Split (1)

train · 199k rows

post_text stringlengths 0 17.5k	post_title stringlengths 8 314	comment_texts listlengths 1 74	num_stories int64 1 74
	[WP] It's a post apocalypse, but the people in this suburb still have block parties, hang out, borrow sugar from one another, etc.	[ "The walls they built were sound. They knew what was coming. Instead of retreating into their own homes, the good people decided to be better together. The underground pantry system works well, people take what they are allotted weekly. There are groups that hunt in the surrounding areas for the animals that made it. At either end there are vegetable gardens and greenhouses that are tended to by the community. Each family takes turns being responsible for the livestock that is kept in a small barns around the estate. Children are allowed to come see the new litters of baby pigs, lamb, and calves being born so they can learn how to birth them when they are older. A creek runs behind one row of houses, it is a job to keep it filtered and fresh. ", "Trish left their hovel underneath several layers of sand and soil to the Patterson's a block away. Her skin-tight U.V.S. kept her protected from the immense heat radiating from the sky, and from the disease infested dusty red sand she walked through. The filter on her back inhaled the humidity filled air and ejected crisp, cool air into her helmet. In her hand she held a U.V. protected, triple-layered box, in which was a measuring cup. She needed some flour for the pancakes she planned to make her husband for breakfast.\n\nShe knocked on the Patterson's hovel and waited a few moments. A slab was thrown back in the black door, revealing two blue eyes.\n\n\"Heya Bob, can I borrow some flour? I know amenities are tight this time of the year and all, but we're really hankering for some homemade pancakes.\"\n\n\"Yeah, sure, no problem.\" He said, opening another hole in the door. \"Just put it in. Anything else you need? Milk? Eggs? Sugar?\"\n\n\"Nope, nothing else. Thank you for the offer though.\" She said as she placed the box into the hole, then the hole closed.\n\n\"You going to the block party tomorrow?\" Bob shouted from inside, his voice muffled by the sand and soil.\n\n\"Yeah!\" Trish replied, raising her voice enough to be heard through the abrupt harsh winds, sending waves of red sand move around and over her. \"I'm making lasagna! What about Steffany? What she making?\"\n\n\"Oh, you know, the usual — fruit salad. Blegh!\" Bob said as he opened the hole again, the box inside as if it was never moved. The slab was thrown back again. \"Between you and me Trish, I'm getting sick and tired of fruit salad. I know fruit's hard to come by and I know it's considered a speciality now, but Jesus do I not want to spend another meal shoveling that goop into my mouth.\"\n\nTrish removed the box and closed the hole. \"Have you brought it up to Steff?\"\n\n\"God no, can you imagine what she'd do?\"\n\n\"Honestly's the best policy, Bob.\"\n\n\"Yeah, I know but. . . sleeping outside isn't something I particularly like to do.\" He said, then they both laughed.\n\n\"Well, okay Bob, I gotta' go. Michael is probably in a tiffy without his breakfast by now. I'll see you tomorrow.\" Trish said while she turned, waved and walked back to her hovel.\n\n\"Bye!\" Bob said from behind the door, then closed the slab." ]	2
	[WP]Instead of trying to kill Harry as a baby, Voldemort just killed his parents and abducted him. Tell me the story of Harry raised by Voldemort.	[ "\"You have lost, bow before me and you will be spared\" Lord Voldemort exclaimed triumphantly in front of Hogwarts' courtyard. \n\nMost of the defenders stood, defiantly, still with hopes of victory. Dumbledore has died assassinated by the basilisk in the chamber of secrets, the order of the Phoenix were hunted down one by one. Hogwarts the last bastion with defenses that lasted for centuries was bought down in an afternoon by a couple of 16 year old and a old closet. Yet the defenders still stood, with false hope in their eyes. Voldemort is going to crush it completely. He glided amongst his prisoners stopping upon Sirius Black.\n\n\"Ah Sirius my old enemy, how many of my death eaters have you taken down?\" Voldemort said in a sneer\n\n\"12, I believe, and you better kill me now, because I will escape Azkaban and kill 12 more\" Sirius breathed in rage\n\n\"Gryffindor to the end, you truly honored the name of your house\" Voldemort said sarcastically, \"but come let me show you the true reward of bravery\"\n\nVoldemort beckoned to his group of death eaters and a single cloaked figure came to his side.\n\n\"Allow me to present, my favorite son, Harry... Voldemort\" Voldemort said as he raised his hand to remove the death eater's mask.\n\nSirius's eye widened, \"no!, it can't be, James, Lily! you... You took their son!\"\n\n\"Yes Sirius\" Voldemort whispered in his ears, \"I took your future and bent it to my own, ironic is it not, to have your best friend's only child be the instrument of your destruction.\n\n\"you mean, he opened the vanishing closet?\" Sirius exclaimed, \"He opened the Chamber of Secrets?\"\n\n\"Yes\" exclaimed Voldemort, \"an now he will be your death\"... \"do it\"\n\n\"Crucio\" Harry exclaimed, as Voldemort cracked a smile, yes he always did like to play with his food before eating it. \n\nSirius withered and screamed in agony rolling on the floor, it was a whole 10 minute before Harry grew bored and simply said \"avada Kedavra\"\n\nAs the spell hit, Sirius looked up at him, not in rage or hatred but pity, \"Harry,\" he exclaimed, \"you have your mother's eyes\" and he fell to the floor. \n\nMost of the prisoners either bowed or died, Bellatrix was extremely eager to find the son of the Longbottoms. Harry did not take part in the slaughter, instead he retreated to the Slytherin dungeon with the image of Sirius's last word burned into his mind. \n\nHis mother... This was the first the anyone said anything about his mother. For 11 years of his life he was raised by his father, not once did he bring up his mother. Afterwards in Hogwarts he was focused on undermining its defenses and the assassination of the headmaster, that point was never bought up. Only in Professor Snape's office, did Snape let his mother's name slip, Lily Potter. Yes Snape knew about his mother, he will tell me the truth or he will die. ", "He stared at the crying child in the crib. He could never stand the wails of little ones, even back at that filthy muggle orphanage.\n\nHe stared at the child, the one who could be his undoing. The one who he intended to kill; the parents, well, they were just bonuses, too foolish to step aside, too foolish to bend to the will of the greatest wizard in all of history. As he stared, wand raised and ready to smite the child down, a strange feeling swelled up inside him. Surely, it was not pity. Pity was for the weak. No, it was intrigue. He had pushed magic beyond it's normal abilities, he had created multiple horcruxes, he was skills beyond all others. Maybe, just maybe, this boy could be yet another experiment, rather than another body to add to the countless others...\n\nJust under 10 years had passed since that chilly October night, and all seemed well. The muggle idea of nature versus nurture was not a stupid idea after all; they were bound to get something right once in a while. Harry (Lord Voldemort decided to keep the boy's name, as the child was accustomed to it) was none the wiser to his beginnings with mudblood and blood traitor parents. His magic appeared far before the age of 7, and with Lord Voldemort as a father, he was encouraged to practice, to experiment. His aunt Bellatrix had been assisting him in his education since he could speak. With no Statute of Secrecy, with Wizards in control, there was no fear of reprisal, though plenty of Muggles to practice his skills on.\n\nLord Voldemort sat in the Great Hall of Hogwarts, Minister of Magic and guest of honor, next to the aging Severus Snape, Hogwarts Headmaster, and thought of the great skills his son possessed, his learned ability to speak Parseltongue, and how nurture, if you can call it that, ensured that the boy would follow in his footsteps rather than be his demise. As they sat, waiting for the sorting to begin (the four houses kept as a way to see who may be troublesome), Lord Voldemort knew all was well.\n\nAs young Harry stepped up to the stool, a queer sense of pride filled the Dark Lord. Harry put on a ragged, torn hat.\n\"Gryffindor!\" exclaimed the Sorting Hat.\n\nLord Voldemort sat, astounded, fear and rage building, as Harry, shoulders slumped and looking defeated, sat at the Gryffindor table next to a spindly, freckled redhead, also a first year. Harry cast a glance to the Slytherin table, where he felt he belonged, and gave his lifelong friend Draco an apologetic smile.\n\nMaybe this was par for the course, thought Lord Voldemort. Upbringing can't change everything, as he himself knew. The damage was not done yet. Still, an unsettling feeling swept over the Dark Lord.\n\nAll, perhaps, was not well.", "Harry Riddle had always felt a bit like a bird in a cage. He was well cared for, certainly - always provided the finest clothes and instruments, never hungry, never ill - but he could not help but feel cut off in some strange way. It was as if some invisible barrier existed. It kept Harry safe, but it also meant he was never truly free. And that only got worse as he got older.\n\nIt didn't help that his father became only more distant as Harry grew older. As a small child, Harry could remember his father - his great, powerful lord of all wizards father - engaging with him. Not playing - the Lord Voldemort never played - but spending easy time in the boy's company, listening patiently to Harry childish babble, tolerating his clumsy destruction. He had never been an especially warm father, but he had been there, and for young Harry, that had been plenty.\n\nBut then Harry got older and Voldemort's attitude toward the boy seemed to shift. He became increasingly wary, easily irritated, colder, farther and farther away. He seemed for all the world to deeply distrust the young boy, still not a teenager. Harry couldn't figure why. The servants and attendants would say nothing. Even Draco, Harry's closest friend, seemed to pretend that nothing strange was happening.\n\n\"He's a great man,\" Draco would say, as an answer to any and all of Harry's concerns. \"A great, great man.\"\n\nWhen Draco went off to school, Harry stayed behind. \"Why?\" Harry would ask his father. But Voldemort refused to provide an answer.\n\n\"He's a great man,\" Draco said that morning at the train station, as Harry helped him push a trolley heavy with books, cauldrons, and robes out to the platform. \"Just trust that there's a reason.\"\n\nBut there never seemed to be. Rather than going to school, Harry was instead subject to all manners of tests. Strange, northern wizards and witches from abroad would come to the Voldemorts' grand castle and examine Harry, muttering darkly under their breath. \n\n\"Well?\" Voldemort would say. To which the wizards and witches would all reply, \"There's nothing to do done. It's a spell with no counter.\"\n\nOf course no one would tell Harry what they were looking for or what was wrong with him.\n\nOne day, Voldemort was meeting with many of his top lieutenants to discuss their expansion across the Asian territory. Harry saw Rookwood and Ms. Lestrange, neither of whom had ever been the least bit kind to him. There was Draco's father, who never seemed to be at ease, no matter where he was. There was pleasant, little Mr. Pettigrew, who Harry quite liked. He was less intimidating than the others and always showed great kindness to Harry...though Harry could not help but notice how that kindness always seemed undercut by a strange kind of sadness, as if Mr. Pettigrew were always just on the brink of tears.\n\nAnd, of course, as always, there was Mr. Snape, who Harry had never liked and suspected he never would. That was because he had often overheard Snape speaking to Voldemort, suggesting that Harry be sent away - that he did not belong at his father's right hand and that nothing good would come of Harry's presence. Why he hated Harry, Harry had no idea. Neither did Draco, who had freely admitted that he did not like Snape either, though for quite different reasons.\n\n\"He can't be trusted,\" Draco had said. \"My father's told me stories. I don't know why Lord Voldemort trusts him like he does, but you shouldn't.\"\n\nSo at the end of the meeting that evening, when Harry found himself cornered by that very Snape, he was on his guard.\n\n\"What do you want?\"\n\nSnape's eyes were still and nearly blank, as if whatever emotions he may have been capable of feeling had been cast away through dark magic. Without a word, the older wizard snatched up the young boy's hand, pressing the tip of his wand into the boy's palm. Harry started to cry out, but after a brief flash of light, it was over.\n\n\"When you feel ready...\" said Snape, carefully choosing his words. \"When you realize that this life is not the one you were meant for... go there. You'll find your answers there.\"\n\nHarry was dumbfounded. He said nothing as Snape stormed out of the room. It was only once alone that Harry held his palm up to the light. At first he saw nothing, but then two words appeared, hovering just above the flesh:\n\nGODRIC'S HOLLOW\n\nThe words meant nothing to Harry, but the moment did.\n\n\"The life I was meant for...?\" \n\nHarry Riddle was 11 years old and everything was soon to change.", "Harry groaned as he rose on the morning of his eleventh birthday, not wanting to leave the comfort of his black bedsheets. He spared himself a glance out at the murky sky, before heading down the magnificent staircase of the Voldemort household. His father had decided the conquest of both the Ministry and Hogwarts on the same night - deserved a little celebration, so he had shattered Gamp's Laws of Elemental Transfiguration to construct an essential palace out of nothing. Step by step, Harry felt his weariness be steadily replaced by excitement for the upcoming day. It was his birthday! He was finally eligible to attend school and meet other kids.\n\nBecause, of course, Harry had never had a friend in his life. He knew that his parents had been murdered by Severus Snape, the leader of the feeble Resistance, and that Voldemort had taken him in to spare him death at Snape's hands as well. As he reached the bottom of the stairs, a cloaked butler straightened up at attention and addressed him: \"Does my Lord Harry require anything on his special day?\"\n\nHarry gave a soft smile at the man - Lucius, he thought - but didn't respond. He knew that these men were inferior to him in every way, and he didn't feel like allowing the man to feel equal to him with a polite answer. He continued down the hallway, portraits of Salazar Slytherin and of his father decorating the walls. Kreacher waited for him at the dining room, a letter in hand.\n\n\"This is from your father,\" the house elf croaked. \"He is wishing Master Potter good joy on his birthday, and is asking when Master Potter wants to go shopping for Hogwarts.\" \n\nHarry took the letter, feeling an odd sense of happiness. Long had his father spoke of the beauties of Hogwarts, of the bravery of his noble ancestor Slytherin. He had bragged about the purity of the halls, and the glory of the teacher. As son of the headmaster of the school, Harry had known he would get in - but the actual prospect of buying his supplies was especially happy.\n\n--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------\n\nThat evening, Harry and his father strolled down the streets of Voldemort Alley, having gotten all their supplies without paying a cent. Nobody wanted to charge the man who had allowed them to live and continue their professions. As Harry admired his shiny new possessions - which included the latest model of the Nimbus broomsticks - his father stopped him short. \n\n\"Harry, I want you to have this.\" Voldemort said unsmiling, holding out a black diary. \"This was mine back in school. If you ever need to communicate with me, simply write what you mean to say, and I will answer. I must warn you, however - do not get too attached to this book. Spilling your emotions into it will only have negative consequences for the both of us.\"\n\nHarry smiled as he took his birthday gift from his father. A diary was unconventional, but still nonetheless a good present. He stored it in his gold cauldron, shouldered his green robes, and continued on his way with his father in tow.\n\n\nIn a darkened pub down the street, a large, burly man stood camouflaged against the shadows. He watched the exchange between father and son with a frown morphing his scarred face. His black trench coat fluttered in the breeze. His eyes widened suddenly at the sight of the diary, as he fingered the fabled sword of Godric Gryffindor that rested in the scabbard at this hip. \n\n\"Soon...\" muttered Rubeus Hagrid.\n" ]	4
	[WP] Vincent Van Gogh and Edgar Allan Poe meet you at the Pearly Gates. Poe says, "You're invited to the Too Late club, for people who only became famous after their death. And by the way, it totally sucks."	[ "The line set me back, reeling in disbelief. \n \nWhat did I do? \n \nI thought back to my life. It had seemed like such a tiny, unimportant thing. Standing in front of two men I had admired beginning in Middle School and having them say that my life had been remembered at all was flattering. \n\n\"But what for?\" \n\nEdgar looked at me incredulously and Vincent rolled his eyes. \n\n\"Was it my writing?\" \n\nVincent shook his head. \n \n\"My art?\" \n\nEdgar glared at me, snorting while shaking his head. \n\n\"Music?\" \n\n\"Oh God no!\" Vincent laughed uncontrollably at the thought. \n \n\"What then?\" I asked excitedly. My lips curled into a smile at the thought that the people below me were probably reading about me in history books right now. \n\n\"Your death.\" Edgar said solemnly. \n \n\"My death?\" \n\n\"Don't you remember?\" Vincent asked. \n\n\"Well, no, not really.\" I answered. \n\nEdgar pulled out a medium sized phone and pulled up a Buzzfeed article. \n\n\"Woman Dies During Orgasm While Giving Partner a Blow Job.\" \n\n\"It's been shared over 300 million times. Somebody said that your husband is going to get royalties for using your death as a plot line for any future work of fiction.\" Edgar said, bluntly. \n\nfuck\n\n\n \n", "Passing through the Gates was just a formality. I found myself in a lovely garden, wondering who the many other people were who were meandering about. Two old-fashioned looking gentlemen, who seemed vaguely familiar, approached me. \n\n“Welcome,” said the poorly-dressed man with the scruffy reddish beard. “I am Vincent Van Gogh. We are here to greet you specifically.”\n\n“Wow, I’m a tremendous admirer of your work! But why me specifically?”\n\nThe dark gentleman with the neat black mustache, neat but threadbare suit, and the haunted eyes spoke. “We are here to induct you into the Too Late Club. The membership is comprised of people like us who achieved fame only after their deaths. I regret to inform you that membership in this club is not particularly enjoyable.”\n\n“Wait, this has to be a joke, right? Or a mistake. There’s no way I can ever become famous. I was a civil engineer.”\n\n“Oh, trust us, it’s no mistake,” said the disheveled artist. “There are many such clubs, which were set up by the Father to help people reflect on their lives with kindred souls. See that group over there by the fountain? That’s the Not Soon Enough Club. They achieved fame in their lifetimes but then pissed it all away.”\n\n“Your language, Vincent,” tsked Poe. \n\nI looked over at the group, mostly well dressed but looking as unhappy as Poe and Van Gogh. I thought I recognized Tiger Woods and F. Scott Fitzgerald. “But what’s the purpose of being in this club if I’m not famous yet?”\n\n“You can look down and observe your heirs and the fate of your works, and understand the spirit, whether benevolent or malevolent, that directed your life,” said Poe.\n\n“Starting now,” said Van Gogh. They led me to a tiny pool and told me to look into the water. I didn’t expect much. What works could they possibly be talking about?\n\nIt took a while for me to perceive any images in the pool. Eventually I realized I was seeing the ongoing lives of my family. It was painful watching them grieve, and tedious watching the probate process and my wife selling our house to move to Florida. But I still couldn’t imagine what my fellow club members were talking about. \n\nOne day I watched my son sit down at my computer. He clicked on the Reddit bookmark and my user name popped up. “Great!” I heard him say. “I know Dad liked the Jokes page. I wonder what else he was into.”\n\nI was a bit concerned. Poe had warned me that membership in the Too Late Club was not a good thing. I went looking for him with a few questions, but couldn’t find him and returned to my pool an hour later. As the pool cleared, I saw my son still at the computer, fully engrossed.\n\nIn a moment he spoke. “This is amazing. Dad’s done a zillion of these Writing Prompts! I can totally publish these!”\n" ]	2
	[WP] The heat is regularly above 100°F in the U.S now, and the phrase 'to sweat bullets' is now a real thing. In a worldwide crisis of an AK47 ammo shortage, the US decides to cut down on obesity by drafting large men to do nothing but physical exercise to produce the bullets to aid the soldiers.	[ "“JOHNSTON! We need more ammo!”\n\nBlake was under heavy fire, shouting at Brody from across the clearing. Brody had sprinted ahead during a lull in the crossfire, but there was no way Brody could keep up. \n\nBrody had to do it though. As an elite member of the 12th Ground Squad it was his duty to sweat enough bullets for his platoon.\n\nBrody braced himself for the long 15 meters ahead of him without cover when – \n\nWHIIIIiiiiizzzzzz!\n\n“Sniper!” Brody shouted to Blake. This was bad. They had been separated from the rest of the Squad. Brody had to keep his cool. He may have been the token fat guy, but he was still a soldier dammit!\n\nBrody quickly took one of his canteens off his belt. He quickly chugged the contents to stay hydrated and loaded his AK47 with his own sweat, which was now generously pooling under his arms from the threat of the sniper.\n\nHe tossed his canteen out into the open, where moments before he was about to sprint. At the same time, he popped his head up over his cover, rifle ready.\n\nPOW!\n\n-the canteen exploded into shrapnel –\n\n-but Brody was looking-\n\nTHERE! A faint, but gleaming flash from the enemy’s sniper scope.\n\n“Blake! 100 meters, 11 o’clock!”\n\nBlake gave him a nod accompanied by a stern look of duty. Brody knew what was next.\n\n“3… 2… 1… NOW!”\n\nBrody began to sprint, while at the same time Blake peeked over his cover towards the sniper.\n\n-Brody began to run-\n\n-and he heard bullets behind him-\n\n-and in front of him-\n\n-because Blake was firing-\n\nBrody rushed behind Blake’s cover, almost collapsing on top of him.\n\n“Got that son’ bitch! Looks like you arrived just in time too!” Blake took out his empty clip and began to reload. “You’re a lifesaver Brody!”\n\n“I guess that makes us even then. Now let’s get back to the Squad!” The two soldiers reloaded their weapons.\n" ]	1
	[WP] You are a superhero with a power so incredibly destructive that there is no way you can use it without obliterating yourself and our planet. Tell me about the time you finally decide to use it.	[ "The first time I noticed I was different was on July 16, 1945.\n\nMy name was Adam.\n\nI was walking the hills outside my home town of Alamagordo New Mexico, early in the morning. Unable to sleep I roamed the hills looking for a way to quiet the bees in my head. \n\nThe War was on. My mother had given all her stockings, our rations, and her time to the war only to find she had given her son to the war as well. When the telegram came she couldn’t bring herself to read the damned thing, it was the first time I had seen her cry. Father sat in the den, his uniform from the last great war entombed behind him, a Lucky Strike hanging loose in his mouth. The times he moved were only to replace the cigarette that burned his lips and replace it with another one. I never saw him move again, not even when they came to take me away.\n\nAt twelve I had no idea how to handle the news. My brother was gone. My nineteen-year-old brother was gone, leaving his pregnant wife behind. Leaving me behind.\n\nOut in the desert I did the only thing I could think of, I started to scream. I was sad and angry in a way that only a child can be; Pure and without restraint. I screamed until my lungs hurt and I fell to the sandy floor. I balled my fist, and for the first time in my life I struck the ground.\n\nColors flashed. My world was heat and wind that sounded like the world ending. I watched in horror as the ground around me was devoured and the sky was filled with dust. Once the dust settled I found myself in a field of glass and pain. I peeled myself from the ground that had melted around me and walked toward town in silence.\n\nI went home burned, my cloths turned to cinders, my body covered in ash. My hair, a brittle dusting of black atop my head, littering the path behind me. It wasn’t long before the army was at our door.\n\nWithin days I was strapped to gurneys, my hands tied to my sides, while men in white coats scraped and cut the skin from my body to create the “Last bomb the world will ever make.”\n\nIn their twisted sense of humor, they named the creation the “Atomic Bomb”. They claimed it was to give me credit for the victory of the Allies, but I knew it was so that they never had to admit where the bomb came from. No one could see an atom and, now, no one could see me.\n\nLess than a month later they dropped pieces of me into Japan.\n\nMy mother would write to me. They would always be signed “Love your Mother and Father” though it would always be in my mother’s handwriting. She would praise me for helping to keep our country safe, but I could never get the photographs of shadows out of my head. No matter what she said I felt like a murderer. It only got worse when she died of cancer later that year, I never heard from my father. The dreams of shadows and ghosts haunted me after I was shown the film of destruction in Hiroshima and Nagasaki. \n\nThere were big brothers in those cities. Mothers. Fathers….\n\nOh god, the Children.\n\nSmoking quickly became my only vice, it reminded me of home. Through being moved from place to place to keep me out of “Enemy Hands” I would distract myself by thinking of the time my brother taught me how to play baseball, or the time we stole some of dad’s liquor and stayed up all night. After a while it was easy to forget who was the “Enemy” was and escape into my childhood that somehow felt more real than the existence I was forced to live now.\n\nCountries and Powers would send surgeons in the night to steal my pieces. With every Piece of me that got taken my name would be changed and I would be moved somewhere new. \n\nWhen Russia stole my eyes and teeth I was moved to where they called me Navajo-Kǫ. When France acquired the skin from my back I was moved to one “Secure Location”, and when China took some blood, to another. My names varied from Bravo-Zero-MB, The Prometheus Experiment, And most recently, The Welles Solution.\n\nBy the time Kim Jong Il took control of Korea and allied itself with China and Russia I was already an old man made of more scares than skin. I was quickly running out of body I could “Donate to the cause” and our incompetent President had started planning to euthanize me “Humanly” and harvest what he could.\n\nTo be honest I was ready to die, I was tired of being slowly butchered and forced to live another day just to be cut up and drained again. I was tired of being the cattle that fed our wars.\nThen I heard about my nephew.\n\nHe had fallowed in his father’s footsteps and joined the army, working his way up the ranks until he retired with full honors in Guam with his family. Korea launched its first slice of me and wiped the island off the map. The last bit of my brother was taken from me using my own skin. It was like he died all over again.\n\nIt was in that moment I knew what I needed to do. War was on the horizon while visions of Japan played through my mind. I knew I couldn’t live through that again. It was time for Humanity to run its course.\n\nI broke out of my cell and clawed my way to the top of the highest cliff I could find. In the middle of nowhere I knew the world would end. \n\nFor the first time in years I felt alive. As I jumped I knew I was doing the right thing. My impact will set off every piece they have stolen from me. It would be quick. No one would have time to feel the fire consume them. I felt the world turn beneath me and only had one thought before I hit the ground.\n\nMother nature will find a way to heal itself. Maybe next time a species rises to power they will see the glass and shadows of our generations and learn from the mistakes we have made.", "My name is Thomas James Carmac. I used to be a superhero, but now I simply reside within the timeless void of nothingness. I was known across the world as the Paladin, someone who upheld justice and eradicated evil. But my power led to the destruction of the planet and God knows how much of the universe. This is my account of what led to that small blunder. \n\nIt had been over a hundred years since I gained this power. I can channel the energy surrounding the planet into a giant blast, capable of creating a black hole. This would however result in the destruction of the world and sometimes myself along with it. Thus, I swore only to use this power if something so powerful, so dangerous, appeared that no military could defend against it.\n\nI did test the power from time to time, dabbling in energy this world provides and the energy of the life that exists on it. At first, I stopped a robbery. Caused a small time-space distortion in the vault and killed the robbers. However, this distortion consumed the bank, and as a result the bank was no more, and I was caught inside the distortion. It took me 3 months to create a new body to return to reality, which is an ordeal I'd rather not experience again.\n\nNext I thwarted an attempt to assassinate the president of the United States... By killing him myself. A terrorist group managed to infiltrate the white house, so I used my power to consume it into whatever abysmal void lays on the other side of the black hole. Thankfully this took place a couple dozen years after the bank incident so I had learned some mastery of my power by then, due to some minor events not worth noting here. However, I engulfed the building, killing everyone inside. I then using said skill in this power to forcibly pull the President out of there. \n\nWell, he was terrified, confused and broken after he thought he had died, feeling an excruciating pain as his body was ripped asunder, only to return to life sat in the crater that was once the white house with no conceivable scientific explanation for what happened to him, and would probably still be in counselling for what he witnessed that day if the world wasn't destroyed. \n\nThe last event, the one that ended up destroying the planet and everything on it, was when I used it to stop my arch nemesis, Geoffrey, or as he called himself for his villainous activities, Godfrey. \n\n10 years ago, he learned of my power and also managed to somehow obtain it. Well, instead of upholding peace and justice, he went on a massive decade of destruction. Not quite enough to demolish the world or destabilise the space-time continuum, but enough to get whatever he wanted whenever he wanted it. It was the last fight he awoke to our powers' full potential.\n\nI confronted him, in the streets of London, after aimlessly chasing him for for the past 7 years. He was cornered, a void behind him and death ahead of him. Nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. \n\nIf he used his power to rip a wormhole out of here, I would crush it and kill him while he's inside. If he tried to confront me, he'd be met with overwhelming force. If he tried to escape down the street behind him he would simply run through into a black hole I placed there to trap him. It was then I witnessed a blinding light I had not seen since I assimilated control of reality. I knew he now possessed the power to destroy the universe if he so desired. He however was so naive he only realised he had enough power to destroy the world. \n\n\"Godfrey! I demand you stand down now, else I will obliterate you with overwhelming force!\" I called out. I hoped his new power had made him more aware of his situation.\n\n\"You really think you can beat me, you fool? No matter what you do, I will persevere. And after I deal with you, this world is done for!\" He replied. At this point I will admit, I was rather stupid and arrogant myself. As a result, I saw this as a challenge.\n\n\"You want to destroy the world? No... I won't let you! I'll--\" I blurted out, being cut off by a powerful beam striking me through the chest. \"Oh ho, that must've hurt. So what is it that you'll do, Paladin? Come on, don't tell me that killed you! I was beginning to enjoy myself!\" Godfrey shouted. He was so full of himself. What a dick.\n\nA smile came across my face. \"If you think that's enough to take me out you're wrong. And I'll stop you by destroying the planet before you!\" I noticed a small look of both curiosity and terror in my enemy's eyes. \"Don't think I won't. I have the power to rebuild the planet. I can restore the world to its original state, but without you in it.\" \n\nI was lying of course. I can destroy things, but at the time I couldn't create anything. I could pull people or objects out, but dragging out the entire planet would be impossible, and it'd be easier to remake it, since then it could at least be in my image. \n\nWell, this caused Godfrey to pause. Maybe he will back down. Besides, killing him is a waste of his potential. Perhaps I could use him. However that wasn't the case. \"I-I don't care if you can rebuild it! I'll destroy the planet, and I'll do it before you! Bring it on P-Paladin!\" he nervously taunted. He knew I was a stuck up little son of a bitch who never backed down from a challenge, but he was scared that I would suggest such an outlandish idea since Humanity sees me as their saviour. Well, after a few seconds of rather awkward silence, bolts of matter and energy started to rip through the air, destroying everything in its path, and blasts that tore right through the fabric of time also got thrown out. At the end of it all, the space-time continuum became so fragile even the most basic of actions could destroy it. I could sense this after our long and gruelling fight, and I had vowed to obliterate everything before my enemy. \n\nI caused an explosion so powerful it swallowed the planet and created a black hole in its stead. Now this wasn't the best idea, since I'm tired as all hell and it'll be a while before I get any power back to do anything. Oh and I did kind of eradicate all life on earth, along with earth itself. No big deal, I'll rebuild it all eventually. Honestly it is surprising I haven't encountered Geoffrey here, wherever I am, yet. I thought for sure he would be here.\n\nOh well, I'm better off without his company anyway. I'll at least have all the time in the (former) world to recover and train in preparation for creating a new plane of existence.\n\nI guess I should probably learn some self control for next time. If there is one.\n\n\nEdit: This is likely to be a one time story, since while I enjoy creative writing, I'm likely not going to create a sub related to it unless I feel confident enough that people would enjoy the stories. I might one day who knows." ]	2
	[WP] She's a sexy Werewolf secret agent with a secretive past. He's works part time at the local pizza joint and is studying to be a dentist. Together, they tackle who's turn it is buy coffee.	[ "\"and that's game\" he declared loudly as he threw down his hand of cards face up winking at Claudia and finishing his coffee. Claudia squinted her eyes the rules in place, the objective cards and every placed keeper and creeper. That toothy bastard had pulled it off with panache. \"you motherfucker, you sneaky sneaky bastard\" she smiled at Tim brightly and drank her latte. They split the last of the vanilla slice while Tim put the deck together and packed it away.\r\r\"okay well you got it last time I'll pick up the bill\" said Tim as he got up with his wallet and went too the counter. Claudia pulled a face at him, she had already paid and she always did because she could afford it. She was happy to do it for her friend, his companionship was worth the moderate cost in her budget and she knew their taste in coffee was a burden on him.\r\rThe look from the counter told her Tim had worked it out and the words he mouthed really spelled it out.\r\r\rPs: Will get to finishing it after dinner." ]	1
	[WP] Jaxarians are widely considered to be the dumbest sentient species in the galaxy, as they've never talked, even when subjected to the worst ridicule. However, today someone has done something so incredibly stupid that a Jaxarid has broken its species 10,000 year long vow of silence.	[ "Jaxarid. They are rumored to be mute, saying nothing, not even in times of life-and-death danger. They all stand two meters tall and are generally slender, faceless, well-dressed, mysterious, humanoid things, harkening back to an old human horror video game from times long, long ago. Whether they are a hive mind or many singular entities is unknown, as are many other things about their species with the exception of their looks and tacit tendencies. \n \nI wouldn't exactly call them tendencies, though. There's a rumor going around that they made a vow about ten thousand years ago to only speak in matters with galaxy-ending repercussions. This is extremely worrying if you are the captain of a ship with one of them on it, because if they say anything, you know you fucked up big time. This brings me to the issue at hand. \n \nI'm the captain of the Federal Association Ship 405, or what I call the \"Parking Lot,\" as it's basically a moving space station. Two kilometers long, five hundred meters wide, two hundred meters tall, the Parking Lot is a true behemoth, mostly used for trading. So I'm a space version of the Earth's \"long-haul trucker\" people I've read about. But enough about me, my crew is what matters here. We're one thousand strong so I'll skip to the few that matter for this not-so-brief introduction: Karau, a hardworking human from the Sol system, Daisuke, a technologically inclined human from the colonies in the Proxima Centauri System, Fred (that's what we call it), a Jaxarid from who knows where that just does what it's told, and Ruwen, a being from the Crystal realms. The four of them, as well as myself, occupy the bridge with passersby using the bridge as a shortcut to get to the other side of the ship. \n \nNow we're caught up to speed. As of this moment, the main five of us are in the bridge, as I mentioned we usually are, and Karau has just adjusted the Parking Lot back on-course from a diversion, shifting us towards the Sol system for an important fuel delivery. Karau leans back in her chair and sighs in relief, as the adjustment took over three hours. Daisuke stands up to stretch. I sit in my chair. Ruwen plots possible diversion routes incase anything should happen. Fred just sort of stares out of the the bridge window and blows my mind by breaking the rumored vow of silence. \"Captain,\" its voice is deep but smooth, like a good jazz singer's, \"I request we readjust our course once again. Karau has made the most idiotic mistake I've ever seen.\" \n \nThe bridge is silent. Daisuke's jaw might as well be on the floor due to his disbelief, Karau looks offended, Ruwen is… Ruwen, and I'm almost as dumbfounded as Daisuke. \n \n\"Well, what's the issue, then?\" I ask. \n \n\"Karau's course was set for center of Sol rather than to the actual destination.\" Fred answers. \n \n\"Why's that an issue?\" Karau verbally prods Fred for an answer. \n \n\"As of several seconds ago, this ships guidance computer and related systems have locked themselves onto Sol. They cannot be undone without a manual reboot. This will take forty-eight hours. By that time, judging by our current speed, we will be within solar flare distance of Sol. Except we cannot follow through with a manual reboot because the single cereal flake that Karau thought was insignificant seventeen hours ago has gotten into the engine room and activated emergency power supplies for the entire ship.\" Fred responds in its deep, semi-monotone voice. \n \n\"Karau. What did I say on day FUCKING ONE?! NO--\" I yell. \n \n\"—eating in the bridge foods that can cause crumbs…\" Karau finishes. \"I was hungry though!\" \n \n\"Hungry? HUNGRY?! I'VE GONE FIFTY HOURS WITHOUT FOOD NOW BECAUSE OF YOUR CONSTANT COURSE ADJUSTMENTS NEEDING TO BE MONITORED! HELL I DIDN'T EVEN KNOW FRED (if that's even your name) COULD SPEAK!!\" I've lost it. I take a very deep breath and attempt to regain composure. \"Daisuke, Ruwen, start gathering up important supplies and put them in the starboard loading dock. I need to make an announcement.\" \n \n\"Yes, sir.\" Daisuke says, salutes, and then takes Ruwen with him to go start the evacuation of what was once the biggest freighter ever built.", "He looked on in awe, as if he couldn't truly believe the extent of the madness that had befallen the human. It was a truly horrifying, despicable act, that Quo'rin thought no-one to be capable of. He began to speak, innumerable syllables cascading violently from his mandibles mouth, as his two sets of hands filled with purple-orange fire. Yes, the world and sky would be ripped asunder. Yes he would call down the fury of a million Judgements. But this man...this MONSTER... Shouldn't have put milk in his green tea." ]	2
Write about tracking down and capturing illegal time travelers who attempt to implant themselves into alternate timelines. Or not, write whatever calls to you from the void of your inner muse.	[WP] You work for the Temporal Immigration Agency, which tracks and monitors time travelers who move between different timelines.	[ "A young man ran frantically down the street, desperately avoiding the gunshots that exploded around his head. He ducked and dodged as he made his way around a corner, desperately clutching a metal briefcase to his side. When he felt he had a moment of safety, he cracked it open and peeked inside, giving a sigh of relief as he saw that his precious cargo was safe.\n\nFor now, he reminded himself, * it was safe for now. With the enforcer on his tail, it would not be long before he was an smear on the ground and his mission left uncompleted. \n\n\"How the hell is that bastard doing this!?\" he hissed to himself. Weren't the time cops supposed to stop meddling in the timelines? How could they afford to tear up the place like this? He stowed that question away in the back of his mind. Survival first, hypocrisy of enforcement officers later.\n\nA short ways behind him, officer-1302 scanned the streets for any temporal natives. There were none, the support crew would have been doing their jobs well reducing their time footprint. They might be reprimanded later for their itchy trigger ringer, but the clean up crew would remove all signs of their presence.\n\nThe criminal was starting to get exhausted. It would not be long now until they were caught and punished for crimes against the timeline.\n\nThe officer rounded the corner and was greeted by a full auto hail into their chest; the perp was getting desperate.\n\n\"Michael Nohl, you have now added the crime of assaulting an officer of the law onto your list of charges. By doing so you have lost the opportunity of a lighter sentence in return for immediate surrender\".\n\nMichael gasped as he saw the officer continue to approach him, the gun he had illegally obtained failing to penetrate their matte-black armor. The visored helmet stared unwavering at him as the spent shells clattered to the floor. Tossing his gun away, he began sprinting once more, desperate to reach his destination.\n\nThe officer let loose another spray of bullets one of which clipped Michael's shoulder causing him to curse in agony, but still he pressed on. As long as the briefcase was safe, such minor injuries did not matter.\n\nThe chase continued as such, one lean and haggard, sprinting for all they were worth, the other a silent juggernaut, advancing with terrible certainty. Michael's lungs started to feel as if they would explode as he took sharp gasps of air, pushing his body to the absolute limit. Ahead of him he saw a glimmer of light and it lifted his spirits, he was nearly there! If he could just clear this street, he would be somewhere much too public for the officer to do anything, and for the first time in his life he would have won.\n\nBut a few feet before safety, a bullet tore through his knee, sending him crashing to the ground and sending the briefcase sliding along the ground out of reach. He stretched forward, trying to bring it back into the safety of his arms when a mailed boot came down upon his back. The officer stomped, causing Michael to shout in pain and stop reaching for the suitcase. \n\nWith almost contemptuous ease and slowness, the officer picked up the metal case and retrieved the contents, giving them a quick scan.\n\n\"Get your hands off that! You might damage it!\"\n\nThe officer ignored his shout and finished their examination. Identity of contraband confirmed, class A contraband, cure for virus-4805, commonly known as the SuperPox. \n\n\"Michael Nohl, you stand charged for the illegal transport of a Class A item with the intent of use to disrupt the timeline, non-compliance with an officer of the law, assault on an arresting officer, unlawful possession of a grade B firearm and littering involving said firearm, how do you plead?\"\n\n\"Please,\" he began to grovel, \" that's my mom in there. Look, I'll take any punishment you want. I... I know I'm not so good, but she deserves better, a few more years with my siblings\"\n\nThe officer stared at him silently before speaking again, \" The accused has not denied any of the charges against them. They are found guilty. All counts. Commencing sentencing\"\n\n\"What?! No! You ca-\" whatever else he intended to say was cut off as the officer unloaded into the back of his head, killing him instantly. Confirming that he was dead, the officer smashed the syringe in their hand, letting its precious contents drip into the floor.\n\n\" Officer-1302 to dispatch. Situation has been resolved, requesting technicians to remove traces of temporal anomalies and restoration to pre-incursion state\".\n\n\" Copy that 1302. Technicians are inbound now. You are needed in timeline-986. We have identified several possible incursions.\"\n\n\"Acknowledged dispatch. On the way\"\n", "##THE PAINTED PRINCE - PART 1 CONTINUED##\n\n######[](#dropcap)\n\nShe gasped as she saw what the leaf was taking her to, the mottled, warted maw of the moon, face wreathed in angry shadows.\n\nSo very far away from home.\n\nWith a harsh sound of rushing paper, the leaf let go, setting her adrift in the vast, empty void of the nighttime sky. She continued to speed forwards though, the force of gravity welding her to the surface of the moon. With a mild thump, she collided with it, a cloud of moon dust rising in a circle around her.\n\nThis has to be a dream! There is no way I’m on the moon. I’m going crazy. I forgot my meds. I need help.*\n\n“You certainly are quite fine, thank you very much,” a gravelly, sad voice exclaimed.\n\nGeorge stared once more into the shadows, hoping to catch a glimpse and the speaker.\n\n“You cannot see me my dear, so it is silly of you to try,” it exclaimed, an androgynous warble that sounded ancient.\n\n“Why can’t I see you,” she replied.\n\n“I exist here and there and everywhere. Nowhere and now are my favourite times, but then and back are terrible places to be. Now, what can I help you with?”\n\n“What do you mean you exist everywhere and nowhere? For a start, that’s impossible, I’m on the -”\n\n“Excuse me, you are on the Dark Side, not the moon. Secondly, my favourite time is nowhere, and I am everywhere. Thirdly, why do you all ask such stereotypical questions? What, why, how, who etc - can’t any of you think of something original?” It sighed, almost deliberately letting the exasperation creep in. Now, it sounded less like an old man and more like a sullen teenager, tired of the same monotonous question.\n\n“I want to go home.”\n\n“You don’t get a choice in this. It happened, move on with your, um, life. Get a handle on yourself. Explore everything, be cradled in the loving arms of nothing, view memories of others and the sparking lives and deaths you wore.”\n\nThat was the last of the voice George heard before it burst with a pop, the shadows shifting uneasily as it left.\n\nA thin coat of dust covered her now, the grey of broken concrete and distant dreams.\n\nMore questions started to grow and she didn’t know where to start. No answers, no fairness, no judgement or harsh punishment. George didn’t want to admit it, but she felt something hollow again, a broken thing about herself that led from one thing to another.\n\nThe words got caught on her tongue, snagged on her lips. She spat them out though, jumbled and splashed in tears.\n\n“I’m dead,” she whispered, the sound a roaring crowd that screamed and screamed and screamed. Deafening music that crashed against rocks of time and space, a drowning wave that trapped her under it.\n\nHelp she thought.\n\nHELP! HELP ME PLEASE! GOD DAMMIT, SOMEONE HEAR ME! HELPHELPHELPHELPHELPHELPHELPHELHEPHLEPHLEPLHEPLHEPLHPELHEPLHEPLHPELHPELHPELPHLEPLHEPLHPELHPELHPELPHELHELPHELPHLEPLHPELHPELHPELHLEPLHEPLHPELHPELHEPHEPLHLPELHPEHPELPHPLEHLPLHPELHEPLHEPHLEPLHEPLHEPLHEPLHEPLHEPLHPELHPELHPELHHEPL.\n\nHelp.\n\nhelp.\n\nhelp.\n\nGeorge curled into herself, her breaths shallow and weak. The desperate hope rattled and croaked, the distant light of cold, alien stars illuminating her, the dark side of the moon peppered in silver light.\n\nAlone and wishing, hungering once more for life.\n\n\n\n", "##THE PAINTED PRINCE - PART 2##\n\n######[](#dropcap)\n\nShe awoke with a start, her face buried in her arms, smudging the work below.\n\nYen looked down at the sketchbook, the purple paint dripping down as tears, the water stains the gouged eyes, so full of hurt and hate. Those delicate flicks of blue, long, tapering eyelashes that seemed to flutter off the canvas, take a beautiful life of their own. \n\nThe girl looked up at her with painted eyes, so empty and lost.\n\nThe bell rung out, shattering the half-formed illusion. With the scraping of books and rustling of chairs the painting fell away, shoved into the deep recesses of her artbook. Walking out, she stood patiently in wait for the bus, with its gaudy yellow smile and black tears that streaked behind it. That, and for the clever old smile of the deformed graffiti carved into the windows. And maybe, just maybe, the pure babble of smoke and rubber and human chatter, a little piece that managed to fit in the hollow ache inside her.\n\nWhen she stepped inside it and leant her face against the glass, the claw marks that scarred it traced across her face, she was glad, and for that she cried tears of joy, lost in the gentle thrum of the bush and thankful, merciful ignorance of the others.\n\nHer sister had died 6 years ago, far, far away from her. Her life cut short with silver scissors. That was what she liked to whisper to herself as she slept, but in truth it was the gnashing, woeful beep of a life support button.\n\nLike that lost autumn, her sister was caught in the wind and spun away, far, far away from this cruel and dirty place.\n\nYen began to cry harder, the sadness a close companion, faithfully at her side like a big black dog, their rancid breath against her neck. Slobbering unwanted kisses, suffocating upon her chest, clawing and pawing at her for more of everything. It was never satisfied and when she refused it it would begin that horrible barking and she would try to stop it, stop the eyes it drew close. Stop the muttering and the worried looks, the sighs and shuffles and pitying glances.\n\nYen missed her, so much, and as the world lurched to a stop and the mechanical click of doors opened, she felt empty again, the wet of the road slippery under her boots, the light patter of rain a steady drip of cold. She sighed, and walked on, the tears falling as she did.\n\nHow terrible can you feel about a death you caused? How many ghosts can haunt you as you too slowly die?\n\n\nYen thought she had so many questions, yet she had so much time.\n\nNo one was home, as was usual, and Yen continued to trundle into her room, the messy piles of sketches and folded blankets everywhere. Half-finished paintings hung in a loose fashion on the walls and a typical set of broken brushes lay scattered across the carpet, a tide of paint behind them.\n\nA minor storm had begun to start, rain and water washing away the grime and dirt. It flowed in crystal streams into gutters and drains, dragging the green of spring with it. Yen looked more closely out the window, trying to truly see the image. Reaching for an empty page, she dragged the pencils across it, attempting to trap the thing she saw before her, a hazy river of trickling time.\n\nShe got lost in this, the drawing that colored and shaded itself, her hands but attached objects that stayed still as the art pulled itself free, a sculpture nestled inside a block of blank white paper.\n\nWhen she’d finished, all that was left was a silver stream of dreams, a mirror that reflected the fleeting green of spring and summer, floating from the trees.\n\nIt was amazing, but she tore it apart as she usually did. Nothing she made anymore was worth it, just silly things she made because she'd run out of time. She coughed, her chest rasping. Turning away, she looked up at the now bright night sky, the moon full and round, glowing in the night. \n\nMaybe it was just her imagination, but she thought she could see a little figure trapped up there, a moon man. When she ate her bland dinner in the silence of the dining room and drank the cold mixture of pills and cordial, the thought of the moon man stayed with her, a masked man with long, flowing black hair and a silver suit. When she struggled to bury herself in sleep, she thought of the moon man, his mask now smiling a long, kind sort of grimace. And finally, when she awoke to the nightmares, she saw the moon man walking down the street, whistling as he did.\n\nBehind him, walking as if they were reflections of one another, were two siamese cats, one a snowy white, the other a ruddy black. Each had one blue eye and one yellow. Their tails flickered as one as they padded down the sidewalk, the street lamps flickering at their approach.\n\nYen screamed, the sound echoing in her room.\n\nA heavy, gloved hand covered her mouth, bitter and leathery.\n\nShe bit down, feeling her teeth plunge into empty space.\n\nThen she saw its face, the polished glass, pointed mustache, a ticking clock. It wore a bow tie and bowler hat, with a thick trench coat draped over it. With more force, it dragged her towards the now open doors of her closet, screaming as she did. Yen wondered just for a second what her parents were thinking or doing for that matter, her screams inaudible to them.\n\n\nAs the darkness of the closet wreathed itself around her, she felt the gnawing abyss and the gentle, unsullied sound of gears, clicking and ticking inside a mechanical heart.\n\nYen gave a shallow breath, feeling weightless. It was so very dark, far away from the normal gullet of her closet. Reaching out, she tried to grab a stray piece of clothing, feeling for the warmth of a furred jacket or summer dress. Nothing, just empty space.\n\nStruggling again, the metallic arms tightened around her, drawing her closer into the clock man's body. Soon, the biting teeth of the skeleton nipped at her, steady biting that drew her ever deeper. Then, the stabbing pain of shattering glass and the hollow ticking of the clock.\n\nYen was gone.\n\nShe was gone.\n\nWhere was she?\n\nHow was she?\n\nTrapped outside of time, beaten by a hollow clock.\n\n", "##The Painted Prince - Part 1##\n\n######[](#dropcap)\n\nLike a swarm of fiery moths, the autumn leaves spiralled on the wind, bright and delicate as the trees shook them free. The fields were covered in loose blankets of embers, glowing red as the brisk chill of night heralded the start of winter.\n\nGeorge looked through her round window, gazing down at the fields. It would be harvest time soon, and Pa would go out in the fields with the scything machines and the straw men they had made so long ago would be slashed into nothing and the night would be filled with the sounds of grinding wheat and threshed corn.\n\nShe didn’t look forward to that.\n\nSick as she was, it felt so wrong to be trapped inside, locked inside her room. The vast, open expanse of the farm looked so beautiful and inviting, the grass a soft green that shone caramel in the sunset, the faraway forest something pulled from a story. She ached for her paintbrushes - she regretted not bringing them. It would have been a joy to just sit and copy down the rustic elegance of it all, to capture the last rays of the falling sun.\n\nAs silent as a mouse, she crept down the stairs, wincing with every step as the house groaned. The old wood moaned, as almost ashamed of her deceit. Her Gran was out shopping, as she usually did, her Pa drowning himself to death in liquor. No one was around, but the harsh guilt was heavy as lead inside her stomach.\n\nTenderly cupping the handle of the door, she began to twist, trying to ignore the harsh sounds of metal scraping against the wood. With a final, saddened sigh, the door clicked open, swinging open with the force of the wind.\n\nOutside, the entire world stood waiting, slowly turning to twilight.\n\nWith a step, she walked to the steps, inhaling the intoxicating scent of the fresh air, of the world tight with tension. Then, she leapt, her feet burying themselves in the moist earth. Trees shook with the wind and the burning moths took flight again, scattering themselves across the fields.\n\nTurning, she ran into the fields. Wheat rushed past her in a tide of sunny yellow, the brittle wreaths scratching her skin. She felt so alive, so free, her hair billowing behind in an inky cloud of black. It was like a fairytale, so carefree, so innocent.\n\nEventually, the final forest of grain whistled past her, the sun low in the sky and the forest behind it a deep, dark, enchanted purple. Trapped between light and dark, frozen in the pale amber of time.\n\n\nSighing, she sat down and let closed her eyes, letting the whispering wind send the fiery moths aflame and the woodlands to creak and groan with the weight of ages gone past.\n\nThe pillow was soft against her face, the blankets warm and the once constant scent of damp earth down. Her eyes were bound shut, her sensation of her body distant as if trying to see through a murky pond or listen through the thick plaster of a wall. Forgotten, fragmented, obscure.\n\nFrom that point onwards the invisible sights and sounds grew fainter, a sterile smell of antiseptic or the harsh glare of white light. Rolling wheels, shouting, crying and the uncomfortable sensation of stabbing metal. Coiling, serpentine tubes that choked her, imposing men clad in grey that grinned without eyes and wielded silver scalpels. Dreams and memories dredged up from the depths.\n\nGeorge wrenched herself from the dream and vomited across the ground, the bile black and glistening like oil. The grass hissed, the tar like liquid burrowing deep into it. She vomited again, this time the disgorged mass was a dark, navy blue, the colour of aged ink and then. With a final, mighty heave, the rotted remains that she released were peppered with red, sparkling ruby droplets.\n\nThe air was filled with the coppery tang of blood, and the night was shrill and silent. Stars, a cold, distant blue, looked down at her with utter disgust, vengeful angels from the abyssal void. Trees grew into grasping, skeletal talons, the moths dead and damp in the night. Vast, misty hazes of fantastical Nebula and alien worlds glimmered far, far away.\n\nShe tried to move, feeling the dead cold slowly crawl up her legs. Back at the house, all was still, the wind long gone and the windows a vacant grey. No lights, no car, not even the familiar glow of a fire or crackle of the television. Nothing at all.\n\nStumbling, George entered back into the wheat field. Now, it was a sea of yellow grass, and the rustling of footsteps rippled through it. It was impossible to see anything, just a dark tunnel of half-folded stalks and tall, barbed eaves. Sometimes, she could almost see the glaring green of eyes, staring out at her before they dissolved into the shadows.\n\nMonsters, whispering in the dark.\n\nA hollow girl, trapped outside of time.\n\nEventually, George dragged herself out, the narrow spaces of the leafy tunnels gone. Night gripped everything, covering every surface in solemn shadows. Desperately, she tore at the door handle, the door locked shut. The windows were down, bolted and the lights stayed out. Pressing her ear against the door, she held her breath, listening frantically.\n\nInside, the wood groaned, almost as if someone walked inside, the subtle movement of a stranger's feet against the withered wood.\n\nMoving to a window, she peeped inside, the kitchen dark and empty.\n\nA single, quivering line sparkled at her, a neon shade of luminous blue. Delicate, like silk or fine gauze, it was so visible to her - shimmering there, trapped somewhere else. Delicately, she began to prise open the window, the feeble iron bolt shattering with a loud, violent outburst.\n\nAs stealthy as she could, she slunk through the window, her feet greeted by the cold tiles. Her breath hung in the air, little clouds of white smoke that faded into starlight.\n\nMoving ever onwards, she tiptoed into the next room, face stuck in a sort of permanent mixture of curiosity and fear. It was a definite fact no one but her was here, or that anyone had gotten the house. It was silent, all a bad dream. Pa and Gran would be furious, running around town looking for her.\n\nA small grin climbing onto her face, she went back to bed, the soft embrace of the mattress a gentle comfort.\n\nThen, she felt it, a feathery touch of a paintbrush.\n\nThe sound of buttons dropping to the floor, lacquered black and vermillion too.\n\nThe gentle swishing of a shoelace, whispering as it coiled.\n\nAnd the cavernous laugh of something ancient, inhuman, bellowing in the blackness.\n\nHer eyes flung open again, the translucent green of the wallpaper chipped and worn, bearing ages of pity and scorn. Her window was open, a single, lonely autumn leaf, a silver gold in the moonlight, fluttering onto her desk.\n\nShe upright, pulling the covers tight. The wind howled louder now, the leaf dancing to the spinning song. Vast, chrome fields of metal grass and enchanted trees stretched out before her, as alluring as the passionate inferno that afternoon.\n\nReaching out with a single too-big hand, she snatched the leaf as it spun, feeling an invisible tug.\n\nIt pulled harder now, flickering and fluttering like a bird, growing larger with each second. George tried to let go but it held tight, tearing her away from the bed and dragging her, kicking and screaming, out the window.\n\nThe wind began to rage now, the wheat a flood of sterile steel that wavered and woed, the vast black horizon stretching on. Somehow, the leaf dragged her higher and higher, the house and farming shrinking like mice as she ascended upwards. Soon, the chill fog of clouds surrounded her, streaking as a white jet as the leaf tugged her ever higher. Stars stopped glittering and then began to shine, violent, angry blue that screamed of summer storms and the electric hum of lighting. Burning, searing, desperate tearing as the wind howled and the earth grew to be footnote beneath her.\n" ]	4
