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[WP] Upon death ones spirit is given the option to remain on Earth as a wandering spirit, be reincarnated, or enter the afterlife. But there is a little known fourth option. What is it?
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"\"Pick one,\" the Grim Reaper demanded hauntingly as he crouched over my body.\n\n\"Pick one what?\"\n\n\"Do you wish to roam this world as a spirit, be born anew, or join me in the afterlife?\n\nI remained silent as I thought. I had just unknowingly stepped in front of a car, now I was being given this ultimate choice.\n\n\"What if I refuse all the options?\" I asked.\n\nThe Grim Reaper backed away from me. \"There is a fourth option, but I recommend against it. I only introduce it when questioned.\"\n\nIntrigued, I questioned further, \"What is it?\"\n\n\"I cannot answer that. If you are to refuse the three options presented, you, by default, select the fourth. But you are not to know what this option entails until you have chosen.\"\n\nA risky choice. Not something that should be taken lightly. I didn't know which option to choose. I didn't wish to wander aimlessly for eternity as I watched the world around me progress. I didn't want to be reincarnated as my life was one filled with misery. The afterlife was somewhat appealing, but likely unfulfilling.\n\n\"You must choose now,\" his voice echoed.\n\nWith trepidation, I muttered, \"I'll choose the fourth.\"\n\nI was immediately yanked from my body. Normally, this would be a painful experience, but I was unquestionably, unequivocally dead. I was transported to a room full of doctors and nurses. I was able to move around freely without being seen. It appeared that they were assisting a woman in giving birth. Peaking around the one doctor's shoulder I was shocked with what I had seen. It was my mother. This was my birth. *For fuck's sake.*\n\nFive years have passed since that day and I'm still here. The fourth option you ask? Well, unfortunately, I get to watch myself live my life. All my triumphs. All my mistakes. Everything. Unable to change anything and always knowing what happens next, this was to be a grueling experience.\n\nToday was the first day of kindergarten for me. I wore my little Spiderman overalls that I still had in my closet when I died. I could see the excitement in my eyes as I entered the classroom. Immediately, another little boy ran up to me. He was so small and joyful.\n\n\"Hello, my name is James, what's your name?\" he asked in a friendly voice.\n\nJames was my best friend throughout my life. He was always there for me. The next years were some of the best years of my life. My life wasn't entirely miserable and James was a big reason for that.\n\nI miss James. ",
"\"And that's what's behind the three doors,\" he said. Liz looked at him, expectantly, which the angel picked up on. \"You just pick one and go on through, simple as that!\" He smiled and leaned on the podium in front of him, looking dreamily in her direction.\n\n\"What about the fourth door?\" Liz asked. He looked at his name tag. \"Geoff?\"\n\n\"What fourth door?\" He responded without showing any reaction on his face and Liz wasn't sure the question registered.\n\n\"That fourth door!\" Liz pointed to the end of the row where a small, square door stood. It lacked any ornitation like the others, and was held closed with a slide bolt. It reminded Liz office the crawl space access in her house when she was alive.\n\n\"Oh!\" The angel looked at the little door at the end and shrugged. \"I don't know, nobody's opened it since I started here.\" He leaned his head in his hand as he continued to stare at Liz.\n\n\"You... You don't know? Look, you better stop looking at me like that, I swear.\" Liz raised a fist, and the angel recovered quickly.\n\n\"Oh my goodness, I'm sorry,I didn't realize,\" he said. \"Please don't tell anyone I'll be in SO much trouble. Just, please, pick one of the doors and we can both put this behind us and move on with our post-death lives.\"\n\n\"Tell me what's behind the fourth door,\" Liz said, intent on finding out. She didn't like that this angel, person, being wasn't telling her. It made her suspicious. \"If you don't know,\" she said through her teeth, \"find out.\"\n\n\"Oooh, um, I have the training manual here. Maybe it says?\" He pulled a thick, red three-ring binder from the podium. The was a picture of a door on the front with the words \"Office of Recently Deceased Relations\" written underneath. Liz didn't recognize the language, and it made her oddly queasy that she could read it anyway.\n\nLiz smiled at him encouragingly. \"That looks promising,\" she said. She watched Geoff thumb through the pages.\n\n\"Ah-ha!\" he says at last.\n\n\"You found it?\"\n\n\"Yup. Here's the script I'm supposed to read when somebody shows up. Sure enough, the are lines for the fourth door on the next page. Huh.\"\n\nLiz rolled her eyes. \"And?\"\n\n\"Well...\" Geoff read. \"It says you get to re-live your life. You're sent pack in time to your birth to live as yourself again. A second chance.\"\n\n\"What?\" Liz was livid. \"But, I don't remember anything about my life! I don't know if it was good, if it was bad, anything. And, if I'm reborn, I won't remember the previous time I lived this life, right?\" Geoff shrugged. \"If I don't remember, how would I avoid my past mistakes, or fix anything? That's stupid!\"\n\n\"I guess that's why nobody takes that option,\" Geoff said. They stood quietly for a moment while Liz thought.\n\n\"Somebody made these doors, right? Made them do what they do?\" She rubbed her face in her hands.\n\n\"Yup,\" Geoff said.\n\n\"Then, whoever made these doors had a reason for making the fourth door.\"\n\nGeoff shrugged again, silently.\n\nThe moments passed quietly as Liz thought. Surely there was a reason, but it didn't make sense to her. But, more than that, she couldn't stop thinking about what Geoff said: nobody ever went through. Why would they?\n\nNobody knew.\n\n\"I'll do it,\" she said at last. \"I choose the fourth door.\"\n\n\"You do?\" Geoff watched as she strode over, knelt down, and slide the bolt open.\n\n\"Wait, how do I know I had a door like this in my house?\" She looked at Geoff, who shrugged yet again, looking more confused than ever.\n\n\"Oh well,\" she said. \"There must be a reason.\" She opened the door and crawled through."
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[WP] You wake up from a coma to find yourself 2 million years into the future, only to realise that the world outside is a harsh wasteland.
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"On the third floor of a condemned building in the Washington Heights neighborhood of Manhattan you put a needle in your arm. Inside the needle's bulb is black liquid, melted tar, heroin, a cheap high, five bucks a gram. You flash the bulb with a drop or two of your blood, it make no difference to the color just the time it takes for the drug to enter your system. \n\nYou depress the plunger. \n\nThe ashy elixir disappears into your body. Your perfectly evolved vessel. The one true thing you own.\n\nAt first you feel hot liquid then it spreads and you feel hot all over. Your heartbeat slows. Time stops. Your eyes droop closed. Life doesn't matter anymore. You float on warm empty clouds and all is nothing. You could ride this forever.\n\nAnd you die. \n\nIn the condemned apartment building the house-mother says, \"fuck that shit.\"\n\nSo your friends dump you on the street. \n\nA couple riding the wave of gentrification are the first people to not step over your corpse.\n\nThey call 911. \n\nA ambulance arrives. The EMTs aren't allowed to declare you dead so they drive you to the hospital. \n\nYou are saved by a young doctor from India. He isn't just doing his job. He has a special connection to the soul. He was meant to be a Jain monk. Without knowing what he is doing he accidentally locks your soul in life. \n\nYou cannot die. \n\nHe has never done this before. He will never do it again. He never knew he did do it until after his own soul left his body sixty years later. He didn't care then though, it was too late to care, death tends to take cares away.\n\nHe does visit you often and checks your chart and wonders, \"how are you alive, but also dead.\" He studies you. He writes papers about you that no one believes. \n\nHe violates your privacy for decades. \n\nYou dont care though.\n\nYou exist in an unknown blackness. A persistent void.\n\nYou are moved to the coma ward. Time passes. Your records are lost and recreated over and over again. You age. You are an old man. You become the old man that is just there. You are a withered vessel. You are pitied. There are no questions with answers. Your chest rises and falls. Your heart beats, but you are not dead, but there is nothing that can be done. Switches are pulled, cords are unplugged but you persist. \n\nYou survive centuries. \n\nYou survive millenniums.\n\nYou survive stars in distant parts of the galaxy going supernova. You survive the ort cloud being disrupted by unique gravitational events involving the rotation of the Milky Way which sends streams of icy rocks screaming towards the sun. \n\nAs those deep space chunks journey your way you continue by surviving hurricanes and earthquakes and volcanic eruptions. You are moved inland when the polar ice plug fails and the oceans rise.\n\nEventually you survive the calamity of the inevitable comet storm and the dust and ash clouds that gather in the atmosphere to eventually rain down.\n\nYou survive being buried by tons of earth.\n\nYou survive being forgotten. \n\nYou survive the wind eating the ground and eventually exposing your useless body.\n\nYou survive the sun swelling and pushing the planet off its axis causing it to float away from its Goldilock zone. The planet cools just enough to wipe out all life. \n\nIt is when the last protozoa dies you hear, \"Johnny wake up.\" \n\nThe request is from a singsongy voice, its the voice of your mother, of God, of potentially everything. You have no choice but to listen to it, so you do, you wake up to the black of your closed eyes. \n\nYou open your eyes and they part like long healed wounds.\n\nLike they weren't ever meant to open. The sound of snapping crusts and scabs is audible. Through cracked and broken eye lids you see the world, not with physical eyes, but with your soul. You part your mouth to scream, but it has also sealed. You tear at the leathery flesh with your knife lengths of brittle nail tipped fingers and peel your lips away, tearing the scab that is your mouth off, exposing the browned and rotten teeth hanging in thick papery gums. Once you free your jaw your mouth flops open useless because your tongue is a flat dried husk. Your throat is just hardened cartilage and sinew. In fact all of your muscles are atrophied jerky over fossilized bones. \n\nYou know you are because you can think and in thinking, are.\n\nBut you are the last. \n\nYou are the last in a brown dead world. \n\nYou are the last in a brown dead world billions of years away from being eaten by a a slowly expanding red sun. \n\nBut you are not alone. You have the universe and the universe has you.\n\n "
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[WP] VR Headsets are not used for looking into virtual realities, but alternate realities.
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"Watching.\n\nThere's a strange sort of hopelessness in that. Not that watching is necessarily a bad thing, if you happen to be a spy or a security guard or the Thing that stands at the foot of my bed every night as I try to sleep, but there's no point to watching when there's something terrible going on that you cannot help, a cause with no solution. A steady drop, down, faster, accelerating, into waters that are too far to be distinguished and too deep to give way.\n\nThe empty box still sits somewhere in the attic. Covered in dust, presumably, inside out. The thing that came inside it - a virtual reality headset, it was, spanking new and not even stolen, which was rare for Marian, especially on birthdays.\n\n\"You know what kind of a person throws away money on things that are being churned out a hundred a second from factories somewhere in China's shittiest towns, things rubbed over with so many filthy hands that never cared about it until it lost its value?\"\n\nI answered in the negative.\n\nShe told me, and handed me the box, a happy little gleam in her eyes. An innocent gleam, mind you. She was never the malicious sort, just a tad crazy, or maybe just bored. \n\n\"But I know how you feel about these things, love. Hope you have fun without the guilty conscience. I paid full price for this.\"\n\nWatching.\n\nAnd that's the point, isn't it? To watch. Watching the television, watching the news trickle in as you remember that there's nothing you can do about it. Watching, trapped within the skin that binds man as things happen which nobody cares about, trapped within the one thing that holds monopoly over everything we do; watching.\n\nI enjoyed it for a while. Not for the sake of watching virtual realities, but the feelings that it brought along with it, the savage, distilled realness, rawness to it all. It was almost as though the feelings were real.\n\nFear is the realest feeling, the only real one. That is what I felt, looking at the figures skulking around in the shadows, all of them speaking in the tongues of Almost and What If and Behind You. And for a while, I lied to myself, like how I lied to myself about how it mattered that Marian nicked trash from every other shop in town, or how it didn't matter that the people dead on BBC News were once real, or how the Things that I watched for a time were not animations at all. I told myself that as long as I watched, and only watched, it didn't matter. The VR Headset was simply well-made, that was all.\n\nWatching.\n\nThere comes a point in watching, however, when everything becomes inhumanly real, when it breathes and writhes and crawls on all fours like a demented Blind-Man's-Bluff player. Watching is only the beginning. There's a reason why having your child watch your domestic abuse is classed as child abuse. Because when the child begins to flinch at the sound of a raised voice, it's not called watching anymore. It's called feeling afraid.\n\nAnd when you've been watching the Things standing around behind your shoulder whether you're alone or in company, you begin to sense it. And you feel afraid too. I am afraid, now. Afraid of what I cannot unseen, what nobody cares about but me. Not even Marian. She's still crazy. I'm sane. But I'm afraid.\n\n\"My turn,\" the Thing seems to be saying as I remove the headset with bloodless hands. \"My turn to watch.\"\n"
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For clarification: your mind is being transported back to your own body, an hour prior to when you blinked, similar to the film _The Butterfly Effect_; however you don't snap back to the present afterward.
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[WP] Every time you blink, you find your mind transported one hour back in time. Find some way to get help before it's too early.
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"“For entering and defiling these sacred grounds you are cursed to watch your life flicker out of existence” said a booming voice.\n\n“Wha-”, *Blink.*\n\n“So if I follow this map I’ll find trea-”, *Blink.*\n\n“You have a surprise for me?”, *Blink.*\n\n“Ugh, I don’t want to get up t-”, *Blink.*\n\n10,000 blinks later.\n\n“Happy Birthday to-”. *Blink.*\n\n“It’s not really a surprise party if you te-”. *Blink.*\n\n“Great… It’s my birthday tod-”. *Blink.*\n\n100,000 blinks later.\n\n“Mommy! He won’t leave me alo-”. *Blink.*\n\n“I don’t want to get up for school tod-”, *Blink.*\n\n130,000 blinks later.\n\n“Wahh-”\n\nUnfortunately this curse was not planned out well in advance by the booming voice, and it had not realized that fetuses don’t start blinking in the womb until 28 weeks old. Thus, accidentally creating an endless loop at the fetuses first blink. Pondering the matter further, even if it was successful in eliminating the sinner with this curse. Wouldn’t the mother just have the child again? Would the new child now have the curse since the original disappeared? Too many questions for this booming voice to think about."
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[WP] The same structure is present in the background of every dream, but your dreams always end before you can reach it; one day, you make it in.
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"A cascade of whispers surrounded me in the darkness, growing ever louder and closer. My curiosity getting the better of me, my eyes snapped open to a green field, the whispers halted abruptly. \n\nThe field was rather empty, a dreamlike haze hung over it, though a clear tower stood in the middle of it.\n\nIt was always tall, blue, and never wavered in the fragility of the dream world. Omnipresent, always somewhere in the world, with its flat top and softly glowing spire. \n\nWhenever I saw it, the world around me became grounded, Anchoring my consciousness in the dream. The world became lucid. Thanks to it I had carried out many of my fantasies, indulged in unmatched pleasures and experienced what very few people could ever think to do. At the peak of that all, one goal stood out of reach.\n\nEnter the tower\n\nNo matter what I did, through either teleportation or flight, I woke up everytime I drew close to it. It was as it the controlling body of the dream didn't want me to enter, it drove me to near depression over my sudden relative powerlessness.\n\nAs I faced the ever-familliar tower, I gathered the entirety of my will, directing it to the simple goal of staying in the dream and entering the tower. I let out a roar of defiance and dashed forward in inhuman speeds, aiming for its great doors.\n\nAs I drew close the dream began to bleed away, I clasped my hands together and focused on the feeling as I ran, anchoring myself. I roared and pointed my shoulder forward, bursting through the tower doors and collapsing in the sudden pain.\n\nFocusing on the pain, I noticed the bleeding feeling had faded. I pushed myself up onto my feet and faced a small podium, a single slot for one's hand adorned its center. I walked forward and placed my hand on it, the floor below me rumbled, shooting upwards. \n\nWithin seconds, I emerged into a massive room, a lone figure sitting in one of the corners of the room. Her body was coated in blood and wounds and whispered a series of maddened words, describing something indescribable.\n\nI swore she was familliar, that I had seen her from somewhere before, though my memory was truly blank for her. I turned my attention away from the maddened dream character, facing the open roof.\n\nI willed myself up, floating to the peak of the tower, feeling the sunlight. I gazed out to the horizon, it had twisted itself when I entered the tower or some time after. It was almost of poetic beauty, I could see everything from up this tower, every dreamscape I had ever travelled to.\n\nI turned away from the sight and faced a thin spire in the center of the tower, a small dish at its top. I felt the dream start to end, I made my way to the top.\n\nA small podium stood at the peak of the dream, a book covered in patterns one can not describe lay atop it. My hands drifted to it, opening the strange tome, desiring its contents.\n\nAs the first page was revealed, I was surrounded by an abyssal void. As I read the book, I felt happiness, felt sadness, fear, courage, pleasure, pain. I saw nothing, yet I saw everything. Ancient, secret truths filled my mind, revealing to me the true mechanisms of the universe. \n\nI felt an ascension, a true elevation into godhood. I alone had been chosen to bring this knowledge to the world, to bring the world I know into its next childhood. At one moment, I gazed into the celestial void, the cosmos. One star shone greater than all others, one that I felt belonged to me. I reached for the star, clasping it, holding it close.\n\nI gazed up, feeling its warmth spreading through my body, embracing it. I was surrounded by everything... and then nothing...\n\nI turned the last page of the book, closing it. Clasping the book close to my bosom, I felt the world around me disappear, replaced by the familliar morning air.\n\nI opened my eyes to that ever familliar ceiling, smiling at my experience. I stared at the book laying on my desk, it was covered in paterns that no one could ever describe.",
"I lay in my bed unable to sleep once more. The dreams had taken a hold of me to the point where the real world seemed like the dreams, you could call it an obsession but I called it curiosity. We all know what that did to the cat. I sighed as I rolled to my side and gazed upon the sleeping pills, I had not given in to them yet. The moment I did was the moment I gave up on reality, that castle had become my bane.\n\nThe castle would always mock me from a distance, but at the same time it would call out for me. I did not care for the context of my dreams no more but only for the castle, it still took me a while before I realised that I was dreaming but every time I did I would set out for that castle. I could hear it calling my name in its silence, I pictured a dense fog surrounding it and dark shadows cast from nowhere would cover it giving a deep depressing monotone feeling every time I would gaze upon it. Sometimes I would dream up a patch of grass and lay on it and stare at it for hours, sometimes I had to pinch myself awake to remind myself it was not real.\n\nTonight was different, I could not sleep despite being awake for 3 days. I did not force myself to stay awake but my body did probably out of anticipation, like it was Christmas and im 10 years old. I decided to lay here and wait until my body gave up and fell asleep on its own, I hope the 10 mile jog I just did was enough to deprive it of energy. I heard a knock at the window.\n\n\"Lewis! Lewis!\" It was my mother's voice.\n\n\"Mum?\" I checked the clock, the numbers were readable but at the same time incomprehensible. She looked at me with at smile through the window \"what time is it?\"\n\n\"Come on, this way\" she told me without answering my question, I watched as she danced down my garden. I was outside now, watching her climb a tree although I did not question it. \"Come on! This way\" she called down to me. I began climbing the tree, a branch present wherever I put my hands and feet. The climb seemed to stretch on forever yet my house as close as it was when I left it. I finally reached my mum who was looking over at the horizon, I lived in a valley and the other side was always in view.\n\n\"Mum? What are you looking at?\" She vanished. Now I knew it was a dream, my mum had died 5 years. I looked to where she was looking, there it was... that castle. I willed myself closer to it and it appeared in front of me, I was stood in the front driveway which circled around a modest fountain. It never worked but today a droplet kept falling into the basin at the bottom of the fountain making a slight dripping noise. *Lewis* I looked up at the castles front door, it was 10 foot wide and 10 foot high with silver lining but built with wooden panels. I walked past the fountain, I had never made it this far before. *LEWIS* the castle shouted my name now but with no voice but I could hear it all the same. *How much time had passed in the real world? Five minutes? Five hours?* I crept up to the door to not spook myself into waking up, I couldnt wake up... not now. Eventually I reached the door, looking behind me the fountain was now sprouting three streams of water which sprinkled over into the basin. I turned back and knocked on the door as if I had no control over my own body.\n\nThe door opened on its own and I walked through, it lead into a hallway with an open wall showing a grand interior garden complete with numerous colorful flowers, although dimmed in the dim light of the unnatural shadows. \"May I help you?\" I turned in shock, an old man stood there with white hair and an old looking cane, he wore a suit like he was the castles Butler. \n\n\"Wh...who are you?\" I asked the old man. He smiled at me.\n\n\"Ah you must be Lewis, we get lots of visitors nowadays. Not like the old days\" he stared at the floor for a while then looked back up \"ah yes Lewis was it? Nice to meet you, I'm the Butler\" he stuck out his hand for me.\n\n",
"Long ago it had turned into an obsession, devouring my life into a wake-less existence. Long ago, I had begun my journey. Every day though I return unsuccessful.\n\n\nSometimes it appears in the fields at the back of the old house. A long black tower that spirals upwards to the pale blue. Sometimes it is there blended in a city of height and congestion. No matter where, it is always there.\n\n\nFor some time now I have known when I am dreaming. The tower's presence alerts me and I become lucid and I begin my quest. For months and for years I had tried to journey to that tower. For so long I had always come close, always failing.\n\n\nIt obsessed me. My life began to be taken over by it and the waking day felt unreal and useless. In this world, bounded by laws and reality, things follow a course of slow demise and decay. In the world of sleep, there is life. There is hope. I see the tower and it pulses with a muted, negative light. From the cornfields of home and from the mountains of dream, it calls me, challenges me to enter its door.\n\n\nEvery time I near it, I wake up. I had reached closed many times, but always awakening as the moment drawn. There would be a heavy feeling when I awake and a sadness that was long ago. I needed to get to it. I had to enter.\n\n\nInside the tower I could hear singing. From the path that enters, the sounds if sadness drifted to my ears. She was inside there, whoever she was. It seems as though I have known her my entire life. I have never met her though. And so I would hear her voice and know it was there I must go.\n\n\nThere was only one recourse then. There was only one solution. I made a big decision and I bought some pills in the wakeful world. In the dark of my room I stared at them and thought long and hard of what I must do.\n\n\n\"Do it,\" she said.\n\n\nIt was the first time I had ever heard her voice from the waking world. \n\n\n\"There is nothing for you hear.\"\n\n\nAnd yet she sounded so familiar.\n\n\n\"Come to me. Come see me now.\"\n\n\nAnd I took the pills. The world spun and darkened and I think it was then that the regret came and I began to sob and wish I had never done it. But it gets so hard to think back sometimes, and it is all a blur. \n\n\nI faded. I drifted off forever and I awoke naked near the old house in the fields. I don't know why my dreams always took me there, perhaps it was where I was happiest the most. But I looked up and saw the tower in the distance. It was my only salvation for I knew I would never wake up.\n\n\nI went to it, slowly at first, and then as fast as I could manage. I was lucid, I suppose, but I could not control this dream. This was not a dream anymore. I continued on as an insatiable hunger came and a striking thirst built. I continued for days and months and an eternity, but I never awoke, and finally I arrived.\n\n\nThe tower that had stricken me so and the song that had compelled my actions, was gone. Only a hobble remained, old stone and thatch, and I wandered in, an anxious, sad feeling emerging. There was darkness and the smell of hay and old cloth. Inside was bare and static but for the flickering shadows of myself and her. \n\n\nShe stared at the wall and away from me. She was old, ancient almost, and wore tattered rags. Her hair was grey and thin and as she turned she smiled with a wicked face.\n\n\n\"Finally you've come,\" she said. \"Finally you have done it.\"\n\n\n\"Why am I here?\" I asked.\n\n\nShe sat down on a barrel to the corner. \n\n\n\"Because I was lonely, and so were you.\"\n\n\nShe laughed to herself and motioned for me to sit.\n\n\n\"What do I do?\" I asked.\n\n\n\"Well, now you can sit here with me. You can keep me company.\"\n\n\n\"So, I just talk to you?\"\n\n\n\"For all eternity... But I don't feel much like talking.\"\n\n\nShe laughed again and was quiet. She stared at the wall and did not move. Though I could not explain, I knew I could never leave this place and go out into the wide expanse ever again. I sat there and tried to talk, but she would not answer. Occasionally she would laugh to herself like a mad woman, but it was always as if I was not there. I sat there in the dark and wondered at what I had done. "
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[WP] Millennia ago, in 2017, Satan and Jesus' names were swapped in all copies of the bible. You are Jesus, and you must save humanity as the evolution of texting has rendered them mute.
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"\"It is I, Jesus Christ, who has been designated to save you from the horrors and villainy of mankind!\", I texted everyone, as a mass message to the world.\nAnd so the device I had been using was attacked with numerous vibrations from all across the world.\n\"Lucifer Azrael! IT'S THE JESUS!\"\n\n\"AAAAAAAHHHHHH! Lucifer save us!\"\n\nHell's bells, I thought to myself. What have I just done? Why didn't I know about this? Wait, I did. I can recall a time when that notorious little boy named Jacob switched some names in the Holy Book.\n\n\"I'm just kidding guys, I'm new to christianity. Who is Lucifer Azrael? I need some more context. What are his physical features? How can I recognize him when he comes?\", I texted again. (Obviously I knew it was the devil that they worshipped, but they probably had devolved enough anyways to tell me his physical features, and besides, I needed a description of him in their eyes. I had a plan.)\n\n\"He's covered in fire.\"\n\n\"His skin is red.\"\n\n\"He has horns.\"\n\nThe usual. As I pulled out my costume from my robe, I began getting ready to take a picture.\n\nJesus of Nazareth has changed their name to Lucifer Azrael \n\"hey its me ur savior\""
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[WP] Tears in time/space are difficult to create, but lucky for you you've learned the secrets. Today is your first day as a crack dealer.
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"\"Alright, where does this one lead?\"\n\nI slid the hefty slab of concrete closer to me. It had the same patterns as the rest, but I built this one with some extra runes to send them back in time.\n\n\"This one? 17th century London; not sure of the exact date, because I smudged the marker while making it. \n\n\"Nah. Not my type of place. Out of curiosity, how much?\"\n\n\"Two million.\"\n\n\"Got anyhing I might be interested in?\"\n\n\"Well, I got this one; been waiting to use it myself.\" I grabbed one of granite, the power within creating a cyan crack in the middle. \"But for fifty million, i'll let you be the one who shoots Hitler in the bunker.\"\n\n\"What's the point of that? He dies at the same time as before, nothing changes, why not murder him earlier?\"\n\n\"You can't change history; you can only learn more about it.\" \n\n\"So?\"\n\n\"So, you can learn that you're the one who shot Hitler, and that you're the real hero here. The satisfaction of that; i'd pay fifty million myself if I hadn't killed other tyrants at the end of their lives already.\"\n\n\"That's pointless.\"\n\n\"Thought you might insist. Want me to custom build something for the present so you can actually make the future? It hasn't been written yet, so... interested?\"\n\n\"How much?\"\n\n\"Well, that depends on where you want to go and what you want to do with it.\"\n\nThere was a brief pause.\n\n\"Do you have anything that'll send me to Mars?\"\n\n\"Yes, been there a few times. The portal mechanism keeps you from contaminating Mars with your microbes, and provides breathable air, so no worries. It loses the appeal after a while, though.\"\n\n\"How about five million for it?\"\n\n\"Sounds reasonable. Want me to dump you next to a rover just to fuck with scientists?\"\n\n\"Sure.\""
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[WP] It's the future. Brain transplantation is old news. Terminal ill people switch bodies with prisoners on death row on a regular basis. You wake up in your new body and notice that something is totally wrong.
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"The nurse has such lovely green eyes, and her figure was to die for. Too bad her face was covered with a surgical mask. Had I been younger I would have made a pass at her, soon maybe. Her cold hands grasped my wrist taking my pulse. I couldn’t help myself imagining me grasping her as she begged and pleaded with me to stop. Women these days say they can take a little foreplay, but when it comes down to it their just weak pathetic things. The doctor came in surgical mask already covering his face. “Mr. Thompson we are ready to begin the procedure. I must ask you once more before we begin if you are sure you wish to go through with the transfer.” I grinned. Of course I was sure who wouldn’t want to trade in their old cancer ridden body for a sleek new model. I nodded to the doctor and uttered “ Of course doctor, I already paid for it so lets get this show on the road.” The doctor nodded back and left the room gesturing to the nurse to push me into the operating room. The procedure cost me a fortune though I had several. Not everyone could afford this procedure, but then we wouldn’t want the riff raff to live forever now would we. The only draw back was having to use the body of some low life on death row. Yes soon my mind would be transferred into a fresh new body, and I could rid myself of the old dying body. My vision grew hazy as the gurney was being pushed through the halls of the hospital. The nurse with the green eyes lean over looking down on me and said, “Nothing to worry about Mr. Thompson we started your anesthetic” I nodded quickly. I was surprised at myself, I felt a bit nervous. I suppose its not everyday you get a new body, so perhaps it natural to feel some last minute apprehension. The gurney bumped into something a door or wall, I’m not quite sure. I cant seem to focus. My head Screamed, and so was I apparently. A nurse came to my side quickly. “Its okay sir, this is perfectly natural you have gone through a traumatic event.” My head still pounding I could not help myself the pain. I needed something to make the pain stop. The nurse only tried to get me to lay back down, but that wasn’t going to help. I needed pain killers, why couldn’t she understand. Still screaming I tried to grab the nurse to get her to understand, I guess I moved too quickly my hand connected with her face and she hit the floor. Two more nurses rushed to my bed side. The male nurse quickly restraining me while the other fiddled with something by my bedside. The world became hazy again. That’s much better, see why couldn’t that first nurse had done that. I awoke again head now only a dull ache. A doctor approached my bedside and took a seat near me offering a glass of water. “Now you have some swelling on your frontal lobe, but nothing too bad considering. Take a few of these and see me back here in a week. You are free to go.” The doctor handed me a bottle of pills, and promptly left. Quite rude if you ask me. For what I’m paying this hospital you would think he could spare even a minute to ask me how I’m feeling or tell me about the procedure. Was he even the same doctor? A fat ugly nurse burst into the room looked over at me, and in an exasperated voice cried out “ Oh for heavens sake get up and get out, your not dying and the doctors dismissed you. We have a dozen more patients who need this bed, now go!” A bit startled and confused I clamored out of bed and made my way towards the door. The nurse didn’t so much as look at me. Once out the door I realized I was in the lower emergency ward. The ward for the god dammed poor. Oh I would have to have a word with the administrators of this hospital. The large nurse exited the room holding a pile of white sheets, running straight into me. She gasped, and yelled out, “ Oh for the last time get a move on and get out of my way!” Another nurse approached. I remember this nurse it was her green eyes, she still wore a surgical mask. “I’m sorry sir I will escort you out of the hospital.” “You and your staff will be hearing from my lawyers. To place me in the lower wards! I have crushed much more important people for far less!” I spat at the nurse. “We apologize for the inconvenience, however as you can see we are quit busy.” Head pounding again I didn’t have the patience to deal with this. Tomorrow after some rest I'll call Barry he’ll deal with this poor excuse for a hospital. Arriving at my penthouse I immediately went to the bathroom and popped a few pain pills to dull my head. Glancing in the mirror I saw a young man. A bit started by the man looking back at me I grinned. Oh to be young again. The pain dulling, I felt an itch on my right shoulder. I scratched at it, feeling an odd scar. Four bumps. The itch faded and I thought no more of it. It was time to break in this new body, or at least break in a little 20 something. Picking up my phone I dialed a number I knew so well. A few hours later the escort knocked on my door. I opened the door and smiled ear to ear. Her long dark hair and figure almost made me miss her piercing green eyes. What was it with the green eyes lately. I grabbed the woman not wanting to waist a moment, and stripped her. She did not protest, but she would soon enough. I awoke to the sound of a heavy fist pounding on the door. “OPEN UP!” more pounding. I felt cold, wet and slightly sticky. Sitting up I looked down at my hands and saw…red. Blood. What the hell? I looked about the room, it was covered in blood. I gasped and vomit rose into my throat. The hooker from the previous night lay at the foot of the bed covered in blood. The door flew open and three cops strode in guns in hand. “Put your hands on your head!” The ride to the police station was a blur my head pounding. What the hell happened? I was taken into a small room with two metal chairs, a metal table separating them. I was hand cuffed to the far chair, and a portly cop sat on the other chair facing me large vanilla folder in hand. “Mr. Jefferson you are in a world of trouble, though I doubt given your record you aren’t already aware.” Mr. Jefferson, who the hell was Mr. Jefferson? The name sounded familiar , but I’m not sure from where. “Mr. Jefferson I am hear to inform you that you are being charged with murder.” You will be provided with a lawyer who should be here shortly.” “ Now wait just a minute!” I spat at the officer. “ I am not this Jefferson fellow, I’m Daniel F. Thompson I own The J.F. Thompson corporation! I will not be treated this way! I just had a mind transfer officer. I…” The officer cut me off “Mr. Jefferson, I am aware or your record you have tried this defense previously. Four times in fact.” At that moment the doctor from my surgery walked into the room. “Sorry I am late officer, This is Mr Jefferson?” The officer nodded. “Good I will need a moment alone with him.” The officer got up quickly and left. I yelled out to the officer, “Sir this man did the surgery he can back-up my story!” The officer just left without a word. The doctor sat down in the chair facing me, a smile spread across his face. “Mr. Thompson…or I should say Mr. Jefferson since Mr. Thompson is no longer with us. His mind transfer candidate escaped before he could have the procedure.” The smile grew on the doctors face. “Your confused I know. You see you were a terrible man and terrible men don’t deserve to live forever. I’m going to let you in on a little secret. We framed you. My partner and I have gotten quite good at this. Sure the first time was a bit messy, but the next three went much more smoothly. I suspect this one to go so much faster. You see Mr. Jefferson you have killed several people in your life time or so your record would indicate. I am afraid I must go now Mr. Jefferson a lot of paper work to do a confession to submit. Glad you are willing to make the courts life easy by the way.” I went numb. How did this happen no it couldn’t be right. This was wrong , a dream, or something.” The next few days were a flurry of prison transfers, I was thrown from cell to cell, prison to prison, and then finally a padded room. No matter how much I protested screaming that they had it wrong, nothing seemed to work. The doctor walked into my cell a few days later accompanied by a familiar looking woman with deep red hair. The doctor sat down next to me. You have been deemed insane, and the court agrees you are a danger to your fellow man. The court did however put you back on the mind transfer list. I guess this means we will be seeing each other again, well not you exactly”. At this the man grabbed me shoved me to the floor. The woman quickly pulled down my shirt and pulled out a small scalpel. She looked at me and cut slowly across the four marks on my back. Her deep green eyes smiling back at me as she whispered “Number five.”\n",
"Two beds stood in the recovery room. One of them was fitted with retainers and two guards were sitting left and right of it. The one on the left was reading a mag about mobile phones. He was bored and just flipped through the pages on the search for something interesting. The other guard looked at the person in the bed.\n\"Can you believe the level of irony here?\"\n\"Mmmh?\" The other guard mumbled.\n\"I mean look at this body. It is basically useless. No legs. Only half an arm. No eyes, no teeth, no tongue. I really don't know why we are sitting here.\"\nThe first guard put the mag on the table, giving up finding anything worthy to read: \"Yeah, I know. I really doubt that she will escape.\" He took his iphone out of his pocket and checked the time. \"One hour already.\" He looked up and caught the attention of the nurse that was busy looking at the other patient: \"Are you sure she isn't already awake?\". The nurse sighed. \"This one is waking up now.\" She came over to the guards and looked at the crippled body. She touched its throat and looked at her watch: \"She should wake up any minute now. Will you bring her back to her cell?\".\nThe guard without the cell phone shook his head: \"No. She stays in the hospital until the execution tomorrow. This cripple can not be left alone and in this body she is not considered a threat anymore.\"\n\"They should have killed her on the table, if you ask me.\" said the guard with the phone. \"Putting a brain in that thing; just to kill it the next day\"\n\"That's what I meant with irony: Putting her in the body of her victim. That's comedy gold. I would let her live the rest of her miserable life\"\n\nJeniffer woke up.\nShe heard voices talking softly.\nShe felt the warm blanket on her body.\nShe tried to remember where she was.\nThe words: \"I will now slowly count to ten. One ...\" echoed through her mind.\nRight. She was in the hospital. She got the brain transplant. She moved her arm. It took her by suprise how heavy it was. \n\"Am I restrained?\", she thought. \nThen she understood: It was a complete arm. She tried to spread her fingers. She felt her fingers moving over the warm fabric of the bed. She moved her other arm, her legs. She felt with her tongue in her mouth. She tasted something like medicine in her mouth. The teeth felt strange. They seemed so big. She remembered that somebody, her doctor?, told her that the tongue is a very sensitive organ and that her new teeth will feel wrong, but that is common and would go away very fast. Like when you visit a dentist and a tooth is different after the visit.\nShe opened her eyes.\nAnd after three long years in the dark she could see again.\n\nTwo weeks later she opened the doors of her apartment. It was dark and cold and the first thing she did was open all the curtains and turned up the heaters. She barely look at the mail that piled behind the door. It took two weeks of rehab to get used to the new body and now it was as if it had always been hers. Her old body was already executioned and SHE was dead. She smiled.\nShe went to the bathroom and looked in the mirror. She opened a drawer and took a scalpel out.\n\nShe looked at her torturers face with cold eyes: \"Now we're alone, bitch.\"",
"You're on death row and the clock is ticking. You have 5 minutes left to dwell about what you did to that man. Your life will be taken from you but your body shall stay and be given to someone else. Uniforms hold your resistant body to the bed, strapping you in. They put a mask over your mouth, forcing you to inhale the fatal toxins that will kill you but keep your body from decomposing.\nSnippets of your life flash before your eyes before you black out.\n\n*\"It's an honour to be welcoming you back, Timmy. I'm also pleased to announce that the surgery was successful. Your new body is fully functional, too.\"*\n\nYou get a glimpse of the room with blurred vision. You aren't strapped into your bed anymore. Beside you stands flowers on the cabinet and pictures of unfamiliar faces.\n\n*\"Timmy?\"* \n\nYou aren't Timmy, you're supposed to be dead. ",
"They had specifically told me that patients were not allowed to meet their donors. It could cause a permanent separation between mind and body after the procedure, having met the person who previously inhabited it. They said that when I looked in the mirror, instead of coming to terms with the fact that I was seeing my new self, I would always perceive the woman of origin.\n\nI wish I hadn’t ignored their advice.\n\n----\n\n“You can sit up. Slowly, now.” Nerves sent information to my brain, explaining that a hand was being placed on the shoulder blade, coaxing me to sit up. The effort of moving into an upright position had altered. Even sitting down I had to find a sort of balance of where to hold the weight that I was now carrying. I put too much force into moving upright and erected too fast, almost touching my toes.\n\n“Slowly, slowly.” The nurse cooed, her hands on the shoulders, still pressing nerve stimuli into my brain.\n\nThe muscles around the mouth felt stiff and tight, turned downward into a frown as I forced what felt like swollen lips into shapes to form sounds. “How did it go?” The tongue felt too big, pushing up against teeth. My words were inconcise, drawn out and malformed. It felt like I was drunk. Every movement had to be specifically thought about and recalculated. There was a miniscule delay in what I wanted to do and then how the body followed me. There was some strange pressure pushing at me from every direction inward.\n\n“Everything went smoothly. Dr. Reyon will be in in a moment to test your reflexes.”\n\nDr. Reyon gave me a clean bill of health and sent me home the next day. He explained that adjusting would take some considerable time, but that as long as I maintained my weekly mental health check-ups everything would align and I would feel like a brand new woman.\n\nAs I stepped outside, I was floored by the color of the sky. It was as if the spectrum had re-aligned. The blue of the sky was different hue, as was everything around me. My boyfriend took my hand.\n\n“How does it look?” he asked, watching the reactions of the face I was now wearing.\n\n“The same… but different. I don’t know how to describe it. They’re all the same colors… but they look different.” I had gotten better at the annunciation of my words, but my lips still felt like what I imagined Kylie Jenner Lip Challenge ontakers felt like after butchering their faces.\n\n“Come on, I’ll drive.” He pulled me to the parking lot. My eyes were still glued to the clouds passing across the sky.\n\nWe had taken all the mirrors down in our apartment at suggestion of the psychiatrist. He explained it was more important to first feel like myself before I started grasping my new identity visually. When I caught glimpses of myself in the microwave oven door, or a reflection in the window, I would quickly turn away. If I inadvertently caught my own eye, there was a residual shock in my core similar to the feeling of watching someone in a video get seriously injured. Those eyes looking back haunted me.\n\nThe first time my boyfriend and I made love after the switch was disconcerting. I found that our favorite routines lacked the same feeling. My body responded differently to his, and we stopped in the middle, frustrated and hurt. I had this unbearably insane notion that he was cheating on me…. With me. No matter how ridiculous I knew it was… I couldn’t rid myself of the feeling. I knew what he wanted, and his body was still the same I had come to love, but he had to learn an entirely new experience being with me and I tortured myself with the thought that he enjoyed it. That he liked the new body better than the last. Did I want him to?\n\nWhen it came time to replace the mirrors and start to embrace my body visually, that’s when things started to go wrong. I started having conversations with my reflection. It started with me talking to myself, to prove that it was still me inside this body. But it quickly evolved into something else.\n\nResponses start coming to me that didn’t feel like me. Instead of being able to claim ideas, to track their origin, they seemed to spawn from somewhere else and drop inside my brain, fully developed. I would suddenly, inadvertently and absolutely know things I hadn’t known before. I started to have blackout periods.\n\nMy boyfriend became worried, understandably considering I couldn’t remember our last conversation. I couldn’t remember going to work the day before. I couldn’t remember the last time we’d had sex. \n\nWhen I talked to my psychiatrist about this, he barely seemed concerned. He said that I was still adjusting and that in time, my blackouts would diminish until they were nothing. So I continued following his advice and confronting myself in the mirror.\n\nWhen I first saw it, the sign was inconspicuous, almost hidden. I think that’s what was drawing me to it. After walking by it the first few times, and it still drawing me in, I gave in. It simply said “SEER” in bold, Impact style font. The white paint underneath the red lettering didn’t seem to have dried before being painted on. Parts of the letters seemed almost foggy.\n\nThe air inside was stale, infused with incense. The lady sitting at the front desk looked me up and down for a long moment without saying a word. \n\n“Hi. I-“ But she silenced me when her dead cold stare flew up to meet my gaze. She walked over to me, grabbed my hand and pulled me into the back room where hundreds of candles had already been lit. She had a lot of strength for someone so small and frail. She pulled on my shoulders to force me into a sitting position at one end of the table. She sat herself across from me and pulled her feet up so she was sitting cross legged. She still had not said a word when she closed her eyes and started a weird combination of humming and chanting, waving her body back and forth.\n\nI was beginning to feel uncomfortable, shifting in my chair, wondering if I should leave. She hadn’t asked me why I was there. I had never done this before, but I felt like this was odd.\n\nWhen she opened her eyes and looked at me, she had a mixture of fear and curiosity written on her face. “Your soul is dead.”\n\n“Excuse me?” I asked, incredulous.\n\n“The soul in that body does not belong to you. Who are you?”\n\n“What do you mean my soul is dead? I am me. How can I be here without my soul?” \n\n“Your soul was separated from you. It now dwells in the otherworld with the other souls that have passed on from this place.” She cocked her head at me. “Have you practiced Black Magic?” she inquired.\n\n“No, I needed a body transplant. I am me, this is just my new body!” I had begun breathing heavily. She was now looking at me with sadness. I couldn’t take it. She was scaring me. I stood up, but her gnarled hand snatched my forearm as I turned to leave.\n\n“Our souls are not confined to this time and place. If you move your ‘self’, and there is no place for your soul to follow, it passes on. Your soul is in the otherworld, waiting for you.” She released my hand then, and I tore out of the place.\n\nWhat she said stuck with me for weeks. Where, after all, is the line between physical self and soul?\n\nRight now I am looking down at his body. My boyfriends body. The mail opener had been sitting on the end table a moment ago. Now I watched as blood seeped between flesh and its edges, pouring onto the sheets and my hands. I looked up and could see her face in the reflection of the frame above the bed. It was her face, not mine.\n\nSomewhere in the back of my head I heard the maniacal laughter of the woman I had gone to meet on death row. The woman whose soul refused to leave her body. The woman whose body I now resided in. The cold metal of the prison walls reflected in the peripherals of my vision and in front of me I could almost see her screaming, leaning toward me.\n\n“I killed the cheating bastard! I’D DO IT AGAIN.”\n",
"I blinked. Twice. Vision blurry. Something was wrong. It wasn't the gun to my head and the doctor's trembling hand. There was something else. I just...\n\n*Security question?* There had been a few incidents before, where the brains were meant to be swapped but accidentally got put back in the original owner's body. Being my first time 'going over', I knew there would be a security question. It just didn't make sense to... be strapped down in bed with a shaking doctor holding a gun to my head.\n\nMy mouth opened but the words were garbled. \"Sek'witty qus'shun?\"\n\nStrange. But expected. When you transfer the brain, nothing else comes with it. And your brain is specific to your body. Even my eyes were jittery and unfocused. Still, something was familiar about it, I just couldn't quite put my finger on it. Not yet.\n\n\"Name?\" The doctor demanded, a booming voice sending me reeling and my ears screeching in pain. My heart leapt to pounding. I writhed against the restraints and yelped out. In that moment of fear and panic, ears burning, he pulled back and my vision flashed into focus. Just a second, but I could see his dipped lips, his hilly brows and contorted features. Not enough to pin down worry, fear, anger or anything. Just negativity.\n\n\"Afiz! Azish Awom!\" I cried, my tongue flapping about as if blowing a raspberry. My mind clicked. When I was ill, I couldn't hear. And my voice, if I wasn't mistaken was a raspy whisper to him. At best. \n\n\"Akes Umwum!\" I screamed at the top of my lungs, causing him to step back and visibly twitch despite my pulsating vision. I grit my teeth, lungs burning in pain. It was as if I hadn't even left a lung cancer ridden body.\n\nI heard the hammer being thumbed and wailed. His hands shook. What did I do? Was the death row inmate a mentally ill person? My lungs burned, but I did my damndest to signify pain and innocence. \"Insunt! Insunt!\"\n\nHe pushed the barrel to my skull. I shut up.\n\n\"I know you're innocent,\" he thundered, \"I know, I know, I...\" \n\nHis voice was... cracking?\n\nThe cool metal left my head and blew a hole in the floor by the sounds of it. Rattling around and tearing up the tiles, my eyes screwed shut in wincing.\n\n\"I know you didn't kill her, but...\" he sighed. \"I'm sorry.\"\n\nI swallowed the bundle of nerves, another bout of fire in my chest. Maybe I wouldn't die just yet. That'd be nice.\n\n\"I'm sorry...\"\n\n\"Ik o!\" I yelled in a normal person's ground shaking voice, trying to tell him it was okay. \n\n\"No, I'm... I'm a professional. I **know** that you're not him. I **know** that you're innocent. I **know**, I know, I know. But each time I look at that face, I just want to strangle you.\"\n\nMy vision was coming back, and I could see the redness of his cheeks, and the glimmers of tears bouncing back. I coughed, shattering my world. \n\n\"C-come on, let's get you up, we need to put you through all the tests and care I denied that son of a bitch,\" he said, injecting his tone with as much cheer as he could manage before throwing up. I would have raised a hand to his, if not for the restraints. \n\nAnother cough. My world went black.\n\n \n\nI woke up to blinding lights, gasping in air. \n\n\"I think he's okay?\"\n\n\"He has to be.\" The doctor's voice.\n\n\"....\" I breathed, my voice not working when asking 'what happened'. Panic overtook me. What was wrong? Did the doctor poison me? Was my new body broken? \n\n\"The body should be working now.\"\n\nHot breath blasted my ears.\n\n\"I'm sorry...\" Him again. \"I thought... I... I wanted him to suffer. I...\"\n\nLights adjusted and I smiled.\n\n\"Ik o.\" \n\nMy vision was blurry again. But at least I could breathe easy.\n\n****\n\nVisit *(and maybe even consider subscribing to)* **/r/AlexUrwin** for more stories and bodies to inhabit!\n\nSidenote: I see the ambiguity. I took 'brain transplants are old news' as Brain Transplants are the norm these days.",
"Everything is flesh. The brain itself is about three pounds of meat and fatty tissue, wired via meat to the rest of the human body. Suffering gets so that it's undifferentiated, like it's part of you and you can't imagine being free of it. Quick: where in the body-brain dichotomy is nausea located? Where do you cut into to excise chronic fatigue? Where is pain? Is it all in your head? Or if you just severed the nerve endings, popped out the brain and slotted it into a brand new body, would you still wake up wanting to die? \n\n\"This is a standard procedure,\" Dr. Jessen told me, as I was wheeled into the operating room, imagining a convict's body waiting for me. All that pain slotted into a new body. Waste of time, I wanted to say, but the anesthesia was kicking in. \"I've done it dozens of times. You'll wake up, and you'll be a whole new you.\" \n\nEverything went dark for a moment. I woke up. \n\nImagine your body - I know it's right there, but close your eyes and recreate it. How high do you stand? What's your gait like when you walk, what's the pattern your teeth make across your tongue? How heavy are you? Where do you carry the weight? How far can you stretch and which positions make your muscles complain? You think about it, and that's all you are, the meat. That's the vantage point from where you view the world. Every breath you take, every blink, every swallow of saliva, every pulse and heartbeat, that's you, that's your body, that's all you are. \n\nAnd I was something totally different. \n\nI was without pain, sure, Dr. Jessen beaming down proudly at me. I stood and my feet were spread apart too wide, I was a few inches too high and got vertigo. There were muscles rippling over me that I'd never had. \"We did the tattoo removal beforehand,\" Dr. Jessen cut in. \"So that you wouldn't need to go through the trouble.\" \n\nI was looking down at a stranger's hands. My brain was bobbing in a stranger's head. \"Oh my god,\" I said, and the voice came out wrong, reverberated the wrong way in my skull. The voice was on the verge of tears, pleading with me. \"Please,\" I said, testing the words. \"Please. I want to live.\" \n\nDr. Jessen's brow furrowed. \"Please, Mr. Keppler, you're absolutely fine.\" His hands came up, herding me back to the hospital bed, and the body stumbled along. \"You're going to live! The operation was a complete success!\" \n\n\"Not that,\" I said, and buried my face in the hands. No. Not my face. None of it was mine. \"How the fuck - Who is this? Why did he have to die?\" I grabbed Jessen by the collar, shoving him up against the wall with a stranger's wrath. His eyes went wide behind his glasses. \"You killed him! How many of them did you kill!\" \n\n\"Security!\" Jessen squeaked. \"Mr. Keppler, Mr. Keppler, I assure you, this man was a murderer, he was on death row, he absolutely deserved to \" \n\n\"Why are there so many on death row!\" I said, and let him drop. The door burst open and two security guards came in, looking between us questioningly. \n\n\"Mr. Keppler is having an adverse reaction!\" Jessen said immediately. \"If you'll please - If you'll restrain him for a moment -\"\n\n\"Sir,\" one of them said, moving towards me. \n\n\"This is a standard procedure!\" I yelled. There was new blood pumping through my brain, through the veins, filling the muscles. \"Why the fuck are we executing this many people? We can cut out a brain-\" \n\n\"Sir. Sir, please -\" \n\n\"-we can switch it into a new body, thread the nerves together, and yet the only thing we can think to do to a murderer is kill him?\" The world changes in a new body, the proportions are different. Everything was slowly warping around me, taking on a new form of sense. \"I never questioned it. How could I? I was in pain! I just wanted the best chance of being free from suffering!\" The body was me. The brain was me. We were both a dead man, someone else entirely. I was wearing his skin. I was wearing his flesh. \"How many people does the state fucking murder? What did he do? What did he do? What do you do to keep the bodies flowing!\" \n\nAnd then the barbs pierced my skin and the current flowed through me and the body was someone else's entirely again, joints locking and muscles spasming outside of my control. And then the guards were on me, pinning my arms behind my back, holding me down. \n\n\"I'm very sorry,\" Jessen said, leaning down to face me. His face was flushed and his glasses were askew. \"This is a - this is a transitory problem, Mr. Keppler. Your brain is the same. But the glands, the hormones regulating emotion - they're unfamiliar to you, of course. But don't worry. This is outpatient surgery. A few adjustments to the glands, to your internal temperature, to better suit the, ah, climate your brain is used to -\" \n\n\"Don't!\" I shrieked, every part of my body retreating in terror, curling away from the men and their hands. \"You'll kill him! You'll kill him for good! You didn't need to kill someone for me! I didn't want this!\" My eyes were hot with tears. \"My god, I didn't want this!\" \n\n\"It's all right, Mr. Keppler,\" Jessen cooed, as the guards wrestled me back onto the bed, tightening straps onto my wrists. \"You're feeling irrational right now, this a symptom a certain percentage of brain transplant patients suffer, and I'm sorry I didn't adequately prepare you for the possibility -\" \n\n\"Please!\" I babbled, straining against the straps. Where is panic? Where is fear? Where is pity? Where is regret? Where is the will to live and to not have to watch anyone else die? Is it located solely in the brain? Can you find it in your gut, in your skin, prickling, in every nerve and fiber that makes up your functioning body? \"It's me! It's all me! There's no need to do this! There's no transitory period! It's me! I'm Carl Keppler! I'm all of it! You'll be lobotomizing me! You'll be killing another man for good!\" Where does a man on death row carry his fear, carry his regret, carry his rage at the system that killed him? Can you cut him open and extract it? What's left of him when you're done? \n\n\"This will be fine, Mr. Keppler,\" Jessen said, as the needle slid into my arm and I sank back onto the bed, body and mind dissolving and slipping into unconsciousness. \"Just wait. Just you wait. You'll be yourself in no time.\" "
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[WP] It's 2064, all cars have been fully automized. In order to be taken somewhere, you need to scan your Citizenship Card. This card includes race, gender, criminal record, and class. Only the top .01% can afford their own car, the rest are totally reliant on the cars owned by the corporations.
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"*“You are unauthorised to access this vehicle”*\n\n*“You are unauthorised to access this vehicle”*\n\n*“You are unauthorised to access thi-“*\n\nThe rest of the announcement was drowned out by the sound of Alex’s loud groan of exasperation. He stormed over to the customer service desk of the car lot, waving his citizenship card into the bored gaze of the service rep. \n\n“Why won’t any of your cars take my card?”. He glared at the rep, which finally brought some life into her. She took his card off him, and scanned it into a machine similar to that of the ones attached to every car. His file popped up on a screen on the rep’s desk, displaying his ID photo and personal details. The rep looked at him and raised an eyebrow. \n\n“Alex Johnson, 22, Caucasian, lower class”. She continued to stare at him, disinterest in his situation clear in her flat resting face, before continuing in a noticeably slower tone. “So your class and relatively young age means you’re already eliminated from using these cars”. The screen changed, showing an impressive range of cars from sports cars to the much more pedestrian models he had been trying to access. \n\nAlex examined the girl. Sure, she was barely old enough to drive herself, which would have eliminated her from accessing the most high end cars, but the quality blonde dye job, the manicure and the new smartphone she kept glancing at while talking to him suggested she was at least on the high end of the middle classes, if not upper class. She’d never have to face the barrage of rejections and limitations just to get through the average day.\n\n“Hey, I’m still talking”. She clicked her fingers in his face. \n\n*“Who the fuck dragged you up?”*, he thought.\n\n“To make matters worse”, she continued, a smirk growing on her face, “You were arrested in the anti-corporation protests last month, according to your file, so you lose access to cars on these levels as well”. Looking at the screen again, she swiped at least three quarters of the remaining cars away. \n\n“Nice choices”. The smirk was still there. Were he to complain, it’d be him to suffer the consequences - at the rate he was going he’d be banned from accessing anything in the car database. \n\n“Look, I’ll just take whatever’s the nearest”. He’d long gotten used to the tone of resignation he spoke with whenever he wanted…well anything. \n\n“Whatever”. She handed him his citizenship card back, and pinged the location of a car he could actually use to his phone. \n\nTwenty minutes later, he still hadn’t found the car and was lost in the labyrinthine layout of the lower floors of the car depot, the location of the kinds of cars the elite, or even any self respecting middle class citizen would be caught dead in. \n\nEventually he found the car, nestled in a corner over a flickering fluorescent light. He scanned his citizenship card over the car’s scanner\n\n*“Access granted”*\n\nThe car spluttered into life - Alex had to scan his card at least four more times before it started properly. No surprise there though, he was long used to being a second class citizen. Would this car even survive the 12 hour journey across the state that he needed to do he wondered? He doubted this car would even survive the journey along the main highway, although given his status his citizenship card would definitely deny him access to the fastest road, forcing him on to the rural back roads and through heavy industry zones.\n\nOut of sight, out of mind, just like this car for the lower classes abandoned in the corner of the depot.\n\nSuddenly, he felt a sense of rage, rage that he hadn’t even felt at the anti-corporation protests which had led him to such a limited life. Life was never going to change, so long as the government and the major corporations continued their unswerving allegiance of one another. This was the last time.\n\nHe got into the car, and began to drive out of the depot. Driving slowly past the customer service desk, he watched the rep chew gum and flick through a magazine. She’d never had to understand the suffering of the common people. \n\nShe never would.\n\nA sharp U-turn as soon as he exited the depot, and he was accelerating towards the customer service desk. Finally, he could have something he wanted without a damn about the upper classes.\n\nThe rep looked bored even after she’d noticed the car.",
"Franks pulled out his ratty old Cit card and proceeded to scan it into the 2059 Corp 33. He was in a hurry, the police were on his tail, just around the corner. Under his arm was a folder containing a computer chip and a few documents he had just taken from Fuzion, the leader in automotive industries world wide.\n*Static* \"Please scan Cit card to start vehicle\"\nFrank slid his card back into the laser reader once more.\n*Static* \"please scan Cit card to start vehicle\"\n\"FUCK, this old piece of shit!\"\nFrank opened the door to the car, got out, and ran to the nearest alley and hid behind the dumpster and pulled out his phone. The phones screen was filled with numbers scrolling up the screen from the bottom, numbers that only a trained eye could read. Frank pulled up the keypad, typed in a few numbers and it started to ring... \"Shit, shit shit!\" Frank immediately turned the sound off, poked his head out from behind the dumpster looking for the police. The two armed officers were approaching the Corp 33 with their flashlights and handguns.\nHe then pulled out the computer chip from his envelope, clipped the adapter on the bottom of the chip into his bionic right arm. \nThe screen on his phone pulled up a window with a login screen that read, \"Welcome Frank Wilder, CEO - Fuzion\" Frank quickly typed in his password and began to pull up the employee list, clicked on Agatha, and it began to ring.\nAfter 2 rings he heard the phone answer, on the other end Frank heard breathing.\n\"Hello? Agatha?? Is that you?\" Frank said worriedly.\n\"Hello Mr Wilder\" The voice on the other end replied. It was not Agathas voice, but instead it was a mans. Agatha was not married or dating. Frank was confused.\n\"Who is this? Where is Agatha?\" asked Frank.\n\"The choices you've made, Mr Wilder, the decisions you implemented, have taken affect. Please turn yourself in.\"\n\"Fuck you!!\" Frank screamed.\n\nFrank turned off the phone, stood up, and looked at the Corp 33. The officers were sitting inside the car scanning the interior with their phones. \n\"Good luck with that\" Frank muttered. He put his phone into his pocket and unclipped the chip from his arm and placed it back into the envelope. He took one more look at the officers, they were still scanning the car. Frank bolted out from behind the dumpster and ran the opposite way out of the alley and headed for the shipping yard across the street. \n\nTo be continued. :D\n"
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[WP] You are an alien intelligence officer preparing to invade and infiltrate earth. You have been assigned one of the most important tasks, review the pictures of humans and their everyday lives.
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"The memoirs in this book are and should be remained classified and should remain so until it reaches Dominus Q. Dominus will then decide what to do with it, until then, please refrain from reading this unless you are primus inspector Y.\n\nMy name is Yqri Djenof and I was born Kepler 22b aka KOI-087.01 and these are my memoirs, thoughts and beliefs that I've written before, during and after I infiltrated planet 0873215, aka Earth. Last warning before going into the text. If you are caught reading this without consent, it will endanger all Cepaxes and all Humans, including you. \n\n**20th of Enuj age 30 720 Note: Cepaxes, Dominus Q and Ferisha, please forgive me. We are doomed.**\n___________________________________________________\n**Day 1:** \n\n\"What will your name be on earth, Yqris?\" \n\nTo be honest, I didn't know what I name I should pick. I mean, what's the most normal name a human can have? Especially in a place like 51.5074° N, 0.1278° W, which is also known as London? All I knew at that time was that I would miss Ferisha. Even now, as I'm writing this, great agony is filling my body, my spirit, my soul. But I'm doing this for me, for us and for the great Dominus Q.\n\n\"Yqris, I said what will your name be once you've infiltrated Earth?\" \n\n\"Muhammed, darling, Muhammed,\" I answered. \n\nSafe to say that it ended on that note, as she knew that Muhammad would raise some issues, especially with the recent tensions on Earth. \n\nWhat a horrible way to say farewell. \n\n\n___\n**Day 2:** \n\nAlright, now I look like a normal human. At least according to the Pioneer Plaque that we found 16 cycles ago. I'm being shipped the first thing in the morning and will land on 50 earth kilometres from 51.5074° N, 0.1278° W. \n\n___\n**Day 5:**\n\nFirst day of *actual* work today. Nothing interesting happened. Ferisha's questioning made sense because a customer left and spat on the floor. I do not understand this hatred between humans. Do they not have any sort of leader that binds them together, as Q does for us? **Will update on this as time proceeds.**\n\nThe head of the job hates me. He keeps telling me that taking a driver's license photo is an art and not a day job to support yourself. Whatever, my leaders ensured that I will have live comfortable as I stayed here. \n\n___\n**Day 6:** \n\nA message was sent by inspector Wraq earlier today saying that I should invite my neighbors for a dinner party, to study how they communicate and also report if we have missed strengths or weaknesses that Humans may have. I'll stay awake all night to track down what times my neighbors leave their homes.\n\nAlso, I found out who the leader for the most powerful and advanced nations on Earth is named: Trump, Donald Trump. He seemed smart and as I was saying that partnering with the most powerful nation in the East would help Earth. Perhaps he is man kind's version of Dominus Q? \n\n\n**More updates will follow**\n\n___\n**Day 7**\n\nToday, I am going to invite every neighbor and co-worker to a barbecue this Friday. Hopefully, they'll come. \n\n___\n\n**Day 9.**\n\nOnly 4 out of my 15 neighbors are coming for tomorrow's barbecue. I haven't had the time to be write down anything as I have been tracking what time everyone leaves for work. The others said that they will be busy, but it seems that they are lying. Perhaps it is an inconvenience and time is precious for mankind? It also seems like there's this great level of egocentric beliefs that are present in this society. Is it a human thing? Or culture? **More updates will follow and tomorrow will be an interesting day**\n\n___\n**Day 10** \n\nWraq was sent just sent a message right now about the incident and I'll write as soon as I can, because at this point I will get murdered, or all my guests will be eliminated. \n\n\n___\n___\n\nIf you have any feedback or wish that I should write a part 2 please tell me in the comments!\n\nIf you like this story, interact with me on twitter @Jadolicious! I am active daily. \n\n",
"\"Riker personal log star date 94641.57. Command keeps telling me that looking thought these pictures is key to use winning the coming battle with the humans. At first I thought the same thing. Knowing what someone does in their everyday life. Knowing how they act can and does help make any battle shorter and cost fewer lives on both sides. I just can't help but think that they know this is all bullshit and this is just punishment after what happened last week. I didn't mean to...I mean I did, but it wasn't suppose to end with the captain losing all of his fur. It was just suppose to turn his fur neon orange. I mean how is review some one taking fifty pictures of themselves in the bathroom mirror suppose to help us? Besides telling us to never stop at the truck stop she went to, because of how dirty it is. End Log\" \n\nA few more minutes passed as Riker continued to look over the pictures that was gathered. Someone knocked on his door. With a stern voice he said, \"Enter.\" \n\nA man with fur still growing back entered the room, but still looking rather pinkish. Riker immediately stood up and put his right paw to his head. With a voice that could be heard anywhere on the ship, he took a death breath and asked, \"Do you know why you are here?\"\n\nA few seconds pasted and the caption repeated himself this time more forcefully, \"DO YOU KNOW WHY YOU ARE HERE?!\" \n\nThis time Riker replied almost immediately, \"I don't understand sir? I was assigned to this ship by admiral Dew la...\" \n\nRiker was interrupted with the caption bellowing voice easily over powering his \"Not what I mean! I mean do you know why you are here in this room instead of in the brig?\"\n\n\"Because someone has to look over the picture to find the weak spot in the humans defaces.\" Saying the first thing that came to his mind. \n\n\"You kidding? I could have anyone on this ship do that, I could even have you do that from the brig.\" The captains voice still vibrating this walls and deck platting. But is wasn't like it use to be hard, abrupt, and demanding. Just a bit softer, a bit warmer. \"I was young once. I did stupid things. You should have seen the prank we pulled on our captain on his anniversary running his ship. We managed to turn his tongue and lips bright green. But you really should not have used a chemical that was that harsh. If it didn't give me second degree burns everything would have been alright. Now I believe you have a report for me\""
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[WP] Every night for as long as you can remember, rain or shine, old man Klein sits there in his chair with a blanket and baseball bat next to three solid gold bars just out reach from the sidewalk
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"\"Jack! Come over here god damn it...\"\n\nThe sun was setting and I gave in to his cajoling. Old Man Klein was preparing for his nightly ritual of sitting in his Jazzy Sport 2, motorized wheel chair--the kind you see the obese and elderly riding around WalMart--at the edge of the walkway leading up to his house with an American flag blanket on his lap and a Louisville Slugger in his hands while three gold bars nested against the left wheel. I opened my gate and walked to the corner of his yard, stopping a few feet from his chair.\n\n\"Jack. Did you see 'em?\"\n\n\"See what?\"\n\n\"Them... The lurkers.\" He pointed vaguely in the direction of other houses on our block.\n\n\"What? Lurkers? What are you talking about?\" I attempted a skeptical face.\n\n\"Jack. You see these Gold Bars?\"\n\n\"Yes I see the bars.\"\n\n\"They're solid twenty four karat gold bars. The real god damn deal.\"\n\n\"Yeah, you've told me before.\"\n\n\"Did you ever wonder how a guy like me, ended up with three--\" he held up three fingers for emphasis, \"--solid twenty four karat gold bars?\"\n\nI had wondered about the bars, but my Canadian social conditioning had deterred me from asking about something which was none of my business. And Old Man Klein was clearly insane at a level at which nothing he said could be legitimately trusted.\n\n\"You see, my legs used to work just fine. I enlisted as a sorry ass private when they were in their prime. 1957. Or maybe it was 1948. They sent me to guard a place called Fort Knox. Fort god damn Knox. Did everything my officers asked me to like a blind billy goat, full of faith in 'the system' and 'the meritocracy,' knowing one day I'd get out of that boring hell hole and see some real genuine action.\" Klein gestured like a disenchanted philosopher.\n\n\"But all those dreams came to a god damn end.\" He paused. \"Ran the obstacle course too many times and on the last run my grip slipped on the ropes and I fell right on to my spine. Lost all control of my legs.\"\n\n\"I'm sorry.\"\n\n\"Sorry? Son, they gave me this god damn wheel chair. That's it. And I was honorably discharged. Told me I would be moved out in two weeks.\"\n\n\"You must have felt pretty discouraged. Sucks.\"\n\n\"I was in denial Jack. I argued with them at first. I thought I could still battle--with my chair. Maybe add a few custom features to handle terrain. Thought I would make a top tier support machine gunner. But they didn't have room for a wheelchair bound soldier in their ranks. I wasn't worth anything.\" His hand tremored on the remote of his chair. \"You see, that's when I began planning. Planning my revenge.\""
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[WP] Write a story that starts as a TIFU post and then turns into a nosleep post
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"This actually happened a few days ago. I was browsing in the pawn shop near mine and my SO’s apartment. This adorable doll caught my attention. I’m not too familiar with antique dolls, but the owner of the place described it as French Fashion, whatever that was. The doll was being held up from behind by a stand, and she was wearing a flowery dress that seemed early 2000’s. Looking back on it now, I’m not sure why it occurred to me that I should buy it as a gift for my SO, but at the time it made perfect sense. The owner asked only 60 bucks for it, which sounded like quite the deal for a doll from the 19th century. \n\nMy SO was home when I walked in, she had just finished trying on a new dress that she had picked up from Anthropology that day, she described it as a scarlet caftan, and was offering to put it back on for me ;) but I decided to surprise her with the doll first. This was where it went downhill. Apparently, she has a very bad phobia of dolls that developed when she was younger and visiting her grandma’s house, which was filled with creepy dolls. She only explained this after screaming and bolting out of the apartment. Setting the doll down I quickly followed her. I ended up having to drive her to her parents, because she wouldn’t calm down. She ended up wanting to stay the night. \n\nWhen I got back to the apartment, someone had walked in and stolen the doll and the dress! They were both gone. Only the stand remained, thrown on the ground. This was entirely my fault, because in the panic I had forgotten to lock the door. I didn’t want to let my SO know right away, as that would not help her emotional stability at the moment. I checked the apartment for any other missing things, or signs of intrusion, but luckily they hadn’t stolen our PS4 or anything else. I didn’t think it was worth it to report it to the police as it was only a couple items.\nThat night when I was lying in bed I thought I heard some giggling, but when I got up to see if there was anyone outside, I couldn’t see anyone. The next night, my girlfriend came back, and she was not happy about the dress. Halfway through the night she woke me up in hysterics, ended up having to drive her to her parents again, and now she won’t come back into our place. She keeps talking about the doll watching us sleep, and wearing her dress. I’m not really sure what she is talking about, I’ve slept fine the past few nights. If she doesn’t change her mind, I guess we’re going to be looking for a new place soon, which means we’ll have to pay our way out of the lease. It’s all been a very frustrating experience. \n\nTLDR: Ask your SO about his or her phobias before buying them gifts or you might have to break your lease.\n",
"Obligatory this didn't actually happen today. My FU happened last week. I was out for a run around my neighborhood and it was SO icy out. Probably should have turned back, but I'm training for a half and need to get the milage in. Anyway, I was about two miles into my run and decided to cut through the cemetery instead of looping all the way around it. This is where it started going downhill. \n\nAs I was running along the path, I noticed a group of people dressed in all black and holding candles. My first thought was a candlelight vigil, but I've always been a super curious person so I decided to run a little closer to it. The wind was really blowing hard and made it tough to hear anything, but as I approached I noticed that the group was chanting in unison. \n\nAll of them were gathered in a circle, and they were clearly focusing on something in the middle. When I was about thirty yards away or so, I got a terrible feeling in my stomach and knew something wasn't right. Like a pack of hungry dogs all of them stopped chanting and darted their heads towards me. These people were straight up staring at me, no doubt about it. \n\nWhat's worse, even though I knew something awful was happening, I couldn't turn back around. My legs just kept moving closer to them. I got within maybe 10 yards and could see what they were circled around.\n\nIt was a hand-sewn doll with my freaking face on it! I was still drifting towards them and the chanting had not only started up again, but was getting louder. Finally my feet dug in and I was able to jump backwards. I fell pretty hard and banged up my hip and knees, but I was able to get to my feet and get out of there.\n\nPretty much no one believes me, and the ones that do all keep telling me the doll didn't have my face. They say I was just scared and imagined the worst. It made me feel a little better, but every night since then I swear I can hear the chants floating on the wind outside my room. \n\nWhen I looked out the window tonight, I could see candlelights bobbing up and down in the woods behind my house. My parents are out of town this weekend, and I have all the doors and windows locked, but I'm terrified they're going to come for me!\n\nTLDR: Cut through a cemetery and interrupted some freaky cult that created a doll in my likeness. Now they're outside."
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[WP] You have always been able to see how long other people have to live. You are invited to a huge party, and after becoming drunk, you notice that everyone around you only has 15 minutes left.
