% of the population was engulfed in their simulations, and I couldn't blame them. A world perfectly catered to your desires is much better than the real one. Lost in thought, I tripped over a crack in the sidewalk, which had a small plant growing out of it. I landed on my elbow. I hadn't been outside, or felt any kind of real pain in a very long time, so this was a startling experience. I mean, the simulations had pain, but you could always tell it wasn't real, and it wasn't very intense. This, though, it stung really badly.\n\nBefore I could even blink, maintenance robots descended from the sky, patched up my elbow, and removed the crack in the sidewalk. It was like nothing ever happened. Of course, no one witnessed it, because no sane person would ever come outside when all they could ever need could be accessed with a thought.\n\nAfter walking around a bit more, I got bored of strolling the empty streets, and went back inside feeling a bit down. The world had moved into a new age, one of individual isolation. I needed a pick-me-up. Ah, yes, I could kill Hitler! That's always a fun simulation. I booted up the machine, connected all the wires, and everything went black. Usually it goes straight into the simulation, this is strange. This isn't completely abnormal, however, occasionally glitches happen when a wire isn't put in correctly, or when the machine can't get a signal. I try and exit the simulation to fix the problem, only to find myself in... Nazi Germany. I guess it finally got a signal after all. \n\nI was standing in a crowd, as always, and Hitler was screaming something in the angry voice that all Germans seem to have, but something was off. Actually, it wasn't off, and that was what bothered me. I had done this simulation hundreds of times, I had memorized almost every important nook and cranny, but this time, it felt... Clearer, somehow. Most of the time, it has an almost dreamlike quality, but this time, I felt like I was really there. The system must have updated while I was outside, technological advancement had been increasing at an exponential rate since the early 2000's. \n\nI go through my usual routine, find a high-ranked guard, wait until he's alone, and then I knock him out. The impact of my elbow on his skull felt much more real than usual. Almost like earlier when I tripped on the crack. Wow, they've really focused on realism with this update. I look at my elbow and there's a small trickle of blood flowing down. I drag the officer into an alley, put on his clothes, and set out on my mission. \n\nThe crowd is harder than usual to navigate through. People seem to be moving more. Strange, usually the system can't handle too many characters moving at once, but in this one, every person was shifting about unpredictably, with no drop in performance. In fact, there was no lag at all. This update must have finally addressed some performance issues on lower-end systems. \n\nI make my way up to the podium, and there he is, standing feet away from me. One of the worst murderers in recorded history, Adolf Hitler. Every time I play the simulation, I'm still a little awestruck by the historical importance of the person standing in front of me. I stand there for a second, taking it all in, then I move in for the kill. I casually walk up to the podium, as if to deliver a message. He doesn't notice, as usual, until I'm right behind him. But by then, it's too late. My knife is out, it's already around his throat by the time he realizes I'm there. He falls to the ground, the crowd goes silent, followed by the usual panic. The guards scramble towards his body, others try to find the killer, but he's long gone, as usual. \n\nSuddenly, everything goes black again, and I wake up in my house in the real world. I didn't even give it the command to end, it must have crashed. That new update is really unstable. I'll have to send a complaint in to the VR managers. I go to type the message, but... Wait, what was I complaining about? A simulation had trouble, but which one? I just came out of it, and I can't remember what it is. Strange. My memory must be going. I think there's a pill you can take to enhance your memory at the drug store, I'll have to drop by sometime. I notice pain in my elbow. I inspect it, and I see a small wound with dried blood leaving a trail down my arm. Where could that have come from? Simulations don't leave actual marks... This is all very strange. I call the maintenance robots to come fix it and, as usual, it's gone without a trace. To clear my mind, I boot up a simulation of Buddhist monks in ancient India, and meditate.\n\nWhat a strange day." ]	3
	[WP] During a routine consultation with your psychiatrist, he accidentally responds to a question from one of your 'hallucinations'. How do you respond?	[ " Another Tuesday, another visit to Susan Kemler, my psychiatrist. She swears up and down that we’re making progress, but I feel just as cold and empty as when I started seeing her last month.\n\n My “friends” followed me to the appointment, just like they always do. They started whispering in my ear five years ago about how I’m wrong and should just give up and let them control my body. They stopped whispering last year, and instead started to talk louder and more boldly about what they wanted me to do. I listened, just once, and I almost lost my job, my wife, my family, and my apartment. \n\n “But didn’t it feel good to let loose?” Jake would always hiss when I remembered that day, usually while licking blood off of his claws. I think I was the blood from my boss’s nose, but I was never sure.\n\n I collapse down on to the couch facing Dr. Kemler while the voices from my head start to wonder around the room in the forms of three young adults.\n\n “So how are you doing today Jason?” Susan asked in her overly pleasant way. \n\n “Well I survived the holidays, so I guess I’m ok. Mostly I just stayed in. I didn’t really feel like dealing with people” \n\n “That’s because we don’t deserve friends, and our family doesn’t love us.” Ben moaned from the floor where he was hugging his knees. I tried to ignore him. \n\n “Any more violent thoughts?”\n\n “No more than usual” \n\n “There was a baby screaming in the store yesterday. You should have silenced it.” snarled Jake \n\n Susan continued asking her questions, and I kept responding evasively, constantly afraid I was going to give away too much and need to be hauled off to the loony bin. At one point, I heard one of the voices in my head saying “That’s a beautiful dress. I wonder where she got it.”\n\n “Oh, well thank you, Lily. I actually got it at Goodwill” Dr. Kemler responded.\n\n “I’m sorry?” I said. I was pretty sure that I hadn’t mentioned her dress out loud, and I KNOW I haven’t told her the name of any of the voices in my head. “What did you get at Goodwill?”\n\n “My dress. Lily was asking where I got it. Didn’t you hear her?”\n\n “Yes, I did, but how did you?”\n\n “Well, she’s right there. “ Dr. Kemler pointed directly at the leather-clad woman that I thought only existed in my imagination. Lily winked and kissed the air in response.\n\n “You can see her?” Maybe I was crazier than I thought\n\n “I can see Ben and Jake too, “She said while pointing at the thin boy curled up on the floor and the shaggy man crouching in the corner while picking bugs out of his bread. “ And anyone else that you may be having an issue with.”\n\n “Why didn’t you say something sooner? I thought they were just wrapped parts of my psyche, or something like that.” \n\n “Oh, they are, but sometimes they can cross over into our world, especially if you start believing in their existence too much. Gives them more power you see. These three are pretty bad, but I’ve seen far worse.“ \n\n “But… What… Then… “ I started worrying about who else could see and hear them and whether or not I really was going mad. \n\n “Don’t worry dear; as we work through your issues, they’ll start to fade. Worst case, we’ll find them a new home.” As I sat there with my jaw hanging open, she turned toward Jake. “So tell me a bit about yourself dear. It’s not often I see a Fury as hairy as you.”", "I have a hard time opening up to people. My mother always said I should be more honest, while my father said there was a quiet honor in taking things with silence, perhaps that’s why I struggle with it. If I hit the gym more, I’d be described as the ‘strong and silent’ type. It’s not healthy. I know it’s not, perhaps that’s the biggest difference between me and my father: I know bottling up what I feel isn’t right. It’s not good for me, but like an addict trying to kick a bad habit, I don’t know how to structure my life around “sharing.” Perhaps that is the most frustrating element, in a life where I’ve been able to be successful at most everything, I have no idea where to start with feelings. Even the word makes me uncomfortable. Every time I mention it, I look over my shoulder, waiting for my childhood friend Joey Peplinsky to make some remark about me being a woman.\n\nThe fact that I’m sitting in an office, across from a psychiatrist is the 8th wonder of the world. I couldn’t share anything with girlfriends in years past, a flaw that became the catalyst for many breakups, and yet I’m talking to a complete stranger. Nay, I’m paying a complete stranger $100 an hour so I can share my feelings. I look down at my hands when I speak, but when I look up, I half expect to see Joey Peplinksy’s sneering face looking back at me.\n\n“Why don’t we talk about your childhood,” Dr. Randolph says. \n\nShe’s at least ten years older than me, pushing her forties and not aging all that well. Wrinkles frame her tired eyes, great rivets carved by sun or stress or simply age. A bluish shadow hangs beneath those eyes, eyebrows furrowed folding creases on her forehead. Her hair reminds me of an old broom and a dying fireplace. She’s not married, or at least doesn’t wear a ring to signify it.\n\n“What would you like to know?” I asked her.\n\n“Whatever you’d like to tell me.” \n\n“Well… I…” I looked down at my hands. “My mom and dad were good people, I guess.”\n\n“We’re not searching for problems, Blake,” she said from across the room. “We can simply talk.”