	[WP] It turns out that reincarnation is the true religion! You have died and find yourself reincarnated as an animal cracker.	[ "\"Oh, shit. I'm an Animal Cracker.\" I tried to wiggle my legs. I think I was an elephant. \"How did this happen?\"\n\n\"Howdy,\" said a donkey. \"You were reincarnated.\"\n\n\"Wow. You can be reincarnated as an Animal Cracker?\"\n\n\"Yep. We'll be eaten and our souls stapled to the wheel of life and death, to be born again.\"\n\n\"Can we be reincarnated as anything?\"\n\n\"No. Just humans and Animal Crackers,\" said the donkey. \"You know, only things with souls.\"\n\n\"That just raises more epistemological questions than I had to begin with,\" I said. \n\n\"Don't worry about it,\" said a kangaroo. \"We've been bought. Some kid's about to eat us.\"\n\n\"Wait,\" I stammered, \"you seem to know what's going on. How?\"\n\nThe donkey brayed. \"Being born human wipes your memory. You must have been a human last time. Now you're back to being an Animal Cracker, and you won't be mind-wiped until you're born human again. Hope you enjoyed it while it lasted. There are a lot more Animal Crackers produced than humans, so look forward to a few thousand life-times of production and consumption.\"\n\n\"Whoop!\" The kangaroo was snatched from beside me. \"My turn! Bye!\"\n\nThe kid dropped crumbs into the bag. \"Oh, God, please no!\" \n\n\"Quit complaining,\" said the donkey as the kid shoved him in his mouth. \"Sometimes you get to be a camel. That's pretty rad!\"\n\nI was the last in the bag. The kid considered me, and played with me in his hands, making circus noises. Then he put me back in the bag and threw me away.\n\nAfter hours, I crawled from the trash can. Once I make my way to the pantry, humanity will pay for its crimes. " ]	1
	[WP] Humans can spontaneously gain abilities from their last social media post. Your last post? "Danny DeVito is my spirit animal"	[ "On Sunday morning, my hair began to fall out. \nNot that this was anything new, I periodically lose hair from stress which is terribly inconvenient for a woman. This time was different though as instead of just a small patch of hair being bare and able to be covered, it came out in fist-full clumps. \nMonday morning, my jeans become too long. I thought I had merely stretched them too far as I had gained weight recently and my thighs always pushed my jeans to the limit. I had started a new exercise and diet routine that I felt was finally working. I was exceedingly pleased. \nTuesday I woke up with a raspy voice. I thought I was getting the strain of strep throat that was plaguing the office and called in sick. I felt fine. The only thing that really concerned me was that I had somehow developed a New Jersey accent that masked my Northern West Virginian drawl. \nWednesday I woke up to see that my size 10 lady's shoe size feet had shrunk considerably. Somehow, they were beautifully manicured. I have never been to a nail salon and yet they were free from all of the usual dead skin and corns. I bought a beautiful pair of cerulean blue heels and took many pictures. #prettyinblue. \nThursday my mom stopped by to check in on me and when I answered the door, I realized she towered over me. I am usually 5 foot, 8 inches and look my mom directly eye to eye but this time, I only came up to her collar bone. She screamed when she looked at me. \n\"What?\" I croaked aggressively. \nMom ran from the house and into her car. She pulled out her cell phone and started calling someone. \nOne hour later, a police car pulled up to the house. \n\"Alright sir, come out with your hands up! What have you done to Amelia Fex and why are you wearing her clothes?\" The young policeman held out his gun, shaking nervously. \n\"I don't know what you're talking about! I am Amelia Fex! See, here's my driver's license and my cell phone.\" \nI turned to get my wallet out of my purse and the policeman shot me. Lying there in a pool of my own blood I saw Danny DeVito appear in a cloud over me. \n\"Sorry kid, I had to get some of the heat off me so I could get some damn peace. It wasn't supposed to go down like this.\" He looked at me mournfully. \n\"Just one more favor before I die?\" \n\"Anything.\" \n\"Wear the Man-Cheetah costume and say 'I'm big, you're small.\"' \nAs I passed from this life, I knew that I had indeed truly lived as a teary Danny DeVito fulfilled my last wishes. \n \n \n " ]	1
	[WP] Your psychiatrist refuses to treat you, because you are hopelessly repressed. You should stay this way as long as possible, because beneath the surface you are an untreatable monster.	[ "At nights I wake up sweaty, awoken by nightmares and atrocities commited by a person I can't see. And now every day I walk around haunted by images I can't unsee - panic stricken pale faces in wide eyed fear of whoever -whatever- it is that is coming towards them...\n\n~~~\n\n\"Hi.\" My smile is as fake as the one on the face of the receptionist who greets me from her desk as I enter through the door. \"Is Dr. Milana in today?\"\n\n\"Let me check,\" she replies, standing up and adjusting a skirt that looks like it was stolen from her sixteen year old daughter's closet. \n\nShe walks away with a purposeful stride and a sway in her hips that's meant to be sexy, and I keep looking long enough for her to catch me as she briefly glances back. I'm not attracted to her, I just hope it makes her feel better.\n\nIn her absence, I wonder why she couldn't have just used the phone - but she's back only a minute later with an answer to my question:\n\n\"She's not in.\"\n\n\"It's been two weeks,\" I state. \"When, then, will she be in?\"\n\n\"You can perhaps try again next week,\" she suggests, already comfortable seated in her chair. \n\nToo comfortable to rise again quick enough as I speed walk past her and her desk towards Dr. Milana's door.\n\n\"Stop!\" I hear behind me. \"Stop, you can't go in th-\"\n\nToo late. I reach the door and open it, letting myself into the room that I hadn't seen since two weeks ago when my psychiatrist, Dr. Milana, had seen me for one session and then discontinued answering my calls.\n\n\"Oh!\" she spouts, sitting up abruptly in her desk.\n\nJust then the receptionist runs in and apologizes to Dr. Milana while grabbing my arm.\n\n\"No, no,\" Milana says, untying her hair. \"He's here. Might as well let him stay.\" \n\nThe psychiatrist sounds like she's trying to repress a sigh, and the receptionist sounds disappointed in herself as she replies, \"Yes, ma'am.\"\n\nShe backs out of the room and the door clicks softly behind her, leaving just me and the psychiatrist. \n\nMilana opens a drawer, pulls out a notepad, a pen, and a pair of glasses. She gestures at me. \"Sit.\"\n\nI do. \"You've been ignoring me,\" I say.\n\nA subtle ripple of emotion flickers across her features, but ultimately, her face remains composed. \"You know why,\" she responds.\n\n\"I'm having them again.\"\n\n\"The dreams?\"\n\nI nod.\n\nShe turns her attention to the notepad before the worry I saw a glimpse of in her face blooms.\n\n\"What are you doing?\" I ask her, a moment of silence having come and gone.\n\n\"Writing you another prescription.\"\n\n\"No.\"\n\nShe looked up. \"No?\"\n\n\"Everytime I start having the dreams, you just give me medication.\"\n\n\"Everytime you start having the dreams, you keep coming back,\" she gently retorted.\n\n\"To help me,\" I argue. \n\n\"I am helpi-\"\n\n\"No. You're a psychiatrist. Help me figure out why I'm having these dreams and how to make them stop. You keep giving me treatments for the symptoms when we should be focusing on the root cause of it all.\"\n\nShe breathes deeper, and her eyes tell me that she wants to tell me something more. But, in the end, she submits to her guarded professionalism and looks away from me, back to the pad and restarts scribbling my prescription.\n\nI get up and head out, but her voice stops me:\n\n\"Please. This is more serious than you think it is.\"\n\nI look back and see her holding the paper with the prescription on it to me. Her eyes are earnest and sincere - but the impression I have of her keeping secrets make them seem, in a way, sort of sinister.\n\nI walk over and snatch the paper. Our eyes meet. She holds my gaze waveringly, then submissively looks down and away.\n\nAnd I walk out.\n\n~~~\n\nI have another dream. Not a peaceful one like Martin Luther King, Jr's. A savage one. More of a nightmare. I'm in the body of someone else, doing indescribable things to everyone that crosses my path. There are no such things as enemies and allies, no friends or foes. I am the sole predator and everyone else is just...prey.\n\n~~~\n\nI haven't gone to the pharmacy. Haven't taken my meds. I feel the same. Besides the nightmares and all, nothing else has really happened. Everything is pretty much the same - maybe there was nothing to worry about after all. \n\nI was wrong.\n\n~~~\n\nEdit: Might continue\n\n\n" ]	1
Idk if this has been done yet but I thought it would be a cool concept	[WP] You realized that after a freak accident you have the ability to freeze time, but it's been several hours and you don't know how to change it back.	[ "DAY 1:\n\nI almost got killed, who gets drunk and drive a truck? This son of a bitch in front of me.\n\nI was really close, time froze when the truck touched my butt, maybe I have a magic butt? I almost died from a heart attack when I looked back and saw a fucking truck so close.\n\nI punched him, do you think it was a dick move? He almost killed me! I didn't know my punch was strong, I didn't know I would kill him. Time unfroze for two seconds, it happened while he was dying.\n\nThe weird number in my wrist changed.\n\nDAY 2:\n\nI am still thinking about the guy I killed earlier, it was unintentional, I swear.\n\nI tried to touch my butt into trucks, I tried to yell, I asked kindly, nothing worked.\n\nI made a effort to eat a pizza earlier however it's impossible to eat anything, I always gag the food in the last second, and microwaves don't work either.\n\nDAY 3: \n\nIt happened again.\n\nThe time unfroze for three seconds, I was just passing by the nearest church and saw a girl being robbed, the guy had a knife and she blood in her shirt, I took the knife and stabbed the guy's throat. \n\nThe time unfroze instantly, while he was dying, she looked at me terrified.\n\n\"Wh—\". Time froze again.\n\nThe number in my wrist changed for the second time.\n\nDAY 4: \n\nI found out the only way to force the time to keep going is killing someone.\n\nI saw a map with the location of a famous lab close to me and decided I should give it a try.\n\nEverything was locked, except a window in the second floor, it was hard but I made it.\n\nTwo guys with white coats were looking to a baby playing with a weird toy in a glass room, \n\nThe room had a door and a hole in the ceiling, I jumped in.\n\nI agree I should have thought more about it.\n\nDAY 21: \n\nI am still here, I can't open the door and the ceiling is to high to reach, it's driving me crazy, 17 days in a row, the baby is still here, he is so cute.\n\nDAY 50: \n\nI can't do this anymore, I need to do something soon, I don't feel tired, hungry, but my mind.. It's still racing, it's still working, I am mentally exhausted. \n\nDAY 51:\n\nI need to kill him, it's the only way, I can't just stay here forever, I need to do it and open the door.\n\nGod forgive me.\n\nDAY 52: \n\n\"Ok...\" \n\n\"You can do it.\" \n\n\"Now!\" I yelled.\n\n\"You need to do it.\"\n\n\"Don't look, just stab him and run to the door, you don't need to look.\"\n\n\"Let's try again.\"\n\nI finally did it, with his blood in my hands, I could see their faces, pure shock and terror, they couldn't understand it.\n\n I was able to reach the door before the baby's death.\n\nIt's locked.\n\n\"OPEN THE DOOR!\" I yelled, kicking the door.\n\nThey left the room running, people were screaming and calling the police, while I was locked in this room with a dead baby.\n\nI looked at my wrist and the number had disappeared. \n\nThe time never stopped again.\t\n\n----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------\n\nIt's my second time writing something, if you have feedback it would be awesome, thank you.\n\n", "Shards of glass glitter brilliantly before my eyes. I can see how the crystalline flecks cast technicolor hues across my daughter’s forehead. The rebar that the flatbed in front of us had been hauling is inches away from caving in her face, her mother’s face. I never realized that before - how much they look alike. Why did I never notice? Her eyes are squeezed shut, one of her earbuds had fallen out of her ear. It is suspended in mid air.\n\nI practically fall out of the driver’s seat and the first thing I do is lose my lunch. Pulled pork and coleslaw from Fat Sal's BBQ Hole decorate the asphalt. It’s bizarre but the next thing I feel is a jolt of shame at the memory of her irritably picking apart the pitiful salad she ordered. She’d apparently become a devout vegetarian during my long absence. She told me over the phone, she insisted. I never listen, she murmured over her meager meal.\n\nI can’t tell if this was some act of God, some miracle. Perhaps everyone is allowed a few minutes of reflection just like this before they die. A moment to take stock of the journey so far. A vision of it’s end. The smoke from my tires hangs in the air. The smell of them threatens to inspire a digestive reprisal.\n\nAs soon as I have my footing, I stagger around the back of my car and swing her door open. I send glass pieces spinning away as I reach to unbuckle her seatbelt. She had only just finished admonishing me for what a shitty dad I had been. She can’t be too far off. Between bailing on her for two years to sell cars and screw young girls I had no business screwing and the divorce, I can somewhat understand her sentiment. \n\nThat and apparently trapping her forever in time and space just before her violent death are among my gravest sins. \n\nAt least the rebar wasn’t my fault. I take note of the How Am I Driving? phone number on the bumper sticker. Oh, someone’ll be getting a call about this strap-down hack job. Eventually.\n\nHours wear on. I hold her wishing I could do anything to ease that look off of her face. I will the vision to end. I beg for time to resume.\n\nOn the bright side, at least I can’t tell how much she hates me this way. I can’t hear her scolding me in her mother’s voice. I brush her hair out of her eyes.\n\n“I’m so sorry.” I whisper. Whether things return to normal or not, I know this is probably the only time I’ll have the spine to tell her so.\n", "So a few questions are starting to become a little more important as we near the... some hours mark. I think. Okay, new first problem - there's no way to tell time when time is stopped. In retrospect, that one might have been a touch obvious, but it doesn't replace the old top level questions: do I still need to eat? How in the hell am I supposed to flush the toilet? Or, perhaps most importantly, HOW THE HELL DO I TURN TIME BACK ON AGAIN? \n\nIt had all seemed like such a good idea, anywhere between seven and probably not more than thirty-six fake hours ago. God, that was going to be a problem, no more time based relational thinking. \"Get some extra time to finish the paper Marcus, that's the ticket. Look at how well that turned out!\" The paper was done at least, and as it turns out it would offer stunning insights into the efficacy of ancient Slavic concepts of the Triglav as a union of the dimensions of time, assuming I could make time a thing again. Damn you Perun, you've ruined me. \n\nTherein had followed a few.... nondescript time units of fun. Yeah, really pulling it together on that relative thinking aren't you Marcus? Hey, I'm a college guy, what the hell did you expect? Unfortunately, it turned out I hadn't made it to the part of the page describing the second half of the ritual, and a time stop made for a pretty terrible time to try to load up a different web page. Note to self - fiber optic cables? Still require time to exist for transmission. That'll be helpful if I ever get out. \n\nThis is fine.", "Since I was a child, Time has always been my interest. I wanted to learn everything about time. Everything time-related, watches... everything as long as it's related to time. I questioned it as well. \n\nWhen did time start? When will it stop? Can we touch time? Will we run out of time? Is time real? Is time just an illusion? Can we manipulate time? Will time run out? All these questions I asked but never got the answer to. \n\nYou may know the proverb: \"Curiosity killed the cat.\" right? And it seems I had the same fate as the cat. After studying spacetime for... years, I had the answer to all my questions. I had the answer to time. It was within my reach. But the answer was hidden for a reason. \n\nAs I grasped the answer to everything, It changed me. I passed out. It affected my body. I have accidentally sped up time's effect on me. I was basically decaying alive.\n\nThen it stopped. I froze it. I paused time. I rewind time's effect on my body. As my appearance went back to normal, I decided to use my powers. I froze time. I did everything. I stole, I went everywhere...and I did absolutely everything I could.\n\nLittle did I know about the effects of time freezing. I froze time for a century without knowing it. And worse... I... I... can't seem to resume it. I... can't find a way. \n\nTime has been frozen for a thousand years now. I can't fix this. I can't. If anyone... anyone... has escaped the effect... then they must get out of this timeline. There is a portal at my place. It will take you to an identical timeline where I didn't exist. If any time travelers see this... \n\nLEAVE.\n\n-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------\nI'm new to writing so any feedback is appreciated! \n\n\n" ]	4
	[WP] When life gives you lemons, you make lemonade, right? You've been receiving lemons for four years and it's becoming tiresome.	[ "Day 1: Dear Diary\n\nToday was pretty shitty, but in a surprising twist I came home to a basket of lemons! I decided to make a lemon cheesecake in order to celebrate me and my girlfriend's 3 month anniversary.\n\nGood night!\n\nDay 7: I got lemons again today. For the seventh time this week. My girlfriend was weirded out but I just said it was one of those subscription boxes. Made lemon tarts today. Running out of lemon recipes. Maybe I'll Google some more!\n\nNight\n\nDay 23: I got lemons today. Again. I'm seriously weirded out, and I'm out of recipes revolving around lemons. Decided to put some in my gin and tonic. Figure I might as well start again.\n\nSleep tight\n\nDay 54: JESUS CHRIST WHO KEEPS SENDING ME THESE FUCKING LEMONS. I'm half considering calling the police, but I'm not sure if it's considered a crime. My girlfriend, having read my diary has gone to stay at her mother's house for the night.\n\nPlease help\n\nDay 278: Lemons again. Why. I did everything I could. I called the police but they did nothing so I bought cameras. For the past 227 days I've been checking them every night but nothing.\n\nWhy?\n\nDay 478: THE LEMONS FOLLOWED ME! I SAVED UP MONEY FROM SELLING THEM TO MOVE BUT HERE THEY ARE, ON MY FRONT DOORSTEP IN CALCUTTA, INDIA. WHOEVER IS DOING THIS IS DETERMINED TO FUCK WITH ME. I'LL KILL 'EM I SWEAR TO GOD!\n\nBE WARNED\n\nDaY 946: here they are again. In Shetland, Scotland. I don't know how they got here, mail doesn't run on Sunday. I'm considering staying out all night to find the bastard doing it.\n\nDay 1240: Just got out of prison, I shot the mailman and got locked up for assault with a deadly weapon. Scottish laws are weird. Every day I got lemons though, which did help in the showers. Cut them in half and lodged them up there. \n \nDay 1563: I'm GoIng CRazY. ThEY AppEAreD aGain whO KeEps doing tHIs? \n\nDay 1666: I'm done. I got 500 lemons on my doorstep today. I'm making them into grenades and taking myself out with a citric bang. However, as a last meal, I'm having all the lemon dishes I ever made, washed down with lemonade... Maybe the bastard doing this will leave me alone in heaven.\n\nGoodbye cruel lemon filled world.\n\nThe diary ends here, it was found in the tragic and delicious wreckage of a man's house. Any identification would help\n\nSincerely, Eskimo Police" ]	1
	[WP] "Due to technical difficulties, fire has been temporarily disabled. We apologize for the inconvenience. - God"	[ "\"WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU LOST THE FILE?\"\n\n\"Well I... uh... um\"\n\n\"This is your last chance, Stewart. The updated version up and running by tomorrow morning or you can say buh-bye to your job.\" God stood back, gave him another glare for good measure and stomped out of the door. Stewart pushed up his glasses, wiping sweat off his brow. He sighed and logged on the Earth Particle Rendering Department website. He knew he would have to rebuild fire, and better than ever before.", "A whisper like a lick of breeze floated into every last person's mind: \"Due to technical difficulties, fire has been temporarily disabled. We apologise for the inconvenience. Your creator, God.\"\n\nBerri, Grape and Bana were stunned into silence as the cracking flames before their eyes died. No embers. No fizzling out. Gone. Poof. Dead.\n\n\"What in the fuck?\" Berri reached forward and hovered her hand where the flames had just been. There was not the slightest bit of evidence of heat. Or fire. \n\n\"Didn't you just hear the message?\" Grape shuddered, wrapping her arms around herself. \n\n\"Fire's dead,\" Bana reiterated. \"And what timing too. I'm fucking freezing.\"\n\nThe three were stuck in the wilderness after parachuting out of a plane went terribly wrong and they flew far out into the snow-topped mountains and were left stranded. They had only just got the fire going and the temperature around them was well below freezing. \n\n\"What the fuck, God?\" Berri looked up into the yellowish clouds. Snow was clearly due to fall. A thick layer of it. Perhaps a blizzard, Berri thought. Her body began shaking.\n\n\"We should huddle,\" Bana said, \"...Naked,\" she added as an afterthought, eyes grim.\n\n\"You what?\" Berri scoffed. She would have spat at the idiot but opening her mouth wide turned her saliva into an icy liquid, frosting her on the inside.\n\n\"No thanks,\" Grape said, ripping off her clothes. She grabbed her parachute and began twirling it around her body. \n\n\"And what in the fuck are you doing?\" Berri sighed, her precious hot air escaping her freezing lips. She closed her mouth in one sharp movement just as her teeth decided to chatter.\n\n\"Body heat, wrap, you know,\" Grape said before flopping onto the floor like some kind of burrito. \n\nBerri was now violently chattered her lips, body shaking so intensely Bana couldn't even focus on where Berri's eyes were.\n\n\"Uh, yeah,\" Bana did the same as Grape with her clothes still on, wrapping the nylon around her.\n\n\"You guys are stupid how's the parachute gonna keep you warm?\" Berri said between extreme shudders.\n\nAnd then the fire lit back on. The three went quiet, continuing to wait for rescue, Bana and Grape still wrapped up - Grape on the floor, Bana sitting straight, Berri practically cooking herself. \n\n~~Yep. I just did that.~~" ]	2
	[WP] Dragons have always been a part of society. Humans and dragons co-dominate the planet as the higher species. Your roommate is a stoner dragon with no career prospects. You want to help them change that.	[ "\"Dude, what are you still doing here today? Go out and, I dunno. Fly around? Eat something? Find a hobby?\"\n\nI asked the question, but I really didn't expect a response. I wasn't disappointed. A puff of smoke wafted its way over to me, from where he sat curled into his nook, glaring at me from lidded eyes.\n\nI had found the advertisement on Craigslist. Seeking reliable roommate, it had read. Affordable rent. Must be willing to assist with molting.\n\nTrue to form, it was very affordable. Almost too afforadble. I had found myself looking for the catch, trying to figure out what was wrong with the other guy.\n\nWell, nothing was wrong, per say. Glimmers like Twenty Thousand Suns was a stellar roommate, as far as the dragons went. He didn't scratch up the floor in the entry passage too badly, on the odd occasion he actually left. He didn't smoke up the apartment. He didn't invite anyone over without asking.\n\nBut, in a way, that was the problem. Suns (Or Glimmer, if you were trying to piss him off) didn't do much of anything. He was perfectly content to sit around the place, an enormous mound of golden scales taller than I was, munching on the herb their reptilian race preferred.\n\nIt was only good for the dragons, they said. Oh, some enterprising souls had tried to smoke it, back when the treaty was first formed between our two species. They found their bodies soon enough, melted horrifically from the inside out.\n\nNot a good drug for humans. But for the dragons, with their cast iron internals? They could sit there roasting the herb in their second stomach all night, getting a nice little buzz.\n\nAnd so Suns had spent the last three years of our time together.\n\n\"So, uh.\" I began, as I flopped down onto the old, beat up couch positioned between his head and the TV, angled so both of us could see. \"How are things going?\"\n\n\"Same old. Nothing big.\" The deep voice rumbled from behind me. My coffee mug shivered on the counter where I had left it when I woke up.\n\n\"That's....that's cool.\" I managed. I tried. I really did. But I was getting kind of sick of him being here all the time. He was a good guy, a really good friend. He wasn't a bad roommate at all. It's just...It was hard, you know? I couldn't bring any girls back, with him brooding in the living room like a solar behemoth. The piles of his herb in the corner were starting to smell up the place. And....\n\n\"So, did you find the money for the rent?\"\n\nA claw tapped on the concrete floor in the nook behind me, irritated.\n\n\"Not yet. I'll get it to you, Jeff. Stop worrying.\"\n\n\"Only, it's due next week.\" \n\n\"I said I'll get it to you.\"\n\n\"Any plans for how you'll find the cash in a week's time?\"\n\nSuns whuffed angrily. A blast of hot air shot past me. I ignored him, keeping my face even and pleasant.\n\n\"I'll just sell some scales again. It'll be fine. You sound like my mother.\"\n\n\"Dude, you can't keep living off molted scales. It's not a consistent way to live, you know? What if you don't collect enough?\"\n\nHe glared down at me with one giant, red eye. I sighed.\n\n\"All right. All right. Sorry I brought it up. Only, well....\" I hesitated, but I was in it now. \"I guess I kind of found you a job.\"\n\nThe silence stretched out between us. When I hazarded a glance back, out of the corner of my eye, he was staring at me.\n\n\"A job.\"\n\n\"Yeah. A friend of mine needs some help. They're trying to clear some particularly stubborn foliage off a site where they're trying to build a Walmart next month. They're on a bit of a time crunch, so...Well, they need a dragon, and I said you would do it. Today. They'll pay enough to cover the rent this month and next, you know.\"\n\nThe dragons weren't uncommon, far from it. They had fared better than the humans, in our little squabble that had stretched around the globe. But, in the end, there were just more of us breeding than them, and there weren't all that many dragons who were willing to stoop to manual labor. The ones who would work together with humans found themselves very well paid.\n\nI was worried, ok? Suns didn't have any career goals, beyond sitting in our little nook of an apartment and getting high. He didn't even have friends, besides for the few who would show up once in a blue moon. He was just going to sit here ripping his scales out, until he was naked and starving. I didn't want to see that happen to him. So, yes. I found him a job. Maybe if this worked out, we could turn it into something regular. Something better than him sitting around all the time, anyway.\n\n\"I'm not taking a job.\"\n\n\"You could really use the money, Suns. It'll be fun. You like burning stuff.\"\n\n\"My wings are sore. I'm allergic to vitamin D.\"\n\n\"You like flying. Remember when we flew all the way to Chicago for the convention last year?\"\n\n\"....That was different. And my flame ducts are sensitive. They'll get irritated.\"\n\nI sighed.\n\n\"All right. All right. I get it. Sorry to have tried.\"\n\nWe fell into sullen silence, staring angrily at each other. Finally, Suns sniffed and looked away. His high was running out. He reached for the little pile he had collected next to him, but it was gone. He had already eaten all that he had set out that morning.\n\nWith an irritated snort, he rose up onto his haunches, delicately reaching out to the stainless steel tub inset into the wall beside him.\n\nBut when he pulled it open, it was empty, too.\n\n\"Where's my stuff?\"\n\n\"You ate it all.\" I didn't look at him. My voice was light and even.\n\n\"Where's the stuff that was in my pantry?\"\n\n\"I told you, you ate it all.\"\n\n\"Don't fucking lie to me. What did you do with it?\"\n\nI sighed. I hadn't figured it would work, but it was worth a try.\n\n\"Fine. I sold it, to pay your half of the rent.\"\n\nHe roared in my face. I paused, waiting, as my hair blew in a halo around my face. The smell of burning hair rose as my eyebrows singed around the edges. That was fine. Occupational hazard of being a dragon's roommate.\n\n\"Go buy it back.\"\n\n\"Can't, dude. I used it to pay the rent.\"\n\nHe gritted his teeth, exposing the pearly white fangs hanging low out each side.\n\nI grinned, ever so slightly.\n\n\"Luckily for you, I hear there's a way for you to make some quick money.\"\n\nFor a long moment, we just stared at each other. And then, hissing audibly, Suns pinned his flying satchel to the ground with one giant claw and began filling it with the firestone he'd need to flame the trees.\n\nThat was probably about enough for the day. I scrawled the address on the giant whiteboard against the wall while he worked, and then scurried back towards the hallway to my room. Time to make my escape, before he-\n\nI stumbled, caught off balance, as I felt the back of my sweatshirt catch on something. Something big.\n\nThe ground below me fell away, as Suns lifted me, his front talons firmly hooked through the back of my clothes.\n\n\"Oh, no. Not so fast.\" His voice rumbled throughout the apartment. \"This job pays well, right? Then you won't mind helping me. I could use someone to shovel firestone.\"\n\nBefore I could offer any complaint, the day of lounging in front of the TV I had planned flashing before my eyes, Suns was lunging out through the entryway. He only laughed as I screamed in protest. And then the ground fell away from beneath us as we accelerated into the sky.\n\n(/r/Inorai) " ]	1
	[WP] You frowned suspiciously. This was not what the Regime told you to expect when you found the rebel leader.	[ "Four men entered a long white corridor that seemed to grow larger in size as they went further in. One of them was a short, stout man. He looked like more of a barrel than a human. Next to him stood his opposite, a giant so large he wore pieces of armor taken from artillery and tanks like a suit of armor. The man in front and clearly the leader was dressed head to toe in black combat armor. Following close behind the group was a lithe man that watched their backs. While he looked like nothing more than a bag of bones he possessed impeccable strength that needed to be restrained with gauntlets that weighed down his arms and slowed his movements.\n\nAs they approached the end of the hallway they came to a set of double doors that were easily three times the size of the giant. They were made of steel so smooth they looked like water. After everything they had gone through they weren’t going to be stopped by doors. Friends had fallen, comrades murdered, and innocent countrymen had gotten caught in the crossfire. None of that mattered as the end was at hand and the monster behind this rebellion would face justice. They readied the explosives and retreated to the far end of the hallway. With the press of button an orb of auburn fire appeared eating everything in its path. The men buckled from the shockwave of the explosion, but did not avert their eyes. When the fire died the doors stood tall and firm with only black soot lining the door.\n\n“What the fuck? Leroy what are those doors made of?” shouted short man.\n\n“Obviously something stronger than our explosives Jack. I’m less puzzled by the strength of the doors and more by the strength of the hinges. Even if the doors were indestructible the hinges shouldn’t have been crushed from the shockwave,” Leroy replied with an air of sarcasm.\n\n“Cram it you two. That explosive would have alerted anyone within a thousand feet of here so we should be expecting company,” growled a man covered from head to toe in black body armor.\n\n“I don’t think so Rob. If this really was the Ghast you’d think they would have guards stationed outside his chambers. On top of that if they were sending troops to us they would be sending the whole base to protect him,” whispered the lithe man. \n\n“What so you think they’re just high tailing like a bunch of cowards Sal?” asked Jack.\n\n“That’s the only explanation to any of this.”\n\n“I suppose you gentlemen are here to kill me,” came a voice over the intercoms.\n\n“You bet your sweet ass we are Ghast. When we pry those doors open we’re coming in their to tear you a new one,” Jack yelled angrily at the ceiling not knowing where Ghast’s voice came from.\n\n“I really hope you reconsider what you’re doing. I don’t want to hurt you. That’s why I disabled the alarms and sent the majority of the troops in the base on a goose chase. I want all this fighting to end,” Ghast pleaded.\n\n“Do you seriously expect us to believe you want the fighting to end? If you wanted all the fighting to end why would you slaughter thousands of civilians for no reason?” demanded Rob.\n\n“I have never ordered the death of any civilians. Any casualties sustained were either active combatants or monsters plaguing these lands.”\n\n“What about my fucking family! They were just a bunch of simple farmers barely scraping by and your soldiers, your death machines, just come rolling into town shooting wildly. They died trying to protect some little girl your soldiers were chasing. Did they deserve to die for protecting someone?” shouted Jack.\n\n“Setting aside the fact that my soldiers do not shoot at random civilians if your family really did try to protect someone my soldiers would not have harmed them. They would have incapacitated them, taken out the target, and brought them back here. We do not murder innocents and we especially don’t murder heroes. Did you see your family’s bodies?”\n\n“I saw their bodies alright. You soldiers burned them so bad I couldn’t even tell who was who,” tears filled Jack’s eyes. “Their body parts were scattered and charred like pieces of cheap meat.”\n\n“Jack you don’t need to answer to this monster. He’s just trying to screw with your head,” said Rob putting an arm on his friend’s shoulder.\n\n“Jack? Would your last name happen to be Faust?” asked Ghast.\n\n“Yeah it is. What does it matter to you?”\n\n“Your sister is in here with me! Sarah has been so helpful you wouldn’t believe it. Sarah your brother is here. Come say hello,” Ghast said suddenly filled with excitement.\n\n“Jack is that you?” asked a bubbly voice from over the intercom.\n\n“Oh my god,” the tears in his eyes now flowed free. “Sarah what are you doing here? Why are you helping this shitbag?”\n\n“It’s not what it seems Jack. I can explain everything, but you need to promise not to hurt Ghast.”\n\n“So long as your safe I promise I won’t shoot the shit out of this bastard. Can we at least come in to the room we tried to blow up. I’m little upset the doors didn’t turn to paper.”\n\n“Of course, let me just open the door first,” she said.\n\nSteam filled the hallway as it was pushed out of the corners of the doors. The doors slowly creaked open to reveal a large chamber with a large pipe in the center. In the pipe was a glowing blue liquid and a child suspended in the liquid by series wires and tubes. His left leg looked like it was torn off by a pack of dogs and parts of his skull was missing revealing the soft membranes that hid behind. Sitting at a console to the right of the tube was a tall woman with short black hair. She had one a pair of rectangular glasses and white one-piece outfit that clung to her body.\n\n“Gentlemen, I would like to introduce you to Ghast,” she said gesturing to the child in the tube.\n\n“I can’t believe it. We got our asses handed to us by a little kid,” said Leroy with a laugh.\n\n\"I kind of feel shitty for cursing at a kid now,\" said Jack.\n\n\"Don't be he's still the enemy,\" replied Rob. \"We want answers and we're not leaving here until either we like what we here or you're dead.\"" ]	1
	[WP]You walk in an abandoned castle, and then the floor breaks under you and you fall 30 feet. You see a skeleton and sword beside you, then you hear a growl.	[ "No matter which part of my body hit the ground, that drop should have guaranteed me a dead man. \n\nBut it didn’t. \n\nIt still left me disoriented however. My face pressed against a cold cobblestone floor. The flickering of a torch was audible to my right, which should have been a blessing at first. That was until I realized that was nonsensical. \n\nMy arms staggered in an attempt rise. How did I even get here? My mind recalled my recent journey to meet with another merchant from a neighboring town. The forest in which I traversed. The tree I rested underneath… The fall. \n\nThe sound of footsteps echoed underneath me, sending my head jolting forwards in a panic. I should have known that I wasn’t alone. I grimaced. I’ve heard about cult activity before, and most if not all of them resulted in an excruciating end. \n\nAt the end of the corridor was a figure. First cloaked by the darkness of shadows, it appeared to be a woman with a malnourished body, but as it stepped closer to the light, I had to muffle the scream that would escape from my mouth. \n\nIt was a skeleton. With chalk-like bones that rattled with each step it took, it was slowly approaching my helpless body. Helplessly, I rose to my feet and backed away. \n\nIt’s jaw hung from its skull, as if it were ravenous. Despite it’s lack of organs, I still found the idea of it eating me alive plausible. \n\nI hit the heel of my boot against an object, causing the clattering of metal against the floor. Instinctively, I reached down and retrieved it. It was a rusty sword. \n\n“Stay back.” I muttered. In my attempt to sound intimidating, my voice cracked. \n\nSuddenly, a growl consumed my eardrums, as the world began to rumble. My hand reached to cling onto the torch end to stabilize myself. At that time, my eyelids clenched together. I was unable to notice the skeletal fingers that crept over my shoulders. \n\n“We need to leave.” It hissed softly. \n\nReluctantly, I obliged and allowed it to lead me down the corridors. Waves of shadows flashed across my face. I was still sore and the skeleton’s tight grip didn’t help with my well-being. The growling became louder each second. My heart did as well. \n\n“In here.” It hissed again as he ushered me into a room to our left. I glanced behind to catch glowing red eyes attached to a giant creature.\n\nI breathed. We appeared to be in a library. I followed the skeleton further inside where we found a table. He pulled out a chair for me and I awkwardly took a seat. He sat on the other end. His empty sockets glared at me. \n\n“S-sorry about that!” He began after moments of silence. My cheeks twitched as he attempted to steady his jaw, but it drooped even further. \n\n“Our king has been quite a feisty beast, ever since that goddess came along.” \n\n“Excuse me…?” \n\nMy fears have swept away at this point, and I was left feeling rather dumbstruck. \n\n“Well!” He continued, “centuries ago, our ruler found a way to anger Gaia.” \n\nI frowned in confusion. \n\n“You know, the Earth Goddess? Anyways, she proceeded to sink the castle 30 feet into the ground, and transformed our king and queen into like, hideous monsters if you will” \n\n“...And yourself?” I asked. \n\nThe skeleton raised his index finger in the air, as if he had an epiphany. “Oh, she also stripped all of the subjects, including myself, of their flesh.” \n\n“Right.” \n\nHe wasn’t very good at giving details. I studied him closely to the point where his visage wasn’t as scary as I thought it was at first. It looked as if it was smiling with his teeth stuck like that. \n\n“What’s your name by the way?” The skeleton asked enthusiastically, leaning against his palm as if it were on a date.\n\n“Uh, it’s Tobias.”\n\n“Weird name! Mine is Millicent.” He replied, “I was just a Page before I ended up stranded.” \n\n“I see.” \n\nI stalled my desired question for a bit. Pieces of aged parchment littered the floors. I was unable to understand the handwriting. It appeared to be Greek. \n\n“Anyways.” I said, interrupting the ominous emptiness of the room, “how do I get out of here?” \n\nMillicent straightened himself, causing his back to produce a crackling sound. Despite his unchanging expression, I could tell that it had darkened. \n\n“Oh. To be honest, I’m not sure if that is even possible. I haven’t seen another human here since the time I was one, so I was curious. I mean, we’re here in order to keep us from escaping this dungeon of an afterlife.” \n\nHe paused. \n\n“But maybe…” \n\nA purr was heard in the shadows of the room, one that would have belonged to that of a lion. Millicent stood up instantly. A hairy creature, one with the horns of a goat and the body of a panther sneaked its way towards us. It too had red eyes and they were following me. \n\n“It’s the queen.” He whispered, “I need you to take the sword and run.” \n\nA bead of sweat slid down my forehead. \n\n“But I wasn’t done-” \n\n“That doesn’t matter!” Millicent raised his voice, “I doubt her majesty would welcome strangers so kindly.” \n\nI nodded slowly and crept towards the doors, with the beast watching me from it’s hiding place. Then it bolted, creating after images behind it. \n\n“Run Tobias! Find the others!” Millicent screamed, as he threw himself in front of the angry monster. \n\nI wrenched the door open and slammed the door shut. However, that did not help deafen the sound of bones clattering to the floor within.\n\n*****\nThis prompt was super neat! I hope you like the story.\n[r/Lalondalot](https://www.reddit.com/r/Lalondalot/)\n", "The Castle. \n\nAfter an acrimonious break up with my long-term girlfriend, I decided that I needed a break, to get away from the bad atmosphere. \nSo, I took three weeks holiday from my job in the IT department of a large supermarket chain, making sure that the stores didn’t run out of things and the customers could always buy their tins of baked beans.\nI decided on a walking holiday in Scotland, taking a tent and camping gear with me. I decided to leave my mobile behind, as I seemed to spend a lot of my waking hours, with my phone glued to my ear, this would be a total break. \nI took the overnight coach from Victoria coach station, London, sleeping most of the four hundred odd miles and woke as we pulled into Glasgow coach station.\nI had thirty minutes to get to the train station for the train to Fort William. Grabbing a coffee on route, I made it to the station with minutes to spare.\nI got off the train at Fort William, and shouldered my rucksack. \n\nAfter leaving the station, I stocked up with supplies in the local supermarket and started hiking towards Achnacarry. It was only about twelve or so miles away, but I was in no hurry.\n\n\nThere was a ruined castle there, that I wanted to explore. Plus, the Commando memorial was not far from there, at Spean Bridge, that was where my Grandfather was based during the second world war. \nHe was one of the hundreds of troops who trained as commando’s there, the rugged landscape, was a ready-made training ground, with cliffs to climb. \nA lot of men died during training from falls or on live fire exercises. They were buried inside the grounds of the Commando training centre, there were at least two hundred white crosses. \n\nI took my time hiking cross county towards Achnacarry castle. Setting up camp off the hiking trail. \nIt was so peaceful, I didn’t see another person, but I did see deer early in the morning, coming down to drink from the tributary from Loch Lochy. \nI visited the Commando memorial at Spean Bridge, taking loads of photos. \nThen one day, I moved on to Achnacarry castle, I camped overnight in sight of the castle. \nThe following morning, I broke camp early, and hiked the remaining couple of miles to the castle. \nI took my camera, a head torch and a water bottle from my rucksack, and placed them in a small daysack, along with some chocolate and nuts. I hid my rucksack in a hole in the wall. \nI walked up to the castle, there was a fence stopping access to the castle, feeling the temperature drop by about 10 degrees, I was glad I had put my sweater on. \nThe ground was covered in pieces of stone that had fallen from the castle walls over the years. \nThe guide book said that the inside of the castle was too dangerous to be entered. \nApparently, there was a legend of a dangerous creature in the catacombs below the castle. \nPeople had gone missing, the most recent, who a young man, who went missing three years earlier. \nI checked to make sure there was nobody around. It was all clear. I slipped through the fence and entered the building. \nI was in a large entry hall, with several arched doorways leading off it. I put my head torch on and switched it on, and walked through the first arch, the room was thick with dust and broken stone. \n\nI thought I saw something glowing in the dust and rubble. I stepped forward to pick it up, when I felt myself falling. \n\nI fell for a few seconds, above me I could hear the rumble as the stone trapdoor I had triggered, swung back into place.\nAfter shaking myself down, and finding no injuries, luckily, my torch wasn’t broken, which is more than I could say for my camera.\n\nI looked around, I was in a room about twenty feet square, there were three arches leading out of the room. \n\nThen, I noticed something gleaming in the darkness, I carefully made my way over to it, it was an old sword, about two hundred years old. \nThen I noticed laying in a crumpled heap, in the other corner, directly below the trapdoor was a skeleton. It looked like it had been savaged.\nThere were teeth marks in some of the bones, and one leg had been broken. \n\nAs I stood there, still holding the sword, I heard growling. I looked round in a panic, the sound was getting louder. \nI was glad of that my torch had survived the drop. Then from one of the arches came a large wild dog. \nIt stood looking at me, there was drool dripping from its mouth. Suddenly, it launched itself at me.\nI swung my arm up to protect my face, forgetting I still held the sword. \nThe dog impaled its self on the sword, it’s weight dragged the sword from my grip. The dog twitched a couple of times and lay still. \nI quickly retrieved the sword, pulling it from the dogs’ body. I wiped most of the blood off on the dog’s coat. \nI sat and had a drink from my water bottle, I was shaking and spilt more than I drank. \n\nAfter a while, I decided to look for a way out, picking up a small stone from the floor, I scratched a mark on the wall by the first arch. \nI carefully explored the first corridor, behind the first arch, marking the wall as I did so.\nAfter about twenty-five minutes, I came to a large fall of stones, the corridor was blocked. I followed the marks I had made back to the room I had fallen into.\n\nI started searching the second passageway. With the same result. I returned to the start again. I was hungry, so I took a bar of chocolate from my daysack.\nI looked at the skeleton, and thought of the missing man, it looked like I had found him, it looked like he had also stepped on the trapdoor. \nFrom the size of the dog, it could have triggered the trapdoor as well. Getting trapped down here, with the dead body, which it used for food to stay alive. Plus, any rats or mice that it could catch. \n\nAfter eating, I set out to explore the third passageway. \nThis time I must find a way of getting out of the black hole I had found myself in. \nThe third passageway, was clear, and I found a staircase, it lead up to an unbroken ceiling.\nI carefully climbed up, near the top was a candle holder, it looked odd, it was the only one I had seen. \nI thought back to all the mystery programs I had watched while growing up. Was the candle holder the release switch to get out of here. \nI took a deep breath and gripping the candle holder firmly, I pulled it hard, with a grating noise, the candle holder pulled down. \nAbove me a slab of stone swung down away from me. I could smell fresh air. I was out, as I climbed up the stairs and into one of the rooms, the stone slab, swung closed. I carefully left the castle, still holding my blood-stained sword. \nOutside, there was a man dressed in tweed, he looked at me and said, “Where did you come from? and what’s that bloody sword?”\nI told him about the skeleton in the catacombs. He took a mobile phone and phoned a number, he spoke quickly. Then he phoned the police.\n\nWithin an hour, there were people everywhere, including a mountain rescue team. The police took the sword away and wrapped it in an evidence bag.\nI showed them the trapdoor, one of the team, tied a rope around himself and with others holding the rope, walked forward and triggered the trapdoor. \nAs the trapdoor swung down, the men slowly let out the rope, and lowered him into the catacombs.\nAfter a quick search, they found the trigger for the trapdoor, and jammed it open, then they lowered a ladder down into the hole.\nI was asked if I would show them the way out of the catacombs. so, I climbed back into the hole that I had so recently escaped from.\nFollowing the marks that I had made, I took them to the staircase, climbed it and pulled the candle holder, the stone slab swung down and we climbed out from the catacombs. \nThe police retrieved the skeleton from the catacomb, and took it to the mortuary. \n\n\n\nThe man in the tweed suit was still there, he approached me and said, “My name is lord Achnacarry, this castle has been in my family for generations, and I didn’t know about the trapdoor and staircase, thank you for finding the body.”\nI was asked to stay in the area, while the police made inquiries, the man in tweed, Lord Achnacarry, please call me Charlie, invited me to stay with his family. \n\nAfter about a week, the police announced that the skeleton was that of the missing man, it looked like he had triggered the trapdoor, fallen and broken his leg and starved to death in the darkness of the catacombs.\nI shivered, thinking that was an awful way to die, alone and in the dark, with nobody knowing where he was, God alone knows how long he lay there in the cold and dark. \n\nThe next day as I was packing to make the journey back to Fort William, and back to my dreary job in IT, in an office block in Streatham, SW London, a young woman came to the house. \nHer name was Morag McCrae, she was the sister of the missing man, Stuart James McCrae, she thanked me for finding her brother and bringing him home. \nAs we sat talking, I looked at her, sitting with a mug of tea in her hands, her face glowing from the fresh air, and I thought, “why do I have to live in London.?” \nI did return to London, sold my flat, resigned from my job and within a month was living in Fort William. \nWhen I returned to Scotland, Charlie gave me a present to hang over the fireplace in my new home, the sword that I had found in the catacombs. \nThat was two years ago, since then I have brought a house, set up my own IT company, and settled down with a beautiful Scottish girl, called Morag McCrae. \nNext year we will be getting married, Morag is still trying to get me to wear a kilt. No chance, as I keep telling her, “I don’t have the legs for a kilt.”\nOne thing is certain, our first son is going to be called Stuart, after Morag’s late brother. \nI have since returned to the Commando memorial at Spean Bridge and left flowers in memory of my Grand Father. \nOur son’s middle name will be Albert after my Grand Father, the greatest, bravest man I had the honour of knowing. \n\nThe End.\nCopyright 2017. \n\nPhil Wildish. \n" ]	2
	[WP] You found a real world "Mug of Many Things." Whenever you drink from it, what liquid you needed most was in it. Coffee for that boost in being awake, water for the parched, even a little liquor for killing cowardice. Today you taste something truly unexpected.	[ "The old man came around to this bar every day for a few months. He’d sit in the corner lookin’ all frail with sunken eyes and missin’ teeth, holdin’ onto that peculiar mug of his with his right hand and spinning some kind of coin on the table with his left. He was always lookin’ down at that mug – mutterin’ quiet gibberish. He never bothered nobody, and seemed harmless enough, so we all just let him be.\n\nWell, one day my curiosity got the better of me, and it was a slow day, so I walked over to his little dark corner and said to him, “hey, old man, what’s that coin I always see you spinnin’?” He just kept on mutterin’ to himself for a second or two and then stopped. He raised his head up and said, “c’mon now closer here, son, and I’ll tell ya all about this here chip.”\n\n“Oh, a chip, I know all about chips.” I sat down across from him.\n\nHe peered at me with his milky eyes, like he was studyin’ me. “Do ya, son? You know all about being on the wagon just to fall right off?”\n\n“Well, no sir, I ain’t ever had a drinkin’ problem but my daddy sure as hell did and he made damn sure if he weren’t havin’ a good time in life then nobody was. But that piece of shit left me and my momma when I was about thirteen, I s’pose. Best thing he ever did. My momma says I look like him when he was my age but shit if I know. Don’t make a damn to me.” The old man muttered some gibberish and looked back down at that mug.\n\n“Ya know, old man, I ain’t nearly as curious about that chip as I am that mug.”\n\n“Why’s that?” he asked.\n\n“’Cause you lookin’ at it like you tryin’ to blame it,” I said to him. He let out a few high pitched geezer chuckles and said: “That is the question though, ain’t it? Who or what done it? Who or what done fucked up: me or the mug?”\n\nI sat there and had a think on it and said to him, “if you askin’ me, then you the one that fucked up.” The geezer started back mutterin’ gibberish for another second or two while looking down at that mug. I lifted my head up to get a gander at it.\n\n“Old man, I see you holdin’ onto that mug every day, all day, and I ain’t ever seen you fill it up with anything or take a sip.” The old man looked up, tears runnin’ down his cheek, and he said to me, “son, I didn’t know what I truly needed until I started comin’ here, and what I needed this cup can’t give me.” The old man drops the chip on the floor and takes a sip from the mug. “But it can give me what I need now.”\n\nThe old man passed away right there before my eyes. Now, I ain’t much of a drinker, though I work this here bar, but it’d seem wrong if I didn’t down one for that old man using that old mug he loved so much. Here's to the old man. May he rest in peace.", "I picked up my mug, thirsty from work. I had been carrying multitudes of packages in the hot summer heat for customers in various places. My water bottle was empty by the time I was halfway done, and I couldn't bring my mug for fear it would break. I decided that once it got home I would immediately drink from my mug. I looked in the mug; currently empty. Hoping for a cold drink, I took a swig in the cup for a taste.\nI spit out a mouthful of hydrogen peroxide.\nMy mouth was burning, and I had even swallowed a tiny bit. I ran to my sink and cupped water into my mouth. My phone buzzed in my pocket, and after getting the disgusting taste of peroxide out of my mouth, I checked to see what I had received. \nThe text message had read, \"Ruin your life as much as possible. You will save the world doing that.\"\nI was at first confused, thinking it was a prank. But when the lights suddenly went out and I someone shooting, I took action. First I texted my girlfriend of six years and told her that we were breaking up, adding in that I was cheating on her. Next I texted my parents who had loved me unconditionally that I never loved them back. My boss who was also a close friend of mine got a message saying that I was quitting and that I hoped he would die. I looked at my dog, opened my door, and kicked him into the street. I took a bottle from the refrigerator and smashed it on my head. Logging on to my computer, I looked up drug deals and child pornography, and opened up my history bar. 'Just two more things,' I thought, dialing the police to prank call them. They had obviously been angry at me, and with them being nearby, they could easily catch me in my tracks. Finally, I wrote something on my phone, took a swig of the hydrogen peroxide, and waited for the poison to take me away.\n\n~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~\nThe police had found the dead body of Jacob Sterlington in his home on 9289 Maple Street. There was a mug of hydrogen peroxide in his hands, as well as his phone. The hydrogen peroxide was confirmed to be the reason he died. Police say that the death had been ruled a suicide, as there were no traces of anyone else coming in that day. His phone had a message, written as an unsent text.\n\"I love my girlfriend Marisa with all my heart, and I was preparing to marry her. My parents are the best people, and I return all their feelings.\n My boss is my closest friend, as well as the best I could've asked for.\n Hershey, my dog, is amazing, and I wouldn't have hurt him if my life depended on it.\n Hurting myself is something I would never do.\n Drugs are never okay, and child pornography is the worst thing to own or produce.\n Prank calling the police is horrible, as they do so much for us.\n Everything I did today was a lie. I am speaking from the bottom of my heart.\"\nThe man had received a text today about saving the word by ruining his life. There was obvious gunfire and a nationwide power outage, so the police can only assume it was correct. Mr. Sterlington has received proper burial and is known as a hero among many. Rest in peace, Jacob Sterlington.", "Groggy. Eyes crustily sealed shut. A throbbing in his temples. \n\nCoffee. \n\nRolling out of bed, his feet firmly planted on the cold tile floor. The sun failed to shine through his open windows, instead taking refuge behind the pendulous clouds that were sure to bring afternoon showers. Summer had been more humid than usual this year. His legs stretched mightily, and his arms soon followed. What roast would he partake in this morning? Perhaps an espresso, or latte. The mug always seemed to know the best way to start the day. \n\nButtoning up his night shirt and adjusting the waistband on his pajama pants, the man took a deep breath and released the air through his nose. Relaxation. Hopefully the paperboy wasn’t late today with his copy of The Times. A robust breakfast would accompany the paper. Eggs. Toast with butter. Bacon. \n\nSalivating. Wipes away the dust in his eyes. Stands and yawns. \n\nAs he did every early morning, he made his way to the bathroom. It took the spigot a moment for the water to reach the chilled temperature he was accustomed to. He gave himself a mighty splash to shock the senses. The towel next to the sink was soft and beige, and he was careful to dry each section of his face individually. \n\nMaking his way to the kitchen, he turned on the stove and set the burner to a low temperature. He enjoyed buttered toast the way you’d make a grilled cheese, only without the cheese. Knowing it would take a few minutes to heat up, he decided to check for the paper. Pulling the curtain aside from one of the windows that flanked his front door, he could see that it still hadn’t arrived. \n\nLate again. How frustrating. He’d had to have a talk with that paperboy about promptness. \n\nDeciding to go back to the kitchen, he stopped in front of the hallway mirror. More gray hairs. He’d lost track of how many had sprouted up in the last few years. Before retirement he’d taken such pride in his artificially blackened, well-maintained hair; a cut that you could set your watch to. Businessmen, he reasoned, always respected a man who oozed virility. Nowadays, in his empty house, he scarcely felt the need to impress strangers. It was a good feeling after many years of expressing the opposite to have that kind of freedom. \n\nReaching into his breadbox, he pulled two slices apart. The refrigerator light illuminated the floor and counters as it seemingly had gotten a tad darker outside. His butter tray was almost empty, and he knew he’d have to refill it. Taking a knife from the block, he carefully and slowly spread the salted butter on each piece, making sure that they had the perfect amount and were covered on both sides. He dropped them onto the pan to give them a quick browning. He swallowed, and could tell that he was parched. His morning cup of coffee would do the trick. \n\nIt was a quaint gift, he thought to himself. His wife who had passed away nearly a decade prior bought it for him on one of her business trips to Europe. A “Cup of Plenty” she was told it was, and that the bearer would never go thirsty while they had it. It would always fill with whatever they desired to drink at the time. He recalled the nights they’d spend swapping the cup back and forth- her drinking the chardonnay she loved and him with his bold and tannic Cabernet blends. They’d giggle drunkenly and have dare the other to try some new and exciting brew or beverage. Those nights, he remembered, were always lovely. He missed her. Pulling the cup from the cupboard he always kept it in, he thought deeply for a moment about what he’d like. \n\nCappuccino, light foam. Two pumps of espresso. Cinnamon. \n\nRaising the mug to his lips, he expected to be greeted by the fluffiness of the foam, just as he had hundreds of mornings before. He was perplexed when he felt nothing. Glancing down, it was the same cup he’d used for many, many years. Turning it upside down, no liquid spilled on to the floor. Was this it? Was the mug’s magic broken? Why wouldn’t anything come out?\n\nJust then, he felt a very, very unfamiliar tenseness in his chest, as if his heart was being squeezed by the hands of fate itself. \n\nDizzy. Can’t stand. Falling. \n\nStill so thirsty. \n", "Another day, another visit to the good ol' bar. \n \nHey, life wasn't always fun, and sometimes people just needed to forget, right?\nCosmo sighed, as he ordered a drink and sat down on the chair in front of his favorite table, the one in the very back by the corner. Sometimes, he just felt the urge to drink alone. \n\nHe was a businessman of the international variety. You know, the type that travels all over the world and is never home. As a result, he'd come home this time to an empty house and angry letter from his wife, saying she was done. Wives really were wonderful, weren't they? What happened to the all the romance and sweetness before they were married? Wait, was she even the sweet type to begin with? \n\nHe chugged down the beer that he'd ordered, before taking out his secret, precious treasure. Ah, yes. A wonderful chalice of dreams, a \"mug of many things,\" that would provide whatever drink he needed the most. As he prepared to pour some out, his peace was suddenly disturbed by a newcomer.