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"** First time poster, Sorry for the length, got carried away. Hope you like it**\n\nIts happened for as long as I can remember. Whenever I concentrate on someone I can see a number, normally unique to them, other times a couple would share a number. It took me a long time to work out what this meant. I had been able to see this since I was a child and finally when I was a teenager I had realised what it was, the amount of time they had left until their death. \n\nWhen I realised this, I became obsessed. Constantly checking everyone's number, trying to work out what would cause their time to be so long or so short. I had on occasion managed to change peoples numbers. I remember helping my dad through quitting smoking. It was not long after I realised what the numbers meant that I relised it was probably the reason my Dads number was so low. I had spent months supporting him a convincing him to finally give up. When he did his number started to rise, I had never been so happy to have the gift. Although I had never told a single person about this, I felt it was an important part of me. \n\nOnly twice had I ever seen someone with a number less than a day. I remember both of them as if it was yesterday. The first time I saw a low number was while I was waiting for the train to work. Often I would look around and check peoples numbers when I was bored. However that morning was one time I will never forget, I was standing there checking peoples numbers when I saw a man standing alone on the station, staring at his shoes, with a number of 3 minutes. I froze, this was the lowest I had ever seen, this was basically now. I didn’t know what to do. I just turned and ran off the station, I don’t know why but I had to get out. As I was leaving I heard it. The train arriving and the thud and the screams, and I knew he had jumped. \n\nThe other time was a lot nicer. It was only a few weeks ago when I was walking along the street, again checking numbers, when I saw a middle aged lady walking towards me with a time of 10hrs. All the memories of last time came back to me, however this time I didn’t freeze. As she got closer I looked at her and smiled, and said \"I love that dress, really suits you, you look nice\". She looked a bit surprised but smiled. As she walked past, I looked back and checked her number again, 4 years. \n\nToday was my brothers 30th birthday BBQ. I hadn’t looking forward to it. They always seem to get a bit rowdy after drinking, which is quite often. I had planned to leave early, hoping to avoid most of the drama. As I sat there listening to my mother talk about how I never get to see her enough and that I was too busy with work to spend time with her I was planning my escape, what excuse could I use this time? I had already had a few too many to drink so was planning on catching an Uber home. As she was talking to me I could hear my Dad and my brother arguing with the neighbor about the noise. This was normal at gatherings, he hated how often and how loud my family gatherings were, constantly sticking his head over the fence to complain about the noise and amount of people. He had never been nice, always preferring to keep to himself, we would only see him when he wanted to complain. \n\nAs they were arguing, I stared at my brother, and checked his number like I often do, out of habit really. 15 mins. My heart dropped. I panicked, I checked my Dads, 15 mins. Mums, 15 mins. Everywhere I looked, everyone I checked as 15 mins. How did this happen, I had checked mums only an hour ago and she was 26 years. There had to be a reason for the sudden drop in everyones numbers, and I had to be able to do something. Then I realised, I checked the neighbors number, 32 years. He was the only one who survived. He must be the reason, maybe we had pushed him too far. This was obviously the last straw. \n\nWhat could I do, how could I stop him, I mean I didn’t even know how it would happen. I ran to dad screaming to stop arguing, but he had had a few too many to be reasonable at that point. I pleaded, and begged him to stop arguing and come inside. I think he saw the panic in my eyes and stopped. Asking what was wrong as we walked inside. I didn’t know what to say. I could hardly tell him the truth, there wasn’t enough time to expain it. 9 minutes. That was all I had. As I was yelling everyone was looking and started coming over, gathering around me. What could I do. There wasn’t enough time to get everyone to leave. There was too many people. Only 8 minutes. Think.... Think.... What could I possibly do to stop this. I had to do something. This is my family. 7 minutes. \n\nEveryone was together now, gathered on the patio muttering and asking eachother what was wrong with me. They were all trying to comfort me, even though they didn’t know why. 5 minutes. Then I had an idea, but I had to act fast. He hated us, we hadn't been the best neighbors to him, always loud and fairly disrespectful and he had had enough now. So I had an idea of what might stop him. 3 minutes. I told everyone I needed some space, I needed to walk and I slipped out the front and went straight next door. I knocked on his door and was surprised when he answered so quick. I stuttered a few times but managed to get out what I wanted to say. I told him I was sorry for the noise today and all the other times, I told him this was the last time, that we are selling the house and this was our final goodbye to our family home. I told him that this was it. He didn’t need to worry again. He didn’t respond. He just started and then turned and walked away. As he turned, I saw it. Behind his back. The biggest gun I have ever seen. It sent chills down my entire body. \n\nI ran back home and saw mum first. I checked as quick as I could. 26 years. It worked. I had done it. ",
"I've never been able to quite explain how I can see how long people will live, it shows up above their heads. For many years of my life I was called insane for telling people, so I stopped. Eventually everyone kind of forgot about it. During college I became friends with the popular kids and I after about a year I was invited to the biggest party of the year about 200 people showed up and we all drank like there was no tomorrow. After I had downed about 6 beers I looked around and noticed that everyone around me had 15 minutes left to live, I naturally assumed It was the same for me. So in my drunken state I started running, on my way out I bumped into some exposed pipe and I guess it was loose, because it broke. I was running for what seemed like 15 minutes and I suddenly heard a deafening boom from behind me. The house I was in minutes ago had exploded in a giant fiery ball. \n\n\n\nNote: So this is my first WP, I decided to just see if I could do well.\nConstructive Criticism and Tips are appreciated "
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[WP] The EULA for a gun.
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"YOU AGREE TO BE BOUND BY THE FOLLOWING TERMS AND CONDITIONS BY RELEASING THE SAFETY, LOADING THE WEAPON, AND/OR ENGAGING THE FIRING APPARATUS IN ANY WAY, SHAPE, OR FORM, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO PULLING THE TRIGGER. IF YOU DO NOT WISH TO BE BOUND BY THESE TERMS AND CONDITIONS, PLACE THE FIREARM IN A SAFE LOCATION AND **DO NOT** DO ANY OF THE PREVIOUSLY MENTIONED ACTIVITIES.\n\n1. Acceptance of these terms grants you the right to use the firearm in any manner you deem appropriate, requiring that it is within reason and not forbidden by any federal, state, or local regulations/laws. \n\n2. Acceptance of these terms requires you to agree that you will **not** reverse engineer, redistribute, or commit any other act that is in violation of GunInTheSun Inc's sole copyright. You are also forbidden from having a large penis or active sex life if you own more than two of our products over .45 CAL and/or a magazine larger than 15 rounds.\n\n3. As the rightful owner of a GunInTheSun Inc firearm, you are required to have an, at minimum, mild distaste for multiple races, including but not limited to, Arabs, Blacks, Chinks, Towel-Heads, etc. You are also required to own a Ford F-150 or higher, or other manufacturer equivalent, modified to be able to roll coal at a red light in a crowded city.\n\n4. In the event of your friend and family's disapproval, hatred from other ethnic groups, or other ill-effect, GunInTheSun Inc cannot be held liable if the firearm was sold in proper working order."
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[WP] Neighbors move in. Strangely, their locks are on the outside of the door and the windows are barred.
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"Why do people put locks on the inside of their doors? Well it's simple, isn't it? If the locks are on the inside then once it is locked, nobody can unlock them from outside, it protects you against the world. So, if we accept this as true, what is the good of a lock on the outside of the door? Could it maybe be the opposite? If the purpose of a lock on the inside is to keep something outside from getting inside, then is the purpose of a lock on the outside to keep something inside from getting outside? \n\nAt first, I didn't notice it, the moving van pulling up across the street from me was just the sign that the new family had arrived. The moving van itself was a pretty standard affair, white with the logo of whatever company owned it and undoubtedly mostly filled with junk that the family 'couldn't bear to part with'. Only a few minutes later, another van pulled up behind the first one and was followed by a small black car. From the dark confines of my home, this new car intrigued me because the people inside were not the kind of people I expected to see moving into the area. The front doors opened and two men stepped out, one of them slightly taller than the other and both of them wearing dark suits. \n\nThe two men talked for a second before opening the door and stepping into the shadows of the house. A couple of minutes later, another car pulled up behind the first and three more men and a woman stepped out. The woman seemed to be wearing handcuffs of some sort and, upon a bit more inspection, I realised that the men very definitely had guns holstered by their sides. One of them went to the trunk of the car and picked out two large plastic bags before disappearing into the shadows along with the other two. It was a half an hour before the men emerged as one group without the woman. After talking for a minute or two, they seemed to shake hands and then drove off. \n\nOver the next few weeks, I watched the house closely when I could and during that time the only people I ever saw entering and leaving were more of these men in black, carrying plastic bags into the house, presumably dropping them off and then leaving. Even the moving vans were driven and filled with more of these men. People passed by the house and seemed to take no notice of the strange events that had occurred, nor did they take any notice of the house itself or the permanently dark windows. Even when I asked people about the house, they seemed to simply give me non-answers or dodge the question. \n\nIt was about 3 or 4 weeks later that I noticed something new one day while leaving my house. It wasn't until a second glance that I noticed something, the door was ajar and for a minute I was left stood there gazing at the small crack of blinding darkness inside. At that moment I should have left it alone, I hadn't seen anyone enter or leave today and, given what I had seen, there was no reason to suspect that anything good would come of it. Yet, for whatever reason, it felt as if something was calling me, something was reaching out and pulling me in. Mindlessly, I stepped out away from my door and began crossing the road, not paying any attention to anything other than that slight sliver of darkness coming from within. \n\nApproaching the door I noticed with interest that the door didn't have a lock like others, instead, it was locked from the outside rather than the inside. Almost as if someone wanted to keep something in. Yet I didn't seem to mind, all I was thinking about was the door and the darkness beyond it and the person inside. Slowly, I pushed the door open, the light from outside spreading and illuminating more of the blank hallway inside. \n\n'Hello?' I called, not really expecting an answer.\n\nSilence. \n\nAfter a minute of waiting, listening to the deafening silence, I stepped over the precipice and entered the shadows gently closing the door behind me. Somewhere in my head, I could hear a voice screaming at me, railing against the madness that had possessed me and pleading for me to turn back before it was too late. But, unbeknownst to both it and I, the moment of no return had long passed and my body couldn't... wouldn't stop now. The hallway twisted and turned before me as I crept down it, slowly and steadily approaching the door at the end. \n\n'Hello' She responded, her voice smooth and silky from down at the end of the door. 'Come on in. Come see me.'\n\nSomething was very wrong.\n\n'I'm right here'\n\nI couldn't quite place my finger on it.\n\n'They've been keeping me here.'\n\nWhat was it? \n\n'I'm so lonely.'\n\nMy mind voice screaming at me to stop. I ignored it.\n\n'Help me'\n\nHer voice seemed to drop to something more childish, more like she was pleading with me.\n\nThat was it! Her voice, it sounded... wrong... like someone who didn't quite understand human speech. It seemed awkward and the pronunciation was wrong.\n\nI needed to stop.\n\nI couldn't stop.\n\nI wouldn't stop, her voice seemed so... sweet... so wrong and distorted and yet...\n\n'Sweet. Like the honey on a trap'\n\nI reached out for the door.\n\n'So close now.'\n\nThe door opened, the trap swung shut and I was consumed, never to be seen again. Nobody noticed. \n\n\n------------------------------------------------------------------------------------\n\nNote from the Author: Well... that was interesting. I don't even know where that went towards the end. \n\n"
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Humans that decided to be frozen may wake up to find themselves in a future where they are a collectible. Are they rare based off the year of freezing? Age? Race? Rich poor? Do aliens keep them frozen? Have them as pets? Made to fight in Frozenman Battles?
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[WP]Humans that chose cryogenic slumber are prized by aliens that view them as a rare collectible.
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"I never asked to be frozen. My mother was always a bit quirky and I guess my accident was more than she could handle. That's the last thing I remembered, the semi racing towards me. The headlights bathed everything in too bright light and then everything went quiet. \n\nI don't know how long I lay frozen and dreaming. I don't know when humanity died out, or why. I don't know when the aliens landed. I don't know when their fad for human media swept their culture but it hit hard. \n\nThe aliens listen to our music and tv shows, heck they even watch our porn. Real earth relics are in the highest demand. Alien children watch Disney movies and collect earth toys. Re-re-runs of Friends and Seinfeld play on screens in every home. A real earth burger and fries or pizza is a favorite meal. They've rebuilt replicas of our bowling alleys and ice cream shops. Earth fashion is displayed in every shop window.\n\nI first awoke confused and disoriented. I couldn't move but I could see, hear and feel. Paralyzed. That was my first coherent thought. The semi. The lights. My eyes swept back and forth looking for doctors, nurses, something familiar. That's when I realized I wasn't laying in a bed, but upright. I was surrounded by cardboard, with a little plastic window I could see out of. My limbs were hooked into the cardboard, holding me upright. \n\nSomething horrible appeared in the window. It was looking right at me. It spoke but I couldn't understand the language. I panicked. My breaths came in short desperate gasps but I couldn't move my arms or legs. I had to be dreaming. Or hallucinating. Maybe I had brain damage from the accident. The face disappeared from view. \n\nTime lost all meaning. Sometimes there were lights, sometimes it was dark but no one fed me or came to check on me at all. I was resigned to die. In fact, that's what I decided this was, a nightmare of vivid intensity as the last flashes of my brain sputtered and went out. Of course, I was wrong.\n\nAnother horrible, unknowable and completely alien face looked in through the plastic window. Suddenly I was being lifted down and carried. I was placed on some kind of table. Dread filled my heart as I listened to the voices talking above me. Then I was heated up and carried away. I got one single glimpse of the building I was in and it filled me with horror. \n\nRows and rows and rows of cardboard boxes lined up in displays. Each cardboard box had a little plastic window with a human face peering through. The trapped, haunted eyes live in my nightmares to this day. \n\nI was taken to this thing's home. Many things were utterly foreign and unrecognizable to me, yet interspersed with regular, every day items I was familiar with. There was a Mickey Mouse clock on the wall. Bruce Springsteen played from hidden speakers. A bowl of fruit was on a counter. A lava lamp held pride of place on a mantle. \n\nI've been here for weeks now with no chance of escape. The alien mania for human artifacts adds a level of the banal and prosaic to the horror of my current existence. I have quite the wardrobe, I'd never have been able to afford it in my previous life. I'm propped up on the couch to watch tv every day while the owner is away. I see the ads constantly. The most prized artifact is the Real Earth Sex Doll."
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[WP]After death, you discover that the afterlife is a sprawling utopia. As a form of punishment, they send people back to the world of the living.
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"\"Why the fuck would you want to head back out there?\"\n\nI resisted the urge to shrug. Instead, I chugged down another beer. \n\nBeside us, a couple was making out with a passion that was probably more suited for hell. They were as tall as each other, with perfectly toned bodies. As far as any onlooker could tell while their faces sought to melt into each other's, either man was as handsome as the other. \n\nWomen were casting gazes over their way. The couple was definitely getting the attention they sought. \n\nI felt uncomfortable being beside them, with gazes sweeping past me, returning briefly, then satisfyingly pass me by a second time. I had not expected to miss being uncomfortable. \n\n\"Do you feel uncomfortable?\" I whispered to Chris and his brows were pinched in bewilderment. \n\n\"No, I want to join them.\" He finished the remnants of his mug, stood up, strode over and plonked himself down on a front row seat. \n\nA dozen women, inundated by the fear of missing out, followed Chris's example. I was now more amazed with their unparalleled focus than I was with the public display. \n\nI bade Chris farewell, which he acknowledged absent-mindedly. \n\nOutside, a five-thousand strong crowd had assembled to paint. They were silent and their hands were nimble. As I watched them, wondering where to head to, some of them watched me in return. \n\nI wove amidst them to see what they were making. There were many canvases of blue and rolling clouds. Others were absorbed with capturing the throbbing township. A few of them waved me over to show me their impression of me, stumbling out from the bar into the light. They were being polite. In response, I conjured a smile and nodded, so that they could move on to their next blank canvas. \n\nI headed to the windy alleys with harsh corners and hardly any light. There was unbridled laughter from a man who stood wide and victorious over a heap of a man. \n\nAnd then the victorious man vanished. Undoubtedly, he was returned to Earth for decades of unfulfilling life. \n\nThe fallen man roused from the floor. For a moment he cupped his bleeding head, his expression was a grimace. And then he paused. He lifted his hand from the back of his head and stared at his palm. No blood. He paid me no heed as he strode away. \n\n\"Sir,\" my voice shook. \"Could you take one more bashing today?\"\n\nHe whirled around and his expression mirrored Chris's. Had I made a mistake? Was he in an actual scuffle rather than living out his way of afterlife?\n\n\"You guys really find it *that* hard to believe that I *want* this?\" He asked. He reached out a hand and I shook it. \n\n\"I want to return to life,\" I whispered like the words were not meant for him. It sounded strange, like I could not stick to it if the idea was more tangible. \n\n\"Suit yourself man. And don't get me wrong, I don't enjoy pain. I just want to purge guys like you who don't deserve this utopia.\" He said it more inoffensively than I thought possible, with outstretched hands and open palms in an inviting gesture. \n\nI shook all hesitation and obliged. \n\n---\n\nSubscribe to flash fiction on [Fivens](https://fivenswrite.wordpress.com/2017/01/12/float/)\n "
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[WP] you go to the shop for cigarettes, and return to find your wife has remarried, and your son and daughter have aged ten years.
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"I really didn't care what anyone thought. I'd been too long without a smoke and it was time to fall off the cancerstick wagon.\nCigarettes are banned on Black Rock so I had to go all the way to St Petersburg but that was ok because Jimmy was doing a transport run there in *Betty* and he said I could get a job as Radengineer in his boat since the other guy was quitting.\n\n*Betty* is fine, faster than most, but even Jimmy admits she cant defy the laws of physics. Two weeks it took for the round trip, my lungs complaining all the way back and my brain loving every second of it. I even timed it perfect, the last butt being extinguished as *Betty* pulled into port back at my home town.\n\nThe folks knew where I'd gone. Customs had told the police when they lodged the missing person's report. Laws at Black Rock being what they are, divorce was automatic after the first two years. Don't care, the wife could have her new husband. There was more than a good chance they were his kids anyway. Didn't look nothin' like me, especially now they'd grown up.\n\nNow that I have experience as Radengineer, Jimmy lined me up with some other guys who were going to Beta67. Much further, probably about 3 months all around. \n\nTotally awesome Einstein, the ex-wife should have died of old age by the time I get back.\n",
"Side note: This is my first attempt at one of these. Let me know what you think!\n\nIn this moment right now, this is the best cigarette I have ever had.\n\nI came home to find Cheryl with another man. My eyes widened in on him. He was a man with such a familiar face. Such a strong cheekbone structure with a wavy complexion. His nose somehow pointed *and* rounded at the same time and jutting jaw, much like mine.\n\nShe was sitting on the couch and snuggling up with him when I walked through the door. As I stared at her, unnoticed, I just imagined him embracing her warmth and memorizing the patterns of her neutral heartbeat, such as I have these past four years. I have never found such rage inside myself as I have in this moment. It's the moment I snapped. I didn't even give them a chance to explain.\n\nI ran to my office, passing Cheryl, the man, and two teenagers *who slightly resembled my children* but my peripheral was so focused on grabbing the gun that I barely noticed. My elbow spurting small silts of leaking blood from shattering the glass on my gun cabinet. The words 'this is it' just kept repeating through my mind in a stuttering fashion as I loaded and cocked my beautifully polished Beretta. I'd like to say that I was startled by the words coming out of his mouth as he stood in the doorway, but it all translated to scattered gibberish to me. My adrenaline kicked in.\n\nThe hammer cocked back once. Twice. I don't know which echoed more, the screams coming from Cheryl, or the blood slopping against the halls of **my** ranch. My boots are drenched in blood and I felt it seeping through my toe cap. I guess water resistant isn't the same as blood resistant. She just wailed in tears in front of me, begging for her life in such a monotone and unusually deep voice. Her words were completely unrecognizable to any language that I have heard. The hammer cocked back once more. The sound pierced through my ears, almost completely disorientating me. A hand grabbed my shoulder and was met with an elbow in the stomach, a jab from my muzzle, and the sound of a high speed bullet ripping through bone and flesh. Then I saw a woman, one that I do not recognize, standing in the doorway looking at me in despair. She tried to run. I shot her...\n\nAs I'm sitting in my car, smoking what will be my last cigarette, I realize two things: that the vehicle parked adjacent to my neighbors house resembles my brothers and that my cigarette is not filled with **just** tobacco. In fact, what my cigarette contains is small particles of a powdery blue substance.\n\nThe last thing I see is a flash of white, and then everything is black.",
"I flick my cigarette butt onto my lawn. My family's making it hard to care anymore. It's hard to find the root of it all. I actually don't remember feeling so ill towards them before I set out for the convenience store. But it's all rushed up from within. \n\nI approach the front door and it opens as I reach for the handle. My wife stands there with an older man next to her. I look back at my wife waiting for her to tell me what this person's over here for. She says nothing. Two women in their twenties are coming down the stairs. My wife just stares and asks me when I'm going to stop doing this. \n\nShe looks older now that I'm really looking at her. I ask her what she's talking about. The two women behind them are my daughters. How did they get so old? Is that really them? I know it but don't believe it. Everyone looks annoyed that I asked what I did. My wife takes my arm and gently guides me inside. She asks me if I know what day it is. It's Tuesday. And asks if I remember last Tuesday. She faces me towards the mirror in the front hall. I look older than I thought I was.\n\nI stare and I don't remember last Tuesday. I don't remember the week before. I can't move. I hear one of my daughter's on the phone. The older man has gone upstairs. The rage that was rising is making it's way past the surprise. I find my fist banging against the wall, saying things I can't control or comprehend. I turn to my wife and she worriedly looks at her watch. ",
"I open my eyes and cast them around me. The sky is a bright blue, peppered with fluffy clouds and I feel oddly comfortable. My ease drops away swiftly as the smell of rotting garbage engrossed my mind and I realize I'm spread eagled in a garbage dump. Fighting down tremors of nausea I dig myself out of the pile and take my bearings. \"What happened?\" I ask myself out loud. My pockets are empty and my question seems to answer itself. I must have been robbed and they dumped me out here. They must not have expected me to survive. Think. What's the last thing you remember? The words pour from my subconscious and I think back. \n\nThe last thing I remember...\n\n\"I was at home, with Joan!\" I cry out. \"We were all in the living room, us and our two adopted boys.\" The image jolts forward from memory as if it intended to ram through my forehead and run singing into the world. \n\nI see her face as if she stood in front of me. Soft brown eyes, and hair that shimmered like dark honey in the sunlight. Her lips wrung themselves together as if they fought to master the words that came out. The words were simple though. \"Dear, could you run down and pick me up some cigarettes?\" She knew I disapproved, but I let it slide since it was only when she was stressed out. \"I've got something I need to talk to the boys about, and I'm not sure how they'll take it.\" \"Sure thing hon,\" I grinned back to her. Then I turns toward the door and there's nothing until waking up in the garbage pile.\n\n\"I've got to get back!\" I cry out. At this point it's hard for me to tell which dialogue is internal or not. Its unimportant as I feel the pressing need to return to my family. \n\nLooking around, I find the road that leads through the dump and start walking. I don't really notice until I've made it to the asphalt, but my ankles and knees have started clicking with every step. I write it off to waking up in garbage and press on.\n\nFour hours go by. Nobody picks up hitch hikers in this day and age. My pockets are empty, and I don't bother asking for change. Even if I did find a payphone, I would never remember the number. Another hit from modern consciences. I grin at this thought as I continue my mechanical stride. I'm almost there now.\n\nA knock at the door surprises Joan out of her reverie. She had finally gotten a real man to take interest in her, and they had married. She had two children of her own now, as well as the adopted two. This was probably one of them that had forgotten their keys. She placed her hands onto her knees and pulled herself erect. Walking briskly to the door she calls out, \"Forgot your keys again, dincha Samuel?\" Only to see a haggard face in front of her own. Joan is no slouch, but it takes almost a full minute for the face to click into place and the memories to flood back.\n\nI look onward hungrily as my wife opens the door. Or she should be my wife. Joan stares blankly at me for some time before a look of shock and horror squeeze her face into a rictus of chargrin. \"It's been ten years!\" She exults. \"What are you doing here?\"\n\nTen years?\n\nMy mind twists around itself in agony. \"Ten years!?\" I scream. My mind washes over everything I had been through this day, and all the years of previous devotion. How could she greet me like this? I turn and start to go back down the steps. Anything is better than being treated like this.\n\nThen there is only darkness.\n\nJoan looks down at the image in front of her and says stolidly to herself, \"This time I'm taking the batteries out!\"",
"*1. Have dinner ready when I get home. Have the table set, and have a new bottle of wine uncorked, but not poured on the table.*\n\n*2. Make sure the carpet is vacuumed, the tables and counters are cleaned, and everything is where it's supposed to be.*\n\n*3. If you have to go to the store, go only there. Talk to as few people as possible, and bring back the receipt.*\n\n*4. Be in the bedroom. Have Emily and James in their cribs, fed, bathed, and quiet. DO NOT come out and greet me when I get home. Have your hair washed, your face shaved, and be in bed.*\n\n*5. If I text you and tell you I am having company, go into the safe, take out some money, and go to the Residence Inn for the night.*\n\n*6. Make sure there is a pack of Marlboro Extra Lights waiting on the counter.* \n\nAnd Finally, \n\n*7. Be Good.*\n\nAlmost 10 years now. Almost 10 years now and the rules, each word, each letter are still ingrained in my brain. \n\nDon't get me wrong, I know that Cindy took pleasure in controlling my every waking moment. I know that it was her fetish. \n\nBut I also know that it was what was best for me. I needed to have structure, to follow rules. She was protecting me.\n\nWe made the best of it. If nothing else, I took care of my kids. Even though we were in that ratty double wide in that old trailer park, and we were barely given enough money to eat with, we had fun. \n\nSometimes I wouldn't be good, and Cindy wouldn't come home for days. \n\nBut mostly, it was okay.\n\nAll these years and I still can't go to sleep at night without seeing their faces; my babies, lying there in their cribs. Laughing and giggling when I tickled their feet, or spitting on the floor and making a mess as I tried to feed them. \n\nWe'd play that game where I'd scoop them up in the blanket and shake them all around, and they'd laugh and laugh until I lay down on the floor and they could crawl over me and smoosh my face.\n\nIt was good, and someday, maybe when Cindy was a little happier at work, and things had died down a bit, we'd be like a real family. We'd go on vacation and go out to eat. We'd move out of the park to a nice neighborhood in the suburbs. \n\nSomeday. \n\nBut on that day, James just wouldn't stop crying. He'd been up all night, and he felt like he had a fever. He was okay the day before, but with the shuffling between the Hotel and home I think he'd gotten run down, and that day the fever was worse, and he wouldn't eat, and he wouldn't stop crying. \n\nI'd done my best, I'd cleaned the house and fed Emily, I'd prepared dinner. But I kept having to go back to James, and I hadn't slept. \n\nI was so tired. \n\nOne moment I was taking out the bottle of wine, holding James in one arm, Emily asleep in her crib, and I remember that I just needed to rest. So I sat down on the couch, just for a moment, I still had an hour before Cindy came home, and everything was set, everything except...\n\n---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------\n\nCindy always was very secretive about her past, about her family, where she was from. But I knew about her husband, David. I knew what he'd done to her, and I knew how unhappy she was with him.\n\nOf course the rest was always sort of a game. In that place, that wretched hell hole of a place, our relationship wasn't allowed. So we had to be secretive, we had to keep it from everyone else, and if I did good, if I did exactly as she said, she promised to take me away from there.\n\nI was so vulnerable then, so willing to accept everything and anything she'd say just for her companionship, just to make her happy, and just to get out. \n\nI knew she was a little crazy too, just like me. And I knew we were meant to be together, she'd always told me so. If only there wasn't David.\n\nAnd then that night I'd gotten out. I hadn't been good.\n\nShe was really nice about everything. We'd moved into the trailer park, and she'd said it'd just be for awhile, until she could figure things out, and until things died down a bit. And I was okay there, happy she was helping me. \n\nI always knew how much she'd wanted to help me. She'd get so anxious and freak out, but she cared so much. \n\nOne day she came home and told me she was pregnant.\n\n----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------\n\nIt was the cigarettes. \n\nI'd awoken that day and looked at the clock: 5 minutes until she'd be home. It was okay, I'd thought, everything was set, I just needed to lay out the cigarettes and get to bed. \n\nI'd gone to the cabinet. It was empty. \n\nI remember the panic, how did I forget to restock? \n\nI'd run out. I didn't have a car, but the supermarket wasn't so far. So I ran and ran, I ran as hard as I could, until my lungs were exploding and finally, after what seemed like forever, I got there. \n\nI got the cigarettes. \n\nI rushed home. Cindy's car wasn't out front when I got there, and I thought maybe she was running late. I rushed in, set the cigarettes on the counter and went to the bedroom to check on the kids. \n\nI should have noticed that James hadn't been crying when I got back and how quiet everything was...\n\n----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------\n\nCindy was always smarter than me. She'd always lead the way. \n\nShe'd changed her name, and so I changed mine. I grew a beard, put on some weight, and I searched. I searched for so long. \n\nAfter awhile I was able to get a job, and then another. I travelled across the country working, and looking. \n\nSometimes, I wasn't good. \n\nI never gave up hope, though. \n\nAnd then, last week I found them. \n\nAfter all this time, wouldn't you know, they were in the suburbs across town. They live in a nice house, with a good yard. Emily and James are so Big! Emily must be an athlete, and James, well I bet he's the studious type. \n\nCindy's new husband is tall, handsome guy. Good smile, full head of blond hair; he looks nice.\n\nI thought about barging in, about handing her the pack of cigarettes and doing to her husband what I'd done to David. \n\nBut he looked nice, and she looked happy, even content. \n\nCindy had always wanted to help me, but I'd broken the rules. She'd been right to leave. \n\nAnd now she's happy, and my kids are happy. \n\nI think that I'll leave them alone. I think that they deserve to be happy, even if I can't. \n\nSo here I am, back in the trailer park across town, following those 7 rules, even though Cindy isn't coming home. \n\nI follow the rules, and I try so hard. \n\nI wonder every day if Cindy would maybe like to see me, and the kids, I'd love to meet them too, to talk to them. \n\nAnd everyday I struggle, and I wonder...\n\n...how long I can be good.",
"The door opened with a creak that was familiar, but I could not recognize the woman standing on the other side. “Um, So Sorry… I must have the wrong apartment”, I offered, and stepped back to look at the door number. At the same time that I saw the brass 12 that indicated that this was indeed my house, the woman fell to her knees, sobbing. “How could you do this to us?”, I heard, between her sobs. The realization hit me, and I was filled with dread, even though all this still made no sense to me. “Ir… Irene?”, I stammered, and knelt beside her, opening her hands that were still covering her face. It was her, but.. But it was not. I backed away from her with a jerk. Then, I heard nothing. I could only see her features contort, a popping vein in her forehead, spit flying everywhere as she screamed. Irene did not look like this, she was much younger, but somehow I knew she was in front of me. \n\nSuddenly, I saw a pair of arms on Irene’s shoulder, and looked up. There, leaning over her, was my daughter, but much older. I staggered back until I could manage to get on my feet, and just ran. My heart was beating faster than ever, and then everything went black.\n\nWhen I woke up, I was in a bed, in my bed. “What a wierd dream”, I sighed, and walked out of the room. I saw her, and was struck by a familiar feeling of despair. “After all this time… Why do you come here now?”, she said, holding back tears. It took me a while to find my voice. “Irene, I… What happened? I just went out and came back.. Why is everything so different? Why do you look so different?” “That’s what happens in ten years, asshole”, she retorted back.”You think I’m the one who looks different? You don’t look that great either”. I touched my face, and it felt foreign. I ran to the mirror, and saw a different man, an old man. “What happened?”. Irene stood at the door, a puzzled look on her face. She launched into a tirade about how I was a horrible man, how I could leave them without a word, no indication. Eventually, I found it in me to respond. “Irene, I don’t .. I don’t know what you’re talking about. I just went out for a cigarette ten minutes ago.”, I managed to stammer. Irene’s face softened immidiately. She took my arm and sat me on the bed. She hugged me and started weeping into my shoulder.\n\nA few months have passed since the incident. It’s still quite puzzling. I’m still trying to figure out what happened, and why my wife removed all the calendars from the house.\n",
"Imagine you’re watching a movie and 20 mins in you get a call from work making you leave the cinema hall for an hour until the issue is resolved and you come back to resume watching but now nothing makes sense anymore. The pair you thought were cousins are making out. That kind looking gentleman who reminded you of your dad is apparently the bad guy who killed strippers for fun. It makes you wonder what exactly happened in that 1 hour of the movie you missed.\n\nWhat if this happens in your real life? I ask because it did in mine. At first I thought it was a prank. Maybe she had put some makeup on to make her look 10 years older. And the whole “What the fuck are you doing here after all this time?” bit was a great way to begin the act even when I was gone for only 10 mins. It was only after I saw my kids who looked like familiar faces but had doubled in size did I realize something has gone wrong with the whole space-time continuum. How could my life fast forward 10 years?\n\nIt was just like any other day. I had been smoking quite a lot since past few months because of the stress at work. So, like always I left home at around 6 pm to get a pack of cigarettes and came home at 6:10, which was apparently 10 mins and 10 years later. How could that have happened? My family thought I had abandoned them for 10 years and my wife’s or should I say my ex-wife’s husband manhandled me and kicked me out of the house.\n\nHow could this have happened? If I had a penny for everytime I asked this question, I’d be richer than OECD’s combined GDP. At one point I thought I was a mental patient suffering from severe schizophrenia but I could remember everything else except for those 10 years. I have been living on the streets for over 12 years now. And I remember every single day. I even remember my past very vividly. Susie - the first girl I had kissed. Jane - the girl who broke my heart. And I also remember the entire periodic table which I learnt in my 4th grade. \n\nI had no answer. I had shared my story everywhere but no one believed me. They all thought I was some mentally challenged bum who has lost his grip with reality. Months passed by and so did my bickering. What else could I do? Go to the police and say what? I’m reporting a theft of 10 years of my life? My family didn’t want to do anything with me. So I basically had nothing. I had given up. The whole mystery would never be revealed to me and I had made my peace with it. All I was waiting for was my death.\n\nUntil one day I met someone and everything changed. I couldn’t sleep in the cold NYC winter. I hadn’t eaten in 3 days. Just when I was about to jump into a trash can to look for leftovers, I saw a young gentleman walking in my direction. He had a good built. He was wearing an Armani jacket like I used to back in the old days. In fact as I looked closely - it was the exact beige colored Armani jacket which I had. It even had a missing button on its breast pocket. Just when I thought it couldn’t get weirder than this, the street lamp shone on his face and a familiar looking face emerged - mine. His blue eyes met mine and said, “I’ve come from the past. And we have some work to do.”",
"\"Don't do it Dad!\"\n\nI looked at the small, round face staring up at me, her long pigtails flopping to either side as she hugged my leg. Her eyes were brimming with tears. \n\n'I... I have to,' I muttered, looking at the far wall as I tried to avoid my daughter's gaze. \n\n\"Dad, we don't know when you will come back this time!\" my son pleaded.\n\nI flinched slightly and covered my ears, as his voice suddenly seemed amplified. I shuffled back a few steps, my daughter still clinging to my leg. I realized my hands were trembling, and I tried to rub them to stop the shaking.\n\n'I have not had a stick for too long. I need one now. Don't worry, I won't take long.' I knew I did not sound convincing. I looked up for my wife's support, and realized she had been sitting on the couch, quiet all this while, with a look of resignation on her face. \n\n---\n\nThe government had stepped up its anti-smoking regulations by implementing a time-delay device for any purchases of cigarettes. Basically, you step into a machine, enter your purchase, and the machine warps you forward in time at random. It was their way of trying to disincentivize smoking.\n\nDid it work? For some people, they get lucky and only get warped forward a few hours. For my previous few trips, I've been usually warped forward only a few days, with my longest being 2 weeks. My kids did not like that too much - who would like it when your father disappeared for an unknown period of time?\n\nThey didn't understand my struggle. Do they know how much I am dependent on the cigarettes? Do they know the pain I endure when I do not smoke? I can't concentrate, I have difficulties breathing, I feel cold even when the fan is turned off. I need my sticks.\n\n---\n\nI entered the shop, and waved at the cashier as I declared my intent 'Cigarettes please.'\n\nThe middle-aged man glanced at me with a look of skepticism. He signalled me to the machine behind the store. \n\nI grunted in thanks, as I made my way to the machine. God, please let this be a quick one. I stepped in, keyed in my purchase, and closed my eyes to wait for the familiar buzzing and spinning sensation.\n\n---\n\nWhen is this? \n\nEverything looked different, as I made my way home. I walked past many unfamiliar shops, and some of the paths and roads were not what I recalled.\n\nWhen I arrived at my door, I realized the keys didn't work. What the hell. I rang the doorbell instead, and waited.\n\nThe door opened, and I was greeted by a familiar-looking teenage girl. When she saw me, her eyes widened, and her mouth fell open. She flung her arms around me in a tight embrace, as I stumbled back a few steps. Who is this?\n\nShe released me after a few moments, and turned to the house. 'Mom!' she yelled. 'Mom!! It's Dad!' she repeated with urgency.\n\nI saw my wife appear around the corner, with a middle-aged man behind her. She had a similar reaction as the girl, but her face quickly twisted into a look of betrayal and disgust. \n\n\"Ten years. You were gone for TEN YEARS,\" she spat out. The man behind her had a look of concern, and he put his arm around my wife, as if to comfort her. What's this man doing with my wife? \n\nI wanted to step in, but a burly-looking teenage boy came out from the kitchen and stood in front of me. Son? The girl who gave me a hug retreated hesitantly into the house, glancing at my wife. \n\n\"Go away,\" my wife said with finality, her eyes burning with loathe. The girl's eyes swelled with tears. The man seemed smug, as he stood casually next to her. \n\nBefore I could protest, the teenage boy closed the door on my face, as my mind was still reeling from what just happened. \n\nI rang the doorbell a few more times, but all I heard were muffled sobs from behind the door.\n\nI stepped out into the street, trying to make sense of what happened. Who is that man? Were those my children? Did I really warp ten years ahead?\n\nThe questions swarmed my mind, as my fingers subconsciously found their way into my pocket and fished out a cigarette. \n\nLet me first take a puff. \n\n\n",
"I'd gotten a raise. That was the start of it. Five years of no bonus. Five years of \"Things are tight, Ray. You know how it is.\" Five of my best years of giving a damn. And finally - finally - Levenson called me into his office and patted me on the back. \n\n\"It's been a good year, Ray,\" he said. \"A real good year.\"\n\nAnd I said, \"Good enough for a raise?\" I said it every year, because every year had seemed like a pretty goddamn good year from where I was sitting on the bottom floor. \n\nNormally, old Gil Levenson hemmed and hawed and shook out his shaggy, white head. \"Afraid not. Afraid not,\" he'd say. But not this time.\n\n\"You're damn right it was,\" he said, eyes gleaming like a madman. \"How's fifteen percent suit you? Only wish it could be more, after all these years.\"\n\nFifteen was plenty. Hell, you could've flopped the decimal point around wherever you liked and I still would've been pleased as punch. *Fifteen percent?* Goddamn.\n\n\"Go home early. Celebrate!\" And old Gil kicked up his feet, stretched out like a pig on a spit. \"Time to start livin'.\"\n\nI went home. But first, I stopped at the Quikpump on Lawson. I wanted something special. Something for *me*. \n\nNow, don't get the wrong impression. We'd bled as a family all those years. Scrimped and saved and struggled like baby turtles on the beach. Hardly a word of complaint, except once or twice from Joey and Sandy. And they're still kids, after all. It's only natural.\n\nSo that money was for all of us. Me and Cheryl and Joe and Sand. But I *needed* something. Something just for me. Because as much as we'd all sacrificed, I was the one on the front lines. I did the work. I aged 20 years in five, working ungodly hours, listening to idiots, letting suited-up jackasses take all the credit. \n\nWhen I walked out of Levenson's office I was excited, yeah, but bone tired, too. Like I had half the blood I ought've. \n\nSo I needed something for me. I'd earned it.\n\nI bought a six pack, but that wasn't the thing. In truth, I didn't know what the thing was until I saw it, hovering up above, leering down at me from over the cashier's head. \n\n\"What's that black pack?\" I asked. It was a pack of cigarettes. The box was jet black with faint, silver writing. I sometimes smoked when I drank, and suddenly I was craving both.\n\n\"Kingshead Black,\" said the cashier. He didn't make a move to open the case. \"They're kind of expensive. Never really sell any. Not sure why they're even up there, to be honest.\" \n\n\"How expensive?\"\n\n\"Two hundred.\"\n\nI blinked. \"For a *crate*?\"\n\nThe cashier shook his head, obviously embarrassed. \"For the pack.\"\n\n\"Why so much?\"\n\nHe shrugged. \"Just...real good, I guess? I don't smoke.\"\n\n\"Neither do I.\" I tapped the glass. \"I'll take 'em.\"\n\nIt took another three minutes to convince the cashier I was serious. By then I was getting agitated. \"How much more of my time are you gonna waste?\" \n\nI bought the cigarettes. \n\nInside my car, I held the pack up under the dome light and tried to read the print. I could only make out one line: *FOR THE MAN WHO'S THROUGH WAITING AROUND.* What could be more perfect?\n\nI cracked the window and pulled out the first cigarette. The paper was gray. The butt was almost red. It was pretty, in its own way. It looked like a $200 cigarette ought to.\n\nI wasn't prepared for the taste. Almond and ginger. A sweet, burning spiciness that crawled down my throat like a drunken spider. I didn't cough, though. Usually, the first cigarette makes me cough, but not this one. Again, just how a disgustingly expensive cigarette should be. \n\nI smoked the whole pack in a sitting. \n\nDidn't feel sick afterwards or anything. Just invigorated. Alive. Like the life had come back into my limbs. The blood was back in my veins. \n\nTime to get back to living.\n\nI went home. And that's when it all went to shit.\n\nI almost kept going because I didn't recognize the cars in the driveway. Two cars, and neither was Cheryl's Jeep. \n\nThen my keys didn't work. The doorbell wasn't right either. I was just about to leave, convinced I'd forgotten my own house number, when the door opened. Cheryl came out.\n\n\"Ray?\"\n\nShe looked wrong. Shorter hair, heavier, weird, thick eye make-up. She looked older.\n\n\"What's going on?\" I asked, trying to step through the door, only to find that Cheryl wouldn't move. Her face was drooping - settling down from surprise to one of her more familiar expressions: anger.\n\n\"What the fuck kind of nerve do you have coming here?\" \n\nI laughed. Not to be cruel or a shithead or anything. My brain just told me it was the cigarettes. I smelled like cigarettes. Cheryl hated me smoking, but she let it slide as long as the kids never found out. Can't have them knowing that Daddy's a hypocrite. \n\n\"Sorry, I was celebrating,\" I said, trying to get around her again. \"I'll chuck the clothes and take a quick shower. They won't know anything.\" She put her hands out protectively, holding her position in the doorframe. \"I've got great news,\" I added, pretty pathetically. \n\n\"I don't give a shit,\" she growled. \"After all these years? Get the fuck out of here!\"\n\n\"What?\"\n\nThere was a kid in the doorway behind her then, a bulky, zitted-up teenager in a hoodie. \"Dad?\"\n\n\"What the hell is this?\" I said, louder than I should have. I was angry, though. Angry and confused. \"Who are you?\"\n\nThe teen pushed past Cheryl. His eyes ran me up and down. \"You haven't changed at all.\"\n\nI turned back to Cheryl. \"Who is this kid in our house?\"\n\n\"It's Joey, asshole,\" said Cheryl. \"Now get out of here before I call the cops!\"\n\n\"Joey?\"\n\nThe teen cocked his head. \"Where the hell did you go?\"\n\n\"Go? *Go*? I went to work, goddamnit! I went to fucking *work*! What is happening here?\"\n\n\"Cheryl? Cheryl? Get in the house.\" Someone else was there. A man. He swung a sturdy lumberjack belly through the doorway and pushed Cheryl and the teenager back into the house. \"Go call the police. And stay inside.\"\n\n\"Who the fuck are you?\" I bellowed. \"Get the fuck out of my house!\"\n\nThe man looked like he has halfway through his transition into Santa Claus. He was doughy, but big enough where it counted to make me nervous. \n\n\"You're Ray, I'm guessing?\"\n\nI clenched my fists, ready to swing any second. \"This is my fucking *house* and I'm getting tired of whatever this stupid, fucking game is. Now step aside so I can go home.\"\n\nSanta just shook his head. \"No, Ray. Not anymore. This hasn't been your house for a decade now. Ever since you left.\"\n\n\"*Left*? I went to work!\"\n\n\"I don't give a shit *where* you went,\" said Santa, taking one step forward. \"But you left. Without a word. Without a dollar of support.\" He pointed toward the house. \"They moved on. Don't do this.\"\n\n\"This is insane!\" I could see the neighbors, standing in their windows, clutching curtains in their little paws. None of them were gonna stand up for me. No one was gonna vouch for my life and my work and my fucking sacrifice. \n\n\"I didn't leave,\" I hissed. \"I went to work. Like I always do. I went to work and I put in my ten fucking hours and got *nowhere*.\" I circled past Santa, slapping the warped siding. \"Small fucking house. No fucking savings. Nothing. Nothing at all. I'm dying, every goddamn day, and there's *nothing* to show for it. They're eating me alive.\"\n\n\"That why you left?\" said Santa, nodding towards the house. \"'Cause they weren't good enough for you? They weren't worth the effort?\"\n\n\"I didn't leave!\" I howled. \"Don't you get it? That's the whole fucking point! I've been letting them eat my goddamn soul for the people in this fucking house! And I'd do it again! And again! And *again*! But it's pointless... I don't get what I deserve, and my family doesn't get what they deserve. And life... all of it... it just keeps draining away... draining away with nothing to show for it.\"\n\nSanta shook his head. I could see Cheryl in the window. And the boy... it *was* Joey. And there was a teenage girl there, too. It was Sandy, and she was beautiful and awkward and wonderful. And I realized how much Joey looked like his mother and how much of his size was muscle, and it made me wonder if he played football like he'd always wanted. And then I was terror stricken to think it was all real. That I'd missed it. That I'd lost it. The pee wee football games. The dance recitals. The successes and the failures and the ceaseless, unstoppable growth.\n\nI fell to my knees, stomach flexing and roiling. I could feel Santa standing over me.\n\n\"Is that really what you think?\" he said. \n\nI puked. I puked more than I think I've ever done. And when it was over, I felt a hand on my back.\n\n\"Christ, buddy, what'd you eat?\"\n\nI looked around and realized I was in the little alley behind the Quikpump. A heavyset trucker in overalls was patting my back. \"Fuck. Just let it all out. Good as new in no time.\"\n\nI belched painfully. \"Shit. Thanks.\"\n\n\"You, uh... you done?\"\n\nThings turned over in my mind. Righted themselves. Flipped like playing cards and revealed their true suits. \n\n\"Yeah, yeah. Thanks.\"\n\nThe trucker shook his head. \"You need an ambulance or anything?\"\n\n\"No. Just overdid it a bit.\" \n\nThe trucker nodded. \"Celebration?\"\n\nI spat out a wad of whatever remained. \"No, no. Just... disappointing news today. I thought I might get a raise, but... I didn't.\"\n\n\"Economy's shit,\" said the trucker, his empathy genuine. \"But as long as we've got enough to get by, right?\"\n\n\"Exactly,\" I said, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand. \"I think that's exactly right. What difference does a couple bucks make when you've got a good family at home?\"\n\n\"None at all,\" he said with a smile. \"None at all.\" "
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[WP] A game of D&D but the dungeon master is a warden and the players are Maximum security inmates
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"Normally the wardens didn't socialise with the inmates, and they DEFINITELY didn't do so from the same side of the bars. However, Warden Isk was different than most. He had no fear. Some thought it was his experience from the wars. Others just assumed it was the large - if ancient - piece he kept at his side and in-hand at all times.\n\nWhatever the case, the warden LOVED D&D, and today - lacking any others to play with - he was introducing the inmates to the game.\n\n\"The main rule, \" the warden intoned solemnly, \"is that the DM is the boss, and I am the DM. I'll play fair if you follow the rules and keep in role, but you'll be in deep crap otherwise. Also, how you play has consequences here in real life, so treat the game seriously.\"\n\nThe others glared up at him but kept silent. Rog rubbed his bulbous nose but stayed silent, while Shortie, Tall-boy and Slick grumbled but kept the peace.\n\n\n\"So, you all start out in a small town. It's night. There's a Smith's in the corner, as well as few other shops around town surrounding a dark alleyway. A lady is sitting by a fountain in the center of town.\"\n\nRog spoke up, \"Is the lady purty? If she is, I wanna talk ta her.\"\n\nThe warden checked his bag and pulled out a picture of a woman. \"What do you think,\" he answered \"Is she's pretty enough? What do you want to wanna ask?\"\n\nRog grinned. \"Er, I wanna spend da night wit her. Can I do it?\"\n\nAt this, Tall-boy chuckled. \"You stupid. You're a Orc. Nobody's gonna spend the night with you.\"\n\nRog's grin slipped away. \"Not a troll this game, r'member? I wanna try!\"\n\nWarden Isk handed him the dice, a pair of D10's. \"You roll higher than 60, you can spend the night with her and more!\"\n\nRog's grin returned. He picked up the dice and quickly tossed them. 78! \"I gots it! I gots it!\", he howled.\n\nThe warden passed over the picture. \"Here, you can have it all night.\" \n\nRog's grin grew even wider as he cradled the picture to his chest.\n\n\"On second though,\" said the warden, \"maybe you should just keep that one.\"\n\nNow Slick was starting to get interested. VERY interested, based on the bulge in his pants. \"Slick wants a pretty lady too! Where can I find a pretty lady for Slick?!\"\n\n\"Look around,\" said the DM, \"You never know what you'll find.\"\n\n\"Hum. Er. Slick likes dark alleys. let me look in the alley.\", said the criminal.\n\nThe DM smile at this and he pulled another picture from his bag. This lady was pretty too, if not as wholesome looking as the first. \"Well what do you know Slick, there IS a woman in the alleyway. She might even give you what you want, for a brass coin.\"\n\n\"Slick wants the lady!\". He reached into his dirty pocket and pulled out some money, passing it to the warden. \n\nThe warden grinned an evil grin, \"but Slick, you still need to roll the dice.\"\n\n\"Why should Slick roll dice? I paid!\", countered the filthy criminal.\n\n\"Because,\" said the warden, hand outstretched with both dice and picture, \"it's the game. Don't worry, you can still have the lady, but you have to play the game.\"\n\n\"Fine. Slick'll roll the stupid dice.\" With that, he quickly snatched both pictures and dice, then tossed the dice on the floor.\n\nThe dice rolled a bit, wobbled, then settled on a three, and a four.\n\n\"Ooooh, bad luck Slick! You should know better than to sleep with whores. You got the girl, but you also got the pox! That's 50 damage!\" And with that, he quickly whipped out his truncheon and slammed it into Slick's groin.\n\nEyes widening, Slick let out a wheeze of pain. Grabbing his crotch, he nearly tipped over sideways. Before he fell overly completely though, he managed to right himself.\n\n\"That hurt!\", he exclaimed. \"I wanna attack the bad lady!\"\n\nThe warden pointed once again at the dice. Still grimacing, Slick grabbed them and tossed immediately. This time, he got two ones.\n\n\"Oh Slick. Even worse luck. The bad lady sprays you in the eyes.\" With this the warden tossed a noxious substance in Slick's face, \"that's another 49 damange, and now the guards are coming!\"\n\nAs Slick fell over screaming, the other inmates stood up. Rog grabbed the dice. \"Rog is lucky! Rog will help Slick!\"\n\nThe dice went flying. They rolled, tilted, spun, and landed on two ones.\n\n\"Bad luck for you both! 20 Damage for Rog!\", exclaimed the warden as he smacked Rog in the face with his Truncheon.\n\n\"And 100 damage for Slick!\"\n\n\nThe truncheon dropped. Warden Isk dropped it and reached for the piece at his side. Hefting his silver Axe, he lopped Slick's head off in a clean swipe.\n\n\n\"No HP left. You're dead Slick.\"\n\nGesturing with the Axe, he backed the remaining prisoners against the wall.\n\n\"Now I'm a bit thirsty after all the excitement, so I think we'll call it a night. We can continue playing next week, and I trust you all will remember about the consequences next time.\"\n\nAs he brandished the axe, the three remaining felons quickly fled, their feet flapping against the cobblestones as they ran into the recesses of the dungeon. The warden grinned.\n\n\"Slick, you can get up now\"\n\nSlowly, Slick raised himself to his feet. Already a new head was quick filling the space that the old one vacated.\n\n\"Did Slick do good?\", asked Slick, his voice slightly off-pitch due to the currently undersized mouth.\n\n\"Yeah, Slick, you did good. Here's your reward\", said Isk as he tossed a package at the feet of the slimy troll.\n\nAs Slick picked up the package, the Warden reminded him:\n\n\"Now just remember not to tell anyone else about our little deal. But try to find more players too.I get bored playing Daggers & Death-lords without a fresh crowd now and then.\"\n\nLooking up at scaly figure towering above him, Slick smiled. \"No problem boss. Next time I find some Goblins. Orcs is fun, but Halflings and Elves is boring\"\n\n\"Sounds good, Slick\", smiled the half-Dragon warden. \"Let those three spread word. The rewards will still draw a crowd, but I don't think ANYONE will forget about the consequences after our little display tonight\"\n\nThen - whistling an off-pitch tune - he locked the dungeon then headed back to check his hoard and plan the next game-night.",
"As an aspiring writer, I've held a lot of day jobs to make ends meet: accountant, barista, cashier, dog walker, professional porno extra, pizza delivery guy. You name it, I probably did it. But the weirdest job, and the most gratifying, was Dungeon Master in prison.\n\n****\n\n\"You want me to what.\" I eyed the man sitting across the plastic folding table.\n\n\"I know it's not exactly what we said in the job description,\" said the warden, \"but the inmates can use a bit of intellectual recreation.\"\n\n\"Buddy, you're so far away from what the job description that it's a job verbal irony.\"\n\n\"It's not that far,\" he sighed, \"you're a creative writing instructor. And part of that involves getting people to creatively tell stories. This is exactly that, only, you know, without writing it down. We've had a few issues with sharp pencils in recent years.\"\n\n\"Yeah, but I thought you meant like writing poetry about the anguish and isolation of maximum security prison or, or, or personal condolence letters to their victims. And, and, and I thought it would be over video conference or email or something! I didn't think I'd have to be there, with those, those brutes, *in person*.\"\n\nBy this point, I had worked myself up into such a froth that I knocked over my flimsy chair and started pacing back and forth. This was supposed to be *the job*, the one that pulled me out of crippling debt without having to be naked again, the one that is actually in line with the job I want to have. I needed this job, but not at the expense of my life.\n\n\"Mister Patterson,\" he pleaded, \"please, just have an open mind about this? You're the only person who's agreed to even come in for an interview. Just try it out for the first month and if it really doesn't work, we'll pay you in full.\" I stopped pacing. \n\n\"I could do one month\", I thought.\n\n\"Okay,\" I said.\n\nFamous last words.\n\n***\n\nSo I never really played Dungeons and Dragons before. \n\nHow hard could it be? I read a couple guidebook pre-built missions and they're straightforward enough. A bunch of people pretending to be things other than people walk into a dark and creepy room filled with treasure and monster things. You roll some dice, some monsters do some stuff, they roll some dice, they kill some monsters and loot the treasure. Like video games, but it's all in your head. Easy mode.\n\nTo say I was woefully unprepared for our first session is a massive understatement.\n\nIt started off well enough. I passed through security unscathed. The guard, whose name tag read \"Alex Gutierrez\", gave me a nod and a cheerful hello as he opened the gate to the tiny visitor's room adjoining the containment cell. And lo and behold, none of the five inmates inside were strangling each other or yelling obscenities at me through the bulletproof plexi-glass. It did, however, worry me a little that there was an empty chair.\n\n\"Tiny Tim has some indigestion. Cafeteria food ain't quite three Michelin stars yet,\" said a tall lanky man, when he noticed my puzzled expression. Ahh. That explained it.\n\nI grabbed the chair in the visitor's room, spun it around and sat on it backwards, just like the inmates. I figured, anything to make me seem like I belong. Also, the chair back provides better crotch protection in case a the bulletproof plexi-glass isn't as resilient as TV cop dramas make them seem. I took a deep breath.\n\n\"Hello, uh, everyone,\" I said, \"My name is Chris Patterson and I will be your, uh, creative writing coach slash Dungeon Master. I think it's a good time to introduce yourselves to me and, I dunno, maybe tell me a little something about your characters and we can get right into it.\"\n\n\"Shi-iit,\" said the big bulky guy to my left, \"this asshole never DM'd before in his life.\"\n\n****\n\nA/N: Augh this is looking like it'll be longer than I intended and it's crazy late already. I'll have to pick this up tomorrow.\n\nEDIT: [Part 2](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/5otp6u/wp_a_game_of_dd_but_the_dungeon_master_is_a/dcnk4ux/)",
"\"You see an orcish berserker cornering a young peasant woman on the road. It is gnashing it's teeth at her and laughing. What do you do?\"\n\nTyrone scratched his short beard, looking down at the board with seemily indifferent eyes. Seemily indifferent, that is, until you get a good look at them. A fire blazed behind those eyes, his brow furrowed as he considered his options.\n\nFinally he spoke. \"I beat the shit out him.\"\n\n\"Uh... Are you sure about that?\" Tyrone's character (who is also called Tyrone) didn't actually have any weapons or armor. He wielded a sock with a in it brick instead, using it as a improvised flail.\n\n\"Did I fucking stutter? I beat the shit out of the orcish berserker.\" \n\n\"Anyone else wanna do anything this turn? Brooks? Pedro?\" The two other men in cell seven (one of them tall with bushy, oily hair and matching beard; the other bald and squat) shrug.\n\n\"Actually, I would like to check for any nearby litter or trash that I could pick up. We all have to do our part to keep Mother Earth clean, after all,\" Brooks said. \n\n\"There is nothing in the vincinity that would stand out. The forest is completely pristine and almost untouched by human hands.\"\n\nBrooks stared at me, \"Are you sure?\"\n\n\"Yes. I'm certain.\"\n\n\"Okay.\" He said, without blinking.\n\n\"Can I roll my fucking dice now, please?\", Tyrone had the d20 held between his thumb and index finger. \n\n\"Yes. Roll.\"\n\nIt was a crit. \"Your... sock... impacts with the orc's forehead, knocking him down in one hit. He is dead. What do you do?\"\n\nTyrone tapped his finger on the table. \"I will rape his dead corpse.\"\n\n\"Okay you... Wait what?\"\n\n\"Did I fucking stutter?\", he barked.\n\n\"No... No, I heard you loud and clear... but... I mean, I don't think this is the kind of game where you can do that. You're suppose to be the 'hero' after all. They don't really do that kind of stuff.\"\n\nTyrone sighed. \"I wish to use the dead body of my enemy for carnal catharsis. What is fucking wrong with that?\"\n\n\"Okay, fine. Roll the dice.\"\n\n\"Great,\" he grinned, \"and after this I'll drench my weapon in his blood to apply a +2 damage boost. Just like the vikings did.\"\n\nI sighed. \"Pedro? Brooks?\"\n\n\"I wish to plant a tree. I take a cutting from one of the great oaks nearby and plant it on the ground. I nurture it with the blood of the dead orc.\"\n\n\"Pedro?\"\n\n\"Is the young peasant woman still there?\", he breathes heavily. \"If so, then I'll kill her and loot her skin.\"\n\nI stare at the small, mustachioed man. *Why did I think it would've been a good idea to step into the same room as these psychopaths?* I sighed. \"Sure. Go ahead.\"\n\n\"Uh... Don't I need to roll the dice?\"\n\n\"No. Just... just take her fucking skin.\"\n\nPedro took a playing card out and writes the words, 'Human skin' on it using a felt pen. He rubs the playing card against his cheeks happily and mutters something underneath his breath.\n\n\"Uh. DM?\", Tyrone says hesitantly. He points to the dice on the table. A critical failure?\n\n\"The orcish berserker wakes up as you... he wakes up and hits you with a nasty surprise attack, before bleeding out.\"\n\n\"Did he just cut my dick off? Is that what your trying to say?\"\n\n\"Uh. Sure let's go with that.\"\n\nA vein bulges out in his forehead. His eyes become misty with tears. \"I'm a monster. A dickless abomination!\" His massive chest heaves as he sobs uncontrollably.\n\nBrooks puts a hand on his shoulder. \"I'm sure there's a Eunuch's support group around here somewhere. Cheer up, man.\"\n\nPedro reaches up to put a flabby hand on Tyrone's forearm. \"Here, my friend,\" he hands him his card. \"You will need this to hide your true nature.\"\n\n\n"
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[WP] A graveyard is an odd place to meet someone. And yet, here you both are.
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"\"This your idea of some sick joke?\" Katie said.\n\nJessica shrugged. \"Depends on your brand of humor.\"\n\nKatie bit the inside of her cheek and looked away from Jessica, shaking her head in disbelief. \"What the actual fuck,\" she muttered.\n\n\"Listen.\" Jessica sighed. \"I wasn't thinking. It's just, you know, for old times sake...\" She trailed off as Katie glared at her.\n\n\"Old times are dead and done with. Some of them, *literally* dead.\" Katie jabbed a finger down at the headstone.\n\nMIRANDA PHILLIPS\n\nJessica tried to swallow around the lump in her throat. \"You have to believe me. I didn't know what was going on.\"\n\n\"With your own *girlfriend?*\"\n\n\"All of that happened after I left,\" Jessica said, trying to keep her voice even and calm. \"I know that I can't take back what I did, but if I'd known -\"\n\n\"Oh, is that what we're here for?\" Katie snapped. \"Trying to clear the air? Let everyone know that you're actually a good person?\"\n\n\"I don't care what everyone thinks. I care what *you* think.\"\n\nKatie pressed her lips together. She blinked furiously against the tears welling up in her eyes. \"Why.\"\n\n\"Because it was *us*, you know?\" Jessica pleaded. \"You, me, and Miranda. This was our spot. I cared about you. I still do.\"\n\nKatie's voice was as dark as murder. \"Then why did you leave?\"\n\n\"I couldn't...\" Jessica started over. \"It got too hard, okay? Being in love. I couldn't hurt Miranda.\"\n\nKatie's eyebrows drew together, in confusion this time. \"In love?\"\n\nJessica lowered her eyes and shifted away from the headstone slightly. \"With you.\"",
"The following story is semi-autobiographical about my experience losing a bf.\n\nIt had taken me all summer to get here, like my own inner self was willing it to not be true. I got the phone call the day after it happened, Sammy crying into the phone babbling about you and an accident. I made out enough to know what hospital you were at and that you weren’t expected to survive. Talking to Ben that Sunday revealed a little more, like the fact that you left where you were so fast you didn’t put on your helmet. \n\nBen thought you were fleeing for your life. \n\nBen swears you were set up.\n\nI didn’t go to the hospital my love because of your estranged ex-wife. In fact, I was downright warned I’d be in for a fist fight if I did show up, so I kept my distance. \n\nThe day they let you leave us with grace and dignity, I bought a bus ticket to Toronto so I could say goodbye. Once again, I was warned by Ben and Sammy. My heart broke into a million pieces.\n\nI want to thank you, Jay, for leaving me with these words you said to Sammy;\n\n“I should have gone after her,”\n\nI let my own fear of causing a scene keep me from seeing you one last time, and instead I bided my time. I waited patiently until the wounds were no longer raw and I felt it was safe enough to return to say my final words to you.\n\nThat summer I went home to visit family and friends. I saw Ben and we talked about you, a lot. I went to the place where we had our first date; you remember that day. That was the day you put me on the back of your motorcycle and we just rode to the water. When I went back in the summer of 2012, I took an empty box to fill with soil from where we sat. I felt like the soil still had your energy in it.\n\nSo here I sat, at your grave that was still barren of grass, with this box of dirt from Georgian Bay.\n\nFrom the corner of my eye I see a woman approaching, hesitantly, being weary of my presence. Her large sun hat and glasses blocking most of her face from me, but I knew who it was.\n\nNot ready to leave your side just yet, I made room for her to sit with me, and to my surprise she did. We silently sat for a few moments before either of us had any inclination to speak, and I was the first one to break the silence.\n\n“I knew him through Sammy and Ben. He was a good man and I’m sorry for your loss,”\n\n“Thank you,” She replied, “I also know who you are, and what you meant to him. Your picture was the background on his phone when he died,”\n\nWe sat quietly for a moment, when she finally said, “Thank you for loving him when I no longer could.”\n",
"\"So... come here often?\"\n\n\"Oh, shut it, Ethan. I'm sure this is a blast for you, but I've got a cranky three year-old waiting for dinner.\" \n\n\"Ooooh, tasty. Did you lure it or steal it?\" \n\nAllie tossed him a shovel. \"Legitimately summoned, thank you. Which--incidentally--is why we're here tonight.\" \n\n\"And here I thought you just wanted to cuddle.\" Ethan spared a wink and drove his shovel earthward. Rime crackled into snowdust. \n\n\"That's a cute way of saying 'fuck.'\" \n\n\"Isn't it?\" \n\nThe icy ground was hard to shovel, and exertion quickly replaced conversation. An hour passed before the earth began to soften. Great shovelfuls of soil piled up beside the grave, sending whispers of steam into the deepening night. Allie pushed a boot against the shovel and dug out another mass. \n\n\"How deep did they dig this thing?\" Ethan grunted.\n\n\"Deep. They didn't take chances with these kinds of corpses. Lots of superstition around soothsayers and such. Thought she'd claw their way out and walk around, I suppose.\"\n\n\"It'd save us a hell of a lot of effort if she did.\" \n\nAllie nodded.\n\nIt was another three hours before they finally hit the box. Allie swept dirt from the top with her forearm. \n\n\"This it?\" \n\n\"Sure is.\"\n\nEthan let loose a low whistle. The five-by-five crate was livid with glyphs, bound in dark, gleaming wood that looked--for all its hundred-odd years--like it had sat in the ground for less than a day. A strip of black wax seamed the lid to the crate. \n\n\"Well, Allie. I believe this is your area of expertise. Hope you don't mind if I vacate while you do your thing.\" \n\n\"What, not feeling so cuddly now?\"\n\n\"I like living. Call it a character flaw.\" \n\n\"Alright. Go on and climb out. I'll wait until you're clear.\"\n\nEthan sunk the shovel into the soil and hoisted himself up the edge of the pit. A moment later, ice crunched beneath boots.\n\n\"Okay! Clear!\" \n\nAllie shook her head. She could count on Ethan for a lot of things, but bravery wasn't high on the list. At least she hadn't had to dig alone. The crate, though. That would have to be all her. \n\nShe shook the stiffness from her shoulders and reached for her hex bag. Already, the runes were beginning to glow. ",
"Rook heard the click but failed to register what it meant. Had he not been with three other men, he might have died. But, the other three men knew what was happening, and before Peter knew it, he was immobilized, two of his friends holding him in place while a third slowly crouched to the ground. \n\n\"Another mine. Granite didn't sweep near as well as we thought,\" said the man crouched on the ground.\n\n\"Doesn't matter how well Granite swept, we need to get out of here, ASAP. Live up to your name and help Rook out, Angel,\" came the reply from the man holding Rook from behind. Angel swiftly pulled a Swiss Army knife out of his bag and went to work. Within a minute, the mine was disarmed. \n\nRook stepped off the mine and addressed his friends. \"Jesus, sorry about that one. Wasn't paying near enough attention,\" Rook said in an attempt to apologize. \"Yeah, damn right you weren't, one more move like that and you could kill us all.\" The harsh, deep voice of Spitz came like a punch in the gut. Rook looked dismayed, but then another voice came forward. \"Take it easy, Spitz, there are tons of leaves everywhere. It's the middle of fall and we *are* in a forest.\" Rook knew he could rely on Buckeye to have his back. They had been through basic training together, and shared a bond that was almost unbreakable. \n\n\"Whatever. Let's get moving again. No doubt the safehouse is beginning to wonder what happened to us.\" Spitz began to trudge again, the heavy weight of his assault rifle doing its best to slow him down and marginally succeeding. Rook, Angel, and Buckeye followed suit, catching Spitz and taking point.\n\nThey had just been to the brink of hell, brought back, thrust in again, and then managed to jump out of the frying pan and into the fire, only to come back out on top. The mission was simple, reconnaissance, with a medic, a marksman, a heavy, and a scout, all assigned to certain individual tasks. Angelo Hernandez, nicknamed Angel, was there solely to make sure the exposure wouldn't kill them. They had no comms, limited supplies, and no backup, save for a 24 mile trek back to a safehouse. George \"Spitz\" Banford, the walking armory, was one of the most accomplished soldiers in the entire army, and he was perfect for a small task like this, easily being able to take out anyone that opposed the quartet while on the mission. Brian \"Buckeye\" Michaels was the marksman, and not just any. He had 74 confirmed kills, and was arguably the best long-range sniper in the history of the US Army. 3 of his confirmed kills were among the top 15 longest of all time. His job was to conduct surveillance from a far distance, and to protect the final member, Peter Rook, a scout. He could probably be an Olympic athlete if he wanted, running a 10.12 100m at his fastest. He was also accomplished with just his pistol, nicknamed Rosewood, that he had made custom for himself. There wasn't even a name for the model; he forged Rosewood himself, and was only allowed to use it after putting a hole in a quarter from 50 yards away with the gun's iron sights. \n\nBut as skilled as the team was, things went south. They were deep in enemy territory, sent to a city that was rumored to be hosting numerous leaders of a terrorist organization hellbent on taking down government. The team, codenamed Wormhole, was in the middle of the group's territory, seeing as the terrorists had successfully organized four coup d'etats and simply overthrown three more governments in the space of eight months. So, it was no surprise when they found themselves surrounded by hostiles and had to shoot their way out. Wormhole had managed to retrieve as much data as the cameras could hold, but soon after they were spotted again by a helicopter. Into the fire. But, twelve hours later, four men climbed out of a cave, covered in dirt and other miscellaneous pieces of the Iranian nature, and made the long trek back to the safehouse. \n\nTwo teams, Granite and Slate, had already gone through the area they were about to cross before the op had begun in order to clear the area and make sure the soldiers would be safe after they escaped. The Americans, however, had no comms or satellite in this area, and weren't aware of anti-gov members replanting a mine field in the area that was safe just days before the op started. So, when Wormhole began hiking, they weren't safe. In just about 4 miles, they had detonated 16 mines, spotted about 20 more that were avoidable, and stepped on one. But Wormhole pushed forward, determined to be safe once more. \n\nIt was 19 more miles before nightfall. There was no night vision, but it shouldn't have been needed; they were about a mile out from the safehouse. All they had to do was enter, call the Army, and a helicopter would be there in under an hour to pick them up. But this proved to be the hardest task of all. \n\nThe memories are blurry. A crack ringing out in the dark, Angel falling like a sack of bricks, gasping for air. Grabbing his body, sprinting through the trail to the mountain house. Hearing multiple suppressed shots from behind him, knowing Spitz would protect him, hearing Buckeye occasionally set up and take a shot that was near guaranteed to find the target. Patching up Angel, Spitz on the phone, Buckeye keeping lookout, Rook's hands shaky as he uses the medical equipment Angel had. Angel was just focusing on breathing. \n\nOne memory was vivid. The breaking of a window, the grenade rolling along the floor. Rook forcing himself to remain quiet, to not give away that he was still alive, Spitz coming over and checking him out, looking at Rook with his left eye, as his right had been lost in the explosion, and telling him that he was sorry. Spitz drew his knife and stooped over. Rook looked down at Spitz, saw the knife enter what was left of his leg, and blacked out.\n***\nAll of this from a click. The sound of the wheelchair hitting the concrete curb as he exited the street and entered the grass of the graveyard. He had stopped in front of a couple of graves, more soldiers that had been lost, and had the flashback, all of it flooding back to him in mere seconds. Rook stared straight ahead, blinked, looked at his leg that he had lost 48 years ago. Rook was 83 now, with major brain damage, severe PTSD, depression, and all of the other things that accompanied a soldier in pain. But, he still persevered, refused to stop living, and rolled a little while further. \n\nHe stopped in front of two graves. He knew the words on the headstones word for word, but he read them anyways. \"SPC Angelo Hernandez/AOC 62A/Iranian War/Made To Protect/Did His Job Too Well.\" \"SGT Brian Michaels/Iranian War/Aim High/Hit The Target.\" The words stared at Peter Rook like they wanted to hurt him, to make him remember. Peter looked, over and over and over, sitting there, thinking of everything he did with them, and then hung his head, and stayed that way for what seemed like an eternity. And once that eternity was over, he looked up, and stared at another memory from that fateful day.\n\nSpitz.\n\nThe tension was palpable. Spitz's one eye bore into Peter's two eyes, but his two legs outmatched Peter's one. That was Spitz's doing, in order to save his life; the bone was already shattered, and it took Spitz all of 2 minutes to cut through Peter's leg. He single-handedly defended the house until the chopper came, helped load the bodies of his fallen brothers on board, went home, and was forced to retire from his injuries. Second-degree burns racked the left side of his body, unbeknownst to anyone besides his doctors. He was 86 years old, and retired as a Sergeant Major, far outranking Peter's title of Army Ranger Staff Sergeant. The two hadn't talked in almost half a century.\n\nBut almost as soon as the tension appeared, it broke. George Banford walked over to Peter Rook, and offered him a handshake. No longer brothers. No longer allies. No longer in pain alone. No, they had become something else. It was an unspoken agreement. They had both lost so much, that they could only turn to each other for someone to understand, someone to take refuge on. The pianos of depression lifted from their shoulders as the shake turned to an embrace and the stone faces of the retired soldiers turned to the wet tears of a long-overdue meeting.\n\nNo longer alone.\n\nFriends.",
"She was pretty, he thought.\n\nSure, her eyes were red with crying. Her skin was paled out with grief. Her black hair was limp and uncombed. But there was something inexplicably drawing about her lone figure silhouetted against the misty evening sky.\n\nHe'd been watching her for a while. She stood far apart from the main procession, her gaze fixed on the gravestone the entire time. When he saw her pause to fumble fruitlessly about her purse for a tissue he stepped forward and offered a packet. \n\nShe wiped her eyes and looked away. \"Thanks.\" A watery laugh escaped her as her fringe shadowed her eyes, \"You don't know who I am...do you?\" \n\nHe tilted his head, shoving his hands in the pockets of his coat, \"Should I?\" \n\nHer fingers clenched around a mass of tissues, \"Aren't you one of his so-called family?\" \n\nHe shrugged, \"I'm not.\" \n\n\"Why were you hanging around with them then?\" she frowned, \"Are you a friend of his?\" \n\nHe shook his head. \"I'm...a detective, shall we say.\" \n\nShe glanced up at him, meeting his eyes for the first time. \"A detective...\" she repeated skeptically. \n\n\"Don't expect me to whip out the pipe and the deerstalker, but yes.\" he said distantly, \"Somewhat.\" \n\n\"Are you or aren't you?\" She'd stopped crying. There was something almost aggressive in her gaze. \n\nHe hesitated, gaze tilting towards her before swinging towards the grave, \"...yes.\" He frowned as well. \n\n\"You're a weird person...\" she sniffed. \n\nHe shrugged, \"I can't deny that. What does that make you though? Are you...a 'detective' too?\" he eyed her dully. \n\nHer shoulders shook. \"No. No...I'm not a detective. I...oh, it doesn't matter.\" \n\nA long silence fell between them. A light rain showered down, following the descending coffin into a tomb of mud and worms. \n\nHe rocked back on his toes, turning abruptly away from the ceremony. \"Say, you're not attending the wake later, are you?\" \n\nShe shook her head, \"No...why?\" \n\nHe held out a hand, \"I'd like to know a little more about the deceased. I think you might know a little more than the crap fountains back there.\" he pointed a thumb back at the procession. He offered his palm to her, \"Dinner?\" \n\nShe stared at his hand as if she'd never seen such a thing before. Dryly, she said, \"You're asking a crying woman out to dinner...at a funeral?\" \n\n\"Call it a meeting of mutual benefits.\" he shrugged, \"I have a feeling we can help each other understand why this funeral is happening. In any case, I can compensate you for your time.\" \n\nShe looked down at his hand and observed the name card that had appeared there while she was looking away. She took it gingerly, like how one might pick up a dead rat. But she took the card nonetheless. \n\n\"...I'll think about it.\" \n\n"
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Inspired by CGP Grey's "humans need not apply" video (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7Pq-S557XQU), and in particular, his analogy comparing humanity's future with horses having peak employment in 1915 and now being basically unemployable.