\n\n“Ok… I guess… I guess I’m just not sure where to start.” I brought my gaze back to her, she met me with a small, but warm smile. Then I saw Joey, his head peered from around her, as if he’d been hiding. His face was wicked, teeth looked almost filed behind his Cheshire cat grin. The dichotomy between his sinister and her gracious look sent a zipper up my spine. Gooseflesh broke out over my body.\n\n“What’s the first thing you feel when I mention your childhood?” she asked. Joey mocked her, moving his mouth while she spoke then pouted and rubbed imaginary tears from his eyes.\t\n\n“I…” I started, and searched for my hands again. “Stafford elementary. Chocolate milk at lunch. Ms. Denning my fourth grade teacher. Figaro, my black and white cat named after the cat in Pinocchio. My parents bought an RV when I was 10 and we traveled. Joey.” The word stung when I said it. I’m not sure why I did. I wanted to start talking and keep talking, fearful that that part of me would take over and smother my voice. I had no idea what I was saying, but at least I was saying something.\n\n“Sounds wonderful.” She said easily, jotting something down on her notepad. “I don’t think I’ve ever got such a quick and succinct high light of someone’s life… Blake?” \n\nHer voice was distant. How did my hands get so dirty? I picked at the black ring beneath my finger nails. They looked old, my hands. When did they start to get so old?\n\n“Blake.” Dr. Randolph said, leaning forward in her chair.\n\n“Sorry, what was that? I checked out for a second.” I looked up, hoping to find her alone in the room, but Joey was still there. He leaned against the desk and picked at his nails with her letter opener.\n\n“I said, ‘who is Joey?’”\n\n“Just a friend of mine from when I was a kid.”\n\n“Were you two close?”\n\nI shot a glance at Joey leaning in the corner, he paused his ritual and looked at me incredulously, Cat got your tongue?\n\n“Yeah, very.”\n\n“Are you still close?”\n\nThe question took me off guard, mostly because I wasn’t sure how to answer it. Were we close? In a way, yeah. In most ways though, no.\n\n“No.” I said.\n\n“Something happen between you?”\n\nJoey shook his head from across the room, his index finger ran across the span of his throat in a threatening gesture. Eyes furious. No, desperate. Desperate as the day they had been the last I saw him. Pleading.\n\n“To him, yeah. He, uhh…” Why was I paying this person to listen? “He died when we were kids.” Joey’s look finally turned fury. My strong and silent companion was upset, it took every ounce of my self-control to keep from saying ‘sorry’ out loud.\n\n“What are you looking at, Blake?”\n\n“I’m sorry?”\n\n“I said, ‘what are you looking at, Blake.’ “\n\n“No one.”\n\n“No one?” \n\n\n“I mean, nothing.”\n\nShe searched me with her tired eyes. For the first time in our meetings I felt horribly uncomfortable, like my mother had found my internet search history or I’d been caught stealing alms for the poor. I felt filthy. Wretched. Had my hands always been so disgusting? I needed to wash them. A clawing animalistic part of me needed a sink. A starving man before a buffet would be less driven to quench his hunger; his desire. It felt wrong, I knew it was wrong. By the way Joey was looking at me with his dead eyes, I knew I had gone too far. I’m sorry, Joey. I’m sorry.\n\n“Is Joey in the room with us now, Blake?”\n\nI shot eyes from Joey to her, wide with fear. How did she know? \n\n“No… I just…” \n\nThe world would know I’m insane. I’m off my rocker. Cold sweat poured from my pits, I felt the world narrow. It was the beginning of the end for me. I’d be sent to an institution. Given drugs and have the emotional compass of sloth. All because I wanted to share my feelings.\n\n“Where is he,” she asked. Her expression completely normal, as if she wasn’t talking about an adult’s imaginary friend.\n\n“He’s behind you.” I said after a moment. Joey shot a fearful look my direction.\n\n“Ok, thank you.” She didn’t look back though. How could she not look back? “Here’s what I want you to do. It’s OK if he stays here, if you want him to but I need you to talk to me, OK? If he’s a distraction he’ll need to leave.”\n\n“I…” \n\n“Now, tell me,” she said, cutting me off. Another easy smile spread across her face, “where did you travel when your parents bought that RV?”\n", "It was when Dr Hinmer directly addressed Phyllis that I realised something wasn’t quite right.\n\t\n“Your hair is looking very… soft, Phyllis. Have you changed your shampoo?”\n\n“New conditioner.” Phyllis replied.\n\n“Ah, splendid.”\n\nI stammered in disbelief.\n\t\n“You can...”\n\n“See her? Yes.”\n\n“How is that possible?”\n\n“Well, you’ve described her to me so many times, how she looks, how she speaks, the fact that she follows you around. I just assumed she’d be here, for, you know, moral support.”\n\nI paused.\n\t\n“So, you can’t actually see her”.\n\n“I can see her as well as you can see her, and that’s what counts, right?”\n\nThe sarcastic prick. I stood up and punched him straight in the mouth; nobody takes the piss out of me. I sat back down as blood began to pour from his nose. My knuckles had a slight sting to them. He didn’t even flinch.\n\n“Are you keeping up on your medication?”\n\nI scrambled in my pockets to find the empty pillbox as proof. When I looked back up the blood on Hinmer’s nose had gone. Fuck. Another hallucination.\n\n“Yeah, sure…” I stammered.\n\n“You don’t seem certain. Let me look at the pills?”\n\nI passed him the now full pillbox.\n\n“You haven’t taken any! No wonder your episodes have got worse.”\n\n\"I could have sworn?”\n\n“Do you remember taking them?”\n\nI lied.\n\t\n“Yes.”\n\nHinmer leaned forward slightly.\n\n“Absolutely certain?”\n\nI lied again.\n\t\n“Yes. Yes I fucking remember. That must be a new box I accidently picked up.”\n\nHe turned to his desk and began writing something on a clipboard. I looked up at the clock on the wall. The time was 12:25; only five more minutes left of this shit. He turned back to face me.\n\n“And how is Phyllis? How many times a week is she visiting?”\n\n“Once every couple of days.”\n\nShe hadn’t left since last Tuesday, but I didn’t want him to give me any more pills to take.\n\t\n“Good, good.” He said, writing more information down onto the clipboard. He flipped the page he had been using over to reveal more blank boxes that needed filling.\n\n“So, are we going to finish at half past like normal?”\n\n“I should think so, if we can get this section done in the next couple of minutes.”\n\nI didn’t particularly want to over-run; I knew Phyllis would get impatient. That never ends well. I tried to make some small talk to avoid answering any more of the questions.\n\n“Have you got anything you’re doing after this?” I asked.\n\n“I’m working the rest of the day. Now, onto…”\n\n“It’s just I really need to catch my train at quarter too. I’ve got a big party I’m going to?”\n\n“Oh?”\n\n“Nothing serious, just something with a few friends.”\n\nHimner raised one eyebrow.\n\n“Real friends?”\n\nI looked away in embarrassment. He knew I didn’t have any real friends. I bent down and began to re-lace one of my shoes to avoid eye contact.\n\t\n“…Yeah, sure. Real friends. Jerry, Tony, Pete. Have I never ment…”\n\nI looked back up. Himner was gone. The room was empty. Suddenly, I could hear footsteps approaching the door. It swung open.\n\t\n“Sorry to keep you waiting Tim” said Dr Joseph. “I was just running a little late.”\n\nI looked up at the clock on the wall. The time was 12:00.\n\n--\n\nEDIT: Formatting\n\nLike my stuff and want to read more? For 2016 I've set myself the task of writing a short piece every day of the year, using r/writingprompts for help. You can follow my progress and read more content here: http://tamaxwell.tumblr.com/\n" ]	3
	[WP] The organization's top "assassin" secretly spares all of his targets; relocating and hiding them with the money earned from their bounty.	[ "Reg snuck up around the corner or the corridor, his footsteps silent and his breathing slow and in control. He pulled his silenced pistol and fired two rounds into the guard in front of him who instantly doubled over as they struck him in the stomach, driving the breath out. Reg’s third bullet hit directly in the forehead and the guard was out.\nNot dead mind you, Reg was using rubber bullets. Trained from the age of 10 Reg wasn’t your average guy, he knew various martial arts, basic biology, how to use firearms and had many other useful talents. As he snuck down the hallway he checked the guards pulse. He’d be fine, a cracked rib and a few bruises but nothing life threatening. Reg’s target “El Terminado” was arrogant, someone as high as he was in the gang world should have more than one guard but if enough people tell you how tough and amazing you are, eventually it goes to your head and leads to your downfall. \n\nReg came to the double doors and peaked through the keyhole, his target was sitting on the sofa watching porn, he hadn’t even heard the “THWAP, THWAP, THWAP” of the silenced pistol. He slowly turned the door knob and pushed open the door. “Good evening, sorry to ruin your ... fun but you have a bounty on your head. I’m here to collect”. Usually Reg didn’t talk to his targets, it wasn’t professional but this target in particular annoyed him, arrogant cocks weren’t worth all the planning and skill this sort of job takes. \n\nAs the fellow turned his head Reg suddenly realized that he had been the cocky one. The man sitting in front of him was not “El Terminado” It was Lance. Lance was a higher up in “The organization” and was the last person Reg expected to see here. “I’m sorry to disappoint you Reg but I’m not your target, we both know why I’m here though don’t we. You’ve lost the heart to kill haven’t you. Instead of killing your targets you’ve been taking them to a private island and imprisoning them. Well I’m here to tell you Reg, there’s been an escape”\n", "Jeffrey eyed the girl walking in front of him. If he wasn't working, he might have tried to get to know her more. He already knew more than he should, though. Her name was Felicity Connor. She was a 26 year old female, about 5'4 and 120 pounds. After getting an art history degree, she ended up working in the local art museum. Her parents died shortly after she graduated, but she quickly married a man almost twice her age, named Gary Connor.