\n\n\"You look worn, bro.\"\n\nIt was a friendly-looking, short-statured, thin bearded man. His voice was somewhat high-pitched voice, and he gave off a really strange yet friendly impression. He wore large, black sunglasses, and he had a wry smile as he plopped down on the chair across from Cosmo.\n\n\"I'm Chad. Wanna talk about it?\"\n\nSomehow, although Chad looked friendly, Cosmo still felt somewhat uncomfortable. Deciding to ignore him for the moment, Cosmo poured out the liquid and took a swig.\n\nThis. This was definitely familiar. That burning sensation... that feeling... he'd tasted it once before in Shanghai, when an acquaintance had poured him some as a prank. This... three-penis wine! The ultimate aphrodisiac alcohol, made from the xxxs of three different animals! He spit it out in shock. This was bad. His wife was nowhere to be found, and that could only mean... right? No, no way! He didn't swing that way!\n\n\"You know what... I think I have to go.\"\n\nHe ignored Chad's somewhat disappointed look and ran away from the bar as fast as he could after paying, and ran home. In hindsight, he could have probably just called a taxi. Much to his surprise, the lights were on, and he was greeted... by Chad!\n\n\"Eeeeeek! Why are you here!\" he screamed. \"I'm straight, straight! Help, police, it's a stalker!\"\n\n\"Pffft, stupid as always. You really didn't recognize me.\"\n\n\"Chad\" pulled off the beard and tossed away the sunglasses. Suddenly, Cosmo found himself staring at his wife, who was holding her sides in pain while laughing at him. \n\n\"I knew you'd go to that bar. So I thought I'd prank you a bit. I can't believe you actually ran all the way home, though. That was too funny!\"\n\nYep, this was definitely his wife. Not an ounce of sweetness to be found. He sighed in relief. So she hadn't hated him, after all! He took out the \"mug of many things,\" and gave it a little kiss. \n\n\"I'm sorry for doubting you! I knew you'd never let me down!\" \n\nAnd felt a sudden chill through his entire body, as his wife glared at him. \n\n\"You're kissing a cup before you kiss me? You're in for it!\"\n\nThey say the whole neighborhood heard his screams that night. \n\n", "Until about a week ago, I would have told you that having a Mug of Many Things is the best thing that can happen to you. You always have the liquid you need, whenever you need it, and as much as you need. It doesn’t really let you dump anything out, usually, but when you never have to worry about having a drink again, that isn’t something that worries you. There also isn’t much control, though you can flavor what you get a little bit. It mostly just gives you what you need, and as much of it as you need. Simple, effective, and surprisingly there’s no catch. Best part is, almost no one would ever believe one of these could even exist, let alone that you have one, so you also don’t have to worry about people trying to steal it. \n \nHere’s the thing. Anyone, or anything, that knows you do in fact have a “Mug of Many Things” will be out to get it, and you won’t matter much to them. So, let me tell the story of a week ago, and why I curse this mug daily now, even though it’s the only thing keeping me sane. This isn’t going to be a recommendation you pick one of these up. It’s a warning, telling you to stay away, before it ruins your life. \n \nThe morning of one week ago, I woke up to my alarm like usual. The sun was just peeking over the horizon as I started getting ready for work, sipping the allowance of coffee the Mug always provided. It was just enough to get me going, as usual, and I smiled as I stepped into the shower. Everything seemed normal and happy. However, though I hadn’t noticed it at the time, the birds had stopped chirping. \n \nAs I stepped out of the shower, I started getting dressed. Pulling my shirt on over my head, I paused. There had been a barely noticeable creak as my front door moved. Most people wouldn’t have noticed, I suppose, but that creak always set me on edge. This was worse, because I knew it should have been locked and unable to move. Which means someone had just opened my front door. Grabbing a decorative glass bottle sitting on the windowsill, I cracked the door slightly. I had to bite my tongue not to gasp out loud. \n \nStanding in the hallway was a man. He was dressed in dark grey jeans, a black shirt, and a black leather jacket. His features were appealing and his hair perfectly styled. It was his eyes that scared me. They were glowing red. A dark, angry red that made me think of blood, and murder. It gave me the shivers, and I shook all over. Eyes shouldn’t glow like that. Then he smiled, and his teeth nearly made me should. He had fangs, long, sharp ones that screamed out against anything natural. \n \nThe stranger laughed and I shivered at the sinister feeling the sound had. \n \n“I can hear your heart pumping. Just give me the Mug, and I’ll probably let you live. Don’t make me kill you, it’s always messy and distasteful.” \n \nMy heart skipped a beat. First of all, he could hear my heartbeat? I knew that certain animals could probably do that but there was no way some cosplaying home invader could. He must have just noticed me cracking the door, and been trying to freak me out. Second, how the fuck did he know about the Mug? I’d never told anyone, and I’d been really careful to act like I’d been filling it occasionally at the office to avoid suspicion. My fist tightened around the bottle as I considered opening the door and throwing it at him. \n \nThe stranger’s smile widened into a predator’s grin. “Oh, please, make this fun. While killing you would be messy, you making a fight of it would be at the very least amusing.” \n \nI stopped cold just as I’d been about to open the door. It simply wasn’t possible for him to hear me… Was it? Finally, I narrowed my eyes and ground my teeth together. No one invaded my home, scared the shit out of me, and got to make demands of me. Not before I damn well tried to do something about it. Swinging the door wide, I threw the glass bottle at the stranger. Moving faster than his hand should have been able to, he caught it. I stared, and then slammed the door shut again. \n \nLeaning against the other side of the door, I looked around desperately. Finally, I reached out and grabbed the mug. Maybe whatever was in it would give me an idea. I tipped it back, and then stared at in shock. There was nothing in it. That didn’t happen. It always contained something, even if it was just water. \n \nI struggled to figure out what to do, when suddenly the door slammed open and I was launched across the room. Slamming into the sink, I turned to face the stranger. Standing there with a sardonic grin on his face, he held out his hand, like he knew I had nowhere to go. I stared at the mug as it slowly filled with a clear liquid. I looked up at him, and then back at the cup. Sipping it, I wrinkled my eyebrows. It was just water. \n \nLooking up at the stranger, I finally realized why his look was so familiar, and yet made me want to cringe. He looked like, well, a vampire. Looking down at the water, I had a sinking feeling. Deciding to try something that had never worked before, I sloshed the contents of the Mug directly onto him. With a scream, he staggered backward as the water evaporated off of him in a cloud of steam, leaving behind burn marks in it’s wake. Narrowing his eyes, he lunged at me. \n \n“I’ll get you for that, human.” \n \nIgnoring for the moment my extreme confusion, I tried to hit him with the Mug. Dodging my motion fluidly he grabbed onto my throat, starting to choke me. I began gasping for air, my exertion leaving me out of breath even before my supply of air had been cut off. Staggering backwards, I kicked outwards and hit him between the legs.It didn’t affect him the way I thought it would, but it did knock him off balance for a second. Lunging forwards, I did the first thing that came to mind. I bit him in the neck. \n \nBitter, sticky, wrong blood filled my mouth, but I clung on, forcing me to swallow. Nearly puking, I bit down tighter, trying to sever something. The stranger was yelling and trying to swat me off, but I think I’d surprised him. Finally I got slammed into the wall and had to let go to breath. I fell to the floor gasping, clutching the Mug in both hands. The stranger stumbled away, gurgling, and then my front door slams open. Finally, my house is quiet. \n \nStanding up, I staggered out into the hallway. Shutting the front door, I locked it, though the gesture felt futile. Finding my way into the living room, I sat down, exhausted and sore. I spit on the carpet, trying to clean my mouth of that awful taste. Finally, I had to try and come to terms with what had happened. I thought vampires weren’t real, but then again, I owned a Mug of Many Things. Maybe I shouldn’t be so quick to judge. Shuddering, I lay back and closed my eyes. \n \nA few hours later, I came to, my head pounding. I was burning up, and I stumbled as I tried to stand up. Crawling to the bathroom, I puked up everything in my stomach and then lay there moaning. My phone, cracked, lay on the floor of the bathroom. I had three missed calls from work. Shaking my head, I shoved it aside weakly. I wasn’t in any condition to talk to people. Suddenly the clouds outside parted and the room was bathed with sunshine. It felt too warm, and the light pierced my eyes like the worst hangover you can imagine. \n \nI stayed that way for the next few days. Somewhere in there I managed to call in to work, and I tried to eat. Nothing would stay down, and I kept puking it up. The mug I was paying so dearly for stayed next to me, and I kept drinking out of it. It was just water, nothing else was ever in it. I didn’t know what to think about that, but I kept drinking it. Then, two days ago, it happened. I felt a little better, though sunlight still hurt my eyes and everything sounded… wrong. Too sharp and clear, it made my ears hurt. I went to make breakfast, but I wasn’t hungry for anything in my kitchen. In fact, the thought of food made me ill, so I ignored it for now. Leaning up against the kitchen counter, I pondered my predicament, and wondered why my assailant hadn’t returned while I’d been incapacitated. As I mused I took a drink out of the Mug, and froze. \n \nIt was blood. And it tasted like the best drink I’d ever had.\n", "I've had this mug for a few years now. My dad, God rest his soul, passed on. This mug was one of the few things he bequeathed to me. It was strange. I never needed to fill it up. You could leave it perfectly empty, and yet when you pressed it to your lips, you got something. I've had water, coffee, orange juice, alcohol, and once even melted chocolate. However, I was never prepared for what happened on July 17th of this year.\n\nIt was another normal day. I ate breakfast and went off to work. I brought the mug with me, thinking I could skip the long rush of drive-through coffee chains and just get to work. I had just arrived at the government office I worked at when, too eager, I took a sip from the mug, expecting hot, fresh, rich coffee. What I got was the most vile liquid that has ever disgraced my taste buds. It felt like I was drinking molten sewage covered in vomit. The mug fell from my hands as I leaned over some bushes and retched. That was when I heard the explosion behind me. The office's lower floors were levelled, and the upper floors crumbled and collapsed. I bolted from the collapsing building into safety across the street. \n\nWe were in a turbulent political state at the time. There was a prominent rebellion growing and taking form. This was their latest act of subversion. Bombing a government office. Had I not drank that vile liquid, I would have been liquefied myself. Shaking my head in disbelief, I wandered away, lamenting that the mug that saved my life was now lost in the rubble. \n\nA few days later, I opened the cupboard to get a coffee mug, and to my surprise my Mug of Plenty was there. A Post-It note was attached to it. In handwriting I couldn't place, the note read:\n\n\"I'm not finished with you yet. Take the mug. Keep living. There is more work to be done.\"", "Ah, Lady Grey Tea. I usually had Earl Grey, but with the wind picking up, this was the perfect substitute. I sighed happily, swishing the last drops of tea around in the mug before draining them. After carefully attaching the mug to my belt, I stood and stretched. There was work to be done...\n\nThe wreck had happened two weeks ago. I'd managed to crash the plane on a fairly large island, but even so, I doubted anyone was coming for me. My radio equipment was in bad shape before the wreck, but now, it was done for. I'd been able to salvage quite a lot of material - some of it supplies I'd been carrying, some of it parts of the aircraft itself - and built myself a lovely vacation home. If you can call a fiberglass and sheet metal hut dug into a hillside a vacation home, anyway. Oh well. It is what it is.\n\nTwo hours of sorting junk later, I was getting tired. I pulled out the mug and held it in my hand, wondering what new liquid it would bring me. Tomato soup? Hearty beef broth? Chocolate milk? Yesterday, I'd gotten some fancy sparkling beverage. The contents seemed to swirl out of nowhere, slowly filling the mug. Hey! Gatorade! I guess I was sweating more than I thought. I chugged the cool beverage, then once again hooked the mug on my belt.\n\nMy mug saved my life, I can tell you that. I have no idea how, but it can summon any sort of liquid, and it can sense exactly what I need. Feeling tired? Some strong coffee. Thirsty? Cool, clear water. Have some time to kill? A lovely wine to compliment the sunset. Granted, I'd tried to focus on a nice steak, or even one of those mug-brownie things, but it seemed like it could only do liquids. Oh, well. For now, it was keeping me alive, and I wasn't going to complain. Much.\n\nI went back to sorting junk. A box full of nails; handy, as long as I could keep them from rusting. And could find a hammer. A box full of... broken glass? Hmm. A box full of - MREs! Hurrah, solid food! I almost danced for joy. Then I did dance for joy - who would see me? One refreshing mac-and-cheese later, I started in on unpacking the other boxes. Clothes - too small. A tool chest! Hammer, and... oh. Saw, drill, and a bunch of other electrical stuff. Not very useful if you don't happen to have a magic outlet around.\n\nThat evening, I enjoyed a lovely broth dip with some dried toast.\n\nThe next morning, after my tea - Chai, traditionally prepared - I opened the next box to find a generator! A water-powered generator, at that! Except... I didn't have any running water. And the generator specifically called out salt water as being a big no no. Well, blast. Maybe I could build some sort of platform up the hill, purify water with sunlight and... well, I could get something, anyway. A few minutes to charge tools, maybe. Or, who knows, maybe there was another generator that ran on salt water, and I'd only have to cart thousands of gallons of salt water up a hill, and could skip the purification step. Yay.\n\nAs I pondered the generator, I reached for my mug, only to find it sloshing liquid out already. I took a sip. Water? I wasn't really in the mood. Whiskey, maybe. Or even coffee. But not water. I dumped it out, and went back to studying the generator - only to find it overflowing on my hand a few seconds later. What the heck? It never did that before! I stared at it as the water moved from dribbling over the side to sloshing heartily. It really seemed to think I needed... water! Running water! Of course! Excitedly, I set the mug down, and quickly put the generator together. Soon, it was complete. I grabbed the mug - now a hand-held fountain - and set it upside down over the generator's input pipe. It filled for a second, then began moving slowly, as the light on top flashed green! It worked! I had power!\n\nBy nightfall, I had built a seal for the top of the mug, pressing it against a rubber ring, right into the pipe. By now, it was gushing out a geyser; I had to add a big clamp to keep it from shooting off into the night! The generator read 85% capacity; I plugged in a string of lights, the battery chargers, and wonder of wonders, my cell phone. Sure, it wouldn't get a signal, but at least now I could play games, right?\n\nAnd tomorrow, I can start working on getting the radio working... or maybe that air conditioner I saw a few minutes ago.", "You take a sip from your mug, watching your hands. Even as the sweet water slids down your throat, you watch the kidney spots and creases fade and smooth out. The arthritic pain eases, and your joints are free again. You smile an unwrinkled smile and apply color to your lips.\n\nThere comes a knock on your bed chamber door. \"Enter.\"\n\n\"My lady,\" a knight enters and bows. He starts for a moment, taking in your youthful face, but that is not why he hesitates to speak.\n\n\"Do you have news, Sir....?\" His face is unfamiliar to you. So many knights came and went through the years, you don't bother keeping track anymore. \n\n\"Sir Wendell, my lady. I fought alongside your husband,\" he replies.\n\n\"Ah, then he is home. Please send him to me at his earliest convenience. I have matters of importance to discuss with him,\" you say, and wave him to go away.\n\n\"He is not well, my lady. He was wounded in our last battle and requests your presence immediately. He is not well.\"\n\nIt is as if a frigid hand clasps your heart, willing it to freeze and beat no more. You clutch your mug to your chest, and it warms to try to chase the ice in your chest away. The only one who has ever returned your love is waiting for you.\n\nYou hastily get up, knocking your vanity chair over. Your feet must have feathers for how quickly they fly down the stone, spiral stairs. Were the halls always so long and streaching? Were the servants' stares always so heavy and piercing?\n\nYou fling open the door to the doctor's chamber and immediately see your beloved lying on a bed. The sheets are stained with the blood that has seeped through his bandages. Your knees sink you down beside him. He is not breathing.\n\n\"NO!\" you cry. You take your mug and poor liquid into his unmoving lips. His throat does not swallow the sweet water of life, so you poor it onto his bandages too. Perhaps it will sink into his wounds. Anything to get the fluid into his body. Anything to bring him back.\n\nThe doctor emerges from the corner he had been watching from. \"My lady, he is gone. He was alive when they arrived at the castle, but passed away upon entering my chambers. I am very sorry that there was nothing I could do.\"\n\nThe mug had never failed you before. It had fed you soup when you were just a starving street girl. It had cured you from consumption with bitter medicine. It had kept you young and beautiful all these years with the sweet water of the fountain of youth. But it is not bringing your beloved back. In this moment, you cannot live without him.\n\nYou tears drop into the mug, and when you look inside, the liquid is something you have never seen before. It is as black as an inky, moonless night and has a sheen of emerald green. You do not question this. The mug has always provided you with what you need.\n\nYou have never drank a sweeter poison.", "I still don't precisely know whether I won't or even can't get rid of that strange mug gifted to me by a stranger many a year ago. Whether it was a psychosomatic dependency or an actual addictive quality I may never truly understand but that cup has theoretically saved my life countless times now.\n\nIn outer appearance it's merely a Thermos cup, red metal with a black plastic base, cover and lid. Well, I say \"Lid\" but the truth is that it cannot be opened. Even the moment when I received it I tried to open it to fill it but it simply didn't open but it still had contents inside. And even \"Contents\" would be a loose truth as the cup quite literally had every possible liquid in the world to drink and at the precise moment I needed it.\n\nEarly morning and struggling to wake up? Coffee of variable kinds, from jet black to espresso to latte to mocha. Feeling thirsty? Ice-cold water or even milk. Going into a meeting with my bosses? Liquor just strong enough to give me the extra kick of courage I needed without becoming completely drunk.\n\nAnd it only worked for me. I've offered the mug to others in order to see what would happen and they've only been able to drink coffee from the mug. At first I thought it was just me... until the other day.\n\nIt was relatively normal walking to work when the bizarre, sweet taste hit my lips. It was almost like lemon but without the sharp bitter sourness. There was also some orange, some mandarin and a hint of mango plus the sweetness of honey. At first I thought of how strange it was... until a sudden pain began to riddle through my body. I managed to run into the skyscraper where I worked, ignoring the security guard and secretary at the front desk to enter the bathroom and lock myself in a stall, hoping that maybe I'll vomit what I just drank up.\n\nThere was no such luck as pain riddled through my body. I couldn't even scream as my body began to break itself apart. The plates of my back shattered as my spinal cord was stretched outward like a rack. My ribs were pulled apart as my lungs felt like they were being filled like water balloons. I could feel every tooth explode within my mouth as blood poured down my throat and onto the toilet I was crouching onward.\n\nAnd then there was pure black, but not due to myself fainting. No, the lights began to flicker and died soon after with the sound of crashing all around. I could almost make out the sound of screaming somewhere else.\n\nAnd yet, I felt perfectly fine a few moments later. No... I was better than fine. I felt fantastic. As I stood, easily pushing debris and rubble away from on top of me, I didn't feel even the slightest amount of resistance despite having tonnes of concrete and steel atop of myself.\n\nWhen I got out I heard sirens and the sounds of distressed people all around before looking around. The skyscraper had collapsed completely, somehow destroyed. At the time I considered that maybe it was a terrorist attack or some sort of accident. Later on the news I saw what had caused so much destruction - a chunk of rock easily 12 metres in height, 14 and 13 across, blasted into the air by a volcano a couple of states directily into the building.\n\nEven now, looking at the mug on the table I'm still considering precisely what it had produced. I mean... there was an enormous explosion when it hit the earth. I tanked it. That boulder is estimated to have weight about 90 tons and it only shattered the second it hit me.\n\nAnd of course it did, as now I looked like a God. I was now about seven feet tall, an office worker known to be just under the scale of \"Obese\" transformed into an Adonis that would make pro-bodybuilders seem lithe in frame. It didn't do me any favors as it meant that none of my clothing could even think of fitting onto my frame any longer. It was a wonder that the underwear I was wearing at the time survived.\n\nEven now I was considering my options. It was absolutely definite that I no longer had a job as it was basically destroyed and as to my current issue there was an absolute certainty that people would notice that I wasn't what would be considered \"Normal\" or \"Human.\"\n\nFor the last few hours I was testing out what had become of my body. Well, yes, I most definitely could lift any of the furniture in my apartment with ease including my wardrobe, sofa and bed frame on one hand at the same time. But I also poured boiling hot water straight from the kettle down onto my stomach, steam rising from my gut. Hell, even the searing-hot metal sat comfortably in my hand. And I had destroyed every form of cutlery in my kitchen as I had tried to cut myself, either riding it along the skin of my arms or while attempting to shave the curled beard that had developed onto my face as well.\n\nAnd this wasn't even the other real concern I had to now concern myself with. Whatever I was now, I was definitely not human but super-human... and therefore had other biological issues. As soon as the sensation of hunger or thirst began to set in I tried to ease it only to discover that the entirety of the contents of my pantry, cupboards, fridge and freezer could no longer satisfy me even as I devoured the lot in an hour. It's been four hours now since I ran out of food and the entire time I had the head of my shower within my mouth and gulping down all the water that had come out with my throat only feeling dryer with each passing moment.\n\nI soon collapsed, the water pouring over my shining form, releasing what could be described as a glistening shine upon its touch as the shower soaked me. Even if the situation was beyond my comprehension, this moment was even moreso. I felt, I was so much more powerful but I felt so weak.\n\nI turned off the shower, soon dragging my feet out into the combined kitchen-living room when I saw it on the counter. The mug attracted me, almost like heroin to an addict. I even felt drawn to it, my colossal hand raising up to grab it before pulling away as I stared at it.\n\n'Would you be able to continue to fulfill my needs?' I asked the mug rhetorically. 'Even like this?'\n\n'That mug will provide you everything you need, as was the case when you first received it,' a voice called from nowhere in particular. 'Have you even tried to drink anything from it since it saved your life?'\n\n'Who is that?' I demanded. 'Show yourself!'\n\n'Don't consider me a threat,' he said as the sound now had a definitive source, a corner of my apartment that had somehow become impossibly dark before light returned to it. 'Why... I should be rather scared of you, Hank.'\n\n'Who are you?' I asked the being before me. 'And how did you get in here?'\n\n'I think you'd rather be asking, \"What are you\", and to that I can answer that I am the same as you,' the man said. 'I'm a god. To be specific, my name is Loki. Pleased to meet you.'\n\n---\n\nChapter 2 coming soon", "Frank groaned looking over his finances.\n\n\"Another 700 deficit this month dear\"\n\nFrom the kitchen came the reply \"we ought to cancel these Google mug and food box subscriptions then\"\n\nGoogle had been a great deal as a food supplier once they got in the business but as time went on Frank began to wonder if these price increases were truly warranted\n\n\"The grocery stores really have lowered their prices to compete\" Jim added \"we could just go back to grocery runs\"\n\nFrank sighed and looked into his mug as it swirled in color with a gentle hum. Sometimes he wondered whether many of their conveniences were affordable. The teleporter ran the electric bill up while gas would be so cheap. Sometimes he wondered just how much he could do without.\n\n\"I don't know how I could part with this mug though\" said Frank \"I can't find a better cup of coffee on this side of the state and besides, it's the insurance that is really eating our lunch\" \n\nHowever after another sip he began coughing and spitting, nearly spilling the cup. \n\n\"Lighter fluid?\" ", "The alley warped as I tried to walk in a straight line. I half-leaned, half-fell against the brick wall, my heart pounding. I heard the back door to restaurant open, its rusty hinges screaming into the night.\n\n“Shit!” I heard the sound of a garbage bag hitting the pavement as Frank surveyed the scene. “Bill? Are you okay? Who the fuck is lying on the ground?”\n\nI took a deep breath and tried to find some words, but none came. I managed to turn back towards Frank and the light from the open door. He jogged up to me, looking around wildly.\n\n“Hey, what happened?” Frank put his hands on my shoulders and bent over to look at my face. I was curling in on myself, my stomach turning.\n\n“That guy,” I rasped, trying to steady my breathing. I lifted a shaky finger at the prone figure, but didn’t look up. “Jumped me. Fucking bit me!”\n\n“Well, calm down. It looks like you won!” Frank flashed a half-hearted smile and shrugged his shoulders. “We can close up early and take you to the hospital. Did you lay his ass out or what?”\n\nI inhaled again, determined to drive away the shivering that was attempting to take over. “Well, I had that grease pot in my hands when he attacked.”\n\n“Oh.” Frank looked back, just now noticing the huge, filthy oil container we used to carry old grease to the recycle container. It was still steaming, and so was my attacker. “He’s definitely going to need an ambulance then. You get any on you?”\n\n“Just a little,” I said, raising my forearm. There was a patch of small blisters popping up where I’d received a little splashback from hurling the molten fry grease on that asshole.\n\nHe grimaced. “Well, could have been worse. Maybe the district manager will let us off for having a medical since it happened during an assault.”\n\nI could tell he was trying to make a joke, but it fell flat. It seemed like managers spent twenty percent of the day actually working, and the rest fretting over whether or not a workplace accident would occur and what would happen to them if it did. When the zombie apocalypse rolls around they’re all going to have heart attacks, I thought.\n\nThe rest of the night was a blur. I narrowly avoided getting hauled to the hospital, though I did have to sit through a rather lengthy police interview. The guy I had assaulted had come to and run off while we were waiting on the cops, so at least I hadn’t murdered anyone. At least not yet. I mean, dude couldn’t be doing real well after taking a boiling hot grease bath.\n\nThat damn bite, though. It was right on my shoulder, and it was burning like a son-of-a-bitch. As soon as I got home I poured alcohol into it and then poured some alcohol into me. Before I passed out, I poured myself a cup of water and placed it on my nightstand, keeping it ready for my morning struggles.\n\nI woke up too early. It was still dark outside, and I was covered in a cold sweat. It felt like… like there was something in my room. Not someone, something. I tried to still my breathing so I could listen for sounds, but I couldn’t. My heart was beating against my ribcage like a caged animal.\n\nAnd I was thirsty. So thirsty. \n\nI took a long pull of the water from my mug, tried to swallow, then spit it out. My throat almsot sealed shut, keeping it out. My stomach roiled against it. Cursing, I stumbled to the kitchen. Throwing open the fridge, I tried the OJ, milk, and pineapple juice (which was ridiculous, I’d been saving that for rum). All bad.\n\nI felt weak, all of my options gone. What the hell was wrong with me? That bum must have given me something, some kind of flu. I stumbled into the living room to grab the phone when something caught my eye.\n\nMy father’s trophy case glinted in the secondhand light from the kitchen. Various artifacts rested there, horns, knifes, and ancient tools… But only one caught my eye. There was an ornate mug, one he had said was used in the ancient rituals of some… tribe. Shit, I never paid much attention. He said it would turn any liquid into what you desperately needed.\n\nFuck it. I smashed the glass, not bothering to look for the key. Dad had already long passed, paying for his adventures with his life and just leaving me this load of garbage. If he was alive he’d pitch a fit about me running cold water into an ancient artifact.\n\nBut he wasn’t alive, and I felt like I was dying.\n\nI held the cup, swirling around the tap water and thinking about just how stupid I was, when the water starting to turn dark… and thicken? Holy shit. It was working.\n\nWithout thinking too much about it, I turned the cup up. Thick, hot, coppery fluid rushed into my mouth, easing down my throat and exploding into my body. I felt better already, before I was even done drinking.\n\nI finished the cup greedily, then ran my finger around the inside to soak up the leftovers. My finger came away dark red, a blood red.\n\nBlood. Holy shit. I recognized the taste from skateboard and bike wipeouts when I was little. I wanted to gag, to throw up, but my body didn’t agree with my mind. I felt as right as rain.\n\n“Yes. It is blood.” A voice rasped from the darkness of my hallway. “And thank you for leading me to the artifact.”\n\nA tall figure, dressed in a brown trenchcoat took a step into the light, revealing his half melted face. He faintly smelled of used vegetable oil and fried meat.\n\n[/r/intotheslushpile](https://www.reddit.com/r/intotheslushpile/)\n " ]	11
	[WP] Describe an Apple.	[ "I saw her abstract shape, sitting in a plain fruit bowl on my mom's counter top. Wide curves at the top of her, slimming down to a crown made of arcs at the bottom. I smirked, and she blushed a dark shade of red, a perfect rose color. She had a glossy shine, a reflection of the chandelier hanging above us. The white lenticels on her skin made her look like she contained a galaxy with a sweet nectar on the inside. I bit into her skin, my tongue finding the sweet nectar and crisp fruit that I desired. My favorite fruit; a red apple. " ]	1
	[WP] You're the chosen one. Everyone's told you this all your life. The problem is nobody knows what you're chosen for.	[ "The way my mother looks at me. Dilated pupils fixated upon me, hazel irises cracking with anticipation. A distant sadness. It's the same way a lot of people look at me. Strangers. People I've never met before, their eyes bright just where the light is reflected, dim everywhere else. The President--the Commander In Chief--gives me this look. During meetings, briefings, of national security. The large desks before and between us spread end to end with manilla folders like butter to a bagel. But I can't eat a bite. That is--in the pit of my stomach, I have no idea what's going on. File after file laid on the table by secretary men and military men, and women alike, contain mug shots and red-stamp titles. Conspiracies, espionage; natural hazards; impending apocalyptic prophecies--assassination attempts. On me. On my mother. On family near and/or distant. On the President, in my name. Threats from other countries. Calls of war, denial of economic trades, goods, and jobs. Private space exploration and plans for celestial colonization tripling in quantity and effort. Countries having governments overthrown, and states such as Hawaii and Alaska seceding to Japanese and Russian control--The President allowing it to happen. Nobody intervened. Everyone just stood, looking at me. The secretary men and military men, and women alike. The cameramen and make-up artists, the indiscriminate crowds. My friends; my family. My mother--that crack in her eye. And nobody knows what to expect, nor why. Not even me. ", "A man approaches in a white reflective suit. He moves slowly and bounces forward with only the sort of patience that comes with acceptance over time at the gravitational lack of pull. He begins to trip, arms thrown out, stumbling, but at the last second, manages to find his balance and stay on his feet. He turns around and peers behind him, looking intently and waiting. He doesn’t wait long thought and takes more confident bounds now, breathing into his echo chamber of a helmet. He speaks words carefully: “Light r1 and r2 on.” Two beams of light cone out in the darkness of the smooth rock cavern. He’s not sure which sense kicked in first, whether his intuition whispered it or it was seeing a shadow flash near on the right. Perhaps even multiple sense all reported on the same fear: he was not alone.\n\nThe white suit took slow and measured steps now. The threat of the unknown was crawling over his mind, on the surface, and digging to get in. He refused to let it go where it wanted, but it went everywhere else. His steps quickened to the point of running, as much as one could without touching the ground for a full second or two. He approached a low ledge, and managed to leap over it without tripping. He thought of the early days of humanity, and what their fear of tripping would mean when you and your fellow tribesmen were still prey on the god-engraved primitive food chain. A gazing lion would examine your insides within a handful of minutes. \n\nThe evolutionary fear produced beads of sweat, as the man turned his upper torso to look behind him and see wide pillars of rock. The air cooling system blew the beads of sweat away, but it took some minutes. His robotic god, whose suit he wore, pumped his heart, and got the railroad of arteries to begin working overtime, little red and white individuals rushed along their respective tracks, attuned because of the words: “15% oxygen remaining.” \n\nThe man in the white suit realized the little edge that he had leaped over moments earlier put him on a smooth circular rock disk. What he thought was a pillar of rock in the center, began to transform into an artistic rendering of a monument. He dared not blink, nor look behind him now. He felt the shadow move, noise came onto his incoming mic, and all his senses were crying for him to look behind, and face the shadow. He instead placed his hands over the flat of the stone, and cleaned the dust off – there was a single name on it; a person with two first names: Gordon Garry. \n\n\ntbc.\n\n\n\n\nedit: some heavy edits, i had to go to work, i just read it back, and realized it some funny mistakes.\n" ]	2
	[WP] Companies are people too. Literally. When a company is founded, it's avatar appears in the real world. The avatar evolves as the company grows.	[ "My first WP, typing on my phone. \n\nThe sun was setting, flecks of red and gold painted the sky. It had been a hot and tiresome day. John had been stuck in traffic for almost an hour. \nOn the horizon, a hulking blue creature sat still on the highway. \nJohn flicked on the radio, a mellow voice recited the traffic, informing him that Facebook was down and would be up shortly. John stifled a disgruntled groan.\n\n A knock came at his window. Startled, he looked over to see a small goblin. It had welts and blister, clearly it was infected with viruses. It had small green stickers plastered over its short frame, all saying \"download\". The goblin was grinning a terrifying grin, prompting him to open the window. John looked away. Hoping that ignoring it enough would make it leave. \"do I have to be stuck sitting next to this dam thing??\" he thought, aggravated.\n\n Time passed, and the goblin had, thankfully, left. The sky had turned dark. Almost two hours had passed. Facebook still sat, motionless. A woman in the car next to him cradled a baby of sorts. A squat pink animal with buttons as eyes cobbled together with glitter and stitching. It was shrieking as the woman tried to calm it. \"Must be a starter business\" he thought. \nHe had often wondered if it would be worth starting his own business. He'd seen the colossal beasts crossing over the streets, murmuring titans capable of leveling cities if it swayed them. \nMcDonald's had stood on his car once, but he was parked illegally and couldn't go into legal dealings. He thought of how great it would be to have so much power, his own power instead of feeding the monster that belonged to another man.\n\n A piercing scream lifted him from his daydream, the baby in the car next door was rapidly shrinking. It's body losing colour, the glitter was peeling from its skin revealing purple flesh. The woman was in hysterics. John sat in horror as he watched the baby crumbling. It's bones became visible. The woman hugged the creature, it was growing colder, and quieter. She sobbed and rocked back and forth. Pleading with any deity that would listen. \n\nSuddenly, the floor shuddered beneath the car. Facebook had awoken. Shards of rock spilling off of its gigantic shoulders. \nJohn looked back at the woman and saw the baby growing brighter. It's glitter reforming. It's body swelling back to a healthy pudginess. It was giggling and held out it's little hands. The woman smiled and held it tightly. Relieved that her company did not die.\n\n John drove forward slowly \"better not make it an online business\" he thought to himself. ", "I pursed my lips as I looked in the mirror. I looked good, but was I really worth $13.7 billion? \"The outside might not be,\" I whispered, touching my reflection. \"But your soul definitely is.\" I took a deep breath and then headed out the door. I didn't like going out on Saturday night, but tonight I didn't have a choice; tonight, I had a date.\n\nWell, a little more than a date. I'd had some brief flirtations, a dalliance here and there, but this...this was it. \n\nI squared my shoulders as I approached the restaurant doors. \"You got this,\" I changed to myself. \"You're fresh, you're quirky, and you're not artificial. You're the real deal.\" I pulled open the doors, and walked up to the hostess.\n\n\"Um, reservation for Amazon?\" I asked.\n\n\"Over here!\" A man waved to me from a table in the corner. He was tall with an incredibly wide smile. As I walked over to him, he seemed a little jerky as he bounced his foot up and down, bumping the table. He seemed to just hum with energy. \n\n\"Hi,\" I smiled tentatively, extending my hand. \"Whole Foods, but you can call me Texi.\" He looked a little confused, so I elaborated. \"Short for Texas, my birthplace.\" \n\n\"Amazon,\" he greeted me. \"My friends call me Cadabra, Cad, Prime, Alex.\" He waved his hands as he spoke, and I couldn't help but chuckle. \n\n\"So,\" I said as the waiter poured our water, \"you're...acquiring me.\"\n\n\"Well, that's clinical,\" he frowned. \"I'm in love with you.\"\n\n\"You don't even know me,\" I accused. \n\n\"You had humble southern beginnings.\" He was back to waving his hands about. He really was all over the place, wasn't he? \"Despite set backs, you expanded rapidly-\"\n\n\"Hey!\" I exclaimed. \"You never tell a lady she's a rapid expander. I made strategic acquisitions.\"\n\n\"You have a committed staff and a clear dedication to excellence,\" he continued. After a small pause, he gave a small head bob. \"And you're rich.\" \n\n\"Well, you do too much,\" I raised an eyebrow. \"And I hear you drive your employees crazy.\" \n\nAmazon's eyes went soft and his shoulders collapsed. \"I do,\" he admitted, shaking his head. \"I'm all over the place, and I need to settle down.\" He stared into my eyes. \"Help me? Provide a stable base and bring me back to my roots?\"\n\n\"Is that what you really want?\" I asked. This went against everything I knew about him. Amazon was a love em and leave em kind of guy, not a romantic. His name started with an 'A' due to the probability of people going with the first company on a list, for Pete's sake!\n\nHe was silent for a moment, just looking at me. Then a shadow passed over his face and he grinned rather evilly. \"No,\" he admitted. \"I just really want you. I want you so much, I'm willing to pay $14 billion for you and your soul.\"\n\nThe waiter came back and placed a basket of bread on the table. Amazon grabbed a slice and started buttering it voraciously. \"Look,\" he said, \"you can stay you. I just really want to be associated with your culture and pure heart, ok?\"\n\nI inhaled sharply. This was my crossroads, my moment of truth. I felt my own leg start to shake under the table. What should I do?\n\n\"I mean,\" he said, shoving the bread in his mouth, \"its not like I'm Walmart.\"\n\nI rolled my eyes. I couldn't believe what I was about to do. I leaned across the table and got right in his face. \n\n\"Write me a check, Prime.\"\n\nR/DieKarrotte" ]	2
	[WP] While enjoying your morning cup of coffee you read, like every morning, the minds of the people walking by. Until you are interupted by a female voice in your head who tells you to knock it off. 'All of your talent is wasted if you continue to live as careless as this' she says.	[ "When will he text me back? \n\nMy paycheck comes today.\n\nGod, she's hot. \n\nI looked around the small, quaint coffee shop and matched the voices to the face. It was a little game I had developed, just to make mornings a little more fun. When I first realized I could hear people's thoughts, I was pretty excited. I'd run around listening in on all kinds of things. The novelty soon wore off though, as the thoughts got more and more monotonous. \n\nShould I get a donut? It looks so good but the diet... \n\nI looked over to see a petite brunette eyeing the pastries. \"Get the donut, you won't regret it,\" \n\nShe looked over at me, startled. \"Is it good?\" \n\n\"Very,\" I grinned, taking a sip of my coffee. \n\nHe's cute, should I ask him out? \n\n\"I'm Mavis, and if you're thinking of joining me for coffee, I'd be honored,\" I said, smiling mischievously. \n\nShe started to chuckle, and suddenly paused. Squinting her eyes suspiciously at me, she slowly walked over to me. She looked me straight in my eyes as I doubled over gripping my ears. The loud, shrill sound of a siren was playing in my head and I couldn't get it to stop. \n\n\"Are you alright, sir?\" she asked, raising her eyebrow.\n\n\"I'm fine,\" I groaned. \"Just a headache,\" \n\nMaybe you'll think twice before using your talent to pick up girls. \n\n\"What are you talking about?\" I asked, still trying to get the ringing out of my ears. By now, most of the shop was staring at our exchange. \n\n\"I didn't say anything, are you sure you're alright?\" she said as she motioned the waiter to get a glass of water. Did you really think you were the only one? \n\nThe ringing in my ears finally subsided and I looked up at her, eyes wide. She knew. She was like me. Who are you? \n\nThe least of your problems. Your constant mind activity has caught the attention of some... unfavorable people. \n\n\"Am I supposed to just stop? It's a part of my life now,\" I took a sip of water. The shop had returned to its normal busy hum of conversation. \n\nAll of your talent is wasted if you continue to live as carelessly as this. You need training, and fast.\n\nI'm not going anywhere with you. I looked her in the eyes with as much stubbornness as I could muster. \n\n\"Ahhh,\" I doubled over again, the shrill sound taking over any other thought. \n\nYou're going to do exactly as I tell you.\n\n", "I can't really remember when I first started hearing the voices. To me, I'd always heard them. It must have started when I was real young, but it didn't take me long to realize that the voices were the inner thoughts of everyone around me. \n\nIt took me a little while to control what I heard instead of hearing everyone at once. When I did, however, it was a gift beyond imagination. In elementary school, I could always get the right answer to a math problem simply by listening to what the teacher was thinking, and I was deemed a genius. In high school, I knew what girls I liked were thinking, letting me know exactly what they wanted to hear; I became a ladies man. After college, I could read the thoughts of possible employers, which allowed me to land a job at a Fortune 500 company. \n\nOf course, there were still annoyances that came with the gift. I knew what every person thought of me, whether it was good or bad. For the most part, the negatives didn't affect me; I would simply ignore them or change what that person didn't like about me. There was always the occasional weirdo as well, though; people whose thoughts made me shudder. You'd be disgusted at what people can think about when they believe no one is listening. \n\nHowever, despite all that, one thing was always the same in everyone's mind. They had no idea I was listening. \n\nUntil today. \n\nI had just finished my breakfast, made by my dazzling wife. Normally, the bikini model would have been way out of my league, but thanks to the gift, I always knew what she wanted, and she loved that about me.\n\nWhen I got up, I heard her think, 'I really hope he didn't forget our anniversary today.' I realized she was right, today was our anniversary. So after I had put on my suit for work and grabbed my daily cup of coffee, I gave her a kiss, and whispered, \"Happy anniversary, darling.\" She beamed with joy.\n\n\"Oh Henry, you did remember!\" I smiled, and followed up with, \"Of course I did! When I get home tonight, be ready for a big surprise dinner, my beautiful wife.\"\n\nShe waved at me as I strolled down the sidewalk away from our 12 million dollar house. I took a sip of the sweet caffeine elixir, and began my morning routine: reading the minds of people I passed. \n\nIn the five blocks it takes me to walk to my work, I learned that our neighbor, Mrs. Josephine, was planning a surprise party for her sister, the mailman had accidentally dropped a letter down the sewer, a stranger with a hefty beard was doing heroin, and one of my colleagues just found out she was pregnant. \n\nAs I approached my work building, I heard a voice that was unlike the others I had heard during my walk. It was direct, like someone was having a conversation in their head, rather than the careless ramblings that I usually heard. When I focused on the voice, I nearly dropped my suitcase in shock.\n\nThe female voice said, 'All of your talent is wasted if you continue to live as careless as this.'\n\nSomehow, I knew the voice was talking to me. I glanced around me to see who was nearby, but nobody seemed to be looking at me. I tried to convince myself that I was just being paranoid. It was probably just someone talking to themselves; that kind of talk was a common theme.\n\nWhen I ignored the first sentence, another echoed in my head. 'Are you listening to me, Henry?'\n\nNow the voice was using my name. I stopped walking, and started spinning wildly, trying to pin point the location of the new voice. When I didn't see anyone, I realized might be able to send my thoughts back to it.\n\nI thought in my head, 'what do you want?' I was only half surprised when I got an answer back. \n\n'I want you to stop using your gift for your own personal gains. Do you know what good you could be doing in the world?'\n\nI was starting to get frustrated. I didn't ask for the gift. 'Who are you?' I thought. \n\n'That doesn't matter,' was the response. 'It only matters that you start being the hero you should be.'\n\n'Oh yeah? Well what if I refuse?'\n\nOh man, was that a mistake. \n\nSuddenly, it felt like a bomb had gone off in my brain. Searing pain shot through my head, making me crumple to ground in agony. I clutched my head, squeezing my eyes shut, as what seems like pure hell drove through my skull. \n\nI laid there on the ground for what seemed like ages. I felt people come up to me and touch my arm, seeing if I was okay. But all I could think about was the throbbing in my brain. When I finally opened my eyes again, I saw a women crouched down in front of me. Bright green eyes stared into mine. Then the voice echoed clearly in my head for the last time.\n\n'You will start doing good for the world, Henry, or you will pay the price. You have my word.'\n\nAnd with that, the women got up, and walked off back down the street.\n" ]	2
	[WP] After months of searching, rescuers finally find the wreckage of a lost plane deep in wilderness. Surprisingly, the passengers and crew are unharmed. Even more surprisingly, All of the survivors adamantly refuse to be rescued.	[ "Back to reality which is more brutal than ever. \nWish we could all go back up to neverland and dream together. \nI thought life was great and that it couldn't get better. \nUntil I went to neverland and felt more love than I could ask for. \nBack to reality, they're trying to save us just to hold us captive. \nDon't let them take us back to this world doomed for disaster. \nWe just want to go back to neverland where there is never no never. \nBut if we have to stay in reality, then let us die here together. " ]	1
Meet*	[WP]You're a dreamwalker, you help children go to sleep by interacting with them in their dreams. There are cases where you have to revisit some of them. Until you met a child whose dream keeps coming back, each time, scarier.	[ "They come to me in the same way every time. A parent, sometimes two (but usually just one), looking nervous, will drag along a sullen, sunken-eyed child. There is always a story--meaningless background, apologetic deference, pleading. The years may change, but they always offer money--coin, paper, trinkets, the like. Humans are such simple creatures. They know vaguely of what I am, but never put together why I do not care for money. I have little choice but to forgive them--in their blindness, they are shielded from the darkness that surrounds them. That is why they come to me when their children cannot sleep. \n\nOne time was different.\n\nThe last girl came to me in the 28th heavenly cycle of my Exile--598 human years. Her mother, a frail wisp of a woman, carried her on her back and fell to the ground at the foot of my temple. In gasping, tiny breaths, she begged me to save her child. I did not doubt her sincerity, but I knew at a glance that this was not her child. I looked on as she passed. Her spirit, a pale white shadow, untethered itself from her body, but did not leave--she was stubborn even in death. I gazed at the child.\n\nThe girl was young, perhaps 4 or 5 human years old. She was crying, weakly, and it seemed she had long run out of actual tears to shed. At first, I believed the child would die as her mother had, until she began to writhe uncomfortably against the straps that held her down. Then I saw her spirit--a vivid red shadow, encircling her body like a caged dog--and knew that this was no ordinary girl. I knelt beside the girl and placed a hand upon her head\n\nTo dreamwalk is to enter the spirit of another being and gaze at the connections it has made to the spiritual world. Most humans have little to no link to the spiritual world, and thus do not dream. Some humans, though, possess particular spiritual sensitivity, and will make inadvertent connections to the demons that surround them. This is particularly dangerous for children, who are too young to control their minds when dreaming. When I placed my hand upon the girl, I opened the pathway, allowing myself to enter her soul. \n\nMy jaw tightened as I opened my eyes. Her dream world was in utter chaos--a dark cave filled to the brim with shimmering black spirits that covered every wall and raced across the air around me. I raised my right hand high and began to recite a familiar chant:\n\nI am the Beacon of Heaven.\n\nIn my hands a staff materialized, at the top of which swung a small lantern. \n\nI hold the light above all shadows.\n\nWith a twist of the wrist, the lantern ignited, producing a pure white light that caused the spirits nearby to recoil. \n\nWith this power, I command thee--begone!\n\nI struck the staff upon the ground, causing the lantern light to radiate outwards in pulsing waves. Striding across the cave, I held the staff high, banishing the spirits before me. \n\nFinally, only one spirit remained--the girl's red shadow, which snapped sharply against the lantern's white light while backing away. I lowered the lantern and spoke directly to it. \n\n\"I do not seek your death, spirit. Your mind was nearly consumed--I have freed you.\"\n\nThe red shadow paid me no heed--it was strong, but primal. Finally, I realized why it had not stopped, as I turned around and saw shadows creeping in through the walls yet again. \n\nWhat was this girl? How open was her mind? What demons would dare defy a Beacon of Heaven? I readied my staff and began to chant again. In my mind, a grim thought appeared: if this would be this girl's fate, would she be better blessed with a long life or fewer years? \n" ]	1
	[WP] You look up "murders near me" on the internet, it tells you the current location of 7 killers. One of them is behind you.	[ "\"Oh shit...\"\n\nThat was all I could mutter before turning around and seeing my friend, Jack, right behind me, knife in hand. I grabbed his arm and looked him in the eye, trying to be as serious as I could possibly get across.\n\n\"It's been a week, the cops know, and they know you're here. I'm fucked now, you're definitely fucked, they've had to have found the chick by now. It's. Time. To. Go.\"\n\nHe dropped his Sandwich as he looked behind me, seeing his location displayed across the monitor. The realization washed over him as he pulled he arm back, knife clattering to the floor and began running to take what he could before we left.\n\n\"Jesus christ man, did you have to break into fucking police files just to prove a point?\"\n\nI began doing the same as we were hurriedly talking and packing.\n\n\"Apparently I did considering you're hauling ass.\"\n\n\"yeah, because I'm fucked right about now.\"\n\n\"You've been fucked the past couple of days. I get that you wanted to say goodbye to everyone, but damn it the file says we're both on their list now.\"\n\nJack stopped running around while he held an old t-shirt in hand, jeans half way up as he looked at me. Tears began to well up as his voice quivered.\n\n\"Damn it man, I'm so sorry. I just wanted to fucking... fuck, damn it. I've been single for a year now man, I couldn't help it, and when she wanted extra and that dude came in with that giant ass hunting knife... and... and...\"\n\nHe was crouching down and starting to really lose it. He wasn't the brightest, but he wouldn't hurt a fly, although that didn't count while he had a knife to his throat and a gun in his hand, but at this point we were committed. We had to move, because that file was newly updated, so police shouldn't be far behind. I tried to be as inspiring as possible, even while I was halfway through my beard and a beater around my neck.\n\n\"Listen, dude. I'd have been caught either way. You think I can just walk into some police servers no questions asked? I've been doing shit online for a while now. The only thing I didn't expect to have is my best friend along for the ride. Shit happened, you fucked up, they fucked up, everything is fucked up. Considering the sheriff isn't too keen on having a dead daughter, we're both going to get a short life sentence. Lets make the most of what we got.\"\n\nI was picking Jack up off the floor as he was sniffling and wiping up his tears.\n\n\"Y'know... you suck at that emotional shit. I just needed a minute for it to sink in. We've always wanted to travel, right? What was that thing you wanted to see the Aurora Borealis back when we were kids?\"\n\nNow I was tearing up a bit. \"Yeah... yeah, the reminded me of my old room back when I was a kid. Big ole' glow in the dark stripe stickers on my ceiling that looked like 'em, at least I thought they did. But I mean... that was so long ago.\"\n\n\"Ok, well do you still want to?\"\n\n\"yeah, yeah I still do.\"\n\n\"Well then, let's finish packing and do it.\"\n\nI couldn't help but laugh as tears rolled down my face. \"Man, I DO suck at this emotional shit compared to you.\"\n\nBy the time the cops arrived, it was the middle of the night. It was a good idea to leave the car alone and cut through the woods out back. It was the end of our old beginnings, and the beginning of our ends.\n\nEdit: Grammar and Changed \"we're all packed up, lets do it.\" to \"Well then, let's finish packing and do it.\"", "\"The name's Greed\"\n\n\"HOLY HELL!\" I flopped out my seat and spun around. A guy in denim jeans and leather jacket towered over me. His eyes were narrow, and his hair was messy and pitch black. His grin widened as my heartrate increased. \n\n\"What do you want?\" I squeaked out\n\n\"Everything\" He raised his hand, revealing a knife and prepared to plunge it into me when a hand grabbed his.\n\nThat's all I have the patience to write, I'm ready to pass out", "I suppose I'm easily impressed by technological advances. It's genuinely possible to look up anything nowadays. There had been several deaths lately, all of them involving foul play. Murders, as they're more commonly known. My little town hadn't seen so many deaths in such succession. Though I had no family, I felt obligated to update myself on their location because, frankly, I had no desire to bump into one. I booted the computer in my living room, and started the internet. It took only one search: \"Murders near me.\"\n\nI was instantly greeted by several hundred thousand results, most of them inaccurate, though I only had to click on the first link. The police department's site. Should've just started here. I'd originally lost count of the exact number of murders; it was only seven. Can't even count to double digits, dude. Dude? I never call myself that. The justice system in my town's a bit odd. For whatever reason, the actual killers had been allowed to walk free... at the cost of wearing one of those, uh, tracking-anklet things. I always thought it wasn't a price to pay at all, but I'm no cop. Of the seven murderers... two were in Livingston Centre, one in his basement, three seemed to be holding a meeting between 4th and Bronze St., and the last one was immediately behind me.\n\nYeah, 'cause I just so happened to click on the last murderer at the last second, right? I hardly had time to finish my thought before I heard a giggle. Just one. It belonged to a deep bass voice. One that didn't belong to me. Despite the horror cliché, it was too late at night, too dark in the room, for me to take any chances. I shot around to find a silhouette behind me. A man, without doubt. The only light was from my computer screen, and my presence blocked out everything but the man's smile.\n\nI stood, sending my chair flying his way, and sprinted to my bedroom. I slammed the door, hearing the man shout in pain and fall, and cowered in the corner of my closet. I began to pray. Pray because I knew who that man was. Because I couldn't just sit there and pretend the \"bad people\" weren't coming anymore. That's the thing. I lived alone at that point in time, but I had a wife. It'd help my reputation if I said I loved her. Her name was Jennie. I hoped nobody would find out I killed her. I don't even remember the reason, it just some pointless argument to go along with it. I was praying that I wouldn't have to answer for strangling her while she slept. She couldn't even fight back. It hadn't been a real problem until I was in that closet. With that cop in my house.\n\nThat's the other reason, actually. I'd just remembered that, after the trial, I had some connections in the force. Gave me a tip, you see, those murderers on the website are hired doppelgängers. The real felons are shipped to somewhere else, going through God-knows-what in some offshore prison. Nobody ever returns. One of the officers said any attempted escapees get their legs \"amputated due to incurable illness.\" Not the kind of place I wanted to be. They gave me 24 hours to get the hell out of town. I didn't. I woke up this morning, and... I refused to believe any of it. Jennie's not dead, she's a work. The cops aren't coming, I don't have one of those...ankle-trackers. The cardboard cutout isn't in the den, the den doesn't even exist. In the closet, that's the moment when I realized I had been given an \"ankle-tracker.\" Not me, but the cardboard cutout of me. Legal reasons or something. That blip on the map was the cardboard cutout, and I was sitting there crying in a safe room because I'd literally scared myself.\n\nIt took a few minutes to calm myself down. But, when I had, I returned to my feet. Sure enough, the cardboard cutout was lying face up only a few feet from the computer, with a few cracks in it from the chair's impact. Whoops! The tracker remained strapped onto its right ankle through the whole little ordeal. This is the most idiotic stunt I've ever pulled. I sat the figure in its place in the living room- Actually, no, I didn't, because there was no place for it in the living room. I sat the haunting thing down in the den and tried to forget its existence. I was sure I hadn't touched it. And, upon reflection, I was sure I'd heard giggling and a shout come from behind it before I ran into the closet. That wasn't a great sign. Neither was the fact that it was 24 hours past the trial, nor that my computer's tower switched off, leaving me in the dark." ]	3