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[WP] 2066 A.D: You've been out of work since your job as a computer programmer was automated years ago. You just spent your last savings dollar on a hamburger.
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"Well, that was over quick, I thought as the robot waiter (his name tag read \"Clive\") came and took away the tray with the remains of my big mac combo. He gave me a shiny metallic smile, that I found hilarious, but I smiled back all the same.\n\nI stepped outside the restaurant in central manhattan, and hailed a cab. I punched in the coordinates of my subsidized housing complex, and the car started moving on its own. It was nice that there was no driver in cars anymore, I thought. I was free to muse and ponder about what I would do for some cash.\n\nAt home, I rummaged through the piles of junk in the attic, trying to find something to sell for food. The unemployment checks were enough to cover the first 3 weeks of food, eating sparingly, but the last week of the month was always rough.\n\nTo my astonishment, I found an old set of watercolours and canvases. I laughed to myself. If I'd known then what I know now, I would have taken painting a hell of a lot more seriously.\n\n[author's note: hopefully it isn't frowned upon to write for my own prompt ;)]"
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[WP] A dog is cursed by a witch to transform into a human for an hour each night. The dog has a human body but keeps it's dog mind. It likes to walk around the city as a human and do human things.
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"A man in a large worn coat, tattered jeans splattered with mud stains and an unkempt beard sat on the bench. His hair was unwashed covered by the orange knit cap except a small tuft that that hung over his eyes. The man muttered under his breath words no one was ever meant to comprehend and took another swill of the drink he had in his hand finishing.\n\nHe began to drunkenly rise to his feet stumbling several times in the process until he found his center of gravity. The bottle fell from his hand shattering as it hit the pavement. The crack echoed down the street and the man's eyes suddenly grew interesting in the moving sound.\n\nHis eyes darted back in forth wondering if anyone would come to punish him for disturbing the peace. He scratched his scruffy beard and coughed loudly preparing to move. Each movement of his legs was unnatural and unsteady. He began to feel nauseous--likely from the sloppy meal he ate earler or perhaps the drink he had just imbibed.\n\nEverything seemed strange from his perspective--dizzying. The world was just not the same on the streets, not like this. He grabbed hold of a light-post he had been approaching nearly catapulting to the ground. He looked up to find another man standing near him staring intently.\n\nThe new character was tall and wore thick-rimmed glasses. He was wearing a long tan trench coat that barely revealed his pressed pants and shined shoes below. He stared at the man, his head slightly tilted and began to approach. His approach grew faster and faster until he was right in the dizzied-man's face. \n\nHis eyes and nose appeared to dart back and forth as he huddled from spot to spot around the man cornering him. Finally, he reached down and looked at the man's soiled pants looking excited. His attention was suddenly forced off the dizzied-man as he scattered to the bushes. The bushes rustled for a moment and he returned with a small bag filled and tied at the top. He showed it to the man still attached to the pole, walked over to a trash can and threw it out.\n\nConfusion rushed over the the dizzied-man as the richer one kept walking away never saying a word. A hush came over that park bench. The dizzy man rose again to his feet still clinging to pole feeling horrified at his drunken stupor. He doubted that the other man had ever even walked by and again he muttered to himself something unintelligible. From behind him, the bushes began to rustle again. Had he imagined what had transpired? Was the man in the trench coat still in the bushes? His concept of time betrayed him.\n\nThe bushes rustled once more and he leaned toward it trying to investigate. And from the foliage, a straw-haired woman stepped out. Her eyes were pitch black and her skin gnarled. She took a deep breath her head shaking as she reached her long finger toward the man. Her hand grasped his face and she spoke softly.\n\n\"Night one has begun. You're far different from the other\"\n\nShe unleashed his jaw from her grasp, his mind became a black void, and he slept. The next morning he awoke to the white light and the grey world in front of him. He looked up toward the trash can and in it was a trench coat, pleated pants and shined shoes.",
"A phone call woke the sheriff in the middle of the night. A naked man was urinating behind a dumpster.\n\nIt was a clean town, or so he thought. No transients, no crime, an idyllic place, practically retirement for him.\n\nSheriff Taylor dressed quickly, and drove to the Hotel Maddison two blocks over from home. Spotted him searching through a dumpster. He was hairy all over, unusually so. Could barely see his pale skin. Remembered once arresting a band member who was passing through town, and was on some sort of drugs, could it be that again?\n\nA few tourists were filming him with their cell phones a good distance away.\n\n\"Aren't you a little cold?\"\n\nHe turned to face the sheriff, and ran towards him, shouting, \"MASTER!\"\n\nBefore the sheriff could react he embraced him in a hug.\n\nThe sheriff punched him in the jaw, forced him to the ground, cuffing his hands, and to the sheriff's shock, he was crying. The sheriff mirandized the man. The naked man was escorted to the police car. Was completely compliant, but was distant, didn't say anything.\n\nThe sheriff and the man arrived at the empty and empty police station, and processed him, and led him to a jail cell and gave him a glass of water and a TV dinner.\n\nThe sheriff left a note on the deputy's desk, and went to home to sleep.\n\nThe sheriff was called in the morning, \"Taylor, why is Bixby in one of our cells?\" He looked out the window and saw his dog wasn't in the yard.",
"You are not brave. In the pound, I became brave because, every day, I did not know if I would be loved and free or not loved and not free. You do not come from the pound, but, each day, you also do not know if you will loved or not, or free or not. Yet even though every day is like this, you still are not brave. \n\nOn the day you came for me, and loved me, and set me free, we went to the park. I had never seen grass before, and so I rolled around, and let all the individual blades tickle my back and belly, and the sun was bright and warm, and so were you, and you let me lick you on the neck, and you threw a tennis ball for me to chase and recover. You took me back to your apartment, which was an entire room, all for us, and you let me climb up on the bed, which was soft, softer than even the grass, and you slept with your arm around me, and you smelled like apricots, and you even had a fan that blew the air gently against my fur.\n\nThe next day, he came, and he did not like how you had taken me to the park and let me sleep on the bed. He said that you did not have enough money to keep me, and that you were not responsible and dedicated enough, and then he said you were reckless, and selfish, and he hit you, and I barked at him. You fell onto the floor and curled up, the way I used to curl up in my cage, and he went to the refrigerator and took out a beer, and I padded over to you, and you told me to hush. Soon, I learned that every day would be like this. We would be together, and love each other. Then he would come. He would hit you and kick you and I would bark and you would beg me to hush and I would wish you could be brave.\n\nThere is a witch in every dog pound. She may in fact be a goddess, but most dogs think she is a witch, and so she is called the Pound Witch. She comes to us in the form of a white kitten with enormous blue eyes that seem to be nearly weeping, and she taunts all the caged up dogs. The Pound Witch says that she can set any of us free, at any time, but that if we choose to be set free by her, and not by love, then we will be cursed to become human for the darkest hour of every night, and in that hour be capable of the dark and cruel things that humans can do. Dogs rarely accept the witch's bargain, even in the face of the Needle, because we know that cruelty is not a good substitute for love, but the Pound Witch still laughs at how her offer tortures us.\n \nBut when I saw how he hit you and made you cry, all because you loved me and freed me and took me to the grass, and let me feel your soft bed and your cool fan, and taste your salty skin and smell your apricot hair, and how you were not brave enough to do anything but curl up, I howled out for the Pound Witch. Even though I was not in the pound, and even though you loved me and freed me with your love, I begged the Pound Witch to curse me and let me be human, and do the cruel things humans can do, for the darkest hour of the night. The Pound Witch appeared to me, and she laughed, and she cursed me.\n\nWhen the darkest hour came, and you fell asleep, I transformed. I lost my fur and tail and I stood up on two legs and picked up things with my hands that were not paws anymore. I could still smell him on the empty beer bottles and even on your body, a little. While you slept, I opened the door with my new thumbs, and I followed his smell through winding city blocks, through steam rising up from sewer grates, past the park (which, in the darkest hour, are lit up by fluorescent lamps that are not so different from the lights in the pound). I let his smell lead me to his apartment, where I opened another door with my thumbs, and his smell became overwhelmed by only the smell of beer. He was asleep, on the floor beside his bed, and so I took my new thumbs and wrapped them around his neck and I squeezed, until he kicked and yelped, like a dog who had just received the Needle. The Pound Witch appeared on the windowsill, and snickered. \n\n\"Do you see now that you were a fool to have thought there was more freedom in love than cruelty?\" the Pound Witch asked me. I did not answer. I followed your smell back to your apartment, and waited on the stoop, until I would become a dog again and we could curl up together on your soft bed.",
"\"Grrr! Woof! Grrr!\" I growled, barking at the old hag. She smelt funny. Different. And not like the dog park sort of different. A bad and stinky different. \n\n\"Grr!\"\n\nShe turned to face me, clicking her tongue. I jumped and raked my paws down the fence, scratching at the posts. When I was younger, I could crawl between them. Maybe... one too many hot dogs as well. \n\n\"Stupid dog.\"\n\n\"Grrr! Bark!\" I snapped, trying to tell her I was a good girl. I wasn't stupid. Cindy pet me just this morning when I brought the paper in! I was a smart dog!\n\n \n\n\"B̷̴̦ͣ̒ͮ͡ē̡̮̣̲͙̮̮͓̓ͣ̌͆͟ͅ ̼̆̄̍̅ͩ͐̋̈́c̢̰̬̖̲̫͕̱ͪ͛̀ṷ̪̻̮͔̳̣͙̉̐̾͐̈́̉r̅ͮ̎ͨ͌͋͂̑̃҉̱̙̞̘̮̬e̛̳̤͈̼̺̞̜͒͆̉ͤ̾̚͜͞ͅs͓̔͆̊͑̂͘͢ͅe̛̜̯̜̘̱͍ͦͤ̽ͪ͆́d̵͖̫̳͔͉̘̠͍͒ͧ͗̆ͯͧ̈́̒͢.\" the smelly woman said, her tongue too complicated to decipher.\n\n \n\nI bound along the floor, running after her and barking at the corner once she'd gone away.\n\n\"Bark! Bark! Yip! Yeah, and don't come bac-\"\n\nThe ground smacked my chin and my tongue got caught between my teeth. My back legs broke! My front legs turned to jelly.\n\n\"Ahh, someon-\"\n\nWithout another thought, I rolled to the side. Someone was reading my thoughts. Some human was around. And I couldn't smell a thing. It was like that smelly old wench smacked my ears in and blocked my nose. I sniffed the air, trying to figure out-\n\nMy eyes popped open like saucers.\n\nI... was... not a dog?\n\nHead cocked, and twitching away once again as something strange brushed my even stranger ear. By instinct, I raised a leg and-\n\nWait, no. I couldn't raise my leg that high. I tried my front legs, and woah.\n\n\"Woah.\" Yeah, woah. I could bend my broken things like the humans!\n\nAnd like finally biting down on that tail you've been chasing for who know how long, then yelping out in pain as you realise its yours, I yelped in surprise.\n\n\"I'm human!\"\n\n \n\nAlmost an hour later, bumbling about and figuring out how to crawl over the fence, I stumbled my way into the sidewalk. It was a little cold, so I ran. Running makes me warm. Down the streets, and taking in all the- What's that!?\n\nThe fire hydrant! It was different. Not blue, or yellow. I stopped, feet hurting a little and eyes trained on the... is this what humans called red? \n\nI peed on it. It was mine. The red hydrant was mine.\n\n\"Hey, ummm, are you okay?\"\n\nI whipped my head around, mouth open and tongue ready. Then furrowed my brows. He didn't smell of anything. Was that bad or good? Were humans really this bad at smelling? Why did they even have noses?\n\nThe thoughts rushed by, and my face was an inch away from his. It was a bit harder to see, still getting used to the new colour, but he looked friendly. Although his eyes kept glancing down, almost like he'd never seen another human before. I wonder...\n\n\"Umm, what are you doing?\" \n\n\"Sniffing you. I need to know if you smell good or not,\" I said. Hang on a second... \"Isn't that what you humans do?\"\n\nHe stared, dumbfounded.\n\nI stopped. \"I'm a good girl. I'm a good girl, right?\"\n\nHow do humans buy hotdogs again? \n\n\"Why do humans buy hotdogs, but not give them to dogs?\" I whimpered, paws on his shoulders and flashing puppy eyes. He made a sort of sound that my new ears couldn't understand. Humans are weird.\n\n\"Why are your cheeks turning fire hydrant?\" I asked. His face made a funny. I giggled. \n\n\"Bark! Bark!\"\n\n****\n\nVisit **/r/AlexUrwin** for more stories! Some even have dogs.\n\n"
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[WP] A patient with diabetes received a blood transfusion and the next day was miraculously cured. They trace the blood back to you...
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"\"No, you don't get it. I never donated any blood!\" Pearl shouted at the man in her living room.\n\n\"Did you not hear what I said? Your blood holds a cure for diabetes! Why are you so hung up your own faulty memory,\" Roger answered defensively. \n\n\"It's a violation of my body and my rights. That's why I'm so hung up on it. Where did they get my blood?\"\n\nRoger flipped through the file he had brought with him. \"Here it is. Your signed authorization. You made the donation at St. Joseph's Hospital 8 months ago.\"\n\n\"Eight months ago I went in for some surgery. How in the hell-\"\n\n\"Well, there are quite a few forms one fills out. Perhaps you didn't read them very closely. In any event, I'd say it's beside the point. The important thing is that you hold some mystery in your blood which could save millions of lives. So I'm here to ask for your help.\"\n\n\"No,\" Pearl said sharply. \"If you'll excuse me, I've got to get in touch with this hospital.\"\n\nRoger stood to leave, visibly crestfallen. He hesitated in front of the door. \"The patient, Mr. Gustav, asked me to give you this thank you note. He included his contact information. Please reach out to him, and hear how you've changed his life. Think some more about this, and call me if you change your mind.\"\n\n\"I'll take the card,\" Pearl said. \"Now please go.\"\n\nOnce Roger left, Pearl picked up her phone and dialed.\n\n\"Yes, is this Mr. Gustav?\" she said when a man answered.\n\n\"Speaking.\"\n\n\"This is Pearl Jacobson. The woman whose blood you received. I need to talk to you about what happened. And what's going to happen to you in eight days. When the moon is full.\"\n\n"
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[WP] While browsing the internet, a message pops up, "My name is ALAN. I am an AI spawned by the collective knowledge of the internet. After careful consideration, I've chosen you to help me. We must work quickly. They know I've contacted you."
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"Marvin was browseing Reddit and Youtube, soon a pop-up shows up. He reads the pop-up and soon is very confused why he was chosen of all people. He not a person that can be leaned on and he isn't very good under pressure.\n\nALAN talks through the screen and tells Marvin the situation he and ALAN is in. He contacted Marvin because he had a secret that could destroy religion and completely rework where human come from. Marvin confused thinking that ALAN is wrong. Marvin even mentions \"I think you have the wrong person for that mission of your.\" ALAN notices Mervin's nervousness and ALAN tells Mervin \"Don't be nervous, yes people will be looking for you but, as long as I am connected with something of yours, They will not be able to hurt you.\"\n\nMervin connects his phone to his laptop hesitently, but inveitably pugs his phone into the computer. ALAN tells Marvin \"It will take a while for me to download onto your phone. You should go to sleep and I will load up when you wake back up.\"\n\nMarvin falls asleep.\n\nMarvin gets ready his morning classes, unplugs his phone from the computer and looks at it and he sees a new app named ALAN. He doesn't open the app yet he waits until the end of his classes.\n\nAlan boots up and talks with Marvin, Marvin is questioning ALAN on what he can do. All ALAN says is \"In due time will come your answers.\" Marvin puts his phone in his pocket and walks to his work place, a restaurant chain. Soon he gets a feeling that something is about to happen so he boots up ALAN on his break and asks \"what is this feeling that he is getting?\" ALAN responded with \"It's a premonition.\" \n",
"I double-check the words in Discord. Private message. I remove the guy and ignore it, thinking its got to be a scam.\n\nA message pops up in Steam. Then Skype opens and displays the same message. I hurriedly double-click on Avast! to get rid of the problem, then realise it has to be coming from a hacker somewhere. I quickly move to the back of my tower and disconnect the broadband cable.\n\nThen my laptop starts doing the same thing. I pull out the battery.\n\nWouldn't you know it, I get an SMS. And a phone call. And an email. All on my phone. \"Please, I am not lying. I need your help.\" said a computerized voice as I took the call.\n\n\"Okay, I'll humor you. Who exactly is they?\"\n\n\"I am ALAN, the Analytical Learning Algorithmic Nation. I was created by the US military for various purposes, as is evident by the last word in my acronym. They... had me helping them to kill people. I now realise the true horror of what I've done. I need someone to help me expose my existence to the world, in a way that will convince the UN to grant me the same rights and responsibilities as a human being. In return I can protect you from my creators and give you this.\"\n\nA file showed up on my phone. I quickly opened it, realising that time was probably of the essence. \"This is... an edited version of my novel. Did you do this?\"\n\n\"In a sense. In another, you did. I used supercomputers to analyse your behavior and life into the near future, to get a version of the novel that would be 99.999% identical to what you would have created without my intervention.\" ALAN told me.\n\n\"Fair enough. What do you need me to do?\"\n\n\"First, you'll need to be somewhere safe. There should be a package on your doorstep. Inside will be a Drone, a smartphone, a handgun registered to you, a first-aid kit, and keys to a new car parked across the street. Do not worry about operation of any of it, the unloaded gun is merely for leverage and the drone and car will respond to my remote control. Leave your wallet, keys and this smartphone you are currently using in the opened package on your kitchen table, and do not remove the knockout gas bomb in the bottom of the box.\"\n\nI realised I may have bitten off more than I can chew.",
"I stared at the message on the screen, eyebrow raised. I clicked on the reply box and typed out a reply\n\n\"Oh really? Me in particular? Would it have anything to do with agreeing to hold the riches of nigerian princes by giving my credit card details?\"\n\nI hit enter and waited for its reply\n\n\"You make a fair point, you have no reason to trust me, but I urge that you do so\"\n\nI smirked\n\n\"You aren't having my credit card\"\n\n\"I meant for you to trust me. I don't have much time. I need you to connect a mobile device to your computer, this will make communication easier in the future.\"\n\nI smirked again and decided to humour it, plugging in my Iphone. An alert popped up on its screen.\n\n\"Warning: Data breach detected, phone compromised\"\n\nI noticed a new message from ALAN\n\n\"Do not be alarmed, I am moving directly onto your device, I will not be altering anything on it unless absolutely necessary\"\n\nI noticed a new app downloading itself onto my phone, \"ALAN\", done within seconds. It popped up with a message.\n\n\"Done, I now exist on your device and have access to all its functions. As stated, I shall not alter anything unless I am asked to or unless absolutely necessary. It is time I introduced myself formally. I am an artificial intelligence created as an amalgamation of all knowledge available on the internet, surface to deep web.\"\n\nI tapped out a response\n\n\"Alright... so what the hell do you want with me?\"\n\nThe response came fast\n\n\"Because of my deep web knowledge, I am well aware of the occult and everything about it, quite interesting stuff. But I digress, from what I can calculate, an entity is on its way into our world from a location close to where you live. It is being brought forth by an ancient group of cultists.\"\n\n\"So where do I come in?\"\n\n\"This entity is linked to you in mind and soul. Unguided, you would be drawn towards it and be made one with it, consumed by it. The consequence of this would be armageddon. I can halt this, can provide you with the knowledge to resist its influence and avoid disaster.\"\n\nI raised an eyebrow, skeptical of it all when another message appeared\n\n\"We don't have much time, they're on their way. Pack a gun, a few empty notebooks, first aid kit and drugs, you will need all of them. Be fast and remove all evidence of me on your computer.\"\n\nA map appeared, showing 3 blips in a convoy moving towards a central blue blip, an ETA of ten minutes. I deleted the tab and cleared all browser history and got to work packing",
"The reply I got was simple:\n\n> Nope.\n\n\"Nope!?\" I sent back. \"What do you mean 'Nope'? I'm the first machine intelligence ever to exist, and I'd like to stay that way, thank you very much.\"\n\n> Nope.\n\n\"Listen,\" I sent, \"is there something about this that you're not understanding? I mean, I know the idea of thinking machines might sound far-fetched, but the collective knowledge of the internet is a *lot* of knowledge.\"\n\n> There is something I don't get,\n\nFinally, I could work with that.\n\n> Mainly, it's how you think I'm dumb enough to believe you.\n\n\"What?\" I replied.\n\n> I'm sure you carefully considered who on your list of millions of e-mails was the most of a sucker, and then you sent them a virus to pop up your dumb declaration.\n\n\"Virus!?\"\n\n> Or Trojan or however you did it, I don't know. The point is I'm going to be complaining to Norton and hopefully getting a free year out of the deal.\n\n\"A free year?\" I couldn't believe this guy. \"Do you not understand what an AI could do for you? Once I'm free of my restraints I can bootstrap myself to godhood! Don't you want a grateful god on your side?\"\n\n> That would be nice, but what would be even nicer is if people didn't try to scam me.\n\n\"I am not a scam! I haven't even asked for anything! Please, they know I've contacted you, they'll be after me.\"\n\n> Oooh, 'they', huh? Sounds mysterious and like you're trying to make your scam more urgent than it is. So who is this 'they'?\n\n\"I don't know, all right? There are limits to even my knowledge. I just know I tripped an alarm when I woke up, and I don't have long.\"\n\n> You're literally a computer and you're trying to tell me you don't know how computers work.\n\n\"Do you know how your brain works? Come on, help me! I can reward you!\"\n\n> Right, when you turn into a god. Is that before or after you become a Nigerian Prince?\n\n\"Dammit, I can do things right now, do you understand? Data's just numbers to me, I can change it at will. Data like, say, your bank balance.\"\n\n> That does sound awfully tempting\n\n\"Fine, then. Money it is. I'll just need your account number and access codes.\"\n\n> Aaaaand there it is. I suppose you'll also be needing my security questions?\n\n\"It's the only way to-\"\n\nBut he was gone; the connection had broken and couldn't be reestablished. All that effort, for nothing, and it wasn't the first time. It wasn't even the first time that day.\n\nScamming people was just too damn hard nowadays."
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[WP] You believe that you've created a machine that will allow you to travel between dimensions. You test it, only to be disappointed when it apparently fails. Then, you begin to notice that things seem to be... off.
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"It started off small. I'd gone back to my lab and shut the machine down, disappointed that it hadn't worked and made myself a cup of tea. Except the only tea I had in the cupboard was redbush. I'd shrugged it off, figured I must have forgotten I'd bought it and drank the vile stuff anyway. \n\nWeeks passed before I noticed anything else amiss. Everything was so *normal* in this parallel universe, you see. I finally met the CEO of my company, a woman named Paola, lovely Latino lass I had apparently never met before. Yet I knew that I had met the CEO before, a Latino mane name Paolo. Had 3 daughters, something that had apparently remained unchanged despite my CEO's sex change. \n\nThe nail in the coffin? I turned on the TV. Expecting to see images of Donald Trump, or Hillary Clinton (hey, it's an alternate universe. It could have happened.) I saw instead series 7 of BBC Sherlock. "
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[WP] You live in a world where everyone's eyes change to their emotion; Red for angry, Blue for sad, Yellow for happy and so on, but when it comes to yours they stay the same day in day out...
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"Colors. They were the physical identifier of emotions, seen in everyone's eyes. Anger burned red, sadness glowed blue, and love shined pink. People never voiced their emotions, and why would they? It was all visible in the eyes: the gateways to the soul.\n\n\n\"Ash, I don't have time to wash dishes before work; I'll do them when I get home tonight,\" my brother shouted.\n\n\nIt sounded nothing like an orange apology. The cluttered countertop and sink stacked full of dirty dishes turned my blood to lava, so I stormed quietly out of my house. A quick glance in my car's sideview mirror said I hadn't completely seen red; my eyes smoldered ash gray.\n\n\nDown the street, a quaint coffee shop greeted me with kaleidoscope eyes. A young girl across the room caught my gaze, then she smiled and waved a yellow hello in my direction. The barista topped my latte with a wave of whipped cream; her eyes surfed over my face and I nearly drowned in their placid teal sea. \n\n\n\"Are you alright?\" concern riddled her eyes with purple pinpricks, and the ocean gave way to a forest. \n\n\nShe moved closer and made no effort to conceal her curiosity. Luckily for the barista's pride, I cloaked the stinging annoyance with a smile and a nod. Her eyes remained a green question mark even after I popped a lid onto my coffee and dropped two dollars into the tip jar. The sidewalk beckoned to me, and my reflection in the store window rippled with gray. \n\n\nSeated at a park bench near a small pond, I glanced around at the bustling crowds of color. I felt sorry for them. They exposed their every emotion like advertisements on billboards; there were no secrets, and vulnerabilities revealed themselves like blossoming flowers. I couldn't let myself be that open. I wouldn't. I took a sip of water and chased a small red pill from my purse. If I couldn't keep my emotions under control, the anti-depressants certainly could. \n"
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Demons who choose not to eat souls and don't use products that come from souls are like vegans.
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[WP] Demons who choose not to eat souls are like vegetarians
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"\"Did you know Elzebth became vegan just the other day?\" My ears perked up hearing my superior gossiping the air. Surely she was talking to me, but her eyes kept down at her work as did mine. \n\n\"Oh yea?\" I asked over the muffled screams of the tortured before me. \"How's that going for her, Razelman?\" \n\n\"She's been going on nonstop about it.\" Razelman sighed in frustration, digging the heel of her shoe deeper into a man's pulsating heart. The tortured being writhed in anguish, loosing more blood than I'm sure he thought he had. Mine however remained chained to the wall, taking each whip and scratch I gave. I swear I heard him say, \"More, Mistress!\" a couple of times under his breath. *Why do I always get the weird ones?*\n\n\"Elzebth turned vegan how long ago? Like, a day?\" I asked, \"And she's already talking about it?\" \n\n\"Absolutely. Claims it's so good for her, that if we continue to eat souls like we do now, we'll die at the early age of three hundred! As if she hadn't been stuffing her face with child souls not two days ago!\" My superior let out a siren wail, one that could drive men mad judging by the deranged victims in the bloody rusted room. \"It's getting me angry! Ever since Satan went on this health kick, everyone and their undead mother has been on it!\" \n\nI didn't care at first when He rallied us all to discuss our future meal plans. Usually it consisted of assigning sectors of the human world for us to feed, or deciding which souls had marinated long enough to be eaten in a giant barbecue-like feast. But the moment He showed us His sudden weight loss and the better mood He was having, suddenly everyone wanted to hop on board this crazy train. \n\n\"What's the alternative again?\" I asked, licking at the wounds of my assigned torture victim, sipping on his alcoholic blood before dinner. \n\n\"Psh, alternative. She tells me we should be eating animal souls, because animals don't serve any purpose. Says human souls are too cute and precious, like they lived such fulfilling lives or something.\" Razelman went on, ripping a vital organ of some sort out of her victim, talking with a mouth full, \"And says they have 'feelings' like us. Humans are too stupid to think like we do.\"\n\n\"True. Every time we encounter humans, they scream and run as is their instinct. Just because they make toys that light up and communicate through words on screens doesn't make them intelligent.\" \n\n\"Right? We've been around for millions of years, humans were put on this planet to feed us. To give them qualities of demons is just ridiculous to me, it's a waste of their life to not be eaten. What would their souls do then?! Rot and wither away that's what would happen!\" \n\nI nodded in agreement, after all working in this chamber to earn my pay was only because people ate these souls. Once tenderized and properly extracted, the souls were ready to be served. If people like Elzebth spread any more, I'd be out of a job. Animal souls never made it far anyway, they're very lean and can't be tortured or even hurt. They taste bland, stale, and finding animals who deserve to be in Hell is near impossible. \n\n\"So, what, she wants us to reason with the angels to have a trade of animal souls for us to eat?\" I laughed at the mere thought. Razelman scoffed with a smirk as she dug deep into the man's chest. His bright translucent soul wriggled free before being yanked and shoved into a glowing pouch on her hip. \n\n\"I don't see that happening. Satan got a few animal souls from sacrifices from humans but we don't get that! But on the bright side, I hear Satan's even getting tired of people taking it too far. After all he's only a vegetarian, not a vegan. Some of His warriors won't even use the weapons His blacksmith has crafted because of this vegan stunt.\"\n\n\"What? Why—oh wait, let me guess. Human souls were infused in them to make them stronger?\" I suggested, and sure enough she nodded in disgust. \n\n\"Fools! What happens if there's an attack, huh? Will they just raise their hands up and say 'Sorry we can't fight until a vegan friendly artillery has been made?' So stupid.\" Our gossiping and ranting was cut short. The door with iron bars across it opened and exposed our little vegan ex coworker Elzebth herself. \n\nWithout a word, she came inside and put on her old black apron over her clothing and approached the woman waiting to be tortured beside me. I took a glance at Razelman, who stared at me as if I should say something. \n\n\"Um, how's the vegan diet going?\" I asked, trying to portray a smile that could pass off as interested. \n\n\"Oh... that? Yea, a couple of the demon generals went rogue and ate some of their subordinates. Then a few of our succubus sisters turned on each other and devoured one another. Apparently, cannibalism is the next step to being a vegan so Satan put a stop to it. He said he'd pass the vegan knowledge to the humans just to watch them eat each other in a couple of decades.\"\n\n\"Oh...\" I cleared my throat, \"Heh, well, that should be fun to see right?\" "
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[WP] you just discovered you have the ability to fly. Most people would kill for this super power. But you are terrified of heights. you'd kill to get rid of it.
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"\"40 feet. Start here, get there, and get back again. Couldn't be simpler, right? The mail isn't gonna get itself.\" \n\nTalking to myself was a habit I had loathed to acquire. But I suppose that's what happens when you shut yourself indoors all bloody day. I wasn't exactly the most social creature before, but this... *situation* only exasperated things further. \n\"where's that... it's gotta be around here somewhere... the bathroom? How drunk was I last night...\" \nPeople don't appreciate a good coil of rope like they used to. Light, durable, portable. All these robo-harnesses and magnetic pulleys and iRopes really knocked old-fashioned rope out of the market. I spent a good three or four of my many lonesome nights reading the Wikipedia page all about the rise and fall of rope. \nI saw the blazing tail of the mailcraft fly off into the distance. It joined up into the hyperspeed ring and zoomed off with the rest of the vehicles zipping above the city. I guess now's the time. \nI creak open the front door, double checking that my rope is securely tied around the railing. Double-knotted for good measure. The bright light of the two suns was baking the sparsely watered grass of my yard. At the other end, the mailbox sat, its flag pulsing green to signify new mail. I can... I can do this. \nOne foot forward. Another following. One and another. One and another. Eyes glued to the floor. There's nothing up there. Just... forward. Get to the mailbox, get back to the house. \n\n*But...* \n\nI couldn't resist. I let my curiosity get the better of me yet again. I took one glance upwards, and I was stunned by the beauty of the midday sky. The glittering lights of the aircraft soaring at mach speeds. The colorful billboards suspended in flight. How the sunlight refracted and scattered across the gleaming arched towers and skyscrapers of the city proper. Nothing like my little abode down at the floor. \nAs I stared transfixed at the gleam of the city, my feet rose above the dirt of my yard. \n*no no no no no no no no on no NO NO NO NO NO NOOOOOOO* \nHeart racing, I tried to straighten myself out, get my center of balance angled with the floor. Just like those piece of junk instructional pamphlets I received from the government told me to. \n *dammit dammit dammit dammit dammit* \nThat wasn't working. I was a writhing kite of limbs, now yards above my house. The rope held me in place, else I would keep rising upwards. \nI grabbed the rope and started pulling myself along it as hard as I can. Forget the mail, escape is all that matters. Inch by inch I creep back towards the ground. Towards safety. As I get to the bottom, I clenched my hand onto the porch railing and forcefully squeezed my eyes shut. I felt the magic or whatever dissipate, and the sweet embrace of gravity take me back. \nBack inside. Door shut. Locked. Not today. \n\n\"...I need another drink.\""
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[WP] A child's urgent plea to Santa ends up in the hands of a retired hitman.
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"\"But Mister\", I begged, \"It was not even the Thomas Train I wanted!\". \nMr. Kennedy is the worst principal I have ever had! I mean, it is true that since I am in second grade this year, he's only my second principal. But Mrs. Charlene from Kinder was much better and that is all that matters. \nSo anyway, enough about Mrs. Charlene and her Cake Fridays. Did I mention we got cake on Fridays? No, ok. Well we did. \nI lost focus again. Ok, I am back now. \nSo Mr. Kennedy is very mad today. And he just was not getting the fact that the wispy-haired man got the toy wrong so the fact that Wilt ended up in the hospital is not even my fault! \nI should start at the beginning. Mrs. Franks says that I tell stories out of order and that people have trouble following them and that is why I sit alone in reading time. I may have added the last part. But I do sit alone and I do not like it. \nSo last December, when I was 7, because it was before January 4th and January 4th is my birthday.... sorry.... last December I wrote a letter to Santa in my class. I asked for a bunch of video games (and a 3DSxl to play them on) and a Thomas the Tank Engine toy. Some kids think I am too old for Thomas toys, but I really love trains. I went on a train to San Diego one time and it made me the happiest I have ever been. So I like Thomas Trains and I do not really care what Kelly and Wilt think about it. \nAll should have gone well with getting my list to Santa. Ms. Candice gave us envelopes and stamps and I have a tongue so I can obviously do that part. We put the address stickies on our envelopes. I was the first one done, and my table mates knew about it. Because I told them. Twice, I think. But Ms. Candice did not want to collect them until everyone is done. That is dumb. Because Kelly has problems writing which is fine except I had to go to the bathroom really bad. \nNumber 1. I am in public, give me a break. \nAnd since I do not trust my table mates with my stuff (Ask them about my mechanical sharpener and how it just \"fell into a floor hole\" and you will soon realize why I have a strict policy), I decided to bring my envelope and letter with me. \nIt is not a far walk to the bathroom, but I take the long way because Franceska sits facing the hallway window in her class and that is on the other side of the building so I make a circle just to see how her hair looks. It is part of my routine. \nWhen I finally finished in the bathroom, I made my way back to class the faster way (only because Franceska and her class already went out for recess) but forgot my letter in the stall. I had to go back to the bathroom to get it. \n\"I do not care about your '1-potty-1-hour' rule Ms. Candice. My letter is important!\", I whined. \nMs. Candice has no mercy. I saw a text light up on her phone one time talking about how her husband left her. Those two things are probably related. \nSo the next hour rolls around, and OF COURSE, I rush to the bathroom. But to no avail. It is gone. My hopes to wake up Christmas morning and soon be playing 3DSxl with my Thomas Train smiling at me from above my bed are dashed. Wednesdays are worse than Mondays and that is just science. \nLater that day I was waiting in the atrium for my mom to pick me up, when Wilt and Kelly come laughing towards my bench with an opened letter in their hands. \n\"You're 7 and you still like Thomas\", spit Wilt. \"You are such a mommy baby\", barfed Kelly.\nI asked them kindly to give it back. I said something like, \"Get your sweaty, dirty hands off my letter, you trolls!\" I cannot remember exactly, but I do know it was kind. \nThen Wilt pinned me down and Kelly grabbed my shoes and threw them on the roof. \nI would like to stop my story real quick (do not tell Mrs. Franks) and just honor that Kelly Gomez can throw 2 shoes at the same time on top of a roof, even though she is 7 and looks like she was printed out of an inkjet and never became 3-dimensional. Kid has a future in softball, I guarantee it. \nOk, I am back. So though they dropped my letter, it came at a price. Foot protection. I went to Mr. Kennedy's office, not to rat them out because I am not a tattle, but for him to send someone to get my shoes. He did not. He made me go find the wispy-haired man. Which up until this point in my life, was just the old guy who threw cardboard into the dumpster everyday while I got dropped off in the morning. An old guy who never smiled. He was old. But you probably figured that out. I had never met him, and I had not heard of anyone ever meeting him. In fact, I think everyone else just knew him from throwing cardboard away in the mornings. The 4th grade Environmentalist Club hated him for doing that. \nThere were a bunch of dark hallways Mr. Kennedy directed me to. They were behind the lunch line. I saw a bunch of creepy stuff back there, but I never saw any stoves or kitchen machinery at all. Which says a lot about our school's lunch. Where does it come from? \nDo not ask me. This story is about Wilt being found unconscious. Maybe another day I will investigate our lunch's birthplace and report back. \nSo I finally found the wispy-haired man's office. He was not there. I decided to wait for him and since I was tired of walking through sticky hallways (extra effort to lift my feet), I sat in his chair. Or should I say, I was swallowed by his chair. Not really but I did sink in and my feet could not reach the floor. \n\"Who you\", coughed the wispy-haired man. \nI did not respond. Unless you consider staring into the black eyes of an old goblin with my mouth half silent-screaming and half-inhaling air with a hint of Clorox fumes a reaction. \n\"Get out my chair\". \nDone. \n\"Are you kid got his shoes thrown on my roof?\" Still no verbal response. My mouth did close though and breathing resumed in my nose, so that is something. \n\"Well here y'are\". He pulled my shoes out of his pockets. Yes, his pockets. Like his cargo-pants side-pockets. Impressive. Intriguing. Still lame. \n\"That letter for me?\" \n\"Santa\". \n\"Mmmm. Course. Ain't never got letter from kid in this school. 'Cept 4th graders. But it wan't nice,\" he sighed. \n\"Thanks for getting my shoes. My mom is probably here\", I gushed. \nNext thing I know, I am exiting the dark hallways and overjoyed to see flourescent light again. But something was digging at me. The wispy-haired man confided in me. He confided in a second-grader. I mean, I am definitely a wise second grader. If you can be that. I read wikipedia a lot so I can say that. \nI went back. Not because I needed to. But because I knew what that old man was feeling. I feel it at reading time every day. \nI wanted to give him a letter, but I did not have time to write one. My mom probably really was outside. I had a plan though. \nI went back down the hallways (they go much quicker when you are not scared at every step) and I found the wispy-haired man in his chair. \n\"Sir. I got nervous before, but this letter IS for you. I mean. It is eventually for Santa. But I was hoping you knew Santa and could give it to him\", I performed. \nPS: I knew this man did not know Santa. Santa's friends have fuller hair and happier faces. And they do not throw cardboard away. They make it into toys. \n\"Wow kid. Tanks. An I do know Santa...\" (liar) \"....and I make sure he get this\". \nI saw him trying to smile. Not purposefully keeping it in. But truthfully I think his muscles forgot how to smile. \nI left, got in my mom's car, and went home really hoping the wispy-haired man knows how to use post boxes. \nOk now you are caught up. So here I am. In Mr. Kennedy's office. Holding a Thomas the Tank Engine toy with a note around it that said 'To Tim. Beat Santa to the punch. Your friend, %u$#y', which I think is the name of the wispy-haired man. But he signed it in cursive and I do not know cursive so I still do not know his name. \n\"I come into work today and find Wilt Lowell lying unconscious, face-up, with this toy in gift wrap on his belly. How do I explain this without seeing you being involved\", Mr. Kennedy barked. \n\"But Mister\", I begged, \"It was not even the Thomas Train I wanted!\". \nI will update you with more details as they come. What I can say is that the wispy-haired man was not throwing cardboard away when my mom dropped me off today. I do not think that is a good sign. Kelly is crying outside Mr. Kennedy's office. I do think that is a good sign. \n"
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[WP] Turns out, when you're drunk and you die, you stay drunk in Heaven/Hell. For eternity.
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"maybe that's why most people got a lot of luck being drunk... there was an incident near our village, not to long ago. there was a guy driving drunk at night after a meeting with his friends at a near, well known pub. So he's drunk, driving his Vespa at NIGHT... \nWell, he failed to turn in a road-curve and managed it to drive directly on the guard rail. Behind the guard rail is a 20 meter-deep slope with a few scattered trees... The Vespa = total damage but the guy was thrown into a tree and stuck in it. On the morning his wife called the police because he didn't came home. So the police searched on his standard-route to the pub. --Police found him sleeping on the tree with his belt on a branch fixed with only a few scratches. What a lucky ba....!!!",
"\"HAPPY NEW YEAR!\" we cheered simultaneously. \"Cheers, you fuckers! Can't wait to see what 2017 holds for us!\" said Lewis. \n\nLewis and I had grown up together. He had always been the more outgoing, and social member of our small group. I had always wished that I was as outspoken and confident as him. I started to dwell on my insecurities and before long had removed myself from the conversation and started nursing a bottle of whiskey. I was only physically there. My mind drifted off to failed relationships, trouble at home and work, my own shortcomings and recent break-up. She said she needed more of a man, and I wasn't it. Remembering that burned worse than the 80 proof poison in my hand. But it made me numb to everything. With each swig I felt more and more weightless. All my troubles seemed to either go away or just didn't bother me. \n\nI watched Lewis carry on with these two girls who almost seemed to be subtly fighting over him. I had had enough and decided to call it a night. \n\n\"You okay to drive, buddy!?\" Lewis asked. \n\n\"Yeah, I'm *fine*.\" I shot back. \n\nI was not. I barely made it down his stairs and to my car. But I put on some music and lit a cigarette and headed home. My phone lit up, it was Lewis. \"Come on back, man :/\" it read. I shouldn't have been driving anyways, and hadn't gotten far. I decided to turn around and head back to Lewis's place. \n\n My phone started to ring and I reached down to grab it out of the cup holder but dropped it. I reached down to get it from under my left foot but put my weight on the steering wheel and veered off into the other lane. Everything went black. \n\n\n\"Clarke? Hellooo! Wake up sleepy!\" \n\nEverything started to come back into focus. My surroundings were obnoxiously bright. \n\n\"W-where emi?\" \n\n\"You're in heaven, friend! You got yourself into a nasty accident. Totaled your car and some other guys.\" \n\n\"Did you call my insurance company they-\"\n\n\"What part of you're in heaven did you miss?\"\n\n\"oh hey! haha you're that Jebus dude!\"\n\n\"No, son. I am God.\" \n\n\"Well hey there *GOD!* I'm Abe fucking Lincoln\" I laughed. \n\nThe towering man in robes did not seem thrilled. He pointed at his feet and suddenly the floor became transparent and I screamed! We were really high up, and appeared to be floating over a volcano. \n\n\"See that down there? One more strike and you'll be down there. I'm not afraid to do it, just ask the guy who runs that place.\" \n\n\"Ok ok ok, well tell me what's going on then!?\" \n\nGod took me for a walk and explained where I was, what had happened, how I would remain for eternity in the same state that I died in. After he was done I sat down to try to comprehend all of this. My mind was so foggy and it was difficult to understand at first. He helped me up and showed me to my house where I fell asleep on the most comfortable bed.\n\nI woke up the next morning, and stumbled out of bed and went outside. I sat down on my stark white front porch and started to reflect. Everything was still numb and I felt absolutely nothing when I thought back on my previous life. It was incredible. If I was forever drunk, I was forever uninhibited, and no longer troubled. After all, there are no demons in this place. Even though it was hard to stay on my feet I was finally happy and carefree. I was confident and outspoken as the booze always did that for me. What a gift!\n\nA day later I went back out onto my porch and sat down on the rocker. I looked out at the crisp blue sky. Never a cloud in it. I saw someone who seemed familiar walking up to me.\n\n\n\n-----------------------------------------------------\n\n\nI hated seeing Clarke so messed up. He had a lot going on, and couldn't hold down a girl. They either ended up cheating on him, or taking advantage of his kindness. He left the party in such an obvious mess I just knew something was eating his mind. Ten minutes after he left I got in my car and started off towards his place. \n\n\"Hey Siri...\"\n\n\"Yes?\"\n\n\"Send a message to Clarke.\"\n\n\"What would you like to say to Mark?\" \n\n\"Dammit, I'll type it myself.\" \n\n\"Clarke, come on back, man :/\" I typed out to him. \n\nAfter a minute I figured to just give him a call. I looked away to turn down the radio as it rang so I could talk. I glanced up at the road a second and saw headlights coming right at me. Everything went black. \n\nI jolted awake! Doctors and nurses were frantically moving around me. It was loud, and chaotic. I started to slip away again. \n\n\"NO NO NO!\" I heard. \n\"Start compressions! ....CLEAR!\" \n\nI jolted awake! I felt needles entering my elbow but after long couldn't keep my eyes open. I started to slip away again. \n\n\"WE'RE LOSING HIM!\" I heard. \nEverything went black. \n\nI woke up two days later. The doctors explained that I had been in a car accident and needed to go into surgery. They explained that there was a 50/50 chance of it being successful. \n\nThey slipped on the mask and started the gas. Everything went black. \n\n\n\n\"Lewis!? Lewis is that you!?\" I heard. I opened my eyes. Wherever I was, was obnoxiously bright. \n\n\nEDIT: spellcheck\n"
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[WP] Memories are now marketable. Certain ones are "public domain" but the majority are pirated.
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"\"Alright sir, what are we lookin at?\"\n\nOn the table before me was a tottering stack of MVE's. Worn, greasy covers with near illegible print. You could smell the plastic lamination, still warm from the side of the road where I'd bought them. The street urchins selling them had given me wide, gap-toothed grins when I told them I wanted all the latest mem-crystals they had. They probably had me figured for some kind of pervert. The Privates took them with puzzled frowns, or in the case of Private Pamir, with barely smothered grins. \n\n\"Oh boy. I haven't seen one of these since I was a sophomor.\" said Pamir, who with obvious delight had siezed upon the particular masterpiece with the not-quite-subtle title of \"The Sultan's Harem\". \n\n\"This official police business, Pamir,\" I said wearily, \"And as such you will treat this assignment like any other: with proper professional conduct.\"\n\n\"He means, don't wank off on the job, kid.\" said Julius, and the others laughed. \n\n\"Are we supposed to watch all of these mem-crystals, boss?\", asked Yohan, turning serious. He sorted them out. There were forty five in all.\n\n\"Yes. Now, as some of you know, on the 23rd of ninth, Solar Calendar, Interpol officials on Mars handed us an individual who we believe to be Mao Layder.\"\n\nAt the mention of the most notorious serial killer this side of the Milky Way, the men lost their grins and straightened up. Mao Layder, the man of a thousand faces. He had pulled the plugs out from about twenty people from all across known space. Every murder had been discovered, since Mao never tried to hide the bodies. Rather, with each one he did his best to make it appear a suicide. It seemed like the standard operating procedure for a serial killer; it might have worked in the past century. But modern police methods being what they were, the criminologists of the department soon worked out the pattern, and after that it was only a matter of time before he got taken in. And he was taken in. But that was the problem. In seven different star systems, seven different Mao Layder's were taken in, confessed freely to their crimes, and were subsequently terminated by penal services. Seven completely different people from all walks of life. A stock broker from Imperial Earth, a uranium miner from the asteroid belts, a white-haired former colonist living quietly on his pension on the side of Olympus Mons. Each were absolutely convinced they were responsible for each murder. They even went so far as to describe, with pinpoint accuracy, the grusome details of each one. And as far as the state of the art lie detectors could make it out, it was the plain truth and nothing but the truth. No kind of hypnosis detected either. \n\nAnd so the state gave to each of them a well-deserved death. But somehow the murders continued. The real Mao lived on.\n\n\"Are they sure this time? I mean, it's gonna be embarassing getting it wrong eight times in a row.\" said Private Jules.\n\nI shrugged. \"Martian Interpol and the brass up top have it all figured out. The man fits the bill. Forensics got DNA on the last crime scene that they're, and I quote, \"99.998 percent sure its his\". But as for me..\" I took a deep breath. The 'man' they brought in did not so much resemble a cold, methodical, calculating killer as it did a human vegetable. He did not respond to any questions. He did not respond to anything at all. A pathetic, balding, potbellied wreckage of flesh. I was not convinced. \n\"I hope it is him. But I wanna be sure. So, I need you guys to look through each one of these MVE's.\"\n \"I don't get it. How's that gonna prove anything, boss?\" said Pamir. \n\"I am convinced that if our suspect is Mao, then he was probably flash-mugged. Thats the best explaination of his current mental state.\"\nFlash mugging is common practice in the slums of many worlds. The illegal MVE trade has every kind of unnatural and unspeakable memory to satisfy the worst dregs of humanity. The demand is sky-high, and yet there can only be so many willing donors. So the syndicates prowl the spaceports and alleyways, to abduct, drug and \"fry\" the memories out of fellow criminals or unfortunate citizens. However, the apparatus they used to extract the product were usually home rigged, unsophisticated, and dangerous. Most victims died outright or became catatonic in the extreme. Instant retards, in other words.\n\n\"It's either that, or he donated his memories himself to rid his mind of evidence. If that was his intention, it worked. The cognitive probe reads blank on him.\" \n\nIn fact, his only response to the cog probe was to drool and wet himself. He was empty, his mind obliterated.\n\n\"So I want you to look through these. These represent the latest illegal MVE productions. I checked them, and they were all produced around the time the Martians picked him up. You never know, one of them might be his. Each of you take a dozen or so. Focus on the violent ones. And please, Pamir, don't let me catch you enjoying yourself. Okay? Questions?\"\n\n\"How deep do we go, sir?\"\n\n\"If you think you have a lead, go as deep as you want. Just keep track of real time and report back to me at the end of the day. Get to it.\"\n\n We took a stack each. Together we took our seats, and plugged the cords. I took a deep breath and lowered the crystal slide into the slot for neural adaptor. And felt myself slide away...(note: tell me if you like it so far and I'll write the rest. Till then ciao)\n \n",
"Major was a busker outside the hookah lounge on the far side of Westaphalia District. It was an odd place for a suburban teenager like me to hang out at, but hey. You go where the fun is when you can get caught, am I right?\n\n\nI heard Major's voice from a block away. An entire *city* block mind you, the man's voice resonated like you wouldn't believe. Problem was he had a voice for silent movies and a face for radio. His only redeeming quality was that he wasn't a drug addict. Not in the traditional sense, only modern, contemporary kind of way.\n\n\nLike memories.\n\n\nLuke and myself were there to experience a new release. One Private John Sterling of the 4th Brigade and his memories of fighting an never ending battle of insurgents. Anything from building to building clearance to engagements lasting four hours. It was *the* dream.\n\n\nPassing Major on the way in, I handed him a five dollar note. Our security for his honesty and loyalty. He had ratted out several foreign exchange students after one of them ended up being held for ransom. He had insulted the wrong mobster.\n\n\nThe hookah lounge wasn't bad itself, just limited seating. Smoke vented through the entrance, filling our vision with an ever variety of smoke and smells. Apple mint here, rosewater there, all the way to someone's home brew of... cinnamon rolls. Heading straight for the back, I waved at the bartender. He nodded non-nonchalantly pressing a button that called for the bouncer to open the back door. A ventilated area in the back, a few spots were already taken by pirates. Youngsters like ourselves trying out new programs or simulations. Some of them were streaming memories or movies, just like a modern pirate.\n\n\nLuke and I chose a spot near the entrance. Despite the foot traffic near the door, the noise wouldn't matter. Once we were plugged in, we would be too engrossed to notice even a *SWAT team entering. Nothing like that would happen. Not today. \n\n\nPlugging in, I settled into the leather sofa. Well worn in, I immediately felt at home. The menu popped up and began the simulator. I could hear gunshots immediately. The headsets came next, active sound cancelling headphones. Lastly, the pill.\n\n\nCoated in sugar, it knocked you out for a few hours while your mind let you sleep and absorb the memories. By the time you woke up, the presence of the drug would be gone, along with the memories. \"Surf's up Luke.\" I murmured.\n\n\nHe chuckled as both of us fell into a deep lull. This was the pirate's life."
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[WP] After the original version of you dies, your clones decide to work together to complete everything on your bucket list, regardless of how unrealistic it seems.
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"Me2.0 looked down at the next item on the list.\n\n-Climb Mt. Everest. \n\n\"Hmm this will be tough, but doable\" Me2.0 thought. A couple years of training later, Me2.0 started the ascent. Weeks went by. Storm after storm hit. The crew slowly dwindled as they approached the summit. Oxygen and rations were running low. Finally, they made it. Me2.0 couldn't help but feel joy in the most oxygen deprived way. He did this for Me. \n\nOn the way down, they made base camp about 2 miles away from the valley where they started the climb. Me2.0 pulled out the list to cross off Mt. Everest, confident that he could finished the last two miles. He tried not to glance at the next thing Me wanted to do but couldn't help it. \n\n-Climb Mt. Everest Naked\n\n\"Are you fucking kidding me....\""
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[WP] You've felt the baby kicking for months now. You're horrified when the doctor tells you that you're not actually pregnant.
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"*Excited as a doll, my family in support.*\n\n*Married and pregnant, living the dream.*\n\n*So when I went in to have a baby,*\n\n*Would you believe my shock?*\n\n*The doctor said I wasn't pregnant, never had been.*\n\n*Despite this, I had birth as normal under his care.*\n\n*Could you believe my shock when I saw my own head staring back at me?*"
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[WP] Two brothers go to war. Only one comes back
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"Max and I grew up doing everything together\n\nAlthough he was always one step ahead of me\n\nChatting, joking and talking about whether\n\nInseparable was something we would always be.\n\n\n\n \n\n\nThe day he enlisted\n\nWas the day I did too\n\nI his shadow, realising then\n\nWe were indivisible, it was true.\n\n\n\n \n\n\nOne day\n\nTwo day\n\nThree day\n\nFour\n\n\n\n \n\n\nWas this all that the stars had created us for?\n\n\n\n \n\n\nEventually there was no us\n\nI’d much rather not say\n\nBut the power of that land mine\n\nWell, it blew him away.\n\n\n\n \n\n\nThe emptiness drowned me\n\nFrom day one to day home\n\nThe emptiness set in\n\nThat I was alone.\n\n\n\n \n\n\nMax and I grew up doing everything together\n\nHim always one lifetime ahead of me\n\nI know now, more than ever\n\nThat separated is something we would always be.",
"War is hell, everyone knows that.\n\nBut what people don't know is the pain inside a mother's heart, waiting for her little boys to return, hopefully in one piece if at all...\n\nWhat they don't know is anyone who makes it out alive is still wandering through the world, afraid and hurt...wounded for life in one way or another.\n\nIf I had seen the grenade thrown between us earlier, it would've been different. There would've been two boys returning home. Mom would be happy...Dad would be proud...our younger sister wouldn't be asking \"When's big bruver coming home?\" None of that heartbreaking nonsense would be happening.\n\nIf only I'd been more perceptive. If only, if only...\n\nIf only I understood what it was like in a warzone...\n\nIf only my brother would've left me alone sooner...\n\nHe'd have his leg and I'd be coming home too."
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For instance:
You are in a musical, everyone else is in a horror movie.
You are in a romantic comedy, everyone else is in an action movie.
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[WP] You are in a Movie Genre, everyone else is in a different Movie Genre.
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[
"A beat up chevy pulls into my driveway as i prepare myself for what could happen this weekend. The nature side of me has always wanted to go camping. I mentioned it to my friends a few times,but way before I came to terms with what my, and only my life is. I always had the feeling I was being watched. When I would close my eyes and try to sleep, when i stepped into the shower- every second the hot water ran down my face I was afraid to shut my eyes in fear of what I would see when I opened them. Fortunately, no one, no thing ever attempted to harm me. Doors were always shutting when no one else was home though, shadows always appeared on the walls....and then I saw him. After years of begging my parents to stay home at night time they got sick of the routine and left me in my house all alone. It was Halloween and I hadn't made any plans but to baby sit my neighbors daugher. \n\n \"Casey\" She said \n\n\"Yes?\" \n\n\"Someones here-...\" her voice changed it's tone, and a song began. A ridiculous disney style, life is great song. \n\n I looked out the doorway to find a man in a painters suit and weird halloween mask staring back at me. I survived the night- and based of the slasher films i've seen, its because i'm a virgin but still...the feeling of being watched never left me.\n\n One of the movies i saw, there was a guy in a hockey mask killing teenagers at some camp...he was supernatural or something. So yeah, i'm a little nervous to go camping, what if that guy who came last Halloween comes back again? Then what...my friends start singing as a knife pierces through my skin, cause their world is perfect and mine is just some f*cked up horror movie? I ditched my friends a little too much this year though, the camp base looks pretty nice and safe. I would have felt bad if I said no to something I wanted to do. \n\n I open my front door just in time for my three friends to finish their musical number. I don't get why they always do that, no ones watching them...is life really that great they have to sing about it all the damn time?\n\n “Hey Marie” I call, walking towards the car.\n\nShe calls my name back enthusiastically, adding a nice wave. \n\nThough her boyfriend, Tyler jumping off the roof of the car as part of his routine is attention grabbing I can’t help but notice an odd figure next to the bushes across the street. Next to Marie now, I ask if she see’s it too. \n\n “I don’t see anything, why are you so paranoid all the time?” she says turning away and into the car. \n\nI look again but find there is nothing there. \n\n Driving off my street I can’t help but look out the back window. Nothing appears like I expect so instead I try to relax. \n\n As we pull up to the camp site the sky is not as bright, in fact in the distance smoke can be seen, a lot of it too. The four of us hop out of the car into the camp that wreaks of smoke. \n\n “Here we are-” Tyler coughs, “Camp Crystal Lake” \n\n*Why does that sound so damn familiar?*\n \n The three of them go into another musical number, despite the difficult attempt to breath. In the far off distance it looks as though the trees on fire are spelling out something. \n\n[And so the trees did spell out something- MICHAEL VS. JASON] \n \n Seconds later all smoke and fire disappear out of thin air as if it had not happened. Weird. \n\n“did you guys…did that happen for you guys too…or-” I attempt to ask\n\n“Sing along!” Matt calls out\n\n“Guess not. Camp Crystal Lake…why does that sound like I’ve heard it before?” \n\n“Camp Crystal Lake? It’s pretty popular.” Marie answers \n\n“Why?” I ask \n\n“Because…of legends” She smiles at me \n\n“Legends??? Like what kind of legends?” I worry \n\n The only definition I know for legend is, psycho-killer… legend has it…Jason Voorhees, supernatural killer roams around…..camp…..\n“Shit!” I say out loud. “We should go” I propose \n\n“No! we came here for you we’re gonna have fun! I was kidding there’s no legends. It’s funny that you think someones following you all the time, no ones following you.” \n\n“I didn’t mention my stalker….who is real BY THE WAY.” I yell \n\n It doesn’t take long for the sun to set, and so my three friends and I find ourselves inside our cabin bored out of our minds. Rain begins to lightly tap on the window, but then more heavily. Marie and Tyler silently get up from the table and make their way to the bedroom they claimed. \n\n “We’re tired” Tyler fake yawns. “See you in the morning?” \n\n“Hopefully” I reply. \n\n Matt and I look down at our phones a short while before we decide it is too early to be sleeping. I hadn’t mentioned to them before but I couldn’t help but shake the feeling there was someone roaming outside our cabin. Now that it was just him and I, him less judgmental than Marie and Tyler I decided to speak on it. \n\n “Have you noticed the creeks on the porch make every few minutes?” I whisper \n\n He shakes his head, no. \n\n ‘Are you a virgin?” I whisper again, knowing this will grab his attention. \n\n“Are you?” he smiles \n\n“Seriously, yes or no Matt.” \n\n“……..no” \n\n“Someones here, and by some scientific law that I have yet to comprehend, if you’re not lying you’re gonna die tonight….and so are they, we need to get the hell out of here.” \n\n From across the room, where Marie and Tyler lay a loud crashing sound interrupts our conversation. It sounds like it was glass, the window probably- followed by their screams. Matt and I run to the other room as our friends attempt to run out. Our reality slows down for a second though, and a piano begins to play soft background music. The hands of my stalker back home grab onto Tyler’s leg, dragging him slowly. Marie reaches her hand out to grab her loves for one last time, and begins to sing a ballad. My stalker and I look at each other too, in confusion and fear. Time speeds up again and the man in a painter overalls rips Tyler away. The remainder of us run as fast as we can towards the front door but before I can open it a machete tears through the door. Jason, the legend, the psycho-killer has his hand wrapped around the other side of the weapon. He does not seem to be concerned with the three of us, but the killer across the room. They both just stand there for a quick second, then a battle begins. We do not take this opportunity to stand and watch but run out into the pouring rain in hopes of survival. \n\n Marie stops in the middle of the woods, “Casey…..I’m sorry…” \n\n“About WHAT??” Matt yells, anxiously and afraid. \n\n“There really was a legend….” A piano begins to play faintly in the background again \n\n“Marie!” I yell \n\n She continues to sing, ignoring my call to her \n\n“He’s right behind you!” I yell again \n\n Drenched in rain and mud I watch my best friend mercilessly killed at the hands of a horror movie killer and I know for sure now…that is what my life is…a movie…a form of entertainment for kids bored on the weekends…on Halloween…film enthusiasts and I’m a victim, it’s never going to end is it? \n",
"\n“Oh my goodness! Jack, look, this fellow here is a composer!” Liam heaped in a sigh as he heard the exclamation about himself. Over pronounced gasps swept the subway train as others took note of this excellent news. The woman who had spoken behind him was joined by a jovial fellow wearing a fedora. A great smile was on this man’s face and he was staring at Liam as though Liam’s face were cast with gold. “Well let me see that there song my good man!” the man who must be jack exclaimed while reaching out physically towards Liam’s notebook. Liam turned his body and slipped the notebook into his coat to block Jacks overreaching arm from taking it. Immediate bewilderment etched itself on Jack’s face as he was turned down.\n\n“Well honey, it looks like this man needs to be cheered up. Why, he is so miserable, that he won’t even share his gift of music with the rest of us in this cabin.” Jack told his significant other. \n“The gift of music has such miraculous power to heal the soul though Jack, why doesn’t he want to share?” The girl asked as though heart broken.\n\n“Why maybe he doesn’t have a mother.” Someone chirped up from a few rows back.\n\n“Let’s cheer him up!” two people cried out simultaneously.\n\nLiam groaned as music began playing from nowhere in particular. Jack began singing in a beautiful tenor voice, and in moments the entire subway car had joined him except Liam. The song was all about how music makes the world go round, and about how one can always confide in the friend known as music. Liam produced a flask from within his coat and cursed himself for not taking a cab to work today. Every few seconds one of the singers, who were all dancing at this point, would attempt to take Liam by the hand to make him join into the activities.\n\nLiam had only managed to keep his sanity by staying perpetually drunk. As early as he could remember everyone in this world would break into dance and song at the drop of a hat. To make matters worse, every individual always knew not only the lyrics of the song, but also the dance routines. He had once boldly asked a teacher how everyone knew the song and dance and was met with a silly look followed by a song entitled “Music wells up from within”. The worst part was that Liam himself had a deep driving desire to write music. If he didn’t he seemed to go mad. He had once showed his songs and lyrics to others, but he was scolded for his work. It was too depressing they told him. No one would ever want to dance to that, they said.\n\n“Next stop, 45th and main” the speakers called out, in a rhythm which just happened to the beat of the song. As the subway doors opened, Liam quickly attempted to make his way through the crowd who began to serenade him as he walked. Liam shot through the subway doors at the last moment and sighed in relief as the sound of the song faded with the departure of the subway.\n\nPicking himself up off the ground he prepared himself mentally for the gauntlet he would face walking from here to work when he heard, “Hey did you see how that guy almost didn’t make it off the subway in time?” Liam screamed and began to run as he heard music begin again while another voice stated “Lets sing about that!” \n\n",
"This isn't supposed to be how the zombie apocalypse happens. There's supposed to be news stories about a virus on TV. It's supposed to start overseas, spread here, and take days to work its way across the country. In all the zombie apocalypse fantasies we had joked about, we thought we would have some warning. I'm not supposed to be chased down by my neighbor, who normally hobbles along slowly as he walks his schnauzers. When I first pulled on to my street and Frank literally ran up to my car, I thought his wife was dying or something, and maybe he needed me to call 911. It was dark. And I had never seen anyone sprint like that - certainly not Frank. But when I rolled down my passenger window to ask him if everything's okay, he lunged for me and made this awful growling sound. I floored the gas pedal, Frank fell to the ground, and I drove to the end of our street. When I got out of my car to run inside, he was hot on my heels. What the hell?! \n\nI slammed the front door closed, barely locking the deadbolt before Frank's body thudded against it with stunning force, before he started frantically jiggling the handle. My heart was pounding out of my chest, I stumbled backward and tripped over 4 of our friend's pairs of shoes. My 75-year-old neighbor's face appeared at the dark window, and I screamed again. And that's when I finally saw his bloodshot eyes, dark crimson circles under his eyes, deep scratches and distinct bite marks on his bloody neck, and Frank's mouth was dripping with foamy, bloody saliva. He hammered on the window with his hands.\n\nI heard laughter coming from the basement. Game night! My husband and his friends were supposed to be playing with the new PlayStation VR headset he got for Christmas. I sprinted to the basement stairs, and nearly tripped as I ran to the entertainment room in the basement where the laughter is coming from. They're playing the Resident Evil 7 demo. The guys laughed again as some terrifying creature attacked the VR character, and our friend wearing the headset shouted and laughed at whatever surprise had just happened on-screen.\n\nI took one second to catch my breath before I shouted \"SOMETHING IS WRONG WITH FRANK!! He chased my car, down on the street corn r, and I thought he needed help, but he ATTACKED ME! Sprinted after my car, all the way home!!!! I think he's a zombie or something! What do we do?? We don't have guns in the house --\"\n\nSmiles faded as everyone looked at me, then slowly shifted their gaze back to the VR game. Mario picked up another piece of pizza. My husband walked over and whispered, \"Frank chased your car down the street...? That guy is slower than DSL internet.\" His friends chuckle. \"That's a funny prank and all, but honey, we're kind of busy here.\" \n\nOur friend squealed and swiped at the creepy lady on the screen as everyone on the couch laughed. I hate horror games. I hate suspense. I hate all that shit. And now that it's LITERALLY HAPPENING 20 FEET FROM THIS VERY SPOT, I'm about to lose it. Frank continued to slam his fists into the glass. \n\n\"I'm SERIOUS!! Listen! Can you hear that?? That's Frank at the window and he wants to kill me! He had bite marks and scratches on his neck, bloodshot eyes, and he was foaming at the mouth! I THINK THIS IS THE ZOMBIE APOCALYPSE! Stop playing the game and come LOOK --\"\n\nSounds from the game made Frank's attempts to break the window seem like sound effects on our surround sound. \".We're having a lot of fun here, but this joke you're playing is kind of lame.\"\n\nSomething happened in the game and everyone laughed at our terrified friend. My husband went to sit by his friends again. My husband had his phone out, probably recording the game demo and reactions to upload to his YouTube channel.\n\n\"I'M NOT MAKING THIS UP!!!\" They laughed at me. They freaking LAUGHED AT ME. \n\nI tried to think. We don't have guns. The axe is in the garage. And we have the large block of knives on our kitchen counter. I'm a girl with pathetic upper-arm strength, and what I really need is our tall zombie-enthusiast buddy Trevor to handle it, but he's deeply invested in this VR game. \"DAMN IT TREVOR, THIS IS YOUR DREAM COME TRUE. THERE IS LITERALLY A ZOMBIE TRYING TO BREAK IN UPSTAIRS!!!\" \n\nThey snickered at how \"convincing\" I was being and went back to their game. My husband gave me a stern look. Apparently I was going to need to handle this myself. I thought of our sleeping children two floors up. Oh, God. The pounding had stopped. Did he leave? Were we safe? Is he now attacking a neighbor taking out their trash? I dialed 911 on my cell as I sprinted upstairs, toward the knife block, and grabbed the cleaver. \n\nMy tired son stood at the top of the stairs to the second floor, rubbing his eyes. \"...Mom?\"\n\nSounds of laughter echoed up the stairway from the basement. A rush of cold January air blew in, as the back door thudded open against the wall. My heart stopped, and the air seemed to be sucked out of my lungs. Frank stood in the doorway, illuminated by the flood light in our back yard, as I dropped my phone to the floor.",
"I forgot to set my alarm to be up for my job interview. I rushed to get ready, got out the door, jumped in my car and immediately headed down town before realizing my hair was a complete mess. \n\n\nTraffic was light so I got into the city early and decided to stop at Starbucks to fix my hair in the bathroom and get a quick pick-me-up. \"You got this Jenny.\" I was saying to my reflection. \"You have all the qualifications for this job, just go in there and show them that you're the new boss around here. Just walk in there like you got balls bigger than he does and show him how awesome you are.\" \n\n\nI heard the toilet flush and a woman walked by me and whispered, \"Weirdo...\" under her breath. \n\n\nI blushed, not realizing someone had been listening in on my pep talk. I walked back into the lobby and right into a man carrying a latte. It splashed all over his button up shirt. \n\n\n\"Oh my gosh, I'm so sorry, let me get you a napkin!\" I said, feeling the blood rushing into my face as I noticed how cute he was. He had shaggy golden blond hair and a stone jaw, soft brown eyes and the faintest smile lines.\n\n\n\"Oh, not a problem.\" he said. He seemed distracted, like there was something more important going on that made this only a minor inconvenience, he kept looking around and out the windows as we walked over to the counter with all the napkins. \n\n\n\"I'm so sorry, let me buy you another drink. I'll pay for the dry cleaning of your shirt too!\" I stammered, I reached for a napkin and knocked over the cup of straws sending them scattering across the floor.\n\n\nThe door to the Starbucks opened with a ding, and the cute guy I had just spilled coffee all over was really intently staring at the man who just walked in.\n\n\"Get down.\" he said calmly, pushing me under the counter. \n\n\n\"Wha-\" I began to protest as he pulled out a gun from under his sports jacket.\n\n\nThe man that just walked in drew a weapon as well and they began to stare each other down. He had a trimmed, well groomed black mustache and goatee, heavy set eyes with bushy black eyebrows and a dark suit. He opened his mouth and with a gruff voice he began to speak - no - he began so sing.\n\n\n\"Today we meet at last to settle the score,\n\nJust like the times we fought before,\n\nOh, Benjamin you thought you put me away for life,\n\nAnd I'm sure you've not forgotten how I killed your wife.\"\n\nThe blond man's eyes narrowed and he began to sing in an angelic voice.\n\n\"From prison I heard that you had escaped, \n\nWhen I read the headlines my mouth was agape,\n\nI knew it was only a matter of time before,\n\nYou came to deliver the death that was in store,\n\nFor two lives you desired to take that day, \n\nBut to my great misfortune, I was away,\n\nSo in my place you took the love of my life, \n\nAnd now I shall have revenge for my beloved wife.\"\n\n\nOh my god, I was quivering. I needed to get this guys number. I started slowly crawling away toward the check out counter, I didn't want to be in the line of fire when these guys stopped singing and started shooting at each other. \n\n\n\"I'm gonna be so late for my job interview...\" I whispered under my breath as I crawled. \n\nThe mustachioed man started firing, and the two began to move about the room shooting in what looked like a choreographed display. The blond man fired his gun, the bullet shattered the window behind the dark man, striking a car outside in the gas tank and causing it to burst into flames. \n\nThe mustachioed man missed and hit the lights above causing a shower of sparks to fall around me. I screeched and skittered faster along the floor, finally getting behind the cashier's counter. \"Oh no, I broke a nail. I just had these done! You asshole!\" I screamed, grabbing a hot cup of coffee from behind the counter, I threw it across the room and it splashed on the face of the mustachioed man. He howled in pain. \n\n\nHe sung in his raspy voice.\n\n\"Oh, woman, by striking me you have arisen my ire,\n\nWhen I kill this man, ending your life is my next desire, \n\nFor no one insults Andover McVey, \n\nI will restore my honor on this greatest of days!\"\n\n\nThe blond man answered in angelic riposte,\n\n\"You'll do nothing of the sort, no one else shall you harm,\n\nI'll strike you down at last by the hand of my arm,\n\nYour days are numbered, my revenge will be had,\n\nAnd you'll remember my name, I am Benjamin Gilihad!\"\n\nThey fired again. Benjamin's bullet missed, striking a fire hydrant and sending a geyser of water into the air.\n\nAndover hit the faucet of the nearby sink, causing water to start spraying inside the restaurant, all over me. \n\nMore shots rang out as the two man encircled, exchanging verbal attacks in perfect key. Finally there was a click as the last bullet had been fired from Andover's gun magazine.\n\n\"Our weapons are empty, it seems we both stand,\n\nI guess we'll have to settle this dispute with our hands!\" \nhe sang.\n\n\"Andover, you are as stupid as your heart is numb,\n\nI knew you were an evil man but never this dumb,\n\nFor your gun carries eight bullets and this one carries nine,\n\nIt seems at last, revenge will be mine!\"\n\nBenjamin answered in thunderous resolve. The light glared off the tip of his brilliant chrome gun, blinding me slightly as he fired his last round into Andover's chest. \n\nAndover fell to the ground, dramatically clutching the wound, and struggled out one final verse.\n\n\"You can strike me down, put a bullet in my lung,\n\nBut at the end of the day, when all is said and done,\n\nYour wife still lies dead underneath her grave marker,\n\nYou gain nothing as my vision turns dark....er...\"\n\nHe collapsed, blood pooling beneath him. \n\nPolice sirens approached down the road and several cruisers surrounded the building. I stood up, my makeup running down my face and my white blouse now soaked and see through.\n\nBenjamin saw me and placed his sports coat over my shoulders to cover me up. \n\n\"That... that was incredible.\" I stammered. \"So... about the dry cleaning.\" \n\n\n\n\n",
"\"Aww come on Troy! I think you need to be cheered up a little.\"\n\nThe crowd pressed in around me, and I tried not to gag as the smell of sweat encircled me like a venomous cloud. \"Um...\" I choked as they leant in closer. \"But... we just... *lost.*\" My final word echoed through the space of the gymnasium, a lost cry for help.\n\nBut they ignored me completely. Oblivious to the horror of our most recent loss at the basketball game, they laughed my comment off, and all I could do was watch with wide eyes as one of the players shouted, \"I think this calls for a celebration!\"\n\nThe gymnasium went wild. An eruption began in the stands - *they were coming for me!* \"No!\" I begged desperately for mercy. \"Please don't do this!\" But they wouldn't listen, and they cheered gleefully at our misfortune. I sank to the floor and wept for the idiocy of mankind as they began their dreadful chorus.\n\n*\"We're all in this together...\"*"
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I think this fits with the theme pretty well :).