\n\nAll the organization told Jeffrey was that Felicity was the mark. The rest he found out on his own. His duty was simple: Take her out and wait for the next assignment. Jeffrey had his own methods though.\n\nAfter researching public records, social media, and following it up with some surveillance, Jeffrey came to the conclusion that Felicity's husband Gary was the client. Why he wanted to kill his wife, Jeffrey had no idea. Most likely, it was a divorce down the road with no prenup. It was always about money.\n\nJeffrey looked around to ensure the area was empty and then stepped up his pace. Before she could react, he grabbed her into an alleyway with his gun shoved at her back.\n\n\"Don't say anything,\" he whispered loudly. \"You can get out of this alive if you stay calm and listen.\"\n\n\"Wha- what's going on?\" she shrieked.\n\nJeffrey spun her around slowly and looked her in the eyes. \"I'm an assassin. You're the mark.\"\n\nFelicity looked down at the gun in Jeffrey's hand and then back up at him. \"You were saying something about getting out alive?\" she asked, questionably.\n\nJeffrey lowered his gun. \"Yes, Felicity,\" he started, tapping his jacket pocket, \"I have two envelopes for you. One is an airline ticket. The other is filled with enough cash to get started and begin a new life. Just say the word.\"\n\nAlmost immediately, Felicity reached out her hand and spoke up. \"Deal,\" she said.\n\nJeffrey pulled out two envelopes from his pocket, one much thicker than the other, and dropped them in Felicity's waiting hand. \"Never come back,\" he said.\n\nAfter a few minutes of looking into each other's eyes, Jeffrey turned around and began walking toward the sidewalk. A sudden gunshot echoed through the alley and he fell to the ground.\n\n\"And you call yourself an assassin,\" said Felicity as she walked passed his fallen body.", "The man with the glasses frowned, \"I don't understand, I haven't done anyth-\" His interlocutor cut him off with a sharp gesture. \n\n\"It matters not what you have or have not done Mr. Jung. My employer has made it perfectly clear that your existence in it's current capacity has become... superfluous.\"\n\nThe man in the suit reached out and tapped the manila folder containing the passport and the airline tickets.\n \n\"Again, your choice is simple. You may take my generous offer and disappear for good,\"\n\nHe traced the index finger of his other hand slowly along the trigger guard of the the black 9mm semi-automatic lying on the table before him.\n\n\"Or you will never draw another breath outside this room.\"\n\nThe man in the glasses turned to the window overlooking the Seattle skyline and ran his fingers across the contours of his receding hairline. He inhaled deeply and then blew out slowly between his teeth. \n\n\"What about Julia?\"\n\nThe man in the suit leaned back in his chair and steeped his hands before his chin, \"These details are well in hand. You may bring her along or leave her be, as you so choose.\"\n\n\"Can you at least tell me who the hell it was I pissed off bad enough to run me out of town?\"\n\nThe man in the suit raised an eyebrow. \"You are mistaken sir, this is MY offer. Were this contract given to another, you would have finished bleeding out on this fine white carpet hours ago.\"\n\nThe man with the glasses paled. \"You mean you're the ah, the Reluctant Headsman?\"\n\nThe man in the suit held his gaze. \"It is good that you are familiar. I find that a follow up is rarely required when the mark is fully acquainted with my... reputation.\"\n\nThe man with the glasses stared unseeing out the window for a long moment. \"I suppose I should take a look at those tickets.\"\n\nThe man in the suit finally smiled, \"Splendid.\"\n\n", "\"Wait... So what you're saying is you want the dude's head..?\"\n\"Yez,\" chimmed the massive Russian 'businessman', \" I vant de heed I display it as uhhh how sou say decoration to be proud ouf?\" \n\"Trophy-\"\n\"Yez dat! Now go do dis I vant my vife to see dis!\" \nThe Russian giants 'private and perfectly legal security team' walked into the back room, then came out with a large suitcase. I wasn't gonna let my reputation die in the dirt so I took it with a firm grip, and waltzed right out of there. Oh my god, I thought to myself, I'm actually gonna kill a man. \n\nKnock knock knock. No anwser. Knock knock knock. I heard footsteps approaching. Wait two sets of footsteps. I unsheathed my knife and hid it behind my back. The door slide open and standing in front of me was my target, and a much smaller mini target. Probably around eight years old. I stared at the tiny much younger target for a second, then realized why I was here and looked up at the actual target, \"we need to talk.\"\n\nSo I explained everything to the target. He completely understood as I'm sure there was a reason he was being targeted. He gave me a tedious thank you and then started ushering me out the door. But just as he was about to close the door on me, \"and uh one other tiny minor not really important at all detail he needs a head as a trophy.\" The guy froze. For a second I thought he was gonna have a heart attack, but then he looked up at me and smiled. \n\nSoooooo. That's how I ended up in the morgue with a disfigured male head. I mean at least I think it's male you can barely see the eyes? Anyway, I don't think it's too big a deal I mean you could totally charge me but did I really do anything that- \" \nThe cop slammed the door behind him. \n\n\nThis is my first writing prompt. Wrote it on my phone just for fun. Enjoy! ", "This was going to be a tricky one. Normally I would insist on working alone, but the ‘organization’ wants this job done in a particular way. One shot from long range, requiring a spotter who would also act to confirm the kill. I was set up on a rooftop about a kilometre from the target lying prone with my custom made Barrett .50 calibre. The president would not make his appearance for the next thirty minutes. It would give me time to think how I was going to pull this off, but also time to reflect on why I was even bothering.\n\nIt had started years ago when the ‘organization’ had given me a contract for the daughter of a rebel leader in Columbia. It wouldn’t be the first woman I had killed nor would it be the first innocent. I wouldn’t normally ask why the job had to be done (rule number one), but seeing as it was pertinent to the success of my mission they told me regardless. Somebody else had been sent to despatch her father and the ‘organization’ was worried that his daughter would simply take his place in the hierarchy of the rebel group. It had to be done at close range and it had to be linked to the rebel’s General Baruto. \n\nThe plan had come off simple enough. I had slipped into the rebel compound in the immediate aftermath of her father’s assassination, clothed in a stolen Lieutenants uniform of the 4th Brigade of General Baruto. In the confusion I approached the command tent, exchanged salutes with the sentries and strode in confidently. That’s when I first cast my eyes on the woman that had changed everything. \n\nShe was crying, obviously distraught at the death of her father. She turned towards me as I entered the tent and she locked eye contact with me and asked me who I was. I brought out the silenced pistol from under my thick military jacket and her eyes widened. She spoke softly through wracking sobs,\n\n“Do it you bastard. Kill me.” And for the first time, I couldn’t. \n\nI’d had to make quick adjustments to the plan. I brought my fingers to my lips and mouthed ‘friend’. I moved back to the sentries and put a slug in each of their heads. I dragged them into the tent and spun some bullshit story about them being hired to kill her. Fearing for your life will make you believe almost any lies, no matter how implausible. I told her that she needed to be brave and sliced open her arm with my knife, splashing both corpses with liberal amounts of her blood, before quickly bandaging the wound. I left my pistol in the hands of one of the dead men along with a prepared letter slipped into the man’s jacket explaining how the girl had to die to bring in a future for the ‘glorious revolution’. She dressed in her best military outfit and we slipped out the back of the tent, before walking confidently through the back gate. We were long gone by the time the alarm sounded. \n\nFinding a place for her hidden from the ‘organization’ was far more problematic that the actual act of her rescue. They had roots in all corners of the world and sources in most governments. I spent most of the bounty I had received for the assassination setting her up on in a small agricultural village in the Sultanate of Brunei after six weeks of intensive field craft and language instruction. I was quite certain she was still there, as I was still alive. \n\nThe next few years of my life had followed a similar pattern. The ‘organization’ would contact me for a job, I would accept then spend the next few weeks planning how the hell I was going to convince the target to come with me, and convince the ‘organization’ that I had done my job. They all largely followed a similar pattern. It turns out that people in positions of enough power to be considered as targets of assassination are exceedingly paranoid as is and more so of their own local rivals than of a shadowy agency they like-as-not, had never heard of before. It was simple enough to put them in a situation where they felt their lives were in danger, whisk them away and leave enough evidence that they were dead to satisfy the ‘organization’ who were happy with me not leaving any bodies to be investigated. \n\nI wasn’t even sure why I did it anymore. Not because I felt any compassion for these people certainly. Much as in the past, I treated the innocent in the same way as I treated the most hardened war criminal, whether I was whisking them away to Madagascar or putting a bullet in the back of their head. To be honest, I think it was the challenge that started me killing and the even greater challenge that stopped me.