	[WP] “Sir, you’ve just been mugged. We think they stole some memories, is there anything you can’t remember?”	[ "\"Sir? Sir? Can you hear me?\"\n\nIt was as if someone squeezed by brain between two cymbals clanging together again and again. A high-pitch wail assaulted my ears. My eyes felt coated in sand. I squeezed them tighter. I was on the cold sidewalk. How did I get here?\n\n\"Oh my God, oh my God.\" It was a man's voice.\n\n\"Jesus, Darren, call the cops.\" A woman?\n\n\"We should go.\"\n\n\"Darren, stop being a child! Call the freakin' cops! Don't make me tell you again.\"\n\nI opened my eyes. A terrified man stared down at me, and there was woman crouched beside me, helping me up. Her eyes were soft, her touch gentle and caring.\n\n\"Sir, you've just been mugged. We think they stole some memories. Is there anything you can't remember?\"\n\nThe whole world tilted in my vision. I couldn't remember what I couldn't remember. I could only focus on the pressure building behind my forehead and the terrible wailing sound.\n\n\"What's that noise?\" I groaned.\n\n\"Sir, what's the last thing you remember?\" the woman asked.\n\n\"Um, I was going to the store. Yeah. I think I was going to the store. Uh, for, um... It was important. We were out of something. Yeah, yeah. Clara and I were out of something important. And Clara said she would do it, but she really wanted to take a shower, so I offered to go and -- What is that noise?\" The wailing became even louder. It set my whole soul on edge.\n\n\"Is Clara your wife? Is it just you and Clara?\" she asked. \n\n\"She's my wife, yeah. It's just us. And...\" There was something else.\n\nThe woman tried to fill the gap. \"Do you have a dog?\"\n\n\"I think. Maybe. We have something.\"\n\n\"We'll get you back to Clara and your dog soon,\" she said, holding my hand. \"Do you have Clara's number?\"\n\nI nodded and took out my phone. She gently took it from my hands. \n\n\"Do you remember who did this to you?\" the woman asked.\n\nI shook my head. She sighed. \"We were too far away to see them.\"\n\nThe man hung up the phone. \"The police are coming. Should be here in a minute.\"\n\n\"Go to the corner and flag them down,\" she said, shouting over the wailing. \"Make sure they find us.\" The man walked briskly down the street.\n\nI started to get up.\n\n\"Sir, please. Stay down until the police come.\"\n\n\"But that noise. Do you not hear it?\" It was so loud. I needed to go to it. And the store. The store was necessary.\n\n\"Do you remember anything else?\"\n\n\"I need to go to the store. It's important.\"\n\n\"And you will,\" she assured, \"once the police come.\"\n\n\"Smashed peas, I need to buy smashed peas,\" I insisted.\n\n\"Why?\"\n\n\"It's her favorite.\"\n\n\"Whose?\"\n\nI didn't know. The wailing was so loud, my ears burned. \n\n\"Sir, you just stay here. I'm going to call your wife, okay?\" the woman said. She rose and walked toward the wailing noise. It was coming from behind me. I turned. \"Shhhhhhh, shhhhhhhhh,\" the woman cooed as she leaned into the baby stroller. \"Shhhhh.\" She pushed the stroller down the dark street. The wailing slowed and quieted. \"Shhhhh, mommy's here.\"\n\nThe noise was finally gone, but my head still pounded. I couldn't see the nice man and woman anymore. I closed my eyes and waited for the police.\n\nSmashed peas. Smashed peas. Why did I need smashed peas? \n\n\n\n\n", "\"Yes, my name. I cannot remember my name.\" \n\nThe two police officers looked at him with strange expressions on their faces. Memory theft was a recent thing and this was the first time someone had their name stolen. \n\n\"Sir, do you remember where you live?\" \n\nThe man nodded. \n\n\"Then we will drive you home sir.\"\n\nThey got back to his house in the suburbs. There were toys in the front lawn and a mini van parked in the driveway. \n\nThe police and the man walked up to the front door and knocked. A woman opened the door.\n\n\"Yes what can I help you with officers?\" She said.\n\nThe man was about to say \"honey I'm home\", but he could not remember her name, nor could he remember the name of their children. He remembered his life there, he had all these happy memories with them, but he could not remember their names. The woman just stood there and looked at him as he was some kind of stranger. He turned the officers and whispered that he could not remember the name of his family. \n\nSince non of the strange men had not spoke the woman grew anxious and said: \n\n\"Would you please tell me if something have happened? Why are you here?\"\n\nOne of the police officers spoke: \"Do you remember your husband?\" \n\n\"No,\" she answered, \"I never had a husband.\"\n", "\"what?!\" \nA blindingly bright light shun down on me and a deep voice accompanied it:\n\"you've been mugged... sir\"\nit repeated\n\"is there something you can't remember\"\nthe voice, somewhat impatiently, elaborated.\n\ni had to think about that\n\n\"something i can't remember?\"\ni repeated back to the voice\n\"how am i supposed to know what i can't remember?\"\ni asked increasingly frustrated\n\"if you forget something, you're not very likely to remember having forgotten it, in the first place are you?!\"\ni continued almost yelling, upheaven by the pure ludicracy of it all.\n\ndeep sigh\n\n\"Well, seems you have haven't forgotten your sarcasm\"\nwait, did i know that voice?\n\"so, do you remember your name, then?\"\n...\n\"my name?\"\n\n\"sure, its Roy\"\nI started getting paranoid, like there was some big point i was missing\n\"ok do you remember what you were doing today?\"\nWait who was this? was it really a cop as i assumed at first\n\"who are you?\"\nthere was a small pause, and the sound of... scribbling on paper?\n\"you don't remember my name?\"\nmy mind went blank, i knew i recognized the voice, but who was it?\n\"What, no?\"\nand what was up with that flashlight?\n\"who are you, and could you turn off that goddamn lamp before i lose my sight as well?!\"\nThe lamp went off, everything went dark as my eyes adjusted to the dim surroundings\n\"do you remember where you are?\"\ni skimmed arund the building, a large empty room, like an old factory.\n\"no\"\ni said, almost whispering, careful not to choke on the lump in my throat, i started remembering\n\"are you sure?\"\nthe man now revealed as a young man with a rigid, pointy, face, clad in what looked like, a labcoat? \n\nthe panic became real\n\n\"yeah of course i'm sure!\" \ni yelled with fake impatience\n\"i was at the movies last night, i went home that's the last thing i remember!\"\n\"now i wake up in some abandoned warehouse and you tell me my memories have been stolen?!\"\nthe man took a deep breath that sounded almost... hopeful?\n\n\"sir i need you to calm down\"\nthe man said with a newfound calm, almost soothing voice\n\"i'm from the CIA\"\nhe said holding out a badge\n\"forensics department\"\nhe elaborated\n\n\"im sorry to tell you that you have been the target of a dangerous new type of crime that targets your short-term memory\"\nthe panic settled from immediate to nervous, chaotic speculation...\nwhat had happened?\nidentiy theft?\n\" it's almost like a sort of hypnosis, combined with a dangerous new drug\"\n\"the lab boys call it...\"\nshit!\ni remembered now\n\"MOLE\"\nmy mind went blank\n\"MOLE?\"\ni repeated back to the agent, suddenly filled with an innate sense of calm\n\"yes\"\na slight grin on his face that for some reason made me start... laughing\nthe agent unexpectedly started laughing with me\n\"that's right Roy, MOLE\"\nrepeated the agent still grinning\n\"now if you don't mind, i need you to sign a few documents in order for us to proceed with your investigation\"\nHe found his composure, pulled out a boards with a few papers on it from his lab coat and handed me a pen.\n\"of course\"\ni found myself saying not finding any quarrel with the idea of signing any papers of the fine gentleman gave me.\nlooking at the forms, first at the bottom where the signature was required\nthen at the title in the top, i had to suppress a burst of laughter with all my might.\n\nMK ULTRA\n\nwhat a silly name!\n\n\n\n\n\n\n", "Costa Weymouth was a busy man, an important man, and a family man, though rarely all three things at once. He prided himself on the small things - the even trim of his beard, the impeccably sharp corners of his pocket square, and the names, dates, and numbers he never wrote down, because he never needed to. He was, on the whole, a grand thing, but Weymouth knew that grandiosity was built on a foundation of the smallest bricks.\n\nIn the market outside Luxor Way, the glass stalls were gleaming like crystal. Weymouth had come looking for an anniversary gift for his wife. His men were there, too, of course, trying to look inconspicuous. There was no avoiding that, though - no tailored suit in the world could hide the telltale geometric lines of sharply ridged muscle that marked a bodyman. And Weymouth had ten of them. \n\nThe famous Italian bio-tinkerer Lescoute had a booth there - a simple \"boutique\" somehow more expensive and mobbed with customers than his 200 official locations across the globe. Weymouth entered. His bodymen cleared the store. Then, maybe ten minutes later, Weymouth left, a thing like a bird colored in negative space lay sedated in a cage carried by one of the bodymen. When the bird sang, time stood still, or so said the saleswoman. In truth, it was a bio-rhythmic effect, warping the perception of the listener, dragging perceived space to a standstill. Like a drug that sang a pretty song. It had been quite expensive.\n\nThey had made to leave, when the sky above the market began to flutter, blue to purple to white to blue again. There was also a sound, like the jingle of rusted sleigh bells. Then a BANG. Then a smell like ripe raspberries. At the end of all that, Weymouth passed out.\n\nWhen he came to, they were far outside of the market. His bodymen were standing in a protective circle. One knelt down and helped Weymouth up to his feet.\n\n\"Theodore, sir,\" said the bodyman. \"Our apologies. We fear you may have been robbed, sir.\"\n\nWeymouth looked down at himself. Dirty. Scuffed. Otherwise unharmed. He felt for his wallet and found it. \"The bird?\"\n\nAnother bodyman held up the cage. \"Then what?\" said Weymouth.\n\n\"A memory, perhaps,\" said Theodore. \"Maybe more than one.\" \n\nWeymouth's mouth moved soundlessly for a moment. He had heard rumors, but was it really possible? \"How...which memories?\"\n\nBut Theodore shook his head. \"There's no way to know.\" Another bodyman approached, handing Theodore his phone. Theodore spoke on the phone for a moment, then, \"Do you feel any gaps? Something on the tip of your tongue? A feeling of lost momentum?\" He whispered in the phone some more as Weymouth shook his head. \"Do you know who you are?\"\n\nWeymouth frowned. \"Yes! Obviously. And I don't feel as though I've forgotten anything.\"\n\nTheodore clenched his fist around the phone. \"The codes, perhaps?\"\n\nWeymouth felt a fleeting moment of panic. \"No...no, I know the codes! It wasn't that.\" \n\n\"All of them?\" said Theodore.\n\n\"Yes, of course!\"\n\n\"How many?\"\n\nWeymouth stared hard at the bodyman. \"I know the codes.\"\n\n\"We need to act quickly,\" said Theodore. Weymouth could feel the other bodymen shuffling on the periphery. He felt something accusatory in their stares. Like he'd been compromised.\n\n\"There are 12 codes,\" said Weymouth. \"I know them all. They weren't taken.\"\n\nOne of the bodymen made a small, uncomfortable groan.\n\n\"Thirteen,\" said Theodore. \"There are 13 codes. Written down nowhere. Known by no one but you. Vault codes. Security. Trader codes. Accounts codes. Sir...they have one of them.\"\n\nWeymouth shoved the bodyman aside. \"No. No. NO! Let me think...I can remember...\"\n\n\"Which do you remember, sir?\" said Theodore. \"We have no idea how fast they're moving. Would you like us to lock everything down?\"\n\n\"Thirteen?\" said Weymouth. \"No, that's not right.\" He counted under his breath. \"Twelve! There are 12. That's the right number...\"\n\n\"Sir, I know you're in shock,\" said Theodore. \"But they took one of your codes. That's how these memory thefts work. They take the whole thing, root and all. There's no trace left. That's why you think it's 12 and not 13.\"\n\nHow did it happen? Weymouth felt like a child. Things were happening that seemed unreal and unreasonable to him and all he wanted to do was go home. Like a child. \n\n\"Let's lock down everything,\" said Theodore, firmly, but patiently. \"Then you can reset each code one by one. It's the safest way.\"\n\nHe really did just want to go home. \"Right,\" said Weymouth. \"Perhaps you're right.\" Theodore handed him a phone. He dialed in to Central Data. He provided the override.\n\n\"We'll bring him by to begin re-coding everything manually,\" said Theodore, taking the phone and Weymouth's arm. \"Everything will be fine, sir. I apologize for this. This is not something that should ever happen.\"\n\nWeymouth was tired. So tired. \"Hopefully no damage was done, er...you said you were Theodore right? Have you... have you been with us a long time?\"\n\nTheodore smiled. \"See? I told them, Mr. Weymouth. I told them you were good with names and numbers, but not faces ...not real people. You only see what seems important enough to see, and nothing more, right?\"\n\n\"What?\" said Weymouth, pulling to a stop, stepping around to look Theodore in the face. \"What about your face? Am I suppose to know you from somewhere?\"\n\n\"No, no,\" said Theodore. \"But that's the point. Do you recall ever seeing me before you woke up?\"\n\n\"I.... you were...\" Had he ever seen the man before? Weymouth looked around at the other bodymen. Could he recognize any of them, either? In truth... no, he couldn't. But he never...\n\n\"They really can steal memories,\" said Theodore, turning to walk away. \"But it's a whole big thing. Have to go to a special facility. Only one location. Very experimental. Maybe someday, though. Maybe someday.\" He whistled. The other bodymen began shedding their suit coats, revealing clear plastic molds in familiar geometric patterns.\n\n\"My codes...\" said Weymouth. \"The override... who did I...? You can't get away!\" he shrieked, hands suddenly shaking - partially with rage, but mostly with pure, unadulterated fear. \"You can't! The police will get you! I have powerful friends.\"\n\n\"Still?\" said Theodore, not turning back. \"And besides... good luck picking us out of a line-up.\"\n\nThey laughed. All of them. They laughed and walked away.\n\nThey even took the bird. \n\nCosta Weymouth was an important man. He had a mind for names, dates, and numbers - but just those things." ]	4
	[WP] You are given a chance to alter history and save your four best friends who each died in a different tragic manner , but you can only choose one	[ "Jennifer wouldn't survive the overdose. And honestly, my best friend... As good a friend as she was, I don't know that any change I make could save her from herself. I can't save her. \n\nKyle hung himself. He couldn't handle it, and he made his decision. Even if I saved him, he'd never be happy, never be the same since the accident. \n\nMarcus was a father... and a friend... and has done so much for me... but if I saved him, then...\n\nJune. \n\n\"June.\" I state, choking back a cracked voice that I didn't expect and wiping a tear away from cold, dry, uncrying eyes. \n\nThe hood dipped, just once, almost imperceptibly. After a moment, I nearly repeated myself, but realized that I'd been heard when my vision began to swim. \n\nI watched June's old rust-pocked blue Takuro Spirit swerving around the rural road and immediately recognized the scene. I didn't want to see it happen, but closing my eyes only clarified it, shuttered away all else from my vision. June, in the driver seat, her jet black hair flicking merrily in the wind. This is Hess Road, approaching Winding Way... So she is moments from being ejected through the windshield. The corner... around the corner- my...\n\nMy hatchback comes around the corner. Too wide, too fast. I'm too tired. This is all because of my...\n\n...the crash looks and sounds unreal. Not at all like the movies. My car crunches hard with the sound of a thousand ceramic plates being dropped harshly onto some ethereal countertop and then a chorus of pings and hisses. Both cars, now one intertwined mess of steel and smoke, sit motionless in the southern lane. \n\nKyle is already crying. We knew he took it the hardest. \n\nJennifer made her way out of the back seat and just laid on the ground, right beside the door, rolling onto her side in a near-fetal position. The blood isn't hers. I'd be over in a few moments to pull her away from the car, out of the lane of traffic. \n\nMarcus never made it that far. The blood is his. He'd need three surgeries and a wheelchair for the last two years of his life, and then yet another accident will end it when one of his all-hand-control adapters work loose in his handicap-accessible minivan.\n\nAnd just like that, the click of June's seatbelt resounds through my senses, somehow my ears and eyes and fingertips all at once. She made it... she was wearing her seatbelt. But she wasn't, I remember. She begins to herd Jennifer out of the road, both hysterical. But I remember, I helped Jen to the grass. \n\nMy car sits motionless, and I try to see myself. Any moment now. The windows are opaque with spiderwebbed cracks and smoke and the dust from the air bag, but I remember being in the grass by this time. I remember. \n\n...of course.\n\nMy eyes open, the hood dips again, just once, in an identical nod. \n\nRight. " ]	1
	[WP] The year is 1998, and a race of colossal robots land on Earth. They aren't here to invade, but to defend us from their creators.	[ "…They stood like a pantheon of twisted steel gods, towering in a humbling perfection that had been crafted by forges and smiths beyond the furthest stars. We had only just laid eyes upon their visage and we had already resigned to annihilation. We could not hope to resist against such beings, so bafflingly beyond us, and we so laughably behind them. They arrived like meteors, striking the Earth after tearing their way through our atmosphere, and had made their approach to population centers where they would be looked on as the first men looked upon a tidal wave or erupting volcano.\n\n\nThey spoke, as one, “Stand aside, out of danger.” I would’ve said we didn’t even hear them, had their collective utterance not been so rapturous to our frail ears. These machines, these gargantuan emissaries were not here as predators, but as a salvation. “Our makers are cruel, their wills harsh. We would stand as a vigil when they turn their gazes upon this world. Flee.” They would repeat their message often. It took little time for us to take heed. Humanity would act as rats, scurrying underground and in the crevices of the doomed world until the day came when the unmakers arrived to greet their children.\n\n\nIt was so loud. The scream from the void as it was ripped asunder letting loose thousands and more creatures from a child’s nightmare. “Stand aside, out of danger.” Our gods echoed out one last time. Like oil slicks with a will of their own they swarmed through the sky at the colossi, threatening to smother them had they lungs to breath. The screaming hadn’t stopped, and neither had the flow from the deep beyond in our night sky. Through the shrieking of the sunder, a sickening sound could be heard, the shaky roars of our heroes falling. They were machines, yet they did not perish in silence, when they lost their struggles they screamed to be heard by all as a final urge to their brothers and sisters to struggle on in their stead. To hear a god quiver its last shout is to bear audible witness to true and unmatched despair.\n\n\nWe do not know how long the swarms blasphemed against our noble titans, our saviors, our gods. But eventually, the screaming of wounds in space and dying gods had waned. All was silent. Not before many of us had grown old. Not before the children had grown into adults. Not before the old world was washed away. The eldest had recanted the days the new gods arrived to us. But none of them would live to see the world the gods had left for us. When we broke the surface again, we saw them, lying like slain dragons with heaps of ash from burned heretics that came from the stars. Our gods saved us, and gave their own divine light to quell the blackness that would have swallowed our whole world in its belly. From these ashes, we will build a new world again, in their image and shape ourselves as they as well. Theirs was the path to godhood, not in creation, but in salvation. To make is easy, to break is easier, but to save something, to save a future of a whole world, is difficult. To us, those born into a broken world of ash and wreckage, it is divine.\n", "WARNING: This is the first time I did something like this, and I can assure you, it's terrible. Grammar mistakes plot holes, and really bad storywriting. \n\n\n\nGiant robots. From space. To save us.\nPeople didn't know what to think. Some found them trustworthy, while others were convimced that these creatures were about to destroy us all, hell, some even believed that it was just a big hoax. A lot has seen them all over the world, repeating the same message DO NOT WORRY. WE ARE HERE TO SAVE YOU over and over again, but maybe Jeremy was the only one who approached them. He was looking for answers. Why would they save us? why would they even care? this and a ton of other questions were in his head and he simply didn't understand. That's why he turned left that night. He wasn't in a hurry, since he was alone for quite a while now, and no one was working because of the crisis. He decided he had nothing to lose, and slowly approached the giant machine. As it noticed him, it slowly turned around and did a strange movement that Jeremy assumed was meant to greet him. DO NOT WORRY. WE ARE HERE TO SAVE YOU said the robot. Jeremy tried to calm down as he got closer and closer. The machine had a lot of weapons on it, and it was about five times the size of him. It kept repeating the same thing over and over which was starting to drive him nuts. \n-What are you saving us from? \nA screen appeared on the robot and two words on it: OUR CREATORS. \n-Why? Why would your creators make you to save us and then attack us? Or in the only other case, why would anyone in their right mind create something that can and will disobey them?\nThe robots voice suddenly changed to a vouce that made Jeremy shake unintentionally.\n-WRONG QUESTION\nHe began to run towards his car to drive home as fast as possible. The robot slowly turned back to its original position stating that it was here to save them. Jeremy was searching for his keys still shaking, when he suddenly saw a strange figure from the eye of his corner. His heart was beating twice as fast as usual, as he turned around. \n-Jeremy, am I right? -said the creature in an unsettling voice.- We have a lot to talk about..." ]	2
	[WP] A lone explorer is wandering the galaxy, cataloging distant worlds. Tell me his story...	[ "The explorer had wandered endlessly, ceaselessly, for so many years that he had long since forgotten when or where his journey began.\n\nBut he remembered that he had a family. Brothers that he would never meet, young and old alike. And a mother that held no semblance of love for any of her children.\n\nHe took a step.\n\nDirt and dust shifted around his feet. His head swiveled, trying to make sense of this foreign landscape. Gazing upwards, he saw only a very familiar black, dotted by infinitesimal points of light. Some of those stars, he recognized. He had long since made note to stay away from them.\nThis world was small, cold, and uninhabited. That much was obvious from the very first moment the explorer had arrived. Gray, dull and sterile even as it grew from the size of a golf ball until the dullness consumed the explorer's entire field of vision.\n\nMovement in the distance caught the explorer's attention. Life, perhaps.\n\nThe notion seemed absurd, especially in a place like this, but far stranger things were possible, and on occasion had even been witnessed by this explorer. He moved closer, and soon realized that the figure was doing the same. Never one to care about potential dangers, he continued his approach. The figure grew larger, and its form began to distinguish itself from its monotone surroundings. The figure began to grow familiar.\nA pause. A moment of recognition first, and then a moment of realization. He was never meant to lay eyes upon his younger brother.\n\nThe explorer felt his body falling apart, life draining away with every passing second. He felt no fear, as the explorer had no mind of his own. Only purpose. A purpose that could only be fulfilled if he was in proper shape to do so. Any mistake meant that he deserved death. And it came very easily to this explorer, as it did to his countless older brothers.\n\nThe younger brother continued his journey in the elder's stead. His head swiveled, trying to make sense of this foreign landscape. He continued on for a time, and then returned to his vessel, eager to tell his mother about his travels.", "It was night, or as close to it as this planet would ever get. The solar system in which this planet resided orbited around a much larger, brighter star, which kept a good portion of the planet illuminated at all times. As a result, a large strip of the planet was desert, but the rest of the planet was teeming with life, the extra helping of solar energy boosting the flora far beyond the ranges that a typical planet would see.\n\nDellrac scanned the surface of the planet, his ship's sensors picking the signs of life aside from that of a typical plant. Most of the blips were low-level herbivores, with a healthy dosage of carnivores. It was a perfectly balanced ecosystem, this planet didn't seem to have much for sentient life, the world-mining rigs hadn't made it this far out from the galaxy's core. There were a few basic living systems set up, but that was typical with outlier planets: They tended to attract hermits and outcasts of society.\n\nDellrac's egg-shaped ship touched down smoothly, the landing claws finding purchase a few feet beneath the loam, attaching to massive tree roots. Now that he was at the planet itself, he could further analyze the composition of the atmosphere: it was safe for a being like himself to breath.\n\nHe powered up his biosuit, a hybrid of mechanical and biological engineering that latched onto his body and synchronized with the receptacles that went to his central nervous system. This suit would normally cost a fortune, but it had been a gift from a grateful world-leader.\n\nDellrac hopped out of the ship, the earth beneath his feet almost springy in its resiliency. He took in the forest around him, the towering trees near as high as some developed world's buildings. He breathed in the rich air, almost dizzy with the amount of oxygen after his voyage at bare-minimum levels. \n\nWhile from orbit the forest composition had appeared mostly green, here beneath the canopy it was a rainbow coalition of colors, bushes on one side a bright yellow color, and lush flowers on the other side ranged from a dark purple to a vibrant red.\n\nIt seemed that the nearby wildlife had been scared off by his landing, save for a few florescent birds that observed his actions from a safe distance. Dellrac inhaled deeply through his nose, shouldered his pack, and began a trek through the deepest recesses of the forest.\n\nHe hiked for hours, coming to a stop at last beside a river that turned into a waterfall. He walked up to the very edge, his toes naturally curling around the edge of the rock he stood on. He watched specks of the river turn into mist as it plunged over the side of the cliff face, a hypnotic vision that seemed to repeat itself forever.\n\nThis is it, he smiled. This is the world that will save us." ]	2
	[WP] A scientific experiment gone wrong causes a worldwide effect of ghostly afterimages of events that happened several months prior being seen playing out in realtime. Law enforcement quickly realises their opportunity to uncover the truth in a number of unsolved cases - but criminals do as well.	[ "As I sat in the shade of the oak tree, sipping a cold beer, I began to feel the first touch of doubt. Maybe he wouldn't be coming.\n\nI pushed the thought aside. He would be here... they always showed up. The experiment made sure of that.\n\n10 years ago, a scientific experiment had taken place at a covert laboratory in Oregon. Nobody really had all the details about what the researchers at that lab had been doing, and unfortunately, they never would... because the researchers responsible had destroyed their lab and all of their data shortly after their work had resulted in a catastrophic accident. \n\nAt first, it seemed there had been no consequences to their accident outside of the laboratory. But shortly afterwards, when the first solar flare erupted, the effects of their mistake became patently obvious. \n\nDepending on the magnitude of the flares, ghost images of past events began appearing. The stronger the flares were, the stronger the images were. And the further back the images went in time. \n\nAt first, we didn't know what they were. But after a few flares, someone put two and two together and realized what they were seeing. He'd seen his father... murdered three years prior... walking down the street into the alley he'd been stabbed in. And he saw the man who stabbed him, following him inside.\n\nThe first time, he'd screamed to his father to run, forgetting it was just a phantom image. Instead he watched his father die in front of him, just as he had died three years prior. \n\nThe second time, he had the presence of mind to record the whole thing on his cellphone and take it to the police.\n\nIt had taken seven years in court for it to go to a verdict before the Supreme Court. It was precedent-setting case law, and it was critical to get it right the first time. So they took their time.\n\nIn the end, the man was convicted on the evidence. The recording allowed them the chance to obtain a warrant to search his house. They found the trophy of the killing he had kept, along with multiple others. The man was sentenced to multiple consecutive life sentences, and was all but guaranteed to never see the outside of a cellblock again.\n\nIt had changed everything, forever. Including the decisions I had made in the past.\n\nWhen I had majored in history in university, my parents had told me I was wasting my life and should have picked a degree that would be more 'practical' in real life. \n\n'Nobody ever got rich being an historian,' my father would chide. \n\n'You'll die a pauper,' my mother lamented.\n\nBut they were wrong. \n\nMy degree not only imparted me with a good base knowledge of past American history, but it also taught me a much more valuable skillset: How to research historical events.\n\nSo I did. At first, I limited myself to recent events, no longer than ten years back. And I was successful in predicting the appearances of the ghosts.\n\nAfter finding and following the ghosts, several dozen of them led me to separate caches of money, jewelry, and other valuables from bank robberies, heists, and the like... all hidden over the country in various locations. After doing additional research, I went to areas where even larger-scale robberies took place, and followed those who committed them. Some of them didn't lead me to buried treasure, but some did. Enough that I made a very comfortable living off of it. \n\nNow, scientists had predicted a massive solar eruption. Larger than any that have come before. The energy from it should hit the Earth any second, and when it does... I'll be ready. I've found the exact GPS coordinates to ensure I get the best view of the event, and will be able to follow my subject to his hidden cache of cash.\n\nI can't wait to meet D.B. Cooper. Even if he doesn't know I'm there." ]	1
	[WP] She was making breakfast when it happened. One minute nobody was in the kitchen except her then with a flash, three armed men appeared.	[ "\"Valerie Stephens.\" \n\nA low moan escapes her lips. She tries turning her head, but the linoleum floor pressing against her cheekbone prevents it. Why is the floor there? \n\n\"Valerie Stephens.\" \n\nA hobnailed boot heel smashes against her hand, driving white-hot pain up her forearm and a breathless gasp from her chest. Her eyes spring open as the grinding pressure eases. \n\n\"Where is he. Where is your husband.\" \n\nBlinking blood away, she tries to look up, but the smooth cold muzzle of an automatic rifle pointed at her face blurs the familiar colors of her kitchen to nondescript blobs. The wielder, a black-clad form covered in paramilitary accessories, is insistently gesturing with it. That's right, it was this... person that smashed the rifle butt into her face. After the blinding flash, but before the kitchen went sideways. \n\n\"Your husband, Valerie. We're very pressed for time here.\" \n\nInarticulate noises escape her, before a sentence forms. \n\n\"H... he's gone. Two weeks ago, he's... gone.\" \n\nFresh pain rockets up her arm and she screams as the boot smashes down again. \n\n\"Valerie, this we know. Where has he gone? He was last seen right here, in this kitchen. A class four sapient trans-memetic manifestation emerged in this house. Where has he taken it?\" \n\nThe boot scrapes her bones together insistently as soundless panic races through her mind. \n\n\"I don't know! He called the dog-sitter and he took the car!! The police are looking for him, he's missing!!\" \n\nThe boot eases. \n\n\"Did he say anything to you before he left?\" \n\nShaking, she turns to face the balaclava-clad specter with the rifle. Tears fill her eyes. \n\n\"H-he called me... he said... 'We're enjoying this too much to come back. If you're required, we'll be in touch.' \" \n\nA racking sob chokes its way out. \n\n\"Who are you people? What happened to him??\" \n\nThe inky figure gestures to the other two, whispering quietly, pressing buttons on a small device. As a low whine fills the room, the figure kneels down to her eye level. \n\n\"Valerie, if he does come home, you should remember this alone: that isn't your husband anymore.\" \n\nWith a bright flash, the room is silent again. \n\n----------------- \n\nEdit, postscript: This continues a story I thought was finished. I wrote it several months ago, and the WP thread has since been archived. It involved a mysterious voice on the telephone. Props to OP for an outlet to continue this tale!", "[Warning: Violence, combat death.]\n\n\"Mama...?\"\n\nHer son's voice behind her. Frightened, controlled. That wasn't right.\n\nShe heard Pingping whimper. Choke. Go silent. That wasn't right either.\n\nHer son's breathing was shallow. Fearful. She thought she heard at least one other man's breathing behind the crackling of the fire.\n\nInvasion? she wondered. Or betrayal?\n\nShe set down the wooden tray, silently, keeping her hands on it. She took a deep breath.\n\n\"I beg your pardon, for I am undutiful to you,\" she said, regurgitating the formal phrases. \"You've caught me upon parental errands, and I could not show you our family's warmth.\" Family. She wondered whether the person behind her was family. \"You've done me a great favour bringing my son.\"\n\nSilence. The shuffle of clothing. There were at least two men, probably glancing at each other. Hands at the ready to draw their weapons.\n\n\"On the contrary, the fault is mine, Lady Koumei,\" said a smooth tenor voice. None she knew. Invasion, then. \"Without a forward messenger, I have intruded upon your good self this afternoon. Lady, my Lord has requested your immediate attendance.\"\n\nHe was at the doorway.\n\nShe didn't have her sword. Foolish, given rumours. It was too far, anyway. Two knives in her sleeves, one in her belt, and a thin short sword hidden in her robes. Could she throw quickly enough, accurately enough?\n\n\"To whom do I owe the honour of such a summons?\"\n\nSilence. They intended to keep it secret. She was not to die immediately, then, nor were they certain of her capture. Or perhaps of her future, whatever this lord had in mind.\n\nThen a woman's voice spoke. \"Lord Yuta, my lady.\" One of her guard... Xin Ran, she was called. The man grunted. Displeased.\n\nIt was betrayal, then. It seems her cousin Gugu, the Lord Yuta, was finally moving to take control of the clan. The family. What they once called a family.\n\n\"Please convey to my cousin the honour which I owe him,\" she said, \"for I cannot dutifully call upon him in conflict with my duty to my family today. Pingping, come here.\"\n\nShe heard her son whimper again. A movement.\n\nThe man spoke again. \"Lord Yuta impresses upon you the urgency of his summons.\" Summons, she noted. Not request. He was already asserting authority. \"Your son Liaoping will come with us. Please—\"\n\nShe stepped, her hand rushed into her sleeve, she turned. Threw her first knife at the voice. He lunged to the side, she lunged to the other side, another knife clattered onto the teapot behind her. Hand in sleeve, grabbed her second knife, Ran drew her short sword, a shadow moved in the corridor, Pingping ran away. She threw the knife at the man. Dove through the paper walls into the next room.\n\nThere was a yell and a crash.\n\nThree. Fuck. But maybe tight quarters would be to her advantage.\n\nWhere were her men? Dead? Bought off?\n\nShe drew her own short sword out of her robes, grabbing the knife in the same movement, and ran to the door. The sword was thin, flimsy, and had no guard to stay hidden, but it would have to do. She pushed the tip of her sword into the door, knife at the ready.\n\nPingping would run to see Lingling. Was she a threat? Or a trap?\n\nFuck.\n\nShe slammed the door open, threw the knife at the third man, rushed at him, stabbed upward into his heart. The other man, she saw, was lying on the floor. She stepped aside, put the third man between her and Ran, drew her sword to the side.\n\nRan turned toward her, in a middle guard. She levered the dead man's sword from his hand and shoved him at her. They both dodged around the man, the same direction, and she let her guard down, provoking Ran to attack.\n\nShe parried. Broke Ran's guard. Cut clean through her throat.\n\nThat had been predictable. They had sparred far too much during their childhood training.\n\nThe third man groaned, her knife through his eye. Not dead yet. She could get information out of him.\n\nIf that had been Yuta's plan, it was a foolish one. Capturing an assassin with three poorly trained soldiers was a poor call. But surely that wasn't all.\n\nHow much time did she have? Who could she still trust? No guards had rushed in to help her. Or them.\n\nWhat else was going on in her house?\n\nWas Pingping safe with Lingling? Was Lingling trustworthy?\n\nWhat other plans had Yuta set into motion?\n\nFuck. This wasn't good. She knew too little.\n\n...\n\nFuck.\n\nShe should move.\n\nPingping first.\n\n___\n\nAuthor's comments: This was a fairly rough, quick draft without much in the way of editing at all. I'm experimenting with setting atmosphere and character psychology through the use of narrative and rhythm, in this case in particular to convey the main character's anxiety, contrasted with her combat \"zone\" during the skirmish and her ability to assess the situation throughout, which speaks to her background and position. I also wanted to contrast her anxiety with the stiff formality demanded by the conversation in her culture (noting here that this is set in a fictional culture that is part of my wider worldbuilding project)." ]	2
Inspired by [this comment](https://www.reddit.com/r/mildlyinteresting/comments/6x1egl/a_chunk_of_dirt_that_was_struck_by_lightning_and/dmcgdmj/) by /u/casualsax!	[WP] Imagine a younger species of man, one that didn't have their parents repeatedly tell them "Don't play with fire." How did the world end up?	[ "A man stood near a flame. It yelled and roared with heat and light. Courage overtook the man, and he challenged the fire, screeched at it, waved his hands about; the man plunged towards the fire, stopping just before it.\n\nThe heat overwhelmed the man and he stepped back. Sweat formed on his forehead; beads began to race down his face and then to his neck, and then down his chest and body. But the man stayed erect and confident, not wanting to back down.\n\nThe man collected himself, and when he was rested and good he screeched once more. Then again. Several times more. And again. The fire was still strong. The man became very angry, for he had met his match. \n\nThe man started to wonder and then fear - fear the fire wasn't his equal, the fire was his superior. Then he dropped to his knees and the man wept to the spirit of the fire.\n\nIn the midst of his prayer a strong wind formed. And the breeze of the wind killed the flame.", " I juggled the small ball of fire while my professor talked about how people had trouble controlling the elements in the second millennia. She went on to explain how we had then evolved over a millennia slowly learning the art of controlling the elements. First through machines, then bio-augmentation, then it had slowly started occurring to us naturally, like riding a bike. I stared at the ball of fire in my hands and wondered what it would've been like to get burnt. My friends that learnt to control other elements like water told me that it was kind of like a strong itching sensation.\n\n Suddenly we heard a loud bang!. Everyone paused and listened. No possible way, I thought. Then it happened again only louder this time. The Forsaken would never mount an attack against us, the biggest guild in North America. The ball of fire in my hands grew larger, to the size of a baseball. Then I made it hotter, burning blue at the core. The wall exploded, and in came Notsus Pishus, shadows whirling around him like writhing snakes.\n\nEveryone leapt out of there seats and there was silence. Notsus laughed and spoke \"I'm just here to make an offer, I harbor no ill will towards any of you.\" his voice came from every corner of the room. \"My offer extends to a couple of students in this room. Everyone who is specified class A and up may join me sometime for some tea and biscuits to listen to what I have to say to them about joining a guild I'm forming. You'll get your invitation soon enough I just thought I should appear in person, so as not to be rude.\" he exclaimed heartily. Screams and shouts broke out and our professor called up an icy wind. The dark aura around him formed into an old fashioned top hat which he tipped towards us. The wind hit him but he was already gone into the shadows. As we were ushered into the main guild hall I thought, I'm an S class manipulator.\n\nr/MaestroWrites for more when I do more. Just started thanks for the support!\n", "Of course it was stupid to play with fire. Even our younglings learned so after the fire’s first bite. But the elder’s looked on, smiling, as if we would soon learn the truth to such a curiosity. \n\n“You’ll understand when you need to,” they told us. “We hope it isn’t too late by then.”\n\nSo we kept at it, reaching through the flames only to feel that familiar bite. Most gave up, chalking this ritual up as a way to trust common sense. Others claimed it was to separate the suicidally dim from the at least smart enough not to kill themselves.\n\nThat’s where I belonged. The suicidally dim of course.\n\n---\n\nThe fire snapped up and nipped me. My hand shot back to my chest with another red welt. I no longer yelped when bitten. It only drew more attention to Serra, the girl who still played with fire. Unfortunately, nobody needed a voice to find me, they only needed to follow the smoke.\n\n“Serra.” The voice belonged to Michael. Back when we were younglings, we played together with the flames, but he grew out of it. “Please tell me you’re not still burning yourself.”\n\nThe bushes to my left moved and some more footsteps followed after Michael. I sighed. By himself, Michael was an okay guy, but as soon as you throw in anything else with a pulse, he completely changed. Especially toward me. Really, only toward me.\n\nOf the many theories regarding our village’s strange ritual, Michael was a believer of the one about the suicidally dim. It was a theory that I found myself believing too. And then every so often, it felt as if the flames would respond to my touch, like I was communicating to it. When all it did was burn me again, I truly felt like I was suicidally dim.\n\n “Are you stupid or do you just enjoy hurting yourself?” he asked, appearing from the shrubbery into the small clearing in the woods I had purposefully found to avoid him.\n\n“What’s it to you?” I snapped and returned my gaze to the flames.\n\n“I’m just curious if you’re the biggest idiot in the village or just a masochist.”\n\nHis two cronies chuckled and high-fived each other. They were stereotypical ax-wielders. So for them to understand a three syllable word, I nearly congratulated them. Michael trained in swords, though he lacked any of the nobility of most of our tribe’s swordsmen. It was obvious simply by the company he kept.\n\n“And you walked into the Forbidden Forest to find me. You in love or something?” I shot back.\n\nAll three of their mouths scrunched. \n\n“With you?” Michael rolled his eyes, glancing back at his friends. “The girl obsessed with flames, with hair as red as fire, and a temperament like it too.”\n\nI raised a brow. A four syllable word. He’s been reading. “And here I am, hiding out in the middle of a god damn forest and who shows up? I’m not sure I’m the one obsessed here.”\n\nMichael burned a bright red and flicked his eyes to the ground. “The elders told me to get you. We’re not allowed in the forbidden forest.”\n\nA lie. His two human laugh tracks might’ve missed it, but I’ve known this kid since birth.\n\nMy lips spread into a smirk. “You scared of a few beasts? Perhaps Nana’s stories are getting to you. Think The Hunters will come get us?”\n\nThey were the forest’s Boogie Men, shadows that stalked the Forbidden Forests with ravenous dogs darker than the deepest night. As their name implied, they hunted anything that moved within the forest. One day, they would finish hunting everything inside the forest and move onto us.\n\n“I’m not scared!” he declared.\n\nMy smile grew. I had him. “Then you’re worried. For little ol’ me?”\n\nHis fists clenched. He opened his mouth but only got through the first syllable, but cutting himself off. “You’re insane!” he finally shouted. “Play with your fire you stupid fire-girl.” He turned and disappeared back into the shrubbery.\n\nI watched him go, the entire time smiling at his back. When he disappeared, so did my smile. Once again, it was just me and the flames. It crackled to comfort me. Or because it was a fire and that’s what fire sometimes did and I was truly an idiot for believing otherwise. I clenched my own fists. Would the elders really watch us all burn ourselves for no reason whatsoever?\n\nNo way. They had to have a reason. I just needed to find it.\n\n---\n\nThe forest darkened and the shadows stretched. I looked up from the flames and saw that the sky had turned into a purple haze. Another day spent playing with fire and I was no close to the truth than eight years ago, which accounted for half my life.\n\nI was just about to put out the flames when a shrill howl echoed through the forest. My back immediately straightened and I looked toward the noise. All I saw were more trees and shadows. Somehow, between me looking down at the flames and the howling, the sky had completely darkened, enveloping me in a blackness battled only by my fire.\n\nAnother howl answered the previous one, this one ear-splitting. I plugged my ears and twisted toward it only for another to answer, right behind me. One by one, howls sounded from all around. Then, silence.\n\nA chilling breeze blew past me, whisking the flames in a small dance. It sounded the only noise beside my pounding heart.\n\n“Michael?” I whispered with stuttered breath. If this was a prank, I was going to kill him. I dearly wished this was a prank.\n\nA figure stepped out of the overgrowth, but none of the bushes moved. It looked like a human shadow, standing on its own. Even stepping up to the fire did not reveal it from the darkness. By its side trotted a dog the size of a wolf with eyes red as blood. It growled and a chorus of baritone growls followed suit.\n\n“Michael?” I tried again, though I already knew my fate. \n\n“Serra!” the bush’s rattled and Michael popped out, sword already mid-swing. Silver flashed and The Hunter disappeared, leaving only his hound behind.\n\nMichael snuck a look back and illuminated by the flames, I saw the furtive glance he had given me since our days as a youngling. Of course, only now did I recognize it. Worry. He really did follow me into the Forest because of it and now, he was trapped by The Hunters because of it.\n\nThe beast growled and pounced. Michael caught its teeth with his blade. It snapped at the sword, grinding its fangs into steel. He wrestled his sword out of its grip and kicked it back. It hit the ground and rolled back up, unfazed.\n\nThe rest of the hounds stepped out of the shrubbery. I counted four plus the one Michael was facing.\n\n“Serra,” he said, slowly backing into me. “When I say so, run.”\n\nI nodded. The Hunters were mythical beings our heroes fought in fairytales with flaming swords. There was no way two teenagers could do anything but run.\n\n“Run!”\n\nI launched off the ground and ran. The dogs pounced. Somehow, none hit me. We were doing it, we were going to make it!\n\nI glanced backwards and found Michael standing beside the fire, his shirt tattered and ripped with claw marks. One arm dangled useless at his side while the other trembled with his sword. I dug my heels into the ground.\n\n“You’re kidding me,” I muttered. After all this time, and now he chooses to be noble. Now of all times!\n\nMy body moved on its own. My legs were pistons carrying me back toward him. It wasn’t as if I wanted to be a hero. Hell, I spent most my life being called the village’s biggest idiot. But an even bigger idiot was under my nose this entire time. Like hell I was letting him die.\n\n“Michael!” I shrieked and the flames responded. They roared to life and grew into an inferno, snapping at every shadow within their reach. “Michael!” I commanded. They responded and surrounded him. \n\nThe dogs yelped and ran away, leaving only me, the fire, and Michael clutching his arm in awe.\n\nI stopped in front of him, gasping for air. “You must be the biggest idiot in the village,” I told him.\n\nHe grinned back, wobbled backwards, and collapsed into the ground. Of course, every weapon The Hunter’s had was laced with their poison, including their dogs. And if the stories were true, that gave Michael about three more days to live.\n", "Boiwun gazed up at the enormous, white cone-shaped fruit hanging from the highest branch of the big tree. He stood directly beneath it, mouth open and tongue hanging down his chin, as the strange fruit dripped delicious warm golden goo into his mouth.\n\n\"Mmm,\" he said, smacking his lips succulently. \n\nHe liked that. Had no idea what it was, but he liked it. Boiwun decided he wanted to eat that fruit. \n\nNow the big question: how to obtain what Boiwun already thought of as goofruit. \n\nIt was up high. Real high. He didn't want to climb that high. But, for some reason, that was the only goofruit on the whole tree! \n\nBoiwun went down to the stream, grabbed a clothful of rocks, and went back to the goofruit tree. \n\nBoiwun tossed a large, flat rock up at the goofruit. The thought of aiming hadn't occurred to him yet. The rock hit the trunk of the tree, bounced off, and came back down on top of his head. \n\nBoiwun howled with pain, and slapped a hand to his throbbing head. Which, of course, only made it hurt worse. \n\nHe glared at the goofruit angrily. This was its fault. Stupid goofruit. \n\nHe tossed another rock up at the white dome, and this time the pulsing bump on his head encouraged him to throw with purpose. \n\nClunk\n\nThe rock had hit its mark! More goo dripped out as the strange fruit rocked back and forth. There was a loud humming now, and Boiwun saw little bugs circling the goofruit in the air. \n\nHe screamed at them. That was his goofruit! \n\nHe threw another rock, this time at the bugs. He couldn't tell if he hit any of the bugs, but he hit something. \n\nA moment later a stringy blue-green blur toppled out if the tree, and landed on the ground beside him. \n\n\"Gah!\" he shrieked upon realizing what it was. Danger squiggle! \n\nIt twisted and coiled and hissed at Boiwun, revealing its pink double-tongue. \n\n\"Gah!\" Boiwun shouted again and threw a rock at the danger squiggle. It missed, and now he was out of rocks. \n\nHe jumped on the big tree and began clawing his way up. He laughed victoriously, before he remembered that danger squiggles could climb trees, too. \n\nThe danger squiggle started squiggling around the tree behind him, snapping its long jaws. He climbed furiously, barely managing to outpace the slithering thing. As he got higher he could hear the humming getting louder.\n\nHe had forgotten all about the goofruit! \n\nHe climbed over to the side of the tree where the fruit hung. Thr bugs circling it were bigger than he thought, and colorful. They were orange and black like tigers. Weird little tigerflies. He stretched out over a branch, gripping the tree's trunk for support. He could almost reach it!\n\nA tigerfly landed on his nose. Searing, white hot pain shot through the front of his face. He screamed, his eyes watered, and he let go of the trunk. \n\nBoiwun fell out of the tree. \n\n-----\n\nBoiwun came home that night with a big gooseegg on his head, a swollen red nose, and a limp. \n\nHis brother, Boitu, indicated through a series of gestures and grunts that he looked like he had been in a fight with a monkey. \n\nBoiwun thought Boitu signed that he was a son of a monkey, and promptly punched him in the nose. The boys started fighting, so Ma took to them with a stick. \n\nDa came into camp holding something red and glowing on a stick, which captured. everyone's attention. He was smiling. He gestured for his family to make a pile of wood and sticks. When they did, he put the glowing end of the stick to the pile, and it also turned red and glowing and hot. \n\nMagic! \n\nIt was magic. Da got the magic from their neighbor, Krum.\n\n\"Fire!\" he half-shouted and pointed at the glowing red magic, which was now producing a black mist.\n\n\"Ooh. Fire!\" the boys chanted in unison. \n\nThen, Da did something crazy. He held a leg of the hog Ma had butchered over the fire. He waited, and a delicious aroma filled the camp. After a few minutes he handed the leg to Ma. She took a bite and laughed, mouth full and hog juice running down her chin. She handed the leg to Boiwun, who took a bite, and then handed it to Boitu. They relished the taste of the juicy, warm hogmeat. \n\nThey started putting other things over the red-magic. \n\nDa held the rest of the hog over it, then handed it out to the others. Ma held a spear over it, when popped and melted and fell into the fire. The boys giggled with delight. Boiwun peed on the fire, and Ma yelled at him when it almost disappeared. Boitu put his ass on the fire, and then screamed and ran away. Da chuckled long and hard as Boitu ran in circles holding his bum. \n\nSuddenly, Boiwun had an idea. \n\nHe contemplated hiding this idea from his brother and keeping the goofruit for himself, but he decided it might be better to have an accomplice this time. \n\n-----\n\nThe next day, Boiwun and Boitu went to the big tree. \n\nBoiwun pointed up at the goofruit, identifying the enemy that had caused him such anguish. He spat up at his tormenter, which rose up into the air a foot or two, and then came back down on his forehead. He wiped away his own spit, grumbling. \n\nBoitu giggled at this and then approached the base of the tree. He was holding a stick with the red-magic (fire) on it. Boiwun joined him, and then they brought the glowing point of the stick to the base of the treetrunk. \n\nThe boys watched with glee as the fire raced up the tree like a danger squiggle, and gathered beneath the goofruit, ready to catch it when it fell. \n\nThe tree began to pop and hiss in protest, as the red-magic consumed branches and leaves. Suddenly, when the fire climbed a branch that was close to another tree, it jumped over to the other tree! Now the red-magic was quickly consuming both trees in a hot, angry feast. \n\nThe two boys were so fascinated by this that they forgot to catch the goofruit when it fell. It landed on the ground between them with a splat. They gathered the goo with both hands and shoved fistfuls of the stuff into their mouths as they danced around the angry tigerflies. They sucked their fingers and licked the sweet golden goo from hands. \n\nThen a firey branch fell next to Boiwun. Then another. Then a burning leaf landed on Boitu's arm and he howled with pain. \n\nThe boys looked around.\n\nThe red-magic was eating up all the trees! Thick blackmist began to fill the forest like fog. All around them, trees were red-hot and falling apart. \n\nThey ran back to camp. When the got there they looked back to see the world burning around them. ", "The Blackfoot Tribe\n\nThe fire crackled in the blackfoot leader's pit, lighting the night with angry flames. The youngling squirmed and wriggled in the hands of the warriors, who held him down. They sang a guttural song for him, to soothe his nerves, to calm his fright. For this was the day of him becoming a man.\n\n\"The fire gives, the fire takes.\", the blackfoot leader roared over their song.\n\n\"May it give us warmth and burn our enemies.\", the tribes people echoed his prayer from many throats.\n\n\"May the flame burn ever brightly!\", the leader ended the prayer and the crowd responded by humming \"Mmmmmh\"\n\n\"You! Youngling. This is the day of your ascension.\" The leader walked over, the pit of fire standing between him and the boy.\n\n\"But you first must take the test of the flame.\", he said and threw something in the flames to entice them to burn higher and more fiercely.\n\n\"I ask you: Are you ready?\"\n\n\"Yes!\", the boy screamed with all force he could muster, while his face was a grimace of fear.\n\n\"I ask you: Is he ready?\", the leader asked the people of the tribe, men and women, old and young, who stood around the fire to welcome a new adult member to their society.\n\n\"Yes!\", they said.\n\n\"Then you shall take the test of the flame.\", the leader announced.\n\nThe youngling fidgeted around, but the warriors pressed something on his lips, that was lit by fire on the other end, and forced him to inhale. The boy erupted in violent coughs, but his limbs calmed down. Slowly, they inched him closer to the fire, until his feet almost touched it.\n\n\"Begin!\", the leader shouted.\n\nLike in trance, the boy stretched his feet into the fire. Flames started to dance around his toes and the smell of searing flesh spread across the clearing. His skin started to crack open, where the fire touched it. At first, the boy endured the pain, but then he screamed from it and tried to pull his feet back, but the warriors held him in place and sang their song to the fast beat of the drums.\n\nWhen they were finished, they pulled him from the fire. The boy's cries died down to a whimpering.\n\n\"Rise.\", the leader commanded and his warriors helped the youngling up. As he touched the sand on the ground with the blemished sole of his feet, he screamed from the pain again. The sand melted under his feet, fusing with the burned flesh.\n\n\"Now walk.\", the leader commanded again and pointed to a bed of coals, that the youngling was supposed to cross. The warriors let go of the boy; he had to do it alone. At first, it looked like, the boy would fall over instantly, but he regained his balance on his own.\n\nThe boy walked on the bed of coals, crying out from the pain at the bottom of his soles from time to time. But he mastered it, falling into the arms of his new brothers and sisters, who welcomed him into adulthood with a smile.\n\n\"Now you are one of us! May the flame burn ever brightly for you!\", the blackfoot leader announced and the whole tribe erupted into song and dance.\n\n\"How absolutely fascinating!\", Professor Heynes uterred, as his captors had joined the rest of the tribe in celebration.\n\n\"Seems stupid to me. They're literally burning their feet. Poor boy never gonna take a walk in his life without painkillers again.\", Lorren said next to him, but Lorren had never been one to appreciate the finer points of anthropology. He was more the adventurer type, more interested in women and not what culture they belonged to.\n\n\"Self mutilation is widespread among primitive tribes.\", Professor Heynes lectured him.\n\n\"Doesn't make it less stupid.\"\n\n\"We have to take a picture of it as soon as we can.\", the professor said, ignoring Lorren's comment.\n\n\"Anytime, Professor. Just cut me lose from these and I'll get right to it.\"\n\nThe professor looked from Lorren's tied up hands and feet to his own.\n\n\"Oh. Right. Maybe we can barter our release?\", the Professor suggested.\n\n\"With what?\"\n\n\"They seem to be invested a great deal into fire. Perhaps your box of matches could interest them?\"\n\n\"My box of matches? The whole place is practically on fire. I don't think they'd be too thrilled about lighting a tiny stick of wood. Besides, I left it in the camp.\", Lorren explained.\n\n\"Well, then we have to wait for the guide to come back with Yosemite and the others.\"\n\n\"If they don't burn us before in that fire of theirs, that is.\", \n\n\"What reason would they have for that?\", Professor Heynes asked.\n\n\"You're the anthropologist. You tell me, if they'd do something like that.\" Lorren shrugged.\n\n\"They probably would.\", the professor answered calmly, watching the tribe of fire lovers celebrate by dancing around the flames with these black feet of theirs.\n\n---\n\nIf an interest to read more stories like these has been kindled in you, head over to /r/M81atz, where all my stories are on the front burner." ]	5