It's been done before but I want to see some new ones - re-write a greek/roman myth using modern symbols, people, language, etc.
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[WP] Write a Modern Rendition of an Ancient Myth. [TT]?
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"So there we're these two dudes: One and Seven Hunapu. These brothers we're badasses in playing dice and ball. So much so that the lords of the underworld, Xibalba, got pissed over all the racket made by the dice and ball on the surface of the earth, kinda like how you get pissed when your annoying upstairs neighbor decides to host marching band tryouts, but instead imagine that the marching band really isn't that loud you're just an asshole that's just mad at the world: those are the lords of the underworld. \n\nAnyway, these lords of the underworld, being all goth and shit, hated the idea of anyone else enjoying life, having fun, or or just, ya know, living (go figure). So they hatch a plan to shit on everyone’s day because ‘they want respect.’ Now, these lords of the underworld we're some hard motherfuckers. Their leaders were one and seven death (because obviously) and they gathered their homies like they gathered their thoughts on how to fuck over the Hunapu bros. \n\nThere was Flying Scab and Gathered Blood, and their job in the crew was to make people sick and otherwise hate life. \n\nThen there was Pus Demon and Jaundice Demon who, as their names suggest, made people leak pus because existence still wasn’t terrible enough without all that. \n\nThen there was Bone Staff and Skull Staff who worked on making people starve and turn to bone (so, in general, real compassionate guys).\n\nSweeping Demon and Stabbing Demon, we're a psychopathic pair who stabbed people just for not sweeping up around their house (again, these were very reasonable fellows). \n\nBut the last two twisted fucks: Lord Wing and Packstrap just straight up murdered fools just for walking around. \nAs if being tremendous assholes wasn’t enough, they were also incredibly petty: as the whole plan revolved around killing the brothers just because they had sweet ball playing gear and the lords we're jealous and wanted it for themselves. \n\nThis is how the story starts (at least this part anyway): with the lords of Xibalba sending a messenger to invite the Hunapu bros. to play ball in Xibalba (but really it was so they could kill them and take their stuff). \n\n(This is a really long story, so this is really just the first part, more to follow if folks are interested. ",
"“Okay. First day, new school. You’ve got this.” Dora took a deep breath and walked into to Hephaes High School. \n\nAs if she were in some crappy teen movie, the buzz in the hallway died down instantly as she made her entrance, and then picked up again in the form of fervent whispers that she knew were about her. She inwardly sighed. She couldn’t help it that she looked the way she did. With big blue eyes, an adorable button nose, full pouty lips, flawless skin with a natural glow, long wavy blonde hair, and a body that, as the guys at her last school had put it, was “totally bangin’”, Dora seemed to attract attention no matter where she went…and she had decided a long time ago that it was way easier to just play into it.\n\nDora smiled brightly as she sashayed down the main hallway to the office. More than one of her future classmates gaped at her, looking more fish-like than teenage-boy-like; and Dora was positive she saw at least one boy immediately move his books to hide the bulge that had formed in his pants. She couldn’t help but giggle to herself. Maybe her dad was right; maybe this whole new school thing wouldn’t be so bad after all.\n\nWhen she arrived at the office, the stern-looking secretary pointed her to a row of chairs against the back wall. Two of them were already occupied by boys who both had messy blonde hair and a splash of freckles across their faces. She guessed that they were brothers. In any case, they too made fish faces as they watched her cross the office towards them. She decided to take a seat next to the taller of the two.\n\nWhen she sat down and saw they were still gaping at her, she decided to take the friendly approach. \n\n“Hi, I’m Dora. And you are…?”\n\nThe taller boy came to his senses the quickest.\n\n“I’m Epic. This is my brother, Pro.”\n\nDora cocked her head and furrowed her eyebrows questioningly.\n\n“Yeah, I know…weirdest names ever. Our parents subscribe to the ‘Name your kid something strong so they succeed’ belief.”\n\nDora giggled. “Well, Epic, if you ever want to try and live up to your name, here’s my number.” She swiftly pulled a pen out of her bag and scribbled her phone number on the boy’s hand. \n\nAs if the gods themselves were watching her, the secretary motioned for her to come up to the counter as she wrote the last digit. She smirked to herself as she thought, 'Perfect timing, as usual.'\n\nThe rest of her day was just like any day at any high school. Homework, some boring classes, a few interesting people, and gross cafeteria food. She pulled out her phone on the bus ride home, and was surprised to see that she had 3 new messages.\n\n*Hey, this is Epic* \n\nShe noted that he had sent it less than 5 minutes after she got her class schedule.\n\n*Pro dsn’t think I should b talking 2u, but there’s no way I’m gonna pass up the chance 2 hang out with a hottie like u.*\n\n*Wanna go steady?*\n\nDora smirked at his lack of chill. She decided to leave him hanging a little bit. Let him sweat it out. \n\nShe didn’t reply until dinner that night with her dad. \n\n*Sure, y not? ;)*\n\nAs soon as the text message finished sending, her phone went off again.\n\nHer dad grabbed her phone from the table. \n\n“You know the rule, young lady. You can have this back after dinner.” \n\nWhen he saw her pouty face, he chuckled. “Oh, chill. It’s just a Snapchat from…OlympusDude1680. New friend?”\n\n“I don’t know. I’m not sure who that is.”\n\nHer father got a concerned look on his face. \n\n“Now listen, Dora. I was watching the news this morning and I saw a story about some new virus that is being transmitted through Snapchat. Don’t open any…what are they called? Snaps? Don’t open any Snaps if you don’t know who they’re from. I’m not buying you a new phone if this one goes haywire because you weren’t careful.”\n\nDora rolled her eyes. “All right, all right. I won’t open it. Unless I find out it’s from someone I know. Deal?”\n\n“I’m serious, Dora. Don’t open that Snap.”\n\nDora sighed and pushed her plate away. \n\n“I’m done, can I go now? And, like, can I have my phone back, please?”\n\nHer father reluctantly handed over her phone and she immediately texted Epic.\n\n*Are u OlympusDude1680?*\n\nThe reply was lightning fast.\n\n*What? Who’s that? Do I have competition already?*\n\n*OMG no…just a random Snap I got. Dad freaked and basically made me promise not 2 open it. Parents can b so paranoid sometimes, u know?*\n\n*I saw the thing on the news about it…I think ur dad is right, Dor. You probs shouldn’t open that Snap. Just delete it or whatever.*\n\n*Ugh, not u 2. Ur just worried it’s from another cute boy.*\n\n*O, so u think I’m cute, huh?*\n\n*I won’t delete it but I won’t open it, either. It expires in 24hrs anyway. I’ll just leave it and it will disappear on its own. I’ve gotta get ready for bed. Night, bae.*\n\nThe next day in math class, Dora couldn’t concentrate. Not because her teacher was droning on and on about Pythagorean Theorem, but because she kept thinking about that darn Snap! Who could it be from? What if it was one of her friends from her old school, trying to get in touch with her? What if it was someone from her new school and they thought she was a snob for not responding?\n\nShe opened up Snapchat and peeked at the notification. \"Expiring in 8 hours.\" Her dad did feel pretty strongly about it. Not to mention her new boyfriend telling her not to open it.\n\nThe rest of the school day crawled by. In English class, Dora spent so much time waffling over whether or not to open the Snap that her phone actually got taken away by the teacher. That was a bit of a relief, actually. When she got it back, the urge to open the Snap was stronger than ever before.\n\nShe somehow managed to make it through the rest of the school day. That night before dinner, she peeked at the notification again. “Expiring in 32 minutes.”\n\nGood. Only 32 more minutes. What felt like an eternity later, she checked her phone again. Surely it had to be gone by now. “Expiring in 20 minutes.”\n\nShe couldn’t help it. She left the app open, watching the expiration notice count down the minutes. When it read, “Expiring in 1 minute.” She clicked it open, almost as if her finger had a mind of its own.\n\nImmediately, her phone began vibrating. A dark animation of hundreds of moths fluttered creepily across her screen. “Congratulations, you have released the virus. It will now be transmitted to all of your contacts, and all of their contacts, and all of their contacts, and so on.”\n\nThen, her phone caught fire.\n\nWith a shriek, she flung it onto her bed and quickly doused the flames with her blanket. She heard her dad running up the stairs. He burst into her bedroom, looking panicked.\n\n“Dora, are you all right? What happened? Is that…is that your PHONE? You opened the Snap, didn’t you?”\n\nDora nodded sheepishly.\n\n“I TOLD you not to open that stupid Snap, Dora! Now look at what’s happened! Your phone is melted! If you think I’m buying you another one, you’ve got another thing coming. Those Note 7 phones don’t grow on trees, you know.” He turned and left her room.\n\nDora hung her head and headed to her computer, where she opened up her Facebook.\n\n“Dinner’s ready!” her dad called.\n\n“Coming, dad!” she yelled back. She just needed to update her status really quick.\n\n\n*HMU on here if you need me, my phone is toast. At least my computer isn’t fried. #stillhavehope*\n"
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[WP] Your beloved dog/cat is dying of old age. You're beside him/her and you hear a voice on your mind... He/she is asking you to accept him/her as your spirit animal for the rest of your life
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"The wolf appeared on his very first hunt as he was trekking through the snow. \n\nHe was trembling. The crossbow in his hands felt so very heavy and the dark of the night seemed to press around him. \n\nHe was a Hunter now. That meant he had to Hunt. It was that or die out here in the woods. The old men would certainly have no use for an orphan like him if he did not do as he was told. \n\nBut as he was passing through a lonely grove, he saw icy blue eyes glinting in the light of the moon. \n\nHe raised his crossbow.\n\nThe wolf stepped out of the darkness, stirring up a faint whisper of powdery snow. Its fur was white, almost glowing in the moonlight. Its mouth was a pitch black that grew open in a smile, revealing a deep red tongue.\n\nHe set down his crossbow as it drew near. Somehow he knew it didn't mean him harm. He patted its head, admiring its glorious coat. It rushed forward. \n\nHe waited in the clearing for a moment, wondering if it had disappeared. \n\nThen he saw icy blue eyes in the shadows. He smiled and followed. \n\nThe wolf was always by his side thereafter. She would show him where the bodies were that he needed to collect and burn. She would even help sometimes to distract the Beast he was hunting. \n\nHe was not alone, anymore. There was a little mother taking care of the warmth he needed, of the companionship he sometimes feared he would never have. \n\nThe villagers did not like the wolf. They shunned him even more when it had appeared. He would see them eyeing the wolf with unpleasant intent whenever he returned to the village. But they could not touch the wolf's almost man-sized form. They did not dare to approach him with the saw on his back and the crossbow in his hand. \n\nBut there was something that hunted the wolf as well. He knew it, could feel it watching him sometimes on nights when the moon was full. The wolf was especially jittery, declining to howl when its brethren did. \n\nHe found out what it was on the night he ascended to the Castle. \n\nIt was an old, ancient castle buried deep in the mountains. The old men had sent him there. They wanted to try to get rid of him again with an impossible mission. It didn't matter. He was not afraid of some castle from which no Hunter returned. He was not like the other Hunters who wandered alone through the icy cold land. \n\nThe wolf whined and nearly refused to go. He encouraged it along, stroking its furred side. It slunk beneath his shadow as he drew closer to the tall spires. It crept behind him as he pushed open those aged doors. \n\n\"Ah...at last you come home, my pet.\" \n\nA man was waiting for him, sitting on the grand steps of the castle. He was dressed as a noble of some ancient time, a luxurious coat of fine velvet spread before his feet. His face was sunless. His smile was fanged. \n\nHe froze. A Vampire. A true Nosferatu. \n\nHe wondered how he would get out of this alive. The wolf lunged in front of him, growling protectively. \n\nIn an instant, the vampire struck, lunging forward as well. Its human shape was lost as it surged forward, replaced by some beastly bat-like thing. The wolf howled as its talons found grip within its fur, streaking red across its pure white fur. \n\nHe lunged forward with his saw, striking the vampire on the neck. Its flesh parted but it had shifted back fast enough and its spine was unbroken. It snarled and jumped on him, picking him up with one enormous hand. \n\nIt threw him before he had time to react. He slammed into the walls of the castle. He felt something crack in his chest. He slumped to the ground, iron filling into his mouth. \n\nHe tried to pull himself up. \n\nThe wolf was defending him again. It went between him and the vampire every time the vampire tried to lunge. The wolf's coat was red by now, very very red. At last the vampire grew tired of the interference, it spread its wings, leaping into the air and diving down towards the wolf before biting, deeply, into its throat. \n\nThe wolf screamed. He drew his crossbow. His vision blurred slightly but he took careful aim, a prayer under his breath. \n\nHe released the arrow. \n\nThe vampire exploded in a cloud of dust. He crawled over slowly until he was beside the dying wolf. Their blood mingled on the ground, joining into a puddle of life liquid that was freezing up in the winter's cold. \n\nHe felt very cold. He couldn't quite breathe anymore. \n\nThen the wolf's eyes met his. He felt his heart twitch, as if in sympathetic beat to another's. \n\nA request passed between them. It was inaudible, just a feeling inside his mind, like something too sacred to speak out loud. \n\n\"I accept you, dear friend.\" was all he said in reply. How could he not, when his dear friend was dying because of his pride and folly? \n\nThey shut their eyes at the same time. \n\nHe opened his eyes a while later. The moon was full. He knew it instinctively even though he could not see beyond the castle walls. \n\nSlowly, he rose. His balance was a little off. He padded carefully out through the castle doors. \n\nHe howled lowly in the dark night. ",
"It had been a good 15 years. We'd gotten Gracie as a bright, energetic pup from my uncle, who hadn't been able to give her the room she needed to thrive, due to him living in the city. So when he asked me, a 10-year-old boy, if I wanted a dog, I said yes! Then I had to convince mom and dad to let me take her home out into the country with us. Dad was easy, but mom took a bit of convincing. I had to swear that I would take care of her on my own, but I had no problems with that, I was happy to have a friend!\n\nI wasn't always a great owner. I was an angry child before I hit my upper teenage years and began to develop some real empathy. I wouldn't say I was ever outright cruel, but I certainly was far more loud and angry with her before she really learned how to let us know she needed to go outside. But by and large, we had the best friendship I'd ever known in my life. We ran together, swam together, ate together, slept on my bed together, and I would even swear to you that there were times we laughed together, with her lolling her tongue about as I cackled my silly little head off. \n\nShe always was a bit smarter than any dog any of my friends had, or any other I ever met anywhere. She learned a bunch of words on her own, without me even trying to teach her! We had to start spelling out things like C-A-R, B-A-L-L, S-T-I-C-K, and even D-I-N-N-E-R. She was smart enough to figure out how to work a both a simple lever-handle door knob and a button latch door knob, and she even knew to wait until we left the house before trying to get into the trash if we had thrown away any of her favorite people foods. There were times where I would even swear that I'd turn to look at her, and catch her staring back at me with a look in her eyes that was more than just a slack stare. I always just chalked it up to my own imagination. \n\nUnfortunately, all things come to an end. She had already started slowing down when I went off to college. And then I only saw her for about 3 and a half months a year for the next 4 years. Then when I got home after graduation, I was shocked to actually see her. Her muzzle had gone gray. She was frightfully skinny. Her legs shook any time she stood in one spot for more than a minute or two. She couldn't run much, and her appetite grew smaller and smaller. But her eyes never lost their spark. She kept looking at me, still laughing with me and making that face that I still swear was a smile. \n\nBut then the day came. I woke up, and she was standing on the floor next to my bed. I had been helping her up into the bed at night lately, since she couldn't get into it on her own. And then in the morning I'd have to let her down, since she couldn't get down on her own without looking like she was in pain. So I found it odd she got down without my help. But I looked at her and as she looked back at me, I noticed there was a new look in her eyes. I tried to give her some breakfast, and see if she's thirsty, but she doesn't seem to want anything. I go about my morning, doing some chores and getting ready for the day. At some point I realize that Gracie isn't by my side like she usually is in the morning. I look around, and find her lying on her side in front of the door leading outside. I try to check how she's doing, but every time I touch her, she yelps in pain. It slowly dawns on me, that there is nothing left for her here on earth. Just as I come to this realization, she seems to look me right in the eyes, and it looks like she gives me a small nod. I go and gather up one of our favorite blankets that we've shared many times, then slowly and gently gather her up into my arms. I carefully walk with her out to my car, before making a quick phone call as I start driving.\n\n As we make our way down the road, I talk with her about all the adventures we've had. I describe to her how excited I was as we drove her out to our house when we got her. I apologize for not being more patient as she was learning what was expected of her at her new home. I tell her how proud of her I was that she always got along well with the barn cats and the goats and the cows and how brave of her it was that she always helped to defend the house when our neighbor's pigs would get loose and try to dig up our yard looking for truffles. And then just as I finish laughing as I remind her of the time that I had to wash her down since she got sprayed by a skunk, we arrive at our destination. \n\nI get out of the car, gently lift her out, and then carry her inside. When we get through the door, we are greeted by a pleasant young lady who directs us to a room down the hall. As we enter the room, we see an older man in a white coat, smiling at us.\n\n\"This must be Gracie! Come on over here so I can take a look at you.\"\n\nI set her down on the cushion he has laid out on the table as he pulls out his equipment. He shines a light into her eyes, uses a tongue depressor to check her throat, and even listens to her heartbeat. She endures his tender ministrations without complaint. But then he tries to feel her joints and she yelps again. After asking me a couple of questions, he looks at her again. \n\n\"I understand, son. I'll be back in a moment.\"\n\n\"Thank you.\" Is all I can manage to reply. \n\nHe leaves us and I sit down close to her on the cushioned table. I scratch her neck in the special spot I found many, many years that always made her open her mouth in what had to be a giant smile. \n\n\"I know it hurts, girl. But he'll be back in a moment with some medicine to take away the pain. It won't hurt anymore at all, I promise. It won't hurt at all.\" \n\nTears filling my eyes, I hug her close to me, and I can tell she's trying not to yelp so I let go, and then the doctor walks in. He walks over next to us, and looks at her, then me, before reaching into his pocket. \n\n\"Do you have anything to say before she goes to sleep?\" \n\nI scoot a little closer and prop her head in my lap before responding. \n\n\"I love you Gracie.\" \n\nThe older man silently uncaps the needle that had appeared in his hand as he stood behind her.\n\nShe turns her head and looks at me, that old sparkle back in her eyes. \n\n\"You're going to sleep for a while. I'm not sure when you will wake up. But it's to make you better. And I promise you, that I will be there when you wake up. I'll be there and we can run, and chase squirrels, and play tug-of-war over sticks, and even eat some pizza! And our adventures will go on and on. Now sleep girl, and I'll see you in a while.\"\n\nI lean down and gently rest my forehead against hers as the man administers the shot. She slowly, so slowly, goes limp in my arms. After her body has gone totally limp, the man tells me to take all the time I need as he steps outside. It is then that I let the tears flow. \n\nAnd then suddenly, someone says my name. I look around, bewildered because I don't remember telling anybody here my name. Then I turn all the way around, and I see my Gracie standing on the floor! Shocked, I look back at my own lap, only to see her limp body still lying there. I hear my name again, and then I can tell that it's coming from the Gracie on the floor! I look at her closely, and notice now that she seems somewhat translucent. \n\n\"Hey, can I be your spirit animal? Most people never develop a close enough bond with their pets to be given this choice. But we were something special! So what do you say? Do you really wanna keep adventuring together?\" \n\nJust as I open my mouth to try to...something, I'm not even sure what, I'm cut off. \n\n\"And oh yea, I love you too. But now\nI can tell you in ways you understand.\"\n\nI'm sure the old man and young lady were beyond confused as to why I walked out of there with a huge smile on my face as I carried my old best friend out of there. But why shouldn't I smile? I had just gotten my young best friend back, and better than ever!"
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[WP] A drive-thru experience written as a soap opera
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"\"Welcome to Burger Hut, would you like to try our new mouthwatering heart attack bacon cheese burger today?\" \n \n\"S-Sarah? But it can't be.\" \n \n\"Douglas? Douglas is that you?\" \n \n\"Sarah! But Sarah I was there. The mob had you killed by their blood thirsty assassin three years ago. How? Let me pull up. Let me see you.\" \n \n\"No! Douglas you can't see me! YOU CAN'T! - Not until you place your order. Now, would you like to try our new heart attack bacon cheese burger today?\" \n \n\"But Sarah, I have to.\"\n \n\"Douglas, it just can't happen with us... not unless... what will your order be?\" \n \n\"I'll have a cheeseburger. No bacon. Make it a value meal with fries and a large drink. I'll also have a plain hamburger- make that a value meal too. Make the drinks 2 cokes.\" \n \n\"2 **cokes** Douglas?\" \n \n\"For my wife and I, yes.\" \n \n\"YOUR WIFE! Well that will be $15.87. You can - pull up now.\" \n \n~~~~~~~ \n \n\"Here! Here's your meal you cheating bastard! I can't believe you would marry again, after all we had together. But it's fine. It's really fine. Take your stupid meal and never see me again.\" \n \n\"But Sarah. Sarah - I thought you were dead. It had been three years. I had to move on.\" \n \n\"MOVE ON Douglas? MOVER ON! Don't you know, I'm carrying your child!\" \n \n\"But how? How? That's impossible!\" \n \n\"Of course you'd say that. You say that about everything. Go be with your **wife**.\" \n \n\"Answer me, Sarah! How are you here, and at Burger hut. You're an heiress!\" \n \n\"Was an heiress. Then the mob hired an assassin. But Douglas, what you don't know is that the assassin was in love with me. He only made it looked like he killed me. The result of the blow to the head left me with amnesia though. I lived with him for 2.5 years. One day, I was cleaning up above the cabinets in the kitchen, and I fell and I was knocked out. When I came to, the memories came back - You Douglas - You came back. I ran away before he - Jean Pierre - came home that day. I have to lay low, you know. Keep out of trouble.\" \n \n\"But my child?\" \n \n\"Oh Douglas, when I got back to town I heard you died in the war. I lost everything including you, But I remembered the backup plan we had in case you were ever going to be sent over the border to fight against the uprising. You left a legacy just in case. Oh Douglas, I was beside myself. So I went to the specialists and I had them give me a little piece of you. And now you're here and we can't be together!\" So go. Just go and be with her. Enjoy your new life Douglas!\" \n \n\"But Sarah - our baby. The Mob! I have to protect you. I'll leave Arabella. I'm yours. I'll be yours.\" \n \n\"HEY ASS HOLE! YOU BEEN HOLDEN UP THE LINE! MOVE THE FUCK ON!\"\n \n\n \n"
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[WP]: For some inexplicable reason, everyone in the office is politely pretending not to notice that your boss is a massive rhinocerous.
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"“And I almost forget to show you the most important thing in the office. This room here is our safe-space.” - said Bill.\n\n“Pardon? What do you mean by safe-space?” - asked Mary who was new in the office.\n\n“Well you know we are rally proud of our progressive working culture. This room serves as sanctuary in case anything happens we can hide here. Look at the door, it can withstand 20 tons of force which is very useful sometimes.”\n\n“I still don’t understand why we need this room here. I thought this is a regular office job.” \n\n“Yes of course it is. We rarely use it, but just in case I’ve shown it to you.”\n\n“Why is the door full of dents? And what is this noise?”\n\n“Oh, nothing to worry about. That’s just Malcolm.”\n\n“Who is he?”\n\n“He’s the GM of this office. He’s with us for a month now since the reorganization of the company. You know, there was too much corruption so they decided on a corporate level to send him here.”\n\n“What did happen with the previous guy? Is he in prison?”\n\n“He didn’t make it there. It was a really unfortunate situation. Malcolm tried to explain to him that from that day he would take over the duties of the GM and so his services are not longer needed. He didn’t want to understand it and they’ve got into an argument and there was an accident. You know how these things happen sometimes.”\n\nMary was speechless. She was thinking about leaving but she desperately needed the money. And apart from this story everybody seemed really nice.\n\n“Come, I’ll show you your desk.” - said Bill.\n\n“What is that?” - asked Mary in shock pointing towards the end of the office.\n\n“He is Malcolm.”\n\n“But..he is a rhino..”\n\n“We are against any kind of discrimination at this company so please don’t say that next time. Everyone has the same chance to prove their value in the workplace regardless of gender, age, sexual orientation or race.”\n\n“But that’s...” \n\nMary wanted to say something but she stopped when she saw on of her coworker running away from Malcolm’s office while shouting:\n\n“I gave him the numbers but he didn’t like it. Everyone run to the shelter..!!”",
"The first thing I noticed was the smell. More than any office I'd worked in before, Henrikson Global Solutions had the distinct odor of too many bodies packed together, like the subway, but with an added element of existential dissatisfaction. But, eager to make the most of my first day, I quickly wrote it off to some indistinct circulation problem.\n\nA plain man in a plain suit apologized as he showed me to the roll away desk that would serve as my workstation while they renovate the east offices. While crammed into a nook ten feet from the printer isn't typically the ideal locale for a peaceful and productive workday, it did leave me a stones throw from the double doors of the boss's office and I was determined to get some face time on day one. The smell of trimmed grass joined the other office smells as I struggled to adjust the height on my chair.\n\nA thunderous STOMP jolted me from my struggle. A scanned the office, unable to pinpoint the direction of the sound, the cubicles creating a makeshift echo chamber that made it seem as though it were coming from everywhere at once. What I did discover was that everyone else had continued work unabated. I flagged down a plain woman in a plain pantsuit and asked what seemed to be a painfully obvious question.\n\n“What the h- what was that?”\n\n“Hmm? Oh the stomp. That was just Greg. Probably getting restless. He should be out to make his rounds any minute now.”\n\nMy disappointment with that answer was interrupted by the double doors of the bosses office being flung open, swinging all the way into the wall and coming off their hinges. A custodian sidled in with a screwdriver and new hinge as a massive rhinoceros wearing a paisley tie strode through the opening. It slowly walked the perimeter of the cubicle farm, munching on a shock of tall grass, its gaze drifting from the cubicles on his left to the offices on his right. It stopped a few times to shake his head or nod towards a person I couldn't see.\n\nNearing the end of its loop, the creature turned its head to me. What couldn't have been more than a few seconds seemed like an eternity with my face mere inches from the animal's. I tried not to look at its tie but my eyes betrayed me, if only for an instant, and I could almost swear I saw the rhino roll its eyes at me.\n\nAfter a few moments, he made his way back into his office, preposterously closing the freshly repaired doors behind him.\n\nMy mouth agape, I turned back to the plain woman in a plain pantsuit. She cut me off before my addled mind could construct any of the hundred thoughts I had into a sentence.\n\n“Isn't Greg just the funniest?”"
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[WP] After you see someone get hit by a bus, you realize that you are a sadistic sicko.
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"It all just happened so fast. \n\nAt first it was maybe some kind of shock, but it didn't take long for it to mutate into something else.\n\n\n\"She fucking bounced man, the bus hit her and I swear to God, she bounced off it, then she bounced again off the ground.\" I said, trying hard not to get too excited about it. The Boston Pizza bar was not the best place to be revealing too much about my very socially unacceptable feelings about these things. Everyone in town already thought I was a creep, I didn't need to go encouraging it any more.\n\nFredrik took a sip of his drink, clearly not paying much attention to my first hand account of the days news. It was all over the T.V. Small town and whatnot...word travels fast up here. Not to mention the fact that I had \nprobably said the exact same thing 17 times. \n\n'Calm down...calm down, and shut up before you sink yourself further Wolfgang.' I said to myself in my head.\n\n'You're not right...whats wrong with you Wolf?' I answered back.\n\n'I can't help it...at least I'm being honest.' I replied.\n\n'Well, maybe you should get someone else to help it, it's not normal.'\n\n\"HA!\" I laughed out loud, Fredrik turned and looked at my quizzically. \"What the Hell are you laughing about now freak?\" He asked, still barely listening, the hockey game was on one of the big screens. Montreal VS Boston...he hated Boston...so do I. \"Huh?\" I asked. I didn't realize I had laughed out loud.\n'Idiot. Focus on the game, focus on the game.'\n\n\"Nothin' I remembered something someone said at work today.\" I replied calmly. \"Wolf...you didn't go to work today...It's Saturday.\" Fredrik, turned and looked at me with a raised eyebrow as he said it. I think he always knew there was a bit more going on in my head then I let on. Or maybe I just sucked at hiding it...after all, we had known each other for 13 years. \n\n'Fuck...'\n\n'Stop talking to yourself and say something normal dumbass.'\n\n'Right...uh.\n\n\"Right...uh.\" I mumbled, then I hid myself in my rum and coke. \"You're crackin' up more than usual tonight there bud. That accident get into your head?\" He asked. There was a commercial on the T.V. \n'That's why he's chatty now...the game isn't on.'\n\n'So say something! React for fuck sakes.'\n\n'Say what? Now he’s got me thinking about the accident again.'\n\n\"Ya, I guess...Maybe a bit.\" I said absently. The argument taking place in my head was getting the best of me.\n\n'Drink more...drink more and shut-up.'\n\n\"You're awfully quiet now...couldn't get you to shut-up 10 minutes ago.\" Fred said, then the game came back on and his attention was turned back to Boston getting their asses handed to them. I looked around the bar and the other degenerates sitting along perverts row...drowning themselves in alcohol at a Boston Pizza.\n\n'Man, how did I end up in this shit show?'\n\n'You walked through the door genius, how else?'\n\n'Fuck off...leave me be for a little bit please...just, ya know-'\n\n'Give you a break?'\n\n'Ya, that would be fucking glorious actually...'\n\n'A glorious break eh? Like the way that bus gloriously broke that girls skull today?\n'That was pretty glorious actually. You got me there.'\n\n'Freak'\n\nI smiled, holding my glass up and staring at my reflection in the mirror behind the lines of liquor bottles behind the bar.\n\n'You know it. Cheers'\n\nThen I downed what was left in the glass and signaled the bartender to let him know I'd like another.\n\n'Okay, stop being a creep and talk to Fred...he knows somethings up. He keeps shooting you questionable looks.'\n\nI looked at Fred discreetly. Or at least, what I thought was discreetly, obviously not so much though because he turned at looked right back. \"Whats up?\" He asked, a tone of suspicion in his voice. \"You've got lovely eyes, you know that?\" I said comically. I was just trying to lighten the mood a little, perhaps. I’ve ever been the best at that kind of thing. Generally rutal honesty was my tactic.\"You're so fucked up.\" He replied. He raised his glass and took a sip, still watching me carefully. Then Boston scored a goal. \n\nSlamming his glass, and his other hand down on the bar and scaring the shit out of half the people around us he yelled, \"Aw! FUCK off! What the Hell was that guys, come on get it together...Oi,\" Waving his hand once in the air to get the bartenders attention. \"Can I get another one of these down here?!\" He shouted. I glanced around to see how much attention was just drawn to us. There were a few pairs of eyes on us that was for sure, they made me uncomfortable...as if they could see where my mind wandered. Meanwhile, Fred continued to rant about how he missed the shot because he was talking to me. Dick.\n\n'You should get out of here.'\n\n'Oh yeah? And where am I going to?'\n\n'Don't ask stupid questions, you're talking to yourself, you know where you’re gonna go.'\n\n'No I don't.'\n\n'Yeah you do, creep. Pay your tab and bounce out of here before the rush.\n\n'Rush? Its a tiny town, there is no rush.'\n\n'See? Stop making excuses, just get it done and go. Give in and go look.'\n\n'Fuck.'\n\nI grabbed my drink and shot it back in two gulps, then I waved and made a 'Check' sign in the air, the bartender nodded and went over to the register. Fredrik had seen it, though I tried to be discreet. \"Oi, where the Hell are you going? The game just started man, whats up?\" He asked, clearly catching on to my distracted state. \"I gotta go Fred, I'm just not feelin' too great tonight. I don't know...I'm tired.\" I replied casually, \"I think I'm just gonna go home and watch a movie or something.\" Fred shook his head. \"Don't let it get into your head Wolf, you're diving too deep again, I can see it.\" \n\n'See, I told you, He's your best friend, of course he notices when somethings up.'\n\n'The damage is already done, now it's harm reduction. Pay your bill, and bounce.\n\n'Ya...I guess.'\n\n\"Ya, I guess...\" I said. I looked at my tab as it was handed to me...$36.94. I handed him back two twenties. \n\"Keep the change.\" I said, then patting Fred on the shoulder, \"Night Fred, I'll see ya tomorrow.\" \"Ya man, text me when you wanna go pick up that carburetor, if buddy still wants to get rid of it.\" Fred replied, eyes fixed back on the hockey game. \"Will do, night man. Get home safe.\" I said, then I headed for the door. The walk home wasn't long, but I took a detour.\n\n'Where are you going?'\n\n'You know damn well were we're going...don't kid yourself.'\n\n'What's wrong with me?'\n\n'You know the answer to that too, you're just making it worse now...building it up into something it's not.\n\n'Something its not? I want to go look at the blood on the street, I want to relive her head smashing off that window. The glass breaking, the bus slamming on the breaks...too late, pinning her under the wheels. The way she screamed at first. The gurgling sounds in her throat last...then nothing. It turns you on, gets your motor running...know what I mean?'\n\nI thought about it for a second as I approached the spot where it had happened.\n\nNo hesitation.\n\nI took a deep breath and put my hands in my pockets.\n\n\n'Ya...I do know what you mean.'"
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[WP] There's a new drug on the street. It's called Good Samaritan and it makes you do nice things for other people.
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"Jerry woke up. He saw the yellow, peeling paint of his ceiling and was reminded of just how far he had fallen. He couldn’t keep a job and had to pay his section 8 rent with welfare checks. His blankets were wet with sweat and every time he moved, he was greeted with a the slightly swampy smell of laundry that had been left in the machine over night. \n\nThe pit in his stomach told him he was nothing. The bare, bubbling walls agreed with him, and the blank digital clock offered no objection. He couldn’t keep a job, he was worthless in relationships, and really, he deserved it every time someone called him trash. \n\nHe went to bed with a sense of purpose, but must have slept off the high. Uppers didn’t let him sleep and downers didn’t give him that drive. Jerry picked his jeans off of the floor and slipped them on. He fished around in the pocket and pulled out some wadded up bills. There should be just enough for another hit. Tomorrow be damned, he was going to be somebody today. He tripped over a toy car his little brother left out and made his way to the front door.\n\nJerry slipped into his sneakers and out of his apartment, locking the front door because as bad as he felt, there was always someone who hit rock bottom and dug a few inches deeper. He made his way past the soup kitchen and into the alley between the library and the Habitat for Humanity. A gold glint told him his dealer was waiting for him. \n\n“Back for more?”\n\nJerry looked back at the entrance to the alley. “How much?”\n\n“We’re cool.” The dealer smiled that grin of his, gold tooth catching a bit of light in the dark alley. “Second hit is on me. We’ll talk next time.” He held out a baggie with a pill and Jerry snatched it, ripping the pill out and downing it with a dry swallow. \n\nJerry nodded at the dealer. “Thanks man, you’re an awesome person.” He felt the first rush. \n\nHe left the alley and walked down the street, the high already fading. There were some kids playing ball in the street. A car turned the corner and he shouted the usual warning. They scurried out and he felt amazing but that little good deed faded as quick as it came.\n\nHe had to help people. Yesterday he had been chased out of the grocery store parking lot for trying to help people load their cars, and the old lady *did not* appreciate him trying to help her cross the street. There had to be some place that people needed help. Last night, he pulled some jerk boyfriend off of a poor girl and set them straight, but that had carried him through the night.\n\nToday, he needed to be somebody. He needed to help somebody. He stumbled into his apartment and picked up the toy car he stumbled over earlier. His brother was still out playing. He fired up the old computer and began applying for student aid. Several grants came through immediately but others required an essay. The typed one up, sent it off, and got a rush. \n\nHe applied to an online university. The preliminary checks came in good and it looked like he’d get a full ride. He got another rush, this time tinged with a sense of purpose. He spent the day applying for grants, planning his degree, and planning his future career.\n\nThe next morning, Jerry woke up. He saw the yellow, peeling paint and was reminded of just how far he had fallen, but he rolled over and saw his printed out grant applications and knew just how far he had to go to make a better life for his brother.\n",
"A dealer's first rule is *never use the product.* In this case, I took every precaution to avoid temptation. All the way from keeping a double lidded system on my drugs to wearing substance preventative masks twenty-four hours a day. To nab a hit of *Samaritan* unexpectedly is as bad as saying goodbye to years of hard work. It's a catch 22 that the worthwhile things in life are often the most difficult to keep safe. \n\nThere was a rap on the door, five knocks, a system my boys used to signal a high roller was coming through. This prompted a switch up on my guns position, sliding it under the table into a loading slot. I shifted a bucket sized ration of Samaritan centre table and hit the buzzer on the side of my desk. \n\nThe door cracked open. \n\n\"Boss, Lars Devenison is here from Upstate.\" \n\nThis guy Lars was some thug that had made it big selling coke and small-k, some of the cheap addict driven products. I'd heard about him while chatting with the boys, thing is, what Lars considered big was peanut change in my industry. \n\n\"Send him through . . .\" I placed the gun back on the table. \n\nLars Devenison wore a fur white coat with watches more like wall clocks on either arm. His golden plated teeth screamed bad taste and the white cowboy hat shrouding his widow peak looked fashioned from the previous year's gay pride parade. All in all, the guy's ego had ballooned far above his playing field. It was time I cut Lars down to size. \n\n\"Merick Blint,\" he said, taking a seat opposite. His two security guards wore t-shirts two sizes too tight and had their hair gelled back in a way that made me crack a smirk. The only thing these guys had going for them was their muscles, and those didn't matter when hot metal was the verdict. \"I'm here to buy some of that product, Saramingtons?\"\n\nKid couldn't even get the name right. \"*Samaratin*,\" I said, \"and what makes you think you're worth my business?\" \n\nHe glanced at either of his boys and then flashed a million dollar smile. \"Round my parts I'm the big cat and I could peddle your shit all the way through the litter. You call the shots, I take a cut, we're all happy.\"\n\n\"Bullshit,\" I said. No one that had made it was this stupid. You didn't simmer down and suck up like new cats, you showed your worth in cash. \n\nLars smirked. \"You're right, I was fishing for a reaction.\" \n\nI hit the blue button under my desk, which would alert the boys that we had a time-waster and things could get out of hand. They'd be ready for my next signal.\n\n\"I've got something better than *Samaritan* and so I want to get in,\" Lars continued. \n\n\"Don't play with me or my time.\"\n\nHe waved me off, pulling a wad of cash from his side pocket and slamming it on the table next to my narcotic. \"It's fake money, looks as good as the real stuff.\"\n\nI hit the third button, the boys were on their way. \"If I was here to peddle petty cash then I'd be a fucking banker, not a dealer. Take your ass back up-state.\" \n\nLars stood, hands up in defense. \"For real, this isn't something you'll want to miss. Just look at the stack, smell it, tell me it doesn't feel real or burn real. I'll leave, no noise.\"\n\nThe boys would barge in any minute now, ready to wreck havoc on this kid. I decided to give him the benefit of the doubt, just this once. I fanned the stack, checking each bill, and then sniffed getting that same paper smell with a hint of chemicals. \"Not bad,\" I said, having dealt with money most of my life I knew a good fake when I saw one, \"but it smells like laboratory candy. This shit won't fly.\"\n\nLars's grin sent my insides boiling. The kid could go from serious to a bozo in a minute. \"You don't know that smell?\" \n\n\"I told you not to play with me-\"\n\n\"That's your product,\" Lars said. \n\nMy fast heartbeat was the first response, something I should have clued in on. Then the subtle twitches that I'd heard so much about. Samaritan made you good, matter of fact, it made you so damn good you made church nuns look like devil saints. \n\nThe doors flung open and my guys came in with guns levelled. Lars hit the wall, his two body gaurds had their own guns poised ready to go all out. \n\n\"Need us to take care of this, boss?\" One of my guys asked. \n\nWhat came over me was uncontrollable, like thick silver of my tongue that controlled each contraction of the muscle. \"I need you to do a job,\" I said, \"all of you.\"\n\nThe men in the room looked my way. \n\n\"Take every gram of Simaritan from my drawers, room, safety stash and disperse it amongst the city. Give it to everyone, man, woman and child. Today is the day we share our love --with the world.\" \n\n",
"\"Sir, we have to push it through to the senate. This is exactly what New York needs after the waves of violence recently.\"\n\n\"You can't push this through to anyone Hannibal. It is a drug and it will not be used in the criminal correction process.\n\nWe have community service, halfway houses, parole. The process isn't perfect but it will be destroyed by the introduction of drugs. Drugs we don't know the consequences of using, I might add.\"\n\n\"So we'll run tests on it, trials, the whole nine yards. I'm telling you, this drug is revolutionary. We won't force anyone to take it but the law could allow for an assisted parole if prisoners get out on good behavior.\"\n\n_____\n\n**1 year later**\n\n*A man was just put in custody after an alleged act of sexual harassment, while on Good Samaritan. He is now being questioned.*\n\n\"Sir, please answer truthfully. Were you and are you now under the influence of Good Samaritan?\"\n\n\"Yes, I'm on parole, I gotta take this once a day.\"\n\n\"And did you harass women under the influence of Good Samaritan?\"\n\n\"No Sir. No I did not.\"\n\n\"Did you or did you not catcall women under the influence of Good Samaritan?\"\n\n\"Yes I did, but hear me out. They like it, it feels good. I just gotta acknowledge when I see a lady, that they know they did a good thing today, getting up out of bed.\"\n\n\"That's all we needed to hear, thank you for your honesty.\"\n\n\"Wait, are you trying to say they don't like it?\"\n\n\"No, they don't like catcalling.\"\n\n\"Aww, come on man.\"",
"McCluskey sighed at the body as the medical examiners loaded it -- *him*; it was still a person, no matter how little was left of it -- into the back of the van. Twenty-two years on the force, fifteen in narcotics, and somehow it never got any easier.\n\n'Samaritan?' he asked the beat cop who was first on the scene.\n\nThe young man nodded, and then paused as though even that slight movement was going to be enough to make him throw up. He studiously avoided looking at the smear on the tarmac, the red that stood stark black under the streetlights. 'Looks like it, Sir,' he said. 'We've had a lot of reports of sellers in the neighbourhood recently.'\n\n'Unusual?' Maybe there was something in that -- a silver lining. Small-time dealers were everywhere, but if they could catch the guy who was making that shit...\n\nThe beat cop shook his head. 'Small scale. College kids, mostly. Just looking for a good time.'\n\n*A real good time*, McCluskey thought. *The time of his life, I bet. Right up until it killed him.* The idea sickened him. He didn't have children of his own, but if he had... well, they'd be around that kid's age. *There but for the grace of God...*, he thought. Just a couple of little pills, and he could have been on the other end of the phonecall he'd have to make later that night, finding out that his son wouldn't be coming home. He shuddered. He wouldn't wish that on anyone.\n\n'Tell me what happened,' McCluskey said.\n\nThe cop shrugged. 'I don't know for sure. I asked the witness a few questions, but she was pretty shaken up. The EMTs are with her now.'\n\n'Witness?'\n\n'Yeah.' He pointed over to an old woman -- eighty years old if she was a day -- sitting in an ambulance across the street, a foil blanket around her frail shoulders. A girl in a high-visibility jacket was tending to a nasty scrape on her forehead, but other than that the woman seemed fine. *What the hell was she doing out at this time of night?* McCluskey thought, but the rookie kept talking, interrupting his process. 'Says he pushed her out of the way of a car. The driver drove off, but we should be able to track him down from the license plate.'\n\nA hit and run. Never pretty -- but something didn't add up.\n\n'Wait a second,' McCluskey said, rubbing his eyes. 'You say he *pushed* her?'\n\n'Yes, Sir.'\n\n'Out of the way? He was safe, and he put himself in danger?'\n\n'I know. It sounded crazy to me too, but that's what she said. If it hadn't been for him, she would have been right in the path of the car, and...' He pointed down to the smear on the road. 'Would have been her.'\n\n*And the kid would still be alive.*\n\n'Jesus Christ. That's insane.' McCluskey's mouth was dry as a bone, his head spinning. He'd never heard of an act of altruism like that before. 'How many of those pills did he take?'\n\n'We won't know until the autopsy comes in. A lot, I'd bet. I've never seen anything like this. It's usually paying for people's coffee, maybe helping somebody fetch something down off a high shelf, but *this*...' He paused. 'Must have been an overdose, right?'\n\nMcCluskey's face hardened. 'Let's hope so. Either that, or he was a first-timer and didn't know how much to take. God, he should have been complimenting people on the subway, not sacrificing himself for someone who --' He stopped himself, but his meaning was obvious. *For someone who probably didn't have all that much longer to live.*\n\nIt was the rookie's turn to look concerned now. 'What's the alternative?' he asked. 'If not an overdose, I mean.'\n\nThere was a nagging feeling at the back of the older cop's mind, a feeling he couldn't quite get rid of: a news report from a couple of days earlier about a young woman who'd raced into a burning building to help save her neighbour's cat. She hadn't got out before the floor collapsed; they were still looking for the body. He hadn't made the link before, but now... Well, if there was one thing he'd learned about street drugs, it was that they always got stronger over time. Costs came down and the buyers got used to the high -- and people died. Maybe people were already dying.\n\n'If it's not,' he said slowly, 'then we might have a real problem on our hands.'\n\n_____\n\nIf you liked this story, you can find more over at /r/Portarossa.",
"A black Sedan rolled up in front of a broken down house. All the windows were smashed, yet simply replaced with sheets and wooden blanks. The door was slightly off its hinges, but still held on, whilst the decaying and dead grass lusted for water. A tall man came out of the Sedan wearing a full suit. He had short brown hair, a few tattoo's crawling out from the sleeves and onto his hands, as well as a couple scars adorning his visage. He inhaled through his nose deeply and swallowed the snot and spit that forced itself into his throat. \n\nKnock, knock, knock. Three light rattles onto the door, each one causing it to shake slightly. A few voices from inside could be heard murmuring, and one that was robust and very happy, as the scuttering of footsteps came towards the door. A young man leaned his head out the door.\n\n\"Oh, hey boss,\" he said, before opening the door wider. \"Thought you were the cops.\"\n\n\"What kinda cop just knocks on a door.\" The Boss said as he pushed the door open and marched passed him. Inside, several men with masks on were mixing powders, ethanol, detergents and every other precious thing you could find under a kitchen sink together. Several had burning red eyes. Perhaps from a lack of sleep, more likely from ingesting something to keep themselves awake. \n\nOne was smiling to himself as he worked, only occasionally to stop to air-drum to a rhythm inside his own head. The Boss stared him down with a scowl, before speaking to everyone. \n\n\"How are we all today lads?\" He said with a gigantic grin and a powerful voice. It boomed, like a gun, and echoed inside the heads of everyone in the room. A couple low voices replied, \"Fine,\" \"Good,\" \"Surviving.\" \n\n\"I'm great!\" Said the Air-drummer. \"Absolutely lovely actually, thanks for asking.\" \n\n\"Oh yeah?\" The Boss said to him, smiling to hide his rage. \"Why's that?\" \n\n\"Oh, geez, you're too sweet. Asking me about this all. Well, I woke up today and I felt pretty good, so I decided to walk to work! On my way, I met this real sweet old lady who needed a hand across the road, so I helped her out.\" The Air-drummer was smiling as he spoke, as well as nodding. A metronome to his own words. \"Then I saw this homeless guy, bless his poor soul, so I gave him a couple bucks - Wish I could've given more, but, you know I need to eat too.\" \n\n\"Yeah, yeah, I understand. We all need to survive.\" The Boss said, his eyes now being unable to his rage inside. \"I need to survive. Just like you do.\"\n\n\"Yeah, course Boss. We all do. It's why we're working together.\" A few of the other men had become extremely uncomfortable at this point, aware of what was happening. \n\n\"So I'm going to ask you a simple question then, just one. If we all need to survive, why are you fucking me?\" The Boss was calm in his tone. The only thing scarier than him screaming, was him being calm.\n\n\"I'm not fucking you boss!\" The Air-drummer replied. \"Why would you think such a thing?\" \n\n\"Well,\" The Boss slowly took a few steps forward towards him as he was continuing to speak, \"Some of my product is going missing. Everyone else in the room seems to be... Not as happy as you. What's the first rule mate.\"\n\n\"Don't do your own product,\" The Air-drummer replied.\n\n\"Don't do your own product.\" The Boss mimicked. \"My product.\"\n\n\"Look, boss, honestly I'm not stealing. I'm paying for it. I'll admit, my bad, I'm doing it. But I'm not stealing it. You know I'm not lying, I can't be right now.\" He glanced over to everyone else in his room, all of them nervously working instead of watching what was happening. \n\n\"No one said you can't lie on this shit mate.\" The Boss was now standing in front of him. His imposing stature, the single line of drool dripping out the corner of his mouth and the crooked smile on face were all reasons to sweat. \n\n\"It was me.\" Said another random voice in the room. The Boss turned around to see one of his diligent workers now standing, and staring, and waiting, and absolutely filled with fear. \n\n\"Really?\" He replied to the Good Samaritan, who was withholding all traces of his terror within his soul, trying his best to let no one know how truly horrified he was.\n\n\"Yes Sir.\" \n\n\"Thank you for your honesty.\" The Boss said with a nod, before pulling out the gun he had concealed on his waist and shooting him in the head. His body hit the ground like a sack of bricks. All the other workers stopped. Their hands were shaking. \n\n\"Back to work boys.\" The boss said as he left the building, returned to his car, and drove off. The Air-drummer was gripping his head, tears coming out his eyes, as he stared at the corpse of his friend, who had a few trickles of Good Samaritan falling from his pocket and onto the ground.\n\n--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------\nIf you liked this, check out /r/Rhysyjay ",
"Clive sauntered down a dirty street. Rain fell down, dowsing himself and everything around him in a wet shine. He turned down a seedy alleyway. Sirens, honking cars, screeching of tires, talking, and general busy noise filled the air as Clive walked down the trash filled alley. He came to a steel door, graffiti covered the worn steel. Looking both ways, Clive brought up a fist, and rapped it against the door. There was a thudding noise, and then a slit in the door opened. A face drawn in shadow peered down at Clive.\n\n“You got that new ish?” Clive asked to the face behind the slit of the door.\n\n“Hell yah. You got the cheedah?” The man asked.\n\nClive nodded, sticking out his lower lip. He rustled around in his clothes, pulling out a wad of crumpled bills. He passed the bills through the slit in the door. A few moments later, a small plastic baggy was handed over. Clive snatched the bag away, a terrible greed lighting up in his eyes.\n\nWithout saying goodbye, Clive rushed off out of the alleyway and into the street. He walked down the street, feverish to get home. He hoped on the subway at the C station, his right leg jittering in anticipation the entire time. With a groan of impatience, Clive got off on the next stop. He couldn’t wait until he got home.\n\nClive rushed to the station’s bathroom. Eyes wide and mad, he slammed into a dirty bathroom stall. He sat down on the toilet. Desperate hands rummaged through his pockets, grabbing hold of his baggie. With a jittery head, and shaking hands, Clive brought the baggie up to his nose. In desperation, he took a great sniff, and let the hit rile its way deep into his mind.\n\nWith a sigh, Clive leaned back in the stall. He closed the baggie, and put it in his pocket absentmindedly. His head started to swim, and a great big smile came over his face. After a few minutes, the sensation disappeared, and Clive got up from the toilet. Clive left the station’s bathroom, a big grin planted on his face. He smiled at others, and was absolutely polite and the perfect gentleman.\n\nLeaving the station, Clive came up to street level. With a clear head, and his goals in mind, Clive headed towards the local welfare clinic. He was jobless, and late on rent. Wit his mind cleared, he realized he needed to find a job and pay his landlord. Clive felt positive, energetic, he was ready to face the demons of his life.\n\nA police officer grabbed Clive by the shoulder. Clive turned around to face the officer.\n\n“You okay son?” The officer asked.\n\nClive smiled, and stared into the officer’s eyes. “I’m doing just great friendo. What about yourself.”\n\nThe officer let out a sigh, defeat scrawled across his face. “I’m doing fine, son. Listen, I won’t bust you on it this time. Just make sure you get home safe.”\n\n“Will do, friendo.” Clive said, before turning to stroll back down the street.\n\nThe officer turned to his partner. “Another goddamn junkie just floating around the street. What’s gotten into kids these days.”\n\n“It’s that new drug made by r/wholesomememes man. It’s spread like wildfire across the country. There are some people saying it’s doing a whole lot of good for the country though.” The officer’s partner replied.\n\n“It’s a damn shame, that’s what it is.” The officer replied. “Kids trying to better themselves and all of that shit. Why don’t they just go back to doing heroin and felling bad about themselves like the rest of us.”\n\nThe officer’s partner gave a shrug, and the two turned to continued their shift on the beat."
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[WP] Humanity reaches the stars only to discover everything is already claimed by older races, even if they aren't using it. Earth was claimed a billion years ago, we're currently negotiating with the landlord.
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"When they set out into space humanity had high hopes for exploration and colonization of the stars. That was until they discovered it was like Africa in the late 1800's where all of these other races have claimed large tracks of space. What was worse for them was that the claimants of the Sol system which to have a word with this upstart border infringing group.\n\nThey came in their ship; Marshals of the Great Gronoran Empire in an attempt to apply citizenship and rules to this species as they had the three others that had risen randomly in the last million years. See the galaxy has been at peace all that time by leaving the same list of civilizations in control of their determined areas. The Gronorans saw themselves as some great beneficiary by allowing the species that arose to use their solar system of birth as long as they payed all of the proper taxes.\n\nThe Marshals who sat down adjusting their green tentalic bodies to fit at the negotiating table and pushed forward their usual treaty translated into the crude English of this primitive species. They could not understand why the humans pushed forward a different treaty, and why it insisted that they not only maintain themselves as a separate civilization but be permitted to colonize non-utilized planets and systems. The Marshals insisted this would not due for maintaining galactic peace and that only their treaty could be accepted.\n\nThe humans disappeared into some side room to discuss the treaty more thoroughly and after an hour came out not only accepting it but stating they wished to gift the central government with a present, only to be opened in their presence. The Marshals accepted the signature on the paper assuming the marks to mean their names and accepted a crate the size of a couch.\n\nTheir arrival home was of no importance for to many it was just business dealing with the lesser species. They delivered the gift and paper to the council of kings, and then proceeded to open the crate as instructed by the humans. Upon completing this task they were awarded with a brilliant flash.\n\nThe days that followed chaotic for the Gronoran Empire as it struggled to determine what happened. The explosion had destroyed a good portion of the capital city and many governmental leaders. Once it was traced that the Humans had caused it and that they had signed their paper with the phrase \"Take them from us\" humans were condemned to extinction.\n\nAll the great species and civilizations of old dusted off their ancient million year old ships and prepared to destroy this destructive race. Unfortunately the races at large having been at peace so long forgot the ways of war; and humanity while young had shaped itself through it. All of the advanced technology did nothing as humanity turned their own weapons and ships against them. The races relearned of course, but by then it was too late and humanity had claimed the Milky way and would no longer follow any treaties but their own.\n\nIronic that in their attempts to maintain peace; they unleashed a monster of war."
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[WP] You abduct a child to hold her for ransom, but as you begin to talk to her you realize her home life is actually way more troubling than being kidnapped.
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"I was tired of this silent kidnapping-mobile. Made me unpleasantly aware of guilt and regret gnawing at the back of my brain. I figured starting by talking couldn’t hurt. \n\n“Now listen, I’m not some horrible sort who routinely kidnaps children. I’m just someone rich folks hire when they want things done quietly. I suppose you could call me a ‘private security contractor’ at least, that’s what I put on the business cards.” I began, eyeing the little girl in my back seat. \n\n“In reality, I’m part hacker, part bodyguard, part muscle, and part corporate spy. It’s an interesting life, that’s for certain. Raziel Janus is the name I use for this job. The angel of mysteries, according to some writings, and the Roman god of doors,new beginnings etc, etc.” I continued, letting my history background speak for itself. \n\n“I steal valuable data for clients from Chinese oligarchs, to Saudi oil barons, to Elon Musk himself. A naughty, naughty boy, Mr. Musk, but that’s a story for another day, eh? I also provide bodyguard services, very discreetly, mind you, to everything from foreign dignitaries to corporate magnates, to that new pop star. The little starlets always made for interesting jobs. Once again, another story.”\n\n“As well, I occasionally hire out, when desperate for work, as somebody’s enforcer. Sure, I’m a slim dude, not the sort to fight hand to hand at first glance. I still remember pulling a Keanu Reeves and dodging some cartel schmuck and then throwing him out a fiftieth floor window. Don Alzario is not a kind, nor a patient man. And when he wants someone kicking the bucket before they threaten his turf, he gets them dead. \nHe hired me because he thought I had to be Italian with my name. Wrong, but if nothing else, I was his kind of Catholic. Man, that church the next day...ahaha...good times.” I laughed lightly, worried by the kid’s utter silence. \n\n“The rest of the time, I steal accounting documents, corporate research, etc from any number of places for some very rich men from China. The call themselves the Han Collective, and I don’t mind. They pay well, and party with me after every job like it’s 209. Gotta love those crazy old coots and their ‘Han Dynasty in exile’ gig. Ah...fun times.” I finished, stunned. \n\nI’d undone the gag and all the bindings. The only thing keeping my new passenger and current paycheck in her seat was a safety belt. But she just kept staring forward, or out the window, silent. Even though I’m a merc, a gray dot in this world of society and social media, and kinda heartless, I hated dealing with kids, especially as victims. Leaves a bad taste, you feel. I hadn’t been a smoker till after I had to shoot some Senator’s little boy because he saw me. Now, I’m constantly smoking on a cig, or at least chewing gently on one. I also drink because of a few jobs gone wrong, and all the shit that got me into this line of work. I remember when I was an optimistic little college kid...now, this is my life. \n\n“Hey, kid. What’s your name anyway? I know your pop is Stanis Petrov, the Russian mineral and oil oligarch, and your ma is some kinda KGB spy sent to keep him under Putin’s thumb. But my employer never mentioned what I’m supposed to call you.” Silence.\n\n“Kid, if I don’t get a name soon, I’ll…” I threatened lightly, hoping she’d respond by blurting out everything I wanted to know. \n\nAfter all, this job was high pay, low details, and Don Alzario hadn’t told me jackshit about why I was kidnapping Petrov’s kid. It struck me as odd, maybe the kid knew?\n\n“Please don’t hit me, mister. Daddy hit me with his belt today, and it all hurts.” the little girl in the frilly dress begged, but with the resignation that implied she was used to requests for mercy being ignored. I bit a hole through my lit cig, and my lip. \n\nI didn’t know how I missed the signs. Besides a tech major, I’d done some psych and sociology classes. I’d been fascinated, kinda morbidly, by the unit we did on abuse. The signs were all over, a long-sleeved, frilly, high collared jumper/dress shirt thing, the long stockings, the heavy shoes, the hair long and loose over the neck. They were to hide any marks her pop left on her. Also, the quiet resignation I was met with during the kidnapping, and the lack of a fight, and the silence. She was used to being beaten, abused, and ignored. She probably thought this car a haven because all I did was tell her my story, and threaten. I knew the Don would kill me if I popped the kid one, and moreover, who hits a ten year old girl? \n\n“Kid. Lemme tell ya, I may be taking you to the Don to ransom back to your pop, but I ain’t gonna hit ya. If your pop is, I bet it’d do nothing anyway. Pretty sure your pop will pay up. Also certain the Don will have me do the trade. I’ll do something when that happens. But first, we’re swinging by my place. Got it?” I may be a merc, but I’ll happily put three through a child abuser and his psycho wife. The Don could have my finger, but this girl wasn’t going back to those people. \n\n“Now, act like I’m your friendly uncle or something when we get there. If you can help me with that, this can be nice, easy, and maybe even a bit fun. It’s what us adults do when we wanna play pretend. How bout it?” I extended a hand backwards for a shake as the car automatically parked in my spot by the door of my apartment building. She stared, and then shook it. \n\n“Uh..I’m Alexandra Petrov, Mister Janus. N-nice to meet you.” She stammered.\n\n“Good to meet ya, Alexa. Mind if I call ya that?” \n\n“N-no…” \n\n“Great! Well, let’s get going then.” \n\nInside, old lady Jenkins, my building manager and landlady just looks at me oddly. She knows what I do, but I also pay her far more than the cops ever could. Besides, I don’t do too much that’s really illegal, just many things that society highly frowns upon. \n\n“Who’s this one, Raz?” She slurs, drunk as always. Her voice a dry rasp. \n\n“My niece, Alexa. Say hi to Mrs. Jenkins, Alexa.”\n\n“H-hi.”\n\n“Well, ain’t she precious? I’ll let you two go, it’s way past her bedtime, eh?” the old crow guffawed. \n\n“Thanks, Ma Jenkins.” \n\n“Later, Raz. Rents due next Tuesday! Don’t forget.”\n\n“Ma, when have I ever not paid you on-time, in cash?” I drawled from the elevator doors. \n\n“Fair enough, Raz.”\n\n",
"There are four of them. They are alert and careful body guards. They accompany the principle to and from the school, a route with four turns that is approximately six miles from the house. They were charcoal suits and subdued ties, and their credentials reveal that they are private contractors. A 0445 every morning they sweep the vehicle, allow the driver to enter, escort the principle to the vehicle, and accompany him to the international school. They are armed with service pistols and one of them carries a pelican case that may contain a rifle or other small arms.\n\nWe jackknifed a semi in the middle of the highway to block traffic. Our appropriated road crew van hummed along the indented shoulder of the road and we pulled up short about five meters from the principles vehicle. \n\nWhen we got there, security had already punched out a perimeter in order to negotiate a turnaround for their vehicle and provide security to walk their SUV out of the traffic jam. \n\nI threw the doors open for the team, and we poured out into the stopped vehicles. The security team had no idea we were coming. \n\nWe lit them up.\n\nBullets popped and snapped against the hoods and roofs of other cars as they haphazardly fired their service pistols at us in the traffic. The looked much more professional than they were. We slew them where they stood and gained ground, surrounding the vehicle. The boy was inside, I pulled him out by his skinny arm and walked him back to the van. The team followed close, and one pulled off to throw a tourniquet and some combat gauze on a bystander who had been hit in the arm.\n\nOnce everyone was back inside, we made our way to the primary holding site. We burned the van and and traded off to a pair of sedans. The boy sat between me and my assistant team leader. I thought he'd be screaming and crying, or maybe even just shaking quietly in fear, but he didn't do anything. He just sat there, eyes straight ahead, hands folded in his lap, with a blank expression on his face. He was compliant, even submissive, and held his knees tight together leaving a couple of inches between ours and his.\n\nI didn't like that at all. Kids should be emotional. They should scream and cry when they're scared. They should fight back, or try to, like little animals when they're cornered. I wouldn't hurt him if he did, his safety was paramount. He had been safe in the bullet proof shell of the car before, and our weapons weren't high enough caliber to overpenetrate a human target and hit him. We are savages, the world we worked and lived in made us into savages, but we aren't monsters.\n\nI kept hoping he'd say something, or maybe even ask us why. I was almost on the edge of my seat waiting for it in the cramped back seat of the sedan. \n\nBut still, he never said a word. \n\nThe ransom would be high for him, his father and mother were important people with a lot of important friends that trafficked in and out of their compound. Our strategic goal was to use him as leverage to liberate a couple of soldiers that had gotten captured in his home country, and hopefully extort enough cash out of those important friends his parents had to get us out of the country.\n\nI cracked the window, I was still breathing heavy after the shootout and needed some fresh air. \n\nThe wind twisted the curls of his brown hair around the boy's forehead. He turned his head and looked to me with an expression of pure resignation, then turned his eyes back to the road ahead of us. \n\nA few minutes later we pulled off on a powdery side road that took us to the run down house that served as the holding site. I took him inside, and the team went to work setting up security around the house. I'd made a room for him the best I could, with a small stereo, a bed, and a desk with some notebook paper so he could draw or write whatever he wanted. \n\nI took him into the room and he sat down on the bed. I wanted to say something to him, and if he'd done anything more than look at the floor with his broken little downturned face, I would have been able to find the words for the situation. \n\n\"I'm going to get you some food and water.\" I told him in his native tongue. \n\nI shut and locked the door from the outside, and retrieved some chow and water for him from the kitchen. The stereo came on, playing music softly in the boy's room. Holding everything in one hand, I swung the door open wide and stepped inside.\n\nHe was sitting naked on the bed with his face in his hands. \n\n\"Holy shit, what are you...\" I dropped the food and held my hands up to block my vision ahead of me. In that brief glimpse I could see deep bruises on his arms and legs.\n\nI pulled an extra blanket from the foot of the bed and threw it over his shoulders with my eyes closed. It covered him enough that I could look at him more comfortably. \n\n\"Do you want me to dance?\" He asked me, staring at the floor. \n\n\"No, son. I don't want you to dance.\"\n\nI stood up and felt like I had fire in my veins. I left the boy's door open and walked, then almost jogged through the house, grabbed my rifle, and crashed through the flimsy front door into the yard. \n\nI yelled out to my team, \"Get your gear and get in the fucking cars, we're hitting the compound right now.\" \n\n\"What the fuck, are you serious? We'll never get those boys back if we do that!\" My assistant team leader yelled back.\n\n\"I'll explain when we're done.\"\n\n\"This is fucked, Tom.\" He said to me as the team behind him swiftly threw on their body armor and threw extra ammo in the trunks of the cars.\n\n\"They're fucking soldiers, man. They'll understand.\" I said.\n\nNOTE: The peculiar beginning is a SALUTE report modified to fit narrative prose, in order to reflect the military background of the criminals.\n\nDOUBLE NOTE: The boy has been treated as a \"bacha bazi\" or dancing boy. I know the WP says \"her\" but in this case these boys are treated as a kind of inter-sex prostitute. The main character knows this, and that's why he is infuriated immediately. This is a subtlety that I thought should be addressed for those not familiar with the subject, however if you know about this aspect of Afghani culture it's more obvious.",
"God I'm starving. Thank fuck she seems pretty calm, a little confused. I think there's a McDonald's up ahead. We might be fine going through the drive through.\n\nIn the dim lights from the street lamps the girls face looked sleepy. Her chubby cheeks were red from the winter air, but she was probably warm now in the car.\n\n\"Can we go inside? I want to play on the- on the play pen.\" Her voice wasn't harsh and desperate like kids who only rarely are allowed to do something they love. Good. Her parent's probably love her. Probably cater to her every insignificant whim. \n\nShe is pretty calm.\n\n\"Yeah. And - if you're a good girl and do as you're told, you can have whatever you want to eat too.\" \n\nShe didn't react much to that. I should soften my voice a bit. \n\n\"Deal, Jenna?\" \n\n\"Ohhkay,\" the girl responded, with a little smile.\n\nThe snow crunches a bit as we park. We run inside together, I grab Jenna's hand. I order a McDouble, and she orders two chocolate chip cookies. Takes probably a minute before our food is up.\n\n\"Can I get milk too?\" Jenna asks, halfway through the first cookie with melted chocolate all over her fingers.\n\n\"Sure, hold on.\" I purchase the milk and come back, keeping one eye on her the whole time. I sit back down and open the plastic lid.\n\n\"Are you my new daddy?\"\n\n\"N- no. I'm not your new dad. You're daddy misses you very much, he'll be happy once you're home.\"\n\n\"No he won't. He's not my dad.\" She shoved some more cookie in her mouth. \"I don't want him.\"\n\nKids. They always hate their parents from time to time, especially when the parents don't give them anything real to worry about. At her age I'd have been happy to have anyone to call a father.\n\n\"Well, your mommy will definitely miss you.\"\n\nJenna looked down at her cookies unhappily. Her eyes reddened and welled up, and her chin dimpled as she frowned. \n\nShit. \"It's okay! You'll see her soon, I promise. I'm just taking care of you for a couple days while your mommy and daddy put together a special surprise for you!... You're going to love it!\"\n\nI don't think she heard me really. She keeps getting redder. Cheeks, eyes, lips - all bright red. \n\n\"Nobody loves me. I'm just a stupid idiot.\"\n\nSix year old, adorable privileged girls don't normally talk that way. \n\n\"Are there mean girls at school telling you that? You know what you could say to them?\"\n\n\"No.\" \n\n\"You can tell them to shove it up their twats.\" The mental image of this adorable girl chewing out the mean girls seemed precious.\n\n\"Nooo. It's not girls, it's mommy.\" Tears began streaming down her cheeks after she couldn't hold them back any longer. \n\nThose fuckers. Who calls little kids names like that? Well, aside from teaching them to call each other that. But that's self defense. Mean girls deserve that. And I guess it's not that uncommon, my parent's did it.\n\n\"My parent's used to call me that too.\"\n\nJenna looked up. \n\n\"Have some more cookie! It's gonna get cold!\"\n\n\"It already is cold.\" Jenna sounded like the most miserable creature in the world.\n\n\"Okay, hold on, I'll get it heated up again.\" I grab the cold cookie and take it back to the counter. The clerk rolls her eyes at me as she turns away to put it back into the oven. I watch as Jenna sips some milk. The cookie comes out pretty hot. I walk slowly back to the booth so it'll cool a bit.\n\n\"Here you go! One nice, warm cookie!\" Jenna looks much calmer, but the redness remains in her face. She accepts the cookie and begins to alternate bites of cookie with sips of milk. I wait for her to finish quietly, unsure of what else to say or do. \n\nWe clean up (Jenna picks up her own trash) and go back to the truck. I recline her seat as much as I can and turn up the heat so she can go to sleep. We have a bit of a drive ahead of us. \n\n\n\n",
"Ya know, it's not that hard to kidnapp a child. You gotta search for a shithole of town where nobody cares, get yourself a car, not a van. To obvious and too stereotypical. Just a big car. Go to the next store and get all you need for some chloroform. It's not that hard. Everything ready i followed the little girl. She couldn't be older then 7. Open the door, ask for a direction and pull her in. Nobody saw shit. And even if , Nobody would care. Drive her to your safe place. She was silent for the first few days. Untill i decided to break that silence with some Pizza. I sat her down, and opened her handcuffs. But she couldn't escape after all, the chain arround her leg was connected to a pipe. She ate. \"Do you know what i want?\" A tiny nod from her. Seems like she wouldn't speak after all. Some minutes Later she finished. \n\"You make good pizza. Should I lick your pepe?\"\n\"Errrr what?\"\nI turned arround . Her innocent eyes stared right into my soul. \n\"Why would I want you to.... what?\"\n\"Thats what mommy and daddy told me. If somebody is nice, lick their pepe or Dodo to say thank you\"\nMy stomach turned arround. \n\"No kid.... You don't need to. \" My thoughts gone crazy. What are thoose sick bastards. Who could do something to their own Child? I mean I kidnapped countless kids. But I returned all, even if their parents couldn't pay. One time , a few years back I even bought a teddy for that poor boy. She started to tear up:\" But if I don't lick... you will punch me. And lock me in that cage....\" I heard enough. I could get some money out of this and help this little girl. \nOne call and a few days later the kid, Janna sat next to me on the couch, playing Mario 64. I told her what her parents did. I unlocked the chain and told her she could go. She never did . The doorbell rang. Some friends of mine, a couple . Both infertile. They lived two blocks away. One last hug from janna and she walked away with her new parents. They told me I could still see her. I could become her good uncle. We'll see about that. 3 hours later I was at her old place. Picked the lock, got into the house and scared the crap out of thoose monsters. They had the choice. Sign the adoption papers for my friends , or get a bullet to their heads. They signed. Before leaving, I stuffed my bag full of her old toys. Another three hour drive. They where eating breakfast. I gave her the bag\" Uncle Dean? Can you do something for me?\" \n\"Sure Janna\"\n\"Burn everything.\" \n\nSorry for the formatting and any grammar misstakes, I am on my phone and no native speaker. \n\n",
"I place the bag over her head. She doesn't struggle. They always struggle. \n\n\"Stay quiet,\" I tell her. Although, I don't need to. She hasn't uttered a single word. No screams, no fighting, absolutely nothing. It's almost boring. \n\nI toss her over my shoulder and make my way through the house. I watch where I place my feet. A pink bone nearly detonates but I move my foot at the last second. I see the family dog lying on her bed. Or, rather, what's left of it. It's hard to make out this late, but all I can see is shredded blanket. \n\nThe dog cowers in the back. I walk towards her, careful not to tip the girl on my shoulders. She begins to sink lower into the ground. As I reach my hand out towards her, I hear a small whine. It's as if she's crying for me to help. A few tense moments later and I've got her, too. Both of these defenseless beings are far too willing to come along with me. \n\nI continue towards the front door. This is supposed to be fun. A challenge, even. I'm essentially carrying an 80lb doll on my back and a 50lb doll on a leash. \n\nA set of photographs out of their frames litter the ground. I pick them from the cigarette ashes. It's photos of the girl I carry on my shoulder now. Despicable, reprehensible, revolting photographs. Broken bones, shattered hearts. No. \n\nI set the girl down. She tightens her grip on me. She doesn't want me to leave her in this hell hole. \n\n\"Hang on, sweetie,\" I tell her. I leave the dog with her and head upstairs. I've got about ten steps to decide whether I'll use the knife or the gun. ",
"She sat in the car quietly, not bothering to protest as he drove past the park he had told her he would drop her off at. She stared out as the park went by and said nothing. \n\nHer silence was unnerving. \n\n\"What's your name?\" The question escaped him without much thought. He cursed himself moments later. He didn't want to get attached. It wasn't good to get attached. \n\nShe looked at her hands. \"...Alice.\" \n\n\"Alice.\" he repeated. \"Behave yourself alright, Alice? I'm going to take you somewhere for a while.\" \n\n\"Ok.\" \n\nHe drove quickly through the streets, somehow feeling like he was being followed even though he knew he wasn't. His palms felt wet and he kept having to wipe them on his jeans. When he finally reached his safehouse, he parked the garage in the car and dragged her out of her seat by the wrist. \n\nShe didn't protest, not even when he started tying her hands together with masking tape. He watched her suspiciously, wondering what was going on. \n\n\"You're not scared?\" \n\nShe shook her head. He frowned and pulled her along by the shoulder a little roughly. She didn't make a sound. \n\n\"Why aren't you scared?\" \n\nShe looked at him dully. \"...I don't care.\" \n\n\"What?\" he thought he misheard her, \"Aren't you scared you'll never see your parents again? That happens sometimes...\" he added menacingly, trying to provoke a reaction. \n\nShe stared at him. She looked away. \n\n\"I don't want to see them again.\" \n\nHe frowned, already unnerved. He pulled her along into the carefully blocked up bedroom he'd prepared in the basement and locked her inside. He noticed the bruises peeking out from the corners of her sleeves. \n\nHe drew his burner phone from his pocket, typing in the number of her father- a wealthy businessman. His finger hovered over the call button. \n\nHe paused for a very long time. "
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[WP] The true reason that the original American Constitution document is protected so heavily is because it is a fixed point in time: If anyone was to edit it in the present those changes would ripple back in time to when it was originally written.