\n\nI heard the distant whine of a speaker that jolted me back to the present from my musings about the past. The President was about to speak. The radio crackled next to me in Russian telling me to adjust my shot to account for the strong Easterly-to-Westerly wind that would otherwise throw my shot off by ten plus metres. It was a waiting game now.\n\nThe president walked up the steps onto the platform and a lot of things happened all at once. The sound of a door being kicked in and the barking of dogs came over the radio as the police I had tipped off stormed the spotters building. I fired the rifle and the projectile quickly accelerated to eight hundred and fifty three metres per second. It struck the President in his centre mass not long after, but I didn’t stop to watch it. I was already halfway to the elevator. I had made sure that it was out of order this morning, stuck on basement level. I hooked myself up to a pulley that I had already attached to the thick steel cable that ran down the centre of the shaft. I pressed a button on the side of the pulley and the gears begin to spin, taking me directly down to the first floor, much faster than the stairs would have. I forced open the elevator doors and descended the last flight of stairs to the ground floor like a maniac, full of hysteria, all the while watching the first responders zip up the stairs opposite me. I walked out of the building before a proper perimeter could be formed and got into the black Audi I had rented under a false name, driving off slowly to avoid suspicion.\n\nA day later I stopped at a service station to grab a newspaper and saw exactly what I wanted to see. The headline of the state-run newspaper read ‘PRESIDENT ASSASSINATED!’. I chuckled as I thought of it. No doubt my target wished that would have been the case. I had fired not a bullet at him, but a dart filled with a certain mind-melting hallucinogen provided by an old friend in the CIA. No doubt he would spend the rest of his days being spoon fed in nappies like an infant. Such an image would never do for the party media, so of course they had simply pronounced him dead and sent him far from anyone’s prying eyes. It was the best I could have done under the circumstances. \n", "I am [Agent 47](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Agent_47).\n\n\"Agent 47. What's your real name?\" asked she after waking me up.\n\n\"Agent 47.\" I answered to the interrogator.\n\n\"What do you do for a living?\" \n\n\"I'm a postman.\"\n\nShe stared at my face for a while. And then she showed me a few photographs.\n\n\"Have you seen this guy? Vince Vardio, the designer? Porta Pril, the lead engineer? Phil Markman, the police chiefman?\"\n\n\"Yes, I do read the newspaper daily.\"\n\n\"More Fifty-three people have disappeared. After three days later, they are found dead. The reason of their death. Drug overdose.\"\n\n\"Why am I in this interrogation room?\"\n\n\"There was something similar in all these cases. The staff reported a bald guy with a tattoo on his head working with them. In all the cases, none of the staff was able to identify that person. And there was always some drunk naked guy found afterwards.\"\n\nI rubbed tattoo on the back of my head.\n\n\"You've got me. Sure. You got hold of me last night and now I am here. I slept at... around 1 AM. And now you wake me up at 4 AM and interrogate me. You could have done this later.\", I lied.\n\n\"We wanted information from you. You've proved me right. The faster it would happen, the better it would have been for me. My partner, Ricky, is going to be happy about this. We're going to be promoted. And it's not 4 AM. It's 9:44 AM.\" \n\nNow I had very crucial information. I knew it was 9:44 AM. I let out all information I could about my past for 16 minutes. I counted every minute that passed just like I did since 1 AM.\n\nIt was 11 AM. Now was time for action.\n\nI tried to grab her head with one hand but she blocked it. I quickly attempted to do it again with the other one and then quickly subdued her.\n\n[I've gotta go to poop and do homework. I'll post the next part here, in this thread. Sorry!] ", "I was off-target, but liked it, thought I'd share.\n\n It was my mother the first time. Then I made the mistake of trying to call her a bitch and letting her know I was not in fact rolled up in a rug at the bottom of the Allegheny River like \"the stupid stain on her prime years\" that I called my childhood. She tried again. Then my wife. And the next one. My boss. At this point I become the embodiment of defeat. It was numbing. He had me tucked into the back of his 2012 Ford Focus. It was uncomfortable, being smoshed between the front and back seats, but I knew I couldn't be seen alive.\n\n \"You okay?\" He asked. You would have thought I had could grow accustomed to this. You can't. It's impossible. \"Yeah. I mean, I guess.\" I replied. There was a long period of bumps and humming tires, staring at the now fading fabric on the car's interior. I had to ask who it was, who was trying to get me killed.\n\n He was reluctant. He hated this conversation. It seemed like he was at least courteous this time. \"I'm sorry these things, there's a degree of client-target relat...\" he started, as if reading a line from a prepared script. I cut him short, \"Fuck off, Drake. You told me before.\"\n\n \"Yeah, I thought the fourth time was a record. At least this time it was for money, not like your second wife. In fact, your spat with your mother is why I don't tell them anymore.\" he explained. It turns out there's a very small market of actual hit-men that can be found online in the right areas. You would assume more desperate assholes would be willing, but maybe they only like to seem tough. I had to correct him, \"That was my second 'first wife.' This last one was my third 'first wife.' Hopefully I can go more than two years before we do this again?\" He simply sighed in response.\n\n More time passed before he let me sit in the seat like a normal person. He really liked how I had a bag prepared for this. But after six times of having someone hire a hit-man to kill me, you just kinda learn how to disappear when necessary.", "I'm probably late but oh well.\n\n\n----\n\nDiana Summers' phone went off in the middle of the night. She picked it up and checked it to see a single text from her brother.\n\n\"We've got another one\"\n\nShe knew exactly what this meant, of course. And she was rather happy about it, since it meant she was getting another employee.\n\nYou see, Diana Summers is the head of a rather large international company, with a building in practically every country. She was considered one of the most successful businesswomen in history. People would show up out of nowhere to work for her.\n\nHer brother, on the other hand, had a much darker profession. He was a hitman, or at least he tried to be. After killing his first target he realized he didn't have the heart to do such a thing. Luckily, his sister always needed an extra hand or two.\n\nHe worked out a deal with her. He would fake the death of his targets and Diana would give them a new life as one of her employees in some far off corner of the world.\n\nDiana showed up at the safehouse to find a young man sitting in the middle of the room. He was staring at his wedding ring in absolute shock. Apparently his wife found someone else and needed him out of the way.\n\n\"So you're going to kill me then?\"\n\nDiana chuckled, \"no, but your wife will think you're dead. But we'll make you an offer. How does working for me under the name Michael Ericson sound?\"\n\nThe man nodded. It was certainly a preferable alternative to death.\n\nDiana's brother turned to her, \"where you sending this one?\"\n\n\"The New Zealand department seems I little understaffed. I'm sure he'll like it, it's close to Australia but I've heard it's a lot less deadly,\" Diana decided.\n\nShe added another mark to an unnamed file in her computer and smirked. Ninety-eight saved so far. There should be a celebration when they reached a hundred.", "Title: Mr. Boba \n\n\"We're onto you Mr. Boba Fett.\" \n\n\"I don't know what you're talking about Agent Daniels,\" said Mr. Boba. \n\n\"Oh I think you do,\" said Agent Daniels. He smiled slowly. \"You see, Agent Donnie has a few images you might like to see.\"\n\nThe interrogation room was only lit at the desk. It made their faces look ominously grotesque. Agent Daniels gestured to Agent Donnie standing behind his seat. Agent Donnie walked up with a picture. \n\n\"We know that you've been hiding people away all across California and the Pacific Northwest,\" said Agent Daniels. \n\n\"And making them,\" said Agent Donnie as he put down a picture of a delicious beverage with tapioca balls at the bottom. \"Work at your BUBBLE TEA HUTS.\" \n\n\"That's bullshit,\" said Mr. Boba. His panicked eyes looked this way and that, and at the doorknob. Then he looked back at the Agents. \"Agent Daniels you know that's bullshit, I would never do such a thing I always kill my targets and dispose of their remains.\"\n\n\"Dispose of their remains hmm,\" said Agent Daniels. He put his sunglasses on and picked up one of the many manila folders on the desk to get some other images. It was all ready dimly lit in there, so it made no sense for him to put on some sunglasses, but it made him look significantly cooler and more intimidating so he did it anyway. \"We have images from over thirty locations of your Bubble Tea Huts.\" \n\n\"Which we've since realized,\" said Agent Donnie, as he showed Mr. Boba his iPhone with some search results on it. \"We've since realized that BOBA MEANS BUBBLE TEA.\" \n\n\"You're reaching goddamnit,\" said Mr. Boba. He straightened out his suit jacket. \"You're reaching really hard right now.