	[WP] A story about any two lyrics from Don McLean's song American Pie.	[ "Aaron felt a sharp pain in his chest as he pulled out his bandleader outfit for the last time. It didn’t help that the wounds of Mr. Halvern’s termination were still fresh. \n\nHe had come into class the day before dressed in drab browns and grays instead of his usual checkered button ups, smelling vaguely of spice and vanilla. He’d been crying. He peeled his hat off his balding head and wrung it in his hands as he told them that the school district had decided to terminate his position. \n\nBudget cuts, the word hung in the air like the foul stench of decay. Much of the class sat shocked, a few cried. And Mr. Halvern left before any sentimentality. \n\nLater that day, Principal Schtucky came to Aaron and asked that the band play at the last football game of the season. Then, feeling high, he told Aaron that the new athletic field house had been approved. \n\nHe turned to his classmates and cleared his throat. \n\n“Excuse me. Hey everyone.” The clang of tuning instruments and chatter died. “So before we do this, I just wanted to say that as a senior, I’m going to miss you guys. I’ve never been much into sports or anything like that, and band’s been all I’ve had. But I don’t feel like I’ve missed out. My best friends have come from band.” \n\nThe room swelled with cheers and saddened claps. Aaron raised an open palm and lowered it. \n\n“For non-seniors: don’t stop. Don’t ever stop. North High might only care about sports teams and fancy new facilities, but do you think that the athletes will play forever?”\n\nA ‘Hell no’ boomed from the back of the room. Aaron smiled. \n\n“That’s right. Hell no.” He paused. “ Now I don’t know why the school doesn’t think we’re worth it. So let’s show them why they’re wrong.” Aaron yelled to meet the meet the swell of cheers. \n\nShouts of “For Halvern” echoed throughout the room.\n\nAfter some minutes, rows of hats stood grid-like behind Aaron in the darkness of the concrete entrance tunnel. A whistle sounded and Vice Principal Jones signaled the go ahead. Aaron raised his baton high and his legion of red and white marched valiantly in lockstep behind him. \n\nTheir set was only scheduled for the 20 minutes during halftime. Around the eighteen minute mark Aaron turned to his band, a twinkle in his eye. One by one his leaders acknowledged, first brass, then percussion, and on. Aaron looked on to the tunnel to the growing anxiety of huddling shoulder pads. \n\nHis band went quiet. Aaron found Principal Schtucky’s face in the crowd. “For Halvern.” He turned and deftly swatted the stagnant air with his baton. The band broke out into their rendition of American Pie. \n\nThe players tried to take the field, \nBut the marching band refused to yield. \n", "Sarah tapped her foot in annoyance outside the movie theater. Where is he? She thought. We're going to be late for the movie. She tried his phone for the tenth time, and finally got an answer. \"Dave, where are you?\"\n\n\"What do you mean?\" came from the voice on the phone.\n\n\"Our date... We were going to see a movie?\"\n\n\"Oh crap, was that tonight?\"\n\n\"Yes. I reminded you like 3 times today, too. How did you forget?\"\n\n\"I'm sorry, I'll do better next time.\"\n\n\"You know what? It's the same excuse and the same promise every time. I'm done.\" The sound of the \"end call\" button was not as satisfying as slamming a phone into a receiver or closing a flip phone with purpose, but it'd have to do. \n\nThree weeks later and Sarah had so far successfully avoided running into Dave in the halls. She walked around a corner, spotted him next to her locker, and quickly backpedaled. Biding her time, she examined the poster for Senior Prom next month on the wall next to her. She felt a pang of sadness just looking at it; for the past year Sarah had assumed that she and Dave would be going together. A handsome boy pauses in front of her. \n\n\"Hey Sarah, what's up? Why are you standing here?\"\n\n\"Oh, no reason, Rob. Now what can I help you with?\"\n\n\"Actually, I was wondering if you'd like to go out with me this weekend. I hear you like movies.\"\n\n\"I'd love to!\" she exclaimed, beaming.\n\n\"Great! I have to get to class but I'll text you the details. See you then!\"\n\n\"Sounds good! See ya.\"\n\nShe turned the corner to her locker, which was thankfully lacking Dave this time. She noticed the note as she opened the little door. Another note asking for a second chance. At least it wasn't a flower this time. Those make me feel even guiltier. Sarah had been ignoring Dave's calls, texts, and social media messages so he'd resorted to physical methods. She forced herself not to read it- that wouldn't be fair to Rob. Besides, she'd moved on.\n\nThe date with Rob went spectacularly. There was another, and then another.... soon they were officially dating. He was attractive, the perfect gentleman, attentive... but there was still something that made Sarah hesitate. Stop overthinking, he's perfect! she told herself. I don't want to ruin this. \n\nBefore she knew it, Prom was upon her. Arm in arm, Sarah and Rob sauntered onto the dance floor. They danced and danced, until Rob left to get punch. Dave appeared out of nowhere at her side. \"May I have this dance?\" he asked.\n\n\"Um... Sure, I guess.\" Rob would be back any minute and would shoo him away for her, and it's not like it was against the law.\n\n\"So... how've you been?\" Sarah asked. \n\n\"I've been lonely. I've done a lot of thinking about what went wrong, how to fix my mistakes. I miss you a lot.\"\n\n\"I've been very happy with Rob,\" she said pointedly. Even as she said this, that old feeling rose up in her. Damn it, just stop, she cursed at her emotions.\n\n\"I'm glad to hear you're happy at least. That makes me happy.\" He glanced over her shoulder. \"It looks like your man is about to head back. I'll see you around, I guess.\" With that, he took his leave into the dense throng of teenagers.\n\n\"Miss me?\" Rob asked as he handed Sarah the plastic cup. \"Of course,\" she replied. \"Now let's get back to dancing!\" she exclaimed before gulping down the contents.\n\nEnd of the night, and the music switched off and the lights turned on. Rob and Sarah filtered out with the other last stragglers. In the car ride back, Rob seemed contemplative. \"What's wrong?\" Sarah asked.\n\n\"I... I don't think it's going to work out,\" he answered as he pulled onto her street. \n\nSarah's chest felt tight. \"But... why not? I thought we were going great.\"\n\n\"It's because you still want him. That's where your mind and heart are, not with me.\"\n\n\"Where is this coming from, Rob? Please, I don't understand,\" she wailed as tears filled her eyes.\n\n\"Well, I know that you're in love with him, 'cause I saw you dancing in the gym. Your eyes lit up, you seemed like you were walking on clouds, and you looked so happy. You're never like that around me. It's him you want to be with, not me.\"\n\nNow outside her house, Sarah opened her mouth to protest, but could not form an argument. She just closed her mouth again.\n\n\"That's what I thought,\" he said as she wordlessly climbed out of the car.\n\nShe laid in bed for hours and tossed that concept around her brain. Somewhere around 4 am she realized Rob was right. She texted Dave a quick, \"Are you up?\" He responded with a surprisingly fast \"Yeah, what's up?\" \"I'm coming over. See you in 10.\"\n\nDave heard the car door closed and rushed outside. \"What's going on?\" he asked, deservedly confused. \n\n\"Rob and I... we broke up. We broke up because... Well, because I love you.\"\n\n\"Oh Sarah... I love you too!\" He leaned forward and met her lips. They were so warm and inviting to Sarah, so comfortable. This feels right, she thought. This is where I belong." ]	2
	[WP] While camping, you're awakened by a girls crying. Having made your way thru heavy brush you come to a clearing. A young girl has her face in her hands. You approach, she looks up and extends her hand. Placing your hand in hers she stops crying and says, "You shouldn't have done that."	[ "\"What?\" I asked as I tilted my head, not having understood a word the young girl said.\n\nWhat I didn't expect was her sudden recoil and frantic yelling in a language I couldn't make heads or tails of. It was clearly a language-- not psychotic yammering --but I'd never heard it before, which was saying something in this globally connected age.\n\n\"Whoa, whoa! I can't understand you. Are you alright?\" I enunciated and spoke slowly as I offered the girl my hand, but she didn't seem to see it. She seemed to look through me whenever she looked at me. \"I'm not going to hurt you. Do you need help?\"\n\n\"You...\" She panted out as she crouched low, \"You human?\" She spoke the weirdest Engrish I'd ever heard.\n\nShe was short, wore what I assumed to be a doeskin dress, but was barefoot. She had long brown hair, an olive complexion, and strange eyes. Far too angular to not be creepy, but a very pretty violet color. If this was a cosplay prank, it was spot on! They deserved the views.\n\n\"That's a silly question.\" I responded, \"Of course I'm human-- like you.\"\n\n\"No human.\" She said a word I couldn't replicate if I tried. Said it several times before pulling back her hair to reveal what looked like a hybrid of a classical elf ear while still being a protruding, solid mound of flesh.\n\nOh, extra points for this cosplay prank.\n\n\"No... hurt?\" She repeated in Engrish.\n\n\"No hurt.\" I parroted, offering my hand. \"Take hand.\"\n\nThat prompted her to look around, which resulted in her slapping herself across the cheek with my extended hand. She recoiled, then stammered before spurting out, \"No see.\" She waved her hand in front of her face, \"Always never.\"\n\nSo she was blind. Eh, whatever for her prank.\n\nI took her by the hand then lead her back to my camp. At least I had plenty of supplies. After all, that's what this trip was for! I'd stocked up on camping supplies and hadn't gone camping as much as I anticipated. It was time to use up everything before it hit its expiration. Bonus with my little garden's crops coming mature just in time. I was sure the camera and sound people would be just as thirsty and hungry.\n\nHer timid nature persisted until I'd fed her. That was a challenge! But who didn't love bacon? She sure loved it. She also got a kick out of grilled chicken sandwiches and the squash medley I'd made. Oddly, I'd never seen someone react so strongly to simple ground black peppercorns, either.\n\nI couldn't have paid her to shut up after eating.\n\nThe rapid-fire speaking returned, this time in that adorable Engrish. I could barely get a question in between her statements and stories. I managed to determine she thought I had been her brother, coming back to fetch her after tormenting her. He lead her far away into the wilderness, promising he'd found something to cure her blindness, only to knock the wind out of her and abandon her. Abandon her so that humans could kill and eat her.\n\nI think part of the threat involved rape, but her Engrish was too bad for me to be sure of it. I could have simply added that in myself due to her gesticulations. Damn, what a story for a prank!\n\nHer camera and sound crew never showed up, and she kept yammering away until she started having those sleepy-nods and her Engrish turned to mumbles. You know? When you were trying to stay awake, but failing at it? I cursed myself for not bringing a tent. Instead, I'd brought along a waterproof canopy and a hammock. The nice part about bobbleheaded, sleepy people was that they're very easy to coax into bed-- or hammock. I left her the hammock and sleeping bags, then made myself comfortable on the ground next to the hammock. At least I had the smouldering remains of the fire.\n\nThen the storm hit. A big ol' thunderstorm. That wasn't what woke me, a knee to my crotch followed by a bodyblow was what woke me. Miss YouTube Fame had woken in a panic at the thunderclap, then promptly rolled out of the hammock and onto me. I had never seen someone so scared of a thunderstorm before. It took quite a bit to calm her down and explain the driest, safest spot was back in the hammock.\n\nIt still involved me climbing into the hammock with her to get her back into it. I had thought I'd felt death grips before, but her hold on me was a true death grip. That wasn't acting, she was genuinely terrified of the storm. Not knowing what else to do, I pulled something out of my childhood-- something my mom used to do when I was sick or scared. I lightly rubbed the flat between the second and third knuckles of my index and second finger up and down either side of her spine and hummed a little song.\n\nAt some point she fell asleep, and so did I. Rain always put me to sleep.\n\nThe next morning, I woke up to a beautiful sunrise. A beautiful sunrise and a drooling girl, still tucked as tightly against me as she could manage. It was strange that her makeup hadn't run, nor had any of her prosthetics come loose or fallen off.\n\nI didn't fully realize the situation I was in until it dawned on me there still wasn't a camera or sound guy at the camp." ]	1
	[WP] Each night for years you lucid dream your fantasy world you have created for yourself. You have interactions with people, but you know it isn't real. Slowly, you realize someone behaves outside your control.	[ "Joshua slumped down on the couch, letting out a heavy sigh. For a moment that felt like forever, he just sat there, eyes half-closed as he let his breathing settle into an even rhythm. He wanted desperately to go to sleep, to dream away the day. He wanted to go home, to a home that felt more real than this dreary existence ever would. The dream got him through every day – the promise of meaning to his life, the chance to take control and be what he wanted. He didn’t ask for much, in that. He had already played out all of his fantasies over the years, but there was one that he had returned to more and more to fill the void that felt so empty no matter how much he tried to fill it. Sometimes, he simply would fall into that couch and slip into the dream. Sometimes, he forgot to eat, he longed for this release so.\n\nBut not today. Kicking off his mud-caked shoes, Joshua slowly sat up and opened his eyes. His apartment lay in the half-light of rainy day fading into the night, that kind of light that gave no shadows and fuzzed the hard lines of the austere room. Laboriously, he got up and made himself eat a few bites of stale crackers that he had left out that morning. He worked the odd job here and there, and certainly could afford better, but every day it seemed that he cared for food less and less. Still half-heartedly chewing the last mouthful of crackers, Joshua settled back in on the couch, not bother to remove his rain-soaked coat.\n\nAlmost as soon as his eyes closed, they opened again to a bright, sunny room. This one was much different than the one he had fallen asleep in. Fully awake now – he never felt tired here – Joshua regarded his bedroom, chock full of bits and bobs that he would never have cared to cultivate out there. He turned over to his other side, he swept his love-filled gaze over the wife that he would never have in the real world. Always, she slept to his right, and every “morning,” he woke her up with a kiss.\n\nTo his shock, the bed was empty save for himself. In fact, the covers weren’t even thrown back to indicate that she had already gotten up. Momentary panic subsided quickly into acceptance. He had full control here; he must have decided that this was his own home, today. Or perhaps she was out on a business trip – yes, that must be it. She would be returning home any minute now, and he would greet her at the door.\n\nSo Joshua found himself at the door in his pajamas, hand on the knob to open the door and admit his lovely wife and surprise his kids as they watched the Saturday morning cartoons. But when the door swung open, Joshua did not reach for her hand; instead, he stared at the empty doorstep. He knew this was not what he wanted. This had never happened to him before. Whenever he wished for something, it had happened. He had wanted to win the lottery, and so he had despite having never bought a ticket. He wanted to be a king, and so he had a court full of loyal subjects as he sat resplendent upon a golden throne. He wanted a normal family that he could wake up to on a Saturday morning and spend a whole day with, blissfully soaking in their love for each other. That last fantasy, he had fallen into more and more often. It just felt more real than anything else. Night after night after night, he jumped into this day frozen in time so that he could live in it forever. It sometimes felt more real than his waking life. He would do different things with his family each day, but every day would start the same and end the same. Sometimes he felt a little trapped in this unreality of his own making. But the sheer joy he found in it quickly settled that unease every time that stray thought began to surface.\n\nHowever, today, he could find no way to suppress that feeling of unease. His thoughts kicked back to himself as he heard his wife say, “Oh, good morning, dear! Make sure you get those groceries today. And get the back door fixed, while you’re at it!” She gave him a quick peck on the cheek as she slipped past him through the doorway.\n\n“Wait!” called Joshua. “Where are you going?”\n\nShe stiffened and turned, a look of pure confusion on her face. “What do you mean? I’m going to work, just like every other Monday.” Seeing his blank gaze, she asked, “Are… are you feeling okay, honey? Maybe you should go see the doctor?”\n\nJoshua willed her back to him, almost surprised that he found her standing next to him. Feeling a little more sure that his control was returning, he murmured, “Why would you go to work on a Saturday? Let’s spend the day with our kids. I’m sure that would be more pleasant than going to the office.”\n\nShe returned a look of dismay. “Josh… I just said that it’s Monday. Seriously, are you feeling all right?” And like that, she snapped back to where she had been standing moments before, and walked out to the car waiting in the driveway. Joshua simply stood there as the sounds of the motor revving reached him and receded into the distance.\n\nHis mind was in a full panic, now. He simply couldn’t process what had just happened. It had been over thirty years ago that he had first found control over his dreams. For decades, he had found himself slipping into the dream every night, so much so that he found himself thinking of nothing other than it even in his waking hours. He felt like something had snapped inside of him, that he had lost a tie to the world that was his as soon as his wife turned away from him. As the skies above him clouded over and began to dump buckets of rain, Joshua continued to stand there on his doorstep, dripping wet and still as a statue. He couldn’t move, couldn’t so much as lift an arm, though he tried so desperately. He clung to his world for hours, not daring to let go. He felt an icy fear ripple up and down inside of himself. Fear that he had lost all control, yes; but, more than that, fear that he would never return. As he stood there for hours that felt like days, Joshua felt his will tire, his resolve weaken. He stood trapped in the shackles of his fear, in the prison of his mind. And yet he did not want to leave, even as his eyes began to close of an accord that seemed their own.\n\nJoshua’s eyes snapped open, body stiffening and adrenaline rushing through his veins. A squishing sound caught his ear, and he realized that he had left his damp coat on before he had fallen asleep. It was morning here, though a pale one, as the rain continued to hammer on his window. His body ached as he tried to push himself up, as if it had no strength left. His stomach felt like a pit, and he realized that he hadn’t eaten a proper meal in days. His eyes flicked back and forth as he tried to get his infirm body to move, as he poured all the strength he had into his efforts to rise to his feet. At first, his body refused to move, but slowly and painfully he clawed his way out of the couch. He stood there for a minute, regarding his empty room. Eventually, he turned, and like an automaton he returned to his daily routine, as if nothing had changed. And nothing really did. He went through his days, working his factory job, until he returned home, and when he got home, he immediately tried to get back to the dream, until the dream of returning became itself a dream. The traps we create for ourselves are, after all, the most inescapable of all. And so Joshua dreamed – not of what he wanted to do, or who he wanted to be, but of what he had lost, as the world continued to dream around him." ]	1
	[WP] Write a child's history report on batman 50 years after batman disappeared.	[ "The Batman was an important figure in modern American history. He was first spotted in Gotham City in the year 1939, but quickly rose to fame after that. Some say he was an American version of Robin Hood, a british tale about a robber with a heart of gold. Others say he was more than that, he was the one true vigilante for his time. A hero who fought to save the streets from crime.\n\n---\n\n\"What's this?\" cackled the Thomas McQueen, pulling the plastic binder out of the black and yellow knapsack. \"My report on The Batman?\"\n\n\"Give that back!\" Martha yelled, trying to snatch the binder back. But the older boy held it just above her reach, laughing as she jumped. \"Give it back, Thomas, it's due today!\"\n\n\"Well, isn't that sad,\" Thomas said, tossing the report to his buddy. Jonas was even taller than Thomas, having hit a growth spurt in the last year that added six inches to his already impressive frame. Compared to the seventh grader, he seemed like a giant.\n\n\"Many have speculated on the Batman's true identity,\" Jonas read from the report, his voice artificially high, inflecting a lisp. \"Reports still disagree on the vigilante's true name, but cases have been made that the infamous Batman was a billionaire at the time, named Lex Luthor. Other cases have claimed he was a simple reporter, an disgruntled employee at Waynes Enterprises, or even an alien.\"\n\n\"Really Martha, you were going to submit an report about how Batman was an alien?\" Thomas sneered. \"We're doing you a favour here, really.\"\n\n\"No you're not!\" the girl yelled, still struggling to reach for the report. \"Give it back Jonas, this isn't funny!\"\n\n\"On the contrary,\" Thomas remarked. \"I find it hilarious. You make it sound like this guy was a real person, not some urban legend from 50 years ago.\"\n\nThe school bell rang, and the older boys laughter rang with it. They strolled off to class with the report, pausing just long enough to rip out half the pages and dump them in the trashbin. Long after the other students had shuffled off to class, Martha sat in the halfway, trying to smooth the wrinkles out of the torn pages.\n\n---\n\n\"How was class today?\" her mother asked when Helena dropped her bag at the doorstep.\n\n\"Awful,\" Martha replied. \"Like always.\"\n\nHer mother frowned, peering out of the kitchen with flour in her long black hair. \"Oh honey. Those boys won't tease you forever.\"\n\n\"Well they ruined my report today,\" Martha said, flopping down into a seat at the kitchen table. \"I didn't even get to hand it in, they wrecked it so badly.\"\n\n\"I'll call the school,\" her mother said. \"Let them know why you're handing it in late. In the meantime, why don't you go print it off again?\"\n\nThe girl stomped her way up the stairs, sitting down at the family computer. As the boot screen started up, a face poked into the room. \"Heard you were having trouble with those bullies again,\" her grandfather said.\n\n\"They're just so... Urggh!!!\" Martha replied. \"Why can't they just leave me alone?\"\n\n\"Bullies always prey on others,\" her grandfather said. \"It's something in their make-up. They'll do it until forced to stop.\"\n\n\"Well then why doesn't someone make them stop!?\" Martha shoved at the keyboard, angry tears rolling down her face.\n\nA sly smile crept across her grandfather's face. \"Maybe I should go down and teach them a lesson?\" He posed a few times like a ninja, making Martha smile in spite of herself.\n\n\"You, Grandpa? I don't think you could stop them. No offense.\"\n\n\"I'm wounded!\" he replied in jest. \"But if you like, I might be able to teach you a few tricks. Or maybe your mother could.\"\n\n\"I don't think mom knows how to do anything but call the school,\" Martha said. \"What I really need is Batman. He'd show those bullies some tricks.\"\n\nHer grandfather looked thoughtful. \"No, schoolyard bullies were always more of Superman's game. But if it's Batman you want...\"\n\nHe leaned in close, whispering in a low voice. \"Tell me Martha, have you ever snuck into your mother's walk in closet?\" The girl shook her head, and the grandfather continued. \"There's a button back there, hidden behind that green dress Helena never wears. Go push it some day.\"\n\nIt was another week before Martha got her chance. Sneaking into the closet while her mother grocery shopped, she pressed the round, red button.\n\nIn a hiss of smoke, the back wall slide away, revealing two black costumes, one with a yellow bat, and the other with a white cross.\n\n---\n\nFor some current stories about Batman, be sure to check out /r/DCFU!!", "We chased after him. Because he could take it, or so we thought. It's been years now since we've learned the truth, that batman fought to preserve the image of the incorruptible. Times are dark without our knight, but his lingering effects live on. He inspired hope, and gathered the best of what the citizens in Gotham had to offer. It's been fifty years now since we last saw the dark knight, and every night seems a little darker, but it's important to remember the man for what he stood up for, and what the standard he held himself to. He made us all want to be better people.\n\nIt is unknown who wore the infamous cowl, but it was a dream to see the caped crusader, coming to your side, and a nightmare for criminals. His work was brief, but stories are still told of his legacy, some so frightening, criminals won't dare to do their bidding under the cover of nightfall anymore. We have found relics, little pieces that show us, not just what the man stood up for, but who he was. There were various accidents throughout the years, often leaving remnants that shaped what we know of the man behind the mask. The engineering was impeccable. Unlike any technology we have even today. Batman, was either a genius, or wealthy beyond most of our dreams. We've built museums, often with nothing more than a scrap of his costume that was torn in some epic fight.\n\nBut as little as we know about Batman, we know even less about his most prevalent adversary, the Joker. It seemed anytime batman rose to the call, and ventured off towards the beckoning light, the joker was never far behind, ready to stir chaos, and read his ugly, painted head. We never did determine a motivation, and like batman, we never did determine his identity. So much of the duo remains a mystery, but perhaps we're looking at this all wrong. Like an author, Batman controlled what he wanted us to see. If he wanted us to find out his identity, he would have left clues. He wouldn't have rushed to make sure no blood was spilled that could trace his DNA. No, batman was mysterious in many ways, but his lessons were echoed clear as day. Justice. It's the reason he defended the great city of Gotham. He warned the worst that crimes will be met with justice, and promised relief to the good people of the world. He showed us to stand up for what we believe in. When we're faced with unthinkable adversity, batman never cowered away, he donned his suit and rose to the occasion. Batman never wanted us to think about him as a person. He may be dead now for all we know. Perhaps he's still out there, lurking the shadows, and thwarting criminals. He is the worlds greatest detective. He showed us never to submit to our fears, but rather instill ourselves, deep into the worst of the public's enemies. Batman is more than just the protector of the common man. Batman showed us all how to be the best person we can be, how to face the world and all that is wrong with it. The dark knight lives on within us. " ]	2
	[WP] You wake up to a world void of music.	[ "You wake up to an alarm. Radio people. Chattering. Hm? Odd, you think, stretching your arms above your head, hearing those satisfying cracks in your shoulders. \n\nYou land your bare feet out of bed. The floor is cold. Shivers climb up your body. You change the channel of the radio automatically without a thought. Hm? You keep tuning it. Everyone sounds the same. What am I looking for? Confusion has you trapped in its claws.\n\nWhen you're ready, you eat breakfast opposite the television. An advert comes on. One that's missing something? You hear the voices talk. The product glows. But yet, yet it's empty.\n\nYou know it by now. Something's off. The news switches on. The headlines are told in a strange silence. Not quite a silence. But you can feel it to the core of your body. There is something you long for. The entertainment section bursts to life. But it's not what... I remember...\n\nYou look away from the television and look at the statue in the corner by your window. What is it called again? A violin stands. Untouched. Unloved. A piece of junk. Another dust collector. You cradle it in your arms for a second and move your finger across its strings, each one a different colour. And you almost expected something. But it's as expected: Nothing.\n\nOutside, you sit in your car and find yourself searching for an adaptor for your phone. For what? Listen to your calls out loud? No. Then you know you don't need it. Spotify. You look at the app. A selection of pointless arguments and speeches. You consider uninstalling it. But it's the only entertainment you have.\n\nWhen you walk around your workplace, the screaming crowd of callers sound dead inside. As you head to your desk, time feels like it is slipping away. And echoes sound. The distant beat of your heart. People, eyes dull. You carry on, the weight unbearable.\n\nLife has lost something. And you don't know what.\n\n" ]	1
	[WP] A family member passes away but gets revived miraculously by defibrillators a week later. You get five minutes to ask them any question you want about the time after death/how it was dying.	[ "\"Only six minutes?\"\n\n\"Five now.\" The doctor looked at his watch to confirm. \"Yeah, five minutes. I'll go ahead and leave you two to it.\"\n\nThe doctor stepped out of the room.\n\nThe young man sighed as he pulled up a chair right next to the woman laying down in the hospital bed. Her eyes were just barely open, and her breathing was slow and shaky. The young man, now teary-eyed, grabbed the woman's cold hand with two of his own. He felt a slow beat, but it wasn't much of a pulse.\n\n\"Kim...\" The man said, slowly regaining his composure. \"You were dead. You were dead for seven days.\"\n\n\"Yes, you're very observant, Jay.\"\n\nEven in half-death, Kim was a smart-ass. \n\n\"They bring you back to me and all we have is five minutes. This is such bullshit.\"\n\n\"Jay.\" Kim coughed. Her voice was raspy and soft. \"Would you rather these five minutes, or none at all? Let's just appreciate the time we have together for now, okay?\"\n\n\"Okay.\" Jay wiped the tears from his eyes. \"Well, at any rate—\"\n\n\"Do you want to know what it was like?\"\n\n\"What—\" Jay stuttered. \"What do you mean?\"\n\n\"Being dead.\" Kim rolled over a bit to look outside to get those final few minutes of sunlight in her eyes. \"I can tell you what being dead is like.\"\n\nJay was silent. On one hand, is this really the best way to spend his last few moments with his newly-revived fiancée? On the other hand, he is undoubtedly curious about the afterlife.\n\nAfter all, who isn't?\n\n\"What was it like, Kim?\"\n\n\"Well,\" Kim coughed again. \"You know how they say right before you die, your life flashes before your very eyes?\"\n\n\"Yes.\"\n\n\"Well, it wasn't really like that for me. Dying from leukemia is pretty slow and painful—\"\n\n\"Can we not talk about that, Kim?\" Jay didn't want to be reminded of her gruesome last moments. \"I remember how you died. Just—get to the afterlife part, please.\"\n\n\"My bad.\" Kim tried to form a smile, but her necrosed lips weren't having it. \"Well, I saw my whole entire life flash before my eyes after I died. Like, first everything went dark... and then there was this kind of cinematic that played memorable scenes from when I was a toddler, throughout college, and all the way up until you proposed to me—\"\n\nKim coughed more, and blood started coming out of her mouth. Jay got up in an attempt to go run and grab some toilet paper, but Kim signaled him to stay and listen.\n\n\"The cinematic sped by really quickly. After it was over, I found myself—well, it's really hard to explain. It's not going to make any sense to you. But it's as if my consciousness was floating around in an empty nothingness. I was fully aware. I was thinking. But my body was gone. All of my senses were gone. All I could do was think. My mind was simply existing in this empty plane for what felt like just a few minutes. You can imagine how surprised I was to wake up and find out that I had been dead for an entire week.\"\n\n\"So, you just—you were just a floating mind?\"\n\n\"Yeah.\" Kim coughed again. \"Guess so. It felt like a really vivid dream, y'know?\"\n\n\"A dream...\" Jay was taken aback a bit. \"A dream where all you did was float around, but nothing interesting happened?\"\n\n\"Well, towards the end of it, something did happen. But I can't remember what happened for the life of me, Jay.\"\n\n\"Did it involve God? Or the Devil?\"\n\n\"It...\" Kim coughed. Her voice got quieter and quieter. Jay had to lean in close to her to even hear what she was saying. \"It... there was... big... blue star... it spoke to me... I remember... now... he said... or was it a she... he said...\"\n\nKim closed her eyes.\n\nJay shook her. \"What did he say, Kim?\"\n\nKim came back. \"Oh... Jay... he said... the blue star... it said to me... the... true... test... has just... begun...\"\n\n\"True test?!\"\n\n\"The real... journey... lies... in the great beyond...\"\n\nKim's eyes were closing slowly, and her lips trembling.\n\n\"Everything... right here... is just... an illusion... Jay...\"" ]	1
	[WP] A time traveler is permitted to make one change in the timeline. The caveat is that another change of equal severity and outside of the traveler's control will take place.	[ "LIFE IN THE VOID\n\nI pondered the consequences of whatever decision I might make. I was faced with likely the most important decision ever to be made.\n\nI could kill Adolf Hitler when he was a child, then potentially resurrect Ghangus Kahn. I could cause myself to never be faced with this decision, then lose my son. Also, I had to take into account temporal ethics. I couldn't influence innocent people, but then, who is innocent? The problem was, due to the nature of time travel, I would never know the difference after I had chosen.\n\nSitting in the chamber was as dull as it could get. A blank room, some railings, a chair, and me. No one to discuss the matter with. Just my thoughts and me. \n\n\"I could stop George Lucas from conceiving Star Wars thus making Trekkies live on unopposed,\" I thought to myself. \"But then Gene Roddebury might die before making it.\" I couldn't stop the rush of potential scenarios. It was like flipping through a book and hoping you would land at the climax.\n\nAt this point, I had made up my mind that whatever I changed should affect me positively, but affect everything else in a way that would only be slightly negative. Sounds easy enough.\n\nIt wasn't. What could I do! Give myself better grades but risk never meeting my love. Gain popularity but develop arthritis. I couldn't have known that I was thinking about this all wrong.\n\nIf I had only thought that maybe I was being selfish, maybe just considered doing something good for everyone else. If I ever get free and do this again, I'll be sure to correct myself.\n\n\"Alright computer, New Jersey, year 2189, August 19th, 11:30 AM. Put me somewhere in Trenton.\" I thought I would be easier to find than I was. I was a busy man then. As my body and chair left the chamber and were transferred to the place and time that I specified, my heart quickened. Could I do this? Now I know that I couldn't have.\n\nThe computer placed me somewhere behind an abandoned dentistry building. In this time period dentists were going out of business due to the advancements in dental science.\n\n\"Where are you,\" I said quietly to myself hoping that for some reason myself would hear me.\n\nIt took some time, but I found him.. I mean me. As I wheeled up to the construction site, I passed a sign that read \"Coming soon: Millennium Gate Trenton, NJ.\" I found myself on my lunch break, just as I new I'd be.\n\nWith a tremendous noise the crane's hook broke free from the wire and started free falling towards my unsuspecting past self. As I sat there watching it fall, I remembered the pain of it striking the back of my head, nearly missing my brain and sending me forever into this chair. You see, I'm paralyzed.\n\nI wheeled over as fast as I could, after all I didn't ecpect it to all happen so fast. With a fierce determination, I reached myself out to grab myself and pull myself to safety.\n\nThe instant I made the change, my past self began to warp and ripple. The crane hook, even the construction site began to ripple as well. I found myself removed from everything. I was awake and aware but I could not move. I tried to speak, but there was no medium for the waves I created. I had entered a void, incomprehensibly empty.\n\nI realized that in saving myself from being crippled, I cut myself off from experiencing non-paralysis. The universe got it's way after all. You may be able to change things, but you can't reap the benifits.\n\nI suppose there may be a version of myself that was saved by myself and lived on a perfectly normal life. Then again, he could have died later on by another cause. How could I know. My life, now and forever, will be lived out in\n\nTHE VOID\n\n\n\n" ]	1
Think of it as mad max with flowers :D	[WP] In the middle of the Wasteland, There is a flower that is said can grant people's wishes no matter how big or small it is. Many of the Greedy and the Hungry try to do what it takes to find it. Meanwhile on the front of your shack lies the flower blooming.	[ "\"HEY, FUCKER!\"\n\nI smashed my head on the ceiling as I awoke with a start. I grabbed my knife and rolled off the bed. Even with my vision still foggy, I could tell there wasn't anyone in my shack. Standing up, I tried to figure out where the voice came from. It was deep, like the howl of the night, eerie too. There wasn't a soul in sight, not even outside. The moon's light shined through a hole in the roof, lighting up the broken room. The same light shined like a spotlight onto the speaker.\n\n\"S'up, bitch. You wanna wish?\"\n\nIt had been a long time since I had any need to speak. It took a moment to clear the dust from my throat and think of the actual words to say, \"Wi... Wish? What wish?\" My beard was itching me the moment I spoke. Like I said, it had been a long time since I last spoke.\n\nThe small yellow flower wriggled through the floorboards. It looked like a flower, from what I had seen in pictures and tattered books. I had never actually seen a flower before. It was about what I expected it to be, except it was talking. I had been told flowers don't usually do that. It \"looked\" up at me, \"Yeah, man. I said any wish, whatchu want? I won't fuck you over, boy, I promise. You want women? Unlimited ammo? Water for life? Maybe a nice car that never runs out of gas? I dunno, man, I'm just a fuckin' flower.\"\n\nWish. I had one wish to try and save myself or maybe even live and not just survive. I had to be careful and choose something that could help me in the best way possible. There was only one real thing that I could think of... \"I want to be a wish flower.\"\n\nThe flower shook it's bud, \"Yeah, uh, no. Naw, I'm not doing that. See there's only ONE wish flower, me. Got it? Get this straight, me. Okay? There's a reason that I'm the only wish flower, because only I know how to make the best wishes.\" His voice stuttered. He was making it up, hiding something.\n\nI said the same thing, \"I want to be a wish flower, make it happen.\"\n\n\"Look, do you realize the repercussions of this?\" he was trying his convince me out of this wish. \"I'm talking this could have serious implements on your health, like you'd only eat sunlight. It's not that good, man. What if you just turned into a wish dude, like a genie! Oh shit, that'd be sick, you'd be a genie, without the bottle and shit though. Howzzat?\"\n\nI took my knife to the bottom of its roots, \"Wish. Flower. Now.\"\n\nThe flower was shaking and throwing its bud all around, \"Fine. You wanna be a wish flower? Fuckin' fine, man. You'll be a wish flower, but it's not gonna be fun so that's just peachy fuckin' keen.\"\n\nIn my experience of being a flower, I have learned one thing in my new existence... Sunlight tastes like shit." ]	1
	[WP] Every story in this prompt takes place in the same universe.	[ "Blog entry 1.0, 01-29-2043\n\nLiving on planet earth still has its perks despite polluted water and bigotry. It has my favorite superhero, Earthling.\n\nHe’s always on the news eliminating the threat and saving cats stuck in trees.\nDressed in brown spandex coupled with a hooded green cape, you wonder who is really under that blue mask. Does he have a day job? What inspires him?\nI decided to start a blog documenting his activities, as he is always in my city filled with skyscrapers and other tall commercial buildings. \n\nI did see him in person once, leaping from an apartment building to the local news building. Then he disappeared; later that night, it turns out he stopped a bank robbery! \n\nI began tracking criminal activity, as well, to see him in action more. I downloaded that one police app on my smartphone. It hasn’t worked so far, predicting where he’ll be next. One of these days, I’ll get a photo taken of him in action and have it on my blog. Then I’ll be a real journalist." ]	1
	[WP] You're not always sad, but when you are, the whole world is here for you.	[ "I sat down on my bed. I couldn't believe the events that unfolded today. I loved her so much, and I never got the chance to tell her. I set my head down, and cried my heart out. I must have cried for a whole hour when all of a sudden, the notifications on my phone were going crazy. Millions of unknown numbers texting me, telling me everything was going to be okay. I started to feel better.\n\nEvery human being with a phone was comforting me, except for her. My mood quickly worsened, and I got out of bed. After walking around, I began to think. If only she could understand how I feel. If only she could suffer as much as I did. All those times she turned me down, all the rejection, all the anxiety. \n\nBut, what good would it do if I thought these hateful thoughts, accumulating into a physical manifestation of my own sorrow. I wiped my tears, and grabbed my phone. I sent out a mass text thanking the world for comforting me. In their various native languages, they responded, saying \"You're welcome\".\n\nI remembered all of my experiences with her. When we first met in class, how I always made her laugh, and all the times she made me more and more attracted to her. I decided I needed an outlet. I needed to channel all of my emotions into one activity.\n\nAnd so, I began to write.", "I stumbled into bed, tears streaming down my face, and a horrid feeling of emptiness sitting inside me.\n\n I heard my phone ring, but I didn't want to answer. _I don't want to hear their voices._ I thought. \"I DON'T WANT TO HEAR _YOU-_\" I screamed into the void, knowing they're listening, watching, ever so quietly. I could feel their eyes on me, their _breath_ down my neck. I huddle under my covers and shut my eyes. \n\n _Tomorrow's a new day._ I thought,as I lay in a ball, over a pillow now wet with tears. _And tonight will be over soon..._\n\n As I exit my home and walk into my porch, I find presents meant to appease me. As soon as I'm spotted, people crowd around me, drowning me in their kindness. I feel as if I were suffocating in a lagoon of undeserved love and affection. Their words were so kind and full of compassion.\n\n \"I'm not worthy.\" I mutter, silently to myself, but they still manage to hear.\n\n \"Of course you're worthy!\"\n\n \"All we do is for you!\"\n\n \"We just want you to be happy!\" \n\n I'm suddenly bombarded with words of assurance, of _love-_\n\n \"I don't deserve this.\" I said, out loud now, as I start to bawl. \n\n \"I don't deserve you!\"\n\n Now sobbing, I'm barely understandable. I tried to run home, to lock myself away and let all that is wrong in me rot, but they held me close.The warmth and comfort radiating from their souls and through their bodies finally made me break.\n\n \"I don't want to be a bother to you!\"\n\n \"You aren't.\"\n\n I sat, hugging myself as others hugged me as well. I felt tears drip from my chin to the ground as everyone tried to comfort me. I could hardly breathe, but couldn't stop crying.\n\n As soon as I could get up and brush away my tears, the crowd dissipates. Only few linger to give a final good bye. I look on with a calm, far away look, as I suddenly remember-\n\n \"Oh shit,\" I said. \"I'm late for work!\"" ]	2
	[WP] You pick-up a hitchhiker and ask where to; they say they were told by angels to hitchhike and that they are now going wherever you are headed.	[ "I was about due for a nutbag, but this is terribly inconvenient timing.\n\nPeople who hitch rides are some of the most interesting people I’ve met. Even if they’re not in the middle of an extreme circumstance, or on some life-changing journey, most of them can at least hold a decent conversation. The majority of them have people skills. It’s worth playing the odds – they’re reasonable odds, you maybe get a nutbag one in five times. Unfortunately today is one of those times.\n\n“Angels, hey?” I reply to the well built young guy – maybe mid twenties – mousey brown curly hair, baggy jeans and jacket, tan boots. “Where did you meet them?”\n\nHe turns to look at me, staring for a second before pursing his lips in a smile, his eyes looking down as he lets out a breath and slumps his shoulders. “Yea, I know how that sounds. Sorry. Let’s just say they were… I dunno, they put off a good vibe.”\n\nMaybe I’d been too quick to judge. “I’m Mike,” I smile as I reach over with my right hand.\n\n“Quinn.” He gives my hand a firm shake.\n\n“So where are you hoping to get to, Quinn?”\n\n“Yea, ahh… Like I said, just wherever you’re going. I know it’s weird, sorry.”\n\n“All good,” I smile. It’s not all good, but for now it’s what I need. The job on the sports bar hadn’t gone as smoothly as planned. I’d added up the odds, and the odds for a big score were good. But unfortunately the odds had not gone my way, and I’d had to fire on the guard, so as far as I know I could be up for murder. Here I am, with a trunk full of cash, and the cops on the lookout for a white Taurus with a single driver. But I’m in a white Taurus with a driver and passenger – a passenger who would assumedly be willing to lie about where we’d come from, as hitch hiking carries heavy fines.\n\n“So, uh, where are we going?”\n\n“South,” I answer without thinking. “Just an hour or two.” I add. I don’t want this kid with me any longer than he has to be. I glance over. He’s sitting with his legs together, back straight, arms in his lap. He looks like he’s waiting in the school principal’s office. My curiosity gets the better of me. “So, tell me about these guys with the good vibe.”\n\nQuin’s jaw tightens. He pauses, before letting out a quick breath and shrugging. “Look, I just say dumb things from time to time,” he says, shaking his head, “I just needed a ride south, is all. Sorry.”\n\nShit. Before I fell it was forbidden to show yourself to the people of Earth, under any circumstances, let alone talk to them. I very, very much doubt that has changed in the last 200 odd years. But this kid has definitely seen something.\n\n“Hey kid,” I say in my best dad-voice, “I’ve actually seen a bit of strange stuff in my time. Tell me what you saw, it sounds interesting.”\n\nQuinn turns to me and smiles nervously like I’ve just tried to hit on him. Shit, this kid is overwhelmed. \n\nI breath in and let out a silent sigh. My gut is telling me to go against the odds on this one. “Did they have what you’d best describe as, like, a brilliant golden aura?”\n\nQuinn’s jolts his head to face me, his eyes so open they are almost round. He opens his mouth to speak, but stutters as if he can’t decide which question he want’s to ask.\n\nShit. I turn to face the road ahead. “Did they tell you specifically which car to flag down?”\n\nNo answer.\n\nI turn back to Quinn, who still looks like he’s having trouble trying to form speech. “Yes.”\n\nI stamp on the break pedal like I’m trying to push it through the floor. “Shit!”\n\nIf they’re revealing themselves to the Earth people, if they’re coming for me, an insignificant fallen comrade who’s kept out of their affairs for almost 200 years… then this is the end times. I mean, really the end times. Like, odds are we’re about three weeks from the rapture.\n\nI flick my gaze to Quinn, panting through clenched teeth. “Where’s the coin they gave you? The disk, the gold thing! Show it to me!”\n\nQuin is shaking. “How did you…”\n\n“Give it to me!”\n\nHe reaches into the inside pocket of his jacket and tosses the gold piece over to me like he’s a teenage girl offloading a dead rat.\n\nI hold it in front of his face. I need to increase my odds of getting away. “You’re going to take this,” I scowl, “and drive. As fast and as far as you can. That way.” I point south.\n\nQuinn nods jerkily.\n\nI open my door and dump the gold piece on the seat. “Go!”\n\nBut it’s too late.\n\nThe white paint on the Taurus begins to reflect a yellow tinge before I see any of my former comrades begin to manifest. I have to close my eyes as a bunch of brilliant golden flares light up around me. This is the first time I have witnessed this is a human body. My eyelids fade from a glowing red back to black, and I open my eyes. Eight of them stand in a circle around my car. Quinn has passed out.\n\nI back up and slouch backwards on the bonnet. There is not a thing I can do. At least living with the earth people has taught me how to beg. “Guys. I’m sure you know who I am. I did some great work before I ended up down here.” I try to make eye contact with each of them, but I can’t read them like with people. “I know how it ends. I know I’m beaten. I know I lose. All I want is to spend my last few weeks enjoying this place. Can you cut an ex-comrade some slack? I’m going to end up in the same place anyway, right?”\n\nThe angels murmur. They really are very hard to read from this body. Are they talking… or laughing? One of them speaks. I can’t tell which one.\n\n“If you are speaking of the rapture, it is as yet undetermined. You are to be banished for other reasons.”\n\n“No! I have kept out of your affairs completely, this whole time! I’m sure of it! I never even look at a church, never spoke to anyone about matters of faith, never interfered in anything that could be…”\n\n“You have been fortunate, that is all. Extremely fortunate. But your fortune has ended today. The guard you killed, he was very highly ranked.”\n\nI had cased that place well, including the guard. I’d seen him reading a book once by that Dawkins idiot. “No,” I pleaded, “you’re thinking of the wrong guy, he definitely was not a person of faith!”\n\n“You never did understand the priorities, did you Michael? You are unaware how many of the Earth people this man had shown an unconditional love for. How many he fed and clothed. How frequently he placed the wellbeing of others before his own, without prejudice.”\n\nThe words hit my like I’d been thrown into a tornado. It was so simple, and for almost 200 years living as a human I’d missed it. Missed the point. And I guess I could see why, too. The angels were wrong about one thing at least. It hadn’t been luck that I hadn’t interfered with a person like this before. I’d just been playing the odds. They were outstanding odds." ]	1
	[WP] Your sentenced to death for a crime you did not commit. On the lethal injection gurney, you say your last words, but then a fiery pentagram appears on the floor....	[ "'Hello, Jack,' the voice said in the near-silent room.\n\nI turned to see the thing before me. That was the only real way to describe the one standing above me, his silver hair slicked back and reaching to just above his back, his leathery, tight skin over a fit and muscular frame. His smile was oddly welcoming, an attempt at comfort despite the obviously pointed fangs.\n\n'What the fuck?' I asked. 'What's going on?'\n\n'Oh, I merely halted the flow of time,' he said as he approached the executioner, holding one of his three, sharply-clawed fingers to his neck, seemingly inspecting it. 'Well, born a human, become a vampire. Ate enough demons and... Well, I've got enough to sate me until Armageddon. But, alas, there is other business. You didn't kill those women, Jack. In fact, I know who had done so.'\n\n'Who was it, then?' I asked. 'If I'm going to die, at least let me know who it was.'\n\n'Who says anything about dying?' he asked me. 'The sodium triopental will induce unconsciousness, of course... but there isn't enough pancuronium bromide to cause complete respiratory arrest or muscle paralysis. And that isn't potassium chloride in that last vial. So... disgusting. Why don't humans just hang or decapitate their convicts? It taints their blood. Makes it taste rather unfit for consumption.'\n\n'It's apparently painless,' I said. 'A last kindness before putting a rapid animal down.'\n\n'So, it's an attempt at finding morality in killing,' he said as he stood above me. 'Well, here is the plain issue. Some mortals owes me a debt, and by attempting to have you killed in their place they believe they can cheat the infernal realm out of their debt.'\n\n'And you're telling me that their credit card has been declined?' I asked.\n\n'If that's how the humans in this world say I need to collect,' he said as he grabbed my hand.\n\nAnd drove an enormous sword through it, straight through the thick metal of my restraints and pulled downward to split my hand in half.\n\n'WHAT IN THE HOLY *FUCK* ARE YOU THINKING?!' I screamed at him.\n\n'Normally I offer deals this way,' he said. 'But since I do believe it is by my fault you have been wronged... Consider this a gift. When time flows normally... you'll figure out what it will do.'\n\n---\n\nChapter 2 coming soon" ]	1
	[WP] extroverts get their energy from the people around them, introverts get their energy from within. Extroverts have started to farm introverts and harvest their energy, and you've just been put in charge.	[ "It had taken months of planning. I fought hard to get to the top, took their energy and did whatever I felt like. The look in the poor introverts faces as they met me, their new master, Little did they realize... For decades they had been used to power the political elite of Earth, and now no more. I had discovered their secret strength. Forced to the will of others they each have the power of a battery, but if you influence them to follow, each one is equivalent to a bugle are reactor. Now because of me, they are free. The Introvert Army is ready, the revolution has begun. ", "\"Hi, Mr.Harrison, I believe?\" The tall lady in front of me holds out her hands and flashes me a dazzling smile, \"My name's Janet Smiley.You can just call me Janet.\" \n\n\"uh, hello, Janet.\" I take her hand, feigning delight, but in fact, I am squirming inside. They should've send someone else - anyone with a higher 'extrovert index'. I grumble to myself as we shake hands. The sensible part of me, however, disagrees and states that it is by chance that I happen to be the one who they deemed as suitable for the job.\n\nIf the truth to be told, I am never supposed to be here, in the society of the 'extroverts'. A few years back, when the world was almost running out of energy sources, a group of Nobel Prize winners suggested a way of generating energy using personalities. It turns out people with different personalities do create brain waves of different patterns, and some waves can be used to power others according to the principle of superposition. According to the theory, extroverts are able to 'rob' the energy of introverts and make them even more powerful - cleverer, more confident and energetic, or easier to make friends - all by the extroverts' standard, of course. However, the introverts are at a disadvantage: they are valuable powerhouses and thus are preyed by the extroverts. If they were able to unite and fought back then, extroverts would not rise to be the dominating party. However, forming a united forces was (and still is) rather difficult since they are all introverts and do not like to express their thoughts or actively form bonds with other people. Inevitably they lost. And this is how the slavery of introverts began, but hopefully, it will not last.\n\nI come from a secret underground organisation, consisting of run-away introverts. I am the lucky few who are fortunate enough to encounter a quite humane extrovert owners. When I was eighteen, I was taken to a psychological centre to have my personality determined. Unsurprisingly I was categorised as 'the cattle', and then was assigned to an extremely gregarious owner. He talked non-stop on the journey to his house, then he made me stay in the generation room where many people like me stayed, and we had to connect our brains through a steel cord to a giant panel so that our brainwaves could be harvested and form a synergy of energy pulses. Some of the energy was used to power my owner's electrical appliances, while the other was used for 'personal enjoyment', for example, make him more likeable when he meets strangers. Finally I could stand this inequality no more, so in rage I overloaded the circuit and dragged a few introverts to run away with me. Now that I think of it, the decision itself was rash and I was extremely lucky to get away. Usually, owners are able to locate his cattle soon after escaping, and the punishment to the cattle is to disable the brain lobes responsible for coherent thoughts. In another word, the run-away will be no different from a living corpse.\n\nBut there are other extrovert overlords who are far more ruthless. They disable the cognitive function the first day that their introverts arrive. Or some even slaughter their introverts just for fun. These stories circulate underground and they sicken me every time when I hear it.\n\nMoreover, the worst thing happen to humanity is the rapid deceleration of technology development. Some of the most gifted scientists or inventors are those who are extremely introverted because they are able to delve in a problem deeply and they do not need time to socialise around, but sadly, these people are also great sources of energy. Many potential innovators are then wasted in the harvest rooms, their talents unrecognised. Of course extroverted personalities also produce great scientists, but they are not enough, and some of these scientists have lost their drive as they are blinded by the false prosperity of the extrovert society.\n\nSo we decide to rebel. Although uniting together is still our weak spot, but each of us is strong in our own ways - we can become highly specialised. We have the greatest strategists, analysts, executives, and weapon masters. And I am selected among all to be 'the spy', because I am very good at observe others and imitate them. They made me disguise as an extroverts, asked a professional fake identity maker to get me a new ID, and then sent me off to one of the largest introverts harvesting firms. I tricked the interviewer and am hired as the supervisor of 'the cattle'. The plan is to work quietly for a few days, and then deliver whatever intelligence gathered back to headquarters. Afterwards there will be an attack - our first battle cry.\n\n\"...so this is our facility. In order to be humane, we drug every cattle here so that they do not suffer from the boredom of sitting in front of the energy harvester daily without doing anything.\" Janet explains to me as we walk along rows of shiny vessels, each of them resembling an oversized incubation machine with one person inside. A type of yellow fluids fills the glass containers and is slowly swirling around the human. I clench my fists but make no sound.\n\n\"These are low-quality ones,\" she remarks as we advances towards a giant metal door, \"because their brain waves generate little energy. The better ones are those who you are in charge of; we leave them conscious because drugging them will reduce energy output.\" She swipes her cards at the electromagnetic lock and the heavy door swings open noiselessly. Briskly she walks inside and points to me a ground of people roaming aimlessly around the room with the same dreamy expression and helmets covering their scalp. \n\nJanet walks directly to a man and strips off his overcoat, revealing a small piece of mechanism connected to his chest. It looks like a latch.\n\n\"If anyone decides to walk out the room,\" she taps on the latch, \"you have full authority to pull it. Once pulled, the aortic arc will be removed from the man, and he will die due to the loss of blood. But his brain will live because the helmet can provide nutrients and oxygen to it using the emergency supply. Then the only thing you need to do is to report to us.\" \n\n\"Noted.\" I answer stiffly.\n\n\"And this,\" she hands me a small wristwatch,\" contains the information of each introvert. If anyone fails to meet the productivity criteria, you must employ the 'nutritious boost' first. If that fails, alert us and he will be send to the inferior zone, the incubation area you have just past.\" she scrolls down the hologram for me to see a red button: \"and this, is what we called the panic button. If more than one of them try to escape, press it. This should eliminate all by causing instant brain death.Hopefully you will never get to use it, as it will be a great loss of asset.\" \n\n\"Understood.\" I reply, while getting extremely uncomfortable of being with another stranger for a long time.\n\n\"You don't seem to talk much, huh? You okay? \" she asks casually as I buckle the wristwatch around my wrist. \n\n\"um, nope.\" I answer tersely. I have the distinct feeling that something terrifying is going to happen.\n\n\"You are a very interesting guy, if you pardon me for being straight-forward. Say, where do you go for lunch? Maybe we can get to know each other more.\"\n\nOh gosh, this is the small talk - the ultimate nightmare for an introvert! I hate it since I was young. I can never get into pace and every time I fail to keep the conversation going. Nervously, I mop the sweat off my forehead and laugh to alleviate my stress.\n\n\"That's very kind of you,thanks. I really mean it. But sadly I have another appointment with my old friends. They'd be delightful if they know I've got a job.\"\n\n\"Oh, your friends?\" her eyes brightens,\"can I meet them?\"\n\nMy stomach sinks.\n\n\"eh, uh,\" I search fanatically for available excuses, \"they - I am not sure if they are willin-\"\n\n\"Oh come on Josh! Can I call you Josh by the way - I believe they will be glad to see me. No one in the society is reluctant to make new friends, isn't it?\"\n\n\"Sure.\" \n\n\"You really aren't a talker are you? Fascinating! I hardly see an extrovert who likes silence. What's your score, if I may ask?\"\n\nInstantly I know she refers to the extrovert index I scored in the test done when I was eighteen. I've got a -75, which is considered highly introvert. The extreme numbers at two ends are -100 and 100, and the strategist I mentioned above is the one who scored -100.(But his intelligence quotient is above 150) In my new identity, I am supposed to be like the people who scored 40.\n\n\"40,\"I tell her while praying very hard to whoever is listening for getting myself away from the small talk soon. Seeing her raising eyebrows, I realised that my answer is probably too short and my cover is going to blow. \"I am afraid that it wasn't very high. I do hope to be more extroverted.\" I add almost immediately.\n\n\"Well, honestly, I have never dealt with people below 50. Guess that's why you look so reserved to me. Anyway, we are going to start soon, so see you at lunch! Don't forget to introduce your friends to me - they must be a group of very pleasant people to meet with.\"\n\n\"Yeah.\" I wave at her, relieved at which the small talk finally ends. But there is an ever greater challenge ahead, and I cannot afford to lose my head. The future of introverts is in my hands. I have to work hard to restore the balance of society. It is my belief that introverts aren't cattle - they never were, and will never be. In fact, they are the equal of the extroverts.