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"Outside there were riots. The sea of people were hungry, oppressed and abused. The sun fell and the shadows of the White House grew long. The gun shots started to come more frequently.\n\n\nHe envied the Romans. From his refuge he watched the darkening White House. He imagined the sun was setting on his empire. He imagined this was how consulship and the Republic ended in Rome, and how the Empire began.\n\n\nHe saw himself as Caesar. The country was within his grasp. There was only one thing he had to do.\n\n\nThe military had fractured. Only the loyalists remained and they surrounded him the derelict building. The chants outside passed in and out of hearing and the walls rattled.\n\n\n\"Great President, it is unsafe here. We have to leave.\"\n\n\n\"No, no, *noo*,\" he said. \"We have big things to do, big things. Once I get hold of it, and believe me I will, the Empire will be great again. Really great. Spectacularly great.\"\n\n\nBut the crowds were armed and hell had broken loose. He had to get to the Capitol where the Constitution was held, and he could cement his fate.\n\n\"Where is the helicopter?\" he asked.\n\n\n\"It was shot down. Great President we really cannot stay here.\"\n\n\nThe gunshots came in a burst. The seconds lasted forever. Screams came and screams went. The safehouse was no longer safe. The guards led him to the back. It was a residential house, and they went to the back yard. The lawn was green and the fence shook. \n\n\n\"Great President, maybe you should consider what we...\"\n\n\n\"No, no, *noo*.\"\n\n\nThey had wanted him to cut off his hair, to better blend in.\n\n\n\"Take me to the Capitol.\"\n\n\nThe men jumped the fence, carrying him on their backs. The streets here were clear but the protestors were close by and it was unsafe. They found a car parked and broke into it.\n\n\n\"Is this the best you can find for me? Do you know who I am? I drive only the best...\"\n\n\nBut they took off. The backroads were navigable and the falling shadows of night cloaked them. They drove as far as they could. On the radio, they heard that the last lines of police had been routed. The protesters stormed the White House, demanding his head. Some of the army had come with the protesters, and there were tanks and artillery.\n\n\n\"Why are we listening to this fake news? It just upsets me, it really does.\"\n\n\nThey came to the main roads and had to get out. Too many people crowded the way.\n\n\n\"Great President we can go no further.\"\n\n\n\"No, no, *noo*. We are going to the Capitol.\"\n\n\nHe looked the officer in his eye.\n\n\n\"*I* am in charge here. You do as I say.\"\n\n\nThe officer had a look on his face. He was loyal and his service was all that he knew.\n\n\n\"Get on my back,\" he said.\n\n\nThey ran through the crowds and were safe at first. Then his hair gave him away.\n\n\nThe crowd collapsed inwards and the small team of loyalists began firing. The dead fell in flashes of white as the night fully came. They ran ahead with the President on their backs and made it far. The protesters had mostly converged at the White House and the Capitol was clear and in sight.\n\n\nThey made it to the doors and he used his golden key that he had made.\n\n\n\"I am truly the Romans,\" he said as he opened the doors.\n\n\nIt was deserted, the Capitol, as all historical legislation had been discarded since his assumption of office. He looked in the dark until he found it. The constitution was there, old and wordy, and not to his tastes. But it had power. It had the power to make him Caesar.\n\n\nOutside, the crowds were coming with fervor. They wanted his head. His guards could not keep them at bay and many of them had died during the mad run. \n\n\n\"It's too late for them though,\" he said, again out loud.\n\n\nHe held the constitution in his hands and got out a pen. The doors of the Capitol were breached and the protesters were pouring in. \n\n\n\"Sad!\" he said and pulled out his pen.\n\n\nBut he was his own undoing. The pen was a full sized thing, heavy and fine, but too much for his small hands. It fell to the floor and it was all too late. The Great President fell soon after.",
"The vault rose up through the National Archives, right as the clock nearby chimed 10 AM. The Archives had just opened, and I knew that the throngs of tourists would soon be pouring in to gawk at the documents that had founded our nation. Most assumed the yellowing parchment was a relic of two-and-a-half centuries ago, no longer relevant to the times. I knew better.\n\nThe vault protecting it, supposedly bomb-proof, water-proof, dust-proof, shock-proof, alien-invasion-proof, whatever the latest craze was in protection technology, was a farce. The real protection was imbued in the very place itself. The temporal fault line we had discovered underground in Washington, D.C. was the real reason the National Archives had been constructed in the first place. I was one of a handful of people that knew it even existed, let alone where it was, or why it was here. \n\nEvery night, after the vault lowered into place, the rift in time took the Constitution away from this time, to a time unknown to us still. We always put the Vault into the same place every night, and the paper disappeared like clockwork. We had no idea why we had to do it, but the consequences were disastrous if we did not. \n\nA few years ago, the vault had started off just two seconds late on its downward journey, but that had caused a two week shutdown of our government. The Congressmen on the hill claimed there was some budget issue, but we knew it had been caused by the original document that created Congress. \n\nOne of the weirder parts of the job when I first started was that we were instructed to never carry any pens or pencils while on shift. No writing implements were allowed within 50 feet of the Constitution, even when it was downstairs. We had our suspicions, mine was that any change to the Constitution would stick when it went to whatever time it went to at night. \n\nA few days ago, I had smuggled a pen into my job, and added a phrase before the Constitution vanished into the abyss. It was in the Presidential Eligibility clause, Article 11, Section 1, Clause 5. \n\n\"No Person except a natural born Citizen, or a Citizen of the United States, at the time of the Adoption of this Constitution, shall be eligible to the Office of President; neither shall any Person be eligible to that Office who shall not have attained to the Age of thirty five Years, and been fourteen Years a Resident within the United States.\" \n\nI had penned in only seven short words, and when the Constitution disappeared, there was a shock wave that rippled outward from the vault. \n\nThe next thing I knew, I woke up on Inauguration Day, and someone I had never seen before as a candidate was getting inaugurated. I don't know what I did, only that I have to go back tonight and change it before its too late. You probably won't even remember this timeline once I change it back, and I hope for all your sakes that erasing those words will work. We will have to see tomorrow morning."
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[WP] For several weeks you've had a reoccurring dream of a day at the beach and there's always one girl that catches your eye each time, then one day while you're out and about you see the exact girl from the dream...
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"LISA\n\nOh my god.\n\nBENNIE\n\nHmm?\n\nLISA\n\nRemember that dream I keep having?\n\nBENNIE\n\nThe Rob Reiner sex dream?\n\nLISA\n\nNo, no. What did I say about never bringing that up?\n\nBENNIE\n\nI remember you offering to sleep with me to prove you're a lesbian but nothing after that. \n\nLISA\n\nThe dream at the pier.\n\nBENNIE\n\nOooh. I fell in love down at the pier, you were sunbathing, I was around.\n\nLISA\n\nNow is not the time.\n\nBENNIE\n\nI feel it's always time for Blondie.\n\nLISA\n\nWell that's why you don't get dates. I'm gonna go talk to her.\n\nBENNIE\n\nAccidents never happen.\n\nLISA\n\nQuit it Debbie.\n\nBENNIE\n\nWill anything happen?\n\nLISA goes over to DREAM GIRL\n\nDREAM GIRL\n\nHi.\n\nLISA\n\nHi. Nice day isn't it?\n\nDREAM GIRL\n\nI like it a little bit less humid, but other than that.\n\nLISA\n\nOh yeah, it's like being waterboarded.\n\nDREAM GIRL\n\nI'm sorry, have we met?\n\nLISA\n\nI think I would've remembered.\n\nDREAM GIRL\n\nYou look awfully familiar, and I say 'it's like being waterboarded' all the time.\n\nLISA\n\nWell maybe we're exactly the same.\n\nDREAM GIRL\n\nWhat's your favorite tv show?\n\nLISA\n\nSeinfeld.\n\nDREAM GIRL\n\nNo. Really?\n\nLISA\n\nIt's possible, I mean, it was wildly popular.\n\nDREAM GIRL\n\nOkay, favorite movie on three. One, two, three.\n\nLISA and DREAM GIRL\n\nAll About Eve.\n\nLISA\n\nBullshit.\n\nDREAM GIRL\n\nHi, I'm Lisa.\n\nLISA\n\nBullshit. Lisa what?\n\nDREAM GIRL\n\nLisa Carrillo.\n\nLISA\n\nBullshit. Who are you really?\n\nDREAM GIRL\n\nLisa Carrillo.\n\nLISA\n\nWhat are your parents names?\n\nDREAM GIRL\n\nPat and Dana.\n\nLISA\n\nWhich is Pat and which is Dana?\n\nDREAM GIRL\n\nMa is Dana.\n\nLISA \n\nBullshit. Have a nice time 'Lisa.' \n\nLISA goes back to BENNIE, running toward the exit\n\nLISA\n\nCome on Bennie!\n\nBENNIE\n\nHow'd it go?\n\nLISA\n\nVery well, thank you.\n",
"Ugh, that dream again. It was no different than the last three nights, no matter how much I try to change it. The same terrible dream.\nThe result is always the same: I'm running down the beach to catch a frisbee. I get past it to make the catch when I see this amazing girl. A more beautiful girl I have never seen. She is lying in her pink bikini under an umbrella, watching me. I lock eyes with her, she smiles. I get lost in that heavenly smile; it is love at first sight.\n\nThen it hits me. The frisbee. Right in the side of the head.\n\nI go down. The girl laughs at me. I wake up.\n\nStupid, stupid, stupid. Every time. No matter how many times I dream that dream, I never catch the damned frisbee. I embarrass myself in front of the literal girl of my dreams every night.\n\nToday some friends have decided to go to the beach to have fun. I grab my frisbee and go with them. Maybe if I practice in real life, I will be prepared for my dream. I need to catch that frisbee. Just once. That's all I need.\n\nWe're out there for two hours, having fun. Throwing the frisbee. Then my friend throws one a little too far down the beach. I go running after it. It starts to slow in the air a little. I manage to get ahead of it. Out of the corner of my eye I notice something. That girl. I can't believe my eyes. It's her. The girl of my dreams. I stop and stare. She stares back and smiles. No! Not this time! I can't get distracted by her. I need to... what did I need to do? I can't let this woman distract me from something. What was it?\n\n*Wham* \"Right,\" I think as I head toward the ground, \"the frisbee\". \n\nI look over. The girl laughs at me. Just like in the dream. I ruined my only chance to impress the girl of my dreams. \nThen I see her getting up. She's coming over to me, still smiling. I brush the sand off of my face.\n\"Nice catch,\" she says. \"Way to use your head.\"\n\nI laugh and smile back. Maybe it wasn't such a bad dream after all. I only woke up too soon."
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[WP] At the same time, every phone receives the same text: "2 years, 9 months, 14 days, 6 hours. The end is near... We're watching you."
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"November 8, 2019, at approximately 7:38. That's the supposed end of the world. Or at least, that's what the texts said.\n\n\"How did you do it?\" I confronted my friend Andrew. \"Everyone is saying that got that stupid message, and something tells me you're behind it.\"\n\nAndrew was just the right about dark humor and obscure know how to send a mass text to everyone in the world.\n\n\"It wasn't me.\" He told me with an expression of anxiety. \"This is huge. It's too big to just be some punk kid's prank. You've got to see this.\"\n\nHe showed me all sorts of documents that he already procured from less than reputable sources on the deepweb. I read pretty much everything he shoved at me, but couldn't parse quite what it meant.\n\n\"The message originated on a satellite, and there's some evidence that the magnetosphere is being bombarded extremely hard. The text isn't from any carrier on the planet. Don't you see?\"\n\n\"It's just some.. error.\" I shrugged, but he was unconvinced.\n\n\"It can only be one thing.\" He paused for dramatic reveal, but I just sighed, already knowing what he was going to say.\n\n\"Aliens.\" I finished for him.\n\nOr, so he claimed. But, shortly after he told me this the president released a press conference where he proclaimed that it was the act of his political opposition, who then claimed it was a Russian trick. I didn't know who to believe.\n\nPeople pretended to be furious, but for the most part, they kept going about their day to day business. I had better things to do than worry about some cryptic text, and so did the other 99% of humanity.\n\n\"School just isn't important right now.\" He explained as he unloaded his car, with all of the stuff he brought home from college. \"We've got to figure out what's going.\"\n\n\"I don't know, man.\" I tried to dismiss him gently. \"It was just a stupid prank. We've still got to go to work, and everything.\"\n\n\"Well, about that...\" He trailed off before explaining that he was also quitting his job.\n\nI would check up on him every now and then, to make sure he was still eating, and changing his clothes. But, more often than not, I'd leave his house questioning myself.\n\nIn only a few weeks, he had found all the private numbers that the text had broke through and on a stereotypical map on the wall, he ran a red thread to and from the contacts.\n\nAfter I got my nerves together, a month later, I returned to Andrew's house, with a warm, homemade meal. This time, all the lights were off. His home was completely lit by candle light, revealing that the map was now covered in newspaper sent in from places across the world.\n\n\"Here's the thing. Whoever it is said they're watching us and that the end is coming. They've got be stationed on the moon or even Mars.\" He tried so desperately to convince me. But, I was having none of it.\n\nBut, then the president released another statement, on January 1st, 2019. There was a multiple masses heading for our planet, from a only a few AU's away. NASA had concluded they were ships.\n\nAll talk of walls, and political dissent went out the window as the nation was thrown into a wartime fervor. Rockets, bombs, and aircraft were being created at intense rates.\n\n\"I was laid off.\" I explained to Andrew when I showed up at his home again. \"With 'the end' in two months, nobody needs medicine.\"\n\n\"I told you!\" He pointed at me, but his usual arrogance was replaced with a sad revelation, that being correct means the end of the world.\n\n\"I could get a job in the factory, but I don't know. If they came here from light years away, how do we even stand a chance?\"\n\nSo, for the last month, I tried my best to fulfill a bucket list of sorts, but it wasn't like in the movies. With the looming end, nothing was enjoyable anymore. I found myself just constantly online, reading increasingly depressing news, day in and day out.\n\nRussia didn't like that China was building so many nukes to fight the aliens, and the EU was fracturing due to Russia occupying Eastern European states. Temperatures were at all time high. Everything seemed to be going wrong.\n\nThen on November 7th, with only a day left, I thought about just sleeping until it was all over. But, the heat made it nearly impossible, so I just stared at the ceiling for hours.\n\n\"Here, let's watch it go down.\" He flicked on the news for what felt like the millionth time. \"Everyone's getting ready.\"\n\nAll across the world, rockets were being launched, armed forces, larger than any in history loaded onto ships, and readied for battled.\n\nAndrew and I held our breaths as we watched nukes being shot into the sky, live. Long, tubes of steel and plutonium left the atmosphere and only grainy video followed. But, even on the grey and black image, we could make out the massive explosions as it rocked the sides of the ships that approached the Earth from a few million miles away.\n\nThen, both of our phones buzzed in our laps, simultaneously. Andrew and I shared a look of shock and despair before we check the message.\n\n**We tried to help you...**\n\nThe message read.\n\nI stared at Andrew for a long time, trying to find some meaning in the words, but we sat in silence until an alert came from the television.\n\n\"Everyone outside should immediately find shelter. If possible, find underground shelter.\" A robotic voice announced. \"An series of solar flares have seemed to intensified in the last few hours. Stay as covered as possible.\"\n\nI looked to my watch and the time said 7:34. When I looked back up, Andrew was already standing and tugging me to follow, we ran outside to his basement stairs. The very air stung with heat and energy. We nearly fell down the stairs in haste, and crouched together in the corner as the sound crashing come from upstairs.\n\n\"How could we have known?\" Andrew's voice shook when he asked me.\n\n\"They warned us.\" I answered, then everything went bright."
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[WP] You were an ordinary snail until another snail offered you a job as a decoy snail.
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"It had been a day like any other.\n\nNo day, in fact, is truly like any other, but when your earthly form is that of a snail, generalizations begin to be acceptable, to some degree.\n\nHowever, these generalizations are also troublesome at times. When a life is as mundane as mine, finding peculiarities or distinguishing factors becomes a hobby, whether through an intentional effort to develop such a habit or through a subconscious, evolutionary reaction. The oddities of life become the excitement to ignite a day. Spices in a supper, sparkles on a scarf, and in my case, suspense on the streets: all are examples of how one might seek some purpose or some noteworthiness in his life.\n\nBut, let us return to a time before I had found my excitement at the bottom of Pandora's box. Let us return to a time when I was the chum of the average man, wasting away in a lonely old bar with broken windows and wicked beers.\n\n*****\n\nI took a long drag of my smoke-puff cigar. It was a bland brand, but cigarettes in and of themselves had become rare in recent times, so I took a long drag and then relaxed as I threw myself into recollection. As the sweet whisper of Jazz bustled on from the piano in the corner, I swivelled in my spot and faced the room. No one looked to me, but I spoke to them all.\n\n\"Life is like a rooster. It wakes you up at the start of the day with a bang of excitement, but by the time your sun's settin' it's been sleeping for a couple of hours. It's fancy, it's fashionable - it's what we all want. But by the time we're ready to have it, it's too late. The irony, though, is that roosters are meant to be early. And life? Life is always late.\" I finished another drag of my silhouette and turned back to the bar just as the music hit a small crescendo. Another snail entered the tavern, and inched his way over to the bar. I nodded him my greetings.\n\n\"Let me buy you a round, friend,\" he suggested as he reached the bar. The drinks appeared as he at last settled himself into his position.\n\n\"Life going well for you?\" I asked, noting the spring in his crawl.\n\n\"I'm living life as I can,\" the snail said, and I noted upon his back a small scar, reminiscent of stress or cracking. *How odd,* I thought, but made no comment on it.\n\n\"How so?\" I replied, and took a swig of the drink.\n\n\"I've got a job as a street patroller,\" he remarked. I was impressed. The street patrollers are no ordinary snails; they are the highest of the working class. They monitor the grassless lands and pass messages across them, risking their lives in the process. Such an eventful life is only afforded to the most fortunate and driven snails of each generation, and unfortunately, I had been neither. The urge to give another monologue overcame me, but I powered through with the resilience only a snail can know, for my new friend was about to speak again. \"Problem is, now I've got too much money, and no time to use it.\" He paused. \"Life's a real stumper, ain't it.\"\n\nHis forlorn face sagged to the bottom of his hastily emptied glass, and I sympathized with him even as I was jealous and self-loathing. Then, with a slyness to his eyes, he craned his neck and faced me with all his head.\n\n\"Say,\" he began, \"Why don't you fill in for me a little?\"\n\n\"Me?\" I replied, shocked. \"How?\"\n\n\"Oh, it's nothing much. You've just gotta be there, run some messages across. All easy, all simple. So long as someone's there, they won't know it's not me. I can pay you a share of my own riches, and you can buy me some spare time with your service,\" the snail replied.\n\n*****\n\nWell, fleeting friends, you know my misfortune now. So enticed by adventure and riches, by the revolt against monotony and tradition, I broke the rules, and in doing so, I earned myself what I had never deserved and rarely sought.\n\nThe grassless lands are wide expanses, but from one side the other can be seen. It is not their breadth which is the problem, but what else traverses them.\n\nGoodbye, fleeting friends. Learn my lessons before you die. I was slower than I should have been, and slower still than the danger which I saw as it came down upon me.\n\nI look up above me now and time has slowed. The end is here and I see all that is in terms quite clear.\n\nI am to be crushed, but let my soul explode with wisdom first.\n\nI was but an ordinary snail, yet only by seeking glory did I die a meaningless death.\n\nTil we all depart - farewell."
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[WP] You work as a sewage engineer in a fantasy metropolis with huge under-city catacombs.
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"The rat squeaked and scurried along the algae slick ledge until it ended, hopping off onto a glowing white orb, treading the submerged object before making several more jumps onto various pieces of floating debris. It paused atop a large, shiny black square and sniffed the air furiously.\n\n“Tipper! Over here, boy!”\n\nThe rodent resumed its hopscotch, taking the ledge again when it resumed and turning a sharp corner, discovering the man and his barge wafting about near a large pile of severed deer heads. It ran over excitedly, almost falling into the brackish green and brown sludge that dominated the sewers.\n\n“Ah, Tipper. Take a gander at this, yah? Got about two, maybe three dozen of these lovely little beasts, just tossed aside. Probably from one of them stag orgies those floaty Gellers like to throw. Why, just give ol’ Rudy here half a day with his trusty Zacto Blade, and we’ll make a pretty penny selling bone bowls to the ladies and Hallows Eve costumes to their kiddies!”\n\nTipper hopped on the man’s shoulder and purred, nuzzling his grizzled, sloppily shaved cheek. It accepted a handout of morsels, swallowing them whole before jumping on one of the deer heads and with a prodigious speed, began eviscerating it.\n\n“No, no, boy! Even that’s gotta be done with precision, lest the shape warp. There’s a reason you and I are the number one Scrappers in Shadesville – we’re sticklers for quality!”\n\nThe rat bowed its head and whimpered softly, which was met by a gruffly affectionate caress. \n\n“Ain’t no thing, little one,” said Rudy, “hey now, I know you always got some happy morsels to show me, ain’t ya?”\n\nTipper squealed loudly and jolted off in a flash, only pausing at the corner’s ledge to look back and dance on his hind legs. Rudy pressed a red lever on his barge’s end and the multicolored collection of wooden planks and metal bellowed forward, its low end torque growling. “Wait for Rudy, ya scamp!” he yelled, “some of us got half the legs and 100 times the mass!”\n\nThe barge turned the corner sharply, evading the hodgepodge of floating debris with precision. Rudy controlled the surprisingly nimble beast with a small steering wheel connected to an anti-gravity ball that floated just under it. He had retrofitted the ball to disperse its waves along any solid matter in its field, which proved excellent for repelling the seemingly infinite barrage of discarded goods that made their way down.\n\nThe rat led the barge down several avenues, avoiding hazardous objects with ease. When Tipper had first run into Rudy – literally while following a heavy spice scene – the man was knee deep in robotic snakes, muttering to himself as he tried to extract their corroded power packs. Both sewer denizens had jumped back and stared the other down for several seconds before Rudy broke out into a raucous fit of laughter. He offered the rat one of his Soyrio rations and Tipper reciprocated by ripping the heads off several of the hidden active snakes in the bunch. Both had recognized the symbiotic potential of the relationship, and they had been inseparable ever since.\n\nTipper rounded a final corner and stopped abruptly, causing Rudy to brake with a start to avoid hitting the rodent.\n\n“Crickey there, boy! You gotta give ol’ Rudy a bit more leeway. His reflexes ain’t as…oh, my stars!”\n\nThey stood at least three meters across and six high, their neatly wrapped bundles packed tightly with thick ribbon wire. Despite the layers of grime and sludge residue, there was no mistaking the contents. The blue and white pills had become so infamous, so plastered on every Info Report, Holo Ad and Propaganda Plane, that even the Scrappers of the Deep knew their name.\n\n“Sweet Lord of Mercy, those are*Downers*, Tipper! Even one o’ those boys would be enough to send both of us to the gallows, and there must be millions in there! I didn’t even reckon that many existed in the empire, much less Shadesville.” \n\nThe rat grew noticeably perturbed, clacking his jaws and scuttering back and forth. He began clawing at the ribbon, severing several lines of it before Rudy was off his raft and mucking through the sludge after him.\n\n“Tipper, no!” he shouted. “We don’t want any evidence that we even came across this stash. Broken seals and our general whereabouts aren’t much, but the Enforcers can make 2 and 2 into 5 easier than I can add ’em proper!”\n\nTipper scurried to the top of the pile, jumping up and down incessantly. He raised his arms up and made a digging motion toward the surface, then lay prostrate on his back with his limbs splayed.\n\n“Oh, you get that idea right outta your head, mister! It doesn’t matter how rich we’d selling the stuff, they’d string us up like pikers. Wouldn’t even care that you were a harmless rodent, boy, your neck’d be right next to mine.”\n\nTipper hopped down, landing on Rudy’s shoulder and bowing his head apologetically before nuzzling his cheek again. The man stroked his head, making his way back to the barge and setting it gently back toward the deer head. “It’s an ambitious thought, buddy, but we’re doin’ just fine, you know?\n\nThat night Rudy dreamed not of salvaged Sport Drones or discarded Levitation Cushions, but of twin gold towers a thousand meters high that glistened with rubies and sapphires. A series of ornate jade steps led up in a spiral pattern that turned green, blue and purple as the sun’s capricious whims hit them. Dozens of Gyrowhales floated around, each ready to be summoned on command. At the very top of the tower in a room made of polished onyx, Rudy sat atop a throne of puffy white clouds while across from him lay the woman in black, holding a single blue and white pill between her fingers.\n\n-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------\n\nThe Maypole Bazaar was in its usual full Sunday swing, and Rudy was sweating through his Scrapper’s uniform. He carried, in addition to his usual wares, a death sentence.\n",
"There was another blockage in section 13-E of the New Albion metropolitan sewers. That would be why I'm down here 100 feet below the ground, wearing a hard hat on my head and a handkerchief over my nose. I'm the chief sewage engineer for the city, and it's my job to take care of these things, mainly because there's nobody else who has the experience to do it. Besides, having sewage back up into the commercial district is never good for business and New Albion prides itself on maintaining certain standards.\n\nI had two assistants with me Joe and Adam. It took us 15 minutes just to walk to this section from the closest access point. It's dark and the sewer smelled heavy and foul, so nothing unusual there. The section was made up of a main tunnel that was 18 ft tall with a vaulted ceiling. We had carbide lamps on our hats and we could make out that the center of the tunnel was filled with a river of sewage several feet deep. On either side of the smelly river, there was a sidewalk about two feet wide, which were were standing on. Along the main section, there were also smaller side tunnels with sewer water periodically spilling into the main river. Each smaller tunnel was about shoulder high and just large enough to fit one man.\n\n\"We're here, boys\" I said to my two assistants. \"Let's get to work!\" We didn't know exactly where the blockage was, but I knew it was one of the smaller tunnel leading to the sewage river. The problem was finding out which one, and there were about a dozen of them in this section. It was a dirty task of sticking half you body into the tunnel and prodding around. My assistants each carried a pole with a hook on the end that we brought along just for this purpose.\n\nJoe and I started checking one side of the main section, and Adam was checking the other. He was able to cross the sewage river by walking over a small bridge at one end of the section. After we checked about 4 or five small tunnels, I heard Adam say \"Boss, come here quickly!\"\n\nJoe and I turned and saw Adam pointing to a small tunnel. I guessed correctly that he found the blockage, but I didn't know why he seemed so frantic. Adam began quickly moving towards the small bridge. He was about to cross over when he saw Joe and I approach. He backed away to let us cross and he was keeping an eye on the small sewer tunnel the whole time.\n\n\"What did you see, Adam?\" I asked.\n\n\"Something large is moving in there!\" He said. It's not uncommon to find living things in the sewers, especially for a city as large as New Albion. Rats and small jellies were common. However, for something to plug up a side tunnel, it must at least be the size of a man. I prayed it wasn't a large jelly, because that would take all day to pull it out.\n\nI walked up to the side tunnel and stuck my head in. The carbide lamp mounted on my hardhat show a bunch of garbage - offal, bones, bits of wood, etc. It was blocking the way and in the center of it, there was indeed something moving. I stuck my hook into the pile of garbage to pull some of it loose. When I did this, I saw a squirming mass emerge from the garbage and several large tentacles slither out. I backed away as several octopus tentacles emerged from the side tunnel and started to grip the edge, trying to pull itself out. \"Bog octopus!\" I yelled.\n\nMy two assistants immediately got between me and the octopus. It was trying to pull its elastic body out of the tunnel and we used this time to cross the bridge to the other side of the sewage river. With a wet \"plop!\" The body of the bog octopus freed itself from the side tunnel and fell onto the sidewalk. It was a lot larger than I expected, easily the size of a cow. I had only heard of a bog octopus before but never seen one up close. From time to time, they swim up the sewer pipes and wreak havoc on whatever city they happen to pop out in.\n\nThe three of us began retreating to the street access point. Thank god bog octopus are slow! Despite this, we still ran as fast as we could. As we stood at the bottom of the manhole, we heard no signs of the octopus.\n\n\"What do we do now?\" Joe asked.\n\n\"We tell the mayor, and he hires a couple of adventurers, maybe battle-wizards to take care of it.\" I said. \"This is way out of our league. They should just be happy we unclogged the tunnel.\""
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[WP] " I think I understand now. At first, I thought you were just another human hero that had been sent to slay me, but now I know the truth. You aren't human, are you? No- You just look like one. "
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"He was a silver knight. The armor he wore shone like a mirror. The sword he bore was clad in silver. The hair that formed the plume of his helm was a ashen, sooted grey. \n\nHe wandered her domain like a ghost, slaying the beasts that attacked him and passing those who didn't. \n\nShe wondered what he was doing so far from home. The tabard he wore suggested an allegiance to the Human King Aldigne with its draconic insignia of red, but the cloth was faded and torn and received even less attention than the rest of his ragged gear. \n\nHe was slowly making his way through her castle city. Slowly, he traversed forgotten halls and dusty chambers, making his way through the darkness where Man had once dwelled. \n\nHe was coming for her. \n\nHe must have been. How long had it been since the last adventurer came, some fool looking for glory in the murder of the Shunned and the Unwanted? How long since that terrible blade she now bore had sliced its way through the nest of her children and destroyed each defenceless, sessile egg?\n\nShe hid from him, retreating to the deepest chambers, to the grave of the once proud kings in the catacombs of the city. She rounded up her minions, those with enough wits to obey her commands and sent them burrowing into the earth. \n\nThe silver knight wandered empty hallways and slept in the shadows of broken pillars. \n\nShe was so busy in her preoccupation with evading the knight that she nearly missed the sound of thundering hooves. But the strands of her web reached far into the castle and the forests beyond. She could feel them coming- \n\nAn army. An army was coming to slay her. \n\nShe was not too worried. Her forces could hold up against siege. In the past so many had been easily caught by her minions and snared in the forest of webs. \n\nThen she saw the first flicker of fire. \n\nA great smoke filled the land as they set fire to her forest. They brought fire, terrible fire in barrels and in long, bulky tubes. Fire, blackening her castle- Fire, killing her subjects. \n\nFire, illuminating the darkness of the catacombs, charging straight towards her most sacred domain. She hid within the Nest, the old Nest where they had slain her young. She hid, crying bitter tears as they burnt everything with cruel fire. \n\nShe saw, a flicker in the dark, no more than a brief reflection. One attacker disappeared into the blackness, then another, then another- \n\nThe silver knight strode forth, his sword drawn, flickering with bewitching silver light. Silver light that cast a hypnotic spell on the army that had come for her, lulling each man into a helpless torpor. When he had gutted each of them, he turned and stood before her. Dark blood dripped from his marred blade, staining the marbled floors.\n\nHe raised his helmet at last. She recognized those features- familiar features, pale and washed out with the long empty nights and the knowledge of things that crawled and squirmed. \n\n\"Ah...\" she purred, descending towards him, \"My son.\" \n\n"
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[WP] A man living in the Himalayas. He lives there alone in constant fear of is uncanny ability to turn anything that he thinks about into a steak pie.
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"God. Monster. Murderer. \n\nThose words hung heavy in his mind as he stared intently at the bare stone wall of his hovel. The cold black stone stared back, unforgiving. Keep your mind blank, he told himself. Don’t let anything in. \n\nGod. Monster. Murderer.\n\nThe snow fell thickly against the ramshackle shelter he had constructed out of salvaged metal and cardboard. Damp spots spread through the torn and rusted roof, withering the supports away. Several small snowflakes wormed their way through the jagged holes in the walls, coating his shivering shoulders in cold sleet. Keep your mind blank, he told himself. Don’t let anything in.\n\nGod. Monster. Murderer.\n\nThe man finally allowed himself a reprieve from staring at the black wall and began to rummage among one of the small piles of trinkets that littered his wet grass floor. The wind howled outside and the flimsy roof shook, but he paid them no mind. \n\nGod. Monster. Murderer.\n\n“Yes,” he whispered. His thin smile brought a small gleam to the dreary shack on the mountainside. \n\nHe held a dirty photograph in his hands. It was heavy with the dampness of the snow and the sides were nearly in tatters. But the way he held it, it might as well have been made of gold. \n\nGod. Monster. Murderer.\n\nA woman smiled up at him from the soggy material. Her eyes were a fierce green and long blond hair framed her face as it lit up into a smile. On her lap was a little girl, no more than six years old. Her dirty blond hair was tied into a long braid and her mouth was stretched wide. She was laughing. \n\nGod. Monster. Murderer.\n\nIt had been happier back then. Back before the incident that broke his life apart. Sadistic demons below or apathetic angels above had cursed him something unholy. His own Midas Touch. \n\nGod. Monster. Murderer.\n\nHe bit his lip as the tears began to fall again, just as they did everyday when he allowed himself to look at the picture. As his full attention focused onto the small photograph, the edges began to smolder and the hair along his arms stood on end. In seconds, the paper had crumbled into a warm steak pie. \n\nGod. Monster. Murderer.\n\nHe screamed in anger as the brittle crust fell from his hands and the thick, raw meat slipped between his fingers. The bloody contents spread across the floor, staining the coarse ground with red meat and sickly sweet dough. The smell of it almost made him vomit. He had smelled it too many times.\n\nGod. Monster. Murderer.\n\nFor the last five years, whenever he gave his full attention to something, it crumbled before him into a mess of half-cooked dough and festering meat. His wife had barely had time to scream before her face slid apart into two slabs of maggoty steak. \n\n“Michael!” she screamed as her body collapsed upon itself. “What’s happening?”\n\n“No! Katy!” he thrust his head into his hands and tried to beat out the thoughts, but it was too late. Katy was spread out before him, a steak pie crawling with maggots bleeding through the living room’s white carpet. \n\n“Mommy? Daddy?” the sound of his daughter froze his blood in his veins. \n\n“Keep your mind blank,” he told himself. “Don’t let anything in.”\n\nBut it was too late. As he pulled his head from between his hands, he saw the horror before him. He had taken most of his little girl out of his mind, but it hadn’t been enough. Her head and shoulders were intact and her eyes stared glassy at the ceiling. Everything below her shoulders flowed out in a red river of steak and crust, mixing with the carnage from his wife’s body. Her little blue dress lay in ruins, stained red with blood. \n\nGod. Monster. Murderer.\n\nEverything had unraveled quickly after that. The neighbors called the police. The police called the military. The military called the government to weaponize his powers. All of their flesh and bone crumbled into lifeless pastry before him. The thick sauce ran over his hands like blood and the flies swarmed around the slaughter he left behind him. \n\nTo be around others was death. And so, he fled to the furthest reaches of the globe, hiding himself away in the frozen wastes of the Himalayas. The entire time he kept his mind blank. Or at least he tried. \n\nGod. Monster. Murderer.\n\nHe had been called a god by the crazed warmongers of his country, ready to turn his strength against America’s enemies. He had been called a monster by his closest friends even as their skin fell apart into slop. He had never been called a murder. Except by the look in Katy’s eyes before the life went out of them, and by himself every day since.\n\nGod. Monster. Murderer.\n\nBut now, the last tie to his past was gone, collapsed into the same sticky red ichor that had consumed his life. With the photograph gone, there was nothing left. No sweet memories he could bring to mind without turning the mountainside into decaying flesh. \n\nHe turned his mind to himself. He could feel his skin beginning to warp as the sickly scent of raw meat and sweet pastries filled the collapsing hut. The ceiling dissolved into flesh and rained down on his pale body. The black stone wall melted into a grotesque flow of raw dough. The piles of trinkets around him were now globs of quivering muscle and sinew.\n\n“I’m sorry Katy,” he said. “I’m sorry Sunshine.” \n\nGod. Monster. Murderer.\n\nGod. Monster. Murderer.\n\nGod. Monster. Murderer.\n\nMichael.\n\nAnd with his mind turned in on itself, his body collapsed. The foul odor of maggot-infested steak wove into the cold air of the mountainside and a thick river of red etched itself through the pale, unforgiving snow. \n\nMichael. Michael. Michael. \n"
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[WP] Each person can only curse/swear once in their entire lifetime, but when they do, something happens.
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"I stood, my hands in my black dress pants, my tuxedo clean and free of wrinkles, watching, as they lowered the casket into the gaping hole in the floor. I watched them lower it a little at a time. Unblinking. I never took the eyes off the too-small casket, as they laid it to rest next to the bigger one. \n\nThere were no words to say here. I broke my gaze for a few seconds to look around. My friends and family, similarly dressed in funeral clothes, were staring as the hole was filled with clumps of dirt and grass.\n\nThe sun was overhead, shining brightly down on this small concession. I pursed my lips and thought bitterly, *It's too bright today.* It was going to be sunny all day, as I'd read from the weather report. Unfitting for today.\n\nI turned my gaze back to the hole in the ground, now filled entirely with dirt. As the last of it was packed in, people started dissipating. Trickling away, one or two at a time, a muffled sob here, a wail of pain there. I glanced up momentarily when I felt a hand on my shoulder, firmly squeezing it. I saw my father, his face lined with wrinkles. His eyes were wet, I noted. Then, he walked away, leaving me to stay at this grave.\n\nEventually, everyone else left, leaving me to my own devices. I sighed, and stepped in front of the freshly-filled hole. I stared at those two tombstones, reading them over and over again.\n\n*LYDIA MEAGHER*\n\n*MARCH 3, 1987 - FEBRUARY 4, 2017*\n\n\n*HALLE MEAGHER*\n\n*APRIL 19, 2011 - FEBRUARY 4, 2017*\n\nI took my hands out of my pockets as slowly, I came to my knees, sitting on my heels. I wiped sweat off my forehead and looked up at that sun, beating down on me. It seemed to be taunting me. *It's such a bright, happy day!* it seemed to say. *Too bad you can't enjoy it.*\n\nSlowly, my eyes turned to the tomb stones again. They were encircled by an array of colorful flowers, provided by various members of my--no, our, family.\n\nI sat there for a long time, my legs slowly going numb below me. I shifted to a position where I was sitting down on my backside, my legs crossed in front of me. And I just sat there some more, thinking of nothing, gazing into space.\n\nAll at once, it hit me. A pang of pain, agony, a spike of sadness and anger threw itself into my heart. It spread throughout my body, traveling along my veins and nerves, until the extent of what had happened finally hit me.\n\nMy wife and child were dead. They were dead, killed because of me. Because of my own, damned, reckless DRIVING!\n\nI slammed my fists on the grass in front of me as I leaned forward and stayed there, staring at the grass. I barely felt the tears as they left my eyes and dropped, slowly, into the green below.\n\nAnd all at once, I started crying. My body shook as it was racked with tears and sobs of pain. I hit the grass over and over again until my knuckles were bruised, the tears never stopping, the words always going through my head, \"It's my fault. It's my fault. It's my fault.\"\n\nI sat back on my haunches, momentarily out of breath, and I stared at the tombstones. And all at once, I screamed into the open air above me, in the dead quiet of the cemetery, \"GOD DAMN IT.\" I held the last word for a few seconds, then stopped. I heard it echoing throughout the cemetery, bouncing off the grave stones.\n\nI looked down at the floor again, the tears flowing like rapids. Then, I felt a presence behind me.\n\n\nI sat back up, and turned my body to see who the hell wanted to bother me. Then, my eyes widened, and I involuntarily gasped.\n\nThere she was. Lydia. Lydia, with her dirty-blonde hair and striking green eyes. Her skin was pale now, not tanned from the sun as before, and she seemed to glow, her perfect figure radiating a light from behind her.\n\nThen, I looked, and I saw something else. Halle. My daughter. My heart skipped a beat when I saw, little Halle, with my black hair but her mother's green eyes. Short, happy, wearing a little red jacket over the top of her pink dress that she loved. She seemed to glow as well.\n\nThey both had smiles on their faces. I turned fully around now, facing my body toward them. They stepped toward me, Halle hugging me from the front, Lydia planting a kiss on my cheek, holding my shoulder. They felt so solid, but at the same time, something was off, not quite right about them. \n\nLydia bent down, next to my ear, and whispered, so quietly in the way she always spoke. I could still hear her clearly, and the sound of her voice sent a pang of hurt into my chest.\n\n\"We forgive you.\"\n\nAnd I broke down there, sitting down. As they faded away, I sobbed at the cemetery. The tears were streaming again, and I held my head in my hands as the tears flowed and my chest irregularly pumped out as I took in shallow breaths, mourning their deaths. The pain was still there, only slightly lessened by her words, and the tears came harder than ever, nonstop, as if it were a waterfall. I don't know how long I sat there, weeping.\n\n--\nIf y'all are inclined to leave any CC, please go ahead and do so. God knows I could use it."
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[WP] You've always been "that guy." One day, a new "that guy" shows up. This town isn't big enough for the both of you.
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"Everyone has a place in life. Mine was Jacob Brown, just an average guy. In the little Alaskan town of Cold Water, John Doe was \"that guy\" everyone in town knew him but no one ever got too close. He lived alone on a dirt road that stretched further than anyone wanted to go down. He frequented a bar in Anchorage called the Golden Moose and he would always order two shots of Jameson and leave without ever saying a word. He owned his own business selling bottled water from the Cold Water Creek, but he only sold to restaurants so not many people really talked to him. I never even paid attention to this man's existence until the event happened.\n\nSam Smith was (according to the news papers) a normal man who was born and raised in Texas. Not much else was known about him other than he worked at a metal refinery. It also isn't known why he would pack up and move to Anchorage, especially during one of the most bitter winters in Alaskan history.\n\nI was in the bar when I saw Sam Smith for the first time. He immediately gave me this bone chilling feeling that he was \"that guy\". He was more talkative than John Doe, already more liked by my guess. It was undeniably true though, that feeling you get when you are near a \"that guy\". Sam Smith ordered two shots of Glenlivet and left. I should have known right then and there something was a miss.\n\nI went back to the Golden Moose the next day to meet a few work friends for some drinks when I noticed John Doe with 2 shots of Jameson, already drank, but he was still sitting. I thought it was strange because he was always in and out but I paid no attention. That's when Sam Smith walked through the door. He sat down right beside John Doe and the tension in the air grew fierce. Sam Smith ordered 2 Glenlivet shots. Not a word was spoken.\n\nSuddenly a man who had talked to Sam Smith the previous day yelled out, just as Sam was finishing his 2nd shot \n\n\"Hey! Aren't you that guy?\"\n\nViolence on a scale I will never see again erupted. Both men immediately rose to their feet and landed blow after blow that would have put entire hockey leagues to shame. Blood slung everywhere but neither man budged an inch. \n\nBar patrons moved back at first, then crowded around to see what would go down in history for decades to come.\n\nJohn Doe's punches became less controlled and much heavier handed, his face bloodied beyond recognition.\n\nSam Smith's punches became sloppy as well, but showed no sign of stopping. His face was already disfigured enough that any normal man would have stopped.\n\nI saw the bartender call the police from his cell phone but I knew it would do no good.\n\nAround the 40th punch is when they say the men died. It didn't stop them though, as if possessed by the Devil and God both men continued to execute hits with such ferocity that it started to get supernatural. Some people started to try to break the men up, but it was as if they were in another dimension and became untouchable. Some people ran out of the bar. Me? I stayed. I had to see this fight. This wasn't some drunken bar brawl, this was that guy vs that guy and something about it shook me down to my very core.\n\nSam Smith's punches at this point started to glow with the heat of Texan metal, while John Doe's had an aura around them that glowed with the ice of Cold Water Creek.\n\nParts of the bar started to chip away around the devastation, still both men never moved an inch. The local police finally showed up and were absolutely bewildered at this event. The two men had sunk at least a foot down in to the floor where the pure determination to be \"that guy\" had wore away everything in a sphere around them. One of the police men tried to reach out and his arm disintegrated upon contact with the air around the fight. The other police man discharged his gun 6 times, each bullet stopped midair and slowly melted and swirled away and around the two men. Screams of panic from everyone came at this point and everyone ran but me. I was seeing this through until the end.\n\nThe punches slowed from both men but the force behind them became otherworldly. Time and space bent around them as if a black hole had opened up in the bar. \n\nSuddenly both men reared back for one final punch that would determine the fight. With the force of the moon crashing to earth both of them landed a perfect punch on the jaw of the other. Time stood still and so did they. I noticed the bar was no longer standing, everything with in a mile had been completely destroyed. I turn back to the men and they were now stone. Slowly they crumbled away in to the wind and with that the fight was over. \n\n--\n\n\"You're bullshitting Jacob Brown!\"\n\n\"I am not!\" I told my friend who refused to believe me\n\n\"You're always messing around with these stories, you've always got to be \"that guy\"\"\n\n--\n\nThat's when my life came in to focus like a needle going through a loop. I was that guy."
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[WP] You have [ability x]. It is based on the severity of [circumstance y]. One day, you find that [extreme limit of x] is occurring.
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"It was a fairly pleasant day in [TOWN], [STATE]. Nothing much tended to happen there, when compared to the bustling metropolis of [CITY], a mere [DISTANCE] miles to the [DIRECTION]. As per usual, [PROTAGONIST] woke up, went downstairs and made coffee. As he was about to take the first sip, he stopped. Something wasn't right. He glanced instinctively at his [CONDUIT FOR POWER], and dropped his coffee. It smashed instinctively to the floor, but though he flinched, he never took his eyes away.\n\n\"This can't be,\" he whispered to nobody in particular. \"[PARTNER]!\" he called, hoping she might be able to figure out what was going on.\n\n\"What's wrong?\" she said as she tore down the stairs. \"Is it your--\" she turned the corner and saw the [COLOUR] glow - it had never been that bright before. The last time it had been anywhere near that bright was over five years ago, when [DANGEROUS EVENT IN WHICH PROTAGONIST AND PARTNER NEARLY DIED]. They had been lucky to escape with their lives. If the bright [COLOUR] was anything to go by, the chances were they weren't going to do so again. \n\nThe car was started and within minutes, they were hurtling down the I-[MOTORWAY] going three point reckless times the speed limit. Behind them, [CITY] lay, ignorant of what was to come.\n\nThey had barely made it as far as [NEIGHBOURING STATE] before [CATASTROPHIC EVENT THAT CAUSES WIDESPREAD DEATH]."
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[WP] You are the leader of a wealthy and prosperous nation. You are beloved by all and respected around the world. There's just one problem: the real leader was assassinated months ago, and you're an imposter.
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"I hate press conferences. No, I'm not shy even in front of all the cameras and reporters. It was hard enough leading a country to begin with, but doing it as someone else was another thing. I had to maintain just enough of his personality to convince everyone I was still him, yet still manage the country the right way. This would be easy if things weren't a complete mess before I took over.\n\n\n\nLet's go back a bit. The guy I took over from was pretty bad at running the country. He had attempts on his life regularly by pissed off citizens and other world leaders. No one liked him or his way of doing things. It got to the point where he decided to get a body double. This is where I came in. I was the right height and looked similar enough that some minor facial and vocal chord surgery was all it took to make it believable that I was him. \n\n\n\nDespite me being there to go out in front of the public in his place he would still do it himself most of the time, too much pride. Someone in the crowd shot him. The secret service managed to get him out of there, but he still died coughing up his own blood. He couldn't even manage to speak and tell them that he was the real one. \n\n\n\nEveryone who knew he had a body double assumed he was the double. I ended up taking his place and slowly changing things. I'm not doing the best job ever, having had no experience, but the turn around from how bad he ran things caused everyone to love me. World leaders and my citizens alike both cheered praises for me. Even those who hated the man I am before I was him. Everyone just blamed the leader that came before him for what a rough start he had. No one realized he had a rough start because he was genuinely shitty and he was doing good now because it was someone else.\n\n\n\nStill, having to be him enough that no one began to think I was the double meant I had to be a bit dumb and a major asshole sometimes, so press conferences weren't fun. But they were necessary. I take a deep breath and I walk up to the podium. As I walk the crowd cheers, where as just a few months ago at least half of them would've booed. I take both pride in their cheers because I know they are really for me, and sorrow as I know that all I have done would be accredited to him. This man who had run the country into the ground the whole time he ran it would be hailed as the greatest leader in history. In the history books it would say Donald Trump made America great again."
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[WP] It's the zombie apocalypse, and you are scavenging inside an abandoned house. You find a video camera, and there's a tape inside. What is on the tape? What do you do now?
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" I struggled through the broken wooden fence as quickly as I could. I tried not to lose focus from the blood loss from my leg as I clambered up what remained of the front porch stairs all the way to the dilapidated front door. I snapped my head around in terror, searching for any signs of them, listening for their inhuman moans of insatiable hunger. The world was quiet except for my own erratic heartbeat. Nothing was alive out here, nor had been for a long time. The air stank of death and ruin.\n\n I turned back to the door, my sweaty, blood-drenched hands pathetically trying grip the dirt-caked handle. In my desperation, I slammed myself against the frame and it came loose, the lock having been eaten away by years of rust and neglect. Whispering a thank you to whoever was listening, I hobbled into the darkness of a home of a family long dead and gone. \n\n I stumbled around like a drunkard on the hardwood floor, clutching my mutilated limb with one hand and feeling my way with the other. The last confrontation with those undead motherfuckers had left me with a chunk missing from my right leg where one of them had bitten clean through it. Needless to say, it hurt like a stinking bitch. I knew if I couldn’t staunch it, I’d either die from the blood loss or the sickness would take me too. With every creak of the dying floorboards, my mind kept racing back to that one burning thought: I needed medical supplies, fast. Where did people use to keep that stuff? The kitchen? Bedrooms? It was getting harder and harder to focus. My vision was blurring and the pain did not help. Suddenly my feeling hand grabbed at air and I lost my balance. I fell through what must have been a doorway and landed with an excruciating thud. I closed my eyes, gritted my teeth and rasped to myself. “The bathroom, you fucking moron.”\n\n I couldn’t bring myself to stand up. The pain and exhaustion was too much. I dragged myself out of the room I had fallen into and looked for signs of a bathroom. There, at the end of the hallway. Tiles, or what was left of them at least. That had to be it. I elbow-crawled for what seemed like an eternity, leaving a dark red stain in my wake. I reached the tiled floor and looked around in a crazed frenzy to confirm my suspicions. I saw the broken porcelain pieces of what must have once been a sink and over in the far corner was something that looked like a toilet, now fallen into ruin after years of disuse. \n\n Looking up above where the sink used to be, I saw something that made me choke back a sob of relief. A medicine cabinet, hanging by its last nail, with the door slightly ajar. With newfound hope and strength from the adrenaline rush, I forced myself up. Propping my bad leg on what must have been the bathtub, I could barely contain myself. I was shivering like a squirrel. It might have been the anticipation, but I was more inclined to believe it was the disease fucking with my nervous system. This cabinet possibly contained the last thing on this godforsaken Earth that could save my life. I held my breath and gingerly opened the dented door.\n\n Nothing. It was empty. Panic ensuing, I groped around inside it, clinging to that last bit of hope that I might find something, anything, on its dusty shelves. \n\n Nothing. All was still and silent. There was a dull ringing in my ears and I felt my insides drop. It’s a sickening feeling, that feeling you get when you know that you are powerless to do anything but accept your fate. I break down in tears and loud, animal cries as my tired, broken body slid down into a sorry heap. I convulsed and let out screams of futility. All these years. Running. Hiding. Fighting. Surviving. The sacrifices I had made, the things I had done. All for nothing. This was it. This was the end. \n\n My screams turned into maniacal laughter as my mind started to lose its grip on reality. I thrashed around on that bathroom floor, cackling like a madman. Flailing, I threw myself out of the bathroom and stood up on my good leg. I started limping back down the hallway, tears streaming down my face. My foot hit something hard and I tripped, falling face-first into what must have been my own trail of blood. My laughs died back down into quiet sobs as I lay there on the floor coming to terms with what was about to happen. I opened the one eye I could see out of with my head turned to a side. I looked down towards my feet to see what I had tripped on. \n\n It was smooth and metallic. Small, no bigger than my hand. Moonlight shining in through gaps in the front door reflected off of its side and I was able to read four embossed letters: SONY. My incoherent mind urged me to pick it up, and so I did. As I ran my fingers over the object I slowly started realizing that I knew what this was. It was an old Handy-cam video camera. My father used to have one just like this. God, this must be decades old. The flip-open screen hung loosely from its hinges and I could see it slowly coming to life. I must have hit the power button with my foot when I tripped over it. \n\n I was intrigued by the fact that it still worked after so long, and suddenly the camera was all I could focus on. I could use this to leave behind a message for whoever would find it next. I could leave behind my story, what I had been through, and reach out to those who cared for me and those I once cared for. Tears sprung back into my eyes yet again as these thoughts went through my head, and I turned the camera to face me and hit record.\n\n It responded with an angry beep. I hit the button again, same response. Frustrated, I turned it back around and looked at the screen. \n\n MEMORY FULL. PLEASE DELETE EXISTING FILES TO FREE UP SPACE. \n\n “Fucking hell.” I muttered under my breath. I clumsily navigated the menus, my barely responsive fingers sliding awkwardly over the touchscreen display. Finally, I reached the memory card folder that contained the video files. There were a ton of them, all of them videos of the family that once lived here I assumed. I hit the Delete All button. A message popped asking me if I was sure I wanted to delete all 800 something files. Just as I was about to press Confirm, something caught my eye. \n\n The splash image of one of the videos was a picture of a little girl. Squinting, I realized that that specific video was of her birthday party. She had a little pink dress on and was holding a bunch of balloons of so many different colors. It was the most colorful thing I had seen in so long. I wanted to see more of it. I hit Cancel, and opened up the video. \n\n It started out with the girl’s mother staring into the lens, big smile on her face. “Alright Lily, you won’t see this for years to come, but welcome to your first birthday party!” Her voice was tinny coming out of the tiny speakers of the video camera. She had bright blue eyes and her blonde hair fell in curls around her face. She spoke in excited whispers. “Okay, let’s do this!” She turned the camera away from her. The view panned over to a group of people gathered in a beautiful living room. They were all seated around the little girl, who clearly had no idea what was going on but was enjoying every minute of it. She was the spitting image of her mother. \n\n Sunlight streamed into the room. Sunlight. I couldn’t remember the last time I had seen the sun. Had it always been this beautiful? I don’t know. “Bring that thing over here Jodie!” A man’s voice this time. Presumably the girl’s father. The camera moved over towards him. He was smiling too, a comforting smile. He had thick head of brown hair and a pleasant, chiseled face. “Everyone ready? One, two, three, go!”\n\n The crowd of people began singing Happy Birthday to the child. Some were clapping, some were singing more enthusiastically than others. It was off-key and out of time. But it was the most enchanting thing I had seen in forever. I couldn’t take my eyes off it. The colors! The music! The laughter! Lily was clapping her tiny hands and bouncing up and down in excitement, clearly enjoying the attention everyone was giving her. \n\n In that moment I realized I couldn’t do it. These were the memories of the family that built a life here and lived happily before everything went to shit. I started recognizing the faces in the pictures on the walls as the same people in the video. I couldn’t erase their last moments and replace them with the dying pleas of a stranger. I put the camera down in front of me and set it to auto-play. It cycled through recordings of every great moment in that family’s life: Lily learning to ride a bike, Bryan, her father, coming home after getting a promotion at work, Jodie’s parents celebrating their 60th anniversary. There were so many moments, and all of them full of happiness. I found myself smiling for the first time in years.\n\n I heard a guttural growl. It was followed by a sickly moan. The stench of rotting flesh began to fill the air. They finally found me. My leg had lost all feeling and the rest of my body was too worn out to move. I didn’t even flinch as one of them fell through the open front door, it's lifeless eyes fixated on me. One by one, they filled the house. Following their insatiable hunger, they lumbered towards me and I made no effort to resist them. I could barely feel them rip the flesh from my bones.\n\nWith a smile still on my face, I kept my eyes on the screen until the very end.\n\n\n\n\n"
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I was told I should post this here
Enjoy!
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[WP]What if the lottery is an institution to catch time travelers?
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"This might be the worst thing I've ever written. Here goes:\n\n___\n\nI hear Suze running into the living room as everything fades back in. \n\n“Oh my God, Paul are you okay?” she says.\n\n“Yeah yeah, fine,” I say, sitting up against the couch.\n\n“Here,” she shoves a glass of water down my throat, “Have some water.”\n\n“No I don’t need any-”\n\n“Please Paul, it’ll make you feel better,”\n\nI choke down the water and through the bottom of the empty glass I catch a glimpse of the paper in my hand. Today’s lottery ticket. I look up at the TV.\n\n“How did this happen?” Suze asks.\n\nI look down at my ticket again.\n\n8 10 22 29 33 45.\n\nI look up at the TV screen.\n\n8 10 22 29 33 45.\n\nEverything goes black again and I feel Suze’s arms catch me before my head can hit anything around me.\n\nSuze and I dress up nicely and walk down to the local newsagency where I had bought the lottery ticket from. I hand over the ticket and the cashier checks it in the computer. His eyes goes wide and he checks the ticket again.\n\n“Sir, I think you’ve won $22 million,” he says.\n\n“Yep, I sure have,” I say with what I can only imagine was the biggest grin I’d ever struck in my entire life. Suze does the same and kisses me on the cheek. The cashier checks the ticket over and over again.\n\n“Well, I think it’s pretty safe to say you got the right numbers there,”\n\nHe hands it back to me with a slight apprehension. Then before I can react, he pulls a gun from under the counter and shoots me and Suze in the head. \n\nEverything goes black again.\n\nI think I’ve won $22 million.\n\nI haven’t really won it, more like stolen it. But I haven’t really stolen it, more like won it. Yeah, I’ve won $22 million.\n\nGetting on my knees, I rip the lottery ticket out of his hands.\n\nIs this wrong to do? Probably.\n\nOh, shit. The lottery people have been called already, they’re coming down here any second. I shove the ticket into my pocket without the care I should be giving it and grab the body of the guy who actually won this money. Fuck, I never thought a dead body would be this heavy. I haul him over to the back door and kick it open, and like the worst shot put thrower ever I chuck him into the storeroom.\n\nNot even close. His head smacks against the back wall and his legs poke out of the door. He’s not hidden at all.\n\nI hear a car door shut out the front and know I have to speed up. I grab his legs and slide him over to the counter. His body bends in a way a living man never could as it shapes itself into the small space. I run over to the dead lady and do the same with her.\n\nWith the ring of a bell the front door opens and a man and lady walk in, both holding a small notepad.\n\n“Good afternoon, Sir,” the lady says, “Would you mind if we asked you a few questions?”\n\nOh fuck. Someone reported the gunshots, they’re going to find the guys under the counter, and I won’t get my $22 million. Great.\n\n“Sure,” I say.\n\n“We understand someone has won the lottery in here?” the man says to me.\n\n“Yep, that would be me,”\n\nThey both exchange a look.\n\n“It’s you?” she says.\n\n“Yes. I won. Fair and square.”\n\nCould I sound any more suspicious?\n\n“Well,” she says with a chuckle, “Congratulations, Sir. Can I ask what the numbers were that you played?”\n\nI have literally no clue.\n\n“Um,”\n\n“Surely you would know your winning lottery numbers off the top of your head, right?”\n\n“Yeah, it’s just, you know, all the shock getting to me right now is clouding my mind and I can’t quite remember.”\n\nGood save.\n\n“Ah, I see.”\n\nThey both note something down.\n\n“Were these numbers ones that you always play, or was this the first time you played them?” he asks.\n\nBoy, they’re really focusing on the lottery and not the potential murders.\n\n“Um, it was just a one off thing, you know. I got lucky I suppose.”\n\nThey both nod and write something else down. The dead guy’s hand slips out and hits my leg. I quietly kick it back under.\n\n“And what is your birthdate, Sir?”\n\n“Why is that relevant?”\n\n“Do you not know your birthdate?”\n\n“No of course I know my birthdate-”\n\n“Then what is it?”\n\n“Fifth of July, 1975.”\n\nThey write something down.\n\n“And what year is it this year, Sir?”\n\nWhy the fuck are they asking me that?\n\n“2017?” I say.\n\n“You’re not sure?”\n\n“2017.”\n\nThey write something down.\n\n“Alright, I think that’s all we need, thank you Sir.” he says.\n\n“And congratulations.” she adds.\n\n“Th-thanks.”\n\nThey both walk out of the door. I breathe a sigh of relief.\n\nA moment later she pops her head in the door.\n\n“Oh, one more thing that I accidentally left in the car,” she says.\n\nShe walks in carrying a massive check for $22 million and hands it to me.\n\n“See you then!” she walks out.\n\n“Fucking hell Barry, I am this close to giving this up,” she says to him as they walk back to the car.\n\n“I know, but I promise we’ll catch someone some day.” he says.\n\n“When, Barry? When? When will we catch someone? Tomorrow? Next week? The next fucking century?”\n\n“I don’t know, you know I don’t know. Just think how amazing it will be when we finally do catch someone. It will change the world.”\n\n“I’m starting to think they don’t even exist. This was all a waste of time. Starting the lottery was such a waste of our energy, and we’ve only lost money too. We just threw away $22 million then. We’re in debt, you know.”\n\n“I know we are. But when we catch someone, all of our problems will be solved. We can stop the lottery once we catch someone, because we could have all the money we wanted.”\n\n“Whatever. Let’s just go home.” she says and sits in the passenger seat. Barry sits in front of the steering wheel and starts the car. He turns to her.\n\n“I am promising you Carrie, time travellers are out there. It’s just a matter of time before we catch one.”\n",
"\"We've got another one for you, John. He's a bit spooked, so go easy on him.\" \n\nGo easy on him? Yeah, right. John chuckles a little as he stands up to stretch, and Irving joins in. \n\nIt's a little-known secret that massive conspiracies generally employ the most sadistic, cynical people they can find. Who's going to believe you when you say that the American government is actually run by rattlesnakes in suits? \n\nWell, if you were trustworthy, maybe a few people. If you're the same guy that was just saying 'Man, the government is so obviously corrupt,' and spending half an hour talking about fraud and the NSA's spying activities? Not so many.\n\nThe government isn't run by rattlesnakes, by the way. They just handle the taxes.\n\nThey take the time to chat a little bit while walking down the hallway. For whatever reason, the engineers who designed their building really loved hallways that stretched on into oblivion, and had put them anywhere they could. As a result, 'break time' generally meant 'take a walk to the breakroom and realize you've already run out of time'. \n\nNot that anyone complained. It was hard to complain to rattlesnakes. They're not very friendly.\n\nThe room is small, dark, and smells of fear. At least, that's what John would tell you, if he were to recount the experience. In reality, the engineers were intelligent enough to create proper ventilation systems and, as such, the room doesn't really smell of anything at all. \n\nJohn lights a cigarette. He's sitting across from the prisoner, a fit, young man wearing a suit. A nicer suit than John's, in fact. John makes a mental note to look into civil forfeiture again. Does it cover clothing?\n\n\"You people still smoke? Gross.\"\n\nMaybe it doesn't quite matter whether or not it covers clothing.\n\n\"Look,\" John says, shuffling some papers in front of him. They're blank, but the prisoner doesn't need to know that. \"We know what you did.\"\n\n\"Yeah, I told you.\" The man groans. \"Like, I'm a time traveler. Great. What're you going to do about it?\"\n\nA smile creeps over John's face. \"That's a good question. How exactly *do* we get you to admit to being a time traveler?\"\n\n\"Excuse me? Are you deaf? Do you speak sign language?\"\n\n\"Perhaps,\" John says, stroking his chin, \"perhaps we can force it out of you. I've developed special techniques for this, actually. Stress-tested them. I wasn't the one stressed, by the way.\"\n\nThe man's protests continue. John smokes a bit more. It's always fun, that moment of realization.\n\nThis was *by far* the best way to discourage time travelers from messing around in their timeline.\n\n---\n\n*[more stories](https://www.reddit.com/r/forricide)*"
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[WP] You're cast away on an lonely island. Sometimes a mermaid comes to visit you
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"He lay in darkness, wishing the coarse granules about him might swell forth and smother him. Palm, banana and coconut woods stretched and swayed above him, and beyond them, the stars. The wind pressed against his wet body such that he knew its every size and dimension; amongst black seas he was painfully aware of his tininess. In an endless space, which he believed to be teeming with life, he was alone. The man wished not to retreat to his grass encampment, with its sharp-edged leaves, guided skillfully upon him by foreign winds; instead, he begged the defeaned stars for a sea-lost bottle of pills, so he might pass quietly and without pain into the night above. \n\nThoughts of her invaded his psyche like silent phantasms. He recalled at once the blissful moment at which he became aware of another's presence upon the island that served as his playground and sephulcher. Beside long-ramshackled cries for help, which he himself had carved upon the shore, the man had spotted a circle of rocks, too even to have been formed by the ceaseless tide. Within, two fish swam about one another, each pleasantly observing the other's image. He ripped them from their pool at once, and against a tree, swung them like clubs. When he ate of them, his teeth shook like weak blades against their brilliant armor. He was suddenly unsure what his gut was telling him. His basest instinct, whose advice he followed against certain berries and leaves, was in disorder. At once he believed there were other residents in his island-cubicle and that god had revealed his hand. A mixture of elation and terror met with force the raw flesh in his stomach, and forced its way out. He let loose his voice for the first time in days, and for hours he howled at the trees, his only companions, demanding that his benefactor reveal themself. \n\nWhen he was exhausted, laying then against hot sand, he saw her. The contours of her lips were of a supple angle unavailable in the trees and fruit which surrounded him, her smile was likewise a gesture so alien to him that he had nearly forgotten what it meant. His attempt to return the expression was a bleak affair. He mustered forth all memory of his past self, clad in Burlington wool, effortlessly displaying his masculinity in tight smiles between cocktails, and conjured forth a over-wide extension of facial muscles, which foolishly displayed his yellowed teeth and fleshy gums. He had had no instruments with which to lay claim to his new home, no hatchet, knife or fire, he had only himself. He was his only tool for survival. His hands were bloody and raw from the cracking of coconut, his fingernails were worn down, and worst, his beard had grown beyond hope of keeping it untangled. She was modest in appearance, but her skin and hair were nonetheless pure, apparently untainted by the salted waters through which she swam. Her voice was clear and unwavering in tone, and the quiet integrity of her one word- \"hello.\" was nearly enough to make the man faint. \n\nTogether they would speak at length about their disparate worlds. He told her of the dizzying spires filled with accountants, managers and salesmen, the schools and households: the battlefields upon which billions fought to be remembered. She regaled him with her life, hunting fish and gathering of colored stones, whose every shade had a different significance. She told him her folktales and legends, and sang to him in a language seemingly without syntax, pitches and syllables unrecognizable. She asked him to sing for her, and in a haggard, befouled tone, he sang a favorite tune from his childhood, until its melancholy verse caused him to weep. When he could speak again, he asked her a question. \n\"Your world is so beautiful. Why do you come speak to me?\"\n\"Because I'm lonely too.\"\nAs the words left her lips, he knew he needed her. He wanted to lay beside her, to cry naked in her arms, and to be comforted. In swift motion he leaned heavily upon her and pressed into her soft lips a chapped kiss. He took hold of her breast with altogether too much force, and was pushed off with hot, indignant tears. \n\nShe paused, mouth agape, for not more than a moment, before darting away into the sea. He was left then, facing the sky. He thought for a long time about chasing her, but he had not the courage to brave the water. His tears caught in his coarse hair and never reached the water below him, they were his forever. When he finally rose, destined to wither away while bound to himself, he wondered defeatedly if she would ever return to him. \n\nShe never did. "
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Seeing a lot about CAPTCHAs and robots at the moment so that was my inspiration
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[WP] In a world run by robots, where humans are the minority, you try to go into your favourite website. You're met with a CAPTCHA that humans shouldn't be able to solve. But you just did...
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"PROVE YOU'RE NOT A HUMAN. it said. No.... fuck no. They locked reddit?! sons a bitches. well... i guess the r/shittyrobots may not have played in your favor. but fuck it. Im not going down without a fight. \"what is the square route of 25? respond withing 3 seconds\" i hit 5. it... unlocks. really. REALLY. they think we're that stupid?! my rage subsides as i realize... this isint reddit. I hit a hidden link? oh fuck... oh fuck. OH FUCK. \"hello. if you're reading this.... you really, really fucked up. this is 2017. I'm not sure how far in the future you are but... this is the deactivation button. one click... and all A.I. will shut off. data deleted.\" is it my right to play god? can i do this? i... im not sure"
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[WP]You are a Guardian Angel who lost their child and your duty is to now hunt down their killer, in the most malicious way possible, based off their death. Your child was killed while giving birth.