\" \n\nAgent Donnie rifled through some more Google Images with a sinister smile on his face, and he even looked at one like he was really craving it for a second, then he went back to being intimidating in the dark background once Agent Daniels told him to get the hell back over there. \n\n\"You look like a dumbass,\" whispered Agent Daniels, like he was ruining the interrogation. He straightened out his suit jacket as he set more images down. \n\nIt was over a hundred images of targets meant for previous assassinations. All of them happily working and selling smoothies and other delicious Asian beverages. \n\n\"Fuck,\" said Mr. Boba under his breath. He started to shake. The agents realized they had him now. \n\n\"Be honest now,\" said Agent Daniels. \n\nMr. Boba looked up at the ceiling and some tears fell. He decided to do just that. \n\n\"All right, fuck all right, the kof kof the truth is,\" said Mr. Boba. He was sweating profusely now. He knew nobody would believe what he was about to say, but he said it anyway. Honesty's the best policy. \"The truth is i was a bounty hunter in a previous universe. I wouldn't talk much back then, I got over my shyness when I came to Earth. But I fell into some weird ass pit that ended up being a portal to another dimensio-\"\n\n\"What the fuck is he talking about?\" said Agent Daniels to Agent Donnie. He just shrugged and kept listening. \n\n\"I didn't much like killing people,\" said Mr. Boba. \"So I'd just retrieve them for other people who would do with them as they pleased.\" \n\n\"Shit our best assassin just went insane,\" said Agent Daniels. \n\nThen moments later a wormhole opened up within the room. \n\nAn old ass Jedi came in and chopped both the Agents heads off. \n\n\"HOLY SHIT,\" said Mr. Boba. His chair flew against the wall he stood up so fast. \n\nThe Jedi lifted up his hood and reached his hand out. \n\n\"Hi,\" he said. He still sounded like the same old farmboy even though he looked so old. \"My name's Luke Skywalker I'm here to rescue you.\"", "Little Knife was a whip of a man that nobody on the street would look twice at, but nobody in this room could take their eyes off of him. The dingy little safehouse was silent as a crypt, and Little Knife had no doubt that the three men in the room were wondering if that's what it was about to become. An oil lamp in the middle of the table and the moonlight streaming through the windows were the only illumination. By it, Little Knife saw fear on two faces, and contempt on one.\n\n\"So?!\" Blue Dog barked. \"If you've business, let us hear it, Little Knife. I'll not wait on your pleasure.\" The big man's jowls were wrought with a frown.\n\n\"Quiet, you grand fool!\" Three Coins hissed. \"Don't antagonize him.\" The old man was scared out of his wits. He shot Little Knife a nervous glance.\n\nHe stared back, leaning against the far wall, opposite the table. He crossed his arms and said nothing.\n\nBlue Dog harrumphed. \"If he has murder on his mind, do you think anything the three of us say will sway him? If so, you're a far grander fool than I.\"\n\nSilverfish tried a smile, and met Little Knife's eyes. He was trembling all over. \"Whatever your intentions, knifeman, you have my thanks for sparing my-- sparing our lives.\" He swallowed. \"Whatever the case, I'm sure we can come to some equitable arrangement.\" His manic smile broadened. \"We're all men of reason! Surely we can--\"\n\n\"Keep your voice down,\" Little Knife said softly, his voice hardly above a whisper, but Silverfish shut his trap so hard that Little Knife heard his teeth click together. \"I've done my best to make us a safe haven here, but there are no guarantees in life. Take all of our partnerships with the Circle, for instance.\" Little Knife scanned the eyes of the three men. \"We were all promised brotherhood and friendship with the organization for life, and all of us were lied to. All of us were betrayed.\"\n\n\"What do you mean, us?\" Blue Dog asked. \"You're the Circle's right hand.\"\n\nLittle Knife was shaking his head. \"I'm a blade that has slit many throats, and there are those in the Circle that think that a tool like myself could be turned against them.\" He chuffed out a humorless laugh. \"They're more right than they know.\" \n\nThree Coins looked up at him with wide eyes. \"Please, Little Knife. Just tell us. What are you going to do?\"\n\n\"Not me,\" he said. \"We.\"", "The room was a gory mess, and even the most amateur private eye would be able to deduce it was a crime scene. White sheets turned an ugly red, a puddle of blood seeping through the mattress. A mirror on the other side of the room was shattered. Finger trails of blood were drawn on the wall, then on the floor to the bathroom. The blue, plastic shower curtain with yellow fish on it was on the floor, corner of it dipped in violence. Berry Peach, \"The Sweetener,\" and coincidentally the highest paid assassin in the continental United States, was lighting a cigarette in an untouched thousand dollar suit. His lighter clicked shut. \n\nA frail man - anorexic, actually - sat in a wooden chair across from Berry. Blood pooled around his bare feet, and meatless fingers grabbed nervous fistfuls of his baggy basketball shorts. He was looking at Buddy with wide eyes and he was violently shaking. Dirty blonde hair hung over his pale, unhealthy face, and bloodless lips quivered. \n\n\"Might have been a little overkill.\" Berry mumbled, cigarette dangling. He wasn't an exceptionally outstanding man. Of average height with a scar less face and brown eyes, the most outstanding thing about him was the insane situation he was in, and the shiny, seven hundred dollar shoes he was wearing. \n\n\"But you're -\" The anorexic started. \n\n\"Supposed to kill you, yes. Someone really wanted you dead to have to hire me,\" Berry whistled low. \"You really fucked up, Mr. Redfield. Investigative journalist, huh? There are two kinds of guys like you - hard to catch weasels, or people willing to die for the truth.\"\n\nRedfield shifted. \"People deserve to know the truth.\" \n\nBerry Peach leaned forward, placing his elbows on his knees. The chaotic room seemed to swirl around him. He cracked a smile. \"But not the people you're busting - we're going to lie. \n\nRedfield shook his head. Berry explained the situation before, even though he had to hold a gun to the journalists head to scare him into listening. He was just going through the motions - fake the murder, make it especially violent, smuggle out the target, then call up the clean up guys he knew. No one suspected a thing. Not the buyer, not the law, not even the clean up crew. \n\nBerry didn't actually have the stomach to murder. It wasn't in him, and the idea made him sick. He didn't understand how people could throw away a life - something priceless - for some dollar bills. Other hit men he ran across were disconnected from life, and had fully separated themselves from the deed they were doing. Berry wasn't like that, and his exuberance and life that he still had after two decades in the business dubbed him the nickname, \"The Sweetener.\" His name made it perfectly appropriate\n\nWhat Berry was good at was lying and faking a scene. Since day one, he had always smuggled out the targets. He knew a guy who could scramble up a fake identity, and Berry always paid in cash so he never asked questions about why the assassin needed them so often. Usually the targets were shipped off to remote places - island, usually. It was easy to get lost in Indonesia.\n\n\"Your new name is Lance Quik,\" Berry said, pulling out the information from a pocket in his suit. He presented it to Redfield. \"You're a hippie with an urge to travel the world and live off the earth and among strangers. You already look the part, kid.\" \n\n\"But the Congressman...\" \n\n\"You know what they say about politics, 'it is said to be the oldest profession in the world. I have learned that it bears a striking resemblance to the first.' I think Kennedy said that?\" \n\n\"Ronald Reagan.\" \n\nBerry shrugged, shaking the information. \"Whatever. Point is, that fat pig will get what is coming to him. They always do. Besides,\" He winked. \"I know a guy. Now take the information, Redfield, and live for another day.\" \n\nThere was a moment of pause in the journalists eyes. Berry understood it. What he was asking was extreme. Throw away your previous life and live out the rest in solitude and probably loneliness. Friends, family, work, lovers. All of it had to go. But with the good left behind, there was always a pile of bad too. They could find the pleasure of disappearing if they tried. Redfield looked around the bloodied room. \n\n\"C'mon, kid. Just take the ID. There's a black car waiting outside for you and a change of clothes. Just get to the airport, take the money, and head to Indonesia. Or this little setup,\" He waved around the room. \"This'll be your blood, not pigs blood.\" \n\nThat seemed to kick him into gear. Standing on emaciated legs, still clutching his basketball shorts, he slowly stepped over to Berry. He reached out and took the information in bony fingers. \n\n\"And the Congressman?\" He asked in a nervous voice. \n\nBerry put on a winning smile. \"Let me worry about that. Just get out of here.\"\n\nRedfield shuffled toward the door a little faster than he would have liked to admit. Hand on the doorknob, he mumbled a quiet \"Thank you.\" Then he was gone, and the door slowly swung back in on itself. Berry exhaled and leaned back in the chair. Convincing them was always the hardest part, but the violent set up wasn't just for show. It was a little bit of roleplaying. It gave them a good perspective of what could happen if they stayed. Berry pulled his phone out. \n\n\"Yeah, Clyde? Bare Bones Cleaning? It's Berry. I got a little bit of a mess. Stained my bed sheets.\" Smiling, he pulled out his dying cigarette and flicked it on the bloodied floor. It hissed on contact, and a thin line of smoke rose from the corpse. \n\nBerry \"The Sweetener\" Peach, crossed his legs and half an hour later got a call about taking out a rival mob boss. Business was booming; business was good.\n ", "I don’t understand why he did what he did but I know it was a mistake. He was supposed to kill them all and he didn’t. In fact, he’s a fool for it. We’re assassins: it’s our goddamn job. And now it has to be fixed. All because of him.