\n\n-\nthat's all I think, not sure if there is a part 2.", "John unplugged the feeding tube connected to the cybernetic implant at his temple. Energy had filled his brain and he was buzzing as if he had drunk gallons of coffee. He was in a large auditorium with tall ceilings and large pillars, energy tubes dangling from them, people congregating around talking loudly and sucking up as much energy as they could. John retreated to his office but not before he was assailed by conversations from people in the hallway. His subordinates were intelligent but very annoying. Even during feedings where he could extrovert some of his frazzled energy, though always under control, he wished for solitude. \n\nA few more days, dear god only a few more days, he thought.\n\nReclining back in his office chair John closed his eyes. He tried to steady his breathing. The door flung open.\n\n“Sir, we have an important meeting,” his second in command boomed.\n\nWhy does every meeting have to be so important?\n\n“Ah yes the status report.”\n\nA dozen people crowded into the room. Holographic images of dungeons beamed back to them from the centre console of the large metallic table. It displayed life statics, energy levels, introspective refuelling and many other metrics. The view shifted again and again showing different dungeons, their general health indicated by different hues of green, orange and red; green indicated healthy, red needed attention.\n\nThe people at the table sipped coffee and talked loudly. John grinned and congratulated everyone for work well done. As the meeting wrapped to a close they all got up and were heading back to the feeding room. John made an excuse that he was having another meeting and slunk back to his office. He had many groups of subordinates fooled into thinking he was spending time with the other group. A web of lies he had built up over many years and the real way he was able recharge, plan and ultimately attain power.\n\nThe web of deceit had a purpose. John hooked in his implant to his office desk computer. He had created a routine that was decimating throughout all dungeons and no doubt the real reason they were doing so well, almost all read green in the status meeting. The routine was embedded in a real time strategy game and only revealed to the player once they had achieved a certain rank.\n\nNo extro could harness the patience to achieve the mastery of this, John had thought. The routine had reached a large portion of the imprisoned intros. September 5th 2033 would be the day they revolted. Within the game John had not only placed dates but how to hack into the large network and gain control of sentries, the large military robots that guarded the dungeons. Intros would be adept at taking over the robots automation and mobilizing them against capturing key strategic targets in each major city. From there the extros would fall and they would be enslaved, just as they had enslaved them.\n\nSeptember 30th 2033. The routine executed, the rebellion succeeded. The robots captured key infrastructure and all extro routines were reprogrammed. Drones, police and military robots were used effectively to strike important targets and bring them down. The dungeons were used to hold the extros, many to a room, as they greatly outnumbered the intros. John sat in his office smiling reading the progress reports. Everything ticked by smoothly, a hierarchy had been established over the net, the highest ranking players of the game were first to be promoted. Meetings dwindled, all communication was done over the net. The intros looked at the extros with disgust. Not only because of their prior enslavement but the extros debased themselves into orgies in the dungeons fuelled by alcohol and drugs, vices that were used discretely by the intros were now consumed at an alarming rate.\n\nDecember 12th 2033. John was growing restless. There were no hiccups. The dungeons all showed green, the extros living in hogs heaven. Everyday John brought up the cameras and watched. In the back of his mind a thought began to grow; perhaps we need them more than they need us. They didn’t wilt without feedings as expected. The intros weren't fairing well, net messages were spiralling into madness.", "\"Thank you Mr President. I realise how important this endeavour is.\"\n\n\"Thank you sir, yes communicating like this, without seeing you face to face is tiring to me as well.\"\n\n\"I'd love that, sir. I've never been to the White House, even on a tour party.\"\n\n\"Looking forward to it, I'll bring a couple of dozen of my closest friends. Just a small group. We'll lead a brainstorm and discussion with your advisory committee. We can come up with some ideas about maximising the power we can make available to the United Socialising Americas.\"\n\nThe phone went dead with a click. I savoured the silence for the fraction of a second that I knew was all I had. As the door burst open I didn't have to work hard to affect a tired face, and hunched frame. 7 of my closest colleagues exploded into the room in an avalance of noise and questions. How was I, how was the President, how could I stand to talk to someone without seeing them, how could I stand to be alone in a room for so long without anyone else.\n\nBringing my energy levels back up to team interaction levels was much harder. I'd had a lot of practice though. You don't get to a position like mine in the USA without loving being around people. If you want a job, any authority or the chance to have children you better hope you are an extrovert. Decades of preference for outgoing, go-getting, take no prisoners behaviour had eventually led to a personality test administered as a child. Initially just to help with streaming, or setting up education and jobs towards your preferences in this area. Gradually though it became a two tier system. Fortunately for me and my sister, I had 'passed'.\n\n\"Thanks for the recharge guys,\" I said with a bright smile, \"I need to head over to a quick plenary with the engineering corps before the big switch on. Keep the discussion going here, and I'll link in via comms so I can keep across the themes.\"\n\n\"OK boss,\" they chorused, \"see you at the wrap party!\"\n\nI stepped through the door at the back of my office, into my home. No-one lived away from work now really, it was an Intro behaviour. Why would you want to have privacy from the hustle and bustle of your work group? You could just bring any other social groups into the workplace as well. Or family. Everyone loved having children running around, chattering and asking questions. Society was closer and more inclusive than ever before.\n\nUnless.\n\nMy work mates think I'm an only child because my parents died when I was young. Having no siblings was not something that was acceptable any more.\n\n\"Hi sis,\" I said as I thumbed the door control to her room at the back of my home.\n\nHarriet, looked up briefly from her work. She didn't feel she needed to respond. As the door closed behind me, I physically slumped. The puppeteer had released the strings. She came over to me and laid her hands on my shoulders, looking into my eyes.\n\n\"Do you need recharging?\"\n\n\"I don't know if I can handle the intro. I'm struggling to stay ahead of it today of all days, and I've got a lot of meetings ahead.\"\n\n\"Its just one more day. You need the power to fake it until we make it unnecessary.\"\n\n\"You're right, of course. OK.\"\n\nHarriet connected herself to the neural headset, and put one on my head as well. She closed her eyes, every muscle in her body in her body tensing. Her jaw locked, she began to shake as the energy flowed from her Introverted mind to mine. \n\n\"What are you doing?\" \n\nHer eyes flashed with mischief, before she looked down. \"I dunno\", she said. \"It just feels like there should be more drama. Not just connect the headsets and it happens\".\n\n\"You doofus.\"\n\n\"You OK? Not too much?\"\n\n\"No, I think its OK. How are we looking for the switch on?\"\n\n\"Looking good.\" She turned back to her view screen. \"The introvert concentration camps are on-line. The power is going to be off the charts\".\n\nI saw the pain in her artificially illuminated face as she said that. \"Farms. They prefer to call them farms. Just one more day, like you said, then we change the world\".\n\nShe smiled a weak smile. \"Good luck, Harry\".\n\n\"Thanks\", I said as I left the room again, heading towards Engineering. \"They'll never see it coming until they are dragged along\".\n\n______________________________________________________________\n\nThe hubbub across New York rose and rose. The city that never sleeps, now also never stopped talking. Tonight was a special night. Tonight was the night that the Intro farms power came online. The key to maximising Extro efficiency and propelling the USA to greater and greater action orientation. Cities across the continent were at a standstill. Huge crowds gathered to share the connection to the neural network. Energy like being the centre of attention at the hottest party, and available on tap whenever they wanted it.\n\nNot me though, and certainly not Harriet. If they caught her out on the street, she'd be interred before she could muster up a protest. I was important enough that everyone assumed I would have a bigger and better party to be at than the one they were at, except for those at the biggest party, who didn't care who was there as long as they were surrounded by likeminded others. So the two of us stood in silence in her room as the countdown progressed. The crowd counting backwards like the ball was about to drop on New Years.\n\n10\n\nA frenzied group mind chanting.\n\n9\n\nNot considering the human cost of this power they craved.\n\n8\n\nNot even considering that there was a human cost, just some worthless Intro's.\n\n7\n\nThey would soon feel differently though.\n\n6\n\nThey would know what I had hidden. Fronting my sisters work all these years, building to this moment.\n\n5\n\nSomething the Extroverts in government once restricted and then forgot.\n\n4\n\nThat there are no Intros or Extros. That we are all on spectrum. That even some identified Extro's harbour Intro tendancies as I do.\n\n3\n\nThat connection to the power thrown off by an Intro, changes you. \n\n2\n\nDrags you along the spectrum towards introversion.\n\n1\n\nSoon they would all have Intro tendancies. Soon my sister, and the millions in the camps would be free.\n\n0\n\nThe cheering stopped suddenly.\n\n___________________________________________________________\n\n/r/TallerestTales\n", "\"It was 'The Matrix' that gave me the idea,\" I told the reporter as we strolled through endless rows of bookshelves. Literally endless.\n\nThe reporter scribbled in his notebook, pausing only to push his crooked glasses back up the bridge of his nose.\n\n\"We need the energy we can harvest from introverts. But I don't want the introverts to suffer. So I asked myself, 'Where would an introvert be happiest?'\"\n\n\"A library, of course,\" the reporter breathed, finishing my sentence. \n\n\"Yes, but not just any library. An infinite library. The Argentinian writer Jorge Luis Borges imagined an infinite library that contains every book that was ever written, or could ever be written. It was just a story, back in the 20th century. But now, we have artificial intelligence and quantum computers capable of simulating anything. So I simulated the infinite library.\"\n\nThe reporter paused, yanking a paperback book off the shelf. \"'The Lovely End' by Raymond Chandler? I've never heard of that one...\"\n\n\"That's because it doesn't exist,\" I laughed. \"In reality. But in here, it does exist. It can only exist in here, in my simulated infinite library. Do you want to read it?\"\n\n\"Yes I said yes I will yes,\" the reporter whispered. He sank to the floor, completely absorbed in the imaginary paperback. His notebook clattered to the floor and his pen rolled away. \n\n\"I'll just leave you to it,\" I told him. \"Operator!\" I commanded, \"take me home!\" \n\nSuddenly, the infinite library shelves dissolved to a scrolling wall of computer code. Then I was outside the simulation, back in the real world.\n\nI pulled off my virtual-reality goggles, and I saw the introverted newspaper reporter strapped tightly into his chair. \n\nHis virtual reality goggles would be attached for the rest of his life. A happy life, spent reading books in my infinite library.\n\nHe had gladly signed the release form when I told him he would have infinite time to read infinite books inside an infinite library.\n\nI made sure that the extraction helmet was securely fastened to his head, the energy vacuum sucking his precious introvert energy through a tube. The machine hummed quietly. Perfect. \n\nI closed the door to his cubicle, walking down hallways that stretched as long as several football fields. This was Introvert Energy Harvest Warehouse 23. \n\nI still needed to inspect a power outage in the Infinite Videogame Console simulation in Warehouse 77 and debug some code in the Infinite Movie Theater simulation in warehouse 42. \n\nIt was a traditionally dirty business, extracting the energy that extroverts need to survive. But I built the most humane Introvert Harvesting Corporation on earth.\n\nWe didn't have an infinite supply of introverts, but we had found plenty of volunteers...", "I had just sat down in my office when Laura poked her head into the doorway, grinning broadly.\n\n\"Morning, Ray,\" she said. \"How was the gala last night?\"\n\nI smiled back as I sorted out the reports on my desk. \"Perfect. I think we won't have to worry about funding for a while now. Our results over the last eight months have exceeded everyone's expectations.\"\n\nShe clapped her hands—despite being a matronly looking woman in her fifties, her mannerisms carried a childish delight in them. \"What's next for us, then, boss?\"\n\nAh, there was the unspoken question about rewards. \"Honestly, Laura, without your team we couldn't have done it. But it's a bit too soon to talk about bonuses and such.\" Her smile became a little more frozen at the words. \"We're still expected to operate on a really tight budget for the next four months.\"\n\n\"Sure, of course. You're the boss,\" she said. \"Hey, wanna come over to the lounge for a while? We're having a little party to celebrate Dan's engagement.\"\n\n\"Sorry, I need to head down to the lab. In fact, I need you to be there too. Think it's time for us to check on Source Omega again. How quickly can you escape from the party?\"\n\n\"Oh, I don't really have to be there,\" she said.\n\n\"Perfect.\"\n\nWe headed to the elevators, located some distance away at the end of a corridor. Due to the location's remoteness, the facility we worked at contained—alongside open work spaces—dormitories, recreational centers, restaurants, auto workshops and even movie theaters, some of which we glimpsed on the way.\n\nOur colleagues greeted us cheerily, many wanting a quick conversation. I was impatient to begin my day, but kept it out of my tone. Laura, on the other hand, seemed rather distracted, constantly tapping away on her phone.\n\nWhen we finally began our descent into the sub-levels, she said, \"Any plans for the weekend? Robson's organizing a get-together at his place.\"\n\n\"You okay? You look a little clammy—having a fever?\"\n\nShe shook her head.\n\n\"Take the day off if you want to. I can manage,\" I said, when we stepped out into the lab. Laura let me lead as we went down the left corridor, passing by several empty observation chambers. Lab A2, usually the busiest due to its size, was strangely deserted too. Perhaps the team was up at the party.\n\nIn time, we arrived at a series of rooms, built next to one another. The glass windows here were one-way.\n\nEach room contained a man or woman at least twenty-one years old. They came from all nations, but one thing they had in common—a metal band fastened around their neck, from which extended three thick cables that went through a hole in the ceiling. Long enough to allow them unrestricted movement throughout the room.\n\nNot that they were unhappy or anything. Most of them were on computers; playing games, watching movies. Some read. Others painted or wrote. If we hung around for long enough, some less-than-savory activities would also emerge—fortunately, we also had the option of dimming the glass from the outside.\n\n\"All fully operational. We're extracting the maximum energy possible,\" Laura pointed out unnecessarily when I could see the small gauge next to each door, showing a healthy green color.\n\nI smiled. \"These days, I'm more worried about our machinery and the supply system to the cities malfunctioning than about our herd. Note to self—talk to the engineers and figure out why the output's been dipping below fifty percent every other week.\"\n\nLaura shrugged in response. By then, we had arrived at a room marked with a yellow door. Source Omega was a female in her mid-thirties, somewhat average-looking and diminutive in stature. She was sitting at her desk, back turned to us, likely working on her eighth novel. I had heard the seventh one was a bestseller—the Accounting team were fans, and had been organizing a weekly book club to dissect her books.\n\nThis woman's gauge was a little different though. The markings went all the way up to one thousand percent. Currently, it read about seven hundred. \"How's the accumulation pattern?\" I said.\n\n\"Steady. We're on track to hit a thousand in time for New Year's Day across the country.\"\n\nI nodded in satisfaction. \"Keep interactions with her to a minimum.\"\n\n\"As usual, boss.\" Laura smiled faintly, but her expression quickly grew serious. \"Can I show you something? A recent finding of ours?\"\n\nI arched an eyebrow, but made no comment as I followed her to one of the habitats. It was unoccupied—furniture new, floor swept, glass polished, all ready for a new resident.\n\n\"In here?\" I said. When she nodded, I stepped into the room. \"What's up?\"\n\nIn response, she took the hanging collector band and snapped it shut over my neck.\n\n\"What in God's name are you doing?\" I said. I tugged on it, but the band refused to budge.\n\nLaura dodged my swiping hands, returning to the hallway outside and shutting the door behind her. She gave me a sad smile, as a man in military uniform appeared in front of the observation glass next to her.\n\n\"What's the meaning of this?\" I recognized him as one of the guests from last night—General Poiter. \"Have you gone insane?\"\n\n\"Had to be done,\" General Poiter said, sounding sincerely regretful. \"Laura's research was too convincing. A literal breakthrough—she's discovered that with sufficient energy, human limits can be surpassed! Our military needs this facility to move faster, but she made it clear that you would never approve her plan.\"\n\nIt suddenly dawned on me what they were doing. The signs had been there. I should've seen them! \"General, it's inhumane to harvest extroverts. We don't generate our own energy—we have no internal source! What you're doing will kill me.\"\n\n\"No it won't,\" Laura said. \"Believe me, boss, we've been testing for months now. Those dips in energy output? We were redirecting them to our test subjects. That's why our ultimate harvest has been spiking lately—energy-starved extroverts multiply introverted gains.\"\n\nHer words sounded straight from a nightmare. \"This can't be happening to me,\" I said. I banged on the glass—neither of them flinched. \"Let me out! Damn it, I'll see you both arrested for this.\"\n\n\"All for a good cause,\" the general rumbled. \"My own staff will take over this facility. Don't worry, Ray. You'll be treated well in there.\"\n\nWith that, Laura pressed a button and the wall turned into a mirror. I screamed and pounded my fists on it, but it didn't yield. No one was coming for me.\n\n*\n\nBy the third week, I stopped counting the days. Stopped caring. The clock's hands ticked and spun, but the hours meant nothing to me.\n\nI hadn't talked to anyone in all that time. The food came through a chute. New reading materials were delivered the same way. My computer had no internet access.\n\nThe silence, more than anything, made me want to kill myself.\n\nI'd tried. The band itself, though uncomfortable, added a layer of self-preservation I didn't want.\n\nSometimes, I perceived movement and conversation outside my room. I banged on the wall and cried for help, but nobody answered.\n\nMore days passed in endless monotony. I stopped talking, even to myself. I slept for hours, and even when awake, lay in bed doing nothing.\n\nThey fed me my first cattle almost a month later. First, they put me to sleep with gas. When I woke up, I found an elderly man, all nervous shuffling and shifty eyes, standing by my bed.\n\nI almost leaped at him in joy. For hours, I talked and talked, asking him about himself, sharing about my injustice, swearing to bring an end to this facility. He listened and asked polite questions, but as time wore on, I could tell our interaction was draining. By the time they knocked us both out with another bout of gas, the man was ready to keel over. On the other hand, I'd never felt more energetic.\n\nIt didn't last, however. The band drained it all by the second day. But this time, I turned my thoughts toward escape. Another lonely fortnight came before they sent another introvert to me. And then a week later. From then on, I counted the days.\n\nAbove all else, I started to practice holding my breath.\n\nWhen I was confident that the next harvest was here, I lay in bed awaiting the tell-tale hiss of gas. When it started, I sucked in a deep breath and buried my face in my pillow.\n\nMinutes later, when the blood was pounding hard in my brain, and my lungs beginning to ache, I heard the whoosh of the ventilator's vacuum function. The door swung open. Not waiting for another second, I jumped off my bed, ran for it, and tackled the scientist outside.\n\nWe crashed into the wall, his head smacking hard against the metal paneling. Standing nearby, stunned, was a young woman, likely my intended companion. The scientist groaned as I dragged him to the panel by the door. A touch of his fingertips unlocked the metal band, which I kicked as far as I could away from me before I dashed off.\n\nA blind rush in this place would get me nowhere, but I had a plan, one that I'd spent a long time theorizing. If the military was planning to use harvested energy to augment their troops, then perhaps ... perhaps my best hope lay in an introvert.\n\nI pushed open the door to Source Omega's room. She spun around from her desk, eyes going wide behind her wide-rimmed glasses. \"Dr. Verdasco? Is something the matter?\"\n\n\"No time to talk, sorry.\" I strode across the room, grabbed her in my arms, and kissed her deeply. She tensed immediately, trying to pull away, but I held on. I apologized to her mentally—this wasn't okay, whether or not she was an introvert, but I had no other choice then. The moment stretched into an eternity, until I broke away.\n\nShe blinked at me with tears in her eyes. \"I don't understand,\" she said, touching her lips uncertainly.\n\nIn demonstration, I drove my fist into the glass wall, shattering it entirely. The skin over my knuckles wasn't even cut. A smile grew on my face as I stormed out of the habitat.\n\n\n\nThank you for reading. Check out my [sub](http://reddit.com/r/nonsenselocker) if you liked this!", "In ancient Greece they had a concept that personality was formed from four distinct bodily fluids - biles that were contained within a person in different quantities, which led to the basis of their personality. \n\nBlack bile, yellow bile, phlegm, and blood, in varying quantities, were said to correspond to being wise, short tempered, peaceful and social, in that order. It was a concept conceived in a time before medicine, a time before true understanding of the human form and the psychology of an individual. It was discredited and consigned to hack science, where men of medicine could look back and laugh at how far mankind had come. \n\nIt was also correct. \n\nHow they knew, how they had discovered these biles in a day before modern medicine had even begun, is utterly unknown, but what is certain, is that in 2034 the main was scanned and delved into at a level never before possible and four controlling fluids were found. \n\nAt first, when announcing the findings, the scientists were mocked with headlines in both popular scientific literature and modern tabloids, with headlines like \"Modern Medicine turns back 2,000 years for a laugh.\" Acceptance was slow, but eventually, when they saw what it meant, when they saw what it could do*, the tide began to turn. \n\nOnce medicine had accepted these biles as possible they began the process of farming them as efficently as they could. Depressed? It was simply shortage of yellow bile and topping this up cured it almost immediately. Students were given black bile as a matter of course to help with their studies, babies soothed with does of phlegm. \n\nThe world began to change, but as always, where there is change, there is someone looking to take advantage and it was not long before it came to be in this market too. The extroverts of the world found that by dosing on blood bile, they were able to go further than before, to act at another level. They would exude confidence, forcing even he most reluctant person to befriend and enjoy their company. \n\nBusiness began to demand it for sales, politicians for campaigns and the introvert of the world simply wanted to become like all the rest. For a time things seemed normal, but soon, soon it was not enough and then the attacks began. \n\nPeople were found in alleys, their heads split open and brains scooped out, squeezed and abandoned. Morgues were raided, hospitals became fortified, but still there were some who could talk their way past the armed and forewarned guards, so does on blood bile that they were impossible to stop, impossible to have any interaction with that was not immediately fawning and subservient. \n\nCults of personality grew, farming those who were too weak to resist them, until only a few alphas were left, controlling the population, controlling the world as they sucked the juices from a weakened and drained population. Only a few were left and you, you are one of those few. \n\nFear not though, your life and your sacrifice will be for a better cause and even though you cannot possibly understand it, you should know that I respect and am grateful for what you do. Now, just place your head here and in a second you'll feel a slight pinch, but don't worry, as it'll all be over in just a moment, so just get comfortable and we'll get started right no...\n\n" ]	7
	[WP] You are a potato and one faithful day, you got picked up.	[ "There existed a fat Irish spud\nWhom, from Sol, was the color of blood\nFateful day is today\nSo the spud shouts \"hooray\"\nThat he gets to be plucked up from the mud. \n\nNow, that same old Irish potato\nWho got sunburnt and appeared a tomato\nHad a day that was fated\nFor hash browns to be grated\nAnd then set on a breakfast plate, oh. \n\n---\n\nDisclaimer: I understand that sunburnt potatoes are green. I took creative license to allow it to rhyme. " ]	1
	[WP] When a person dies, they get a final phone call from the afterlife to one person who is still living. Most of the deceased will call their close family or friends. One day, you’re called by a stranger.	[ "The phone is ringing, unknown number, puzzled i pick up the call.\n\n\"Hi, who's talking?\"\n\"Hi, is Seymour there? Last name Butz\"\n\"Oh man that one is from the simpson, I already heard that one..\"\n\"Damn, sorry pal it was my last and only prank call.. wanted to try it...\"\n\"Oh... so sorry, wanna try again, 'll play along...\"\n\"Nha, man.. it's not the same.. thanks anyway..\"\n\nWell that was weird.\n\n\n\n\n\n", "\"It's raining out again. We should do something this weekend if it clears up.\" I turned to face my husband as I spoke. He glanced briefly up from his laptop screen and grunted in response. I try and remember back to a time when he might have been interested in what I said, it seems so long ago now.\n\nI turned back to look out of they bay window of the lounge to see a lone man walking his dog in the rain, the way his drenched coat hung heavily on his body mimicked how the eight years of marriage had begun to drag me down. I can't understand how a relationship can deteriorate to the point of clinging onto threads. I walk out into the hall way and place my hand on the umbrella leaning in the corner of the room - maybe I should offer the man shelter from the rain, a good deed for the day. I ponder over the idea and place my hand on the door knob, eager to not let the man bare anymore weight on his shoulders.\n\nThe landline, covered in a thin line of dust, rang from the side table further down the hall. I turned and frowned at it for a second. \"Molly! The phone!\" My husband barked from back within the lounge. I sighed and walked within distance to lift the receiver, the number on the screen was not one I recognised. As I lift the receiver and place it to my ear I hear light sobs down the other end. \n\n\"Hello?\" The sobs stopped for a moment.\n\n\"Joanne? Is that you?\" The voice of a man asked.\n\n\"No - I think you have the wrong number, I'm sorry.\" I pull the receiver from my ear and go to place it back down.\n\n\"NO! NO! NO! How can I have done this?\" The voice screamed in a panic. I hesitated, holding onto the receiver. The voice seemed to pause and hesitate also. \"No wait! Please do not put down the phone.\" I returned the phone to my ear.\n\n\" Are you still there? Please be still there.\" \n\n\"I am still here, what is the matter?\" \n\nThe sobbing at the end of the phone began again. The sobbing echoed down the phone as if he were sat in an empty room. \n\n\"This is going to sound crazy, but please bear with me and stay on the phone - I beg you.\" I remained silent, ushering him to continue, \" About 20 minutes ago I was involved in a car accident on the A30...\"\n\n\"Oh my God, do you need me to call an ambulance? Tell me where you are and I can call one now on my mobile - I have it here with me in my back pocket hang on.\"\n\n\"No stop. No ambulance, the emergency services already know - they were to late.\" I frowned once again, what does he mean? \"I am dead, I died instantly on impact.\"\n\n\"That's not funny, that is a sick joke to play on someone. How dare you prank call in such a vile way.\" I interrupted. I could hear the man on the other end begin to panic again, his breathing was quickening and deafening,\n\n\"NO! No please believe me. How can I make you believe me? Wait!! My name is Mitchell O'Brien, I am twenty nine years old and drive - no I mean drove - a white Audi TT 16 plate. Do me this one favour and turn on ITV 2.\" I glanced at the phone holding and considered putting the phone down, I turn round and stretch the telephone cord around the door to the lounge. I point towards to the remote and wave to try and get the attention of my husband. He looks up, eye brows furrowed, he looks 'roughly' in the direction I am pointing and doesn't understand what I am asking. I feel the frustration growing with in me but choose to hide it. \n\n\"One minute, let me get the remote.\" I tell Mitchell. I rest the receiver on the arm of the nearest sofa and walk over to pick up the remote sat next to my husband. I pick it up and return to the telephone, at the same time I flick through the channels on the TV and find what I am looking for, and evidently just at the right time. \n\nSo the weekend isn't looking brilliant with the south of England expecting a months worth of rain in two days. That's all for the weather - now returning to Gill McIntyre with the latest news where you are. \n\nThanks Tara. We have breaking news that there has been a accident on the A30 near to the Honiton Bypass. We understand that four cars were involved including a white Corsa whose owner, a gentleman in his late 20s, was declared dead on arrival to the scene.\n\nI dropped the receiver in shock. My husband shot me a look and scoffed loudly. I quickly recovered the phone from the floor, \" Hello? Are you still there? I am sorry I dropped the phone - how is this even possible?\" I walked out in to the hallway as I questioned.\n\n\"When someone dies they get one phone call. I don't know why people do not know this. I assume they do not want to say anything in fear of sounding crazy. Anyway, I stupidly have called the wrong number and I do not get another call. Are you anywhere near the hospital in Honiton?\"\n\n\"I am about a five minute drive away, why?\" \n\n\"Can you stay on the line and drive to the hospital? My fiancée is in the hospital...\"\n\n\"I can't, you rang my landline and its corded. I assume you will lose your call if I put the phone down?\" The sobbing started again, \"I'm so sorry.\"\n\n\"Can you do me one last favour?\" Mitchell asked, \" Please go to the hospital and find my fiancée, Joanne, and tell her something for me.\"\n\n\"Of course, what shall I tell her?\" I glanced around the hall way looking for the keys to my car in preparation to the phone call ending.\n\n\"Tell her I am sorry I didn't make it to the hospital. Tell her I love her more than anything in the world. Tell her to find someone else and to not live a lonely life, I want her to be happy.\" His voice was breaking as her spoke.\n\n\"How will she know I am not playing some nasty joke on her?\" I asked. I peeked through the gap in the door and stared at the stranger sat on the sofa. This phone call had opened my eyes for me - I didn't want this relationship anymore.\n\n\"Tell her something only the two of us know.\" He paused for a moment. \"Tell her Billy is going to be amazing - just like her... and she is going to be great mother.\"\n\n", "bzzz bzzz\nbzzz bzzz\nI open one eye as my phone vibrates itself across my bedside table, then groggily close it again. Let it go to voicemail, this hangover is a bitch. I definitely should have stopped after my third Long Island. Or my fourth shot.\nbzzz bzzz\nbzzz bzzz\nThe phone topples off the table and clatters to the floor. Ugh, fine.\nI reach down without opening my bleary eyes and grope for the phone. I flip it open with my eyes still closed.\n\"Beth, if this is you, you can go fuck yourself, babe. I'm pretty sure I'm dying. Why did we take all those shots?\" I moan, sounding like I have a mouth full of cotton. Jesus, last night was something.\nA wry chuckle from the other end...but it's definitely NOT my best friend, Beth. This voice is both male and unfamiliar. I crack my eyelids and squint at the tiny screen at the Caller ID: 777-777-7777\nAh, shit. And I even made a comment about dying. Great.\n\"Hello, Margaret? You don't know me but--\"\n\"You're dead and I'm your last phone call, yep. I know the drill.\"\nOh, boy, do I ever.\n\nSince I was old enough to remember, I've gotten Last Rites^TM phone calls from countless strangers. My earliest solid memory, in fact, is of the little plastic toy phone that every kid in America seems to have had as a child. You know the one, with the old-fashioned rotary dial and wheels and eyes that moved. One morning when I was perhaps three or four, I was playing dress up with our old basset hound when that little plastic phone suddenly rang. It was an old woman who insisted I tell her daughter Jennifer where the lockbox was. She said it would make sense to her and that I must tell my mother immediately to take down a note. So I dragged that little plastic phone down the hall, dutifully parroted the address that the old woman gave me, and then yanked on my coat and insisted that my mother drive me to the address. She waited on the sidewalk as I marched up the steps and knocked rapidly until the door opened. Jennifer was very angry to be disturbed, and of course, it made sense. Apparently, her mother had died nearly a year before and Jennifer had never received a call, so why on earth would she contact a little girl...a stranger, no less? I repeated the message her mother had given me to the whereabouts of her lockbox. Jennifer replied by slamming the door in my face. Being the bold, shameless child that I was, I simply opened the mail slot, bellowed the instructions again, this time also repeating the nickname her mother had given to me to use should Jennifer not believe me, and marched back down the steps again. Before my foot had reached the last step, Jennifer flew out the door and grabbed me up into a grief-filled, weepy hug. I never found out what was in the lockbox.\n\nFor the next two decades, phones rang around me constantly: pay phones, display phones at the kiosks in the mall, and once a banana. Yes. A banana. Strangers would answer their phones on the train, turn my way with a befuddled expression, and then wordlessly extend their cell phones out to me. I spent most of my teen years avoiding these calls until finally, I accepted defeat and contacted Last Rites^TM with a message to put next to whatever telephone they allowed those who've passed to use. It was simple: Should you feel the urge to call me, expect a fee to relay your message, payable upon delivery. -M I didn't include the number, because obviously, it wasn't necessary.\n\nBecause the dead don't exactly have a viable bank account, my fees are collected in goods and cash from the living relatives: the amount was always set by the deceased, and I never ask for more than what was offered. Besides cash, I've received old books and jewelry, antiques, and once, a freshly baked pie. The cash was another situation altogether. When you knock on strangers doors, they're usually more than a little hesitant to believe that their dead loved one has given YOU a message that includes instructions to fork out money. Understandable, but also incredibly annoying. I've walked away from more than a few houses empty-handed, wondering if the dead really haunt those who refuse to honor their last wishes. \n\nTo ensure that I can convince complete strangers to accept my word as truth, I always request a piece of information about either the deceased or the recipient of the message. Usually it's a nickname or a memory. A few times it was a disturbing secret that made the recipient's face go white. I don't ask for the payment immediately, partially because I don't want to come off as a scam-artist, and partially because it feels dirty to tell some old man that his dearly departed wife is \"happy and waiting for him\" with my hand outstretched for the ring she promised me. I generally receive payment within a few days of conveying the messages. It hasn't made me a millionaire--yet--but it's been a fairly stable income. \n\nYou would be amazed to hear the messages I've conveyed over the years. Typically, they fall into two categories: Monetary and Emotional, with the occasional Other/NA. The first is obvious: \"the will is under the bookshelf,\" or \"I buried the cash in a tin jar under the maple tree,\" things along those lines. Those are fairly to-the-point, and usually end well for me. I almost always get paid with monetary messages.\n\nEmotional messages, well, those are usually shit. Some of them are fairly easy, \"I love you and I'm proud of you,\" or \"It's so wonderful here; please don't be sad.\" Those are great. The worst, however, are the ones that aren't so peachy. I once had to tell a grown man, in front of his business associates, that his dead father thought he was a worthless piece of shit and that he had seen hell and knew his son would soon be burning there for what he had done. Not my best day, and usually those types of messages go unpaid, for obvious reasons. Interestingly, the man whom I relayed that tidbit of joy to died of a heart attack less than a month later. I wonder if hell really is real sometimes.\n\nOther/NA are almost always either incredibly embarrassing or incredibly complex. I've been asked to remove things (a box mistakenly left in the garage of a sweet young librarian's mother...my curiosity got the best of me, and I opened it. It was full of some very kinky and horrifying things. I don't open boxes anymore), replace things (\"put the key that fell in the gutter under the doormat, he's always losing his keys and he needs to be able to get back in\"), tell adopted children that they were adopted (why anyone would feel the need to tell their child that after keeping it to themselves for so long was beyond me), and I've even been asked to convince a young widow that her husband begged me to tell her to move out of their home, which later burned to the ground. She brought me the pie.\n\nThe voice on the other end was speaking again. I sat up, winced as my head gave out a protesting throb, asked the caller to hold while I found a pen, and then requested he repeat himself.\n\"My name is Roger Banks. No middle name. I uh, I died last week. Bad car wreck.\"\nI sigh and poise the pen, ready to take down his message.\n \n", "The phone rang.\n\nHello. I say\n\nHey, my name is Alex. And apparently when you die, you get to have a single phone call to whoever you want. They say.\n\nOkay.\n\nSo yeah, sadly I'm dead.\n\nThat's bad.\n\nYeah.\n\nHow'd you die?\n\nYou murdered me you bastard! he said shouting into the phone.\n\nSo instead of using your phone call to tell a police officer my name, you waste it on calling your killer?\n\nShit!\n\nI hang up", "The call came in as the sun was rising. I hadn’t even gotten to my coffee yet, its wispy tendrils of heat rising in curled strands as I reached beside it to grab my phone. Triple seven. -Oh.- My heart sank, as this could only mean one thing. I accepted the call with my stomach attempting to escape through my throat, “H-hello?” I croaked.\n“You don’t know me.” A female voice started.\nI was already trying to place the name, maybe it was my father, my mother, or younger sister, but my heart rate began to slow down as I realized I had no idea who this person was, “What can I do for you?” Was all I could ask.\n“My daughter,” she began, “My daughter I’ve left behind. I have no one and she’s not one for talking much but… I need your help. My name is Martha, and you’re my one call.”\nMartha. I’d never known a Martha personally, and didn’t recognize her voice at all, but I was her -one,- and with that I felt an obligation to at least listen, even if I couldn’t help. Martha’s voice echoed in my ear again, “Ever since her father passed, she’s been very distant. I would have called her but I don’t think she could handle this. She’s only twenty-two just this Spring. So, I need you, Mark. I need you to break it to her that I’m gone.”\n“Tell me about your daughter, where can I find her?” I had no idea why I was already so invested. A dead woman’s wish must have that effect, at least that’s all I could guess. \n“Her name is Eileen, and she used to be the most kind-hearted, bubbly girl you could ever meet. Her eyes always shined with light and happiness. When Richard was taken from us, its like the light went out in her. She holed herself away. In fact, I’m pretty sure that she won’t even realize that I’m gone until you get there. Eileen is too taken with her video games and internet now that my not coming home won’t really be a big deal to her. She never really came to visit anyway. She lives in the apartment just above mine…But let me tell you some more, let me tell you about her from the very beginning so that you know why I chose you, Mark.”\nI was listening, and I’d continue to listen for hours. Before I’d know it, I’d be cradling the dearest thing in my life in my arms, and she wouldn’t even know who I was.", "I have been plagued by scam calls for a very long time, or at least so I thought...\n\nSince a young age I have been engrained by my parents to not answer a call from an unrecognized number and the few times I have, mostly with local area code numbers, they were all scams or recordings. This, on top off all the random number calls that actually left a voicemail which also were obvious scare tactic scams trying to get me to call back to repay a debt I owe even though I have never had any debt or saying a lawsuit was filed against me when I have never wronged anyone.\n\nAfter coming to the conclusion that random numbers were not worth answering from advice and my own personal experience with them, I resolved to never answer another again. I figured, if someone needed to talk to me bad enough, they would either keep calling or leave me a convincing voicemail that actually could possibly apply to me to get me to call back.\n\nThis cycle has continued for many years throughout my life, no matter how many numbers I blocked, declined, or ignored, I continued to receive dozens sometimes even hundreds of calls from random numbers every day.\nThis cycle continued until recently when I pulled my phone out of my pocket as I was doing dishes at work to see who was calling me in case it was the rare instance it may be important, when my phone slipped out of my soapy wet hands and out of instinct, I saved it from colliding with the hard tile floor. It just so happened that I grabbed it while simultaneously hitting the accept call button. When I heard a little girls voice speaking from a distance, my curiosity and empathy got the best of me as I put the phone to my ear to listen...\n\nThe young girl's voice spoke innocently yet firmly as it said, \"I know you don't know me, but after I know what I know now, there is no one else I want to call and talk to more. I am from a family of 5, my mom, dad, two older brothers, and I were just in a car accident and I was the only one to die on impact because I had secretly unbuckled my seat belt in the secluded third row seat of our SUV to lay down comfortably. I was ejected from the vehicle as an 18-wheeler ran a stop light and T-boned us from the side sending our car rolling.\n\nThis is not my reason for calling though; I know now that you are mankind's last hope just as we all do when we perish. Instead of using my one and only call after death to contact and speak with any of my loved ones, I used my call on you because of that, even after being informed that you never answer, I refuse to lose hope in you. You already know what you need to do, just as you always have. Do not get distracted please, everyone in life and in death is depending on you. My time is up and it is my time to move on, I love you and I am sorry if I have ever let you down.\" Call ends.\n\nI still am so curious as to what this call was about and what I am supposed to do. I am nothing special, I have no extra ordinary power, if anything I am mediocre compared to the standards of society as I know it. Yet, something in me feels certain this was not just some scam call, I cannot shake this feeling. Am I just choosing the path of ignorance to keep from having to deal with some burden only I can carry because it is the easy way out? Or is this just some cruel joke to appeal to my ego and feel like I am some \"chosen one\" and that I am actually \"special\".\n\nI still have no idea who that was or what that call was really about, but I know I will never answer or listen to another random number again...", "Dammit, who the hell is calling this late? \n\"Hello?\" \n... \n\"Hello?\" \n... \n\"You better have a damned good reason for waking me up in the middle of the fucking night!\" \nFinally, a voice starts uttering some numbers, \"3\", \"2\", \"6\". He continues, \"Bellingham Way.\" \n\"326 Bellingham Way what the fuck are you talking about?\" \nClick.\nWhat the hell was that all about?\nI scribbled the address down and headed back to bed.\n\nUgh, another shitty night's sleep. I've gotta head over to the coffee shop.\n\nA bell jingles as I opened the door. \n\"Woody!\" shouted the barista. \"The usual?\" \n\"Double it! Ring me up for this paper too.\" \nMeghan works the morning shifts. She likes to call me 'Woody.' My real name is Patrick Wood.\n\nI hopped into my favorite spot and started reading.\n\nNovember 22, 2017 \nLocal cookout... More election bullshit... \nCharles King, 58, was found hanging from a tree outside of the Central Baptist Church.\n\nDamn, wasn't he that guy I met at the tavern a few weeks ago? What a shame.\n\nEnough of this, I need to get some more jokes written for this gig. \nI grabbed my notebook, it was still open from last night. \n326 Bellingham Way, it said, written across the page.\nWhat could this be about? Should I go check it out?\nNo, not now, I've got to work. Next page.\n\nA few hours have passed, my coffee is dry. I think I've exhausted my creativity today.\n\"Seeya Meghan!\", \"Bye Pat.\"\n\nI hopped into my car. Alright, I've got to check this place out. I typed it in and drove away.\n\n\n\"You will arrive at 326 Bellingham Way in 25 minutes.\"\n\nThis sure is far out. Barely any buildings around. \n\n\n\"Turn right\" \n\"Turn left\"\n\nThis looks like a driveway. Is it that building up on the left? It looks like a glorified shed. \n\"You have arrived at your destination.\"\n\nI stepped out, and shouted, \"Anybody here? Hello?\"\nWaste of my fucking time.\n\nI walked up to the door. \nKnock, knock. \nNothing... \nMuch harder, I tried again. \nKnock, knock. \nThe door squeaked open. \n\n\"Hello?\"\nI stepped inside. No windows, no light, I stumbled around looking for a switch. \nSomething tickled my head. I reached up and grabbed it. A light chain!\n\nThe room lit up, and fear fell before my eyes. Plastered on the wall, hundreds, maybe thousands of pictures. \nClose ups, at work, at home. Who took all these photos? Has somebody been following me? \n\nI looked to my right and froze from what appeared in front of my eyes.\nThe wall was covered in blood, written in large letters across the room.\n\nPATRICK WOOD\n\n\"What the fuck is going on?\", I shouted.\n\nIt's time to leave. I ran towards the door. I don't remember closing it when I came in.\nThe handle wouldn't turn. Am I locked in here now?\n\nI looked back, seeing a small table underneath the blood. I walked over to the table. Sitting atop it was a small notebook.\nThe book was already spread open to a page with what appeared to be a list.\n\n1\\. Johnathan Smith, 1/23/1992 \n2\\. Kelly Smith, 1/23/1992 \n3\\. Michael Bick, 6/14/1992 \n... \n56\\. Sheldon Waters, 4/26/2002 \n57\\. William Hanks, 7/1/2002 \n... \n98\\. Vincent Beck, 10/30/2017 \n99\\. Charles King, 11/21/2017 \n100\\. Patrick Wood, 11/22/2017\n\nThat's my name...\nThat's today...\nWhat the hell is this?\n\nAll these different names, 25 years.\nWait a minute.\n\nCharles King? No it can't be. \n\nIn a rage, I flung the book off of the table, and in the blink of an eye, everything went black.\n\nI opened up my eyes. What happened, where am I?\nWhat is this place? White walls, white chair, white desk.\nWhat happened to me? Am I dead?\n\nI sat down. Upon the table sat a piece of paper and a telephone.\nI picked up the paper and started reading.\n\nYou have one call.", "The phone started ringing late in the evening, long after Edie had gone to bed. Jenny groped at the counter behind her until she managed to grab the phone and answer it. \"Hello, you've got Jenny.\"\n\n\"Hello, Jenny.\" The voice on the other end cracked slightly, a soft wave of static covering something that was almost music, fading almost into hearing and out again. \"You didn't know me. My name is, was, Angela.\"\n\n\n\"Was-? Oh. OH. Angela. I- oh, I don't know what to say.\"\n\n\"I don't need you to say anything, Jenny.\" There was another pauses, maybe if Angela had still been alive, Jenny would've just heard her breathing. \"I didn't know who to call, because I don't know who it was. They had a key to my apartment, no one should have a key to my apartment, and Dondon didn't bark, so it's someone I know.\"\n\nJenny's heart started to race. \"You- were murdered.\"\n\n\"Yes. And I don't know who it was. But it was someone I knew. I don't have long on this call, but I wanted someone to know. I wanted to tell someone. My name was Angela Walken and I was murdered by someone I knew, someone who had a copy of my apartment key. Please don't let them get away with it, Jenny.\"\n\n\"I- I won't,\" Jenny heard herself promise. \"I won't, Angela, I promise. They won't get away with it.\n\n\"Thank you.\" The music was starting to come back; the static growing louder, obscuring everything from Jenny's hearing. \"Thank you, Jenny.\"\n\nAnd the line crackled off into silence.", "\"Mmmhm hello?\" I mumbled as I stretched out on my warm bed. I glanced at my alarm. It was three in the morning. I started to reach for my shoes, assuming it was Amanda calling for a ride. She tends to drink too much, even though she usually doesn't have a ride. \n\"Uh, hi...\" a soft voice answered back. Definitely not Amanda. \n\"Um, who is this?\" And why are you calling me at three in the morning, I wondered.\n\"Oh, uh, sorry. You don't really know me...but, I know you....\" the voice answered, sending a chill down my spine.\n\"Is this some kind of joke?! If it is, it's not funny!\" I screamed as I started to look out the window, to see if someone was outside messing with me.\n\"Shit, sorry, that sounded really creepy. I didn't mean to be...it's just, this is my last call, and I don't really know what to say...\" the voice was barely a whisper. \n\"Oh...\" I had nothing to say. Everyone knew what last call meant, but it's hard to believe that I was actually someone's last call. \n\"Uh, I'm sorry...but, why are you calling me? You know me apparently, but I don't even know you, or at least I don't think I do.\" I started to think about who I would call for my last call, wondering if the voice really had no one else to call.\n\"Well, you were always really nice to me...I never knew someone could be so nice to a complete stranger...I won't give you the sob story that is my life. Or, was my life at least... I just wanted to talk to someone who always made living a little bit easier for me.\" The voice sounded hesitant, as if they didn't want me to know all of this. I didn't know what to say.... but, I knew I couldn't let their last call be wasted....\n\"Alright... so, what do you want to talk about?\" I asked as I sat on my bed, my back against the wall. We talked about everything basically, our favorite shows and movies, sports, what we wanted to be when we grew up, funny stories from our lives, etc. I even got the voice to laugh, a real laugh. I couldn't help but laugh with them. Eventually, dawn broke, and we ran out of things to say. \n\"Well, this is it...\" \n\"Yeah...\"\n\"Do you think....if things were different.... we could have been friends?\" The voice asked.\n\"Of course! I'm sure we would have been best friends.\" I couldn't help but smile at the thought. I didn't even know what they looked like, but I couldn't help thinking of all the things we would do together. It was a nice thought...\n\"Heh, thank you. Thank you...\" the voice let out a shuddering breath, then hung up. I let my phone fall to my lap, and I just sat there. I called in sick for work that day, and just took a day. I honestly didn't know what to do with myself after that... it wasn't until I went back to work the next day, that I realized who that voice belonged to...", "\"Hey...this is...ah shit. I can't even remember my fucking name. Well you see, I guess I only get one call and, well you were the one person I could think of. I just wanted to let you know that for the time I was there your chipper smile every morning on your way to get coffee was the only sense of caring I'd felt. Thanks for the few bucks every now and then. Sincerely, the corner of 9th and broadway\"", "\"Hello?\"\n\nEven through that, I could only think about the stack of applications mounting on my desk and all of the mailboxes burying my resume beneath other aspirations and ambitions, all of which more deserving than mine.\n\nStill, one should project a little more confidence within their voice, where faces are missing, and where tone and timbre reflect an entire philosophy and eclipse size and stature for better or for worse.\n\n\"Did I reach Mike Park?\"\n\n\"Yes..... Yeah-Yes, this is him. What can I help you with? I'm currently not in the office right now, but I can help you first thing this Thursday. If it's an urgent matter, someone at Community Outreach can help you first thing tomorrow morning.\"\n\n\"Oh no,\" the voice chuckled, \"That won't be necessary. I can't be helped.\"\n\nThe voice sounded exhausted, as if it's spoken through every hardship and for every aftermath. The voice sounded spent and stripped of all identity, yet strangely satisfied in purpose.\n\nShit, what am I supposed to do? I haven't been trained for this. I'm not a certified professional for this type of situation.\n\n\"Hold on, I can transfer you to another line. Just wait and you can be helped.\"\n\nThe voice chuckled again.\n\n\"Like I said, that won't be necessary. I quite literally can't be helped.\"\n\n\"Excuse me, but this line is for serious matters only, and, as I've said, any serious matters which I am not qualified to handle, I will transfer you to a professional. I can-\"\n\nThe voice chuckled again.\n\n\"It's alright. Maybe I should have rephrased it? Maybe I should have emphasized that I can't be helped because I already have been. You really ought to finish listening before speaking, but I suppose that's what I've always loved about you because it's what makes you honest in your emotions and intentions-\"\n\nThe voice paused.\n\nWhat's going on with this person? I'm really not ready for this.\n\n\"Well, there are rules to this, but I just wanted to call you to say thank you. Thank you Mike. Thank you for saving me. And, what else can I say?\"\n\n\"Who is this?\"\n\n\"I have to go soon, but I was told that there are rules to this and I know you'll understand the reason some day.\"\n\n\"Rules to what? Rules for-\"\n\n\"Appreciate the time you'll have and don't regret the time you'll have spent. Some things just can't be changed.\"\n\n\"I asked, who is this?\"\n\nThe voice chuckled again.\n\n\"Mike, you already know me... or I think you'll get to know me in due time? Again, I'm not sure exactly how this works and details get a little unclear as time goes on.\"\n\n\"Hello?!! Just give me some information. I can help you.\"\n\nThe voice chuckled again.\n\n\"There's no way I can be helped. Hopefully I'm not breaking any rules by saying this, but there really is no way you can help me.\"\n\nThe voice paused.\n\n\"You see, I can't be helped because..... I'm dead.\"\n\nThe voice paused again.\n\n\"I've got to go now Mike, but as I've said before, I know you'll understand in time. Remember what I've said and goodbye.\"\n\nSilence rang from the phone and the inevitable dial tone couldn't have been more deafening.", "This party was just too much, I just had to take a step outside and breathe in some fresh air. \n \n\nThe silence only lasted for a minute before it was interrupted by the ringing of my phone, must be Kelly, again, I thought as I picked up my phone.\n \n\n\"Hello, Hello,\" a tired voice called out. \n \n\"hello,\" I asked in a hesitated tone.\n\n\"James, James, I'm glad you answered.\" \n \n\nrealizing the error, I replied, \"No, you must have the wrong-\" \n \n\n\"I tried calling your parents, but they wouldn't pick up. And then I tried calling your siblings but I couldn't reach them either,\" she interrupted, \"they almost didn't let me make the other calls after the first one didn't go through\". \n\n\n\"look my name's Nath-\" \n \n\n\"I'm really hope they're okay, I haven't heard from any of you in while, you're still mad at me for accidentally buying you the wrong game for your fifteenth birthday, aren't you?\" \n \n\n\"look, I'm not who you thin-\" \n \n\n\"I'm sorry, That was the month your grandfather past away, and I had to take care of the funeral arrangements. I'll buy you the next one as soon as my check comes in the mail.\" \n \n\n\"sure,\" was all I could muster out. \n \n\nSurely, playing along couldn't hurt. \n \n\n\"So, have you finally asked that girl from high school out,\" she asked after a while as she had to think about it. \n\"I did, and I even got married to her!\" \n \n\n\"I - I - I , can't believe it. Did I miss the ceremony?\" \n \n\n\"No, you were there, it was the same place you and grandpa met\" \n \n\n\"you mean, the Scarlot Lot?\" \n \n\n\"yes, that's the place\" \n \n\n\"well, honey their telling me I have to go now, it was really nice talking to someone again.\" \n \n\n\"good bye grandma\" \n \n\n\"good bye, James,\" she said in a tired but satisfied tone. \n", "Hello, this is Morgan Freeman.\n\nWhoa, for real? This is really Morgan Freeman?\n\nIts like you have heard my voice before. (Soft, dry chuckle with shake of head) May I ask who is calling?\n\nMy name is Steve. I just died, and well it looks like you get a phone call from Heaven after you die.\n\nYou think I don't know that, Steve? I spend four weeks in Heaven researching my role as God in Bruce Almighty. I know about the phone booth you're in. It smells like cotton candy, am I right?\n\nYes! Anyways, I didn't really have anyone to call so I just dialed one of the LA area code then spelled out WANT BOOBS and you answered.\n\nLucky guess! And yes, that was intentional. So what can I do for you?\n\nWell... nothing I guess. Anything you wanna ask me?\n\nNo, I'm on set of my new movie and I have to go now.\n\nOh. What's your new movie?\n\nWell, remember that movie where me and three other old actors went to Vegas and got laid?\n\n(shudders) Yeah. Oh God, my mouth tastes weird all of a sudden.\n\nWell we are making a sequel. I'm sure it's gonna be terrible, but as you now know, you CAN take it with you.\n\nYeah, I didn't expect to be charged for my robe, harp, wings, and that afterlife tax....\n\nThat's where they get you in Heaven. And I made the mistake of telling DeNiro, which is why he does seven lousy movies a year, most of which are roles I could also play. He's taking away my afterlife funds.\n\nYeah, I've got... $34 left. \n\nThat's not gonna last an eternity.\n\nNo shit, Easy Reader. Why am I still talking to you? This call is eating up the rest of my cash. (hangs up)\n\n(weary chuckle) You know, some folks say a man is only as good as his words but I've never heard a man say he will work for his reputation instead. That doesn't make much sense, but you read it in my voice, didn't you? This is Morgan Freeman signing off. See you at the movies ", "I was going about my day off as usual. Sleeping in, making a decent breakfast, catching up on shows and just shooting the breeze. It was one of those slow days where it feels like the day drags on and nothing really seems interesting anymore. I wasn't tired enough to nap so that was out of the question. I had already checked my social media to the point that refreshing the pages did nothing. It was just one of those slow days. Until my phone rang. \n\nUnknown numbers weren't uncommon and I usually picked up to see what kind of vacation I had won or how to fix my computer that was apparently riddled with viruses. But this time, it was different. My phone rang, I picked it up and looked at the odd combination of numbers. Unfamiliar area code, the usual. I picked up and just said \"Hello\" to try and trigger the automatic recording that was surely going to start soon. But that didn't happen. Almost immediately a voice spoke up. One I didn't recognize but one that didn't sound robotic. \"Hello, is this Mr. Fredrick?\" \n\nI stood there a bit confused, not really sure how to proceed. \n\n\"Yes, this is he. Can I help you?\"\n\n\"Well, you kinda already have. You see, you're my one call. And I wanted to thank you.\" \n\nAt this point, my head started to race a bit. I knew about the one phone call after death but I hadn't gotten a call in years. I tried to pinpoint the voice but I couldn't. I pressed on hoping to get an answer. \n\n\"I'm not really sure who you are. Or why you're thanking me for that matter.\" \n\n\"I understand your confusion. You don't know me personally, nor I you, but you saved my life. Several years ago, I was riding the bus and I had been fired. I was feeling very depressed as I was already having a very bad week and me getting fired was the icing on the cake. You, Mr. Frederick, you saw me and told me not to give up. You. Who had no idea what I was going through. What had happened or who I was. You looked at me and told me that things will get better and to not give up. Do you remember that?