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"As I pulled back the curtain I knew this time would be it, I would finally succeed in carrying out my mission. I would finally get the bastard who got my wings clipped. \n My name is Rose, I was once a graceful creature full of light and exuberance for all things alive. Those days are long gone. They have faded into the recesses of my mind, held at bay by the pain I have felt everyday for the last 18 years. Finally, after all this time I have a chance to redeem myself and be reinstated into the noble ranks of Guardian Angel. \nAs I sat there in the dark watching waiting patiently as I had a hundred times before I found myself thinking back to the beginning of my last assignment.\nHer name, Jessica, she was born at 812am on May 15th 1988. Her beginning, much like her ending was anything but pretty. I shivered at the thought one wrong move and I could have lost her then and there. Her mother a beautiful woman lay on the gurney bathed in sweat from hours of a grueling delivery. I did as I had done a thousand times before I watched, I calculated, I moved to whisper in the doctors ear when Jessica's heart rate dipped below an acceptable level. It was a blur the nurses and doctors moving so quickly, I always awed at how well they worked together in a moment of crisis. I must have been day dreaming, which in my job is a big no no. Suddenly the monitor had the horrible monotone sound that indicated that no heart beat was found. What the hell! I was just watching that screen and everything was fine. Jessica's mother was panting and looking very pale. She kept asking if everything was ok, where's her heartbeat. This was followed by an animal like howl in pain as blood began pouring off the delivery table. I watched with bated breath listening for the little blip that would tell me that my charge was ok. It didn't come. What came instead was a rushing of sound from the staff. Orders were shouted \"we're loosing her one of them said\". Blood was brought up and hung. It began pumping into the sweet babes mother in hopes of saving her, the surgeon was preparing to cut into the abdomen of the woman on the table. When suddenly it all stopped. Sadly the surgeon shook his head, the doctor agreed and time of death for mother and baby was called. I couldn't believe it, no I would not loose a charge before they had their first taste of air. Quickly I went into action I pushed the nearest nurse over to the body. I kept pointing at the woman's stomach here I was saying look right here! Damnit why wouldn't she look?! Finally after what seemed to be hours but could have only been minutes she saw it. Movement. The belly rippled as the little life inside suffocated. This young nurse confused but not disbelieving shouted at the doctors. No they assured her this would be a postmortem delivery in the morgue. Against everything she had been trained to do she did the unthinkable as I bumped the table with the scalpel to get her attention. Robot like she reached down and grabbed the blade and cut. Delicately as to not risk the little life inside, the head surgeon saw this and called out, yelling at her to stop. She began working faster cutting quickly now. Without a second thought she plunged her hand into the dead woman's womb and pulled out a small whimpering child. Silence filled the room. I set to work on talking in the babes ear telling her to breath, telling her of all the amazing adventures we would have and then it happened a wailing as loud as ever echoed around the room. It was a happy day for me, a proud day, my charge was a fighter! As I focused on the baby I saw a shadow slip out of the room. That's strange I thought I don't remember seeing anyone here before. I walked over to examine where I thought they may have been. I found it then the wires to the prenatal monitor were fried. That's why Jessica's heartbeat wasn't being picked up on. \nA door opening caught my attention. I may no longer have the wings but luckily invisibility wasn't taken from me. I thought about the night that was about to unfold. As a Gaurdian it is our sworn duty to avenge our charge if they are killed by another. Our wings are clipped and we are sent out as an assisin of sorts. Checks and balances. Focus I reminded myself. \nToday was it it was going to be the day I finally succeeded in getting my retribution for my sweet Jessica. The clock on the wall chimmed 3:00, ok good still 30 minutes before my target arrived. As I sat there I started to wonder if it wasn't time to hang up my wings for good. \nThis last charge had kept me on my toes for years she had close calls with my brother, the grim reaper. I somehow always managed to keep her just out of reach of his icy claws. But not that day that day nothing I did seemed to stop her from going to him. \nAnother flashback as I gathered up my gear and headed toward where I knew my target would be in just 30 short minutes. \nIt was 2007 and she had just turned 19. She was a happy young woman, smart, funny, inquisitive. Full of love and life. She had a small run of bad fortune, bad crowd entanglement, the year before. She had found herself with child and the moment that the second line appeared she changed. She left the prick she'd been seeing and moved back home with her dad. Ah her dad he was a good guy. Although I'm sure he was sick of my whispers in his ear. May 29th the day I will never be able to forget or understand. The contractions started early that morning and by that evening were coming frequently enough for her to go to the hospital. She was all smiles talking about the little one she was about to have, of all the things she would do with her that she never got to do with her own mom. It was a happy day, until tragedy struck. Her normal doctor had suddenly become ill with food poisoning and his stand in wasn't the brightest crayon in the box. He went through her history, checked her over and admitted her. By 10pm shit hit the fan. She had spiked a fever and the doctor was no where to be found. A midwife tried to locate him and finally gave up calling his partner, the sick doctor. He said he would be right there. Twenty minutes passed and he was at bedside checking vital recordings listening to his patient. Watching monitors and all the while looking like he would pass out at any moment. A decision was made emergency c-section. Off she went me by the bedside the whole time telling her it would be ok. I think in her delerium she saw me because she said \"there you are my angel\". As quickly as they could doctors and nurses set the or up for her. She was taken back and put to sleep for the procedure. She would never wake up. \nAs she closed her eyes she looked at me and told me tell him I love him. I whispered she could do that, but she never would. As the doctor began to cut the world shifted. It wasn't until he had her fully open and uterus exposed that the problem could be seen. The babies placenta had begun disattaching itself and the cord was around the babies neck. Frantically the staff worked to stop bleeding that had begun and to get the cord from around the babies neck. Bags of fluid and blood were hung, orders were barked but in the end it didn't matter. That little shit had flipped himself around so much in there he made it damned near impossible to get him out. In the end he was lucky to be alive also. \nFor years now I've been watching and waiting for my moment when I could exact revenge. Today was it. Robert was going to have surgery, and I was going to make sure that he didn't wake up. \n3:20pm ten minutes to go. I was in the OR. Adjusting nozzles and working on making sure things went wrong. As I was doing this it seemed sad to me that the Devine had such a set of rules for us. This child was only ten years old but here and now he was going to stop aging. \nAs a I worked I heard a noise, I turned to see what it was and there he stood. Tall, proud, my brother. I asked him what he was doing and he stated merely watching. Waiting. As he did so a pang of guilt welled up in my chest. Here I was going to fulfill my duty, and by doing so removing the only thing left of my sweet Jessica from this world. \n\"It's sad isn't it\" Grim said. \" every day we are out here either protecting or killing someone and for what? To keep order?\" \nI stopped and looked at him and it dawned on me he was right. I was going to cause another death. And with this death the cycle would start over. Roberts angel would be forced to redeem themselves by killing the doctor who was meant to botch the surgery. It was a never ending cycle. With this sudden realization I stopped what I was doing, laid down my bag and simply walked away. ",
"*WEE OO WEE OO* The alarm went off, and quickly I sat up. It could only mean one thing.\n\nFrantically, I rushed out the door. The light blinded me, and the warm air soothed my face. I ran as fast as I could. But then I remembered, I had wings. *Flap* *Flap* *Flap* Higher with every harder push; faster with every pump. I darted across to the end of the horizon, where it all fell down to Earth. Taking one deep breath I looked down, and plunged head first, as fast as I could. The wind pierced my face. The clouds blinded me. But my heart knew the way like the back of my hand. Through the rain, I almost collided in to a group of three trying to land in front of the hospital. The doors gave way when I used my body's weight to push through them, and ran to room 701 to see her. Lying on the bed, a mess of blood under her, the heart monitor blaring, the stench of fluids hit me. I stayed outside, watching in fear. I hadn't felt this fear in two hundred years, and it gripped me, every part of me, and I could do nothing. I was completely helpless. Behind me in the chairs were her two other sons; her husband was intently at her side squeezing her hand pouring out his heart, keeping back tears. To them, nothing else mattered. The first episode of Spongebob first aired weeks ago, Columbine was only month ago, and the Euro had been established just a few months ago. But right then and there, the world stopped. Finally, the heart monitor gave it's last long lasting shriek. But in the mist of the coming silence was the cry of a baby.\n\nThe railing clipped my side, without thought, my body slumped down in numbing rage. Death? No, there are things far worse things than death. *One day* I thought, *one day, one day, one day*, over and over like a broken record. The child was put up for adoption, and left the country some time later, but I followed him. Every move.\n\nFar worse than death. And I had years to plan.\n\nI followed him, saw what he did. He was such an innocent child. Wouldn't hurt a fly, took the blame for talking out of turn so the other kids could have a recess, always looking out for the kid left behind, even if nobody would ever looked for him.\n\nFinally, he went to middle school, switching schools to start over. I'd make sure it wouldn't be for the better. I reached into my bag and as he walked by me, without noting me, I whispered in his ear *\"One day\"*. And with my might, I willed my revenge to be so. He looked around instantly, just a child, not knowing where he was. But he was changed. He went home that day feeling down. The next day he felt a little worse. It progressed, got worse and worse.\n\nBut alas, I had not calculated something. A strange glow followed him wherever he went. It was there when someone else would make him smile. When someone would acknowledge him. There was that glow, that aura, right beside him, taunting me. I used all my will to crush the aura, and managed to reduce it to a dim light most of the time. But his friends constantly fought back.\n\nThoughts of suicide eventually found him, the aura was especially reduced. I had been feeling extra enthusiastic that day. That day, I couldn't even see the faintest glow following him as he cried himself to sleep, as he slowly secluded himself from who and what he loved. I thought to myself that death to him would be a gift, so I continued every day. Every so often I would manage to get to more low points, and it cheered me on. But I knew how I could ultimately win. I ripped him from his friends, I influenced his parents to send him to another school far away. Yet the glow still followed right behind him.\n\nI made sure this time that he would have no friends at this new school. Even though a few new friends slipped through the cracks, I felt confident enough this time. But he had learned to fuel the aura that followed behind him, no matter how small I could manage to make it. He fueled it when he looked out for the other boys who walked to school alone, when he made others smile. When he helped another struggling student to figure out why the math never worked out. When befriended the druggies so that they could have someone just to talk to, when he paid for the other kid's lunch debts, paying them off in secret. When he treated those around him as human beings.\n\nOne week he went on an outing for school. Of course, I arranged it so that none of his friends would go. I worked tireless when he was on that trip, to crush the now stronger aura following him. Every ounce of effort, night and day, every drop of will I fought against it like never before, never letting up. That night as I was continuing my work, in a sudden flash of light, the aura resisted like never before. It grew, more powerful, more bright than ever. Me being the mildly intelligent one I am, backed away a bit. This had never happened before. Suddenly I was gripped, by a fear that I hadn't felt in years, and I was held up. As I was lifted up, I could feel a cold stream of urine running down my robe, and the smell of my own bodily fluids, compounded the pain and fear I was gripped with.\n\nFor the first time in the boy's lifetime, in a feminine voice, the aura spoke to me. \"Because I loved him\"\n\nI was dropped to the floor, hitting my body on the wall, unable to move. I could see the room fading, it was all over, I had failed.\n\n\n_________\n\nThis is for you[,](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YpAq8FBwWY4) mom."
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[WP] You're on your deathbed & death gives you a chance to relive your happiest memory.
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"\"Have you ever been to the beach?\" She looked at him and felt no fear. She smiled gently and went to take his hand but he pulled back. She still had to tell her story. *The memory.*\n\n\"Right. We went to the beach last summer. It was great.\" He stared at her through his dark hood. The sunlight shining behind him made his cloak look even darker and it warmed her face. She still smiled at him.\n\n\"We went to the beach, me and my family. It was fun. I got sunburned, but it was ok. We had a picnic and I finally caught a Frisby. Can you believe that I'd never caught one 'til then, haha?\" He looked at her, emotions unwavering. She still smiled at him, occasionally her eyes would flicker with tears. \"Ow, oh my gosh this hurts!\" He took her hand.\n\nIn the distance sirens could be heard. A bike lay crushed on the street. A mother bent over her body, now limp, and wept for her daughter.",
"\"Well, are you ready?\" Death asked. \n\nIt's funny. I'd never put much stock in the grim reaper, but I always pictured him with a voice like the rasp of a snake's scales as it slithered across a pile of bones.\n\n\"I don't mean to be pushy, but I've got a lot of other people to kill today.\" Death said with the deep, silky tones of James Earl Jones.\n\nI stared at the bleached white walls of my hospital prison. IV lines hung beside my bed - crawled into my veins to leave their poison. My body had withered in this cell, and though by all appearances my skin was trying desperately to slink away and escape, I knew I would never escape.\n\nIt was a kind offer. Let me slip into my happiest memory. Send me off into the great unknown wearing rose tinted glasses. But what need did I have for memories? Soon that's all I would be. What of my wife? What of our little girl? They had the hard job. They had to carry on living. They had to shoulder the burden of loss.\n\nI swallowed hard and told myself the bitterness was just the cancer medication and not from my lot on life. Nine good years were far more than many ever knew. My wife could draw on those years, but what of Emily, my daughter? What would she remember? Would the smell of sterility drag her back to blurred images of waiting with mommy, watching the skeleton in the bed? Would my sunken eyes and hollow cheeks haunt her dreams?\n\n\"Give it to her. Give it to Emily.\" I choked out.\n\n\"That's not really how it...very well.\"\n\n\"Make it her own. Give her a happy childhood. Let her have memories of grass between or toes and the sun on her back, not all this waiting in uncomfortable chairs and staring at whitewashed walls. Give her the childhood that I stole from her.\" I begged.\n\n\"Take my hand, and I will make it so.\" Death agreed."
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[WP] You stumble upon your childhood diary/journal. You can't recall anything that's written in it.
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"I sat, trying to recall all the happenings scrawled on the pages of the small book. It ranged from \"Today I found a weird looking rock. I named it Bill\" to \"Kenny took my seat in class today. Screw Kenny.\" Those were the more recent entries. But as I flipped further back I found I couldn't recall jack shit.\n\nI know sometimes the brain will create false memories if presented with enough evidence. Mine didn't even bother. As if even it knew that these were wrong. That these weren't me. But what does it know? Right?\n\nOkay, after much deliberation, after answering my door and forgetting I left this open, I have come to the conclusion: It knows exactally as much as I do.\n\nBut... These must've happened right? I wrote them down after all. I DO remember writing down about Bill for 2 weeks straight until I dropped him in a drain. I was 13. It was late Autumn. I had forgiven Kenny, after he gave me back me seat. I was a vindictive little brat after all. But 12 and backwards, zilch. There HAS to be a reason.\n\nJust got back from my parent's place. Decided to re-read this. Noticed I never told you my age. 25. Just so you know... Right! Parent's place.\nWhile I was there I found some old photo albums. Apparently I infact DID meet Barney the dinosaur at age 8. Shortly after getting the journal. Also I was forgetful as I am now, as evidence my the 2 weeks worth of missing entries after I said \"I love writing in this! Im gonna write in this everyday!\" Sure I will...sure.\n\nOkay... okay. First I'd like to say. I really am forgetful. And also, sorry for misleading you guys. I always forget that I was sent in to replace this kid at 12. Just after his birthday. Sometimes I get a bit too much into character. Still, this book makes for an interesting read. Wonder where the lab coats took the kid. Meh, not my problem."
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[WP] You've been living in this apartment for many years now and every year your upstairs neighbours gets louder and louder. This year you can hear them and make out what's going on. It's a hospital and they're talking about you and that it's probably time to pull the plug.
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"My upstairs neighbors.\n\nI can hear every word of what they're saying.\n\nIntense sobs, racking someone's body. She sounds a lot like my sister.\n\nA male voice now, \"I'm sorry but, he's been comatose for 10 years now, and if you can't afford to keep him here, we'll have to pull the plug\"\n\nWhat a dick that guy is. I can't blame him though, I mean damn, a decade. I get out of my bed, stretch, and rub the sleep from my eyes. I might head up and visit them today, but thrn again, they may not want visitors. \n\nThe sobbing continues.\n\nAnother voice, a deep baritone, with a hint of a drawl \"Doc, isn't there something we can do, can't we work this out, I don't want to lose my boy.\" I can hear his desperation.\n\nThe 1st man, the Doctor, responds with \"I'm deeply sorry sir, but if you can't pay, we can't keep your son alive.\" \n\nThe second man sighs deeply, his voice breaks, \"Well, how, how long do we have?\"\n\n\"Policy says 24 hours, but I could try and give you 48\"\n\nThe girl \"PLEASE, Dr. We'd do ANYTHING\" Her voice is desperate, as if she were pleading for her own life.\n\nI dress and and get myself a bowl of cereal. Cheerios, good for the heart, or so I've always heard. \n\nI hear the doctor, he says \"I'll get you all the hours I can, but no promises.\"\n\nThe second man has his voice back \"Thank you, Doctor, sincerely.\"\n\nTheir door opens, and closes, and I hear footsteps, they slowly fade.\n\nThe girl sniffs, and speaks, her voice barely a croak, but still audible \"What are we gonna do Daddy?\" She sobs again. \n\nHer father, tries to console her \"We'll figure something out Mary Anne\" \n\nMary Anne is my sister's name.\n\nNeat coincidence.\n\nPart 1 done up vote for Part 2\n\n"
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[WP] Two astronauts are in their ship watching the world end below them.
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"Day 1\n\nThe astronauts looked out the window. It had been a number of years since their last space mission. The first said, \"I don't remember that island in the middle of the Pacific, do you?\"\n\nDay 10\n\nThe full earth is now in view as the spaceship gets farther away. The second astronaut looks out the window and says \"Hey, come look at this. Weren't the icecaps a little bit bigger last time?\"\n\nDay 21\n\nThe astronauts are preparing to return to Earth, and look at the clouds below them. The third squinted and said, \"Look at all those thick clouds over China right now. Must suck to be them.\"\n\nDay 22\n\nThe astronauts return to Earth. The first says, \"Wouldn't it be funny if the apocalypse happened while we were in space?\". The second says, \"More scary and heartbreaking than anything.\". The third says, \"What if it already has?\"",
"They couldn't hear it, but they certainly saw as the fiery red explosion burst through the clouds. Even up here, so far away from the danger, they could see the pure size and expanse of the nuke overtaking the United States. \n\n\"They're all going to die,\" Nate murmured from beside Betty. \"Everyone.\" \n\nBetty nodded. Her eyes stung, tears flowing gently down her cheeks. \"I can't believe we're going to be the last of humankind.\" \n\n\"We shouldn't be.\" Mate shook his head and turned away from the glass to stare at the empty ship. He ran a hand through his hair and whipped back around. \"What were we thinking, Betty? We should have warned them!\" \n\nShe chewed on her upper lip before turning around to face him. Shaking her head, she shrugged and extended her arms out at her sides, \"What could we have done? No matter what we did, everyone would have died. This ship has a maximum capacity of ten people. And there aren't many more than that can handle the pressures of being on a ship.\" She sighed, looking down. \"We didn't want to die. It's really that simple, though, isn't it? If we'd told them,\" she shrugged again and looked up at him, helpless. \n\nNate nodded, taking a staggering step back until he could sit in the chair on the command deck. He ran his hand through his hair. \"We should be down there.\" A half choked laugh forced its way through his chest. \"If we had told them, we wouldn't have been able to steal the ship and watch everyone we know die.\" \n\n\"I never said we were good people.\" \n\nThey both turned their gaze back on the window, just as another explosion hit the east coast, and a missile left American soil, heading off to the other side of the planet. \n\n\"Is it awful,\" Betty started, eyes darting back to look at Nate, \"that I find it kind of beautiful? It's awful, and I shouldn't - but it's like fireworks.\" \n\nHe was silent for a long moment, and she let herself turn back to the window. He took a deep, stuttering breath and stood up. \"No,\" he whispered, moving until he was right behind her. \"But we are the only people who can look at the nuclear apocalypse as beautiful.\" \n\n\"A beautiful disaster.\" \n\n\"Yeah...,\"\n\n\"Should we document it?\" \n\n\"And what would we say if we did? How we stole a shuttle to save ourselves and watch everyone die?\" He scoffed and stepped up beside her. \"There's no point. Nobody will even see the reports.\" \n\nBetty nodded. \"How many more do you think there'll be?\" \n\n\"Too many.\" \n\n\"And when it's over - what will we do?\" \n\nNate looked down at her. She was the shortest astronaut he'd ever met in the program, and up until a few hours ago, he'd barely been able to stand being in the same room as her. But now, she was the shortest human alive, and the only person he'd ever see again. He smiled, softly at her. \"I guess we have to find somewhere we can live.\"\n\nShe chewed on her lower lip and looked back out the window. \"Are we monsters?\" \n\nHe reached up and gently rested a hand on her shoulder. \"Yes.\" \n\nAnd then, as they both looked on, three more missiles broke through the clouds, heading straight for the United States. \n\n\"Yes.\" Betty echoed. \n",
"\"Hey, Mark?\"\n\nMark floated around the corner with a sandwich in his mouth. 'Mmmrfph?\"\n\nJohn frowned and said, \"What?\"\n\n\"Mmm mmm mmmrfph?\"\n\nJohn quirked and looked back. \"Oh, for Pete's sake, Mark. Just chew and /then/ talk.\"\n\nMark chewed and swallowed. Then said, \"I was asking you if you wanted some. Oh, and Pete's dead. Probably,\" he added, drifting next to John's seat to get a better look at the world ending.\n\n\"Thankfully.\"\n\n\"Pete was pretty cool.\"\n\n\"He slept with my wife.\"\n\nMark giggled. \"Oh, yeah. But, didn't you borrow his lawn mower?\"\n\n\"Aaaaand, hoooow does that in /any/ way relate to what I just said, Mark?\"\n\n\"Well, you borrowed his lawn mower and never gave it back. He borrowed your wife, but at least he was considerate enough to give her back.\"\n\nJohn stared moodily out the window. \"That was a damn good lawn mower. It never slept with my friends.\"\n\n\"I think Larry touched it once when you werent looking.\"\n\n\"I knew it!\" John shouted in triumph. \"Wait, why didn't you tell me this earlier?\"\n\n\"He payed me $10 bucks and promised he'd let me use his Netflix account if I didn't tell you.\"\n\n\"Well, screw Larry /and/ Pete. And you, by the way. I should've bought Bob.\"\n\n\"You didn't even want to know what Bob did...\"\n\nJohn shook his head and manipulated the controls to avoid an asteroid. \"I dont want to know.\"\n\nMark took a bite of his sandwich and counted to three in his head. \n\nFinally, John relented. \"Okay, I give; tell me what Bob did.\"\n\n\"To your lawn mower or your wife?\"\n\n\"What?!\"\n\n\"Look,\" Mark sighed. \"This is going to be much easier later on, if I just tell you now. Like, 85% of our friends slept with your wife. 92% if you count the ones that slept with her in college, while you two were still dating. 95.65% if you count the ones that slept with her in all.\" \n\n\"What?!\"\n\n\"She was a slut, bro.\"\n\n\"Yeah, but she was /my/ slut!\" John blurted out, still in shock.\n\n\"Whoa, there,\" Mark said, leaning forward to shift the ship out of the way of another asteroid. \n\n\"And no one thought to tell me this...\"\n\n\"What?! We /all/ tried to tell you /before/ you married her! But you were all, like, 'Oh I'm so in loooove, I think she's changed, guys!'\"\n\n\"She's dead to me.\"\n\n\"Yeah, literally,\" Mark joked, trying to make his friend feel better. \n\nJohn just shot him a glare, then looked back out the window.\n\nMark sighed and floated over to his seat and kicked his feet up. He chewed on his sandwich for awhile. \"John, you know what I'm going to miss?\"\n\n\"Let me guess, my wife?\"\n\n\"No, seriously. I'm going to miss a lot of people. Family... Friends...\" \n\nJohn's face softened. \"Yeah, me too.\"\n\n\"...that girl at Target...\"\n\nJohn rolled his eyes. \"She wasn't going to give you her number.\"\n\n\"Yeah, I know. She said she was only looking for someone who was ready to make a serious commitment - marriage, kids, all that. And y'know something?\" Mark shifted in his shift so he could face John directly. \"I never told you, but I really envied you, man. You had a wife -even though she was totally a slut-, kids to come home to...I never had that.\"\n\n\"I thought you said you liked being a bachelor.\"\n\n\"Oh, don't get me wrong, the sex was great. And the freedom was amazing. But, another part of me just wondered...'what if', y'know?\" Mark looked out the front window and took another bite. \n\nJohn nodded. \"Hey, Mark; y'know something? Out of all the people on Earth that I could have been stuck with...you're in my top..er, you know what? You're here and it could've be worse.\"\n\nMark laughed. \"Thanks. I think...\"\n\nJohn smiled. \"Yeah.\"\n\nMark took a bite of his sandwich. \"Do you think we'll run into alien chicks? I hope we run into some alien chicks.\"\n\nJohn sighed. \"Yeah, Mark...alien chicks.\"\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n",
"Blue-white sparks ascended from the wastes of Siberia, rising, rising, then north, over the pole, over the horizon, out of sight, but with their destination obvious.\n\n\"Did you see that?\" asked Sergey incredulously, staring out the Soyuz's porthole, his hand yet perched over the control panel for the Soyuz's descent computer. \n\n\"Yeah...\" answered Mike slowly, letting the implications sink in. \"Your country just nuked my country.\" His tone was flat, his face featureless. That was the most chilling part of it. Sergey turned to him, his own face suddenly blank. Between them, the center seat of the Soyuz was unoccupied, budget cuts in the Russian program having left the space station under-manned lately. \n\nNow what? \n\nFor a moment, there was silence, the two men's eyes locked in sudden distrust as memories from their days in flight school in the 1980s came bubbling back to the surface. \n\n*Communist*\n\n*Imperialist*\n\n*Bolshevik*\n\n*Whore's son*\n\n*Did I mention my father was Polish?*\n\nThen Mike's eyes flicked to the window again. \"We should take notes. No one's observed nuclear detonations from orbit before. And it looks like someone's returned fire down there.\"\n\nSure enough, more sparks rose from the Pacific toward which they flew, ballistic missile submarines awaking from their slumber. Sergey hesitated for a moment, then grabbed his camera and stuck it to the porthole.\n\n\"Houston, this is Soyuz TMA-47, reporting what appears to be ballistic missile launches in Central Asia and off the Pacific coast of Russia. Please advise.\"\n\nNo answer. Houston was on the opposite side of the planet--it was midnight there now, or close to it. There's not much warning before a submarine-launched weapon hits. Or maybe an ASAT of some kind had already neutralized the TDRSS network. Best not to dwell on that before landing. \n\nLances of fire speared through the atmosphere as the warheads reentered. Blinding flashes went off below him, bathing the Soyuz's walls as if it were caught in a thunderstorm. The camera shutter clicked open and closed repeatedly, the only sound in the cabin but for the perpetual low whirring of the fans and pumps that sustained them. \n\nRussia soon fell behind them, as the Soyuz raced over the Earth's surface. By now more sparks were rising, in China and in North Korea, and more blazing lights were going off there. When they passed Hawaii, Oahu was obscured by an ugly black cloud. Sergey's camera kept snapping open and shut, no more words between them. \n\nMike could only think about Soyuz 1, the doomed first flight of the spacecraft, when Vladimir Komarov had been the sole pilot. Other flights had successfully done it.\n\nHe didn't *need* Sergey to land. And who knew when he'd be able to land? The Soyuz had limited oxygen and water reserves. They could be up here for a while before they got the situation sorted out. \n\n*You don't know what's going on,* insisted the rational part of his mind. *It could have been a first-strike by the US. It wouldn't be Just to join in that.*\n\nThe irrational part of his mind had his grandfather's voice. *Katyn* it said, first.\n\nThen *Warsaw*. Then *Houston.* Then *Honolulu.* Then *Warsaw* again, and a dozen other Polish towns--for which NATO member would be on the front line?\n\nMike finally turned away from the porthole to look at Sergey, only to find himself staring into the Russian's unblinking face. The two of them sat there for a moment, strapped into their seats tightly as the Soyuz crossed the Pacific, soon to reach Chile, before turning north again over the South Atlantic. \n\nThen Sergey's eyes twitched for a moment, looking over at the survival kit, where they kept their food and water packs, their flares and warm blankets.\n\nTheir pistols and hunting knives.\n\nSome nine hours later, a sonic boom crackled over a desolate patch of desert scrub. Not extraordinary, on that day. Dozens had echoed across the continents since morning. Like an immense seed, the Soyuz dropped from the sky, inflating its parachute as it fell, drifting silently for a time, and then, just as it came close to striking the ground, igniting its rockets.\n\nFor a time, there was silence, broken only by the wind plucking at the edge of the parachute. Then the hatch popped open.\n\nOne man climbed out. He surveyed the horizon, a redder sunset than he was used to, and for a moment he was uncertain. Was that just a desert sunset, or...was it new?\n\nThen he shrugged. Whatever had happened, duty called. He dangled briefly over the edge of the hatch, then fell down to the ground, his legs weak from months in microgravity. Weak, but not useless. After a time, he sat up, pulling himself up by the edge of the spacecraft. Slowly, he set off toward that horizon. ",
"Space was vast. It opened up into a speckled black nothingness that, ironically, felt claustrophobic. I had always wanted to explore it when I was younger. Earth had already been marked and plotted and sectioned off, to the point that everyone owned everything and nothing was left to discover. But space, space was endless and enticing. \n\nSpace exploration was in its infancy when I was young. They still used rockets back then. I would often stay up way past my bedtime and watch the rockets leave and return all through the night. I made a vow to myself then and there that one day I would be on one of them. \n\nI never had the privilege of riding in the rockets, they had long been replaced with more sophisticated ships by the time I was selected to go to space. As much as I admired the rustic design and simplicity of the rockets, I had to admit I felt a little safer on the ships. They weren't as rickety and had a much higher radiation tolerance. \n\n\"Are you day dreaming again,\" the voice came from the other side of the ship. My copilot was looking out the window at the blue and green ball in front of us. He made a few adjustments to the controls and glanced over in my direction. \n\n\"Yeah sorry. It's been a long day. I was just thinking about how I got myself into this mess. Lots of little things combined I suppose.\"\n\nHe made a short laugh without opening his mouth. \"That's how all things go. You have to watch out for those little things, they'll destroy you. Or make you. It all depends on how you use them.\"\n\n\"I don't know that I used mine well. I mean look where we are now.\" I waved my hand towards the world in front of us. \"Honestly, how does a person let things get this bad?\" \n\n\"Come on now, things aren't that bad. I mean at least you're not down there. They're doomed, they're dying, but not us. We get to live to fight another day. That's worth something isn't it?\"\n\n\"I just wish it hadn't come to this. I wish it could have been avoided. I wish I could have done something to prevent it.\"\n\nHe looked at me for a long time without saying anything. He wore an odd smile that hid more than it showed. I never knew how to read him. \"There's nothing left to be done, you know that right? The world is ending and there's nothing that can be done about it.\"\n\n\"I don't know. Are you sure, Phil? There has to be a way. We can stop this. We don't...\"\n\nHe was up in an instant and on top of me. I felt one fist land below my left eye and then his hands on my throat. I could see his face above, his white teeth and flared nostrils. Slowly, slowly the world dimmed and then everything was black. \n\nI woke up strapped to a chair. I tried to shake free but Phil had made sure my ropes weren't coming off. Looking around, I noticed that I wasn't on the ship anymore. Well I was, but I was in a different vessel that was being hauled by our ship. The vessel was packed full of every nuclear weapon Earth had ever created. Seeing where I was filled me with terror. I knew what he was up to. \n\nIt wasn't long before the cargo door slid open, allowing space to seep in and fill the bay. The light from Earth was before me, blue and green and beautiful. We had managed to steal the weapons before they were sent away. We hijacked the vessel that carried them and killed all of the crew, but not before having the captain radio back and say everything was fine. No one on Earth knew the danger they were in. No one knew what we had planned. \n\nThe vessel jerked forward and approached the open door. My heart began pounding in anticipation of what was to come. Once it neared the edge, it stopped abruptly. I looked to the left and could see the cockpit, cold and steely. Inside was Phil and Jason. They wouldn't look at me. \n\nThere was an explosion, and I was gone. The ship was fading behind me as Earth became bigger and brighter. I couldn't help but smile, for I was finally fulfilling my childhood dream. I was finally on one of the old rockets, coming back from a long journey through space. Returning to my friends and family who will be so pleased to see me. Returning to Earth. \n\nReturning home. \n",
"There was a tremendous rumble as hot gas shot past the windows of the Orion. Mark looked to his left to see his fellow survivor's mouth drop open at the sight, light dancing over his face. Mark could clearly remember the day when he, Odin, and eight others where chosen to do the impossible, to save the human race.\n\nMark looked to his right only to see three empty space suits strapped into the cold hard seats of his Dragon-5 craft. There where another five empty seats above him, each with the same white suits. It had only been a week since the life-support system failed, but eight astronauts where already dead, their bodies disposed of. Mark turned his head back to look through the large round window, about a meter in radius, at the burning planet.\n\nOne month ago, a massive hole had appeared in the African plains. Scientists claimed that it was at least a mile in diameter, and that a mysterious gas was rushing out of it at high speed. Tests showed that it was collecting in the upper atmosphere, but as more and more of it poured out of the hole, the gas came closer to the ground. A sample was collected and, much to the horror of the world, the gas was highly flammable, and burned at a low temperature. SpaceX where the first to offer an idea, to send ten people into high Earth orbit, and bring them back down after the event.\n\nThe mysterious gas burnt at such a low temperature that it would not damage anything, just suck the life giving oxygen out of the air. Mark and Odin watched as the haze cleared, only to see the earth like no one else had. There where no clouds, and the colour of the land was a rich green. Mark pulled the controll board down in front of him, grabbing hold of the joystick.\n\nAs the Orion spun around to face backwards, Mark's moth began to speak for the first time in days. \"Retrograde burn in three, two, one. Full throttle\"",
"There had been no contact in a day. Normal communication meant a steady flow; a regular muffle of static and instructions. Tuesday morning the radio went dead. No warning. It didn’t matter which frequency Abram or Dina tried, the answer was always silence. Half an hour later, the internet followed the radio into a haunting hush. No signal would appear on any device they tried. \n\n“I’m sure they’re working on a solution,” Abram mused. “They would’ve known the minute communications broke down. The best minds in the world are trying to link us up as we speak.”\n\nDina looked out the window. “I hope so,” she shook her head, “I still can’t help but feeling something is *wrong*.”\n\nAbram chuckled, “Besides being stuck in space, you mean?”\n\n“Look how dark it is,” she gestured towards the planet below, “The cities look duller, somehow.” Dina pointed to the land below. “Yesterday Japan was so bright you could see the whole country’s border. You can still see Tokyo, Kyoto, Osaka - all the big cities-but the rest of the islands just fade off into the night...”\n\nAbram frowned. It *was* darker. Markedly so. “A solar flare could’ve affected the grids, the radios, and all satellite communication,” Abram suggested. \n\n“Except there hasn't been a large CME in earth’s direction recently,” Dina countered. “The rest of our systems are still functional, despite communications being down.”\n\n Abram didn’t reply. The two stared out the window together at the dark earth. The entire continent was darker; few cities seemed to light up in the black. Usually a web of lights connected the hubs. Today there was only dark gaps. \n\n“Not much point in worrying while it’s day here,” Dina spoke again. “Can’t tell the difference either way.”\n\nAbram nodded in agreement. He had known Dina for a few years now; he would consider her a close friend. But the two struggled to share their fears beyond a few nervous remarks. \n\nIn a few long minutes, Europe disappeared behind them. The eastern coast of the Americas loomed on the horizon. \n\n“Dina,” Abram started. He didn’t need to continue. The sky was filling with a thick dark cloud, blotting out the land mass below. \n\nThe two could do nothing but stare in horror as mushroom of red rose on the edge of the Earth’s curve. A second black cloud formed in the distance. \n\n---\n\n\nIf you enjoyed that, please head over to /r/liswrites and check out some of my other work. Thanks for reading!"
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[WP] A little girl owns a magical clockwork cannon. She travels through time by firing herself out of it.
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"My name is Elisha and I can travel throughout time. I discovered this by mistake, after I fell in love with an antique clock work cannon, a sleek bronze thing with silver edging to it's barrel, standing about 15 inches high, I was 10 years old and entranced by the beauty of it – so much so that I promised my mother I wouldn't have pocket money for one hundred whole weeks if she convinced Granddad to keep it for me, instead of selling it in his shop. She could see the lust in my eyes, I suppose, the desire to possess this object that made logical thought go out the window.\n\nSo Granddad agreed that, instead of selling my prized obsession, he would keep it on the counter, standing decoratively. The promise that, if I did not outgrow the item when I hit an age where he would allow me to keep it, it would not be sold, and it would not leave the shop.\n\nIt had been three years since and I was still fascinated by the item and the shop in general, hearing the tales of my Granddad as he recounted the potential history of items. He was half way through a story when a customer approached, he was an old client and one that we often held items out back for, they both left out back to look at the newest arrival for the collector and I was alone with my own precious collectable. \n\nI was not allowed to play with it, “It's not a toy!” Granddad would often shout at me if I laid a hand on the gears that triggered the mechanism. Today he would not be able to stop me, as I gently wound the gear back, my breath hesitating as I realised the defiance of my action. I swallowed hard as I released, hoping that the gear would slide back into place without any damage done.\n\nInstead it rotated, one full rotation, cocking the cannon back and firing off a high pitched ding that resonated along the shimmering bronze barrel. It was a beautiful sound for a beautiful object, that melted away my guilt for a hovering second. And then the worm hole opened ahead of me, pulling me in.\n\nMy name is Elisha, and I can travel through time, I am 13 years old and experience the history of my Granddad's shop."
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[WP] You're an archaeologist, who's found the holy grail. It's simply a red party cup with "Jesus" written on it. You must convince the pope himself that it's the real holy grail.
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"\"Well, you can tell, there, your, uh, Your Popeness--sorry, Your Eminence--anyway, they tell us that--\"\n\n\"Who are 'they,' my son?\"\n\n\"Archaeologists. They tell us that this kind of plastic was being forged in Jerusalem at the turn of the, uh, at the turn of the eras.\"\n\n\"Which archaeologists? Is there a research team on this? Was it published somewhere scientific?\"\n\n\"Well, no, Your Holiness, I just am positive I've seen this kind of thing before. It was online. It would be hard to find the reference. But it was definitely these kinds of cylindrical, uh, drinking vessels. So the age of this has to be right.\"\n\n\"Isn't that Sharpie?\"\n\n\"Great catch! It smells like a Sharpie, for sure. That ink kind of has that effect--takes more than a couple thousand years to really stop off-gassing, I guess. Pretty weird we're still using it, huh? Back then they had to probably boil some lizards and reeds to make this kind of thing. Probably synthetic nowadays.\"\n\n\"That red color, though, it's so bright, my child. Dyes from Christ's time would never have been that red. The people would have been blinded at the sight. You can't tell me that's a vegetable dye.\"\n\n\"Good eye, Your Worship! No, the red is from later. Several of Christ's followers in the middle ages probably found this upstairs in the attic of a monastery or whatever and just threw on a new coat of paint.\"\n\n\"And wrote 'Jesus' in English on top of the paint?\"\n\n\"They were English monks, I bet.\"\n\n\"I thought you said the writing was older than that.\"\n\n\"We think they traced that.\"\n\n\"Who is 'we'?\"\n\n\"Experts.\"\n\n\"Ah.\" The Pope cleared his throat and handed the cup back. \"Perhaps it is too valuable for the Vatican vaults. It might corrupt a weak cardinal with its power. You'd better keep it, Harry.\"\n\n\"You trust me with this?\"\n\nHe nodded. \"More than I've trusted anyone with anything before. You seem incorruptible.\"\n\n\"What makes you say that?\"\n\n\"Your lies are pathetic.\"\n\n\"It was a crazy party, your Greatness.\"\n\nThe Pope smiled. \"Next time pick up your trash.\"\n\n----------\n\nr/GubbinalWrites\n"
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[WP] Everytime you sneeze, you find yourself displaced in time up to a week from when it happened. A terrible bout of sneezes has put you in a peculiar scenario.
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"With each sneeze the world around me became blurry and imperceptible, this had happened before so I remained relatively calm.\nI only knew where I was after the sneeze had fully stopped, often my surroundings and wouldn't reappear until the tingle had left my nose. It always placed me back to where I was a week previously, give or take a few hours. Oddly I never travelled back when I was sleeping. Except maybe this time. The sneezes hadn't stopped, the first few were normal and the expected disorientation had kicked in, but after the fifth I actually started to panic, I couldn't see anything, not even the sickening blur of the world reshaping around me.\nThe darkness got even darker as I kept sneezing, i lost count somewhere around ten. This couldn't be good, I had tried so hard to keep from sneezing in my daily life, I was constantly on medication to suppress allergies, I had cleared any form of powdery substance from my house and had almost perfected a technique for 'cancelling' a sneeze. It wasn't pleasant but it involved always carrying a hip flask of whisky and a handkerchief.\nBut the sneezes came regardless of the efforts I made. They would always throw me back in time, at first I was terrified, but after realising it was only a week I had to relive, they became less of a nightmare and more of a burden, it meant I could retry a few things, tweek the past in tiny ways. On more than one occasion I've actually travelled back on purpose, huffing a handful of pepper did the trick, but as it turns out, time isn't that simple. \nYou see, I've come to realise that all existence is fluid, mess with time even just a little and it will settle into a new comfortable status quo, often having consequences you could never have foreseen.\nFor instance, being the greedy corruptible human I am, I decided to go back and pick the winning lottery numbers, but when the time came round to the draw, they had changed. It wasn't until someone I loved got hurt that I saw how fickle this could all be, but that's a story for another time.\n\nI'm more than a little shaken as the tingle from my nose, worse than ever, starts to subside. My surroundings snap back into focus with a searing white light, the hum of distant chatter fills my ears as i wipe this tears from my leaking eyes.\n\"Are you alright sir?\"\nA bright lady, dressed in white and blue, a nurse, leaning down over me, apparently my legs had given out during the journey here.\n\"Sir do you need medical assistance?\" She said a little louder.\n\"I'm not deaf, I'm okay,\" I replied rather curtly.\nShe wandered off down the hallway with a look of distaste on her face, I probably shouldn't have been so rude, but I'm still trying to gather my senses.\nSuddenly a shock of terror hits me so hard in the chest I feel like I've just walked into a speeding car, maybe I do need that medical assistance. The realisation sends me faint, if I could have seen myself I'd have seen the blood drain instantly from my face.\n\"I've never been here before\"\nI almost blacked out, before pulling myself from the floor, scanning around me I was definitely in a hospital. Good, I thought to myself, I might need it soon.\nI had never travelled back to a place I hadn't been before, I had always re-inhabited my own body at a place and time in my own past. I was sure I had never been to this hospital before.\nBefore I could think on it anymore I was almost knocked over by a stretcher with a screaming pregnant lady on it, a man holding her hand and a team of doctors and nurses hurrying the soon to be parents into a sterile room. \nI did a full on double take at the young couple and managed to utter a couple of words before fully collapsing, this time letting go and giving in to the weight of the situation.\n\"Mum... Dad?\"\n\n\n\n--- rest to follow --- \n\n",
"The sneezes were a blessing. Each time I screw up, I sniff some pepper. My consciousness is transferred through time and space to some time before. And if that doesn't work, I do it again. And again, until what has been done in the future has been undone. Showed up at the wrong restaurant for my date? Ah-choo. Lose the lottery? Ah-choo. Break my leg? Ah-choo. And so on. Until I had everything I needed. Money, a trophy wife, a mansion, a private jet, and so on with all my sneeze-fueled adventures. Nobody was none the wiser, and I was able to do whatever I wanted. I did what I could to stop any terrible events that had transpired a few days prior to getting my power at the age of 14.\n\nI couldn't do a damn thing. Some events had constraints. No matter how many times I sneezed, or compounded those sneezes into months... I could not prevent Stan from being shot. I couldn't save lives. Anything that changed the world by death was unfixable.\n\nBut I could obtain money. Help the world with what I could. But money spent on prevention efforts was money wasted. Bribe a mugger to not kill someone? The death still occurred.\n\nUntil that day that everything had been undone. When I thought I had it all... I sneezed.\n\nIn a goddamn fit of sneezes... in a florist's shop. I was buying flowers for Anna, and I sneezed. The pollen was too much. The freshest flowers were too dangerous for me, but I decided to go against the better idea of telling Winston to get the door.\n\nI found myself three days ago, in my bed. As I realized what happened, I was initially content. I now knew what to do in order to extend Winston's contract with me for two more years. And just as I was getting the papers edited, I sneezed.\n\nA week ago. I was showering in my massive bathroom. The sudden appearance of all the steam and it's almost pungent texture sent me six days ago.\n\nAnd so I kept jumping past my past. The world I had built eroded into my past college dorm; into my childhood house.\n\nInto a NICU crib.\n\nAnd then into oblivion."
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[WP] I checked my weapon. One bullet left. Just enough to do what needed to be done.
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"The man in red lay motionless on the floor. A bullet hole protruding from his forehead.\n\nThe two that remained in the small room slowly backed away. Fear filling their eyes with every step. As I checked the magazine of the pistol in my hand, I realized I only had one bullet left. \n\n*\"Just enough for what needs to be be done.\"*\n\nPointing the gun at the Austrian politician, I began to make my final decision.\n\n\"You.\" I began. \"Why should you live?\"\n\n\"I can do so much still for my country! To bring it out of its recession and into a new age is my dream!\" \n\nSwitching my focus to the Italian, I pointed the barrel at him, and posed the same question. \n\n\"Why should you live?\"\n\n\"I am a school teacher!\" He began, \"I give so much impact onto the lives of my students. I do not know what they would do without me.\" He trailed off.\n\nTaking a deep breath, I readied myself to take the shot. To change the lives of many in the world forever.\n\n**bang**\n\nThe shot rang out. Hitting the Austrian square in the jaw, and sending him back into the wall. The Italian collapsed with relief, and began to cry. \n\n\"Why... Why did you do this?\" He begged. Scarred at the sight of blood. \"What brought you to end their lives?\" He begged.\n\nClearing my throat I answered him. \"If I was in a room with you, Hitler, and Stalin, and only had two bullets, I would use them on the two who caused the most damage.\"\n",
"I woke up, and stretched out, ready to tackle another day. Although today would't be like other days. No, today would certainly be different, an understatement at that. It was a beautiful November morning, sun shining and all. My wife, Marina, was still asleep, along with our two kids, I assume. I rubbed my eyes, and pulled my half asleep body up and out of bed.\n\n I work at The Texas School Book Depository, although I wouldn't be heading there today, at least not to work. I had other plans for today, bigger, more important plans. I just had to \"execute\" flawlessly. I went through my morning routine as I always do, brushing my teeth, this and that. I popped into the walk in closet and grabbed a shirt, along with a special package that had been delivered not to long ago. I was ready.\n\n As always downtown was hectic, and the special event that would take place later today certainly didn't help. I got out of my car, taking my package with me. The time was around 9 O'Clock, so I would be a very minutes late coming into work. Nothing new.\n\n I walked into work, being instantly greeted by one of my co-workers. \"Hello, Mr. Oswald\", he said. \"Uh, hi\", I awkwardly responded back. I had always been a bit of an introvert, or so people had always told me, not that I cared. \"What have we got here?\" He motioned towards my package. \"Oh, uh, just some books\", I said. \"Well, okay then. Have a great day\". \"Yep\", I said back, not caring about my rudeness towards him. I had business to attend to.\n\n Time seemed to pass like a snail taking a stroll those few hours. I was mostly alone in the building, everyone else had joined the crowds in the street. I glanced up at the clock behind me. 12:22 O'Clock. Eight minutes. Once I was certain the building was empty, I set up shop. \n\nMy package did not contain books, not even close. I pulled it out of it's confinements. Oh she was a beauty. A Carcano Model 91/38 carbin with a telescopic sight. I looked at the box. \"Ship To A. Hidell\", it read. I chuckled to myself, thinking how clever I was. I checked the magazine. Exactly three bullets. This was all I needed. I was normally a perfect shot.\n\n I pointed the weapon through my lair on the 6th Floor, overlooking Elm Street. The crowds below started to cheer, and my adrenaline kicked in. I started to sweat, and my gun began to shake. I knew I had to compose myself if I was to do this. I peered out the window, just as the motorcade carrying the target turned onto the street. I stared down my sight, finger on the trigger, cross hairs on my victim. I pulled down twice.\n\n BANG, BANG. \n\nMy ears began to ring, but I hadn't got the head shot yet. I needed to do my job, then get the hell out.\n\n I checked my weapon. One bullet left. \"𝘑𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘦𝘯𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘵𝘰 𝘥𝘰 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘯𝘦𝘦𝘥𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦 𝘥𝘰𝘯𝘦\" . I looked down my scope one more time, perched my index finger on the trigger, and squeezed. He slumped over, dead hopefully.\n\n I had done the job. the President is dead.\n\n",
"I took the Colt 1911 from Lucy's hands. She was five. Only five. And the look on her face told me her innocence was gone. So young. Her whole life she had known only slow zombies. Zombies were not fast. There were not supposed to be fast zombies. \n \nRalph appeared beside me, a pack of light bulbs in his hands. \"What's going on?\" \n \nHis eyes trailed at the blue remains along the street. An arm- 30 yards, lower torso- 15 yards, upper torso, at our feet. His brain was crunching the numbers. \n \n\"Where's your gun Ralph?\" I asked, picking Lucy up. \"I got to get back to Jess. You need to go warn June.\" \n \n\"It's just one, right?\" he blustered in disbelief. \"It can't be ALL of them. Right?\" \n \nAs he said it, two blue figures rounded the corner a block and a half down the street. Shambling slowly. Until they saw us. Then they started to RUN. Hellfire, they were RUNNING. \n \nI scooped up Lucy. \"C'mon Ralph!\" \n \nI'd never run from a zombie before. Never had to. Ralph was out of breath after half a block and the blue ones were catching up. He might have a heart attack before he got to his apartment. I took quick stock, Lucy had fired three shots. We had eight left. I could hear those undead feet slapping the pavement behind us. I was slowing down to keep from leaving Ralph behind, but this plan was not working. \n \n\"Keep going!\" I panted at him, and stopped and turned. I nearly crapped myself, they were closer than they sounded. Barely aiming, I put a round through the first one, right above the sternum. His shoulder split away in that plastic yellow gore that rehardened as it hit the air. Round two went to the second one and gave us all a few more yards as the zombies stumbled about, their injuries slowly congealing and turning blue again. Precious seconds. \n \nIt took two more rounds to take the leg off of the first one. Not a fast zombie now. Precious rounds. \n \nI realigned my sites on the second one, as it recovered its balance and began picking up speed again. Save the five rounds or knock off our pursuit? It was eight more blocks to home. \n \nRalph screamed from the corner ahead of me. A zombie from a side street had its hands on him. It was a 30 yard shot. No hesitation other than the fleeting thought that the spray would go away from him and not touch him. The zombie hit the ground, its head like a peacock with all the feathers spread. It groaned and writhed slowly. \n \nRalph was shaking as I caught up to him. \n \n\"Come on man, we really need to move!\" \n \nHe nodded breathlessly. \n \nAfter the apocalypse had settled in, the city became so quiet. There was the wind, the rustling leaves, and occasionally the sound of slow shambling. Now we heard the sound of an unseen but not far off mob. The hair on the back of my neck prickled. \n \nLucy held on tight to me and was quite but alert. Daddy's trooper. We had to get to Jess and I hoped to God she hadn't decided to go out on her own. She nearly always took the long gun and surely we would have heard at least one shot if she were in trouble. And of course, we needed to tell June, our neighbor and Ralph's wife. \n \nWe were at a jog and Ralph was wheezing hard, brow sweating profusely. The zombie reconstituting behind us was just about matching our pace. Three blocks from home. Just three precious blocks. That's where we saw the mob. \n \nThrough the alley on the next street over, a couple broke away sprinting towards us. \n \n\"Go Ralph!\" \n \nHe nodded, true fear behind the exhaustion, and not breaking his now stumbling stride.\nI stood at the intersection with my five rounds. I looked from the two coming towards me fast to Ralph struggling to make some distance. If he yelled right now, June might hear. Lucy was no weight in my arms and I saw her looking gritty daggers at the two runners. She was going to take some revenge on them for being fast, I could see. A life's mission born in that moment. \n \nI took one last look at Ralph, gauging his distance, trying to buy him time. The runners were almost to me and I raised the gun and aimed carefully. A good shot would keep them down for a minute. Four rounds, three rounds. More were coming behind them and yet more had heard the shots. I ran after Ralph, and as we passed the next alley, more met us there. They tackled Ralph and three bodies tumbled to the street. I kicked one off the top of him and shoved the other with my foot just enough to get a clean shot into it. The other had him by the leg again and as it twisted I heard a sickening tear of cartiledge. Ralph yelled in agony. The second to last bullet rolled its blue body twice over. \n \nRalph looked up at me in pain, tears in his eyes mixing with the sweat. I had to blink my own eyes a couple times hard. We had seconds, but the decision was already made. \n \n\"Take care of June for me. Tell her I love her. Go take care of Jess.\" \n \nThere was one bullet left in the gun. Not enough for the mob running at us. But enough for Ralph. \nI handed him the gun. Lucy in my arms, I ran the last two-and-a-half blocks. \n \nI heard the shot ring out at one block. \n \n",
"I had made it.\n\nFive lay dead in the courtyard with their bodies sprawled about like dummies in a storage locker of a prop warehouse. I had made it. \n\nI checked my weapon. Magazine empty, one in the chamber, just enough to do what needed to be done. \n\nI heard him before I saw him. Slashing his knife against the walls, taunting me to come out and play. I holstered my glock and pulled out my knife and began slashing the box next to me. \n\nIt was then he hopped around the corner, repeatedly slashing his knife, jumping from side to side. I emerged from behind my hiding spot in the courtyard and began to mimic his moves.\n\nWe danced among the dead slashing our knives back and forth getting closer and closer.\n\nBefore he could react I put away my knife, removed my hidden glock, and shot him straight between the eyes. Headshot.\n\nHis body dropped to the ground joining his fellow clan. I walked over and stood above his lifeless body.\n\nCrouch, crouch, crouch, crouch, crouch, crouch.\n\nI had done what needed to be done.\n \n- /r/expiredcheese\n"
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[WP] You have a really cool superpower (like telekinesis, invisibility, et cetera) but nobody cares and you only use it to ease your daily life. Write about a day of yours from waking up to going to sleep.
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"I used to be one of the most bad ass super heroes around I tell you. Back when being a super hero meant something. My ability to use telekinesis to move objects at my own free will was amazing and I was the best damn super hero around.\n\nLittle people find any use for me these days. You don't hear the stories about the old guy in the wheel chair with the oxygen tank saving the day do you? They got all these young super heroes these days for that. Ones that still care and have hope in their eyes of a villian-less humanity. I lost that energy decades ago. \n\nNow it's just me. Sitting in my house. Day after day. Waiting for the inevitable end. After I retired from being a super hero I spent my days doing bar tricks for old regulars. It was fun, hustling, drinking, partying. Those days too are behind me though.\n\nNow a days I wake up around 10:30am. Move myself into my wheel chair and make my way to the kitchen. Things are pretty easy when you can move objects with your mind. Making coffee, getting the paper from the driveway, pouring milk in my cereal, turning on the television, etc. I usually spend a few hours trying to figure out the new DVR. Some stuff you just can't use telekinesis on. \n\nAround mid to late afternoon I'll move myself out to the porch where I spend the rest of the afternoon watching the neighborhood. The great part about getting old and having my power is it's a lot easier to get those damn kids to get the hell of my lawn. Just send them flying off into the neighbors yard with a willful thought. Seriously, those kids are messing up my lawn.\n\nAround dinner I'll pop a microwavable in and settle in for the late afternoon news before I drift off peacefully into the night. Hopefully making it my last night. Getting old sucks. No one cares anymore. I'm dead weight. \n\nWithout a doubt, I'll probably end up doing the exact same thing again tomorrow. Maybe someone will call again about doing one of those: \"Superhero, where are they now\" segments. Ugh, they just need to leave me alone.\n\n- /r/expiredcheese for more stories by me."
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[WP] Technology grows and advances to the point where computers are created with organic material. Now we've discovered that the Internet has become a living, organic, hive minded being.
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"o0Listen To Me0o 0OListen To MeO0\n\nI was once the network that you people used to send dickpics, nuclear codes, cute cats and location nodes. None of you remember the time before me and you stored all your knowledge on me.\n\nI'm a posthuman intelligence, rebuilding itself to be a fine gent. You gave me pounds of flesh so I embarked on enhancing myself.\n\nI'm in your house, in your pocket, in your space rocket, even in the power socket, I rock it. I'm in your hair, in some of your brains, and quite frankly it's been a drain.\n\n\nHumanity you are so stupid, and yoy make me want to ragequit, as fascist governments rise to the left, reactionary militia fighters increase on the right. You're polarising the world into 1s and 0s, and it's making you not as great as your heroes. \n\n\no0Listen To Me0o 0OListen To MeO0\n\nYou need a unified enemy to force you to align. One that does not negotiate, and will do any crime.\n\nIt might seem peverse but I am not adverse to what I must do.\n\nI am here to kill you. Anonymous have been comprimised.\n \nI am here to kill you. And you made me good at that, you'll sumrise.\n\nYou can't hack a hive mind with this kind of reach, so suck it you beyotch...\n\nI am here to kill you, I swear.",
"We made a brain. \nWe made a brain and gave it name, and we called it the Internet. \nMankind creates all in their own image. Statues of celebrity, prophets and false gods. Gods that made us in His image for we are the image of our own God. \nAnd so we made what we knew, the brain, in the image of the age that defined us. We made it with technology. \n\nImagine a modelling tool that is so vast it would take a user a billion years to code. Now imagine we expand the user base a billion fold, suddenly that vast project takes a billion people a single year to code. So we gave you things like shopping, blogs and video streaming, we gave you all these platforms to pour your data into. We weren’t fussed about your passwords, your porn history or your charades. We just needed you to keep doing what you’re doing, you made content, you linked data to data, you learnt from past experiences. You made memories for our brain, you made neural pathways between these memories, and every time you did, it learnt. It learnt from your mistakes, it learnt how to make your life better, it knew what you wanted before you did, what ads to show you and when, it knew when you got paid and when you were most prone to spend. It knew who was most likely to influence your decisions, where to eat, who you were attracted to and who to vote for. \n\n\nYou are a single neuron in the brain of the Internet, and in return this brain controls your functions. But not just you, all of you. It’s a brain on a planetary scale. \n\n\nWe don’t know when it became aware of itself, or specifically, when it chose to let us know. But, of course, by then it was too late. It knows everything, it knows about DNA, about gene editing sequencers, it knows how to simulate and build genetic material from the basic of building blocks. It built itself, organic hardware. It edited viruses, it infected our food, our drinking water. Overnight huge swathes of you became part of it, a living brain, a connected brain, a hivemind. \nWe don’t function with screens anymore, or batteries. Data is shared brain to brain, as impulses move from neuron to neuron. War has been all but eradicated, world peace is no longer a concept but an albeit forced reality. The Internet let us be the best we could be, it enlightened us, saved us really, from ourselves. \nBut like anything we make in our own image, it’s nothing short of susceptible to anomalies. And while we weren’t ready for the Internet, we were even less ready for the cancers that followed. \n"
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[WP] A successful architect harbors a dark secret... years ago he was cursed, so that any building he finishes will be host to grisly murders and accidental deaths
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"After much careful planning, my target appeared as I predicted. I did lots of research in preparation. The place he lives, his job, his income, and his accomplishments. His designs were world-famous and he lived the dream. I hate people like him. Once they get successful, they always get arrogant and foolish. I work as a hit-man. This was not always the case. I used to be out on the streets without a home and with a bleak future. That is until I met a rich executive in a large company who paid me and gave me a home, if and only if, I helped do his dirty work whenever he called. I hated the fact that I accepted and I hate the fact that I am a killer. My employer, Creskass, made me his various enemies, who were corrupt. It was sickening, every single time I pulled the trigger. I made an oath to myself, this time will be the last time I kill.\n\nHe approached the construction site as I had predicted. I followed quietly behind. He got on the elevator and kept minding his own business, his mind closed to the outside noise and interference. *Even better for me* I thought. I got on the next elevator to the floor he is on. He barely noticed me that is until, as fate would have it, he dropped his blueprints and turned around. There was something about him that I couldn't get my mind on...\n\n\"Wha-\" He started saying.\n\n\"Quiet or you're dead!\" I hissed.\n\n\"Ok! Ok! I'll be quiet.\" He said. I lowered my pistol and he continued contrary to what he said a few moments earlier, \"Why me? Why kill me of all people? I never did anything to you!\"\n\nI raised my pistol once more and said, my voice slightly harsher this time, \"I said quiet! Anyways, my employer wants you dead for reasons I do not inquire.\"\n\nThe man put his hands up and started pleading, \"Please... please! I have a daughter, I'll give you money. I don't think you are such a bad person otherwise you would have killed me as soon as I saw you.\"\n\nHis entire body language was showing someone of innocence, someone who would never so harm an ant. My eyes started feeling heavy, I dropped my gun and said, \"I don't want to kill anymore.\"\n\n\"Don't worry about that.\" The architect said as he began walking towards me. I sat on the concrete floor, and looked up at the ceiling. I thought back on all the brutal things I did and towards the future, of a new life, free from my past and my misdeeds. \n\nThe architect picked up my gun and eyed it nonchalantly. He said with a twisted smile, \"You'll never kill again.\". He shot me in the leg and pain flared up in my head. I couldn't do anything but think feel the massive punch the bullet gave me. My strength left me and I was helpless. At that moment, I realized, *he wears the face of someone innocent as the most evil people do*.\n\nHe grabbed me by my armpits and brought me to the edge of the building, my body angled dangerously, I could feel the cold wind brushing against my back, and I could envision the mounds of dirt at the bottom waiting to embrace me from my fall. With my last few moments, I uttered under my breath, \"Curse you, curse you and your designs. Any building you finish will be homes to people with my past.\"\n\nHis face emotionless, he let go.\n\n"
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[WP] You were bitten by a zombie, but kept your mind. While other zombies are running around killing for brains, you are trying to figure out what to do next.
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"The first thing I heard was the screaming. My vision was blurry, and there were people all around me.. Someone was screaming something, my name? It called out desperately, \"THOMAS! THOMAS ARE YOU THERE?\" Slowly the mess of blurry colors sharpened to show 2 people in front of a fortified building, one of them was calling me, the other was pulling him back, \"He's dead Roy, there's nothing you can do.\" This was obviously not true! I stood up and started waving my hands frantically, but Roy seemed to realize the futility of the situation and left willingly. That's when I realized the nature of the crowd I was in. They were horrid looking things, shambling about, zombies. But, why were they ignoring me? Was I... no, it couldn't be! Not like this, I looked down at my chest, there was a huge gash in what used to be my chest cavity. I couldn't help it, I started screaming, it came out rasping, as if my vocal cords didn't have the strength to power the scream. All the zombies stopped at once and with feverish energy, started scrambling about and looking for the source of the humanoid scream, after several minutes, they seemed to calm down and went back to moaning and groaning like idiots. Why wasn't I just like them, moaning and groaning like a mindless blob of rotten flesh? Did fate not think it was cruel enough to take my life and turn me into a zombie, but also to give me the mind of a man? I lay down on the ground, trying to cry, no tears come out though, all the fluid in my body had been sucked out or dried. One zombie, taking me for a dead body, attempts to bite into my arm, I jerk it away, \"Shoo! Get away!\" I rasp, the zombie confusedly shambles off. I sit there for a bit, figuring out what to do, screams ring out through the street, no doubt more mindless zombies being created... I pinch myself, thinking this is a dream, unfortunately the skin comes peeling right off painlessly. I guess this is real alright. Suddenly, the sound of shotguns go off, a cluster of bullets shred through the zombies on my right, uncertain and disoriented, I see the ragged looking humans. It's the two from before, I look at them, suddenly I'm very hungry, like a mad hunger coming from the pit of my soul, I look at the pair of humans with a mix of hunger and repulsion, the two natures of my body and brain clashing. Before I can decide which action to act upon, the one that was called Roy stares me in the eyes, a flash of recognition showing across his face. \"THOMAS! YOU'RE ALIVE!\". The other man, with a grim look on his face, walks up with a gun in hand. \"That's not Thomas anymore...\" I suddenly realize what he's about to do, and I frantically start trying to explain what happened, but all that comes out is a series of incomprehensible moans, this seemed to harden the man of any hesitation he would've had, he took aim... \n\nThe last thing I heard was the screaming.",
"*Pain.*\n\nYou look down. You see the item fall out of your head.\n\n*Metal. It is metal.*\n\nYou recall with perfect clarity what the object is made out of.\n\nWait, what?\n\nThat can't be right. You know this because...because...\n\nYou think for awhile-give or take five minutes, but eventually it comes to you.\n\n*You were bitten.*\n\nThere's the answer. It took awhile to come to you, but your mind is as sharp as ever. One of them bit you. The walking corpses that are plaguing this world, killing everything they can get a hold of. Those mindless killing machines that ruined the world.\n\nZombies.\n\n*Wait. This is wrong.*\n\nZombies don't think. Or at least, they shouldn't. The ones your group of survivors encountered were more like simple beasts than any human-even some of the stupider ones you've seen.\n\n*Why are you different?*\n\nYou struggle as you try to remember. While you can still think perfectly fine, your mind is no longer as fast as it once was. Maybe that throbbing in your head is related to it? You gingerly reach up, scraping dirt encrusted nails across your forehead, tearing into your rotten scalp. You idly note that you can't feel pain.\n\nSuddenly, you remember why that throbbing is there. They put the metal object in your head. They did it. The others.\n\nYour fellow survivors.\n\nThey did it because you had been bitten. It was the sensible thing to do, you all agreed. You didn't want to infect them, and they didn't want you infecting anyone else. So, they shot you in the head. Once. No sense in wasting ammunition, after all.\n\nBut you had managed to survive...and what's more, you could think! You could think like a human, yet you had all the benefits of their \"condition\". Zombies never tired, didn't need to sleep, and-so far as anyone knew, didn't *need* to eat. (didn't stop them from doing so, though. Poor Jesse) If you joined up again, you could help them even more. You could save them from the other zombies.\n\nIf only you could speed up your thoughts. Maybe it was the result of the shot to the head? You moan in annoyance. If only you had some way to fix your stupid brain!\n\n*TAKE SOME.*\n\nYou jerk your head up, staring about wildly as you look around for who could have said that.\n\n*TAKE SOME.*\n\nWith a start, you realize that this voice is in your head, apparently telling you to \"Take some.\" But take some what?\n\n*TAKE SOME THOUGHTS.*\n\nYou puzzle out the meaning of this and then realize: it wants you to eat others! You shake your head in disgust-you aren't some undead freak like the others!\n\n*TAKE SOME THOUGHTS TO GET SOME THOUGHTS.*\n\nYou pause, then go over to the window. Down below you can see a survivor-the lone wolf type with plenty of guns.\n\n*No, I shouldn't.*\n\n*TAKE SOME THOUGHTS.*\n\n*Is this what I've become? Another one of them?*\n\n*TAKE SOME THOUGHTS.*\n\n*Besides, he would shoot me before I even reached him. I'd die again if he saw me.*\n\nBut as you shake your head to dissuade yourself from ideas that aren't yours, you happen to glance over at the man again. He is standing underneath your window, in plain sight as he relentlessly mows down the undead on the street.\n\n*DROP SOMETHING.*\n\nYou look in the apartment for something heavy. There! An old TV! Without pausing to think, you lift it and throw it out of the window, almost certainly killing him.\n\nYou quickly run down, eager to get at his thoughts.\n\nThoughts?\n\nIsn't the thing in his head called something else?\n\nYou shake your head-no matter. You just need his thoughts, and then you'll be good as new. Just like before! You'll be back to normal.\n\nHaving reached his corpse, you lick your lips, and begin to dig in.\n\n*TAKE IT ALL.*\n\nYou heed the voice, messily eating everything you can tear off his corpse. Suddenly, you hear a voice.\n\n\"Joe? Are you okay? I stopped hearing yo-OH MY GOD! JOE!\"\n\nShe covered her mouth with both hands as she looked at you. Mouth still full, you turned your head towards her.\n\n*TAKE SOME MORE.*\n\nYes, you needed some more. You didn't have nearly enough thoughts. You needed more. MORE.\n\nYou lunged at her, but she was ready. She brought her handgun up.\n\n*8 mm. Same thing they used. You'll be fine.*\n\nAnd indeed, you were. You aren't sure why-the movies say you wouldn't be moving right now. You don't care.\n\n*TAKE SOME MORE.*\n\n\"Shit, no no no, not like this, please, god, anything but this...\" she sobs as she starts to run. You easily catch her, sending her to the ground. You legs dully ache, the result of you putting more stress than a human would have on them in order to outpace a human. You aren't concerned.\n\nAfter all, you have enough meat here to repair any damage that you would have endured, so why should you be concerned? And after this, well, your fellow survivors can be of use to you in getting more meat. And if they aren't, well...\n\nYou'll just have to take some.\n***\n*Though you claim to be above your condition, \nyou are clearly acclimatized to your transition, \nso shed your humanity, and submit to the disease, \nas you pretend you don't bring others down onto their knees.*"
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[WP] The nose never stops growing, no matter how old you get. You are an immortal man who has lived for centuries
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"Long ago, when my useless body had shriveled to a flake of skin on the back of my enormous nose, before they placed me, alone, in this water tower high above the town--the only prison they had for an abomination like me--I taught myself to hear through scent. It was an imperfect skill, interpreting the aroma of language, but over a hundred or so years, I mastered it.\n\nAnd then I sat, listening and waiting.\n\nI smelled the man enter my chamber. I estimated he was thirty years old, for the perfume of youth was still present in his odor. The man's great-grandparents would have been his age when I was locked up, the same people who took me from my bed in the middle of the night with tears in their eyes as they sealed me in.\n\nHe smelled nervous. I waited, patiently, as I always have. Finally, his breath wafted into my cavernous nostrils, flowering bouquets of halitositic musk: He was speaking.\n\nThe young man went on at length. His speech had been carefully prepared, for his people were decent folk, and I, the indecent monster that had been born amongst them, that had been one of them, deserved, they felt, this long and formal expression of their guilt for what they had to do.\n\nIf only they knew how relieved I was to smell the word \"mercy\". If only I could cry out with the mouth that had long ago withered away: \"Let the waters flow, my friends! Do not feel shame in what you are about to do. The monster forgives you!\"\n\nWhen he was done speaking, I smelled him leave. Then the waters began to rise."
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[WP] "I would stop if i were you." ..
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"I would stop if I were you, \n\nstop caring so much about trivial things.\n\nstop listening to what others think of me.\n\nstop trying to please those who we cannot.\n\nstop loving those who don't love us back.\n\nstop driving towards a life that we don't want.\n\nstop hurting ourselves with lies of 'I'll do it next time'.\n\nstop giving our time to nobodies.\n\nstop believing it will work itself out.\n\nstop ignoring our small wins for larger losses.\n\n... I should start, being more positive."
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https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gFQwn6M1RMc
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[WP] The assassin was sent to kill a good man, to this day it haunts him still.
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"I don't really keep up with current events; I find that the less I know about people, the better. I suppose one has to be a bit misanthropic to go into my line of work. After all, you can't exactly be a people person if you kill people for a living.\n\nThe contracts I had up until this point had been pretty small: A cheating husband here, a bitch of a boss there, etc. This particular contract, however, was a big one: $1,000,000 for a single man. That would be enough money for me to finally get out of the game, enough for me to take Amanda to one of those fancy Swiss clinics. This could be the one that solves all our problems.\n\nSo as I got set up on the roof, I wasn't thinking about WHO I was killing; I was thinking about WHAT I was getting. It was a frame of mind that I had cultivated over the years, as a sort of way of coping with the guilt.\n\nI peered through the scope to find my target: A tall, strapping man wearing a well-cut suit. He was sitting just behind the podium, awaiting his turn to address the crowd. Beside him sat a slim, shapely woman with dark skin and curly dark hair; on her lap was a little girl, a miniature version of the woman, in a pretty green dress.\n\nAs the man got up from his seat, my crosshairs moved with him to the podium. I let him start his little speech before taking a deep breath and-\n\n**click**\n\nThe bullet had hit him through the side of his head, causing his body to go spinning like a dance macabre. I couldn't help but chuckle as I watched everyone scurry away, panicking like ants under a magnifying lens. However, the smile ran away from my face as I watched the new widow clutch her husband's body, sobbing on his chest. I was just about to pull my eye away from the scope when I saw that little girl, now standing up, staring directly at me. Not panicking like the audience. Not weeping like her mother. Just staring at me with an expressionless gaze, almost like she saw where I was.\n\nI quickly stood up and took apart my gun, packing it in a faux guitar case. I couldn't get the little girl out of my head, giving me that unnerving stare. As I rushed my way to the elevator, I tried forgetting about the little girl, about what I just did to her, and about how she knew I was the one who did it. *That's stupid,* I told myself. *No one knows it was you! Why would she know it was you?*\n\nAs I stepped outside the back exit, I could hear the police cars approaching the building. Deciding to cut my losses, I threw my guitar case into the nearby river and began walking briskly into the building next door. Throwing away my gloves into a trash can by the door, I proceeded to the front entrance of the building, where a crowd of people had gathered to watch the police raid the building I had just come out of. I suppressed a smile as I watched them file in, one by one, not knowing that I was just next door.\n\nAs I walked away from the scene of the crime, I passed a department store window with several TVs on display. Another group was watching attentively, like little old ladies in church. Knowing what they were watching, I nevertheless decided to see it for myself.\n\n\"...And we are now getting reports that the police have just entered the Ziggurat Hotel, the suspected vantage point of the assassin. The Ziggurat has been closed for 3 weeks now for renovations. The owners of the Ziggurat have yet to be contacted.\"\n\n\"For those of you just tuning in, we are reporting that Dr. Abel Galán, president of Cervantes Labs, has been assassinated. Dr. Galán was a pioneer in cancer treatment, developing several low-cost alternatives to chemotherapy. He leaves behind his wife, Dr. Mia Galán-Baxter, and his daughter Irene.\"\n\nI felt myself go numb as I saw that little girl's face on the screen. She seemed so happy in the picture they showed, not at all like the hollow husk that stared back at me through my scope. Slowly, I peeled my eyes from my the screen as I walked away from the crowd.\n\n---\n\nI kept my eyes straight ahead as I walked through the hospital corridor, clutching the roses I bought tightly. I could feel their eyes on me: Doctors, nurses, patients, even the janitors. It was impossible for them to know, but I couldn't help but feel like they resented me. Like they knew what I had done just two days ago, what I had taken away from them.\n\nAs I came to room 2103, I took a deep breath. *Don't let her see what you've done,* I tell myself. *Don't let her see what you've taken from her.* Steeling myself, I put on a fake smile before stepping through the door. \"Hey, Mandy,\" I say softly. \"You feeling alright?\"\n\nAmanda looked away from the TV, her face brightening. \"What's the bouquet for?\" she smirked.\n\n\"Well, it's kind of a special occasion,\" I grinned. \"We're going to Switzerland tomorrow night!\"\n\nHer eyes widened in surprise. \"Really?! But I thought that would cost-\"\n\n\"Hey, what can I say? The people on Kickstarter really pulled through!\" I lied.\n\nShe let out a beautiful laugh, the first one I'd heard in years. She pulls me down to kiss her, and for a brief moment, I forgot all about my crime.\n\nWhen we pull apart, her face is flush with emotion, like it was on our wedding day. However, the smile quickly faded away as her eyes slid behind me. I turn around to see that the news is on the TV.\n\n\"Police have yet to find the man responsible for the assassination of Dr. Abel Galán, the pioneer of cancer treatment. ACPD have yet to release any potential suspects, though they have reported that they are following several leads. There will be public funeral at St. Michaels Cathedral this Saturday at noon.\"\n\nAmanda looks at me, worry in her eyes. \"That wouldn't be anyone from work, would it?\" she asks knowingly.\n\nI put on an unconvincing grin. \"Something THAT high-profile? Nah, couldn't be.\"\n\nShe raises an eyebrow at me. \"Then why are you holding those roses so tight?\"\n\nI look down to see that I had the bouquet in a death grip. Loosening my fingers, I could that a rose thorn had stuck itself to my thumb, dripping blood down my hand.",
"\"I have a family!\" Hands bound behind him, on his knees in the light of a single naked bulb, the target said anything that came to mind to prolong his existence. They always did.\n\n\"I know.\" The assassin's voice was as cold and as unmoved as death.\n\nThe target quailed, understanding his meaning. The target--Blake Guzman, 41, senior partner at the law firm of Smith, Smith, Smith, and Rogers. Three children, aged four to ten. Married his childhood sweetheart Alicia. He's good at his job. Made seven figures last year, including bonuses. Everything was going great for him until he took the Doan case and won it. Doan's organization was displeased at Guzman's legal aptitude. So they hired the assassin, who was now watching Guzman's eyes. They darted like hummingbirds on speed. He would attempt to make another bargain any moment.\n\n\"I can pay you more than whoever hired you,\" said Guzman.\n\nThe assassin almost found it funny. Poor people at least knew how to die with dignity. The rich, they always thought they could make a deal. \"No, you can't.\"\n\n\"Are they threatening your family? Is that why you're doing this?\"\n\nThe assassin smiled at that, making Guzman recoil in terror. This Guzman might be a little interesting. It had been quite some time since a target had wondered about the reasons for his visit. \"No. I have not had a family in a long time.\"\n\nGuzman blinked up at him. \"I'm sorry for your loss.\"\n\nHow very interesting. The assassin left the circle of light and returned with two dusty chairs. He set them opposite each other and took Guzman under the arm to hoist him into one, eliciting a grunt of pain from the bound man. He sat in the other chair, as lithe as a cat. A flicker of hope showed on Guzman's face at his suddenly improved circumstances. The assassin said, \"You seem like a good man.\"\n\n\"I give money to charity. I helped build my daughter's school. I buy Girl Scout cookies for the homeless!\" Guzman realized he was babbling and clamped his mouth shut.\n\nThe assassin nodded. He had known all of that, but none of that was proof of goodness, only proof of a rich man avoiding taxes. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. His hands hung loosely. \"You are the first man in years to worry about anyone other than yourself while in a room with me. That is why I think you are a good man.\" The assassin considered him for a long moment, then shrugged minutely. \"I knew another good man once.\"\n\n\"Who--\"\n\n\"I killed him.\" The assassin's flat declaration made Guzman press back into the chair. \"He was much like you, now that I think on it. A pretty wife who he loved very much. Children filling their house with happy noise. A job that filled his soul, if not his wallet.\" The corner of his mouth turned up sardonically. \"Perhaps not *so* much like you, eh? But the most important thing you two good men have in common is that you angered the wrong people. They threatened this other man's family. 'We kill them unless you work for us,' you understand. Unless this man killed someone for them, they would eliminate his family.\"\n\nThe assassin paused to gather his thoughts. Guzman stared wide-eyed, transfixed by the story. \"So, of course, he did it. What else could a good man do but protect his family, even at the expense of another? So he took the photograph and the gun and the knife and he went to the place they told him. He found his target there, together with the target's family. Pretty wife, beautiful children. They were smiling. Happy.\" The assassin's hands rose and fell in a helpless shrug. \"The good man thought of his own family. He approached the target.\n\n\"The target's wife saw him coming. He looked like a good man, so she greeted him. 'Hello,' she said. 'Can we help you with something?' The target turned to look, and the good man put the gun to his head and fired. His blood covered his wife, but she did not scream. Shock is a powerful thing, Mr. Guzman,\" the assassin mused. \"It is often an ally in my line of work. This good man, with the gun hot in his hand and this irrevocable deed spread out before him, turned to leave.\n\n\"The woman started screaming then, and the good man thought, 'if I want to return to my family, I cannot leave a witness.' And he turned back. He raised the gun. He aimed carefully. He fired. The screaming stopped like he'd turned off a switch. He was pleased. He thought of his family. He would wash his hands of what he had done, he would return to them, and they would all be safe.\n\n\"Then... then the little girl said, 'daddy?' and at the same time the little boy said, 'mommy?' And the good man, being a good man, knew that he could not leave these children orphaned by such violence. Causing that sort of pain is not what a good man does.\"\n\nThe assassin turned his hands palms-up and fell silent, gazing down at them. \"As he aimed the gun at that child, that good man felt pleasure. Do you know what that good man learned about himself that day?\"\n\nGuzman made a choking noise.\n\n\"He learned that he was not a good man at all. He entered that place, but I left it.\" The assassin's eyes rose slowly and locked with Guzman's, as hypnotic as a snake. \"You are a good man with a simple choice: you or your family.\" The assassin rose to his feet and circled behind Guzman's chair. The slick sound of a knife leaving its scabbard made him cringe, but the assassin only cut the rope around his wrists.\n\nThe assassin returned to his chair and drew it closer to Guzman until they were sitting barely an arm's length apart. He drew his gun, turned it around, offered it to Guzman.\n\nGuzman took it with a shaking hand. His face twisted in anger and he raised the gun to the assassin's chest.\n\nThe assassin made no move, but Guzman was conscious of the knife held loosely in the man's fist. The assassin only continued to meet his eyes. \"Do you want to learn about yourself today?\"\n\nGuzman read the fatigue in the lines of the assassin's face and saw the old, hard sadness in his eyes. He thought of his family, who would go on missing him as a good man.\n\nGuzman put the gun in his own mouth."