\n\nVaughn Hylander is his name. Number one at our company. Not one day goes past without our boss mentioning how outstanding he is. ‘The targets simply disappear,’ they say. I guess that’s why he’s nicknamed as the Vaporiser… Well, he must have been ingenious and extended his outstanding skills to himself as now he seems to have evaporated, too. The star and legend that is Vaughn the Vaporiser has gone off our radar. \n\nNot without reason though. Yesterday someone in admin received a strange tip-off from an anonymous source. Shit hit the fan at the office: turns out that instead of giving his targets a bullet to the head (all three hundred and ninety-three of them) he’s been giving them a new identity (I repeat, all three hundred and ninety-three of them) and allowing them to escape, i.e. doing the exact opposite of what we’re meant to do. To make things worse, he’s been using the payments for the kills as funds to keep tabs these ‘victims’ of his. What a fool. One thing I know for sure is that I’ll never again in my career hear, ‘oh, Nicholas, have a look at the report from Vaughn’s latest hit’ or ’Vaughn may be able to give you a few tips’. Never again will any of us hear of him.\n\nI can’t let the weird satisfaction take over, though. We could all lose our lives over this. Hence all orders have been suspended and the entire team is out trying to fix this mess. Including me. I got the best task of them all. I’m going to his designated safe-house. Apparently he left one of his latest targets there, ready to be flown to South Africa the next day.\n\n\n\nBreaking in is easy enough. People think locks protect them, but truth is, it’s all bullshit. Buy the most expensive door you can and I’ll still get into your house without you hearing a thing. \n\nI find the woman sat in the lounge. She’s probably the most interesting thing amongst the painful minimalism of the safe-house... The expensive blouse... Jewellery all over... The strange bruise on her temple. Watching me carefully as I walk closer, she draws her legs up onto the sofa.\n\n‘Who are you? Are you from the firm?’ she sounds calmer than I expected her to.\n\nI pause. My gun grows heavy in the holster. ‘I’m from the firm.’\n\n‘Okay.’ She exhales in relief. ‘Sorry, Joe didn’t say anyone else would be coming, but… Is the flight sorted now? I heard there were some issues.’\n\n‘Joe?’\n\n‘Joe. He brought me here.’\n\n‘Right,’ I say, feigning understanding. ‘Sure.’\n\nSo, Vaughn the Vaporiser is a simple Joe now. I’m starting to feel curious. ‘Has he… shown you any documents yet?’ I ask blindly.\n\n‘I have the passport and all the bookings for the first few hotels. Do you need to see them?’ She almost gets up. She’s eager to do anything.\n\n‘No, that’s okay.’ For a while I pretend to survey the room. ‘He’s… a… nice guy, right?’\n\n‘He’s wonderful,’ she says. ‘I mean, what your people are doing is amazing. I’ve realised I need to get away. Who knows what would’ve happened if I stayed. Maybe my husband would’ve just killed me himself. Who knows.’\n\nI blink. ‘Ma’am…’\n\n‘It was a scary few hours though.’ She picks up the cup from the coffee table and sips. The gun is burning into my hip. ‘But yes, what you do is really… noble. You might never stop these criminals, these organisations. The way you infiltrate them is… yes, it’s really noble.’\n\nI stutter. I don’t know what to do. I don’t know, if I should say more words, or simply answer the gun’s calling.", "\"Is it going to hurt?\" the Senator asked. He was wincing just looking* at the machine.\n\n\"Yes,\" I answered. \"Quite a bit.\" So maybe my bedside manner could use some improvement; what am I, a medical droid? He was lucky that I didn't just shove him into the chamber and turn it to 'high.' More painful, but quicker. For an assassin droid, I can be pretty gentle sometimes. \n\n\"Do I have to?\" he whined. \"Just drop me on whatever Outer Rim planet is closest to your destination! I don't mind hiding. No one will ever see me!\" He took a nervous step backwards, even knowing there was nowhere to run inside the spaceship currently hurtling out of Coruscant's orbit.\n\n\"Yes, they will. Eventually, someone will discover you.\" They always do. I planted one of my hands on his back and shoved him inside anyway. Maybe he wasn't so lucky after all. Turning to the console, I selected his new appearance and falsified credentials. Just for the whining, I decided to make him a Neimoidian. That should be sufficient punishment. Maybe next time I had to save his life he'd be a little more gracious about it. If not, I'd stick him in a Hutt body. Bacta tanks bubbled and the organic synthesizer whirred to life with an electric hum, followed shortly by whimpers of pain as the memory transfer process began. \n\nFrom the bridge, the Comms console beeped to life. Lord Vader's holographic form appeared towering over me in static blue. His black eyes swept the room from behind his lifeless mask, no doubt searching for the Senator. \"Is the job completed?\" he rasped.\n\nI opened my mouth to reply when I was interrupted by a fresh scream of intense pain that erupted from inside the machine and echoed around the ship. \"Almost, your excellency. Just... negotiating over the remains of his bank accounts.\" Vader was willing to look the other way from such practices so long as the job was finished, and it explained the supposed torture. I created an internal reminder to empty the Senator's bank accounts just in case Vader did follow up. No loose ends.\n\nVader nodded. If he could have grinned, I imagine he would have. \"And I trust there were no complications? You were not seen?\"\n\n\"Of course not.\" Vader had a number of weapons at his disposal for ridding the Empire of rivals and undesirables. Countless bounty hunters and mercenaries, legions of storm troopers and squadrons of bombers, and of course his own deadly light saber. But when he needed a rival to disappear permanently without the least bit of suspicion of Imperial involvement, he called me. I didn't just make targets disappear: I ensured that no one would even look for them. Back in the Senator's plush chambers on Coruscant, an exact replica of his body was laying lifeless in his bed surrounded by enough glitterstim to kill a Bantha. His reputation for partaking was not exactly a closely guarded secret, and no one would investigate the tragedy much further.\n\n\"Very good,\" Vader said. \"Your payment will be transferred in the usual manner. I trust that you will ensure the proper disposal of the body once you've finished?\" A fresh scream from the Senator punctuated the question. \n\n\"Always,\" I answered him. The hologram snapped off again, leaving me alone in the ship. \n\nThe Senator re-emerged from the chamber a short while later, looking at his claws with what I imagine was a horrified expression. I'm no protocol droid, who I imagine are the only ones who'd even want to read a Nemoidian's expressions. \"What have you done to me?\" he croaked in that thick Nemoidian-accented version of Basic. \n\n\"Saved your life,\" I answered, returning to the ship's controls. \"Now get in the escape pod. The Star Destroyer patrolling the Atzerri system will scan me upon arrival and expect me to arrive with no life forms aboard. We're going to have to make a hyperspace transfer to the Rebellion cruiser in order to avoid detection.\"\n\nHe made a face that I can only assume was shock and terror. As previously mentioned, I have no knowledge of Nemoidian body language. \"Isn't that horribly dangerous?\"\n\nI shoved him into the pod, sealed the door, and prepared it for launch. \"You're going to want to stop asking questions that you don't really want the answer to, Senator.\"", "\"The contract was to make you suffer,\" I said. \"So suffer you shall.\" I slapped the bare flesh of my upper arm as hard as I could. \n\n\"Ouch!\" He said.\n\nI glared at him.\n\nWe stood together in the centre of the room. The phone - set to speaker - lay on the table next to us.\"Get up,\" I said to him, while scrawling on a whiteboard with a small pen. It read Want to get a pizza on the way to the airport?\n\nHe nodded, smiling.\n\n\"I said, get up!\" I slapped my arm again.\n\n\"Argh!\" He said.\n\nCome on! I mouthed. Make a fucking effort!\n\nHe gave me a what? look.\n\n\"This is from Mr. Trent,\" I said. Open handed, I belted him as hard as I could across the mouth.\n\nHe screamed and dropped to the floor.\n\nSorry, I mouthed, giving him the double-thumbs-up. \"And this is from his associates.\" I kicked him in the stomach. I pulled it a bit at the end - flying with broken ribs is a bitch - but he let out an urgh that had a real note of authenticity that I think Mr. Trent would appreciate. \n\n\"That's enough,\" the voice said over the speakerphone. \"Finish it.\"\n\nI cocked my gun and fired a muffled shot through a cushion into the floorboards. \"It's done,\" I said. \"I'll send you the photo. Have the rest of my money ready.\" \n\n\"Make sure they don't find the body.\"\n\n\"Don't worry,\" I said. \"They won't.\" Without another word, I hung up.\n\n\"The fuck?\" Eddie said accusingly. The look on his face was heartbreaking. He rubbed his cheek.\n\n\"What do you want from me, dude?\" I asked. \"You were shit back there. You literally said the word 'ouch'. Who does that? I've fake executed a lot of people in my career. I've fake killed children better at this than you.\" I offered him my hand.\n\nHe took it and let me haul him to his feet. \"Well you didn't have to do it so hard,\" he said sullenly.\n\n\"Oh, stop whining,\" I told him, not unkindly. \"This time tomorrow you'll be drinking mojitos on a beach with a pink cheek instead of explaining to St Peter why you embezzled a million dollars from a drug cartel.\"\n\nHe grabbed the fake blood off the table, handed it to me, and pulled at his clothes a bit. I splattered it on the floor from the wide-necked cylinder in one burst. Looked good. He stood close while I drew a black hole on his forehead with the marker pen. He lay down over the bullet hole on the floorboards. I artistically scattered a few feathers from the pillow around the place. \n\n\"Say cheese,\" I said, holding up the phone.\n\n\"Cheese,\" he said as I took the photo.\n\nI rolled my eyes and deleted the photo. \"Jesus, Figure of speech, you asshole. Say nothing. Look dead. Fuck, I hope for your sake you never have to do this without me.\"\n\n\"I have no plans to do this again,\" he said. \"My life of crime is over.\"\n\nI pulled him again and gave him a quick, comradely hug. \"I hope so, man,\" I said. \"'Cause you even look like you're going to get spotted, I do this for real. You got that?\"\n\nHe nodded sadly. \"Does that happen a lot?\" he asked.\n\nI mopped up the fake blood and threw the towel into a black trash bag. \"Less than you'd think. More than I'd like.\"\n\nA thought occured to him and his brightened instantly. I admired that. He was the most genial fake victim a fake assassin could hope for. \"How about that pizza?\" he asked.\n\nI took one last look around the room. \"Sure, dude,\" I said. \"I know a place.\"\n\nHe put his arm around me as we headed for the door. \"So how much was I worth?\"\n\n\"I told you I wasn't going to tell you.\"\n\nHe did an impatient little dance. \"Come on, please?\"\n\n\"No.\"\n\n\"Why not?\" He wheedled.\n\n\"Because you'll either get pissed off it wasn't enough or freaked out someone wants you dead that much. You're better off not knowing.\"\n\nHe seemed to accept it. \"Alright,\" he said. \"Can you at least tell me where I am? Like, in the scale of things?\"\n\n\"Above average,\" I said. \"It was a good score.\"\n\nHe smiled. Who'd want to kill a guy like this? \"Yesss!\" He said. \"I'm a fucking badass!\"" ]	14