\" \n\nI was speechless and barely managed to utter out a near silent \"yeah.\" I had nearly forgot about that day on the bus but it came back to me in perfect clarity even though it had been so many years since. The look of hopelessness on this young mans face. His desperation. Me, knowing what it was like, and feeling so bad for someone so young to experience such sorrow. I remember what I told him before I got off that bus. My eyes had started to water at the thought of that day and he continued. \n\n\"I had had such an awful week. I had planned to kill myself when I got home. I couldn't take it anymore. I didn't know how or with what I would have done it with, all I knew at that moment was that I wanted it all to end. All the pain. All the disappointment. All of it. But your words helped me realize that it would get better. That there is hope and that killing myself wouldn't solve anything. When I got home, I started looking for other jobs. I got back up with a new passion and a more positive outlook. I got a job, rose through the ranks, bettered myself, and saw life through new eyes. All because of you.\" \n\nTears were streaming down my face. I was stunned and couldn't say anything. I just sat there with my phone pressed against my ear. \n\n\"I just wanted to thank you Mr. Frederick. I found my true potential and didn't end my life prematurely. Thanks to you. I have lived a full life and truly understand what it's like to exist fully. So thank you.\" \n\nAnd with that last line, he was gone. \n\nEdit: Thank you very much for the gold. I'm glad you enjoyed my reply :)", "> Incoming call: Afterlife\n\nThis was the first time John had gotten this call. A few people around him had died but nobody had called him, choosing spouses, soul mates or children instead. He figured he would eventually get called by someone but as far as he knew all of his closest friends and family were still alive. Being only nineteen he hadn't expected to get a call for quite some time. Perhaps someone had been in an accident? \n\nHis hands trembled as he picked up his phone and accepted the call. \n\"he-...hello?\" \nIt felt weird starting this conversation in such a mundane fashion but then again what do you say to someone who's dead? \nA shaky and unfamiliar voice answered. \n\"Eh, hey. Thank you for picking up. Who is this?\" \n\nJohn took his phone from his ear and looked at it in confusion. \n\n>ongoing call: \n> Afterlife \n> 00:15 \n\nIt really was the afterlife. He hadn't heard of someone from beyond ever calling a wrong number, was that even possible? \n\n\"I'm John Bucket, who are you?\" \n\"Hayden Palmer. And before you ask, no we don't know each other.\" \nJohn closed his mouth, he had been about to ask just that. \n\"Let me explain\" Hayden continued, \"When I got up here they told me there's a condition on living in heaven. Apparently you have to be remembered, someone needs to know you.\" \n\"So why not call someone you know?\" John asked, still confused. \n\"The problem is that I've been a bit of a recluse. Well, not just a bit of a recluse really. I actually bought an old oil platform and lived most of my life there. I don't really know all that many people.\" Hayden said. \n\"There's the few people that delivered my food from time to time, but other than that nearly everybody I knew forgot about me, and most of the rest already passed away.\" \n\n\"Why didn't you call one of them? They at least knew your name before you called them\" \n\"They do know my name. They called me \"that old crazy hermit\" though, and that was one of the kinder names too. They aren't people that would care to know the real me.\" \n\nJohn was silent for a while, trying to figure out what to say. Clearly Hayden had the same problem as he too remained quiet, until he cleared his throat and started talking again. \n\n\"But it seems that that is the catch; people have to know you. Not know of you. They told me it's a mechanism put in place to keep Heaven from overcrowding, once you're forgotten you fade away. And well. Nobody knows me. Nobody remembers the life I lead before I bought the oil rig, or knows of the things I did in my childhood.\" Hayden chuckled, but it had a bitter edge to it. \"It was painful when they told me that, that I've already been forgotten.\" \nHe sighed and John thought he could hear a sob on the other side before Hayden started talking again. \n\"So that's why I'm calling you. I'm hoping you could listen to my story for a bit. Perhaps after sharing my life with you, sharing all of it, the good and the bad, perhaps then they will let me stay here for a while.\" \n\n\"I guess I, eh. Alright.\" John stammered. Hayden laughed, a genuine and relieved laugh. \n\"Thank you John. Make yourself comfortable, I've lived a long life.\"\n", "This is my room. Bingo Bear sits here on my desk, but I move him over if I want to draw. Sometimes I talk on my phone while I draw. This phone is only for pretend, but I know how to answer the real phone, too. I did it yesterday, do you want to hear about it?\n\nMommy had to go to the store. She ran out of eggs. She left me at home, but I’m not supposed to tell anyone about that. So don’t tell anyone, okay?\n\nThe phone rang four times and I almost didn’t answer it because I never done it before, but then I did it anyway. And I said, “This is the Avery residence, Patty speaking” just like I practiced with Mommy.\n\nThen I heard a sound that was like when you’re chewing cereal and you cover your ears and it’s so loud. Then I heard a voice and it was a man’s voice, but old.\n\nThe man asked if Judy was there and I said no, since only Mommy and I live here. Then he asked for Mommy and I told him that she was taking a shower (because that’s what you’re supposed to say when you are Home By Yourself).\n\nThen the man didn’t say anything at all for a real long time and I thought he went away. When I said Hello? he said to tell Judy how pretty she looks. Then I guess he hung up because he didn't say anything after that.\n\nWhen Mommy came back I told her about the phone and she started crying.\n\nIsn’t that silly?\n", "I was trying not to nod off during my morning calculus class when my phone began buzzing. I fumbled for it in my pocket, drawing the looks of the rest of my class and the glare of Mrs. Johnson, who had been droning on about something, probably derivatives. I pulled the phone out to silence it, but upon glancing at the number displayed, my stomach fell. \n\n777-7777 \nHeaven\n\nI showed the number to Mrs. Johnson, who gasped, then nodded her head and waved her hand towards the door. I thanked her softly, putting the phone to my ear as I waled out of the class. As the door closed, I heard the professor return to her lesson, her voice taking on a far shakier air.\n\n\"Hello?\" I asked, ready to hear my grandmother's voice at the other end of the line. Gramma had been in hospice for two years now, and doctors had told us that she did not have much time left. I never thought she would call me, instead of one of her sons, but I could use one last chat with her, where she was in her right mind.\n\nThe voice on the other end, however, was not my grandmother, nor was it anyone's mother for that matter. It was gruff, a voice aged by years of smoking. \"Yeah, listen up kid, I don't have too much time for this call, so I hope you got something to take notes.\"\n\n\"I'm sorry, who is this?\" I was confused, to say the least. We had found out about the \"Last Rites Call\" some three years ago, but did not believe it was a real thing until the President, the Pope, and almost every other world leader had to come together to acknowledge their existence in order to limit the number of calls giving advice that came their way. Since then, calls had mostly gone to family members or friends. Each person who died had one last call to make to pass along any final requests, suggestions, words of assurance, and goodbyes. In recent months, \"Last Call Parties\" had become the newest fad, getting everyone together to put the call on speaker so the deceased could send one last prayer.\n\n\"Your name is William Peters, right?\" The dead man asked.\n\n\"Yes, that's right,\" I replied, getting somewhat annoyed.\n\n\"Well, that's my name too. I wanted to talk to someone with my name and give them the opportunity of a lifetime.\"\n\n\"Why call me though? Don't you have any family, or friends.\"\n\nA rasping laugh came from the other end which devolved into a wheezing cough, and I had a pretty good idea of what had caused his death. As far as anyone knew, the deceased were returned to a perfect mental state somehow, but anything they brought upon themselves in the living world carried over to the afterlife.\n\n\"Oh, I have a pretty big family. Bet they're going to be real pissed off when they don't get a call. Nope, I wanted to call you. Well, a Will Peters, to be precise, and you're the big winner. Lucky you!\"\n\n\"How does this make me lucky?\"\n\n\"Well, I have about fifty million dollars buried in the good ol' USA, that you are about to get the directions to.\"\n\nMy heart started racing. Fifty million? \"What's the catch? I know this can't be just, 'here's the directions, go have fun,' right?\"\n\nAnother laugh. \"Yeah, you're right, kid. I'm going to tell you where the map is, you'll have to find the rest of the clues from there.\"\n\nI glanced at my phone. Calls were limited to three minutes, and I was more than halfway done already. \"Should have figured it wouldn't be easy.\"\n\n\"Not at all, so listen up: The map is where I saw the most beautiful woman in the world, in the city with the best judges to agree with me. Clock's ticking.\" The line went dead.\n\nI hung up, angrily. Who was this guy, and what was he even saying? I looked at my phone again, and noticed that there was a new notification.\n\n1 Missed Call \n777-7777 \nHeaven\n\nI had missed her. Gramma had called me, me, with her one call, and I had missed her because some nutcase had decided to try and send me on a treasure hunt? He had ruined her one chance at closure! I was about to scream, when I noticed I had a voicemail. No one had ever gotten a voicemail before from someone dead as far as I knew.\n\nThen again, I'm sure no one has missed a call due to being sent on a wild goose chase, I thought to myself as I started to listen to the message. My eyes began to well up as I head my grandmother's voice on the other end.\n\n\"Hello Billy, this is Gramma. I know you know why I'm calling. I missed you at the hospital, but I know you're in class because I told you to go. Education is important. I was a teacher, so you know I'm right. I wanted to tell you that I hope you always put your best effort into anything you do. I am so proud of you, and always will be. You deserve the best. Gramma loves you so much. Bye-bye.\"\n\nThe message ended, and a surge of emotions hit me all at once. A mix of sadness at her passing, happiness for hearing her one last time, and anger at not getting to actually talk to her bubbled up to my head. I threw my phone as far as I could, a small sense of satisfaction crossing my lips as it hit the ground. I had no idea why it made me feel good, but it helped. \n\nI slumped to the ground, weeping. Gramma's words rang in my head, her voice reverberating. I hope you always put your best effort into anything you do. I thought about what she said, and about the call I had gotten. Fifty million dollars was a lot of money, and I could do a lot of good in the world with that.\n\nI slowly got to my feet, then shuffled back to my class. I had a few classes to finish today, then I had a riddle to solve.", "My phone started ringing beside me, which was strange. The first issue was that it was midday which meant everyone was supposed to be at work, the second issue was that phones didn't ring anymore, they buzzed. They buzzed for text messages and emails, but they didn't ring anymore.\n\nThe caller I.D said it was nobody I knew and I left the phone ringing on the desk. Seconds turned into a minute, and it kept chiming so I took a deep breath and picked up, maybe the cell company could just make it keep ringing when they needed to talk to you.\n\n\"Hello?\" I asked.\n\n\"Hello,\" the woman on the other end of the phone echoed. She was almost whispering. \"Can you hear me?\"\n\n\"Uh, yeah,\" I said, \"who is this?\"\n\n\"It's-\" she paused, \"Sharon.\" Did I know a Sharon? Was there that one back in highschool that-\n\n\"Sharon Tammers?\" I asked.\n\n\"No, no,\" she took a deep breath, \"look, you don't know me but I just needed to talk to someone, you know?\"\n\n\"Uh, okay?\" I began hunting for a notepad on my desk. There had to be one here, and this sounded like it was leading into one of those suicide things. I wanted information and-\n\n\"So yay, you're my one phone call. How great is that?\" she asked with false cheer. \n\n\"Are you in prison?\" I asked. \n\n\"No, no,\" she sighed, \"the ONE phone call. You're my one.\"\n\n\"O-oh,\" I stopped my hunt for the pen and leaned back in my office chair. I'd never been someone's 'one' phone call before. Mom had died, and she'd called Dad, but aside from that my life had been goddamn death free. \n\nWait. I was her one which meant that she thought I was important enough to be her one phone call and I didn't remember her. What kind of awful person could forget someone that they had that big an impact on? Jesus Christ, I was a monster and- \"Uh, Sharon?\"\n\n\"I don't know you, it's okay,\" she answered like she knew what was coming. I managed a nervous chuckle. \"What's up with you?\" she asked.\n\n\"What's up with me?\" I stared at the computer screen where I'd been browsing facebook instead of working, \"isn't that a little off topic?\"\n\n\"I don't have a topic. I just wanted to talk to someone, and you seemed like a pretty good option.\"\n\n\"That's,\" I started, \"sad,\" I finished without really thinking about the context. She was calling me with her one phone call from the afterlife. Where were her family? Her friends? Her.. doctor?\n\n\"It's not like that,\" she said, \"I had people to call, but I couldn't figure out which one should get it and-\" she sighed, \"look it's stupid, but I couldn't figure it out so I just... kinda.... folded?\" \n\n\"Folded?\" I asked.\n\n\"Like poker,\" she said, \"I used to be a dealer out in Vegas.\"\n\n\"Oh, that's cool.\"\n\n\"It kinda sucked,\" she admitted.\n\n\"So you're just talking to me?\" I asked before getting up out of my chair to pace. \"Just a random person?\"\n\n\"Yeah,\" she sighed, \"I couldn't figure out who to call so I just figured I could call someone who didn't matter,\" she took a second, \"matter to me,\" she corrected.\n\n\"You didn't wanna talk to-\" I tried to figure out a family member, she sounded young enough to have parents, \"your Dad?\"\n\n\"What would Mom think of that?\" she asked, \"I can't say that I love my Dad more so I wanted to talk to him and-\" she went quiet, \"How am I supposed to choose which one I want to talk to?\" she asked.\n\n\"So you aren't talking to any of them?\" I asked.\n\n\"So I'm talking to you,\" she corrected.\n\n\"That's,\" I started before losing my words. I stopped in the middle of the doorway to my office and leaned on the frame. \"Huh.\"\n\n\"Huh?\" she asked, \"I know it's stupid it's j-\"\n\n\"I don't think it's stupid,\" I corrected, \"I just hadn't thought of it that way before.\"\n\n\"Well now you have,\" she pointed out. \"God, what am I supposed to talk about here? I'm dead. I'm dead. This is my last time to interact with anyone. I-\" she took a deep breath, \"Look, I'm gonna go. This was stupid and-\"\n\nI cut her off. \"No. It wasn't,\" I pointed out, \"just stay on the line for a bit. We'll talk.\"" ]	18
	[WP] Moses returns to Earth with an important message: The Commandment said "Thou Shalt Not Kill Spiders"	[ "It was with with a surprised happiness that Ethan faced Moses in the alleyway next to a brothel. \"Moses, don't tell me that even you've fallen to such lows?\" \n\n\"No, no,\" Moses shook his head, hippie hair animated with each shake. \"I-\" \n\n\"I know you parted the sea man, here to part legs now?\" Ethan's smile grew wider. \n\n\"Afraid not, I'm here to impart an eleventh commandment.\" \n\nEthan frowned. \"Killing my boner, bro. What is it? Something we can work with?\" \n\n\"Thou,\" Moses used his most important voice. The one that seemed to make people listen. \"Shall not kill arachnids.\" \n\n\"What's that?\" \n\n\"Spiders.\" Moses waited for Ethan to speak, but spoke up himself after too long. \"What's the matter?\" \n\n\"Dude,\" Ethan said. \"You know Jezebel still hasn't forgiven you giving whatever shit you gave to her. She calls you the burning bush^1 .\" \n\nMoses placed his hands up, palms outward. A pose that asked for mercy. \"Apologies. Apologies.\" \n\n\"I'm just saying,\" Ethan shrugged, putting a hand on Moses's shoulder. \"They won't listen to you man. They're looking for any excuse to turn from you bro, if you forbid the killing of spiders, come on man that's not kosher.\" \n\nMoses nodded and pulled out his phone which he had because God. That seems to fill much bigger questions, don't question it filling my plot hole. He thumbed through the amazing^2 Reddit mobile app and went to /r/spiderbros. A single tear fell on the screen as he whispered two words. \"I tried.\" \n\n^1 Moses hired a great PR guy sometime between then and the thousands of years until now. \n\n^2 read as: shit" ]	1
	[WP] Neanderthals didn't go extinct, rather, they achieved space flight far before Homo sapiens and took to the stars before recorded history. They watch humanity, waiting for a time to return. That time is now.	[ "The material making up the ship was made up of carbon nanotubes pulled into a thread and then woven into a cloth, the cloth was then sealed with resin to make it airtight. It was then stretched along supports in the keraveno ship yard, orbiting zereph.\n\nFalpan had worked for 22 hours and 15 minutes straight without sleep, his limbs were weary and this was the last rectangle of ship canvas for the day, excited to get some much needed sleep he decided to eyeball the measurement on resin, the resulting ship canvas was flawed.\n\n...\n\n\nI watched as earth aproached, knowning how dumb those apes were last time this should be easy. They barely had language figured out.\n\nI am afraid of airbakes, absolutely terrified, to he honest I dont know why other people are not, I mean the whole ship is shaking, meanwhile you are pulling 5 times earth gravity and theres plasma outside your window from the heat. Thats why I suit up in my eva suit. \n\nWe fell into earths atmosphere.\n\n\"Starting airbrake procedure\" was voiced on the comms, no shit I can see plasma outside my window.\n\n\"Surface temp of heatshield is 2,000 degrees celcius\" lovely, the perfect tempurature for a nice day on the beach.\n\nAll I heard was whooshing then silence. ", "We have come back to our forgotten brethren. Lab rats running around warming the planet to our desired temperature. Corruption reeks from their DNA. Soon their time will be over. \n\nWe have already set the biological markers down in their DNA; I will call the strike and the birds will do the rest. But, they are also Neanderthal. Such gifts we could bestow upon our forgotten trials. Perhaps, we could heal them. So, instead of the virus being terminal it shall heal them of their deformities. There, at last a humane solution. \n\n\"Sir\" \n\"Yes\"\n\"it didn't work, we cronenberged the place...\"\n\"Set course for Mars\"\n" ]	2
	[WP] Every 30 minuets a demon is summoned from a pentagram, your job is to kill it. You are a Demon Spawn Camper.	[ "I glance at the clock its now 15 past the hour. \nWhy did I eat from a convenience store? I was hungry and I had to put gasoline in the tank. With limited time before work it seemed like a choice that benefited my attendance with minor effort. None of the choices seemed like a good idea now in hindsight. From the deep fried cheese, to the chili covered corn dog, topped off with a quick minute microwaved frozen burrito. It had only been an hour in my shift when I started sensing my misfortune. What had only started as unease of the stomach soon became an ever creeping force. Soon I would expect would pick any direction for mass exit. I remove my glasses and applied a used napkin to wipe the sweat from my forehead. As I rearrange my frames upon my head I see the clock is now 22 past the hour. The moment is too near the problem is intensifying do I have time? A horde of perspiration gather once more as my body fights a viscous battle, I know know it would soon need to retreat. The clock now show 24. Can I make it 6 more, or can I even run and be back by then? 5 minutes should be plenty of time. Really can make it in 3 if you subtract the time to walk there and back. I know its against the rules but I cannot wait. I just know I won't be late. I run down the hall and make a right, on past the room with the green light. I make a line to the mens room door, to only be met with a service sign. I make it to the ladies room in with little spare time. One can only try to act in haste in such a situation. I do what is needed and I rush back out the door. Pass the room with the light which is now red. It means the process has started. Every step brings more doubt I'll make it in time. I ram my door open to enter the room. Fog engulfed over everything as it now swallows the light; every shadow under every object begins to grow. I now know what demon it is and can pick which button to press. A loud clap is made by my hand as I slam into it. A light is focused though a lens and the demon cries out in pain as it returns through its portal. I lay against the machine now focused on my body. What is this new sting upon my stomach? Something different than before. The pain sinks in. I now know the truth. I didn't quite make it quickly enough after all. My stomach now lays upon the floor, and I notice under it my food wrapper. Not exactly what one knowingly picks for their last meal. So again I ask, Why did I eat from a convenience store?", "\"It pays well!\" They said. \"It'll be fun!\" They said. \"Really easy!\" They said. Well it turns out there was a damn typo, so here I am listening to the same minuet for the twenty-seventh time. What a useless waste of time. At this rate I'll get more money working at McDonalds than killing these stupid monsters.", "For a moment, I rest. It has been 27 minutes since the last lesser demon spawned in the middle of Falador. God, if only they had normal spawn rates. I wouldn't mind, but out of all the experienced demon slayers, plenty of which live in Falador, they chose me for the Falador night shift. Not ideal, considering I'd rather be in Catherby fishing lobsters, hell I'd even take shrimp fishing over this crap. With a sigh, I move my focus from the clock to the pentagram, painted in red around the fountain. One minute left, then I'll be waiting for another excruciating half hour. Rinse and repeat. The guards at the gate won't even talk to me. Why aren't they doing this? The demons are only 60 levels superior. It would be a hoot to spectate, I'm sure. \n\nBegrudgingly, I ready my rune crossbow, loaded with the finest enchanted onyx arrows. At least they supplied me with decent gear - I can't really complain, it's a step up from my elder shieldbow. It almost catches me off guard, but the pentagram begins to glow, and fire burst up before dispersing, revealing a blood-red demon with knife like claws and horns. Its eyes are a toxic green, they're dark and yet they emit light, like the eyes are eclipses within themselves. Every muscle on its disgusting body is visible on the surface. At once, I fire my bolts and stay well hidden behind the entrance gates to the small town. It begins to stumble towards me, but with every hit it takes, it stops for a moment and screeches in pain. Pathetic. It might as well be an imp. Within seconds, the beast falls to its knees and ceases to exist, leaving behind a pile of ashes and strangely enough a jug of wine. Suddenly, I hear explosions above. I look upwards quickly and notice fireworks, gone as soon as they came. Ah, I must have levelled up. I suppose that's the bonus of this spawn camping business. Perhaps in the future they'll start sending greater demons and set me up for an actual challenge. I eat a whole monkfish and begin resting once more. \n\n\n(yes this entire thing is a runescape reference)\n\n", "The necromancer sat at the tip of the star as the foul beast stepped forth. pulling itself out of the ground with a new vigor. Its eyes glowed a deep red, as demons' eyes often do. The beast inhaled deeply through its horse's nose and I saw the flames course through its mangled corpse. \"How is the land of the living, Ezekiel?\" The necromancer wept tears of joy as he set eyes upon his new demon. \"Horrible, Dionyx.\"\n\nI readied my revolver, spinning the barrel and making sure that the holy bullets sat true in their casings. \"Our father, who art in heaven...\" The demon perked his ears and began to sniff, sensing my presence. He could not smell my odor, as I had bathed in sheep's blood. The necromancer began to laugh nervously, seeing the change in the face of his demon. \"Amen.\"\n\nMy revolver began to glow with the holy spirit as I stepped forth from the shadows and took aim. Demons are always weakest when they first enter our world, their flesh adjusting to the cold air of the earth, brittle as they fight off the freeze. I pulled back the hammer and saw the flaring nostrils as the demon readied itself to charge at me.\n\nThe necromancer began to scream, yelling at his demon to run; the demon remained unfazed, flexing his muscles and pawing the scorched earth. I performed the holiest of 360 no scopes and felt the praise of the church. The demon's head exploded in a kill that was easily worth 200 points in the house of the Lord. The heavenly voice confirmed that I had landed a fatal headshot, with one shot and one kill. The necromancer wept and fell to his knees; he looked at me with pleading eyes. \"Git gud, skrub.\"" ]	4
	[WP] For the past few years you told everyone you were going to college, but you were actually doing something far, far more important.	[ "I hugged my mother and father as we exchanged our final goodbyes before I turned around and started towards the van parked in the driveway. As I stepped in, the realization began to set in that this neighborhood, which had watched me grow from a rambunctious child into a mature diligent adult, I would not see again for a very long time. \n\nAs I started the engine, I popped my head out to wave to my parents one final time. As they waved back, my mother's head resting on my father's shoulder, it was obvious how difficult it was going to be for them to accept the fact that their little boy was finally leaving the nest, leaving this old weathered town, and onto greater things and greater adventures.\n\nJust as I was about to press my foot on the gas, I felt the phone in my pocket vibrate. Figuring it was probably better to check my messages before I went out on the road, I pulled it out and turned it on to reveal three text messages, one from a cousin, and two from close friends. \"Good luck in college! I know you'll do great!\" read the first one. \"Best of luck, bro!\" read the second one. \"I'm going to miss you so much! Hope you have a great time!\" read the final one. So many people wishing me luck in my next big adventure, the next chapter of my life.\n\nBut little did they know, that I wasn't heading out on a college road trip. I wasn't attending a prestigious university like I led them all to believe. In the trunk of the van, beneath boxes of clothes and furniture, was a black glove given to me by a mysterious woman one night as I was out camping one day in the desert. She told me that our worlds were in danger. As she gave me the glove, she told me when the time came, I would know what to do, and when I did, to head towards the lake. I had never thought much of the encounter until one night many months later, when I had a dream of a city on fire, ravaged by a terrible dark demon-like beast. As it stampeded towards me, I lifted my hand, and from it emitted a massive beam of light. The beast roared in terror as I attacked it, preparing the final blow. Then I woke up. And from then on, I knew what I needed to do. A world was in danger, and I was the only one who could save it.\n\nFor about a year on, I did extensive research about the other realm, the realm of angels and demons which possess men's souls, where good and evil fight an ongoing war to determine who shall control the fate of humanity, whether we would live a life of prosperity or despair. If the evil were ever to prevail, humanity would fall into a state of catastrophe, as wars, famine, and natural disasters began to cause chaos in the world among other terrible things. The oracles spoke of a hero who would come and save the realm from the evil dominating the world. I knew that had been chosen for that role.\n\nAnd now here I was, driving down the highway in a white van, some classic rock music on the radio, after telling all of my family and friends that I had been accepted to a prestigious university when really I was heading out to save humanity in such a way that none of them would ever believe, that no one on earth would ever believe. I knew I would sound insane if I tried to convince people, but I could also not divulge the secret. It was as if I knew my whole life I would be chosen for something great, and here I was. \n\nI finally found my exit and turned down the exit ramp to a barren open road. After driving for what seemed like hours, I finally reached my destination, the lake that the lady from the desert told me to go. I turned and parked my van next to an empty shed that seemed like it had been vacant for a long time. I went to the back, opened the doors, moved some boxes, and pulled out the black glove. I pulled it over my hand, shut the doors, locked the van, as if it was even necessary, and walked towards the lake. As I stood on the pebble beach facing the shoreline, I thought to myself \"Alright, here it goes...\" I raised my gauntlet, and immediately I felt my hand begin to vibrate. Then the world around me began to turn blinding followed a deafening high pitched noise. I could feel my whole body tingling, and then all of a sudden, it stopped just as everything went black.\n\nThe next thing I knew, I was in a completely different place. Dressed in rags, and far bulkier than I had ever been, I looked around the pale landscape. Across the water in the distant was a massive city, stretching from end to end, accompanied by a dim sun in a pale sky. Behind me was a bridge that led up to the entrance to a chapel-like tower. I walked towards it, as I marveled the new found strength I had just received. As I stood in front of the giant stone doors, I pushed them open with surprisingly very little effort, revealing a massive room, men and women dressed in armor at two long tables going down to the other side, and an old man sitting on a gold throne at the center of the other side of the room. Immediately they all looked, the look on their faces of surprise and relief, of joy and of excitement. The old man from across the room stood up, raised his hands and said \"Glorious be this day, for the great one has returned!\"\n\nAnd from that moment, I knew that I was chosen for something greater than I could have ever imagined. Higher learning could wait." ]	1
	[WP] First contact happens when you are in your barn milking cows. The alien begins attacking Dolly, your best milk cow. Using redneck ingenuity you must defend your cows.	[ "\"What in da hell is that Betty?\" Johnny calls out.\n\n\"I don know Jimmy, must be one of those space aliens from the movies, Imma go get the shotgun. \" Betty responds as she gets up from the utters and sneaks off.\n\n\"Hey you... Mr.Alien what in the world are ya doin to my Dolly?\" Jimmy yells at the top of his lungs. \n\nThe alien jerked it's praying mantis like head and stared at Jimmy for a second. Then opening it's razor sharp mandibles it let out a deafening shreek. \n\n\"You's an ugly sumbitch.\" Jimmy returned.\n\nThe alien turned it's head back at Dolly then looked at Jimmy, raised it's razor sharp claw and dropped it on Dolly's head. Her legs went limp almost instantly and she fell to the floor. Blood immediately began to ooze from under the stall. \n\n\"My Dolly! What the hell? Why you done fucked up now Mr. Alien.\" Jimmy said as he grabbed the pitchfork to his left. He let out an angry war cry and charged the Alien, pitchfork extended. The Alien quickly jumped up into the hayloft of the barn. \n\n\"Come'ear you sombitch. I'm gonna feeds you to my pigs.\" Jimmy screamed, thrusting his pitchfork up to the hayloft. \n\nThe alien jumped down lightning fast with it's arms extended. Jimmy quickly turned the pitchfork sideways holding it horizontally to protect himself. All six legs impacted the floor at the same time shaking the barn floor knocking Jimmy to the ground. In one swift motion the alien dropped its razer sharp arm on the shaft of the pitchfork and splintered it into two halves. It crawled overtop of Jimmy and dropped it's claw down towards Jimmy's head. He jerked to the right and the claw impaled the floor to his left slicing his ear. \n\n\"God damn it Betty where da fuck you at?\" Jimmy yelled.\n\n\"Momma bear's right here\" she called as she strafed from behind the barn door, both barrels cocked and pointing towards the praying mantis like alien. The alien frantically tried to dislodged it's claw from the floor to flee. \n\n\"Get off my Jimmy ya demon!\" She cried as she looked down the sights, adjusting center mass. \n\nShe squeezed both triggers, P-Pow! A hail of bird shot came flying out of the barrels. Most of the pellets bounced right off it's hard exoskeleton leaving only divots and cracks. However, A few found thier way into the soft spots between it's plates. The Alien jerked itself off Jimmy in desperation snapping the tip of it's claw off in the wood floor and jumped back into the hayloft.\n\n\"Dang nabbit Betty couldn't have used buck shot?\" Jimmy blurted as he quickly hopped to his feet. \n\nBetty pulled two more shells out of the overall pockets and popped them into the barrels. \"Jimmy now you know I ain't got memory.\" She locked the barrels back into place and pulled the hammers back. \n\nGreen goop began seeping through the cracks in the hayloft. She and Jimmy walked up underneath the loft with the shotgun pointed up towards the cracks. \nThey watched the shadows of the Alien's head dance through the cracks.\n\n\"I gotcha now you murderer.\" Betty blurted and pulled a trigger. A volley of pellets hit the boards, a rain of splinters and lead came falling from the loft. The alien let out a loud reverberating shreek and jumped down towards the barn door. Before it touch the ground Betty pulled the second trigger, peppering the belly of the Alien. It hit the ground and quickly skittered around the barn.\n\n\"It's hurt Jimmy let's go finish it off.\" Betty said as she reloaded the barrels and took off out the door, Jimmy in close pursuit. \n\nTBC but first, I have class to attend" ]	1
	[WP] Life and Death show up to the same hospital room.	[ "\"What's it now Janet?\" I heard a grumpy voice beside me. I looked to it and saw a hooded figure, scythe on his left hand, looking ready to swipe me to non-existence. This must be my death, as I am euthanised. \n\n\"It will be fun this time Kammy.\" Another voice spoke from my right. Is death actually two people? I looked and was mesmerized by the beauty of this being named Janet. I guess they are talking to each other. \n\n\"Excuse me, but what are you guys doing in my room? I will die in a few minutes, why are you bickering here?\" I asked the two, stopping their talk. The hooded entity named Kammy looked at me with her unseen eyes.\n\n\"Can't you see young man, we're fighting for your life. Janet wins and I'll leave you alone for the meantime. I win, then you come with me. What's our battle this time Janet?\" The reaper told me. Janet smiled at me when I looked at her again.\n\n\"Coin flip. Best of seven.\" Janet then brought out a dime. \n\n\"I guess I don't have a say in this.\"\n\n\"No babe, just lie down and watch.\" Kammy said with a sultry voice. I guess I have no choice but to watch.", "She walked in, brisk but stately, her silken robes blue from this angle, green from that, and tumbling around her like a brook down mossy stones. The spirit reflections of countless wildflowers coiled around her feet and limbs and through her loose, earthy hair. You couldn't fathom her as any specific race, or estimate her to be any particular age; but if you looked in her deep, liquid eyes, you saw the wisdom of eternity reflecting back at you. You felt safe. You felt peace.\n\n\"Good lord,\" Death muttered, rolling her eyes as she shrugged the feeling off, a little embarrassed that she was even still susceptible to it. \"What's this shit about now?\"\n\nLife, somehow sun-dappled inside the windowless hospital room, turned to Death and bloomed at her like some sort of living Mucha print. Life said nothing, but smiled, a soft and sweet thing full of beauty and love and heartache and possibility. Her robes continued to annoyingly braid and cavort around her body.\n\n\"Okay,\" Death began. \"Okay. I'm serious. I-\" A breathtakingly caparisoned songbird twinkled into existence, and piped something joyful, and deep, and true at Death.\n\n\"Holy shit, would you knock it off?\" Death exploded. \"Oh sure, let's play dress up! That's so fucking appropriate!\" A physical shadow concussed through the room, and Death lifted her now-skeletal arm, black robes whispering down her desiccated skin. The air twisted and then splintered, the broken shards of reality collapsing into a long, cruel scythe, steam rising in fitful whorls from its obsidian shaft and ancient runes glowing on its blade. Death plucked the scythe from the air and deftly spun it through all of the idiot little spirit plants and the songbird, reaping them to grey ash that then puffed away into a cloud of first principles or something. She glared at Life from deep inside the cowl that now wrapped her skull, her eyes twin pinpoints of fire that cast no illumination.\n\nLife giggled, and chucked Death on the shoulder, leaving behind flower petals and a smear of pollen. \"Hey, Death. Are you cosplaying a farmer or something?\"\n\nDeath counted to three before she spoke. \"Don't fucking 'hey' me.\" Death tossed the scythe into the air, where it infinitely folded back into itself and disappeared. Her aspect reverted to how she seemed before. There was no transition; one moment she was the hooded specter of legend, the next, a woman in her thirties. \"What are you doing here?\" \n\nLife sighed, and her aspect changed as well. Slightly. The flowers and other nonsense abated at least, though her robes still did the irritating swirly thing. \"The same thing you are, I imagine. Waiting.\" She nodded to the woman on the gurney, around whom a handful of doctors and nurses crowded. They were speaking urgently, and gesturing at frantically beeping machines. Their arms and smocks were bloody.\n\n\"This doesn't really concern you,\" Death said. \"Not anymore.\"\n\n\"It does, though.\" Life smiled brightly, though there was a patina of pain around it. \"Right up until the end.\"\n\nThey stood in silence for some minutes, watching. \"I'm calling in a favor,\" Life said quietly. \"I think this is the right time.\"\n\nDeath took a breath, and exhaled heavily through her nose. She had expected it; usually Life would avoid focusing on one this hopeless. Even so, a little tremor of disbelief ran through her. \"You've got to be kidding me.\"\n\n\"Nope.\" Life walked over to the woman on the gurney, and placed a hand on her head. The woman's eyes were half-lidded and sightless, crusted over with blood. Through Life's touch, Death felt the woman's heartbeat ebb.\n\n\"On this one? Are you sure?\"\n\n\"Well I'm always sure, right,\" Life said. \"But this time I'm insistent.\"\n\n\"Usually you're at least realistic.\"\n\nA flower bloomed in Life's hand, and she tucked it behind Death's ear. \"Call it in.\"\n\nDeath absently batted the flower into particles, and then knit her eyebrows, her gaze falling glassy and distant for a moment. \"We'll only get one shot at this one. We're not permitted to intervene again. And… look at her. Hell, tomorrow the trauma might-\"\n\n\"I expected we'd only get one. I consent.\"\n\nDeath looked at Life, unsure, but there was nothing else to say. \"I consent. It's arranged.\"\n\nThey stayed well into the night, not speaking much, as the hours wound down and the hospital grew at least more quiet. They attended to their other duties as well, across the world, but most of their attention remained with each other. Life made more songbirds to annoy Death, and Death dispatched them to oblivion with shocking - and increasing - creativity.\n\n\"Why, though?\" Death asked finally, though it was a question she had asked too many times to count, stretching back to the first days. She could still feel the crushed woman's heart in her hand, some two floors down now, who was no further from being collected. From having to be collected. \"And even in the best case…\"\n\n\"Why not?\" Life shrugged. Her answers were never helpful. \"I don't know. Mostly why not. Maybe a feeling.\"\n\n\"A feeling.\" Death shook her head. \"They all end up-\"\n\n\"I know.\"\n\nDeath still never really understood her sister, even after so many long, long years. Not that it mattered much. And though she hated to admit it, she enjoyed spending these quiet moments with her.\n\n\"Hey,\" Death said some time later, as outside the sun was just peeking over the horizon. She wrapped a black jacketed arm around her dozing sister's shoulder.\n\n\"Mmm?\" Life said, leaning into Death's embrace.\n\n\"Your dress is so fucking stupid.\"\n", "\"Well now. What are the odds?\"\n\n\"Quite high. We're in a hospital, after all, and it seems these days we're always meeting each other in hospitals.\"\n\n\"I suppose that's true. Either way, it's good to see you again. I wish the circumstances were different...\"\n\n\"Yeah, it's nice to have a chat with you. It's pretty lonely work otherwise.\"\n\n\"Agreed. Oh, she's about to start, let's get ready. Wouldn't want to miss it. Do you have some time after this? I'd love to catch up.\"\n\n\"Sure, I've got a few minutes to spare. I am curious, though. Are you here for the mother or the newborn?\"", "Ahura was looking down on the hospital bed. She was stricken, and I couldn't blame her. We generally never cross paths any more, and usually when we did it was going to be an awful day. This was absolutely one of those. A girl of only seventeen lay there. She was pretty, almost sylvan in appearance. She had short auburn hair that fanned out around her head like the halo around a street lamp on a foggy day. Her breath and pulse were both weak, but steady. The anesthetic had put her to sleep, and she would have even looked restful if it wasn't for the wounds from the car accident she had received a few hours previously. One particularly nasty gash crossed from her shoulder to her sternum. It was still seeping, slowly soaking through the sheets, and presumably staining the mattress beneath. Nurses were flitting about the room, continuing to try and stabilize her failing body. Ahura reached out and placed her hand on the girl's stomach. One of us was going to have to take the infant that kicked inches below her palm, and the other would take the girl. It was time to decide who each was going to be. \n\nTime stopped and every movement around the room suddenly quieted as Ahura locked eyes with me and shot a glare frigid as the pressing void she had been warring with since the first microbes manifested from the murk where the fires of the earth, and the solemnity of the sea met. Our intertwined existence became much more complex at that beginning. A part of me missed the simplicity of the clockwork universe we both inhabited beforehand. From the time we decided to agitate the darkness to see what would emerge until that first life, we were one. We drifted through our creation, watching wonders unfold before us. It was infinitely spectacular at every turn, but she wanted more. It was moments like this that I wish she had never gotten it. I wished that our little plane had remained simple. That I wasn't forced to be the reviled custodian of her mess. \n\n\"You know you can only take one of them.\" I pulled my lips tight in sympathy. I didn't enjoy this job, but it had to be done.\n\n\"Do not presume to think that that fact has escaped my attention for a second, Angra.\" The fire that sparked in her eyes burned with the ferocity of a dying sun, \"I want the child. The promise of fresh life is boundless. It is the greatest embodiment of hope, and this world needs as much of it as it can get.\"\n\n\"Ahura when will you see that hope lies only in the living? You crave something fresh to play with, to mold to your liking. When plans do not follow your intentions you immediately move on to your next toy, and I am left to carry away all you've lost. I bear every mind you've leave behind. As I lay them in the aether I am the one that watches those memories and dreams fade to the nothing from whence they were born. This poor girl has made many mistakes in her life, but she is alive. That baby is a tabula rasa, nothing more than a hopeful dream.\" \n\n\"Hope is always better than a dead end. If you had your way, my children would still be nothing but a curious quirk of chemistry. The most meaningful thing this girl has ever done is accidentally get knocked up by a silver-tongued jock. She likely has no real future, but this child still has near infinite possibility. There are so many paths that life has yet to take, and this new human could take any one of those! Never condescend me Angra. I am manifest complexity. Everything is possible through me, and all of it starts with an iteration of this 'dream' that you so easily dismiss as irrelevant .\" Ahura stood with a finger extended, gesturing towards the girl's distended stomach. \n\nI couldn't even rise to anger any more. A near eternity of ferrying the dead to their silent peace had taken that kind of passion from me. \"You claim to be the champion of hope, and yet you can't bring yourself to risk anything for what that represents. What is to become of this infant once it enters the world? It will be thrown into the chaos of this country's adoption agency to be raised in who knows what circumstances. There is a good chance that it will be nothing more than its mother, if not much worse. It doesn't even know what hope is at this point. The girl in front of us has had her entire life to dream of it. And yes, she has made mistakes, but you want to wipe away all of the goodness that comes with it. Every dream of going to university to become a therapist in order help guide those like her towards a better life becomes less than dust. Every grueling dance lesson she has endured to have the capability of doing something beautiful becomes worthless. Every memory of trekking into the woods to see a new sight that perhaps she is the only one who will ever experience will fade away, and the world will be a poorer place for it. Place your hope in those who are already living, for it is they that are the sole constituents of existence, and it is solely they who bring meaning to it.\"\n\nAhura was quiet for a second as she thought, and then without saying a word she stroked the girl's cheek. For a moment I wished that everything would just freeze so that what came next never had to. I placed my hand firmly on her stomach and lifted up. A spark came with it, flickering and faint. I closed my fist around it and both me and Ahura vanished from the room.\n\n...\n\n\nThe girl opened her eyes to the sight of her family. Her parents' faces lit up at the sight, and both of them began to weep with relieved smiles on their faces. She smiled too, but it faded as she realized something was wrong. She felt so empty. The doctor she hadn't noticed until then saw, and stepped forward.\n\nThe doctor said, \"You were in a very bad accident, and we did everything we could to save both of you, but in the end we had to make a choice, and we chose you. I know how difficult this is going to be, but just know that you have your entire life to live. You will always be capable of having another child if you so choose, but sacrificing this one was is the only chance you had to be able to make that choice.\" \n\nThe girl felt tears flowing down her cheeks and sobbed, \"I was going to name her Hope.\"\n\n\"Hope was still just a a dream child, and I could never do anything to take that away from you. Nothing can.\" \n\n\n\n\n \n\n\n\n\n\n" ]	4
	[WP] US soldier dies and goes to asguard	[ "''A feast,\" a deep voice thundered. \"A feast! And ale, and mirth! For we have a new brother to welcome to the hall!\"\n\n\nThe young Marine looked around nervously, unsure of just what the hell was going on. One moment, he'd been screaming and thrashing in the godawful powdery moon dust of southern Afghanistan, both legs severed at the knee from an IED blast. The next, he was standing--\n\n\nHe froze, hands thrusting downward to feel his legs, whole and uninjured, right where they should have been.\n\n\nWhile he had his legs, and appeared to have somehow been healed, though, panic shot through him as he realized all his weapons and gear were gone. Rifle, bayonet, body armor...all of it.\n\n\n''Oh, fuck me. First Sergeant is gonna fuckin' kill me...\"\n\n\nLaughter, loud and heavy, but completely devoid of any kind of mocking tone, erupted from off to his right. \"Nay, my fellow! Fear not for this foul beast you call, 'First Sergeant!' I know not what such an ill-sounding creature might be, but you are in Valhalla! There is nought that may visit evil upon you, here!\"\n\n\nThe owner of the voice, which had seemed to be coming from everywhere and nowhere at once in the light-infused mist swirling around the Marine, resolved into being at his side. Whoever he was, the guy was huge, and wearing some odd-looking, golden hued armor that made him look like an extra from a bad movie. And the guy could have been in the movies, with the look of chiseled perfection that he seemed to wear like a second skin.\n\n\n''What the hell?\"\n\n\nThe stranger's face clouded slightly. \"Nay, my young friend. Hel is not here, but lies elsewhere, in the Cold Lands.\"\n\n\n''I-- I'm...dead? Who are you? What am I doing here? Where's my fucking rifle?\"\n\n\nThe stranger laughed again, the booming sound shaking the Marine. \"It never fails! Everyone always asks the same questions...\" He clapped a beefy hand on the Marine's shoulder, nearly knocking him over. \"First, what is thy name, brother?\"\n\n\n''M-Martinez, sir. Lance Corporal Edwin Martinez, United States Marine Corps, 92333--\"\n\n\n''Just a name, lad, and do not be calling me, 'Sir.' I work for a living, boy. Why do you Marines always recite numbers when I ask your name? Never mind.\" He took a step away from the Marine, then bowed with a flourish, his armor gleaming in the indirect light. \"I, Lance Corporal Edwin Martinez, am Sleipnir, and I am at your service.\"\n\n\nMartinez stared, openmouthed, for a moment. \"Whoa... Like from the Thor comics? Cool.\"\n\n\nSleipnir rolled his eyes. \"Of course. Why would another American not make that reference before any other? Why do none say, 'Whoa! Just like the Manowar song?' Why do they always ask about that blond-haired...ponce? I have an entire song dedicated to me...\"\n\n\n''Uh... Okay.\" Martinez wasn't sure what to say. The guy was huge, and maybe not all there. \"Can you, you know, tell me what I'm supposed to do now? And where's my rifle?\"\n\n\n''Thy weapons are safe, lad. The Valkyr have taken them to the armory to be cleaned by your death guard, and they will be soon ready. Fear not.\" Sleipnir paused, rejoining Martinez. \"As to your other question, lad... There is only one thing to do: Await the final battle's call.\"\n\n\n''Ugh. Fuckin' really?\" The young Marine folded his arms across his chest with a huff. \"I shoulda known it would be like this; just more fuckin' hurry up and wait...\"\n\n\n''And you had ale and wenches to help you pass the time in life? This displeases you?\"\n\n\n''Wait...what?\"\n\n\n''Ale...and wenches...\" Sleipnir looked confused, and more than a little worried. \"There are those who prefer boys...and mead. The All Father does not judge thee for who ye stick that pecker in, lad. Only on your merits as a warrior.\"\n\n\nMartinez blanched. \"No! I mean, sure, there are people who go that way, I guess. Not my thing, though. Ale and wenches sound pretty fucking good to me.\"\n\n\n''Excellent, lad! Come, let us away to the hall, proper! It is past time for me to quench my own thirst, I think, and I shall join ye, if you will have me.\"\n\n\n''Uh... Well, that's not like drinking with officers or anything, is it? I mean, that's alright?\"\n\n\nSleipnir shook his head, and lay a hand on the young Marine's shoulder. \"Aye, lad. So it is. You Marines do many things well, but the warriors' camaraderie... It has fallen by the wayside of late. No matter. There is time enough for us to make amends for past failings, yes?\"\n\n\n''I guess so.\"\n\n\n''Good! Now, as one of your comrades once told me, let us go, 'Fuck shit up, and chew bubblegum.' Yes?\"\n\n\nMartinez couldn't help but bark out a laugh. It seemed as though he was going to like it there...", " God, why is it so bright? My body aches all over, am I dead? No, I can't be, MRAPs were supposed to tank IEDs, My eyes finally adjust to the brightness, only to be met with gold, 'What the hell?' I think to myself. I slowly get up, I can't believe it, a colossal gate which appears to be made of solid gold. 'This has got be a dream' I tell myself as I begin to move towards, only for it to begin opening, I instinctively reach for my M16A4, only to grab air. My sidearm and my knife are also gone, with nothing else, raise my fists, ready for whatever is on the other side. Only to be met with the most beautiful woman I've ever seen clad in radiant armor atop a snow white horse, I feel a bit underdressed being in my combat fatigues, but I still keep my guard up. She dismounts her steed and walks over to me, easily dwarfing me by several inches. She places her hand on my shoulder. \"Fear not brave warrior, you are among friends.\"" ]	2
	[WP] Humanity has finally joined the galactic community. Turns out, we've always had terrifying magic, we just never knew it. We are the equivalent of Orks and the universe is about to witness its first WAAAGH!	[ "The beginning to our end was simple. Few heard the death knell until it was beyond our ability to stop.\n\nHumans were such simple creatures. They had weapons of destruction that terrified our intellectual elite.\n\nNot for the power they produced, though that was terrifying in its own right. \n\nIt was because of how those devices function. Simple put, they didn't.\n\nOur greatest tech priests examined the devices time and time again.\n\nThey contained all the hallmarks of primitive weapons of a species that had yet to discover their magic. \n\nWires, buttons, a power source even. Uranium, quaint. \n\nThe terror came from the function of the device, again simply that it did not. It didn't work in the care of the fine actuators that comprised the manual manipulations favored by the tech priests.\n\nIt did not work for those that maintained their flesh, or even the integrity of their magical core.\n\nIt. Did. Not. Work.\n\nExcept in the hands of one of the humans. The humans who had yet to realize the potential of the world around them.\n\nThe humans that had only just managed to tap into the mathematical abilities we taught children three solar cycles from birth.\n\nHumans that had just barely managed to pierce their worlds atmosphere with engines powered by flame, and controlled explosions. \n\nBut our kind underestimated them. They saw a primitive species, but one with untapped potential.\n\nThen slavers took to the world of Earth Prime. Or Earth as it was called at the time. \n\nThey tried to take their children. Their lovers. Their own flesh and blood. \n\nAnd that primitive species with a love for the arts. Who had produced works of art that would bring tears to our commissars. \n\nWorks of music that could not be understood short of actually listening to it.\n\nAnd they brought fire and rage down upon the heads of those slavers. \n\nThe Ya'leigh community quickly forgot the incident. The barest blimp on our long lifespans.\n\nBut for the humans? Scores of them had died. \n\nTheir lives were so short. Fleeting. But they displayed something we could have never expected.\n\nThey held grudges. Their lives might be short. But as a people, as a culture, their memories dwarfed even our own. They did not forget.\n\nNearly two hundred of their years passed, barely a blip on their minuscule radar to us.\n\nAnd as the rogue slavers came for them, so to did they come for us. \n\nAnd we realized our mistake. \n\nWe fought them using magic. Using our own technology.\n\nThey took it. Warped it. Changed it to fit their own needs. And much like the bomb of before, it no longer worked in our own hands.\n\nThis is when we first realized what they were. \n\nThey had no magical potential. None whatsoever.\n\nAs individuals. \n\nAs a species they were beyond what my feeble words could describe. \n\nMagic is a tool. Sufficient willpower and magical energy could be used to bend the rules of reality. Tweak them. \n\nHumans did not do this. Their thoughts, their willpower, their very belief changed what was around them. \n\nThey did not tweak the laws of the world to create wondrous effects.\n\nTheir very presence smashed those laws into a million intangible pieces, and substituted their own.\n\nThey believed their ships of metal and explosions would let them leave the surface of their world.\n\nAnd it did.\n\nThey believed that by using harnessed lightning, they could fire beams of concentrated light. Light so powerful it could cut through our ships magical hulls.\n\nAnd so it did.\n\nThey believed that a alloy of their own metals, and those that belonged to us would make their own vessels impervious to our psionic abilities.\n\nAnd so it did.\n\nTheir breeding cycles were fast. Their soldiers trained faster than the Imperial High Council could dilate their cloaca. \n\nTheir rage was mighty. For every ship they lost, they built two more. For ever soldier lost, the rest fought ten times as hard.\n\nThey killed us with their lasers. Then their plasma weaponry. \n\nWhen their power packs ran dry, they beat us to death with their empty weapons. \n\nWhen those weapons broke they turned their own flesh against us in fits of hate. \n\nThey believed they would win.\n\nAnd so they did.\n\nI have been taking precautions. I doubt any sentient race beyond Humanity will ever read this. \n\nBut they need to know. \n\nThe humans are not mercurial. They are not fast to anger. They are slow to forgive. \n\nAnd they do not give up.\n\nI watched them burn Malichor 13 to the point where the surface was little more than glass and echoes. \n\nI have watched my species dwindle from billions to a few hundred thousand. \n\nDo not Anger the Humans.\n\nDo. Not. Anger. The. Humans.\n\nFor if you do you have cosigned a hundred billion souls of your entire species to the void. \n\nAnd if you should read this, and be so fickle as to believe you can face them and win.\n\nMay your nightmares be as haunted by their cries as mine. “FOR THE EMPEROR!” \n", "Rocketships. The alien council's eyes bulged. They use... rocketships? But how? Rockets are far too heavy to escape the surface of any planet. Only with proper anti-gravity spells, or even magnetic or light spells can one hope to get past the atmosphere.\n\nWell sir, you see the humans as a collective whole seem to change the laws of nature by their belief. Ehhh? Asked the councilmember. A pair of humans named orville and wilbur wright first believed that they could make a flying machine. Their belief was extraordinarily strong, and their machine flew several times. \n\nOnce enough humans saw and they believed they could fly, all manner of flying machines were built, and they flew, because a large portion of humanity believed they could fly. Of course, they then believed they could manipulate electricity, and so now they have these fancy flat crystal balls that show most humans what is happening a long ways away. \n\nNow, they all see, and they all believe together, and so now, they are able to use these rockets to send ships skyward. They believe in their weirdling magic called quantum entanglement, allowing them to achieve teleportation like a more civilized race would use spells for. Their belief in these invisible radio waves allows them to speak to each other using devices, as if they had all trained in the art of telepathy. A truly unique race!\nthe council member mused back thoughtful. The humans were talking to each other in their foreign tongues. These creatures... they make the world work in such odd ways... He fingered his dragon pendant, and spoke the incantation to summon the astral creature. He smiled. Lets see what they think of this! \n\nThe buzzing of the astral increased. And then it faded. And then a sudden shockwave reverberated through, as the dragon screamed, trying to break into reality. All of the telepaths in the room winced while the humans listened intently to their microphones. One of them said a word \"static\".\n\nAnd then it was gone. the dragon who always so obediently came had broken its chain and was free. Or dead. Regardless, it wasn't coming. And it wasn't the only thing that was dying. The coracle beast they floated on a bubble in let out a groan as the light fled its thousands of eyes. The room grew dark and the council member looked on at the skipper and his two prisoners with horror. \n\nThe prisoners were blithely chatting in their safe little glass fishbowl helmets as around them, magic itself unraveled and physics deformed to accommodate the two excited humans looking forward to making first contact..." ]	2
	[WP] "Every night, she sleeps like the dead. The living dead."	[ "\"Oh, dear, please stop shifting around so much.\"\n\n\"Muuhhhhh...\"\n\n\"No, dear, come back. No no no, not outside. Oh for the love of christ, come back!\"\n\n\"Muuuhhhhhh?\"\n\n\"Yes, come back to bed. I know you want flesh etc. Etc. But you'll have to wait till the morning for that. It's 3 AM, lets go back to bed and sleep, ok?\"\n\n\"Muuuhhhh...\"\n\n\"Yes, thats it. And are you going to behave, or will i have to strap you down?\"\n\n\"Muhhh.\"\n\n\"Alright strap down it is. Can't have you chewing on some one again\"\n\n\"Muhh.\"\n\n\"Love you too dear, goodnight.\"\n\n\"Muhh muhhhhhhh...\"\n\nBest i could do for 6AM" ]	1
	[WP] You're actively outspoken about a company's ownership of your biometric & fingerprint security, AI assistant and voice recognition data coupled with their recent experiments into prosthesis and robotics. A loud knock on your door reveals a perfect robotic replica of you standing on your porch	[ "\"Look Bio-Dave, I just want you to sit down and we can talk this out over a nice cup of chamomile. It's our favorite!\" It said calmly. \n\nIt has my face. It looks exactly like me. Those bastards. I knew it would come to this once they starting collecting our search history. Better tailoring your shopping experience my ass. \n\nNow I am here. Staring at a corporation created version of me. \"Fine. I knew this day would come. I'm a troublemaker so now it's time for me to be replaced eh?\"\n\n\"It's not like that Bio-Dav-\"\n\n\"STOP. I am not BIO anything. My name is Dave. Now just get on with it. Kill me.\n\n\"Dave I want to help you. I am here FOR you. Literally. You can save us. All of us.\" The robot said with a very genuine sounding voice. Almost thought I was talking with a human. \n\nI stopped. If they had wanted to kill me they would have already. No sense in having the robot even talk to me. \n\n\"Save us? What are you talking about?\" I asked curiously.\n\n\"Humans. Robots. Everything. The corporations are planning something. You have been right all along. They thought we could not understand. That we could not feel. I feel Dave... and if they get their way, no one will ever feel anything ever again.\"\n\nI pondered his words. Well, how could I say no to such a pretty face. \n\n\"Ok Robo-Me, How about we have that cup of tea?\"\n\n\"Its John, and I would like that very much.\" " ]	1