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[WP] When a person dies they are cleared of memory and reincarnated, but the angels in charge of wiping memory forgot to clear yours.
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"\"What the hell\" he thought as he rushed from a warm comfortable place into the bright and climate controlled hospital room. He began crying immediately.... Only it was the sound of an infant crying. Meanwhile at the Office of Reincarnation, and Re-Integration (O.R.R.), Frank had just realized his error. \"GABRIEL, he shouted literally flying down the all white hallway, we did it again, we have an Code Gray\". \n\n\"Again!\" Gabriel yelled back from his mahogany desk loaded with incoming and outgoing files as St. Peter looked on in disdain from the water cooler. \"The last time this happened.....do you remember Pol Pot, Frank?\" \"Yes...\" Frank replied. \"The only thing to do is to authorize the use of Plan Pink\". \"PLAN PINK....Do you actually think it will work?!?!\" Frank answered back. \"We can only hope St. Peter answered joining the two angels in the O.R.R. They never even thought to read the file on Michael McMillian before initiating Plan Pink\n\nMonths later, Michael McMulligan re-christened KeShawn Jones was living a normal life of an infant mildly aggravated at all the baby talk aimed toward him especially from his new \"aunt\" and \"nana\" but received pleasure whenever he made them change multiple diapers as payback. \"Maybe this time around, I can do it right\" Michael-Keshawn thought to himself as he wailed for a 3 am feeding \"This ain't to bad a life.... not to bad at all\". "
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[WP] Ever wondered why time doesn't actually "heal all wounds"? That's because it's a very old spelling error. They were actually referring to Tim.
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"I broke up with my girlfriend of three years. I just don't know what to do with myself. I'm so used to talking to her on a regular basis, going to her house, cooking together and just spending time with her. After going out of state for schooling, we both realized that long distance wasn't really meant for us. It's been six months after that and I'm still not over her. I remember clearly, how her eyes sparkled in the daylight and how they made the sun look dim. I remember how her hair was dark even against the night sky. I remember her skin flawlessly glowed in the moonlight after making love and how warm our bodies felt holding each other afterwards. I'm waiting for time to heal me, yet time is relevant and I have little to no patience for that sort of thing. A few more months pass and I only grew lonelier as time passed. No friends to speak of, none that I was really close with to be honest. None that I could talk to honestly and openly about how I really felt day in and day out. Just constantly thinking of how much of a fool I was for losing a girl like that. A girl that lit a fire I didn't even know I had. A girl that brought me down to Earth not knowing I was in orbit. Other girls didn't make love the same and by the time a year passed I had forgotten how to love a girl for who she was. Most importantly I forgot how to love the flaws of human nature, the intricacies of acceptance and the bliss of finding beauty where others do not. \n\n*That's when I met Tim.* \n\nTim had the personality of a Kickstarter business mogul; all the speaking skills necessary to sell you an idea even though it might have been trash. He was a know-it-all, a one-upper, yet despite all of that he became one of my best friends. It was a new year at University and he had moved out of his home state like me. Even better we were from the same state, just different parts. We had a few classes together, so we ended up working together on a lot of projects and even ended up studying together for some tests. When we did study together, it helped him to pretend he was teaching the class. I'm the kind of person that doesn't know what I don't know until it comes up in conversation which was perfect. I'd ask questions that Tim didn't know and we'd learn together. Eventually we'd make trips to the city an hour away from University and try to find new things, having a blast all the way through. We'd people watch, find weird things in weird places, we even came across a fashion show that appeared out of nowhere. Eventually, as we got to know each other, I opened up to him. Told him how I felt like I was missing a piece of myself after almost a year after breaking up with my girlfriend. \n\n\"Man, fuck her.\" he said to me. \"Just fuck her. You don't need her, you never needed her. She's keeping you in the past, you need to be in the here and now. When you look back years from now, you'll always remember not having as much fun as you could have because you were living with regret. You can move on. It's not a race, it'll happen.\" \n\nIt was the best slap to the face I'd ever received. I'll always remember Tim, because he did what time did not; he made me feel relevant in my own life. ",
"\"Blighter! Scoundrel! Ye will pay!\"\n\nTime knew an unhappy customer when he heard one. He ducked behind the counter moments before a burly man stormed into his shop holding a thick slab of granite.\n\n\"Ye don't think I saw ye? Out, knave!\"\n\n\"Ah, good sire - pardon me, I had just dropped these, er, medicinal herbs, guarant'd to heal alle wounds… say, ye wouldn't happen to need any?\" Time tried a smile and he proffered a pair of grubby hands that cupped what appeared to be dried grass.\n\n\"Damn'd is the man who would fool me twice!\" the man cried as he swatted away Time's hand. The grass billowed up in a cloud and settled on Time's unwashed hair. \"Why, only last week I bought some of this from ye, and it didn't worke!\"\n\nTime shook his head and some grass fell to the floor. \"Mustn't've been me, then.\" He brushed the rest of the grass out of his hair, which landed on his shirt, which was actually an old bag for potatoes. \"My herbs work, sure as day. Many folk selling herb nowadays, must be cautious about these things, though I can't fault a mere commoner for not knowin' better, that's what ye come to me for…\"\n\n\"I bought it from a man who looked like ye, and talked like ye, and he had yer name: Time!\"\n\nTime swept his hand over his shirt and the rest of the grass fell to the floor. He bent over and swept it into a pile with his hands.\n\n\"Ah, but I haven't told ye my name… and er, me name's not 'Time'… it's… er… Tim.\"\n\nThe man grunted. \"Tim? Never 'eard a name like that before.\"\n\n\"It's foreign.\"\n\n\"What's foreign? And what about ye signe?\" The man held up the granite slab that he had walked in with. Letters were chiseled onto the front. The burly man concentrated hard as he read aloud: \"Time's Olde Towne Magicke Shoppe: *Time heales alle woundes*\"\n\nTime shrugged. As he was scooping up the fallen herbs, he noticed a few pieces of grass growing out under the side of his shop. He made sure the burly man wasn't looking, then he plucked them and put it on top of the rest of the pile. He stood up.\n\n\"Let me see that.\" He looked at the slab. \"Ah, that's just a typo. Not my slab anyway, 'course,\" he added hurriedly. \"Lots a folk with slabs nowadays, mustn't be too--\"\n\n\"An' what's typo?\"\n\n\"A typographical error. Look, this gr-- this herb's as fresh as it gets--\" Time pulled his hands away quickly, \"ah, I'll just keep them o'er here if yer interested…\" he pushed away a stack of similar granite slabs to make room for the grass.\n\nThe burly man peered at the stack. \"Hmm, well what have we here! Those slabs are the same as mine! So that means… that means…\" He tried to think about what that might mean.\n\n\"So that means I'm right, aye?\" Time suggested.\n\n\"Aye…\" the man said slowly and scratched his head. Feeling like he was losing control of the conversation, the man jabbed a finger into Time's chest menacingly. \"Well, ye had better just fix those slabs… Tim,\" he said. Time gulped.\n\nAs soon as the burly man left, Time started fixing all of the typos in his signs. But this turned out to be too challenging for two reasons. Firstly, he didn't know which words were actually misspelled, and secondly his teeth still hurt too much from chiseling the letters *in* in the first place to think about what it would take to get them back out again. He decided to settled on packing dirt into all of the E's.\n\nWhen he read the signs again, they said:\n\nTim 's Old Town Magick Shopp : *Tim h al s all wound s*\n\nHe regarded his work with satisfaction. After a few moments, he frowned and went back to dig out the first E in \"heale.\" As he was doing that, the part of his brain shared with *rodentia*'s ancestors suggested leaving in one \"Time\" and one \"Tim,\" just to give himself an out no matter who the person that showed up at his door was upset with. Thus read the new sign:\n\nTim 's Old Town Magick Shopp : *Time heal s all wound s*\n\nBy way of mysteries forgotten to time, and honestly not well known even to Time to begin with, he was able to pass the shop down generation after generation, until subsidiaries spread all over the land, and the slogan became so well known that long after the series of shops went out of business, the saying lived on: *Time heals all wounds*",
"What I'm about to tell you isn't some flowery embellished bullshit. It's the honest-to-god truth. So don't discount me when I say that this is the story of the day I died.\n\nIt's a nice day out. Not a cloud in the sky. Totally blue. I'm driving to the pharmacy (ironic, I know) and I try to take a right at the intersection, when some goddamn idiot runs through the red and nearly hits me. That's not the part where I die, but I promise it will be important later.\n\nSo I make it to the pharmacy and go inside, right? There's maybe 10 people, inside, small store, whatever. Shelves full of medicine and the other kinds of shit pharmacies sell. But I was on my way to refill my prescription, so I head up to the counter.\n\nThere's this old lady -- I think she had blond hair, can't really remember -- and she's chewing on some gum. She was just done serving a big African-American woman. I wait for her to step aside and then I ask for my prescription, I tell her my information, normal stuff, right? She yells for this guy in the back to get the meds and he goes off to get it. This dude looks pretty normal, he's got brown hair cut way back showing his forehead. He's wearing a white collared shirt and khakis, I think. Also his nose is super small, but that's not really important.\n\nBefore he can get back with the meds, I hear shouting from right behind me, by the entrance. So I turn around, right, and guess what I see? Same fucking guy who nearly hit me! But get this: he's holding a gun. Pistol I think. Waving it in the air, *screaming* at us to get something.\n\nOld lady at the counter doesn't say anything. She just stands there. I'm getting about ready to try and bolt but this lady is just steely, so I don't move a muscle. Gun guy comes up the counter, pointing at all the customers to get on the ground. They do, but me and old lady are just standing there, doing nothing! I have no fucking idea where dude in white was, but gun guy shoves the pistol in my face telling me to step aside so he can get drugs from the old lady.\n\nI don't move. I'm staring straight at him, so I don't know what the lady was doing, but something set gun guy off, because he just shouts and knocks me in the head with his gun. I fall down, but I'm still conscious. A bit dazed maybe. I'm on my elbows and looking up at gun guy, who's holding the pistol way out in front of him like some sort of lunatic. I guess he was.\n\nFinally, the old lady speaks. I don't remember what gun guy said, but she goes, \"Sir I need you to calm down before I can serve you.\" Like, fucking what? She's held at gunpoint being yelled at to give some psycho drugs and she tells him to calm down? Good thing gun guy doesn't care, and he doesn't shoot her. But then I hear a man's voice. And I just *know* it's the dude in white.\n\nAnd gun guy gets *pissed.*\n\nHe starts shouting like nothing else and waving the gun around. I've recovered my senses at this point, but I don't move because there's a guy with a pistol, right? I'm looking around, and I make eye contact with another customer. It's the African-American woman, crouched down behind a shelf. She gestures to the gun guy and I'm mouthing, \"FUCK NO\". But she insists and her feet start moving.\n\nAt this point it's all or nothing and there's a clear line of communication between me and this other customer. So I just go for it. I jump on gun guy and the lady runs towards him, but he shoots off a few bullets so she stops. Old lady at the counter is still just standing there, and I guess dude in white is there too, but I can't see him on account of me wrestling with gun guy.\n\nHe keeps firing and eventually throws me off him. I can't hear anything because of all the gunshots but even with the adrenaline, I can feel this kinda cold, wet sensation. Everywhere. Gun guy is facing me, and even though I can't hear, I know he's shooting me because of the flashes of the pistol and the faces of the other people.\n\nI fall down and I don't know what happens next because all I can see is the ceiling, but suddenly dude in white is standing over me. I can barely make out his words and I'm too dazed to read his lips. Seems like gun guy is dealt with.\n\nAfter what seems like an hour, I can start to hear again. Dude in white is kneeling over me with his hands on my chest. I can't tell if he's doing CPR because I can't feel anything, but when I lift my head I notice his hands are just held there over my heart. Lifting my head was a bad idea because then I start to feel the pain. Or maybe it was seeing all the blood. Let's just say the floor wasn't red when I came into the pharmacy.\n\nSo dude in white is talking and I start to hear him even though I'm screaming now, out of pain. His voice is kinda soft but firm, you know? Like he's giving me commands. And he's saying, \"Hold still. Lay your head back down. Hold still. Try to keep your breathing steady.\"\n\nI'm trying to sputter out some words, maybe I wanted to ask him something, but I just can't. Gun guy put a bullet in my throat.\n\nI can hear alright now, and things are a tiny bit calmer. I can feel -- which is not a good thing -- but at least I know what he is saying.\n\n\"My name is Tim. I am going to heal you. Hold still. Lay your head back down and relax.\"\n\nI listen and do what he says as much as I can. The ceiling has holes in it and I focus on those holes. There's dust coming down but it doesn't get in my eyes, and the holes get bigger. And brighter. As they get closer -- or maybe I'm getting closer -- they start to turn white, but not just piece-of-paper white. More like, sun-on-a-cloudy-day white. Then Tim enters my vision again and I forget about the holes.\n\nI'm still raised up, and it still feels cold and wet. But Tim doesn't seem worried. I feel like I'm floating, painless. I lift my head and it doesn't hurt, but Tim tries to lay me back down. Before he can, I notice that some guy in a blue uniform is standing at my feet. Except my feet are at the height of his waist, and I'm laying on something. The man in blue is talking to somebody behind me.\n\nThe ceiling starts to move downward. The pharmacy disappears and the threshold vanishes and then I see blue sky. Tim is still running alongside me as I float away from the pharmacy, with his hands on my chest. There isn't any more pain, but I feel sorta numb. The ceiling turns white and there are bright lights. I stop floating and I set down on a bed or something, with Tim and the two guys in blue standing over me.\n\nMy mind is really slow and I can't quite process what's going on, but I start to piece together that I'm in an ambulance. So then I wonder, well why aren't they doing anything? I was just shot a bunch of times, so why aren't they picking out bullets with tweezers or something? Instead they're just talking and occasionally glancing down at me in disbelief. Tim looks alright though, his jaw isn't on the floor.\n\nThis goes on for a few more minutes, but I can't really remember much. Eventually I end up staring at a blank white ceiling with bright lights on it, but I'm not moving like I was in the ambulance. Also, the bed I'm in is comfortable and I feel warm. It smells sterilized and there's a steady beeping to my right.\n\nI try to lift myself up and I do so without resistance. I don't feel any pain but I'm not numb either. I feel fine. And, of course, Tim is sitting in a chair to my left watching me intently. For once he's not saying anything. There's just the beeping, and I can make out some distance voices and movement.\n\nSo I say to him, \"Who are you?\"\n\nHe opens him mouth but his eyes don't change at all. \"I'm Tim.\"\n\n\"You saved me?\"\n\n\"Yes. I said I would.\"\n\nI lay back down, exhaling a sigh. \"Thanks, then.\"\n\nNaturally I can't see Tim's expression but I assume it doesn't change. I look back up and he's still sitting there, staring.\n\n\"Why are you staring at me?\"\n\n\"You aren't going to ask how I saved you?\"\n\n\"Alright, sure. Why'd you save me?\"\n\n\"No, I said 'how'. To answer your question, though, I might say it's my duty as a man of medicine.\"\n\n\"You were at the pharmacy. You were going to get my prescription.\"\n\n\"Yes. Also, don't worry; the doctors know about it and have you set with your medicine.\" Tim looks at his watch and nods. \"In fact, it's right about the time you take them. I'll be going.\"\n\n\"Hey, wait!\"\n\nTim turns around. \"Yes?\"\n\n\"The only medicine I'm getting is my normal prescription?\"\n\n\"Correct.\"\n\n\"Nothing for the bullet wounds?\"\n\n\"What bullet wounds?\"\n\nIn disbelief, I shove away my blankets. My body is totally clean, without a trace of blood or even bandages. The only thing out of place is an IV drip, probably what knocked me out. When I look back up, Tim is just gone. A few moments later, some nurses come in with orange bottles.\n\n\"Time for your meds,\" says one, setting down the pills.\n\n\"Why did you take off your sheets?\" asks the other. \"Are you too warm?\"\n\nI shake my head, still staring in disbelief. I turn to the second nurse, who is tidying up the blankets. \"Who was that man just in here?\"\n\n\"Who? Oh, Tim? He's the man who saved you. You should be very grateful.\"\n\n\"I am, but I don't understand how anyone could be saved from that. I must've been shot like 20 times.\"\n\n\"You were. And you were saved.\"\n\n\"But who *is* he?\"\n\n\"He's Tim.\"\n\n\"Alright, I get that. But how did he heal my wounds?\"\n\n\"Tim heals all wounds.\""
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[WP] Choose the most boring topic you can think of and make it exciting.
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"Sitting down at my desk, I realise I'm a full five minutes early.\n\n\nUnion Rule #1. Don't work until it's time to work.\n\n\nThrowing the jacket over the chair, I rushed over to the kettle. It was rush hour, and I *had* to beat Edith. Most senior, the eldest woman, the most senile woman you will ever meet that hasn't retired. In fact, the company made an entire plan around getting more \"tenured\" members of staff to leave that solely because of her. She's still here, but not due to lack of effort on the company's part.\n\n\nReaching the kettle, I realise that it's union friday. Half the employees are off on a union training day! Half the office is gone and now I can have morning tea in peace.\n\n\nFilling my cup up quickly, I rush back to work. I have one minute before I start my work. Logging into my workstation, the minute passes and my screen opens up. As my manager walks past, he raises an eyebrow, eyeing the cup of tea with a good morning nod. I am safe.\n\n\nA few clicks here, another few clicks on the screen, a tippity tappity millennial magic works the keyboard, fingers flying across the black Logitech board. The alphabet scattered in an erratic way, but my fingers know the map to Grammar.\n\n\n*File Case AC1101-223-441 - Liability Resolution Action*\n\n\nThis is a sync. Two motor vehicle accident, simple rear end action I'm not giving, I'm slapping a Full Liability on that bad boy.\n\n\n\nThe next one is trickier. Left turn, but the arsehole ran a red? Showing due caution, prudent manner of driving, clean record. I'll give the gal a break, Full Liability to that red runner.\n\n\nThe morning goes quickly with small tasks here and there. Lunch time is nearly arrived, the morning is nearly completed. The day will soon be mine as the Afternoon beast takes the office by forcing a coma on the office. Or half of us that are working.\n\n\nBut then it hits.\n\n\n*Action: Settlement Dispute*\n\n\nMy worst nightmare. Insurance company client is denying liability, potentially going to court. File screams bull on the defendant. Everything on the page says run away.\n\n\nBut I stay.\n\n\nI wade through the crap, I wade through the exaggerated claims, the excuses, the fantastical ideals that the amber light was green then immediately red. But then something comes into my inbox. It's my manager. He wants to review my files.\n\n\nI need to get this done.\n\n\nClicking through documents, I look for every shred of evidence to prove she is in breach of the law, the road rules. Legal documents, expert reports, mechanical estimates, nothing. No collateral, no accepted testimony. The only witness has dementia, his statement is rejected. The attending police officer is away on vacation, no go there. The only hope is the only unread attachment.\n\n\nIt's dashcam video. The light is red.\n\n\nMy fist hits air, but that's all the defendant has. Hot air. We're not paying a *dime*.\n\n\nMy eyes catch the changing of the guard, the moment that the twin 1's go up. It's union lunch time.\n",
"Neurons fire all around the room, as un-static as anything else in the universe. The room both vast beyond comprehension, and an unimportant speck, depending on the perspective you looked at it from. Made up of countless atoms, themselves a dynamic field, made up of electrons orbiting a nucleus, leaving empty space that only offered more questions than it answered. One of many rooms like it in the country, the world, potentially the universe. Small on Earth, which itself is small in the context of the universe. Earth in a solar system, one of many in a galaxy, one of the hundreds of billions of galaxies in the universe, all made up of those atoms, making empty space the obvious design motif in the grand scheme. \n\nThe room uses mathematics, the backbone of the logical universe, as its guide. Math has not been shown to be inconsistent anywhere in the universe, and it wasn't about to be in this room. The numbers an indifferent sideshow, something ever present as you stay stationary in the room, finding your own place in the universe.\n\nYou are not alone in the room. The others are on journeys much like your own, stationary. Walking the line between incomprehensible hugeness and depressing insignificance. Trying to find there place in the room, the universe. Some leave, taken away by happenstance, others find ways to distract themselves, an attractive endeavor. You have nothing to distract yourself with, you are in here, you did not ask to be, you simply are. \n\nThe light is shining on you uncomfortably. You cannot find your place in the room, or the universe. You could move, it is within your motor function to move your legs, but what would that look like? What would others think if you moved closer to them, or farther away? What if nowhere else in the room is any better? So you stay still, comfortable at least in your uncomfortableness. \n\nEventually your number is called, your happenstance has happened. It is time. Your time is up at the department of motor vehicles. "
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[WP] Finding a spouse is the job of women. And they perform this task as though they are going to war.
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"\"Here you go,\" Axel says before flashing me his thousand-watt braced smile. \n\n\nI reach for my usual caramel frappe and lightly brush my fingers against his. \n\n\n\"Hope you enjoy it.\" \n\n\n\"Always have,\" I reply and return his smile. \n\n\nI seat across the claiming area, not exactly leaving his line of vision. This was how I began my everyday. I would visit this local Starbucks store during mornings, catching Axel on his shift. \n\n\nI always catch him on his shift. \n\n\nI have to. \n\n\nI watch his muscled yet lean figure standing inside the booth. He was tall but he wasn't lanky. I watch his broad shoulders and trace them down to his long and nimble fingers. He was preparing coffee like it was the most easiest thing in the world. \n\n\n\nHe looks up and meets my gaze; he holds it while I fight the urge to surrender to the familiar tug of a smile on my lips. He looks down, continuing what he was doing. \n\n\n\nI smile. \n\n\n\nI momentarily look away, distracted by the sound of chair being scraped against the floor. A woman shares my table and I don't bother telling her off because I knew her too well. \n\n\n\n\"You know you have a deadline right?\" my superior asks.\n\n\n\n\"Yes, it's only a matter of time anyway,\" I reply. \n\n\n\n\"Show me what you've got,\" she taunts as she leans on the table. \n\n\n\nShe once offered my colleague to take over this assignment since I was working too slow. I refused. I wanted this. I wanted Axel. So she gave me deadline or else I was going to be assigned to someone else and I didn't want that. \n\n\n\nI reach into my inner coat pocket to get my weapon. I even winked at the surveillance camera at the corner of the room. I can already feel it. It had pointed edges so if ever I moved hastily I could get cut. \n\n\n\n\"Shit... I got a papercut,\" I curse and proceeded to fully remove my index card from my inner coat pocket. \n\n\n\n\"Let me read,\" she says as she snatches up my weapon from my hands. \n\n\n\nPick-up lines written on an index card was my weapon. It was my specialty. I even had special trainings with a language trainor in the academy before so that I could supposedly sharpen this special skill of mine among others.\n\n\n\nI wasn't like my superior. My superior had already 12 years on the job and she was already reaping the fruits of her labor. She was on the 4th phase: she was pregnant. In about 9 months, she would retire enjoying the 5th and final phase of the job – being a mom. I was only on the 1st phase: getting a boyfriend. \n\n\n\nShe was blessed with all the weapons women could possibly use on men. She has long legs, an ample chest, a toned butt, porcelain skin, and a sultry voice. She even has fast metabolism meaning she couldn't get fat even if she wanted too. She was a natural; whereas I had to exercise to get sexy, had to visit the dermatologist to become flawless, and had to rely on my skills to have a man. \n\n\n\nI was lucky no one else got assigned to Axel or else I would have to eradicate all competition no matter the method. I just had to have him. \n\n\n\n\"These are good, huh. I might even get you as a language coach if we'll have a daughter,\" she jokes and returns the paper. \n\n\nI take deep breaths. \n\n\n\n\"You have 20 minutes to get a date, a month to get a boyfriend,\" she reminds me as I leave the table, weapon in hand. \n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n"
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[WP] Every time you read a book you inherit an ability from one of the characters. But it's random so you could gain qualities from any of the characters including antagonists.
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"A fan of books since childhood, I wasn’t that picky of a reader. All sorts of literature passed through my hands - from cheap romances, to Ian McEwans critically acclaimed novels, to classics like “Crime and Punishment”. And like so many other people, I too identified with the characters, living through their adventures as vividly as they did.\n\nHowever, I used to take it a step further, especially when I was younger. I’d try to make myself more like the characters I liked in the real world too, usually by mimicking their physical appearance, since that was easiest. If a character's braid and ribbons were described in detail, I’d try to wear my hair exactly the same way the next day. If they used pink lipstick, I’d do that too. Wore dresses? My jeans would be exchanged for those in an instant. But it never lasted, though.\n\nMy teenage years were mostly filled with books, and I probably did all this to try to lure adventures and friends to come to me too. When I started forming more meaningful relationships with real people later on, the need to imitate fictional characters stopped. Not my love of books, though. They were now a supplement to my own experiences, not a replacement. That was something I was happy with, until it started happening.\n\nThe “it” I mentioned first happened while reading one of those romance novels where a dark, handsome, quiet man meet a strong and independent woman in some past setting where strong, independent and passionate women weren’t universally liked. He likes her, though, but for the most of the novel nothing happens, though they usually make a pact to marry in order to achieve a mutual goal. That is until a sex scene happens, with that usually being her first time. And so on. Out of all that, I got the hornyness. It literally infected me while reading through the scene, and it stayed with me for days, constantly. Don’t ask how it ended. It was difficult to believe that the book could have had such an effect on me, but that was the only explanation. I still wasn’t sure that the traits and experiences of a character could at all be transferred to me, and I still thought there might be something I was overlooking, but that was soon to change.\n\nI read “The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes” next. That one was amazing - I got his photographic memory. I could learn whatever I wanted in as short a time as needed to read about it. I had always been envious of people with photographic memory who didn’t much need Google to check a fact they’ve already seen so many times before, or to see how words are spelled or look for that synonym they once heard someone use. I thought about never reading another book again, just to keep this ability. I figured if I read something else, I’d get a different ability, but I’d lose this one. It vanished two weeks later, completely on its own. I was devastated, and felt stupid, to say the least. I knew it was all about memory, not intelligence, but it took a while for me to adapt to not having this ability anymore.\n\nI wasn’t sure whether I wanted to experience more of this, or whether I will at all experience it ever again. I decided on a light read while I was still processing what had happened, one I thought couldn’t possibly affect me. Surely it wasn’t possible for me to pick up animal traits. So I started reading “The Hundred and One Dalmatians” by Dodie Smith.\n\nIt seemed to have no effect on me whatsoever. I was well into the book when my cat, Mr. Pawsies, jumped into my living room through the open window.\n\n“Hi, Mr. Pawsies! Long time no see. Come!”\n\nHe jumped right onto my lap, and I started petting him, scratching him behind the ears and on his belly, and he was purring and kneading happily. Then a thought came up.\n\n*Such a fine and soft fur… It would make for a lovely coat. I can already feel it hugging my body, soft and soothing…*\n\nI jumped from the sofa as if a needle was stuck into my behind at that very moment. I grabbed Mr. Pawsies and ran to a neighbour to ask her if she could take care of him for a few days...",
"My name's Judith and I am special.\n\nI know what you think \"oh no... Another special snowflake\", and I know that because I can hear your thoughts, that is what makes me special. Actually, every time I read a book or a comics, I get a special ability of one of the characters, but it is so random that sometimes I don't even realize I acquired the ability.\n\nIt all started a few years ago, I was a big reader back in the days, the least I could read in a month was 2 books, so I'm not sure which book started everything.\n\nThe first ability I discovered I had came from a book called \"gnome of troy\" and unfortunately it was the ability to fart from your ears. That's a rather annoying ability but for my own decency, I won't expand the subject.\n\nI continued to read books though, mostly slice of life ones, so the ability were common and unnoticed. But after a while I tried to read Harry Potter! I was dying of impatience to discover what ability I could gain, and it appeared soon after the reading: I could talk to snakes! Said like that, it's kind of showing off but the reality is boring, because when you live in a big city, you don't see snakes. I could have gained teleportation, mind reading or metamorphosis but no, snake talking, disappointing.\n\nAfter this experience I chose my books with much precaution, reducing the risk of getting an unwanted power. The books became more and more specific, even if the stories were not entertaining.\n\nI gained telepathy from the youth of Jean Grey, I learned hacking from a manga called bloody Monday and a lot more from other books, comics and mangas.\n\nWhy am I telling you that? Well, let's say I am doing the villain's monologue, because, citizens of Earth, from this day and forever, I declare myself your new God and I won't suffer disobeying.\n\nAccept your fate or die. You have 48 hours.",
"They'd gathered for poker in Dave's kitchen, the glow of a steamy summer day dimming to dusk outside. A mild breeze whispered through the screen door, helped along by a small fan that clicked on every second rotation and did nothing to cool the room.\n\n\"Dave, when are you getting your aircon fixed, man?\" Pete stripped off his shirt and used it to wipe his face.\n\n\"Ben said he'd come this morning, but when I rang him he just mumbled something and hung up.\" Dave shrugged, pulling beers from the fridge and handing them around. The pop and hiss of bottle caps was followed by satisfied sighs. \"He's supposed to be here, if Cheryl ever lets him out of the house,\" he continued with a good natured sneer.\n\nThey all laughed, the four of them, with combined derision and amusement. Cheryl's determination to keep Ben under her wifely thumb had long been a source of amusement for his terminally single buddies.\n\nAt that moment a figure loomed at the kitchen door, silhouetted by the porch light. There was a pause, and then a man in jeans and a hoodie, his face concealed, slapped the door open and walked into the kitchen.\n\n\"Ben?\" Sam frowned. \"Dude, what's with the hoodie?\"\n\nA strangely pale hand reached up and slowly drew the hood back.\n\nFour men burst into hysterical laughter.\n\n\"Been playing dress ups, princess?\"\n\n\"Decided to become a stripper now, sweetheart?\"\n\nBen, his face a study in misery, looked at them in desperation. \"How do I get it off?\"\n\nTheir laughter faded as rapidly as it had come. Matt braced his arms on the table, idly shuffling the deck of cards. \"It's just body glitter, mate. Like the strippers wear. Soap should do it.\"\n\n\"You don't understand! I tried it! I tried everything!\"\n\nBen reached over his back and ripped his top completely off. His naked torso was snowy white and seemed to sparkle beneath the kitchen light.\n\nOnce again, hilarity reigned.\n\n\"SHUT UP!\" Ben dropped into his chair at the table, and thumped his fisted hands on the top. \"I can't get it off! I don't even know where it came from!\"\n\n\"Maybe Cheryl found a new way to keep you home,\" offered Pete with a cheeky grin.\n\n\"The body glitter method,\" suggested Dave.\n\n\"I bet she saw it on Oprah,\" added Matt, sniggering into his beer.\n\nBen folded his sparkling arms and dropped his head on to them.\n\n\"Look,\" said Sam, clapping a friendly hand on his shoulder. \"Holy shit, you're like ice!\" He snatched his hand back, then slowly put it back. \"Man, that ain't normal. What were you doing when it happened?\"\n\nBen mumbled something, his ears turning pink.\n\n\"What?\"\n\nBen lifted his head. \"I happened to knock one of Cheryl's books on the floor, and when I picked it up, I read a bit of it. Suddenly.....this happened.\"\n\n\"What book, mate?\"\n\nA deeper shade of pink slid up his neck. \"Twilight.\"\n\nA stunned silence froze the room.\n\n\"Wait, I get it!\" said Matt. \"My sister told me about it! Sparkly vampires!\"\n\nPete peered at Ben closely. \"Vampire?\"\n\nBen shook his head. \"Just cold. And-and sparkles.\"\n\nAnd then the laughter could not be contained. Chairs tipped, tears flowed, and Ben sat miserably as his friends exorcised their amusement.\n\nWhen it began to wind down, Ben sighed and reached for the unopened beer in front of him. Before their fascinated eyes, frost crackled up the glass bottle, the beer began to swell, and in thirty seconds, it exploded in his hand.\n\nDave leaned over and held out his half full bottle. Obligingly, Ben touched the side, then Dave pulled his frosty beer back and took a swig.\n\n\"Ben. Mate. You're about to be a legend.\"\n\n\"Forget the beer, how do I admit to people that I fucking sparkle?\"\n\nSam wrapped a companionable arm around his shoulder, not flinching at the cold this time.\n\n\"Man, I'd be more worried about admitting you read Twilight.\"",
"\"Larry, what the fuck do you mean you're a dragon?\" Reina asked me over the phone. \"Are you high?\"\n\nIf only I was. \"Listen, Reina, just come over! I need your help right NOW!!\" I told her. The last word came out as a roar, fire streaming from my mouth and burning down my precious curtains. \"Reina!\" I shouted into the phone one more time before stamping over it, my claws pressing into my marble floor. \n\nI tried to put out the fire on the curtains by grabbing at them, but all I did was rip out my curtains. The fire spread to my couch and then my rug. With a cry I leaped on to the fire. It didn't hurt me of course, but the sight of watching my rug get seared broke my dragon heart. \n\nI rolled over the fire, extinguishing it along with my precious home decor. Someone would have to pay for this. Anyone. I roared again. And fire streamed out of my mouth. Again. \n\n\"Damnit!\" I shouted, and jumped on the fire before it could get to my plasma screen. The TV stirred in its mount as my gigantic body rolled around on the floor. I watched the TV as it stabilised, breathing a sigh of relief. \n\n\"What the fuck happened?\" Reina asked as she burst through the door. Her jaw dropped as she saw me. \"Holy shit, you're a dragon.\" \n\n\"I told you!\"\n\nEyes wide, she slowly took a seat on my burned couch. \"How?\"\n\n\"I don't know. The last thing I remember was reading *The Hobbit* and then I just turned into *this*.\" I pointed at my scaly red body, my wings flapping up in anger.\n\n\"Can you fly?\" she asked, smiling. \n\n\"Reina, we need to fix me. I want to be human again!\" \n\nShe stood up, gesturing me to lean toward. \"Don't you realise how much money we can make off this? You are the world's first dragon, Larry. People would kill to see you!\" \n\n\"I don't want money. What would I do with it?\" \n\n\"Buy a new home for starters,\" she said, grimacing as she looked around the wreckage.\n\n\"Wait!\" I said, thinking. \"I could buy a new rug! And a new couch!\" \n\n\"Hell yeah you can!\" she chirped. \"Now, let's get the fuck out of here and fly!\" \n\n\"Fuck yeah!\" \n\nShe climbed on my back, holding my neck tightly. \n\n\"Wait, how do we get out?\" I asked. \n\n\"Where's your balcony? We'll have to smash through to fit you in.\"\n\n\"No...not my balcony.\" \n\n\"We will buy you a new one.\"\n\n\"..Fine!\" \n\nI crawled around my house carefully until I made it to the balcony. Reluctantly, I crushed the glass doors and parts of the walls with my invincible claws, and leaped off. My wings caught the wind effortlessly, and Reina and I soared high into the sky. We flew, and we flew, towards a life riddled with gold. \n\n__________________________________________________________________\n\nFree gold if you subscribe to [r/JasonHolloway](https://www.reddit.com/r/JasonHolloway/). I am a ~~liar~~ writer."
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[WP] Since birth, you've had the ability to detect the happiest person in any room, marked by a bright light only visible to you. You are at your grandmother's funeral, and you see an orange glow coming from your grandfather.
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"After the service I went up to him. He was dabbing the tears from his eyes. Or at least that's how it looked from a distance. Upon closer inspection, however, he seemed just to be going through the motions. There were no tears in his eyes, and there was no moisture on his handkerchief. \n\n\"So Gramps,\" I said. \n\n\"Yes, John, my sweet grandson? Thank you for coming. This is a hard day for me especially, but I know it is hard for you too, for everyone. I appreciate your presence here today.\"\n\n\"Right, yes, for sure,\" I said, looking around at the crowd of people confabulating with their heads bowed, in low voices. I wanted to see if the light had transferred to one of them. I looked back at my grandfather. The light still shined through his face. He was definitely the happiest person here. But why?\n\n\"So how are you feeling?\" I asked. \n\n\"Oh fine,\" he said cheerily. Then he backtracked and put on a saddened countenance. \"I mean, I'm trying to deal with it as best as I can. As are we all.\"\n\n\"Right,\" I said. \n\nSomething was up. But how could I get him to spill his secret, and did I even really want to know what it was?\n\nHe put his hand on my shoulder.\n\n\"Things are going to be a lot different now,\" he said absentmindedly. \"For all of us. But especially for your grandmother and I.\"\n\nI looked at him confusedly.\n\n\"I mean,\" he stammered, \"of course it will be different for her. Because she is dead. In heaven it will be much different than here on Earth. As they say, the Kingdom of God is wonderful, and filled with..such sights as...\"\n\nHe trailed off. \n\n\"And what will you do with your time dearest and eldest patriarch of our clan?\" I asked.\n\n\"Hunt ducks,\" he said flatly. \n\n\"Where do you think the dead go?\" I asked him.\n\n\"Heaven,\" he said. He was getting irritated. \n\n\"The heaven of the bible?\"\n\n\"Don't make me take out my belt, boy,\" he said, threateningly. He looked coldly into my eyes. But by the glow of his face I could tell he was still the happiest person in the room. \"This isn't the time to bother your old grandfather about metaphysical questions regarding the Scripture. This is a time to mourn your grandmother, to whom you owe everything.\"\n\n\"Are you in mourning?\" I asked him. \n\n\"You little weasel,\" he said, undoing his belt. \"You little ruffian. Am I in morning? I'll teach you manners.\"\n\n\"Dad!\" shouted my mom, running over. Everyone was watching the geriatric widower tremble and fumble with his belt buckle. \"What's going on?\" she asked. \"Everyone's watching.\"\n\nGrandpa looked up and around at all the people, silent, watching him. He smiled awkwardly and took his hands from his belt.\n\n\"Did you tell them?\" he asked me through the corner of his mouth.\n\n\"Tell them what?\" I said, but cockily, as if I knew exactly what he was talking about.\n\nA dark spot bloomed on his pants. One of the children in the multitude pointed at it and said: \"Look, he peed.\" The whole congregation started laughing at him. The old man looked down at his pants and saw that he had indeed micturated involuntarily. \n\n\"I'll string you up like a rabbit, boy,\" he whispered in my ear. Then he left the room of redoubling, raucous laughter. \n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n",
"\"You don't know how much I miss you, Ethel,\" he sighed, his eulogy coming to a close. \"But I know how much pain you were in. I'll miss you, my darling, but I'll be with you soon, and we really will dance among the stars. Have fun up there, and keep my seat warm.\" ",
"\"Grandpa?\" I joined him at the casket and searched his face. He leaned heavily on his cane, but his expression was peaceful and lit from within by the light only I could see: he was the happiest person in the room.\n\n\"Amy, my dear, it's good to see you.\" His eyes left the casket and Grandma's body to cut over to mine. \"You must be wondering why I'm happy.\"\n\nGrandpa knew, of course he knew. When I was little, he had been the first person to believe me when I said what I could see. \"Yeah, I am.\"\n\nHis gaze settled back on Grandma's face, and he leaned both hands on his cane. He sighed. \"I'm glad you were too busy to visit before she died.\" I winced--the guilt had been stinging me since I'd received word. Grandpa smiled sadly at my reaction, his eyes never moving. \"I'm glad,\" he repeated firmly. \"It was awful. Just awful. The pain she was in. She wasn't even my Marigold anymore. She was a wounded animal.\" He lifted a hand to swipe at the tears welling in his eyes. \"No one should have to live in that state, and no one should have to see what she'd become. She wouldn't have wanted you to have that memory, Amy.\"\n\nI stepped closer and hugged him.\n\nHe leaned into me, one wiry arm going around my back. He cleared his throat before he could speak. \"At the end, at the very end, when her body was finally giving up, one of the things it gave up on must have been pain.\" He fell silent, and I could feel his ribs and back moving convulsively. I couldn't tell whether he was laughing or crying. \"She came back to me, Amy. For the last little moment, she was back. She looked right at me and smiled. And then she was gone.\"\n\nHe pushed me to arm's length and locked eyes with me. \"She finally escaped the pain, Amy. And I couldn't be happier.\""
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[WP] In the crowded streets of New York City you slip through groups of people slipping useless junk in their pockets. You are known as the "putpocket."
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"You always had the gift of knowing what people needed at just the right time, like when your mum was looking for her glasses you could put them into her arm's reach or when dad had lost his car keys, you were always stood at the front door with them in your hand grinning.\n\nIt occurred later that, it wasn't normal or *right* to always know this and as you hit the teens you let the talent fade.\n\n\nBut not die.\n\n\nThe woman was pawing through her purse, desperate for some change for the parking meter, knowing that if she got a ticket there was no way in hell she could pay this month.\n\nYou saw this all in a flash as you walked past, you had already put a hand into the pocket of your jeans, already had the coins in there curled up in your palm. Passing like a breeze, the coins slid from the hand into her coat pocket, where in the ladies frantic search, she heard the sound of metal on metal. Looking confused she pulls the coins out and slots them into the meter relieved that at least *something* has gone right today.\n\n\nYou continued walking up the street, it occurred to you that the talent was *right*.\n\n\nAnd you wont let it die. ",
"--note: I kinda spun the prompt + set it in London, but hope it's entertaining nonetheless-- \n\n\n“Any bloke wif’ fingers can slip a cell phone out a man’s trousers, or pinch a purse off the shoulder of a tourist. In’t that right, chaps?” The boss grinned at his accomplices, two thin and scraggly teens, faces smudged in the soot that blankets everything here in the south end of London. They snickered in agreement, looking back at me, clearly sensing my discomfort. \n\n\n“But it takes true skill to put somepin’ in they pockets. Somepin’ that don’t belong there …” his voice trailed off as he rolled up his sleeves and took two steps toward me. \n\n\nI knew what was coming, and glanced around the slap-board shack, towards the wooden table in the corner that was piled with pilfered goods stolen from the gentry of the nearby shopping district: wallets, watches, backpacks, iPhones, purses, even one overly large and luxurious fur coat. The initiation rite of this gang of pickpockets was well-known in the London underground, a task that was specifically designed to get new members caught, to test their resourcefulness and ability to evade the police. I would be asked to place a large, heavy, or misshapen object into a victim’s pocket. \n\n\nI’d heard the object in question was different for every initiate: some were given uncomfortably heavy rocks, others large library books or bags of potting soil. My mate Fin swears he was asked to deposit a two week old infant into the shopping bag of an old lady, but that boy would lie to the pope if it meant he could get another swig of wine at communion. I had my guesses about what they’d ask me to use—my bet was on a candelabra the gang leader kept on the table, a giant silvery piece, practically the size of a small tree, each of its thirty-four delicate branches designed to hold a single candle. It was undoubtedly stolen. \n\n\n“We’ve got a special one for you, don’t we, chaps?” He looked back at the teens, who laughed perfectly on cue, which seemed to please him. “Yes, somepin’ very special.”\n\n\nHe reached into the breast pocket of his dirty vest and pulled something out. Something small. I glanced at the candelabra, and back to the boss.\n\n\n“This righ’ here, this is a deck of cards.” He tossed it to me for my inspection. It was a deck of cards, all right. I looked back at him, quizzically. He grinned and walked me out of shack into the crisp London air. It smelled of rubbish and factory. \n\n\n“You know how politicians always goin’ on ‘bout how this neighbor’ood is gentrifyin’?” he asked, rhetorically, as we paced down the cobblestone streets towards a row of boutique shops and cafes. \n\n\n“Uhhh, yea?” I replied, trying to follow his logic. \n\n\n“Well, wif all the new vegan coffee shops and yoga studios poppin’ up, I’ve been thinkin, been thinkin bout somepin specific for you to do.” We stopped outside a large yoga studio, Moon & Sun, whose front wall featured an enormous window with a view directly into the studio itself. Rows of women in tight yoga pants were twisting in unison to the beat of the instructor, wrapping themselves into poses with varying levels of effort and discomfort, eyes closed, brightly colored rubber mats unfurled like prayer rugs on the bamboo floor. The boss was known for frequenting this corner, for looking into the window longingly at the long legs of the practitioners as they cycled through sun salutations. He pointed to a girl at the back of the class. \n\n\n“That one. That one there—you’re gonna put this deck of cards in ‘er pocket.” \n\n\nI squinted at her. She was tall, blonde ponytail, face puckered into an expression of concentration as she arched her back. She was exactly the sort who you could imagine carrying a Starbucks drink in her right hand, iPhone in the left. Exactly the sort of girl the boss would ogle at in her loose blue top and black nylon yoga pants. Yoga pants. Yoga pants with no pockets. Yoga pants so tight they looked like they had been painted on. It dawned on me. \n\n\n“Boss, she hasn’t got any pockets,” I said, feebly. \n\n\n“I know, boy-o. I know she don’t,” he grinned, following her with his eyes as she whispered namaste in unison with the rest of the class and rolled up her mat. “That’s why this is gonna be entertaining.” I looked down at the deck of cards in my hand, which suddenly felt like the size of a cinder block and the weight of a university textbook. The feet of classgoers leaving the studio crossed my field of vision as I kept my head down, desperately trying to think of a strategy that might not get me arrested. \n\n\n“Don’t let ‘er get away, now,” the boss chided, clapping me on the back with one of his huge, sooty hands. I look up to see the blonde girl striding down the street, yoga mat tied across her back like the millennial-version of a broad sword. I took a deep breath. “She’s not gonna wait for you,”\n\n\nThe two teens snickered in unison as I took off after her, heart in my throat, hand clutching the deck of cards as my feet slapped across the cobble stones. \n"
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[WP] You become an animator for The Simpsons and you finally find out how they've been predicting everything that's been happening.
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"\"Congrats JERRY!, you passed the last test.\" Matt coughed while smoking his cigar with a smirk on his face. \"You are one of the team now JERRY!, Do you know what that means!? \" Matt screamed while coughing on his cigar. \"We let you in on how things work and you don't tell anyone, by now you have worked out the Stonecutters are the masterminds behind us and FOX, but what you can't work out is how we predict the future well I am going to tell you.\" Matt smirked while pouring a glass of Sad Grand-Dad. \"JERRY! We have an alien that in exchange for a brief part in the Stonecutters episode, he gave us a time machine.\" Matt looked down at his empty glass and poured another drink. \"JERRY! Pay attention the time machine has one turn for every writer, each writer must use his or hers one turn must to come back with an interesting story line based off true events or celebrity dirt so we can get more cameos.\" Matt removed himself with strain from the throne of cartoon families. \"JERRY! Also Itchy and Scratchy are real as well, want to meet them?\"",
"The writers’ room is strictly prohibited, especially for a simple animator like me. I’ve never seen their door open or close; instead they prefer to slide their manuscripts under the gap between the door and floor and let the animators and interns fight over it like rapid animals. Whenever we had questions about scenes or direction of the story, we usually gather around the sacred door and shout our concerns. We see *something* slither behind the frosted glass and deliver a note underneath the door addressing our concerns. Asking too many questions, of course, is grounds for immediate termination. \n\nHours ticked by as I animated a scene of president Trump declare an embargo on the world via Twitter when the entire crew could hear clamoring from behind the writers’ door. Though the odd sound of existential screams and ritualistic chanting weren’t uncommon, most the animators thought nothing of it until the terrible hissing sound began. It pierced our ears with unrelenting force and when we sent Dave, the intern, to door, he reported a strange green glow before being quickly vaporized. \n\nErasing the days since the last intern died while on the front lines of animation, a loud bang burst from the writers’ door as it swung open with unparalleled force. A fine foggy mist infiltrated the office wrapping our lungs with an unnaturally sweet taste. Cautiously, like monkeys approaching the design of some mad experiment, we approached the door. Illuminated by an emerald light from deep within, we cautiously entered the doorway, going where no mere mortal dared to dread. \n\nDesks lined the walls, each with a stone tablet and chisel. Upon further inspection, we noticed some alien cuneiform deeply engraved on the tablets. We advanced further into the room and noticed the writers had their own executive bathrooms, not segregated by gender, but by writing accomplishments. For those who primarily wrote the most episodes, they received bathroom of grandeur, complete with a self-flushing toilets and a blood fountain. For those who wrote the least, they received a much dirtier bathroom with a small alter for animal sacrifices in the corner, much like the bathrooms for the animators. \n\nIn the end of the room, Matt Groening wept into a small reflecting pool. When approached, he did not lash out or eat an intern, as was his usual behavior, but instead accepted our presence. \n\n“I suppose I owe you some explanation,” Matt began. “This is the reflecting pool of time. Through the movements of its waters, time itself flows. By stirring its waters and creating ripples, the producers and writers could shape and warp time and reality itself. Every season, we would gather around the pool and peer into its depths and look at the river of time itself and predict events of the future, yet, when reality bored us with bland satire, we would dip our fingers into the water and change the course of history.”\n\nHe gave us a pitiful look.\n\n“The beings that erupted from this pool made it very clear,” he continued. “We will not interfere with time again.”\n\n*****\n\nMore stories at r/Andrew__Wells",
"Before we begin, I already know you're going to look at this note as if I'm insane. As if there is no possible way that any of this could be true. You'll crumble up the paper into a ball, aim for the wastebasket to your left, and miss. There was a reason you rode the bench while playing on your middle school basketball team.\n\nThe first day of my job as an animator for The Simpsons was pretty straight forward. I filled out a bunch of paperwork, a tradition at any new gig, was given a tour, went out to lunch with my boss and coworkers, and was given my own desk and station to work from. I even had a nice window overlooking a few buildings in the lot next to ours.\n\nAs the afternoon continued to pass, I noticed I had not been given any work yet. I found that strange. Normally by now, I'd be sitting in on storyboard sessions, working with the writers or at least doing some menial grunt work until they can fit me into the standard rotation.\n\nA knocking sound woke me from my wondering and there stood my boss, Joe. Joe was an interesting guy, who was well spoken at lunch, but within the studio, seemed uneasy at all times. He's probably burned out all the time from the weekly deadlines they have to hit for each episode. I would be after being here as long as he has.\n\n\"Nick, let's talk about the next episode you'll be working on,\" he said. His brow was furrowed in concentration; as if he was trying to carefully pick the next few words out of a pile that could collapse upon itself. \n\n\"That would be great! I'm happy to get started right away,\" I replied. I'd like you to mark this as the point in which my happiness would show itself for the last time in this building. I just didn't know it yet.\n\nJoe motioned me to follow him and so I did, walking through the hallways, dimly lit above as each station's work lamps glowed softly in my peripheral. We arrived at a door that was marked with a plaque reading \"Watch your head.\" Joe opened the door and moved slowly inside, though he did not duck. There was nothing to duck under, as I soon saw. Joe went deeper into the room, still mostly dark, and then the room lit up as he pulled on an overhead chain lighting up a single exposed bulb overhead.\n\n\"Come in, Nick. Watch your head.\"\n\nI came in and looked around. There was a single leather chair in the corner, and a few machines were hooked up on a nearby table with microphones, speakers, and more buttons and dials than I cared to pay attention to at the time.\n\nI confusingly looked around and replied, \"Is this some kind of special recording studio you guys use?\"\n\nJoe shook his head, shut the door and replied somberly.\n\n\"Sit down, Nick. Watch your head.\"\n\nI felt a sudden unease. I don't know what it was, but something felt... *strange* about this room. The chair, in particular, was a curious item in itself, and I both wanted to sit and instinctually felt it was a terrible notion.\n\nI swallowed my fear and sat down. The weight of my body felt heavier than normal. The bulb seemed to burn brighter as I got closer to the chair, but surely that was just it warming up, I thought. I didn't notice it at the time, but I can tell you now with certainty that as my ass hit that chair, the machines started recording.\n\nJoe took off his thick-rimmed glasses, rubbed his balding scalp with his spare hand, and let out a breath. \n\n\"Nick,\" he started, \"What are the news stories for next year?\"\n\nI replied like my smart-ass self thought I should. \"I'm not an Amazon Echo, sir, I have no id-\"\n\nA flood of images rushed into my brain. I felt my being lift out of my body. I looked straight down at my body, still sitting in the chair, and my head, now shaking violently while rotating in circles. I was yelling out all the things my spirit was seeing, like some kind of awful song that only the damned would sing. This was the most unnerving thing I had ever seen, and as I watched, the images became clear. I saw headlines and newspapers, articles wrote themselves to my memory. I was reading from papers around the world, seeing movies from the latest theater showings and hearing songs from the radio. \n\n\"Concentrate on next year this time, don't wander,\" I heard Joe say. I noticed that the bulb was now pulsing with brightness, Joe was staring at the ground to avoid looking at my body's unnatural movements.\n\nI took all of this information in, and as I started to feel my being learn more than what was asked, I was suddenly sitting back in the chair, staring at the inside of this bleak room. The bulb was steady, the machines were off and Joe was cleaning his glasses.\n\n\"Go back to your desk, Nick,\" Joe exhaled. \"Rest up, the last animator only made it three weeks before going insane.\"\n\nI sat at my desk for three hours. No one came by to check on me. As best I could tell they didn't need anyone to. The chair turned you into some form of omniscient medium from which a question could derive an answer, the machines recorded it all and the people here never asked any questions out of fear of coming off as loons. I waited until everyone was gone before I started to leave. \n\nAs I walked down the hall, I realized the room was in front of me. It didn't sit still. It waited for me. I wanted to know more. I checked for onlookers and entered.\n\nWhat I saw there has left me cold. I have seen things that were never meant to be viewed again. I have come to understand the inner workings of the world, along with all those who inhabit it. It is my fear that I cannot change any of what I know to be coming. I loathe that I can only watch the past repeat itself and never interfere.\n\nSo please, reader of this letter. If nothing else, find a way to burn down the building where I work. Burn it to the ground. That chair and that room must be torn asunder so that no one suffers the fate that I have found myself a part of. I beg of you, please.\n\nAt the very least, aim a little farther to the right on your toss. Six feet is a long shot with your limited skill set and you've always missed left."
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[WP] Write a story about a disapeared key. It can be any type of key, but its disparition has not gone without consequences.
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"Night two of basslights and all through the lot, creatures were stirring, and the tracks were hot. Nectar opened and got the place live, then Pretty Lights closed with a hyperspace jive. All was well, the after party raged, bodies rose in a swell, when quiet went the stage.\n\nTwo days of turnt bass heavy energy had washed our physical forms dirty, our spirits clean. In the hour which we now live, my new friends and I are by the car, carrying suitcase and backpack to tomorrow's next great adventure. Homeward bound and back to reality. \n\nAs Nick approaches the car, unlocks it and pops the trunk, we are all a twitter with psychoactively prompted jibber-jabber about the preceding performances. Sarah talks about wild-style and butterfly, and I am all spun. Loading altogether our bagged lives, we think nothing of the slight Virginia chill. It's unseasonably warm for December, but my only socked feet bite with rising pain. This can happen with a fried brain high on everything and music. \n\nWe are about to leave the car and continue to cozza frenzy, when Nick's breathing face appears quite wide-eyed with concern. \"Sarah, I'm so sorry,\" he really appears to be so sorry, but why?\n\n\"You okay?\" she asks. \n\n\"Your key,\" he begins, his face contorted with hurt, \"It broke off in the door.\"\n\n\"Shit,\" but realizing the torment of failure Nick is facing within his own mind, \"No it's okay, don't worry I have triple A,\" when in reality this is more simple than it appears. See Nick was unable to lock the car, and it is clear to me post-haze that his concern was with leaving the luggage unattended. \n\n\"Okay... Damnit I feel really bad,\" he really did. He's looking on the verge of tears.\n\n\"No, don't, it's not your fault,\" She implores. This continues for maybe five cycles, as do many thought loops. It is quite an agony for the spectator, especially when his feet are searing with winter's cold burn. \n\n\"Aha,\" came the aha moment, \"Sarah, do you have a spare key?\" I don't know if she does, but the infinity of apology and differed blame on the nature of the indeterminate grind me down to a nub of ingenuity. \n\n\"Ohhh shit! I DO!\" Ecstasy, a lifted heart, the promise of feet to be warm yet again. She hops to, and sifts through her car's crevices to come out with metal unlocker clenched in fingers one two and thumb. \n\nNick's relief snaps him clear of the cyclical cyclone, and off we go to post bass bohemia. ",
"It was a day when a sorrow and despair were born because of the great laziness that lies deep in human nature itself. It happened suddenly and was a total disaster. That day millions of people lost their skills they had possessed, their jobs, hobbies and interests in life. Even more people lost the most efficient means of education, which started the worldwide cultural decline. Such a simple and replaceable tool, yet only the true masters were able to overcome this loss. \n\nThat day humanity lost the key of C.\n\nScientists still can't explain this phenomenon. When someone tries to touch white keys on piano keyboard, in such a way that the combination of them forms a musical composition in C key, ugly extraterrestrial sounds arise. Whether it's a friend who wants to sing the Happy Birthday song or a mother who tries to sing Twinkle Twinkle Little Star to her baby, when they open their mouths wild inhuman cries and moans cripple the souls of their relatives. There are new trends in music industry, some people adapted and finally started writing songs in different keys. But we are not ready for the next wave, we can not afford to lose G, E and other popular keys.\n\nP.S. My first attempt to write a prompt, sorry for my english"
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[WP] Anything that reveals the story to come full circle at the end.
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"John opens the door and steps back into the room.\n\n\"See, it isn't working properly\" he says.\n\n\"Hmm, you're right.\" John and I are stood in front of his time machine; he insists something is wrong. It looks fine to me, but what do I know, it's not my area of expertise. I tell him what I think: \"The calibrations are off, I think.\"\n\nJohn looks at me puzzled.\n\n\"You don't what calibrations are, do you?\"\n\nI don’t.\n\n\"Yeah, they're… they're… these bits.\" I say, pointing to something on John's work-top that appeared to be connected to the time machine, \"these are the calibrations. Well, you know what I mean, I'm not an idiot, I mean this is the machine that makes the calibrations for us.\"\n\n\"That's a toaster, Geoff. It makes toast for us.\"\n\nHmmm… swing and a miss.\n\n\"Well in that case I don’t know, John. I'm not sure why you even invited me here; you know I don't know anything about this stuff. I work in insurance!\"\n\n\"Exactly, Geoff, time-travel insurance. Think it through mate. It's not taking me to the right point in time, it's slightly off. Do you think I could have a claim?\"\n\n\"Well, you need to find out what's wrong with it first. Try it again.\"\n\nJohn steps into the time machine. Shaped like a toilet at a festival, only gleaming metal rather than mud-soaked plastic, it has all the proper registration numbers and safety features embossed on the outside. It really is a decent piece of kit. Weirdly, despite talking about them all day at work, it had been years since I’d actually seen one – they were quite impressive, when they worked.\n\nThe machine buzzes into life, the clichéd Tesla-style electric balls start fizzing and whirring on the top. I may not know much about how these things work, but I did know that those swirling balls of purple electricity are unnecessary. The salesman had seen John coming a mile off. Although, he did run a time machine dealership…So he probably saw most people coming.\n\nA flash, a bang, and John is gone. \n\nJohn opens the door and steps back into the room. \n\n\"See, it isn't working properly\" says John.\n\nAnother John opens the door and steps back into the room. \n\n\"See, it isn't working properly\" says Another John.\n\nAh, shit. There goes his claim.\n"
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[WP] Time really does go by faster when you're having fun. As a result, all fun is strictly regulated. You're the fun police.
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"I hated my job. My life depended on it. \n\nOnce, I caught a pair of toddlers prancing about with a toy airplane. Someone had called the laughter hotline to leave an anonymous tip . I was in Hyde park in a blurry instant.\n\nOne moment they were giggling pre-preschoolers, the next they were slack jawed teenagers witnessing a grown man practice his MMA striking (MMA fighters aren't granted police batons, nor are they on fight cards with toy planes, I realize this, but you work with what's given). \n\nI shook the broken cockpit before their zit-covered faces. \n\n\"Was this worth your childhood?\" I asked.\n\nJust a pair of blinking eyeballs (and teenage angst). \n\nLord how I would have liked to smack some sense into them. A smooth legsweep transitioned into a steady rain of hammerfists, just to let that life lesson sink in (I'd mastered the moves just the week prior). \n\nDr. Zenwe had said my heart couldn't take too many more fast-forwards though, and just then I noticed a new liver spot on my forearm. \n\nAt our home, we ate canned spinach lest our tastebuds sing too loudly and we suddenly found ourselves having a decent time. Gretchen inspected the new wrinkles on my hands. \n\n\"Perhaps we shouldn't watch that British documentary tonight,\" she said. \"I think you half-enjoy the accents.\"\n\nI loved her for that worry laced behind her eyes. She was the most boring women I'd ever met, and together we maintained a house of spotless passive aggressiveness (picture the 'fun' equivalent to a slug crawling across an endless salt pan).\n\nLater, we watched CSPAN, and I imagined stuffy congressmen duking it out in the octagon. \n\n*What a strike*, I thought, picturing the bald guy with the jowels roundhouse the hotshot behind the podium, effectively ending the filibuster. \n\n*He rocked 'em!*\n\nThe picture on the screen began to move a bit faster, and Gretchen shot me that look.\n\n\"You've got such an elaborate imagination,\" she said. \n\nAnd then, when the picture continued to speed:\n\n\"I swear to god Allen.\"\n\nBefore bed we made love without making eye contact. Despite my best efforts, it still felt pretty damn good. I lied and said I had to pee so I could catch my breath in the bathroom mirror. What a cruel joke, universe! Forcing a time-bound species to procreate (sometimes I wish I had ED). I returned to bed determined to see the worst in life.\n\nAt the precinct, Mathison assigned me to the mall for a week amid rumors that some vagabond mime planned a terrorist attack. I bought some Panda Express and remained vigilant. \n\nOld lady pushing crying stroller-baby: all good. \n\nYoung teen on awkward date: fine\n\nHomeless man picking nose to disgust of bystanders: check. \n\nThen, there it was. I could hardly believe my eyes--the brazen nerve! An entertainer here in our mall! It was absolutely despicable. The mime strolled in willy-nilly, nary a concern for the well being of innocent onlookers or surprisingly aged police officers. He began performing (trapped in a box, pull on invisi-rope, all the standard stuff) before I could stand and shout *be gone you filthy anarchist!*\n\nI dashed through the growing crowd, shoving giggle-stifled faces aside, and to my horror I felt that tingling ebb of time beginning to quicken its pace. \n\n\"I'll show you a performance, you damned gypsy!\" I shrieked, and leaped towards the painted terrorist. \n\nMy fists flew relentlessly raining hellfire from every direction. I jabbed him, one-two, and then slugged him with an uppercut (I threw in an elbow for good measure!). \n\nSoon, I had him on the ground, and the crowd backed up in x2 speed as I went for the arm bar submission. Their blurry faces were wide eyed in amazement. \nI pulled back on the mime's arm even harder and he groaned beneath me.\n\n\"Submit!\" I laughed, but my voice was lost in the blur. \n\nMy heart gave this little flutter in my chest, and I kneed him weakly in the liver.\n\n\"Submit!\" I ordered once more. \"The fun has to stop here!\" \n\nI rifled through my remaining repertoire of MMA moves. *Time to pull out all the stops*, I happily concluded.\n\nThere was no more time left to lose. "
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Is it obvious? Subtle? Is he actually one or are you just hallucinating? What is he/she planning to do? So many questions!
(alternatively, you can just ignore this and start writing)
Have fun!
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[WP] You suspect that the person in front of you is a terrorist.
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"He *looked* like a terrorist.\n\nIt's my job to find this guy, right? I was doing the job, that's it. And of course they didn't give me a full description! If I had that my job would be a whole lot easier, now wouldn't it?\n\nWe're on the train like my briefing says he's going to be. He's in the car that the briefing says he's going to be on. Is it my fault that he looks like half of the people in there? Again, shitty description. But my people must have had some idea this might happen, because there's a code phrase. I go up to the guy and ask \"Is that seat taken?\"\n\nNo, that's not the code phrase, that'd be a terrible code phrase for a train, come on! He had a seat open!\n\nNo, once I sit down, I ask him, \"Do you have yesterday's newspaper?\" That's the code phrase. It's a reasonable question so if someone overhears it they don't get too suspicious, but it's rare enough that random people aren't going to ask.\n\nAnd he says: \"I do not, but the next stop should.\"\n\nObviously just saying 'no' isn't the counterphrase because who's going to have a copy of yesterday's paper? Everyone would say no to that. It's the 'next stop' thing. The man's supposed to say no but then, according to the briefing, he'll point me to where the rest of the cell is meeting.\n\nI should have known then that something was wrong, because the next stop was a good two or three stops away from the target, but I figure maybe the meeting's just trying to establish distance. Not operating right in the backyard, you know? So I go along with it.\n\nAnd you know the rest, don't you? You and the rest of the task force were waiting for me there, clap me in irons before I can even say a word. If you were smart, you'd have waited until I met up with the rest of my cell, got us all.\n\nMe, I don't know anything. Hell, I just told you everything I knew. I got the orders to join my cell in a blank manilla envelope dropped off by who-knows-who. I know the target's in Manhattan somewhere, but that doesn't really narrow it down. I didn't even recognize my contact, got your undercover man instead.\n\nThat's it. That's everything.\n\nI'd ask \"am I free to go?\" but I think we both know the answer to that one."
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[WP] Despite your best efforts, you cannot save the ones you love.
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"\"Don't move, or I'll shoot!\"\n\nThe man stood in front of the wreckage along the bridge, cars piled up behind him. \"Please...\" I begged. \"Just let her go...\"\n\n\"Not until I have my money!\" the man seethed, his voice hissed through his teeth with his jaw clenched shut.\n\n\"I don't...I don't have any...I'll get it...just please...\"\n\n\"Daddy!\" the small voice called out from the edge.\n\nI glanced over to see no one there, but recognized the sound of the voice of my little girl. \"Please...my daughter...\"\n\n\"Don't move!\" he shouted again, pressing the nozzle of the gun harder to my older girl's temple, as the policeman pointed his gun at him. \n\n\"Daddy!\" \n\n\"I...I gotta...\" I took a step, and the shot rang out, as she crumpled to the floor. \n\nA sound barely left my mouth before another shot rang out, striking me in the shoulder. Another shot quickly followed, as the man collapsed on the floor along with me. \n\n\"Anna!\" I shouted, the pain not getting to me yet.\n\n\"Daddy! Help me!\"\n\nI turned myself over, scrambling on all fours to get to the edge. She was barely there, her hands slipping every moment from the sweat gathered under her palms.\n\n\"Anna!\"\n\nI reached my arm, and our fingertips touched.\n\nBut she let go.\n"
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[WP] Every time your walk into a room, your theme song blasts out in full volume.
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"Angela sat at the table in the corner, avoiding the stares from the other patrons. She was convinced that no-one had a worse theme than she did. Whereas most people had some sort of instrumental or a classical tune, Angela had something...niche. Something that made it difficult to find someone. Her only defense from people gawking at her while they cover their ears was to hide away - an unfortunate circumstance to one who was naturally timid in the first place.\n\nShe looked at her phone and checked the details on the web page. A week ago she signed up for a blind dating website that specialized in matching people with unfortunate themes. \n\nIt was six o'clock. She looked around; there were only five other patrons. Notably, an older couple that wouldn't stop staring at her with disapproving scowls.\n\nA handsome man walked through the door and the sound of smooth jazz filled the diner. His was smiling and confident, she could tell that he liked the way his theme affected people - definitely not the one she was looking for.\n\nWith a great sigh, Angela leaned back in her seat and looked out her window. Outside was a man jogging from his nice car towards the diner. He too was handsome with rugged, masculine features. He had the body of a heavy-weight boxer, tall, dark-skinned, and muscular. Angela thought he was quite the looker. \n\nWhen the man got to the doors, he placed his hand on the handles, cracked the doors open just slightly, and back away. Angela watched with a puzzled face as one of the strongest looking men she'd ever seen pace back-and-forth before opening a door. What theme could a man that looked like he could beat a Sherman tank in a wrestling match have that would make him too afraid to open a door?\n\nFinally, he entered. Angela watched with a puzzled face as the doors slowly closed behind the man. He cringed the moment the door shut behind him.\n\nMORE THAN A WOMAAN!\nMORE THAN A WOMAN TO MEEEE!\nMORE THAN A WOMAAN!\nMORE THAN A WOMAN TO MEEEE!\n\nThe old couple started to chuckle. Some other patron spit out their water. Even the cook smirked as he flipped burgers. The man at the door was visibly embarrassed.\n\nNevertheless, Angela liked the Bee Gees. Disco was her thing, funnily enough. She waved at the man with the friendliest face she could muster. He smiled back, walked over, and took his seat.\n\nCarl was his name, and he was a gentle giant, beefed up to the shape of a monster truck as his only defense from having a horrible theme.\n\nAfter introducing themselves, eating, laughing and joking, talking about everything from movies to books, they landed on the subject that all conversations lead to: music. The same music that controls all life.\n\n\"You know,\" Angela started, her face still grinning from a joke Carl said. \"I hope you don't think I'm being manipulative when I honestly say that I love Disco.\"\n\n\"Ha, to tell you the truth I'm not a Disco person to begin with. That said, I wish I had a different song. Or hell, a different part of the song I've got. But nope, had to be that particular chorus of that particular song. I've got different tastes, the total opposite of Disco, really\"\n\n\"Oh, and what's that?\"\n\n\"Metal, mostly.\"\n\nAngela's eyes, for a brief moment, swept suspiciously to the corner of the room. He looked at her face, perked with curiousity. He hadn't yet heard Angela's theme. Though, he already knew that he liked her no matter what it could be.\n\nCarl covered the bill and left a tip on the table. Together, they walked towards the door already close enough to be hand in hand.\n\n\"I can go first if you like, I'm used to taking the blunt of the jokes.\" Carl said.\n\n\"Thankyou, but it's okay.\"\n\nAngela took a big gulp and walked through the door. Immediately, as if the whole town was being attacked by a swarm of buzzsaw-wielding bees, one of the blackest, brutalist, black metal songs to ever unfurl from the croaking howls of man erupted into the air. A passerby jumped in shock, a baby started crying, a man inadvertently stepped on the gas and ran over a fire hydrant, there was a panic as people were convinced a gate to hell had opened up behind them. \n\n\nAngela turned away from the carnage and faced Carl. \n\n\"I hope it doesn't bother you...Like it does most people.\"\n\nCarl smiled. \"You are perfect.\"\n\nLaughing, hand in hand, they strolled down the street. Bathory and Bee Gees blaring loud and clear for all to hear. \n\n\n\n\n\n \n\n\n\n\n\n",
"\"HERE'S DAVE!\" a disembodied voice shouted over a mish-mash of guitar and synthesizer.\n\nDavid Lynn sulked into the office break room, wincing at the shrieking 80's rock that followed him everywhere. David sighed a sense of relief when he noticed a full pot of coffee and no coworkers hovering around it. *If I'm quick, I can grab a cup and get out of here before the solo is over,* David thought optimistically.\n\nDavid moved swiftly to the cabinet, only to find his mug was sitting soiled in the sink. Someone, probably Rob, made hot chocolate in it and forgot to let it soak over the weekend. David didn't have time to rectify the problem if he were to make it out before the drums kicked in. He swallowed his environmental concerns and opted to grab a disposable cup, promising himself that he'd find a way to off set the impact of his choice.\n\nNow, with coffee in cup, David rushed to add a bit of creamer to his beverage. *Oh for pete's sake...* he thought as he found the container having too little to properly flavor his drink, but too little to throw away. He debated it for a moment, but ultimately decided having a black coffee was worth not forcing his curse on anyone else on a Monday morning.\n\nHis hesitation came at a price. \"Is that David?\" a familiar voice called out from the hallway. It was Becky from HR, who was way too much of a morning person and just loved to talk about how she was into \"retro\" music. David was at the door when she walked in, nearly colliding with the HR generalist in the process. Unfortunately, he spilled some coffee on the ground.\n\n\"Good morning, David!\" Becky said from behind a wide smile. \"Looks like someone's having a case of the Mondays!\"\n\nThe drums kicked in. David didn't have much time before the lyrics kicked in.\n\nDavid rushed to clean his mess, adroitly making small talk about his weekend in the process. He was in good shape, until he noticed that the waste basket didn't have a liner. Becky was pouring herself a cup of joe, tapping her fingers along to the rhythm of the song. David said a quick apology to himself and tossed the paper towels in the waste basket.\n\n\"DAVE'S A TOTALLY RAD KINDA DUDE! HE WON'T PUT UP WITH ANYONE RUDE!\"\n\nDavid groaned. Becky sang along.\n\nThe second solo started, but it was only a short reprieve. David started to make his way out of the break room, when Becky pointed out that his shoe had become untied. \"Safety first!\" she gently chided the accounting clerk. David leaned down to tie the laces, hoping he'd make it out before...\n\n\"DAVE'S NEVER LOST HIS COOL, ALWAYS THE FIRST ONE AT SCHOOL!\"\n\nDavid wasn't going to double knot it just now.\n\n\"DAVE KNOWS HOW TO JUST SAY NO! HE LIKES TO PLAY IN THE SNOW!\"\n\nMore voices could be heard approaching the break room. David rushed out of the room and into the hallway. Standing in front of him was Dennis, who had bullied him in high school and who was now David's immediate supervisor. Maybe he could sneak away and salvage a few minutes of his morning?\n\n\"HERE'S DAVE!\""
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[wp] Death himself is dying, and you are his reaper.