	[WP] Give me an enemy any day, a friend knows where to stick the knife.	[ "He saw the streams of blood dyeing my shirt while I sat there, slowly slipping away. I saw that face more than a thousand times, but that day, I failed to recognize what he had become, the lengths he was willing to go, the relationship he was willing to cross.\n\nWith an unapologetic confidence he said, \"Remember when we were kids and you told me I could never tell a lie? Well, I sincerely hope you go out easy.\" With an exaggerated reach, he lifted the canvas duffle bags by my side and slung them over his shoulder. \n\nReaching in, he pulled out a stack of green and threw it by my feet. \"See, I gave you your share\" he said, as he walked out the vault. \n\nI sat there with the rage of ten Suns. I could only think of how I'll get back at him for this. In this life or the next. ", "The gathering around the table was straight out of a FEDS wet dream. Henry 'Miles' Salone sat there in the same tacky green suit he had chosen to wear a hundred times before. Always smiling and rocking back and forth in that chair that wasn't made for rocking, creaking, loudly. It made Terry Two Tongues nervous which was evident by his mutters, curses and menacing stares. Bobby 'Breakfast' Ganelli and Mikey Folds were exchanging the latest whos and whats at a whisper trying not to undermine the school teacher like ranting of Bam Bam Gary Frangione who had been into his cups since nine A.M and had just lost an easy two grand on a football match. The air was thick with smoke, laughter, anxiousness and yelling. Loud and half lit, the men talked and cracked jokes on one another in their thick accents as they waited for Juan to arrive. That's pronounced 'June' by the way, not 'Ja-wan' and he'd be the first to remind you of that with a slug from a .45 for your head and the comment 'Do I look fucking Mexican to you?' to comfort your soul to the other side.\n\nHe came through that heavy oak door like a laughing storm. His shirt was off and his hands bloody to the elbow. The meat cleaver still splattering the floor with small ruby droplets. The thick golden rings gleamed on his hands through the red and chunks of what could only assumed to be flesh. His thick black chest hair was glistening with sweat, breath smothered in liquor and veins bulging in his thick neck as if pulsing through inches of thick muscle. It was like watching a psychotic tank breathe, if tanks breathed, or were psychotic. All eyes were on him then and he said nor did nothing at first. He only stood there, breathing deeply and staring over them like a wolf loose on a playground.\n\nHe pointed and swayed the cleaver over and too each man. His voice more of a low growl, almost barely leaving his lips. His thick forearms maneuvering the weapon in the direction of each of them before slamming it into the center of the table unexpectedly. \n\n'The world's a fire boys!' he shouted, poking a meaty finger at each man in the air.\n\n'Ju-'\n\n'Shut up!'. He gave Frangione a cruel glare before recomposing himself. 'There are a lot of things to worry about when you're on top. And it ain't the jews, it ain't the fuckin niggers or wetbacks. It ain't even the mother fuckers from 6th street, Trevelli and his little girl dicked men who've been trying to squeeze in on me like we got the only fuckin cow on the farm. No, it's you fuckin guys. It's you.'\n\nJuan drew a deep breath before reaching into his pocket as if digging for something with complete disregard to the smearing crimson on his clothes. He pulled out a finger. Then another, then a toe and a necklace and then several teeth. He tossed them onto the table and eyed the men coolly as they drank and stared slack jawed.\n\n'I have it on good authority one of you talkin. Talkin to the wrong people.' Juan continued as he heaved out his chest and placed his hands on his hips. 'I don't like snitches. Narcs. Traitors. You know that. So even though I have it from the highest authority that one of you are it......' he nodded towards the dismembered parts that lay on the table like peanut shells at a bar, 'I got no god damn way of knowing which one of you crooked, waists of fucking life is the one trying to fuck me, like I fuck my old lady. So what am I to do? How, oh how, do I find out which one of you are my enemy? And one of you are my enemy.' Juan's eyes traced slowly over each man as if studying everything.\n\n'It you Miles?' Juan asked suddenly 'It you Mickey? You Bam Bam? How know what I fuckin hate? I fuckin hate not knowing what I want to fuckin know!' He slammed his fist onto the table causing all the drinks to shake or spill. 'You know how my father handled things. What would he do right now if he were me? What would he do with you? You remember what he use to always say right? \"Give me an enemy any day..\"'\n\nBAM BAM BAM BAMM BAMM BAM BAM BAM BAM BAM\n\nThe sound of the gun in the room was deafening, but Bobby Breakfast Ganelli didn't even seem to flinch as he unloaded the entirety of his pistol point blank into Juan's stomach and face. The smoke rolled about the hot metal like coiling serpents before vanishing into the air like the ghost of some long awaiting justice.\n\n'...a friend knows where to stick the knife.'\n\n" ]	2
	[WP]My mother was a demon, but my father was the real monster	[ "I'm slowly getting used to Father's study. It's still an uncomfortable room to be in, for sure, even with the light off as it is now. One wall houses bookcases full of law manuals and legal files, while the opposite wall houses countless antique tomes and relics. I can feel the power of the binding written word pressing all around me, threatening to trap me. But I have a purpose here. I must know what my father knows.\n\nThis is the fourth night in a row now that I've snuck into his study in the dead of night. Fortunately I've always been comfortable staying up at night--I can thank my heritage for that--so I've had no trouble waiting for the perfect moment to come downstairs after he goes to bed. Right now I sit cross-legged on the floor of the study, flashlight in hand. In my lap is a tome. It feels like the hundredth one I've pored over in these past few nights. On the ground to my right is my father's old digital camera, the screen of which displays its last photograph taken: our basement door, courtesy of me at around this same time four nights ago. An ornate magic circle in black ink covers much of the door, complete with scrawling scripts and secret sigils in all the right places to keep a demon from getting in or out. \n\nI haven't touched that door since I was three. I don't remember walking down the basement stairs towards it, but I remember it burned like a hot stove. I cried. My father scolded me even as he tended to me with ice. I had no business with what was behind the door. I was not to touch the door, ever. I was stupid to touch the door. I was stupid.\n\nI flip through the tome. Every time I see a diagram, I stop and consult the camera once again. No. It doesn't match. That sign over there in the top right corner isn't right. I flip further. I pass pages of text, but then I see another illustration. No, not this one; the script there is wrong. I turn page after page. My chest constricts as my eyes start to sting and then water. Not that I'm crying. I'm just frustrated, that's all. You would be too if you'd been at this for four nights and come up dry! I must get through that door.\n\nI can't do this. I need a break. I shove the book away and lean back to press my palms into my eyes. They come back wet. Ugh. I was not just crying. I should not cry. I must be strong. I must find a way through that door. But I'm frustrated, and frustration feels terrible.\n\nIt's risky to dawdle here, but I need a distraction. I need a moment to clear my head. I leave the flashlight on the ground so I can stand up and stretch. I wish I knew what all of these things on the bookshelf were. I suspect this vial here has holy water in it, or something with similar anti-demon properties. As such, I'd really rather not touch it. I'm not going to be stupid. I'm not stupid.\n\nSomething on the bookshelf catches my eye: a framed photograph. There are two people in the photograph, one in a tuxedo and the other in a white dress. The one in the tuxedo is obviously a younger version of my father. The one in the dress, with her sleek black hair and a golden yellow glint in her eye, can only be the human form of the mother I don't remember. Both of them are smiling. I touch the photograph before I realize I'm doing it. If only entering the world of a photograph were something I knew how to do. I've heard some demons can pull stunts like that. \n\nA bothersome thought hits me: why does my father keep this photograph? He does not love her. I know that. He has told me far more than I care to know about how he \"beat\" her, how he studied every demonic law known to man, how he found and exploited every loophole his oh-so-cunning mind could fathom. How he summoned her alone by name, repeatedly. How he kept her for hours, then days, then indefinitely. How he \"cheated\" his way out of any worthwhile payment for fame, fortune, or sexual favors. Did he, really? Or is he hundreds of souls in debt by now? He must be. Why else would he look so haggard for a man who isn't even forty years old yet?\n\nHe calls my mother \"that bitch.\" He says she dumped me on him. He says I'm pitiful and stupid and I should be grateful that he loves me. It's a father's job to love his son, after all, regardless of complications with the mother. The bitch. The demon he conquered.\n\nSomething wet falls from my eyes. They're burning again. I shake my head and go back to my spot on the floor. I should stop dawdling. I have work to do.\n\nI don't know how much time passes as I rifle through the tome, put it away, and pull out the next one. My jaw hurts after a while, making me realize that I've been clenching my teeth. I yawn and rub my jaw. Ouch. I'll try not to do that. I go back to work. More time passes. My jaw still hurts. I hiss as I pass the halfway point of the second tome. It has to be here somewhere. It has to be. It has to be!\n\nI have no idea how many of these magic circles I've been through by now, but I diligently check every symbol, every letter. They match. Wait...did I read that right? It takes a second for realization to wash over me. This circle matches the photograph perfectly. My heart leaps up into my throat. I flip to the start of this section of the book and start reading as fast as I can. Circle erasure. Yes! Oh, but I must consult an earlier section...no matter. I hold my finger in my place and flip backward to the specified page. I see, I see. I return to my page and keep reading. Nullification. Perfect, yes, perfect. I return the tome to its place on the shelf. I delete the photo from the camera and put it back in the drawer where I've been replacing it every night. I leave the study and make for the kitchen. Salt. Vinegar. Will vinegar work? Maybe dish soap. Oh, and rubber gloves. I can't forget those. I hope they will be good enough. I really hope.\n\nMy footsteps seem to echo in the dark as I descend the basement steps. My feet finally find solid ground, and I step forward to the forbidden door. I feel its power even from here, making the hair on the back of my neck prickle. I shake my head and set my teeth. I will do this. I can't back down now.\n\nI stoop down to drop the vinegar bottle, the dish soap bottle, and the salt shaker as quietly as I can without dropping the flashlight too. I wish I had three hands, or four. Or a tail. The salt shaker clacks on the ground and spills a bit. Oh well. I dab my rubber-gloved finger to the top of the vinegar bottle, step forward, take a deep breath, let it out, take another one, and press my finger to the door.\n\nIt's warm, but it does not burn. So far, so good. I drag it across the line of ink making the primary circle of the figure. My finger is hotter now. Uncomfortably hot. I pull away. Nothing has happened to the circle. I growl in my throat. I squat again and dab my finger on the top of the soap bottle, but after I stand and approach the door again, I have to bite my lip before I can get myself to try again. It's still hot. It burns! I yank away, but I see there: the ink has been smudged away. The circle is broken. The enchantment remains, and now comes the hard part. I'll have to set my flashlight down and hope I can still see well enough. I do so as I kneel. I shake more of the salt into a pile on the floor. I dip the first three fingers of each hand into the pile. Please stick, I beg of it. Some of the salt sticks. I don't know if it's enough. I stand, approach the circle, and press one finger against the door in each of the exact right places, making a pattern of six points of contact. They burn. They burn a lot. \"The rite has passed,\" I recite through clenched teeth, \"and the threat is gone.\" Holy hell my fingers hurt. They hurt they hurt they hurt! \"Let this place be untainted ground once moresoallmaywalkfreelyuponit!\"\n\nI feel something shatter. I stagger backwards. I gasp for breath. I look down at my hands to find the fingertips of the gloves burnt all the way through to my red fingertips. They smell like melted rubber. I peel the ruined gloves off my hands and try not to think about that lingering odor. Is the enchantment gone? I tiptoe to the door again, but I feel none of the oppressive force I sensed earlier. I tap the door. It is cool. I wrap one hand around the doorknob, turn it, and push the door open with a creak.\n\nThe scene I behold is lit by flickering candles. These candles are in specific places on the floor, or at least their flames are; much of the floor is a mess of dribbles of melted and re-solidified wax. He must have kept these flames going with replacement candles for years. I can't even wrap my mind around that. Underneath the melted wax pattern is a large magic circle, drawn on the concrete ground with chalk, and in the center of the circle, a figure kneels, looking down at its lap. Its skin tone, unlike mine, is a rich, properly demonic red. Horns far more glorious than my little stubs protrude from the figure's forehead. But its long black hair is not sleek and luxurious as I imagined, but matted. It wears a dingy tank top that I assume was once white. I can't tell what its lower body wears, but it must be something minimal, no more modest than a pair of underwear. Its wings are visible but folded tightly against its back. My chest stings as I take in every detail. This is a demon, my kin. A proud creature, a mighty beast. A beast that has been utterly broken.\n\nThe figure lifts its head and brings its weary gaze to meet mine. I confirm now that the figure is female. When our eyes meet, her face changes. Her eyes light up. I feel like mine do too. I know those eyes. Those eyes looked at me from my father's wedding photograph. Those eyes look at me from the bathroom mirror every morning.\n\n\"Jamie?\" she tries to say, but her voice comes out as a rasp. Her wings unfurl slightly from her back. \"Jamie, is that you?\"", "On my high school graduation day, the horns protruding from my head were the least of my worries. On any normal day, I could roll up to classes wearing a hat of some kind - the high school I went to allowed them. My tail got uncomfortable most days but that I could also easily hide by wrapping it around my waist and tucking it under my shirt. Luckily it was easy enough to high horns under a cap and the tail was free and easy in my robe. \n \nBeing half-demon isn't always easy, but I manage. Most of my friends and teachers already know - questions are usually asked when they see my yellowish eyes and slightly tinted skin. \n \nIn fact, all throughout elementary and middle schools, my mother the demon was the one who attended the parent-teacher conferences, helped me with my homework, and carted me to and from school. Granted, they were accomplished through demon magic and portals, but at least she tried. \n \nMy father, however, was another story. \n \nI honestly don't know why my mother divorced him. She's a demon, she enjoys random evil here and there. Yet she and my father just couldn't reconcile their differences. He was too evil for her. \n \nShe tried to keep me away from him during my childhood to keep me away from the crowd he hung out with. My childhood was spent in the deep circles of hell, playing hockey with frozen heads on the ice lake formed from Satan's massive wings beating or making mini volcanoes out of actual lava. I rarely saw my father except for an occasional outing here or there. He'd take me to boring conferences or try to get me to help him with his latest coding project. But I knew what he was up to when he'd ask me to help. \n \nAs I stood waiting for my name to be called, I saw him. He looked like any normal engineer: Uncombed hair, spectacles, plaid button-up shirt, khakis. He appeared clean but unshaven. He lit up when he saw my mother in the back, trying to keep her wings from hitting the man next to her. I saw him motion to her and her horror when she looked up and accidentally made eye contact. He started making his way toward her. \n \nMom, an eight-foot red beast, feigned delight but I could see her checking the exits. If she had wanted to, she could just open her wings and fly out the window, but she saw me staring slack-jawed and waved politely. \n \nMy name was called and I could hear my dad: \"Yeah! That's my kid! Woo!\" His deep voice boomed through the amphitheater. \n \nAfterward, I tried to sneak out with a few friends, but my mom, being the tall demon that she is, easily found me and told me to stop. I told my friends to go on without me. \n \nOne of them, Dave, decided to stay. \n \n\"Don't ask my father anything,\" I warned. \"Please. Just. Don't.\" \n \nWhen my parents approached me, my father pulled me into a hug. I tried to squirm out of it. \n \n\"I'm so proud of you,\" he said, tears in his eyes. \"You've grown up so fast! I love you so much.\" \n \nShit, shit, uh... Oh yeah: \"I love you, too, Dad.\" \n \n\"Maybe you, your mother, and I can go back to my office and-\" \n \n\"That's not happening,\" my mother said. The dejected look in his eyes almost made me want to acquiesce but then I remembered, and I shuddered. \n \nJust as the awkward silence began to force my father to leave, Dave opened his big mouth. \n \n\"Hey how'd you two meet?\" He pointed back and forth to my parents. \n \nDad brightened considerably. \"Well, it was back in the 90s when I worked for Microsoft. I was the engineer who came up with Clippy. But let me tell you about Clippy 2.0, because it's a pet project of mine that I've been working on ever since Clippy was dismantled...\" \n \nAnd just like that, my father consumed another poor soul. My mom and I watched in horror as Dad put an arm around Dave and led him away, to talk to him constantly about that damn paperclip. Dave was done for. I bowed my head slightly. \n \n\"So, sushi?\" Mom asked. \n \n\"Hell yeah,\" I said." ]	2

Subsets and Splits

No community queries yet

The top public SQL queries from the community will appear here once available.