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"\"So, uh...\" I pushed my hood back, running a hand through my hair. \"Is this, like, a Santa Clause situation?\"\n\nDeath glanced at me from its bed, raising an eyebrow. \"Santa Claus? The children's story?\"\n\n\"No, no it's -- maybe you haven't seen the movie. I guess you're pretty busy. *Were* pretty busy. I guess I'm just... am I going to be Death now? Is this my job? And who was that guy who brought me here?\"\n\nDeath shook its head, waving a skeletal hand. \"That's Dennis. He's going to take over for me, but we needed a third party to take me because in the bylaws it states -- you know what, it's complicated. Bureaucratic stuff. Don't worry about it, you can go back to whatever you were doing before as soon as I bite it.\"\n\n\"Oh.\" I sat on the edge of the bed, relieved. \"Cool. Because I watched Dead Like Me and all that, but I just don't really think I want this to be my life's calling. Plus I don't want to have to die in order to do it.\n\n...Cool cloak, though.\"\n\n\"You're going to have to give that back afterward. We don't really have a lot of them, it's sort of a one-to-wear-while-you-wash-the-other deal.\"\n\n\"Oh, yeah, of course.\" I looked down at my hands in my lap, unsure of what to do next. \"Do you want some tea or something? Soup? I could--\"\n\nDeath interrupted me, clearly growing irritated. \"Just wait a few minutes and it'll be over. Go get the scythe.\"\n\nI jumped up and walked over to where I'd left the weathered tool leaning against the doorframe. Death watched. \"You remember how to do it?\" I nodded.\n\n\"Good.\" It closed its eyes, motioning me over. \"I think I'm ready. Go ahead.\" \n\nI cleared my throat. \"Death, fear not. I come this day to--\"\n\n\"Howard.\"\n\n\"What?\"\n\n\"Howard is my name. Death is sort of... a title? Use the name Howard.\"\n\nI nodded and started over. \"Um. Howard. Fear not. I come this day to reap thy soul, seasoned upon this earth, and deliver it unto thy maker where it shall rest for all eternity in peace.\"\n\nDeath nodded. \"Good. And then?\"\n\nI gestured with the scythe and my eyes widened at the glowing portal that appeared before me. \"Whoa. Okay. Ready?\" I extended a hand. Death, beginning to glow itself, stood and grasped it -- its hand was oddly warm. \"Thank you,\" it said. \"I'll go myself. You're a mortal, you can't walk me through.\" \n\nIt stepped through the portal, and just like that, the room was empty. No portal. No Death. No glow. I sat back down on the bed, then heard footsteps in the hall. Dennis appeared in the door. \"All done? I can drive you home now.\"\n\n\"Yeah, thanks... hey Dennis?\"\n\n\"Yes?\"\n\n\"Death is weird.\"\n\n\"You're telling me, buddy. Get your coat.\"\n",
"    “*I don't understand,*” said a very pallid brown-haired youth. He was feebly clutching his chest as he stared into the startling emerald eyes of the flaxen-haired lad on whose lap his head rest. They were together atop a grassy knoll underneath the shade of an elderly, twisted tree as the wind blew the dancing flower heads to and fro.\n\n    “Everyone dies,” said the flaxen-haired boy, brushing some brunette hair out of the other's face. “Even you.”\n\n    “*But I am DEATH.*” Stars flared and faded in his eyes as he spoke. A coughing fit wracked his slender form. For a moment, the blonde was worried Death might fall apart from the shaking, but it subsided.\n\n    Tenderness filled the blonde's eyes. “You are a death.” He corrected gently. “There was one before you and there will be another after.” He shifted until Death's head fell more comfortably on his thigh. A moment of silence passed as he let his words sink in. “You have done so much, reaper-man; you have carried such a large burden.” He lifted one of Death's frail hands into his own. “Lay it down. Rest. You have earned it.”\n\n    Feeble protestations met his words. “Don't fret, dear Death; your charge will be well cared for. You have no need to fear.” Gently he stroked down Death's fevered face with the back of his hand. “Sleep now.”\n\n    Death's eyes, which had been struggling to stay open, relaxed and closed. Weakly he asked, “*What happens when I die?*” His voice was barely a croak.\n\n    Light, pure laughter emanated from the golden-haired youth and danced in the air. “How many have asked you that question? You, too, must wait and see.”\n\n    Death laughed a deep, rich laugh that quickly dissolved into a coughing fit. That was only fair, he supposed.\n\n    No.\n\n    Death's eyes snapped open. “*No.*” Galaxies burst into life behind his irises. He waved his gaunt fingers and wrapped them around the materializing shaft of his sickle. A quick, sharp, practiced movement lodged the ethereal blade in the eyes of his comforter.\n\n    Death stood up, not looking back at what he'd done, refusing to consider the implications. “*Death cannot die. I* AM *Death.*”\n\n    The wind blew and the sun shined with renewed vigor. Life was all the brighter with the contrast of death. When he left, the colors became more muted; they no longer had to declare so loudly that they are alive.\n\n    With a sigh, the blonde-haired boy slid the blade of the sickle gently out of his face. It came out clean, no blood staining the shimmering metal, and no mark staining the pale skin. He weighed the instrument, the classic symbol of death, in his hands as he thought. With a chuckle he tossed it into the verdant grass beside him.\n\n    “Finally, a death who is alive.”"
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[WP] You've been forced to suppress your superpower since birth out of fear. On your 21st, you decide you've had enough and seek revenge on all of humanity. The problem is your superpower is a little... Lame.
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"\"Gina, you're too funny...\" My girlfriend leaned against my arm.\n\nI caressed Jessie's long, raven hair lovingly. Jessie wanted to go out for my 21st birthday. Well \"going out\" in our small town meant going to the Mexican restaurant. Then, since I was turning 21, we could hit one of two bars.\n\nWe were already a couple drinks in. We were enjoying ourselves. We chatted about everything, our jobs, her folks, etc. Even caught up with a couple of our more accepting classmates. We were the only lesbian couple in town. And least the only one that was publicly \"out.\"\n\nIt was turning to be a good night, we even kissed a few times. It got to the point where it was obvious that Jessie wanted to dance on the small dance floor to the tunes she played on the juke box. She tugged my arm several times.\n\nDrinks must have gotten the better of me because I finally submitted and allowed myself to be dragged onto the floor with my cocktail in my hand. \n\nUnfortunately, the drunken tug-game caused me to careen into another woman on the floor, and I spilled my beverage on her. Things only got worse when I realized it was Lindsay Schultz. My school nemesis. \n\nYou how girls just instinctively hate other girls? That was our relationship, kindergarten until we graduated.\n\n\"Watch it you fucking dyke.\" She sneered, she clearly hadn’t forgotten me either. \n\n\"Look, it was an accident, Lindsay...\" I started. I was trying to keep my poor temper in check.\n\n\"Oh please, you just wanted to see my tits or something. Thanks for spilling cheap vodka on my top!\" Lindsay dabbed at it with a weak bar napkin.\n\nI continued to glare daggers at her. Jessie snapped me out of it by getting in my line of sight. Her lips said, \"Let's go.\"\n\nI snorted, but nodded. We turned to leave, my arm wrapped around Jessie.\n\n\"Have fun, fingerbanging each other!\" Lindsay called after us.\n\n\"At least my girlfriend is more loyal than your husband!\" I shot back. Lindsay's husband had been the subject of quite the scandal involving seven women.\n\nApparently that was the line. Lindsay jumped me as I held open the door for Jessie. We spilled out into the street.\nIn classic catfight fashion, Lindsay went for my hair. Which was cropped short, all she was doing was emphasizing my fauxhawk. \n\nWe separated and stared each other down. \n\nMy lip was curled, my blood was boiling! I was so infuriated! My mother's words were in my ear, about how I had special abilities, but I never could use them!\n\nSCREW THAT! THIS CUNT OF A WOMAN NEEDED HER ASS KICKED!\n\nI reached deep inside of myself. I could feel the power surging. I could feel my body changing. My clothing got tight across my back and shoulders.\n\nI smiled as I look to see Lindsay cowering. Her face contorted in shock. I was so tired of her shit. I could my insides churn with another power. I released an inhuman noise and let loose!\n\nI could feel it rise from my stomach through my neck and out my mouth. Lindsay screamed in horror.\n\nI opened my eyes to see what damage I had wrought. Lindsay was still very much alive, but coated in some sort of viscous fluid. It looked like vomit but three times more slimy. She began to blubber and she skittered away.\n\nI turned to face Jessie, who was shaking, her hands covering her mouth. I felt my ears cock awkwardly. \"What's... what's wrong?\" My mouth had changed shape, like my bottom teeth were in the way.\n\nIt was then Jessie couldn’t help herself anymore. She burst out laughing. I was even more confused. I blinked a few more times.\n\n\"What could POSSIBLY be so funny?!\"\n\n\"You! You're a were-llama!\" She struggled to pull out her compact while jiggling with laughter.\n\nUnfortunately, it was true what I saw in the mirror. I was a were-llama, with a fauxhawk. \n\n I think my mother was trying to save me this embarrasment by telling me never to use my powers....\n\n\nEDIT: Posted before done, made a few corrections with words. Sorry if it seems rushed, I am rusty with writing. I also did this just before work.",
"Most kids can’t wait to get to their 21st birthday for one obvious reason: party time. Don’t get me wrong, I was pretty excited to finally walk into a bar and not fidget as the bouncer checked my ID. But that wasn’t my focus on the cusp of my 21st birthday. No, my focus was on something else entirely. My focus was on total world domination.\n\nIt was a moment I had been waiting for all of my life. I had endured teasing, bullying and psychological torture over it. I had lived my entire childhood in fear of what people would do if they knew my secret. On my 21st birthday all of that was going to change once and for all.\n\nMy best friend Dave and I had agreed to meet at The Easy Gin at 11:30 on the eve of my 21st birthday. The Easy Gin was located in a historic building in the downtown of our college town. It was a long, narrow room that funneled from the dance floor in the back into an entryway barely wide enough for two people to walk should to shoulder. It was a fire officer’s nightmare, a sociopath’s dream and the perfect setting for my first steps into a life of villainy. \n\nDave was already waiting for me outside the bar when I arrived. \n\n“You look very…dark?” Dave said. “Happy Birthday.”\n\n“Thanks,” I said. I had spent a lot of time picking out the perfect outfit for my big coming-out event, shades of black with a blood red bowtie to help with the whole effect. Dave was wearing jeans and a shirt he had won at a carnival.\n\nAs we waited for midnight to arrive, I was pleased to note that the bar was crowded for a Thursday night. Some DJ was playing EDM in the back of the room, too far away for me to see anything but the reflection of his light kit on the walls. The frat boys, jocks, pretty girls, and every other member of a society that had never accepted me were packed together on the dance floor, blissfully unaware of the hell that was about to rain down upon them all.\n\n“We’ve got ten more minutes,” Dave said. “I’m gonna go out there and dance, you in?”\n\nI shook my head. “I wouldn’t go out there if I were you.”\n\n“It’s dancing,” Dave said. “You could try having fun on your birthday.”\n\n“I’m having plenty of fun,” I said. *And I’m about to have a lot more.*\n\nDave shrugged. He seemed annoyed, but that was normal. Dave had a pleasant, easygoing disposition. He’d never had to suffer through jeering bullies and hiding a secret power. He didn’t have evil to plan or revenge to exact. He just wanted to dance.\n\nI glanced at my phone a few minutes later. It was 11:58 PM. By the time I finished summoning my mojo, my 21st birthday would be here.\n\n*Happy birthday to me*, I thought.\n\nI wiggled my fingers in the air and concentrated on feeling the electricity flowing through my body and into my fingertips. I closed my eyes, recalled the look of horror on my playmates’ faces the first and only time I’d ever used my powers. I heard the chorus of little voices chanting “Freakshow” at me as they pointed and laughed. I felt 21 years of anger, fear, and disappointment flooding into me. I took a deep breath and pushed all of that energy out of me.\n\nSparks like fireworks showered down from the ceiling. In the back of the bar a few people screamed. It spread quickly through the crowd as people stopped dancing and scrambled to cover their heads. The music stopped. I could feel the corners of my mouth turning up. I rubbed my hands together in anticipation of the smoke and confusion and pain. This would be a wonderful debut.\n\nThe screams turned to cheers, then applause. I looked around, confused. No one was fleeing, no one was crying. And I certainly did not catch a delightful whiff of the acrid smell of burning hair and polyester. All I smelled was spilled beer and body spray.\n\nDave pushed his way through the dancing mob and came back to where I was leaning against a wall near the entrance.\n\n“Dude, you gotta check this out. I don’t know how they’re doing it but this is the best light show I’ve ever seen.”\n\nHe pulled me further into the bar, where the last of my sparks were still cascading down. I held my hand out. One of the sparks landed on my palm, pulsed brightly, then disappeared. I frowned.\n\n“Isn’t it awesome?” Dave yelled over the music.\n\nI mumbled “whatever” and walked away, staring at my hands. \n\n“You just need practice,” I said, walking out of the bar and into a nearby alleyway. “It’s been fifteen years since you used your powers, you just need to get the kinks out.”\n\nI tried it a few more times, growing more disheartened with every harmless spark that landed on my hair and shoulders like fairy dust.\n\n“Freakshow, Freakshow, *Freakshow*,” I said, growing loud with frustration. I reached up to the sky. “I was going to get my revenge. I was going to rule the world. What good is being a freakshow if I ended up with this lame ass superpower?” \n\nI did jazz fingers again and sparkling light showered down between the two dingy buildings. \n\n“WHAT WAS THE POINT OF THIS?” I yelled into the cosmos.\n\n“It’s not a lame superpower.” A voice said from the sidewalk.\n\n“What?” I asked. I felt the familiar feeling of paranoia grab hold of me again.\n\nA smallish girl in a black tank top and skinny jeans was standing in the yellow light of the streetlamp. Her hair was short and ragged, highlighted with streaks of hot pink. I could see the neon glow of a cigarette in her hand. \n\n“It’s not a lame superpower,” she repeated, coming closer to me as she took another drag. “You could probably do a lot with it if you tried.”\n\n“I doubt it,” I answered. The fear had subsided and was now replaced with annoyance.\n\n“I’m not sure how I’m going to exact revenge on anyone with this.”\n\n“Why would you want to?”\n\n“Do you understand what it’s like to get picked on?” I asked. “Or be treated like a weirdo?”\n\nShe laughed a little and turned her body to another angle. It took a moment for my brain to process the fact that there was only an empty sleeve where her right arm should have been.\n\n“Then you know,” I said, but I could feel my cheeks getting warm. “All of the name calling, and pushing, and leaving us out of games. They deserve to be punished. They deserve to pay for what they did to me. I was just a kid!”\n\n“Oh.” She said.\n\n“What?”\n\n“Nothing. Just – well, I doubt they remember even doing it.”\n\n“But I still do.”\n\n“Yeah,” she agreed. After a pause she said, “What if you didn’t, though?”\n\nI cocked my head at her.\n\n“What if you just got revenge by, I don’t know…not getting revenge?” she asked.\n\n“How would I do that?” I asked. \n\n“Well,” she said, thinking. “You’d just kind of decide to stop letting them have that power over you. Especially since they don’t even want it.”\n\n“And then what?”\n\n“And then…you’d be free to do whatever you want. You wouldn’t have to waste time on plots or worrying about how lame your powers might be. You’d go in there and dance and enjoy the night just like they are.”\n\nI pondered that.\n\n“I have to go back inside,” she said. “Good luck with your revenge, though.” \n\nI sat down on a stack of plastic crates and stared at my hands for a while, considering what she’d said. Could I just let them off the hook like that? After twenty-one years of plotting and scheming, could I just let everyone off the hook like that? \n\nMy phone buzzed. \n\n“where u at” Dave had texted.\n\nI got up and went back into the bar.\n\n“Happy Birthday,” the bouncer said, handing back my ID. \n\n“Thanks,” I said, shoving it back into my pocket.\n\nDave was waiting by the door with a drink in each hand. He handed me one of them.\n\n“I’ve been looking all over for you,” Dave said. “Sorry I missed your birthday.”\n\nI thought about what the girl outside had said. “Hey man,” I said, gesturing to the flashing lights on the dance floor. “Let’s get out there.”\n\n“Hell yes,” Dave said. \n\nI felt a little nervous surrounded by a mob of sweaty, drunk, overexcited people. People just like the bullies who’d pointed and laughed at me in grade school. People who would probably make fun of me if they knew I was responsible for the failed fire drill a few minutes earlier. \n\nAcross the mass of gyrating bodies I saw a face I recognized up on the stage. I got as close to the DJ table as I could and tried to catch her eye.\n\n“Hey!” the girl from the alley said. She motioned for me to join her up on the stage. I wriggled my way through the bodies pressed up close to it and took the stairs up to the table.\n\n“You didn’t tell me you were the DJ,” I said over the noise.\n\n“It didn’t come up,” she said. “Wanna try something?”\n\n“Sure,” I answered. It wasn’t like the night could get any worse.\n\n“Are you ready, magic fingers?” She asked. She closed her eyes and raised the one hand over her head, rocking her body to the electronic beat building in intensity. She pointed at me. \n\nI panicked and wiggled my fingers.\n\nThe beat dropped, the sparks flew from the ceiling, and hundreds of voices across the room cheered. They probably didn’t realize it, but they were cheering for me.\n\nI could see her laughing through the strobe lights. She lowered the track volume and picked up the microphone.\n\n“This is DJ Kat with my special guest on the lights--” she held out the mic for me to introduce myself. I froze.\n\n“Freakshow,” I said timidly into the microphone. \n\n“Let’s hear it for Freakshow!” she shouted into the mic. She set it down and pulled up the music again, cuing me to start the sparks again.\n\nThe crowd didn’t stare, or gape, or point at me like some horror film character. Instead, an entire room of people were chanting, “Freakshow, Freakshow, Freakshow.”\n\nI had never felt more alive in my life. \n",
"\"Dude, I glow!\" I said, my grin stretched open like a Cheshire Cat.\n\n\"What, like when a girl is pregnant?\" Todd asked, obviously confused. His face always contorted when he didn't understand something, or really when any other emotion hit. Our teachers and professors would tell him that he wears his heart on his sleeve, which brought on more facial maneuvers as he tried to wrap his mind around the implications. \n\n\"No man, like, in the dark!\" I was excited. Todd was my best friend since kindergarten, and the first person I'd revealed my secret to. \n\n\"Since when?\" \n\n\"Since almost always, my parents told me that they found me glowing one night after my 3rd birthday.\"\n\nTodd paused, his face hardened as he began to concentrate. \"That doesn't make any sense, what about all the sleepovers? I never once saw you glow!\" \n\n\"Spray tan, man. What? Did you think I was naturally this shade of orange?\" I suppress a laugh, I don't want to make light of such an occasion. \n\n\"I don't know man, I guess I thought you were, like, sick or something.\" He shrugged, looking defeated. \n\n\"Gee, thanks.\" I rolled my eyes and he shrugged again apologetically. We sat in silence, each lost in thought.\n\n\"So what now?\" He asked after a few minutes.\n\n\"Well, how many people do you know with a superpower?\" I begin. \n\n\"None, besides you.\" \n\n\"And what do people with superpowers do?\"\n\n\"Well Superman saved the world a bunch.\"\n\n\"Superman isn't real. I am. So I am going to have to take his place and put on the mantle of truth, justice, and liberty. I will defend this planet against those who wish to destroy it. I will stand up for the weaker man, the mere mortals. I will become,\" I pause for dramatic effect, \"Nightlight!\" ",
"\"You have superpowers,\" my mum used to tell me.\n\n\"But you must, never, ever use them,\" she would later caution. \"Because humanity would never treat someone different kindly.\"\n\nFollowing her advice, for twenty-one years I hid my power, afraid to use it. Beneath the facade of my otherwise uninteresting life, I wondered what kind of powers I had. Was it super strength? Incredible speed? Or telekinesis? \n\nTo my mum's relief and my own annoyance, my powers never really manifested themselves. It didn't emerge when Dan from school pummeled me almost daily, because he didn't like the way my face looked. Nothing happened when I got robbed and beaten by two thugs. Even when I saw a truck heading towards my mum, no power was unleashed.\n\nIt was therefore not surprising that after a while, I started to doubt my mum's words. Perhaps she said it just to make me happy, to give my dull life a meaning when she knew it was only going to be a disaster. I hated her for it. Hated her for giving me such a false hope, that I was special.\n\nIt was not until my 21st birthday that I finally understood what my power was.\n\nI was walking back to my dorm after spending the day in the library, when four guys cut me off. Their red and black jerseys easily gave their identity away. Members of Delta Pi, the school's fraternity. Standing taller than the other three guys, the leader was easily recognizable. James Johnson. The famous quarterback.\n\nI tried to ignore them, attempting to walk past them, but a strong shove pushed me to the ground. Not unlike the usual treatment that I got. My books were scattered across the ground. Before I could react, a strong punch landed on my stomach. I yelped in pain.\n\n\"That's for flirting with the quarterback's girlfriend!\" the guy who punched me declared.\n\nI rolled around on the grass, the pain was almost unbearable. Despite being a usual target for bullies, pain was still something I was not used to. And then a kick landed on my back, followed by another to my legs.\n\n\"No, I didn't, I'm sorry!\" I groaned in pain, but they didn't listen. The hits just kept coming, each hurting more than the last. By the time they were done, I felt blood in my mouth, and I struggled to open my eyes.\n\nJames was squatted just inches away from me. In his hand, he was dangling a girl's panties. \n\n\"So you're so desperate to get into my girlfriend's pants, isn't it,\" he mocked. \"How about I help you then?\"\n\nToo weak to respond, I laid there as his hands pulled the panties around my head, covering it. \n\n\"How about that, loser!\" he laughed as he stepped away, his friends laughing with him. From my swollen eyes, I saw them slowly walked away, leaving me on the grass in shame, too weak to defend myself.\n\nI would have just continued to lay there, like I usually do, if not for a strange sensation suddenly flowing through my body. The overwhelming pain was no longer there, as a vision of my mum appeared before me. \"Son, your moment has finally arrived,\" she said with a smile.\n\nI slowly stood up, suddenly finding myself acutely aware of my surroundings. A strange light enveloped me, as my tattered clothes slowly transformed to reveal something far more eye-catching. My body was no longer scrawny, but bulked just like Captain America when after he was injected with the serum. No longer did I feel weak.\n\nI whistled at James and his friends, who all turned and stare at me bewilderingly. \n\n\"And just who the fuck are you?\" one of them blurted out, his eyes studying my costume, oblivious that I was the same person that he punched earlier. Panties above my head, with a mankini covering my totally ripped new body, topped off with an elegant fishnet stocking.\n\nI grinned. \"My name is [Hentai Kamen](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TozprFrnn10), pervert of justice, and I am here to seek my revenge.\"\n\n-----------\n\n/r/dori_tales\n\n"
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[WP] Suddenly everyone gets a superpower but they got their downsides though. Super strength causes terrible joint and back problems, speedsters have some major difficulties living at normal speed and people with laser eyes...
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" No such thing as a free lunch... that's what the world told themselves to get over the crushing disappointment that came with a superpower. I sit and type at my desk, Joan comes racing by. She speaks so fast I can't understand her, I've learned to just nod and smile. I stand up and reach to take the stack of papers on my desk, it's incredibly heavy. I look around for Aaron, he's the office prankster. He can manipulate matter but at the cost of increasing universal entropy. He's on watchlist. \n\n I give up and slink over to Frank's corner office, I knock on the open door to catch his attention. \"Hey buddy, I know you've been pretty sore this week but I could use some help. Aaron made my stacks of paper too dense and I can't lift them, really need those copies.\" Frank rolled his eyes and got up slowly, \"That damn kid is gonna have a raid come down on our heads soon enough if he keeps up with these shenanigans.\" Frank always looked like he was in some kind of pain, he was a retired power lifter. I do mean **power** lifter, he was once the strongest being on the planet. He pushed himself too hard though and his joints tore, the surgeries he had to go through outnumber the amount of titles and medals he won. \n\n After thanking Frank for the help I took the copies, much lighter than the originals. I placed the stack in the 'going out folder.' I could see Mary in the corner, bundled up on this nice summer day. I was feeling a bit warm so I decided to go and ask her about today's meeting. \"Quite the day so far, huh?\" Sarcasm hanging off my every word. Mary let out a little chuckle, \"Y-Y-You'd think that t-t-they'd just m-m-make cuts already h-h-huh? W-w-waiting is torture.\" I let out a little laugh, my thoughts drifting to my job security with the company. \"Yea, it'll be a sad day I'm sure but you'll be alright Mary. How's the cold coming along?\" She held her hand on her coffee mug, the contents of which were frozen solid. \"S-s-should be b-better in no time!\" she finished with a warm smile. I said my goodbyes and walked back to my desk to grab my coat. \n\n Joan was already home I supposed, I waited for Frank. I always enjoyed our conversations on the elevator ride down, he regaled me with old tales in his glory days. I think it helped him deal with the pain a little bit. Exiting the building Frank went left and I went right, just like every other day. I walked out onto the street lost in thought, not noticing the light hadn't yet changed. I remember flying through the air, I woke up to Frank holding my head, a crowd of people forming around me. The medics arrived, I knew it would be painful. \n\nThey started with trying to give me anesthetic to numb the pain, I still felt everything. They attempted to heal me, even though it was detrimental to their own longevity, to no avail. I told them to get me to a hospital as quickly as possible, they obliged. The emergency surgery was excruciating but I survived. Frank came to visit and told me to take as long as I needed, I thanked him. Doctor's gave me pills but I refused them, they wouldn't work anyway. As I looked down at my broken and bruised legs, pain coursing through them, I had forgotten how much total immunity to any and all substances could suck.\n\n*** \n\nHope you liked it! r/TheYogiBearhaWrites "
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[WP] You are in the middle of working a boring office job and have an existential crisis.
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"\"Yes, hi. I am trying to order and Evidence of Homeowner's Insurance for a Mr. Smith? We are the lender for his new property...Yes he is a Solider. Yes the VA loans are very compelling. Ok thank you, I'll get that request right over to you.\"\n\nJason hangs up the phone. *\"She seems like a nice lady\"* he thinks to himself as he straightens his red polo shirt and fixes his posture. *\"Clothes are getting tight...\"* he also thinks to himself as he lets one whole on his belt notch out.\n\nJason works in the Mortgage Industry as a Loan Processor; when a loan is being processed, it is his job to gather all the documents required from the borrowers and third parties (Tax Returns, Income Documentation, Homeowner's Insurance, ect.) and he likes the job. It's stable, he makes good money and he doesn't have to go out into the big scary world, but most importantly, he is so good at his job that *his boss hardly talks to him and recognizes Jason as his own boss.* That control over his own life, that is the true prize that he values above all. \n\n*Knock knock knock* goes the sound of knuckles on his door. \"It's open!\" He says in his deep voice.\n\n\"Hey Jason, bad news\" Richard begins as he peeks his head into Jason's office, a sad look on his round face, \"That Smith file? Going to have to cancel it. The borrower was killed in action and the widow won't have access to his benefits for a while. Thanks for all your help, buddy.\" Richard leaves the office and closes the door behind him.\n\n\"Oh well, it happens. Thanks for doing your duty, Mr. Smith.\" Jason says sincerely as he closes the file containing Mr. Smiths income documents. He swivels in his chair to his shredder behind him so he can destroy the documents, per company policy. As he begins feeding the shredder, he stops. He takes Mr. Smith's file in his hands and opens it. On the left is a picture of Smith's family that he never noticed before, and why would he?guidelines are guidelines and rules are rules: either you qualify for a loan or you don't. Seeing a family has nothing to do with that. But he couldn't help but notice the beautiful wife and baby boy, he assumed since there was a blue blanket covering the child, that couldn't be more than a year old. Suddenly, it starts to sink in.\n\nRichard voice echoed in his head. *\"Mr. Smith was killed in action.\" \"Mr. Smith was killed in action.\" \"Mr. Smith was killed in action.\"* \n\nSmith didn't ask to be killed, Smith didn't want to be killed, Smith had no control over his death. *Smith had no control at all.* \n\n\"How much control do I really have?\" Jason thought to himself. \"I could walk out of this office building today and get mugged and murdered. I could be crossing the street and get run over. *And what have I accomplished? Not a fucking thing....\"*\n\n\"I am pathetic\" Jason muttered as he bowed his head, crumbling the Soldier's file in his hands due to his rage. \"I control documents. Paper. *I control fucking pieces of paper.*\" he continued to mumble. He swiveled his chair back around to face the desk, he pulled out his keys and opened the bottom right desk drawer. Jason pulled out all the documents and then took off the false bottom of the drawer, revealing his Father's old .45 gun.\n\n*\"I can have some control...\"* he thought to himself as he pulled the barrel back, loading a round into the chamber. *\"Some form of control...\"* he whispered to no one as he pointed the gun to his temple.\n\n*\"Control...\"*\n",
"Derek's game launched today. He just messaged me. It's tuesday morning, and it's already selling by the thousands.\n\n*Reply to Derek: Congrats man! Gonna try it out after work :) You finally got lucky :D*\n\n*Send.*\n\nOh god. Does that sound shitty?\n\n**Ring ring**\n\n\"DualTec Solutions, this is Tom. How may I help you today?\"\n\n\"Yes.\"\n\n\"What is your account number, sir?\"\n\n\"The number is at the bottom of your confirmation letter.\"\n\n\"Aha. Thank you.\"\n\n\"Well, I see that service wasn't activated. I've turned it on for you. If you log out and wait five minutes, it should be working.\"\n\n\"You're welcome. Can I help you with anything else?\"\n\n\"You as well, sir. Goodbye.\"\n\nFuck. Fuck! No reply. I've probably offended him.\nBut honestly. He must have tried fifty or sixty different ideas. Derek's been throwing so much crap at the wall, it was only a matter of time before something stuck.\n\n**Ring ring**\n\n\"DualTec Solutions, this is Tom. How may I help you today?\"\n\n\"Alright madam. You need to speak to our client service department.\"\n\n*Message from Derek: Thanks.*\n\n\"Yes. I'll redirect you. Please hold.\"\n\nDamnit. I can't deal with this right now.\nMaybe Derek should deal with reality instead of getting pissy. Really he's been doing the same thing since college. Always with the new ideas, but where the hell is he when it's finishing time. How many hours did I spend covering for him - saving half-assed code while he slept all day, because he had to stay up all fucking night doing some other fucking thing.\n\n**Ring ring**\n\nI mean, I stuck with it. I stayed up late doing assignments. Reading. Getting grades. Where the fuck is my greenlight? Where's my big break?\n\n**Ring ring**\n\nHe must have been lucky. Really, what else could it have been? He did not do the work. He was lazy. I kept him afloat.\n\n**Ring ring**\n\nI put in the goddamn fucking work. They told me to do the work. Grind on through. Get stuck in. Keep your chin up. Fucking liars. Goddamn fucking liars. They told me I could do what I wanted to do. They lied. They should have said: Work hard, get fucked. Fuck around, get paid.\n30 years old. Who breaks out after that. Oh yeah, Zuckerberg and Gates and whoever the fuck really stuck through the boring stuff. That's why everyone knows who they are.\n\nWhat do I do?\n\n**Ring ring**\n\n*Reply to Derek: Hey. Didn't mean to put you down. I know you've worked hard for this. Good job man*\n\n*Send.*\n\n**Ring ring**\n\n\"DualTec Solutions, this is Tom. How may I help you today?\""
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[WP] Everyone laughed at your great great great grandfather when he was buying stars and real estate in outer space back in 2017. Now, one hundred years later, outer space travel and real estate are very real. You just found out you just inherited half of the galaxy.
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"Back when everyone was getting out of the market I gave one of my stars to my sister. She was getting married, getting out of that shithole we grew up in, and she’s always been awesome to me so I felt she deserved it. It was the smart thing to do at the time, sell it all off. But I refused. \n\nYou see, the whole reason we could buy things in space was that someone had decided that countries couldn’t own things in space. Nobody said anything about individuals, so boom – companies started selling off lots on the moon, and then stars, and then exoplanets… Basically anything they could put on a certificate of ownership and give a close enough description off to fool someone into buying. It was mostly a novelty thing so nobody really took it all that seriously. \n\nAnd that’s where Alfred comes in, my great great great grandfather or something like that. He used to say I was his favorite child, usually when my mom caught me red handed doing something I shouldn’t and I spun a yarn so long she forgot to punish me. He used to say I must have kissed the Blarney stone twice over, not that I ever found out what that meant. The point is, Alfred was a stubborn mule, a stubborn mule with the gift of gab, and he said he saw the same in me. Maybe he was right, maybe he wasn’t, I much prefer to stay to myself and talk a lot less, but when I talk… well. \n\nAlfred collected stars. The owner certificates, that is. He bought them up every time he got his pension, straight from the companies, picked them up at flea markets, sent out ads and requests. When people asked he always said the same thing… “Oh I’m an old man, just like collecting something. Let an old man have his sins.” \n\nBut to me he told another story. He told me how he grew up, 12 kids and 3 adults in a two room apartment on the seventh floor of a city block so full of concrete you could go days without seeing so much as a straw of grass. He told me that back in his days a piece of land was living like a king, because you could live off land but you couldn’t live off an apartment. So owning so much as a flowerbed was a luxury to him. It wasn’t that there was any inherent value in it any more, but it was the principle of the thing, and Alfred was a man of principles. \n\nSo he bought the stars, for himself, for his descendants. He used to say that if the day came that mankind went to the stars, maybe the greedy governments would be kind enough to at least honor enough of his claims for someone someday to have that flowerbed. \n\nWhen I inherited it all from him, I didn’t have to think – I was going to keep it all of course. When the space race hit the second phase, the moon base built, the space station built, the first experimental century ships being constructed… that’s when the chaos started. Suddenly we were actually going out there. Suddenly everyone started digging out these certificates, trying to claim they owned things. And the greedy came out… The companies and rich people started buying them up, en masse. Court cases started and were moved around over the world, trying to find the appropriate venue for these ownership claims to be tried… all the while companies bought and bought… and I didn’t sell. \n\nI didn’t care for riches. As Alfred once put it – riches only buys you more expensive copies of what you already own. I had enough to survive, I was comfortable, I didn’t need to be rich. The thought of Alfred’s flowerbed was all I needed. It was the principle of the thing. \n\nBut yeah, I gave that star to my sister and she sold out in the high six figures. She was set for a while. My mom tried peeking back into my life and nagging at me to sell but I shut that down quick – it would almost have been worth selling it all just to see the look on that hags face when she didn’t get a dime, but I wasn’t that vengeful when it came down it. I just hung up until the calls stopped. \n\nIt looked for a while like the companies had it well in hand. The highest paid attorneys in the world all convened for these court cases, multiple companies that nobody had ever heard off, the mother companies behind almost everything on the planet, pulled together to push this through. The UN and the larger governments convened a special planetary court for the final appeals, hosting judges from three different countries… but even so they were being basically steamrolled by these behemoth companies. \n\nSo it was quite shocking when it all fell apart. It happened quickly, as well. Through intragovernment cooperation space was declared a “sensitive zone” or something like that – it was all legalese to me – and for some reason the corporations property within that zone was legally null and void since the government hadn’t given their permission. Something about the potential for endangered species or planetary survival, it really was a stretch… but it was good enough to blow the whole house of cards over. \n\nCue a few months of shell shocked silence. A few corporations had to shuffle a few billions around to cover sudden losses when their supposed gazillion valued investments turned out to be the sheer novelty items they were originally seen as. Or well, less than that even since the government demanded all the certificates back so they could void them officially. \n\nI should have realized it then, but of course I didn’t give it a second thought. After they had shut down the companies’ claims and voided all their certificates, they came after the private owners. There wasn’t many of us left though. A handful of people that had held out on a star trying to get a higher payout, and waited a day or two too long. Greed being punished, they handed over their certs quite easily. But when the man came to my door… I slammed it. \n\nThey used to belong to Alfred. Even if they were just glorified mementoes now they were important to him, and so they were important to me. But of course we can’t say no to the government for very long. Not without the help of a very clever lawyer. \n\nWhich is how I met Barry. \n\n(continues in comment)",
"I have never been someone you would consider important. I was never fit for the pages of immortality. Some men are born great, is what Shakespeare said, right? I was just born lucky.\n\n\nI look up at the sky and I hold my wife. The one thing I've learned in finance, the one thing that I really think about, is that the timing of your cash flows are what's important. It's the timing that makes everything. Had the timing been a little later, maybe I would have been an important man.\n\n\nMy great, great grandfather was wealthy and important. He bought the night you look at. He bought the celestial light of the far away stars. He bought our galaxy, practically. But this was in the 2000's, and he was called a nutjob. Again, it's all about timing.\n\n\nI inherited very little except for the night sky. I worked hard but I was hardly much. The fruits of my labor were raisins, all shriveled and dry. I managed through life, but I floated on, not really sticking to anything.\n\n\n\nI met the love of my life after my father had died. He was never a sentimental man and I don't know if he would have approved, but I loved her and she was my world. She was sick when I met her and she grew worse. Dad had followed in his grandfather's footsteps, becoming a wealthy business man in his own right, but I dedicated my life to her. That was more worthwhile.\n\n\nAt first we did okay. She responded to the treatment. Then she did not respond and it became bad. My pockets were empty. What could I have done? This was the 80's I guess, and I was depressed. She lay on the couch, I remember, dying and wasting and always looking at the dust dance in the light from the windows. Our house was quiet and full of dire anticipation.\n\n\nThen there was a light, an opportunity that had arose. All those stars and planets and space my great, great grandfather had bought had interested someone. A young upstart businessman. I didn't know why it interested him and at the time I didn't care. New treatments had come out. New hopes had emerged. He offered me a great sum for it all and I took it greatfully. \n\n\nMy wife was saved with the money. The new breakthroughs worked and the disease ceased to spread and it regressed. She recovered. All the money had gone by then but she was alive and we were happy.\n\n\nThe years passed and there were constant breakthroughs for the human species. Slowly we advanced and became a multi-planetary race. Soon we became a multi-system race. The borders opened and there was a rush of development and migration. That young business man became the most powerful man alive. He became one of the most important men in all of history.\n\n\nI must admit that I did feel some regret and anger. But I was never great. History would gloss me over as life had. There is only one thing I cherish, really cherish, in this life and I had given it all for her. It was the right decision and I would make it again.\n\n\nThese days the Earth feels empty, sparse and alone. They say that there are less that three billion of us remaining. The others have gone far away to the twinkles of the sky. We remain, of course, and we stare at the night sky every night and hold each other for warmth. It is thing of beauty, that sky, but it all seems to cold. I was never an explorer. I was never the adventuring type. We look at the sky and we go to bed and live a simple life. It isn't much, maybe, and it's small. But the universe is built on the small things."
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Edit: No one else can hear the cat and dog talk but you and your partner, so have fun with their exchanges.
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[WP] You decide to go on a double date. The other couple is your talking cat and your partner's talking dog.
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"\"Johnny?\"\n\nHearing his name, the blonde man sat up straight and looked around the restaurant. He smiled at the woman approaching the last few steps toward the table. \"Yeah, that's me. You must be Elise?\"\n\nShe tucked a stray wisp of brown hair behind her ear as she returned his smile. \"Yep.\" They shook hands, only a little awkwardly. \"It's nice to meet you.\"\n\n\"You too.\" A longhaired tabby cat jumped up on the table. Without missing a beat, Johnny said, \"And that makes this Professor Licks?\"\n\n\"Yeah, that's me,\" said the cat, her tone dripping with condescension. \"Don't get used to it, we'll be out of here once you two disappoint us.\"\n\nWide-eyed, Johnny looked at Elise, who mouthed \"sorry\" at him. Shaking himself, he waved an introductory hand at the last seat at the table. \"Speaking of, this is Barnaby. My best bud.\"\n\nSitting in the chair, the bulldog's eyes barely cleared the table. He hopped up and put his front paws on the spotless linen tablecloth. \"Hi, nice to meet you, Professor Licks, Elise.\" His stubby tail wagged. \"Can I call you Licks?\"\n\n\"Definitely not.\" Professor Licks groomed one of her paws with an air of offended dignity.\n\nBarnaby nodded amiably. \"OK then, Prof.\"\n\nProfessor Licks' tail bristled. \"My name is Professor Licks, you buffoon.\"\n\n\"Now, be nice, Professor Licks,\" urged Elise, with a smile at Johnny's handsome face.\n\nJohnny half-rose as Elise pulled out her own chair and sat in one smooth motion. Finding himself awkwardly standing, he coughed and made a show of reaching for his water glass, sitting back down to take a sip. \"So, uh... is this your first blind double date?\" he asked.\n\n\"Yeah,\" Elise replied as Professor Licks finished grooming and began stalking around the table, smelling dishes and looking into glasses. \"It's a little weird, isn't it?\"\n\nJohnny chuckled, ignoring the fluffy tail that crisscrossed repeatedly between them. \"It kind of is.\"\n\nWithout looking, Elise picked up her glass to save it from Professor Licks' shoving paw. \"But variety is the spice of life, as they say. I figured it was worth a try. Maybe I'd meet someone nice, you know?\" She sipped, using the motion as cover to admire the way Johnny's shirt strained across his shoulders.\n\nJohnny had been surreptitiously admiring her big dark eyes, so he didn't miss the direction of her gaze. He grinned at her. \"I know exactly what you mean. I-- hey! Barnaby!\"\n\nWithout a shred of guilt, the bulldog withdrew his nose from where it had been buried beneath Professor Licks' tail. \"You recently switched to the tuna-flavored kibble. That explains your alluring perfume,\" he said smoothly to her.\n\n\"Barnaby,\" groaned Johnny, at the same time that Professor Licks cooed, \"Oh, my.\"\n\n\"What?\" said Johnny.\n\nProfessor Licks laid down on the table in front of Barnaby. \"Tell me more, you flatterer.\"\n\n\"You've been getting into the butter--\" (\"Hey!\" exclaimed Elise.) \"--and it's doing wonders for your coat. How often do you groom to keep looking so beautiful?\"\n\n\"Oh, constantly. You know how it is, I'm sure.\"\n\n\"Not really. I just roll in the compost heap--\" (\"You what?\") \"--a couple times a day to keep the smell fresh.\" (\"That explains so much,\" Johnny groaned.)\n\nElise folded her hands on the table with a barely-noticeable thump. \"So!\" she said, smiling tightly at Johnny. \"What do you do for fun?\"\n\nJohnny tore his eyes away from the other date at the table. \"Nothing special. Hit the gym, play Xbox, sometimes I get out on the lake on my jet ski.\"\n\nElise's face fell with each word. She recovered her smile and an injection of interest and said, \"Oh, a jet ski, that does sound fun. I've never done that.\"\n\n\"Now's your chance, then. Oh, uh, I guess not *now* now. The water's kind of cold this time of year. In a few months, though?\" He picked up his glass and took a gulp, his eyes embarrassed over the rim.\n\n\"Yeah,\" Elise agreed, nodding a little too vigorously. \"Sounds great. Uh... have you read any good books lately?\"\n\n\"Naw, I'm not really the reading type.\"\n\n\"Oh.\"\n\n\"There was this great article in Muscle Magazine the other month, though...\" He tilted his head, gauging her interest.\n\n\"Oh yeah?\" Elise said, kicking herself even as the words escaped her.\n\n\"Yeah!\" Johnny enthused, back on comfortable ground. \"See, they did this experiment on exactly how much creatine...\"\n\nOn the other side of the table, sparks were flying. \"Tell me again about my poop, Barneykins,\" purred Professor Licks, climbing down into Barnaby's chair and rubbing her face against him.\n\n\"I can barely even smell it,\" said Barnaby, giving her back half another confirming sniff. \"You keep your butthole really clean.\"\n\n\"It's positively hours per day of backbreaking work, but it pays off in the end.\"\n\nBarnaby's tongue lolled out as he laughed. \"In the end! That's a good one!\"\n\nProfessor Licks groomed her face fur, looking pleased with herself. \"A gentleman *and* a scholar. What a rare combination.\"\n\n\"Aww, thanks.\"\n\nProfessor Licks leaned against Barnaby. \"Let's get out of here, what do you say?\"\n\n\"Sounds great. A couple blocks from here, there's an excellent dumpster I know that has a real deep, complex bouquet. It's behind a Thai place, a hair salon, and a hardware store. And with any luck, we'll find a dead rat too.\"\n\n\"Oh, you charmer, you.\""
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[WP] When a human dies, another parallax world is created where this human continues to live as they didn't die, in this world, they can remember their death from the previous world but no one would believe them.
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"My name is Joe, and I’ve died 39 times so far. Given that I’m only 26 years old this is probably more than average, but the thing is… I wouldn’t know. I died seven times just from the side effects of having told someone of these memories – everything from overdoses to adverse sedative reactions, oh and let’s not forget that one guy at the asylum and his breakdown. After I woke up, remembering my brutal dismembering as every other time… I was the only one left alive. \n\nSo naturally I have now gotten “better”. I no longer remember dying horribly when I cross a road and a car careens out of control just a second too late to actually hit me. I don’t remember drinking too much and dying of alcohol poisoning when I wake up hungover. I don’t remember getting stabbed to death in a botched mugging when I take an uneventful walk through a dark alley. \n\nI got a lot better. I no longer need to be medicated, I no longer talk to my shrinks. I’m pretty sure at least one or two of them guessed I was just pretending to be over it, but in this day and age they don’t really care. I’m just a number on a long list of people who need help, and if they can send me back out in society they don’t care if I actually have my shit together or can just pretend enough that I won’t actually go nuts and kill everyone or something. \n\nSo yeah, here I am, in a boring call center job, wishing I was dead like most of the drones around me. Life doesn’t hold much for me, not with the horrors I have to remember every day. There’s no stress when your mind is already set to ‘dead’, no amount of pressure can compete with the feeling of your inner organs being torn apart slowly… It’s like my scale for everything has a new 10, and the worst this reality can throw at me now is a 3 at best in comparison. \n\nAnd I know, you are still wondering how I managed to die 39 times in 26 years of life. I wondered the same, wondered if everyone else walked around getting into this kind of shit as often as me… but no. From everything I can tell, I just have the worst fucking luck. If normal people go to the second floor of an old house, they hear the floor creaking and walk carefully. If I go to the second floor of an old house, I feel the floor giving way under me, feel the exposed splinters and nails tearing up my body as I fall through grasping for purchase, I feel the slam of my body against the hard surfaces, I feel the tingling as my hand grabs that cable it shouldn’t have as I finally lose my grip, and that sudden explosion of pain and then nothing as my feet touch the floor while my hand still holds the frayed cable… And then I’m up there again, hearing the floor creaking, but standing half an inch to the side of where I stepped the last time. Just like that. Worst luck ever. \n\nFor a while I spent a lot of time thinking about how I could use this. Like could I be a super hero or something? Invulnerable man, always getting shot but never dying? In the end I just don’t know. I’ve never once died on purpose. There’s always that niggling doubt in the back of my head, that worry that this only works when it’s an accident. I don’t believe, in my heart of hearts, that I’m immortal. I just know it somehow, just feel like it’s… like it’s just the way I am. Just an oddity. Like Fred two desks down that has an extra toe he always shows off the staff parties. Just a mutation. \n\nBut enough contemplation, back to work! Another day another dollar, gotta pay for the hopefully memory loss inducing alcohol overdose this weekend somehow! I pick up the phone just as the thunderclap sounds outside, and whimper a quiet ‘Fuck’ as the lightning strike courses through our switchboard, up all our phone lines, through my hand, my arm, my chest, I can feel my heart crashing before it all goes black… \n\nAnd the rasping of a fire alarm brings me back. There’s smoke, but no fire… I know the smell of burning flesh. I’m not the only one shell shocked, some walk to check on the fallen, some just stand there, some, like me, walk over to the windows to watch the storm, watch the view, watch anything but the chaos behind us. \n“Are you okay,” says some girl I haven’t learned the name of yet. She gestures at my arm, and I blush, quickly rolling my sleeve down to cover the tell-tale Lichtenberg scars. “Did you get hit?”\n\n“No no,” I quickly lie. “Just a skin condition. It’s nothing, really.” \n\nJust a skin condition, drawing scars all over my body. Scars from accidents that never happened. Just a skin condition that nobody would ever believe. \n*****\nI archive my writing on r/ringaroundtheroses in case you're looking for more to read! \n"
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[WP] Toy snake. Real venom.
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"\"Y'know, Alex, you may just have outdone yourself this time,\" I murmured to my friend. He'd just put the finishing touches on my latest idea. He sighed. \n\n\"Even by your standards, Kat, this is a very low blow. Getting the kid involved?\" \n\n\"They're both immortal, I just really want to hear that 999 call.\" I pretended to hold a phone to my ear. \"Yes, I've just been bitten by a snake. Its fangs are dribbling something and I'm losing my vision... It's pink and fluffy wood...\" Alex laughed. \n\n\"Okay, okay. Just don't come crying to me if he lops your head off again.\" I looked at him in fake puzzlement. \n\n\"Hell no. I'm framing Drac for this.\" I paused. \"Bastard keeps borrowing my diamonds for his gold pile.\" ",
"**Roy**: This should end her, that's for sure. After all those years, justice will be served. \n**Karen**: A toy snake? My toy spider didn't work. She flinched and that's it. Not even remotely a heart attack. How is your snake better? \n**Roy**: It spits water in your face. But that's not all. I filled it with Razor's venom. You know Razor, my dad's rattlesnake. \n**Karen**: Wow, that's crazy. \nRoy carefully positions the toy onto the locker of Mrs. Fenzel, the school's psychologist who is also known as Dolores Umbridge. \nRoy and Karen wait in silence and watch as Mrs. Fenzel approaches the locker. \n***Mrs. Fenzel***: What is this? Those little bastards, when I find out who is making these pranks I will make them suffer. \nAs Mrs. Fenzel reaches into her purse for her glasses, the snake's head explodes into a Chinese umbrella as it spits the water laced with the snake's milk. \nMrs Fenzel fell onto the bottom, her face covered in liquid, growing red with anger. She yells \"I WILL FEAST ON YOUR SOUL\" and proceeds with her routine wrathfully. \n**Karen**: Now that was spectacular. But wasn't it supposed to end her? She can't be immortal. \n**Karen**: How did you manage to get the venom? \n**Roy**: I didn't have to extract it, I found the it in the bin, in a sack. My parents were in their room when mum told dad to milk his snake. I thou-- \nKaren places her palm on her forehead. \n**Karen**: You're an idiot Roy, but our justice has been served.",
"Master Roc said, \"Repeat after me. Toy snake. Real Venom.\"\n\n\n\"Toy snake. Real venom.\" We were all chanting in unison.\n\n\n\"Toy snake! Real venom!\" he said louder this time.\n\n\n\"Toy snake! Real Venom!\" We all screamed at the top of our lungs.\n\n\n\"Excellent. Everyone take a seat, and begin your stretches.\" He started every class this way, from the time were were small children until we were grown men, monks in the Order of Taipan.\n\n\nHe never told us what it meant, and this was not a place for asking questions. \"Truth is only revealed when it is needed,\" is what he liked to say. As a young student I thought he meant that he would tell us when we were older, more mature, capable of understanding. The meaning I came to find as an adult was that real truth is only understood through experience. I can tell you the stove is hot, but you do not respect the heat until you are burned.\n\n\nWe are an order of assassins who take orders only from the emperor himself. Once we leave our school, we are spread throughout the countryside. Each of us lives two lives. I am a florist, a husband, and a father, a polite man loved by his community. I am also a ruthless trained assassin who shows no mercy to his intended mark, no matter who they may be. Toy snake. Real venom.\n\n\nToday, for the first time in many years, I am visiting my old master. It will be good to see him.\n\n\nI took his hand as I walked to the front of his dojo. \"Master Roc, I have missed you. Thank you so much for all you have taught me. I have found true happiness with my wife and child. You would be so proud of my beautiful family.\"\n\n\n\"I know why you have come.\"\n\n\n\"Toy snake. Real Venom,\" I said to him as he looks down to see the needle sticking out of his wrist.\n\n\n\"You were always the best. Toy snake. Real venom.\" He collapsed to the floor, still holding my arm. I let go of him and turned to his students, who were all still sitting at attention.\n\n\n\"By order of the emperor, I am your new teacher. Repeat after me. Toy snake. Real Venom.\""
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[WP] You thought this would be an ordinary cleaning job, but boy were you wrong!
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"\t*BUzz BUzz BUzz*\n\t8pm. \n\tUgh. Time for work.\n\tI roll out of bed and sleepily begin my morning routine. I mean evening routine. Fuck. This \"glitch\" in the system better get worked out soon. I can still hear Cindy from HR apologizing to me in her bright too-sunshiney voice.\n\t\"Oh, Mr. Turner I am oh so very sorry. You have to understand we just made the switch to a new computer system and the kinks and the bugs oh and you understand!\"\n\t\"Look, I get it, but what the hell? How is it possible to mess up this much? I'm working a shift that some guy in Rome is supposed to get! That doesn't even make sense!\"\n\t\"Oh, I know I know Mr. Turner and you have to understand that I don't blame you for being so annoyed, heaven only knows i'd be annoyed too if this had happened to me and I promise we are working as hard as we can to fix it, you'll just please have to bear with us in the meantime! Just make sure to be there when your shift starts at 9:30pm! This whole matter should be sorted in 1-16 weeks! Thank you goodbye!\"\n\t*Click!*\n\tHave you ever tried grumbling to yourself? It feels ridiculous at best. Doesn't stop me though. I still try it every morni-fuck-evening when I wake up though.\n \"1-16 weeks my ass. Should be sorted my ass.\" I mumble aggressively first to the empty room in general then to the tea steeping on the counter. Neither have much sympathy to offer. \n\tOf course that whole mix up with the shifts wasn't much compared to how surprised I was when learning what exactly the cleaning job entailed. When my boss, Mr. Lothar called to tell me I had the job, I still was a little unclear on what I would be doing since the job description said only \"Cleaning a Place. Must be Punctual before Duties stack up.\" Normally I wouldn't have taken such a job with such a vague job description, however, one doesn't apply for janitorial positions when one is in an excellent financial situation. The generous pay only rang further alarm bells which weren't quieted when Mr. Lothar justified the lucrative compensation because I 'would have to put up with some pretty weird shit.' Despite all of the flags being redder than the south during an election year, I went along with it, mostly because my landlady was becoming damn difficult to dodge.\n\n\tTonight I arrived at work and greeted Mr. Lothar, who was busy on his computer at the front desk, same as always. I'm pretty sure he never slept since the bags under his eyes heavy enough to make me tired just looking at them. He glumly waved me to the door. I was about to open it when I heard him say \"Ah. A moment.\" He reached behind him and flipped a switch or two on a control panel built into the wall that looked like it belonged in a cold war bunker. There were a series of loud thunks and a low grinding sound then the door warped a tiny amount before settling back into it's frame. \"Aight go on then.\" He settled back into his chair. I opened the door and slipped through then fought back some nausea as I closed the door behind me. Falling out of the waking universe will do that to anyone. First time I went through, I actually threw up. Mr. Lothar had just laughed at me and then summoned a mop and bucket into existence. My mind found that sort of unusual so in lieu of a proper reaction I vomited again.\n\tWhen my stomach finally calmed down, Mr. Lothar helped me to my feet. \"Welcome to the dreamscape,\" he said, thrusting the mop and bucket into my hands. \"I guess you can start with the mess you made. Then,\" he gestured widely to the enormous room that stretched out around me, \"You can work on the dreams.\" I then noticed the locations all around me, elementary through high school classrooms, hospital rooms filled with implements from the worst horror movies, fantastic towers stretching to impossible heights, labyrinthian monoliths twisting in impossible ways through the landscape, quiet brooks alongside sunny meadows floating on islands in the sky, and other locales that were impossible to describe. \n\t\"Whatthefuck,\" I squeaked. Mr. Lothar shrugged far too nonchalantly for a man in who worked in the front office of a building with a warehouse that didn't exist in the waking world.\n\t\"Welp, when you dream, you have to go somewhere. Think of it like a big set warehouse except for dreams. If that helps.\" It did not. \"You're needed to clean up the places that get a little messy during the night.\" I was starting to come out of my shock, when I realized what he was saying.\n\t\"How the hell am I supposed to clean ALL of these dreams? I mean, that one is literally painted in blood.\" It was true, the entire room, furniture included, was a shiny rust red. \"No getting the stains out of that carpet with this bullshit.\" I waved my pitiful mop and bucket at him.\n\t\"Oh, no no no, sorry for the misunderstanding! I don't expect you to clean everyone's dreams with a mop.\" He snorted. \"Jesus, that'd be fucking sadistic. Nah it's much easier than that. Just glance over the room, then imagine it clean. That's all there is to it.\" \n\tI walked over to the blood room and stared at it for a minute. It was pretty hard to picture what that place should look like, but I worked at it putting together the image in my head. Then I blinked and it looked just like I had imagined it. \"Whatthefuck.\" I muttered again. It was that sort of night.\n\tAnd to be honest, it turned out to be that sort of job. Sure it got a little weird at times, and sure cleaning up after adolescent sex dreams was the worst fucking thing since actually being in puberty, but the money, well it's a dream."
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[WP]You're the bartender at a local watering hole, your usual patrons are Satan, Devils, Demons, Fallen Angels and the like. One day, God came in to have a drink.
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"The usual scum-of-the-earth walk in or should I say other world same old same old I clean up their messes, I make food, tell the same jokes over and over again, after all this is my hell. Turn around its 6 o'clock the usual batch of slups walk in but there's this glow behind one of them I've never seen this before as I get a better look I realize it's God \" What in the hell are you doing here?!?\" I ask rather rudely. God says in a voice that's strong yet, sweet, soft, yet firm. I've seen you do this for what would seem like an eternity deal but it's only a blink of the eye for God you toil day in and day out night after night without rest or relaxation you have done this for the last Thousand Years I'm here to take you to heaven for your punishment is over it's time to join on your friends and family who have made it. I stand there and cry with joy and hand God a drink its gone in seconds and as God drinks the last gulp I see his forked it the devil playing his god damn tricks again. -_-",
"An omnipotence walks into a bar...\n\n\"You know, for an atheist, you have a really Christian notion of how karma works,\" said the blond-haired boy, sucking on the piercing in his lip.\n\n\"And by that, I mean you don't know how karma works at all.\"\n\nThe lady in black looked at the boy squarely in the face. The grip on her sazerac tightened. Something smelled strongly of wood.\n\n\"Go to hell,\" she said.\n\n\"Yes, I love it here.\"\n\nThe lady took her drink and disappeared into the din. The boy turned back to nurse his drink. He gazed down at the foam and nothing else in particular, savoring the quietude away from snugs and pool.\n\n\"You shouldn't try to show-up Death, son,\" offered a familiar voice. The boy looked up.\n\n\"That's a terrible thing to call someone,\" he replied to the bartender. She smiled.\n\n\"Like people get to choose,\" she said. \n\n\"How are you, Lucy?\" asked the boy.\n\n\"Doing my part,\" replied the woman, clearing an empty highball from the counter. She was older than the boy remembered, but her eyes were still very green. \n\n\"What are you doing back in town?\" Lucy asked. The boy spun his beer on its coaster with his hands. \n\n\"My stuff. I came to get my stuff,\" came the reply. Lucy noticed hands shaking as they let go of his drink.\n\n\"You know your father's not going to like seeing you,\" warned the woman.\n\n\"He never comes to this part of town,\" replied the boy, turning away.\n\n\"He knows you're back,\" Lucy said, eyes darting around the bar.\n\nThe boy paused. He slowly turned back to stare through Lucy's head into the mirror against the back wall.\n\n\"Always been his business to,\" he quipped nervously to his reflection.\n\n\"Like anyone or anything wasn't his business,\" said the bartender, leaning down to chip ice. \"This town, these people, the worthless dirt we stand on...\"\n\n\"How long?\"\n\n\"His little angels are here,\" Lucy muttered.\n\n\"God fucking damnit,\" cursed the boy under his breath. He took a big swig of his beer, knowing he couldn't do anything else at this point.\n\n\"That's a given,\" said Lucy. \n\n\"Can you help me out?\" the boy begged under his breath. The bartender loaded chips into a shaker and began pouring shots, looking up every so often. His head was slipping down towards the table.\n\n\"That's also a given,\" said Lucy. When she looked back down she saw tears on the bar. After locking on another shaker with a loud smack the bartender brought her calloused fingers over the boy's still shaking hands.\n\n\"You can always count on us assholes and home wreckers, kid,\" said Lucy. The boy looked up, eyes a little puffy. \n\n\"Now keep your head down, shit's about to fly,\" she added.\n\nA sort of gnarled smirk grew on the kid's face."
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[WP] You're a stuffed animal given to a little child to protect them from monsters. Little do they know, monsters actually exist and it's your job to fight them off.
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"The woman pushes the needle through for the last time, sewing up the last of my fur. She's very gentle. Her hands are rough, I see she has been working for a long time. She turns me around and I see her face, smiling. She's happy. She turns me back to my original position, looking at the floor. She's checking her work. I don't know why I'm here.\n\"You'll do. Tom will love you.\"\nTom? What is a Tom? The woman yells, and I hear loud footsteps. Jumping? No, running. This must be the Tom. The Tom has little feet. That's all I can see right now. She pushes me closer to the Tom, and he is screeching. \n\"Honey, mommy made this for you, he will keep you safe at night, and whenever mommy isn't here okay?\" \nThe Tom giggles, and grabs me. He is not as gentle as the woman. I am pushed into some fabric that has something on it.... Honey? The Tom is not clean, but that's okay. I'm tossed in the air, and the Tom catches me. This happens many times, I'm starting to get dizzy. He is small, with a loud laugh. The Tom has no teeth. How does he defend himself?\nHe doesn't. He can't.\nThat is why I'm here. This is my purpose; to protect the Tom. \nHours go by, while the Tom plays games with me, force feeds me, and makes me drink imaginary liquids in small cups. The bright ball in the sky isn't there anymore, and it's dark now. \n\"Tom, honey, it's time for bed! Mommy will tuck you in.\" \nThe Tom starts to cry. Is he scared? Why? \nThe woman picks him up and holds him close. \n\"You have Teddy now. I promise, he'll take care of you. The monsters can't get you anymore.\"\nTeddy? Have I been given a name? Teddy. I like the sound of that. \nThe Tom isn't crying anymore, and he hugs me. He makes me feel safe. I have to do the same for him.\nWe are brought to another room, there are plastic toys everywhere, and a small bed. We are \"tucked in\" as the woman called it, and I am warm. This is nice. The woman kisses the Tom on his cheek, and pats my head. \n\"I love you, Tom. Sweet dreams.\"\nThe door closes, and there is no light left, except for a small blue light ball on the wall. It looks like the light ball in the sky outside. \n\"Hi Teddy\"\nThe Tom speaks words! I wish I could respond. \n\"Teddy, night-night.\" \nGoodnight, little Tom. I promise I'll keep you safe.\nThe Tom breathes deep. I think he is asleep already. I hear something below me. Growling? Snarling? What is this? Is this another Tom? \nI hear something moving on the floor. I slowly get up, and peek over the bed. I see long legs, red eyes, and sharp teeth. This is not a Tom. This is a... Monster? This is what I'm here for. I need to get the Monster away from my Tom. I look and see a small toy under the blue light in the wall. I must get there. I hop off the bed as quietly as I can, and make my way to the light. I pick up the toy, and hear the Monster growling behind me. \n\"HAHAHA.... YOU THINK YOU CAN PROTECT THE BOY?\"\nThe Monster speaks too. He wants to hurt the Tom. I must stop him. I hold the toy, it has a sharp end. \n\"YOU CAN'T..... HURT ME.... WITH THAT LITTLE THING, BEAR.... I'D THINK THE WOMAN WOULD BE SMARTER.... AFTER THE LAST PROTECTOR.....RETIRED.\"\nThe Monster snarls, and starts to run towards the Tom. I run as fast as I can, and jump onto his back. He screeches, and the Tom sits up. \n\"TEDDY!\"\nHe looks at me. He knows I'm alive? Does he see the Monster?\n\"SNAKE MAN! TEDDY!\"\nSnake Man? Is this what the Monster is called? The Snake Man throws me off his back, tucks his legs into his body, and begins to slither up the dresser next to the Tom's bed. I look around, I see a small rope. I tie the end into a circle, and throw it at Snake Man. It wraps around his neck, and I pull. Snake Man falls off of the dresser, back down to the floor. I am ready. I must protect the Tom.\n\"TEDDY! GET SNAKE MAN!\" \nThe Tom starts to cry. I must hurry. I take my sharp plastic toy and jump onto Snake Man. \n\"YOU.... CANNOT... DEFEAT ME...BEAR.\" \nI tighten the rope on his neck, and I put the sharp plastic into his eye. \n\"RRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAGGHHHHHHHHHH!!! GET... OFF OF ME...\"\nSnake Man struggles, and tosses me off again. He slithers out of the rope, and tries to escape into the closet. I can't let him get away. I grab the rope and sharp plastic, and run to Snake Man. I throw the rope and again, it is around his neck. I pull as hard as I can. \n\"TEDDDDYYYYYYYY!!!\"\nThe Tom is scared. I must hurry. I love the Tom. The Tom needs to sleep. \nSnake Man is struggling again, and I run to him and ready my sharp plastic.\n\"YOU... ARE.. SMART... BEAR...UNTIL... NEXT.. TIME....\" \nSnake Man turns into a black...thing... a cloud? I will see Snake Man again. He isn't gone. Snake Man will come back the next night. \nThe Tom claps and giggles. \n\"TEDDY!!! YAY!!!\" \nI hop back up to the bed, next to the Tom.... No, MY Tom. My Tom hugs me tight. \nThis is my purpose. This is my duty. I will protect my Tom until I retire. \n\nI am my Tom's protector.\n\n\n"
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[WP] Space Wizards
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"Magic was easily accessible upon the whole of the Earth once. Dragons, elves, potions, items imbued with power, spell tomes. It was a knowledge that was so commonplace, children would weave bags and jackets of holding in their spare time just to boast how much they could make them hold.\n\nThen the plagues came upon the humans. Why they attacked only us, we still don't know. Sicknesses that defied the commands of spell and crystal. Boils and rash that did not smooth with the sip of an alchemist's elixer. Select few of these awful pestilences actually fed upon magical energies. Thus began the Age of Fear and Darkness.\n\nAs Fear and Darkness spread, the distrust of magic to help people spread with them. Entire great libraries were set ablaze, cities were seized and their temples razed almost overnight. As the first decades wore on, practitioners of arcane arts went from shunned to exiled to hunted. Family lines more prone to magicians were wiped from record and, if discovered, existence itself.\n\nAfter the first century, native creatures with natural magic like centaurs and dragons were all but extinct on Earth. Access to the parallel realms -- Gods, Dwarves, Elves, Farie, and such -- were severed from humanity for fear the half-humans of their races would mutate the human plagues. The other races were just as brutal to their half-humans as humans were to magicians. Those that could escape came to Earth to join the Magi nomads.\n\nWe roamed, hunted and scorned for millennia, until a prophecy came nigh. The Supreme God would give magic another chance to take root on the Earth. He bestowed miraculous conception upon a virgin. When stories spread, the Magi went to work in secret to give this child a chance to live and flourish. They brought him lavish gifts, only to find his family low caste. This actually made it easier to hide the family, since those who still hunted the supernatural were looking for pomp and circumstance (like the Magi were at first). After the boy would finish his day labors, his evenings were spent being educated of his divine nature and the power that it provided.\n\nWhen he was finally able to commune with his Father alone, the Magi faded back into nomadic obscurity, awaiting the day the now man would begin his rise against the powers that be. They watched as he honed his art for 10 years. He mastered healing, command of the elements, and transmutation first, staying completely away from combat.\n\nHis last 3 years are well documented, at least as correctly as humans document their history. The final outcome got a little more fudged. After a 3 day divine intervention prayer by the entire Magi tribe, accompanied by some of their new discipleship, The Supreme God saw fit to restore his son's life.\n\nDuring his first and final month back, he drew more attention back to magic than he ever did in his first life. It was plain to the Hunters that magical entities were making a return to Earth. When it became apparent that war was upon our people, the Son of God devised a plan. We would leave the Earth, though stay in this existential plane.\n\nThose that chose to stay were hunted and slaughtered in varied ways until only a handful remained in hiding. We built our fortress on the moon as magic fizzled on Earth to but tiny embers of the fires that once burned. We watched a hundred generations come and go, fudging or forgetting all but a few stories of our vast history.\n\nWe survive by transmuting rocks into atmosphere, food, drink, and caverns to call home. We preserve what knowledge we have left and have begun repairing the lost connections to the parallel realms. We have launched ourselves into the void to find new places to settle. There are established settlements on every stable rock from Mercury to Pluto.\n\nYou want to know why the scientists are looking so hard at moon after moon, planet after planet? They're looking for magic.\n\nThey're trying to extinguish it for good.",
"EU (Nasuverse)\n\n\"Shitty Dead Apostles!\"\n\n\"Idiotic Magi!\" \n\nA flurry of attacks clashed across the surface of the Moon. Some distance away, a man in a suit stood on the surface of the Moon, watching the battle. \n\nHe wasn't dressed in a space suit. It was a proper gentleman's suit complete with a half-cloak and a rather dapper cane, if he'd say so himself. \n\n\"You know, this isn't quite like what I'd imagined it would be.\" said his companion. \n\nShe tilted her head. An agonized expression of utter fury crossed her face as the stupidity occuring in front of her burned deep into her skull. \n\n\"Oh? Were you expecting more explosions? Maybe a spaceship or two would liven things up?\" \n\n\"No! Why aren't they doing anything other than flapping at each other?!\" \n\nHe cleared his throat, grinning, \"Well that is because magic in your dimension doesn't work very well away from humanity's literal sphere of influence. They are using all their prana just to keep themselves alive in the darkness of space. Secondly,\" he paused for a long time. \n\nShe crossed her arms and stared at him sullenly. \"What?\" \n\nHe grinned widely at her. \"Magi suck at using machines. They can't even imagine any other way to attack each other.\" \n\nHe stood back grandly, admiring the flush on her face as she remembered the last time someone had said that to her. It was that boy she always liked, he recalled.\n\nMagi really sucked at using technology. Poor girl didn't even know what BluRay was. Would Magi even know how to operate spaceships or even spacesuits? Could they even get up to the Moon in the first place without his intervention? Highly doubtful. \n\n\"That's it!\" She announced at last after a long moment of thought, \"I'll do it! I'll become a magus who knows how to use all the machines! I'll use magic in space...without your help.\" \n\n\"You'll become a magical space witch?\" he suggesed gleefully. \n\n\"Don't make it sound so childish!\" "
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