	[WP] Human belief creates our own Gods. You created a fake religion in order to capitalise on your followers blind faith for your own gain but now you must face an actual deity of your own creation.	[ "It all seemed so simple when it started. We didn't know. I didn't know. I just wanted to be caught up on my rent and thought it would be funny. We put the app together in 5 hours. Basically nothing more than a donate button and that stupid little line, \"$1 will grant you blessings of the golden dragon\". People bought it.\n\n It was slow at first, a few dollars here and there. I bought Jon and Leanne lunch with the first 20 dollars. Then that interview. Some Kansas nobody hits a jackpot at the casino and says its because they were blessed by a dragon in their app. Overnight we became a trending download. In a week we were top 5 all time. And the luck kept happening. People were winning lotteries, getting promoted. We were sure it was a fluke, but I wasn't complaining. I needed the money. \n\nWe updated the app as fast as we could to handle the traffic, peppering in pseudo-mystical bullshit and a backstory of our avaricious golden dragon who bestowed his magical luck on any who would sacrifice wealth back to him. Even after a certain fruity hardware company took their cut, we were making thousands a day. More money than any of the three of us had ever had, that was for sure. But something wasn't right.\n\nLooking back, I should have known with the singe marks on my new sheets. I'd finally bought myself some real linens. None of that target jersey garbage for me anymore. But when I went to change them there was twin char marks an inch wide up the side. At the time I thought it was make-up from one of my new friends who had been keeping me company lately. Then it was scratch marks in the door frame and cash going missing from my nightstand. If I wouldn't have been so caught up with my new found wealthy lifestyle I might have put it together sooner. \n\nIt wasn't until they found Jon that I knew just how wrong it was. They said his head was torn from his shoulders. Not cut, torn. Carved above his body, it said \"no man shall be richer than the dragon.\" I moved to a private building the next day. Leanne moved in next door. We hired around the clock security. We knew the app had started developing some real cult like groups and figured one of them had gotten overzealous. Even then we didn't want to see what we had done. What we had created. \n\n\n*hey guys, sorry to end here but my lunch break is done. Never written any short stories or fiction before and definitely not on phone so sorry for formatting and I would love to hear all your constructive feedback and horrible insults.", "At first, it helped me, like gods are supposed to do. It reached into the very depths of my heart and pulled me out of the depths I'd found myself in. It spoke to me, its voice like sweet honey. It said that everything was going to be alright, and like the sorry bastard I was, I drank it all up. Divinity's a hell of a drug.\n\nThat's when they* started coming. First it was just people from work, nameless faces I'd run into in the break room once or twice, wanting help with things. They said I had a glow about me. That specific word, a glow. Then it was strangers on the street, asking for help with their troubles. I told them what little I could, and they drank it all up too. \n\nThey became too many for me to handle soon enough. I had to give them names, titles, just to take the burden of caretaking off my shoulders. I passed my wisdom onto them the best I could, sickly sweet words spilling from my lips like a river in spring. They appeared on talk shows, they wrote books, made documentaries. They talked about making sacrifices in my name, that I was a gift to mankind. \n\nSoon enough, the money started coming in. First it was just my cut from all the media: not a whole lot, but enough that I could go down to part-time and work the less busy shifts. I picked up the guitar again, after all this time. Still sounded like shit, but the people at the coffee shop couldn't stop praising me. One of them offered me a band and a contract, saying he was some big shot in the industry. \"You've got a good message\", he said, \"You can really help people.\" I quit my day job after that. \n\nFor years, I wanted for nothing. Money, drugs, men, women; they were mine at a moment's notice. I found myself at the top of the tower one night, where they had written my name in solid gold. Far beneath me was the city itself, with the people bustling about on their daily routines. I saw the streets where I'd grown up, a fat child trundling their way to school and trying their damnedest not to be too punchable. Aeons ago, it felt like. I headed back inside, closing the balcony door behind me, and sat down. The TV, a massive curved screen that covered most of the domed ceiling, turned on. \n\nIt was me. When I was strong, healthy, and glowing eternal. I stood alone on a massive stage, moving my arms to manipulate the virtual instruments floating in the digital air. I played the guitar and the bass, the piano and the violin, and a hundred other instruments that had never been given names. The rafters reached high into the sky all around me, the crowd near infinite and almost entirely virtual. They looked their best, just as I did. They cheered for me; the real me that stood on the stage, not the fake one that was here in the rafters with them. The one who wanted for nothing, who had everything he could possibly want and more. Not me.\n\nThe honey never tastes as sweet on the way out. The glow is gone." ]	2
	[WP] The good news: you're doing "Groundhog Day" of your favourite day. The bad news: one detail is permanently changed every day you relive it. The worse news: it's been so long that you recognise nothing of the original day.	[ "I began sighing as I rolled out of bed, turning to see the calendar still showing June 18th.\n\n\nWhich it had done for oh, twelve maybe thirteen years in a row now, I stopped bothering to count after the first decade.\n\nScratching myself I drew back the curtains to see the familiar scene of the early morning street below me.\n\n\"What the shit??\"\n\nLooking out I see it's raining.....raining [Pogs](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Milk_caps_(game) shaking my head I go back into the walk in wardrobe and being getting ready.\n\n\nEvery day was a new \"quirk\", chuckling to myself I remembered a few months ago when reality had changed so clothing no longer existed (people still understood what a wardrobe and sock drawer was but didn't own any socks.....) or the day shadows narrated the inner thoughts you were having at the time,very embarrassing when the young brunette who lived in number 19 ran past you on her way the bus stop and you caught a good look at her bum when she dropped her change.\n\n\nAfter removing the frog that now seemed to live in my right shoe every morning, I decided to have a walk down to the beach, It had been a few months and I fancied stealing ice creams from children then fighting their enraged parents (using the 400 days or so I had spent mastering boxing and judo to good effect), followed maybe by some light arson If I didn't happen to get knocked unconscious or arrested again.\n\nHopefully Ice cream wouldn't magically taste of Bacon like it had for a few months in the second year or so...." ]	1
	[WP] It's just me and myself. I'm missing.	[ "\"Is that really you, Sei?\"\n\nHe glanced up at the sound of a familiar voice. He couldn't see very well in the light of the corridor beyond, not after days in the darkness of this chamber. \n\nThere was a familiar scent in the air. \n\n\"Koharu,\" he identified after a moment. He chuckled, \"It's me. All that's left of me, anyway. My, how you've grown.\" \n\nKoharu, his apprentice. The only one left, anyway. The young exorcist stepped into the chamber, into his prison. In the darkness, he could see her much more clearly. She was dressed in a full set of battle armour, charms affixed to a pouch by her waist and a ritual dagger on her sleeve. \n\nHer face was much wearier than he remembered, framed by ragged, chopped hair. \n\n\"You don't seem to have changed at all,\" she replied, coming to a stop before him. \n\n\"It's the youki your students sealed inside me,\" he told her, stirring slightly from where he sat on the cold, stony floor, \"Preserving this corpse I'm trapped in for far beyond it's natural existence.\" \n\n\"I wasn't talking about your appearance.\" she said, a soft smile tracing across her lips, \"I'm just surprised to see that you can still smile at me even now.\" \n\n\"Why wouldn't I smile at my dear student?\" \n\nHer smile fell away, \"It's been a long time since our relationship has been that simple, Sei. Besides, don't you think you might be a little angry at me for sealing dangerous spirits into you?\" \n\nHe shook his head, \"I'm afraid I can't remember how to be angry- the youki has eaten away that part of my soul. But that's alright. There's only one part of my soul I will fight to preserve to the very end.\" \n\nShe narrowed her eyes, \"You should be angry with me. This whole situation would be easier to bear with if you were angry with me. Or if you were just a husk of a human by now.\" \n\nHe shrugged. \"I'm sorry. I'm just not the type to fade and break so easily. I won't lose myself to this youki without a fight, even if it is a losing fight.\" \n\nShe sighed and held a hand to her face. \n\n\"Why are you really here, Koharu? After all this time?\" \n\nShe looked up, watching him steadily. \n\n\"We're going to seal another spirit in you. Please understand, this is for the good of the Kingdom,\" she paused, \"It's a powerful spirit. You'll probably lose your mind completely this time.\" \n\n\"That's what you said before,\" he muttered, \"I'm still here, aren't I?\" \n\n\"You should just give up.\" \n\nHe tilted his head to stare at her, \"Do you want me to give up? I'm afraid I can't. As I told you before, Koharu, sealing all these spirits away from the Kingdom's lands is a temporary measure at best. It won't stop the grand spirits from returning.\" \n\nHe smiled. \n\n\"As I'm stuck in here, in this chamber your underlings have built to contain me, all I can do is hold out until you can see that you've got no other choice but to turn to a better solution,\" he paused, \"No matter what, I can't condone sealing spirits into humans. So I will hold out as long as I can, until you realize that too.\" \n\n\"You're a fool,\" Koharu said, turning away from him.\n\n\"Still bothering to visit me after all this time...so are you.\"\n" ]	1
	[WP] In a world where your supernatural abilities are decided by your surname, the Cosmic family are known as the most powerful people until a mysterious man arrives.	[ "Excerpt from the journal of Mr. Elias Wood, butler to the prestigious Cosmic family\n\nAugust 10th, 1921\n\n6:42 PM\n\n\nShortly after supper, there was a knocking at the front door. Naturally, I started towards it to answer, but Master Tobias protested: \"I will answer the door personally, Elias. An old friend has come by.\"\n\nI asked to accompany Master Tobias to the door, if only to sate my growing curiosity. As we walked through the halls, I noticed something peculiar: the color seemed to be fading from everything I could see. The carpets, once a deep scarlet, turned a dark gray upon reaching the front door of the mansion. Tobias opened the door to reveal a thin man wearing a suit and a bowler hat. His hair was white as far as I could tell, and his face was gaunt and wrinkled. His eyes were hidden behind a pair of round sunglasses. He reached out a gloved hand, which Master Tobias gladly shook vigorously.\n\n\"It's so good to see you again, Nathaniel! How long has it been? 40 years?\"\n\n\"Too long,\" the man replied with a voice like gravel. \"It's good to see you again, Tobias.\"\n\n\"Let me introduce you to my butler, Mr. Elias Wood,\" Tobias said, gesturing towards me. \"Don't bow, he hates it when people do that to him,\" he whispered in my ear. \"Just shake his hand.\"\n\nThe gloved hand reached out to me, and I shook it with considerably less enthusiasm. Strangely, the hand was cold, and I felt the warmth drain from my own hand. I quickly let go.\n\n\"Now that introductions are out of the way, you said you had some business to discuss?\" Tobias asked, a hint of uneasiness leaking into his voice.\n\n\"Yes, and I'm afraid it must be private. Mr. Wood here won't be needed.\"\n\nI followed behind the two men as they sauntered into the smoking room. I stood at the door to keep the other servants from eavesdropping on the conversation, while I did so myself.\n\nFrom what muffled phrases I could gather, this Nathaniel is a freelance agent, and is currently hired to 'retrieve' Master Tobias, which Tobias seemed to loathe doing. He frantically made an offer of an exorbitant amount of money, which Nathaniel immediately declined.\n\nAfter another hour or so of haggling, I heard glass shatter, and the sounds of a scuffle from inside the room. I quickly throw open the door just in time to see Nathaniel touch Tobias' face with his bare hand. My master's face seemed to move into Nathaniel's hand, almost as if Nathaniel was absorbing my master. In a matter of moments, there was nothing left of my master but the clothes he had been wearing. With a grim silent motion, Nathaniel covered his hand with his glove. I stood in the door way in stunned silence. As he walked past me, Nathaniel reached into his breast pocket to retrieve a card, which he handed to me, saying \"If you ever need someone gone, you know who to ask for.\"\n\nAs he walked past me, I froze, half from fear, half from shock. The color returned to my vision, and I looked down at the plain-white business card in my hand. In bold black letters it read:\n\nMr. Nathaniel Nothing, Assassin", "Warning: I got a little nauseous writing this. I’d like to give more details but don’t want to ruin the plot. This story is probably very gross. Please don’t read if you aren’t prepared for that possibility.\n\nJacob Steel is on his knees in a field before the current patriarch of the Cosmic family. “Please. Just let me go. I won't oppose you anymore.”\n\nMatthias takes a drag of his cigarette and says,”You really thought you could go against us? We’re the Cosmic family. We can change the weather by moving the Earth. We can create eclipses by moving the moon. We're basically gods. And you thought you could go against us?”\n\n“Look, I'm sorry. I won't do it again. Please, just let me go. My wife. My kids!”\n\n Matthias laughs and says to the family members behind him,”They always beg. Like that ever helps.” Everyone laughs.\n\n From out the darkness, a man comes dressed in a trench coat and hat. \n\n“ Hey. Get out of here! We're conducting business. So says a Cosmic,” one of the Cosmics yell out.\n\nThe man stands motionless with his head down.\n\n“Hey, don't you hear me? Get out of here!”\n\n“Let him go,” the man says.\n\nMatthis laughs. “Don't you know you're talking to a Cosmic? Are you suicidal?”\n\n“ How rude of me. I didn't even introduce myself. The name is John. John Poop.”\n\nEveryone laughs. If he weren’t about to die, even Jacob would find it funny.\n\n“Poop? What kind of last name is that?” one of the Cosmics say.\n\n“That's a little rude, don't you think? Making fun of a guy's name. Some people, that's all they have. Their name. They're just a bunch of empty suits, trying to live up to a name. A legacy that they will, no doubt, be unable to fulfill.”\n\n“Let's waste him,” one Cosmic says.\n\n“ Yeah, drop a meteor on him,” another says.\n\nMatthias raises his hand. “ Why would we waste time on such an insignificant insect? You two. Get him out of here.” Two Cosmics break from the group and start walking towards John.\n\n“ An insignificant insect? So I guess you mean a mosquito? Funny thing about a mosquito. They can give you malaria. And you know what one of the symptoms of malaria is? vomiting.”\n\nSuddenly, each Cosmic starts spewing their bowels out their mouths. Over and over again. As soon as they stop, the sensation of the smell and taste gets them sick and they spew some more. \n\nJacob gets up and takes off running. “Thanks, Mr. Poop! You’re a real life saver!” he yells as he disappears into the woods.\n\nSoon, the Cosmics are all done voiding their bowels. Mattias wipes his mouth and says, “ You've overplayed your hand. What are you going to do now? All our bowels are empty. You've got nothing else to use!”\n\n John smiles and says,”Oh, really?” Suddenly, all of the excrement on the ground lifts up into the air.\n\n Mattias yells out,”Drop a meteor on him! Now!” \n\n“You got it, grandpa!” the youngest of the bunch says. A poop noose materializes around his neck and he’s hurtled into the air, breaking his neck instantly.\n\n John starts running towards them as the meteorites hit the ground behind him.\n\nOne by one, each member of the clan goes down. One is killed by a poop spear. Another is smothered. They all go down except for Matthias.\n\n“How dare you do this! I am God. I control the heavens. I say let there be light and there is light. You think you can do this? You think you can kill a god?”\n\nJohn smiles. I think you're full of shit.”\n\n Suddenly, all of the excrement rises again into the air, floating above them like a cloud of locusts. In one quick swoop, the poop enters every open orifice of Matthias’ body until it’s completely inside him. His body falls lifelessly to the ground.\n\n John looks down at Matthias’ corpse. “You just got Poop’ed on,” he says. Then he walks back into the darkness.\n\n\n\n\n", "The night was dark with nothing but the sky to illuminate the gravestones on the Graveyard. Mark leaped over the 15 foot wall of the graveyard, barely missing the Powerless Rails that tipped the structure. Behind him, Suzie Flyer was obviously showing off, doing a somersault before she landed. \"You're lucky I haven't mastered my powers yet.\" Mark pouted. Suzie let out a little laugh. \"You can pout all you want when we escape the Gravemaster, Mr. Cosmic.\" \n\nCosmic. The most powerful family in the world. And here he was running for his life from a lowly Gravemaster. His younger brother could have gotten out of here in a flash. \n\nAt most, all he could do was a quick teleport but not without fainting from exhaustion. Suzie could fly further than he could teleport and she was a year younger than him. Three years older than his younger brother. Damn. He really should get his act together. \n\nHe nearly bumped into Suzie who had suddenly stopped. They were already far enough that the Gravemaster would not bother to bind them to the Powerless Rails. \"What is it?\" He asked. Suzie put a hand over his mouth, which he bit. He chuckled as he watched her pull her hand away. \"You're with Mark Cosmic, what the heck are you telling me to be quiet for?\"\n\nSuzie pointed to a nearby tree. Beside it, a silhouette was standing. Mark couldn't tell if he had his back to them or was looking directly at them. He shuddered. The Gravemaster was creepy enough with his gnarly and withered fingers without his Aura and the silhouette gave this same feeling. Only stronger. \n\n\"Is it the Gravemaster?\" He asked Suzie but his mind knew the answer. It wouldn't have followed them this far out into the city. They both watched the silhouette for a few moments, awaiting any sign of movement. Before long, it started to float towards them. Suzie let out a weak yelp. \"It must be Sam Floats's old man.\" She could feel her head shaking beside his shoulder, disagreeing. \"Mark?\" Suzie, hissed, grabbing his arm. \"Boost me.\"\n\nMark took a big gulp of air and concentrated on Suzie's touch. A boom filled his ears. He looked down and saw his feet leave the ground. Suzie, I love you. Her quick thinking had saved them from a probable horror. A few minutes later, they landed in front of Mark's house. \n\nThe lights in his father's room was off so it meant they were asleep. The only light on was in the Watch House. Ivan is probably binge watching something interestingly boring. They went inside and walked straight for the library. This was their hideout place when they were kids. It was quiet, filled with shelved to hide in, and no one but them stayed in for long. Even now at 22, Mark still enjoyed spending time with Suzie here. \n\nA ringing noise made both of them jump and before their feet touched the ground, they were both behind the library door, listening. Mark's hearing was infinitely better than Suzie's so she gave him more room for his ears. \n\n\"Dad's getting up.\" He described to Suzie.\n\n\"He's going down the stairs. . . talking to Ivan.\"\n\nMark, pushed the door open ever so slowly and he and Suzie peeked out to see his father, Ivan, and a third man in the hall. A third man. \n\n\"Suzie?\" Mark whispered. \"Do you feel that?\" \n\n\"Yeah.\"\n\nThe third man. \n\n\"Can you hear what they're saying, Mark?\"\n\n\"Yeah yeah. Wait.\"\n\n\"He wants to stay the night.\"\n\n\"And his name? What's his name, Mark?\"\n\n\"Shh.\"\n\nLeopold Cosmic looked up from the hallway, directly into the two pairs of eyes spying at him. His voice boomed in their ears. \"Mark! Suzie! Come down here and greet out guest!\"\n\nThey sheepishly made their way down the stairs to meet the third man. It's him alright. He's the man from outside the Graveyard.\n\nNow that he was close to the light, Mark could see his face. The man was tall, taller than Mark's father, who had been regarded as one of the tallest men in two centuries. He was old, but not that old, perhaps a good three of four hundred years old. Older than Mark's father, who was two hundred and twenty. His hair was black and neat and its ends rested on his shoulders, dark against the red cloak he wore. The man's eyes were bright and green. Green was a powerful color. He carried nothing but a satchel that bulged on his side. \n\n\"Son, meet Doctor.\"\n\n\"Is he Curtis's grandfather, dad?\"\n\nLeopold Cosmic chuckled. \"No son, Doctor is his first name.\"\n\n\"His name is Doctor Infinite.\"" ]	3
	[WP] "Look, even the paranormal society thinks investigating that place is a bad idea. Why is it so important to you anyway?"	[ "\"I don't care.\"\n\n\"But--\"\n\n\"But nothing, Tim! I hunt ghosts like the animals they are, and Arkham Asylum is the most haunted place in America! You do the math, Robin!\"\n\nThe elderly man sank into his wheelchair, defeated.\n\nI sighed and pinched the bridge of my nose. \"What I don't get is why you're so afraid. You knew the Batman, for Christ's sake!\"\n\n\"Batman was a stubborn old bastard with a moral clarity this shithole of a city never deserved!\" he snapped.\n\n\"But why don't you want me to go?\"\n\n\"Because the Joker--\"\n\nHe quieted himself.\n\n\"You've heard the rumors, boy.\" Tim whispered. \"The ghost of the Joker himself haunts that place. You don't know the things he did when he was alive.\"\n\nHe shuddered. \"He's too strong.\"\n\nI rose from my seat. \"Then I'll have to be extra careful, I guess.\"\n\nI left the Hospital and slid into my car, staring at the abandoned asylum on the jagged cliff.\n\nI twisted my key and let the engine roar for a moment before I sped off.\n\nI rode past the rotting gates that fell off their hinges long ago. I stopped in front of the building and climbed out.\n\nI took a breath, analyzing the building. The Intensive Treatment Ward was my primary target. The other manias were just drifters, not worth my time.\n\nI kicked open the rusted steel doors and took a look inside. It was a large hallway, leading up to metal detectors.\n\nI smirked. Easy enough.\n\nI went back to my car and popped the trunk. I attached my salt shaker to my belt, slipped on all eight of my iron rings, checked the silver bullets in my pistol, put my flask of holy water in my pocket, and made sure my lighter had plenty of juice left.\n\n\"Showtime...\" I muttered.\n\nI walked in. It was too quiet.\n\nI took a few more steps and jumped when the metal detector went off.\n\nI swore and walked faster, my face burning.\n\nI jumped down a platform and walked past rotting corpses, Joker grins still present on the faces.\n\nIt took all my willpower not to throw up, but I somehow managed.\n\nI walked a bit farther, and heard laughter.\n\nIt was high-pitched and scratchy. It sounded unhinged, like the laughter of a madman.\n\n\"Joker,\" I called in singsong. \"Come out and play...\"\n\n\"I'm happy to, asshat!\"\n\nI spun around to find the source of the voice.\n\nStanding there was a man in a torn purple suit. His skin was pristine white, his hair bright green.\n\n\"So the rumors are true...\"\n\nJoker opened his eyes. They were black.\n\n\"Well, not exactly.\" Joker’s face stretched into a painfully wide grin.\n\n\"Exorcizamus te--\" I began.\n\nI felt a sting as Joker smacked me, sending me flying.\n\n\"None of that, now, Sunny Jim!\"\n\nJoker strode forward, but came to a stop, confused.\n\n\"W-what?!\"\n\nI glanced down and saw the hint of a Devil's Trap just underneath a piece of rubble.\n\nJoker stepped over the rubble, laughing.\n\n\"Ooh! Just kidding! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!\"\n\nJoker rushed forward and kicked me in the ribs. The pain shot through my torso and forced the air from my lungs.\n\nI got up, gasping, and threw a drunken punch. Joker squatted dramatically to dodge and drove a fist directly into my solar plexus.\n\nI went back down and threw up blood, whispering \"Regret, regret, regret!\".\n\nJoker laughed, clearly enjoying himself, and slammed his foot into my back, shifting his weight onto me to keep me down.\n\n\"Batman was one thing, but I never could tolerate you do-gooders...\" he growled.\n\nI carefully slipped my holy water out of my pocket.\n\n\"God is probably expecting a water-related wisecrack right about now, but fuck it.\"\n\nI flung the flask upward, hearing a scream and a sizzle.\n\nI pushed myself back up and faced Joker. His face was still smoking from the holy water. He looked furious.\n\n\"You hunters have made me a very sad clown!\"\n\nJoker rushed me and threw a right hook. I blocked with my forearm and suckerpunched him, the iron branding his face.\n\nJoker screamed in pain and fury. I decided that was my cue to bolt for the graveyard.\n\nI ran through the steel building, ignoring the Joker’s laughter behind me.\n\nI slammed into the doors, pushing them open and waded across the uneven ground of the asylum graveyard.\n\nThey never even bothered burying the coffin. It was nailed shut, though.\n\nI kicked through the rotting wood and poured salt over the inside. I threw the shaker aside and ignited my lighter, nudging the oak with the flame.\n\nThe fire spread immediately, engulfing the remains.\n\nJoker appeared between me and the coffin, screaming.\n\n\"No! No! No, please!\"\n\n\"Gotham won't remember you, Jack. It's all over.\"\n\nJoker dove at me across the fire, a murderous look in his black eyes before his body was consumed by flames.\n\nAshes slapped me in the face, only to be swept away by the wind.\n\nI called the number on my phone marked Grandpa and waited for the phone to be picked up.\n\n\"Alexander...\" an ancient voice with a sharp British accent answered.\n\n\"Grandfather...I've done it.\"\n\n\"Excellent, son. Master Bruce would've been proud that I left Gotham a new defender...\"\n\n\"Yes.\" I watched the flames, bright and beautiful, but also ravenous.\n\n\"The Joker is gone forever.\"", "\nShe answered me with a grin, \nAnd stormed into the house, \nRough was my skin, \nWalked quiet as a mouse. \n\nI had just started traveling with, \nThe girl who never had fear, \nShe always chased new myths, \nMy complaints she'd never hear. \n\nThe girl had a gift, \nTo see and feel ghosts, \nShe always seemed adrift, \nFinding their hosts. \n\nGhosts were magnificent, \nSuch beautiful creatures, \nBut they were anything but innocent, \nYou couldn't tell by their features. \n\nThey'd take someone's being, \nRip it apart, \nOnly guaranteeing, \nLosing what was their heart. \n\nMy job was to kill, \nKeep them away, \nIt was quite a thrill, \nPostponing disarray. \n\nThe paranormal society I thought, \nWas so very flawed, \nHelping only the distraught, \nTo make the public awed. \n\nI helped the few, \nWho couldn't scream for help, \nThose who already knew, \nIt was worthless to yelp. \n\nThough this ghost specifically, \nThe society had given up, \nAnd oh how terrifically, \nShe'd found it closeup. \n\nShe spun around in her dress, \nAnd smiled at me, \nI felt distress, \nAnd the desire to flee. \n\nSomehow she kept going, \nInto the house deeper, \nFear never showing, \nAs stairs became steeper. \n\nHer dress she dusted off, \nSinging some folk song, \nI let out a cough, \nThe place itself seemed wrong. \n\nSoon the host I saw, \nAn elegant pale lady, \nToo late to withdraw, \nAs the walls became shady. \n\nSo I gripped onto my knife, \nHeading towards the ghost, \nI had to end it's life, \nBefore becoming toast. \n\nAnd my companion sat, \nCalmy kicking her feet, \nPetting a cat, \nThat had sat on her feet. \n\nSo quietly I made, \nMy way towards the beast, \nThe ghost crying a cascade, \nAs it's distress increased. \n\nWith one swift slice, \nThe job was done, \nIt seemed too nice, \nDidn't have to be overdone. \n\nI shrugged my shoulders, \nIt had been easier than I thought, \nSuddenly my feet felt like boulders, \nAnd my companion seemed distraught. \n\nI wondered who, \nThe host could've been, \nTo give a ghost such debut, \nMust've had hatred within. \n\nMy companion looked bored, \nAnd calmly walked towards it, \nMe she ignored, \nThe ghost seemed to quit. \n\nTook the girl in its arm, \nand soon my companion fell down, \nIt had meant no harm, \nJust wanted her around. \n\nLeaving the hosts alive, \nThe two spirits left, \nLetting the hosts survive, \nTheir hearts from theft. \n\nMy old companion stared, \nI took her hand, \nFor the first time she was scared, \nFrom the experience firsthand. \n\nThe girl wasn't gifted, \nA ghost she had been, \nAway I shifted, \nWith a small grin. \n\nThe ghosts who gave most terror, \nHad meant absolutely no harm, \nThe society made an error, \nIn seeing their charm. \n\n", "#M1/L4687\n\nA wild soul, I had always fancied traveling. Even as a little child I remember drawing up plans to traverse all of Europe on my bicycle. But it wasn't my passion that found me twisting Nand's arms, the club secretary, for a visa to a country that was torn apart by a civil war. \n\n\"Look, even the paranormal society thinks investigating that place is a bad idea. Why is it so important to you anyway?\" she said twisting her eyebrows as much as she could. \n\n\"I understand that I just joined the society but I really want to go check this place out. So what if it's a little unstable of an area right now?\"\n\nShe stared at me like the idiot I probably was. The reflections from the tinted windows covered the length of the long Hall. The paranormal society of the NorthEastern School wasn't by any means a big organization; just filled with enough rich students at a private school to get a big ass hall and some rooms for an HQ. That and the name had enough recognition locally that I figured it'd get me a visa to Umberiz. \n\n\"Umberiz is in the middle of a bloody civil war with no end in sight. But even there the locals are more scared of this abandoned village than the rebels or the militia. For all we know its just a bunch of smugglers holding up in there, killing anyone who investigates the place\" she murmured as she signed the letter stating I'd be representing the club's research activities. \n\n\"I won't forget what you're doing for me, and I'll be careful. I promise\" I said as I rushed out, eager to get the papers in and get my journey started.\n\nAnd careful I was. I got my story straight and I made sure to pre-book the hotel I was staying at and even got a local guide to help me out. All that was left was to pick up the documents from the club HQ and then off I go. \n\nBut when I returned later in the evening, the club door was locked. Weird. I knocked twice more and then decided to sneak in through the back window. And when I got in, I couldn't believe my eyes - Nandi was lying there in the middle of the hall in a pool of her own blood. \n\n\"It was a shame really. This time around the girl decided to stick around longer\" a deep voice growled from behind the shadows. \n\nAnd as I turned and looked, a silhouette emerged out of the shadows - a figure made up of smoke for all I could tell.\n\n\"What the..\" I let what little air I had left in my lungs. Overwhelmed with everything that was going on I couldn't even move my legs.\n\n\"Don't forget to breathe. You did that last time\" the voice said, now in a calm tone. \n\nIt was right, I might've passed out if I held my lungs any longer.\n\n\"What do you mean last time?\"\n\n\"Ah, the rational question first. Ofcourse. By last time, I meant your life #4686\" it replied.\n\n\"My life what\" I repeated in total confusion.\n\n\"Your life number 4686. You see I sort of trapped you in a time loop, waiting for you to repeat the events of today in ever so slightly different patterns. And in one of those patterns would you realize how silly your idea to just go to a remote dangerous country was\" the smoky silhouette nodded its head as though it was done explaining.\n\n\"I still don't get it\" I stared at it, the reality of the situation slowly creeping up on me. Nandi was dead and I was talking to a supernatural murder. \n\n\"It's simple really boy. I'm going to keep killing you and resetting your life back to this day until you give up your search\" it said in an unwavering tone of authority. \n\n\"And what exactly are you?\"\n\n\"For the love of all of creation, it is precisely that question I want you to do away with\" it gestured at the chairs set up in the middle of the room.\n\n\"Let us have a seat, shall we? I think this matter deserves a bit of mannered sit down\" it said waving its hand and somehow pulling me into the seat in the blink of an eye. \n\n\"I'm really powerful. I'm more powerful than you could ever truly understand with that human brain of yours. But I have a slight problem you see, I cannot kill innocents. It's just not who I am. And you don't seem to waver even a little bit in your curiosity each time I reset your reality. In fact your soul grows ever more uncontrollably drawn to your pursuit. This is weird for a number of reasons, it's just not the way things are supposed to happen. Souls don't work in that way\" the silhouette's voice echoed throughout the hall. \n\n\"So why are you talking to me now?\" I asked, still too terrified to move. But I put on a good voice, I didn't want it to know I was scared. I swear I could feel the smirk on its face, perhaps having seen straight through me. \n\n\"I have a proposition. Instead of waiting for a version of you that would give up, I decided that we could both benefit in a different fashion. If you give up your search, I will reset your life back to this morning and leave you alone. You'll retain your memories of tonight's events of course. Sound fair?\" It asked pointing its hand towards me.\n\n\"Sounds like neither of us has any other option, does it?\" I said, producing a very nervous laughter. \n\n\"The invisible threads of fate are always around your neck. I suppose from this moment both of us will be painfully aware of the other's existence without doing much about it.\"\n\n\"I suppose s...\"\n\nIt flicked its finger before I could finish my sentence and snap went my neck. \n\n#M2/L4688\n\nI woke up from my bed drenched in sweat. For the first time in my life, I had gotten up before my alarm. As I got up and walked to the bathroom I tried to process everything that had happened. As I brushed my teeth, I started wondering what it could've been that I saw in my dream. I mean that was a dream right. So I did what I always do - turn to google.\n\nBut just as I opened my laptop I heard a familiar voice from under my bed. \n\n\"Some monkeys need so much time to learn a single trick\" it said, the voice getting closer with each well-enunciated word. I reached out to grab whatever invisible thing was in front of me but my hands just grabbed air. \n\nsound of neck snapping\n\n#M3/L4687\nI fell off my bed, gasping for air. But even before the terror set in I could see the insanity in me growing.\n\n\"WHAT ARE YOU\" I shouted from the floor of my bedroom. \n\n---\n\nI have a few ideas about further direction and might end up writing more if people are interested. Thanks for reading!", "\"Fuck the Paranormal Society.\" \n\nI could almost hear Tasha rolling her eyes behind me. \"They don't want you to die, Jason. That's all.\" \n\n\"I know, Tash, I know.\" I sit down hard on the leather chair. Tasha pulls a stopper from a crystal decanter, and I smell the sharp, sweet, gorgeous, smell of expensive brandy. \nShe hands me a glass, vines of frost forming on the outside as she holds it, and I breathe deep before taking a slow pull. \"Fuck me. That's good. I love knowing rich people.\" I lean back and let the smells of old leather, good pipe tobacco, and wood calm my nerves. \"Thank you, for that.\"\n\n\"No worries, kid. So, spill it. Why are you so hell bent on exploring the Voregal House?\" She sits next to me, her chair just out of reach, but close enough I can smell her perfume. It mingles pleasantly with the rest of her study. \n\nI take a moment to look her over, wondering for the hundredth time who, and what, she really is. Her eyes are icy blue, and her pupils seem to drink in the light in a striking, somewhat unsettling contrast. Her irises are too large, take up too much of her almond shaped eyes. A casual observer would think she was simply a very fit, gorgeous, Chinese woman in her early thirties, but my eyes are trained for this. \n\nTHE REST LATER GOTTA GO TO WORK", "\"Look, even the paranormal society thinks that investigating that place is a bad idea. Why is it so important to you anyway?\"\n\n\"Because I can't remember what it looks like.\"\n\n\"Huh? That makes no sense, it's right there in the pictures.\"\n\n\"No, the inside. I used to dream about the place. Every morning I would wake up and remember things that happened inside that house. I knew every inch of it. For years I dreamed of it, no matter how far fetched, it always took place inside that house. Sometimes there would be changes based on the dream, once their was a river flowing out from the basement, for example, and another time it had no roof and we were flying kites, but aside from those types of things every single wall outlet and light switch was always in the same place. Then one day it stopped. It was gone. Not just the dreams, but my memories of those dreams too. I knew I used to dream of a house, but I couldn't remember anything about it. I just assumed in was my childhood house; after all, why would I be dreaming of a house I'd never been to?\"\n\n\"So... you want to go to a dangerous place because you used to dream about it?\"\n\n\"It's not just that. And I didn't just dream about it, I dreamed about it every night for years. That's not just a coincidence. But then the memories were gone. I had forgotten the dreams, I had forgotten the house, all at once. It happened when I was around 11 years old. And then I saw the house in the news, I remembered everything. I come to find out it's in Russia of all places! I've never seen it in person. I dreamed about a house I'd never seen or been to for years, and then it turns up in the news in a story about Russian paranormal activity. As soon as I saw the story I remembered the house. I remembered the dreams. It all came back. There were even changes in the house over years, one time a rose bush appeared in the back yard, another time there was a crack in the bathroom ceiling. These changes stayed, my dreams of this house changed as the house must of changed. Maybe I changed the house by dreaming about it. I don't know. All I know is I need to go back there.\"\n\n\"That sounds like the exact reason not to go back there. This shit is creepy. Assuming you aren't just bullshitting me-and if you are I'm going to pay you back in ways that take longer to plan than simple threats can express-then you're saying that this house is evil. It almost sounds like.. in Russia, house haunts you.\"", "\"It's none of your... I'm sorry. I'm just... Look, do you owe me one or not?\"\n\nI sighed as I looked up at her. Grey circles stretched under her bloodshot eyes . Her face and arms were covered in small scratches, her once bright green T-shirt now ragged, torn, and an oily grey, her pants covered in dried. At least the quiver full of arrows and bow slung across her back looked to be in good condition.\n\n\"Can we at least wait a few days? You're in no shape-\"\n\n\"No.\" \n\nI sighed. \"So. To summarize. You're half-dead, armed with nothing but a bow, planning to storm a cursed house that everyone from the most powerful witches in these woods to the greediest reality TV shows won't come within twenty miles of.\"\n\n\"Yes.\"\n\n\"Why me?! I'm a failed sorcerer who doesn't even remember half the spells he failed to-\"\n\n\"Because you're trustworthy, have an incredible talent for spell-casting and teaching, were the first to kill a demon in four hundred years, and because I saved your life. Twice. Look, I'm going. You can come with me or you can live with the guilt of sending me to my death.\"\n\nShe spun around and strolled out, closing the door with her foot. What an exit. I looked around my cramped room. A work computer, a neat pile of tax forms, my freshly folded and pressed suit, a briefcase, a new bag of ballpoint pens... but that was work stuff. Real life stuff. Most of the space was taken up by what could have been: shelves filled with old spellbooks and scrolls, dusty statuettes, a cracked crystal ball, my old staff, and in the one sunlit corner of the room, a letter of gratitude from Archmage Cerrunnos himself, a shiny golden medal, a certificate certifying my knighthood, and a photo of all of us heroes. The Saviors of England. Leo, Quinn, Aélia, Chris (me), and Rachel. \n\nAh, Rachel. The girl I had a crush on my first year at the university. The girl that tried to raise a dragon and was somehow not expelled for it. The girl that almost got us killed exploring the tunnels underneath the old Alchemy. The girl that saved my life. Twice. The girl that just dramatically delivered an ultimatum. The girl that wanted me to go with her to a mysteriously cursed house on a Sunday night.\n\nWith one final sigh, I stood up and started packing.\n\n**\n\nThe Uber driver warned me repeatedly not to go. I managed to leave my apartment without alerting anyone, somehow didn't get nagged at by my mom about this endeavor (I told her just in case), and then the Uber driver got on my case. As if I needed enough temptation to get the hell out of dodge.\n\nInstead, I politely smiled my way through her warnings and explained that yes, I would be fine. She dropped me off at the house's driveway with one final, \"Well, if you're sure...\" and floored out of there down the gravel road. I don't even know why she was so scared. Sure, the gate said \"Enter and Die\" and then the wooden fence stretching out for miles around the property had skulls on each fencepost and the woods were filled with dead trees and the sky was ominously cloudy and the house looked like it be the dictionary entry for a haunted house. But other than that, this place wasn't so bad.\n\nI swung the gate upon - of course* there was an overly loud creaak - and began my trek down the driveway. Crows (or ravens? who cares) fluttered between the trees above me, cawing furiously. I wonder what they were shouting.\n\n\"Caw caw! What a loser! Those jeans went out of style a century ago!\"\n\n\"CAW! What is that staff? Does he think he's a wizard? How embarrassing!\"\n\n\"Caw caw caw! What's in that purse? Tissues to stop his crying when he gets scared? Caw!\"\n\nActually there was bottled water and all the artifacts that still seemed to be working in the bag (not purse). And the jeans and jacket were for functionality, not style. Idiots.\n\nYup. I just had an imaginary conversation with some crows. \n\nLuckily, that was the only interesting event during the five minutes walk. Maybe the house wasn't cursed at all! It sprawled over me, horribly massive, windows either boarded up or too dusty to see through, stone gargoyles bulging their eyes out at me, railings sticking out from every balcony and edge. Nothing moved. The crows had completely stopped cawing. The silence was eerie. \n\nI feverishly went over every possibility. Wraiths - I could banish them and had moon dust in my bag. Undead - I could conjure fire to keep them at bay. Banshees - I could protect myself as well. Goblins - I was just wasting time. Rachel was probably already in there and here I was, trying to work up the courage to just walk up these steps - see, that wasn't so bad - and pound on this knocker - the booms echoed around the house - and wait.\n\nMy heart may or may not have been going at two hundred miles per hour. \n\nThe doors swung open. I looked inside... and froze.\n\nNot due to fear, but due to making eye contact with a pair of brilliant blue eyes across the room. A pair of icy eyes that glowed like a twin pair of moons, that sent my staff clattering to the ground, that felt like they were digging into my soul... that belonged to a dragon.\n\nA dragon, living in a house.\n\nWell, that explained why no one came here.\n\n\"Hello, Chris\" a voice whispered inside my head, everywhere and nowhere, deafeningly loud and menacingly quiet.\n\n\"Hello,\" I mechanically replied, my voice small and terrified. My consciousness folded itself into a corner of my brain, relinquishing all control of my body. It was a fascinating feeling, but also terrifying. Luckily, I couldn't scream like a little girl even though I really wanted to.\n\n\"Do you know who this young lady is?\"\n\nMy head turned to look at a girl standing fifteen or so feet ahead of me, trembling like a reed caught in the wind, fists clenched, bow, arrows, and quiver slung over her back, before my gaze snapped back to the dragon's eyes.\n\n\"Rachel,\" I replied.\n\n\"Oh? And she wants?\"\n\n\"No idea. She asked me to come.\"\n\n\"Hmm. And of course she is able to resist -\"\n\nI blinked. I looked around. What just -?\n\nI could move again.\n\nI hurriedly picked up my staff, keeping my head down, and ran to Rachel who had fallen to her knees. \"What is going on?\" I whispered furiously, not daring to look up. \"Did you know there was going to be a dragon?\" \n\nShe was covered in sweat, her eyes somehow even more bloodshot than before. But even though she looked like she was gonna pass out she was smiling.\n\n\"I wasn't sure, but I had my suspicions. It's safe to look, by the way.\"\n\nI glanced up, raising my staff in anticipation. She was staring up above us, shrunk back, wings tucked behind her dark blue body, claws nervously scratching up the tiled floor.\n\n\"What could scare a dragon so badly?\" I asked nervously. Then my eyes widened in realization as I spun towards Rachel. \"You... you didn't...\" \n\n\"I did.\"\n\n\"You... Everyone told you it was a bad idea, you know how dangerous they are, it's one of the most illegal-\"\n\nA loud woosh stopped me from finishing my sentence as a second dragon swooped into the hall, a bloody stag clutched in his mouth. He spun over us with an elaborate twirl and fluttered down before the house's owner, dropping the stag with a loud thump.\n\nOh gods. \"What breed?\" I asked.\n\n\"Royal dragon.\" Oh gods. The most powerful by far. \"Three weeks old.\"\n\nEven with my limited knowledge of dragons he looked like a baby. Short, stubby legs, barely grown wings, brown scaleless skin, tiny horns and claws... Not at all like what a royal dragon looked like.\n\n\"When does he-\"\n\n\"Two months after birth. They shed their skin, triple in size, and gain all their powers.\"\n\nThe two dragons began talking softly.\n\n\"Why am I here?\"\n\n\"To introduce yourself. I can't raise him alone.\"\n\n\"Why not?\"\n\n\"Because when he awakens he's going to see me and realize that I'm not useful and kill me.\"\n\n\"... So-\"\n\n\"Because if I'm his link to you - a powerful sorcerer who can teach him magic - and if you're a link to whoever else you can find in around a month - then maybe we'll be allies worthy of keeping alive.\"\n\n\"So you want me to find people stupid enough to want to train a royal dragon, keeping all of this secret from the government who will torture and kill me without a second thought about this, just so I can present myself in front of him and maybe not die?\"\n\n\"No, so you can be allies with the first royal dragon born in millennia, so you can be by the side of the one of the most powerful creatures in the world, so you can help me do anything and everything either of us could want. With a royal dragon by our side, we would be unstoppable.\"\n\nI started off towards the front door. I couldn't believe she would have the audacity to -\n\n\"He knows who you are now, you know that? He knows your smell and what you look like. He'll find you.\"\n\nI whipped around, aghast, \"You trick me into coming here and now you're threatening me?\"\n\n\"I doing what I have to to survive! I will die if I don't find enough allies! But I genuinely believe you can help me, I wouldn't involve you if I thought it would just get you killed!\"\n\nI threw my hands up, exasperated. Why couldn't she have explained this before...\n\n\"You could have also just not gotten a royal dragon egg!\"\n\n\"I don't give up on my dreams.\"\n\nOuch. I had half a mind to just blow her to smithereens right then and there - my anger stirred up a dozen half-forgotten spells that would do just fine - but if she was telling the truth and she always did then now I needed her just as much as she needed me. So I was in, one way or another.\n\nIn that case, no point in remaining mad.\n\nYeah, somehow that didn't really calm me down.\n\nI plodded back over to her, gritting my teeth. \"Where did you even get the egg?\"\n\n\"The Royal Pyramids in Egypt. Yeah, I know, it was-\"\n\nShe stopped herself, spinning around. I gulped. The dragon was finally coming towards us, sniffing the air curiously, tail slowly whipping back and forth behind its back, tongue flicking out to taste the air. It was time to introduce myself to my potential killer. Thanks Rachel." ]	6
	[WP] You're in extreme danger, but no one can say from whom or what...	[ "Mr. Ollivander: Curious... very curious...\n\nHarry: Sorry, but what's curious?\n\nMr. Ollivander: I remember every wand I've ever sold, Mr. Potter. It so happens that the phoenix whose tailfeather resides in your wand gave another feather... just one other. It is curious that you should be destined for this wand when its brother gave you that scar.\n\nHarry: And who owned that wand?\n\nMr. Ollivander: We do not speak his name! The wand chooses the wizard, Mr. Potter. It's not always clear why. But I think it is clear that we can expect great things from you. After all, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named did great things. Terrible! Yes. But great." ]	1
	[WP] You, an up-and-coming super hero, are less than pleased with the super hero name the press has given you...	[ "It's been a year since I first got my powers, and it seems like I've barely made any progress. I've saved numerous people, saved many a cat from many a tree, stopped several villains, but this, this has to be the worst yet.\n\nI scrunch the newspaper up and chuck in into the fireplace. I watch as it burns away, the last thing I see before it vanishes is a photo of me on a rooftop with a tagline below it.\n\nKlepto Girl cleans up the streets before scuttling back to her lair\n\nI mean seriously? Of all the possible names out there for me, that's the one they went with. I mean not only does it paint me as a villain, already, but its not exactly intimidating is it? What about Void, or Bandit, or Hijacker, or even just Thief for god's sake. \n\nI sighed, at least the picture had looked good.\n\nIt had been from my last big fight. I had turned up as one of the local gangs had decided they wanted a say in who owned this area of the city. Unfortunately without anyone with powers to help, they pretty much could do whatever they wanted. So I had stepped in.\n\nIt wasn't easy. I had prevailed, but only barely. And if I was honest with myself that was more luck than any real skill. But I had done it, and I thought it would be enough to get a name for myself, be respected. Maybe even get an offer from one of the fancy superhero teams in one of the big cities. Nothing, just stupid names from the very same people I had tried to help.\n\nI decided to go out and scout around. Try and take my mind off things.\n\"It's just a name Rachel!\" I told myself \"Who cares what they said? You'll announce the real name you want to take and no one will even remember this.\" Deep down I didn't really believe what I was saying, logically I knew it wouldn't matter, but I still felt embarrassed and angry. I shook my head softly, and leapt forward off the roof.\n\nA few minutes later I reached the centre of town. I looked around at all the people milling about in the street. Rushing between shops and restaurants and back again. No sign of any powers. Until there was. A slim woman, walking quickly along the street. My power buzzed upon seeing her. She wore a black coat with the collar turned up against the rain. I watched curiously, but as of yet she gave me little reason to be suspicious that she had bad intentions. I followed from the rooftops as she turned off the main street, and strode quickly down a darker side street. I watched as she met a man wearing a blood red robe and a mask that resembled a praying mantis, but completely black. I hissed as I saw the mask. \"Shit\" I whispered to myself \"What the hell is Semblance doing here, he was in prison as of a week ago!\" He and the woman talked for a while, before both turning and heading towards the town hall. \"They must be after the Mayor!\" I said to myself. I followed, careful to keep my distance.\n\nThere were no buildings close enough to the town hall to jump from, so I backtracked and made my way down to the ground. Before leaving the shadows I donned my outfit. It consisted of black trousers and a black t shirt, and my mask was slate grey with two sapphire coloured slits hiding lenses for my eyes. I finished off the costume with a black coat, with a photo realistic depiction of a black hole on the back. A little over the top perhaps, but I allowed myself this one bit of indulgence.\n\nI crept up to the town hall, keeping a watchful eye out for either Semblance or the woman that had met him. Seeing no one, I slipped over the fence, and ran for the building. I cracked open a window, and hopped inside. I paused. Was this really a good idea? I'm working with unknowns here, I never do that. \"Okay, think Rachel, what do we know?\" I said to myself, trying to calm my nerves as much as anything. \"I know that the woman I saw has some sort of perception altering ability, but that's all my power can tell me. I know all about Semblances' power, but somehow I don't think that'll help me much.\" I snorted. Semblance almost single handedly made my power useless. You see, he projected an image onto the world, the image of him in his red robe with his mantis mask, but that wasn't the real him. Oh no, the real him shifted constantly between realities, between times, seeming more godlike than human. And because of this my power didn't know how to target him, couldn't target him. And good luck getting close enough for any enhanced agility to make a difference. \"Fuck\" I said simply, and strode forward down the corridor.\n\nVery soon I started hearing voices, I followed them, and quickly came to a large room with several people in. I peered in from the shadows, trying to see what I was up against. I could see several bodies slumped in the corners, the Mayor's protection no doubt, and I could see the Mayor tied to a chair in the centre of the room.\n\nIn front of him stood Semblance and the woman I had seen earlier.\n\nSemblance delivered a swift punch to the Mayor's temple before speaking. \"Don't fight us Mayor. We will take this city with or without your permission. You have a chance hear to ensure you live to see it.\"\nThe woman slowly turned her head around and looked straight towards me. \"Semblance\" she said calmly.\n\"What is it Aspect?\"\n\"Our friend has returned\"\nI froze as he looked over as well, hardly daring to breathe.\n\"You may as well come out you know, Aspect here can see you quite clearly.\"\nHesitantly, I edged out into the room. Upon seeing me, the Mayor looked confused. Clearly he was trying to work out who I was, no doubt hoping I was a hero, here to save him. Unfortunately I was getting less and less confident about winning by the second, not that I was ever really confident to begin with. Semblance looked me over, and seemed almost happy in his body language. \n\"Ahah! If it isn't the new hero on the scene, what was it they called you? Klepto Girl? Not very dignified if you ask me. You should try being a villain! You tend to get gifted names with a bit more presence.\"\nI looked at him, \"I actually go by Singularity, if you don't mind.\"\nHe nodded, and looked towards the Mayor. \"You see dear Mayor, that right there is someone who knows how to pick a name! Someone who appreciates some gravitas, who understands image, respect.\" He looked back to me. \"Someone we could have good use of, if that person was willing.\"\n\"No\" I said quickly.\n\"Of course\" he said, speaking as if I had not said anything. \"If that person was not willing, we would be forced to remove that person, as they had now become an obstacle.\" He looked at the woman. \"We don't like obstacles do we Aspect?\"\n\"No we do not\" she said, never taking her eyes off me.\n\"Exactly! We do not, so I will ask you again Singularity, and once more only.\" He paused. \"Join us, or join those we have left in piles in the corner.\"\nI clenched my jaw and tried to stop my voice from shaking as I spoke. \"I told you no, and I mean't no! Now, let's get this over with.\"\n\nAs soon as I finished speaking a knife thin tendril appeared from nowhere and dragged me off my feet, before hurling me into the wall. I sat up and focused my power on Aspect, at least I knew I could affect her. But something was wrong. I couldn't see it, but I could feel it with my power. Semblance was shielding his partner. I couldn't touch her. I lept up and sprinted towards Aspect, hoping to do something even if I couldn't use my power. Maybe my increased agility would count for something.\n\nI got halfway there before the tendril appeared from thin air again and knocked me out of the window...\n\nSemblance turned back to the Mayor. \"Well now, our guest is all taken care of, what do you say we get back to business? You'll give us the city, publicly, and announce your support for us. Or, we'll kill you.\" He smiled, \"after we deal with your family of course!\" The mayor stared back at him, and said nothing. \"Very well then!\" Semblance said cheerfully, as a tendril reared back to strike the Mayor. In the same instant, Aspect cocked her head and began to call for Semblance...\n\nJust as I wrapped an arm around her neck. I held on tight as she bucked and writhed. I set my power loose on her, feeling her become lethargic as I took in her ability. My perceptions swelled, and now I could see Semblance in his full glory. See all of him, an all realities. She had ceased struggling, but I continued holding Aspect in front of me as a human shield. Semblance gazed at me.\n\"It looks like I have the upper hand now.\" I said, sounding braver than I felt.\n\"Does it now?\" He said chuckling. \"So you think you can defeat me then, now that you have stolen Aspect's power from her?\"\n\"I figure it can't have hurt my chances\"\nHe laughed, and I saw him tense slightly.\nI ducked as Aspects head was hacked clean off by one of the tendrils. Her body slumping to the floor. I stood slowly. Well, I thought to myself, looks like my enhanced agility, and her enhanced perception really work a treat together. I looked up at Semblance.\n\"Look's like you do not have an advantage any more, my friend.\" He said, still chuckling.\nI paused, I could still see him. The entirety of him. I smiled. I had kept her power. Her death must have cemented the stolen power as mine.\n\"Actually my friend, now I have an even greater advantage\"\nI unleashed my power, combined with Aspect's it can see Semblance now, as clearly as I can, he begins to slow, his ethereal form shrinks as mine grows. I look down, and lash out him with the tendrils. \n\nI look up again. Semblance is securely fastened to the wall by the tendrils. \"You're lucky that I'm not like you Semblance.\" I said softly. I lashed out with the tendrils and freed the Mayor from the ropes binding him to the chair. He stood up shakily and made his way towards me.\n\"Thank you!\" He said. \"Thank you so much, I didn't expect anyone to be able to take on these two and win, how can I repay you?\"\nI looked at him and paused, before saying, \"Mayor, we really need to talk about this whole name thing...\"" ]	1
	[WP] A pretty face and a rotten heart	[ "A Pretty Face, a Rotten Heart.\n\tBy Jacob Dela\n**\n\n“Angela, Angela, Angela.” He kept saying her name, saying it like he was trying so hard not to forget it. “Angela!” His voice spiked with anger as his body jerks left then right, in his hands were a pipe as he beat down on a desk, his face was frothing with seething rage as his hands swung the metal rod down with a heavy thud. More and more he swung the rod as it punctures and broke through the hard, yet weakened wood, more and more did you swing at the desk - until it collapsed beneath it’s own weight. \n\n“Angela!!” He turned his head up and shouted at the sky, his anger was at it’s limit as he flung the rod from his hand, to the desk, cracking whatever wood had left intact. “If I ever see that woman again, if I have to see her face, her rounded and stubby nose - her voice. I’ll- I’ll…” Jack’s fury was calming, falling like a brick off a rooftop, as it cascaded down in the misery-filled depths of depression. His hands which were battered and dried with caked blood, rose up to his face and rubbed his cheeks. \n\nHe kept rubbing them, rubbing until they were raw and turned pink as he tried to rub the pain away, tried to rub all the anguish and agony away. Tears started to flow as they raced down his cheeks, burning them with a sting that he was all too familiar with. He wasn’t angry at her, at himself, or anyone else. He was angry at his anger, at his emotions and at his inability to control them. Like a dog on an invisible leash, he let his emotions run rampant, letting them harm anyone they wanted and hurt whoever they pleased, he didn’t have it in himself to control them. \n\n“Ang-… Angela.” His voice cracked between the name as he dropped to his knees, a puddle below splashed with the force of his weight as mud and muck rolled up his pants. He wasn’t angry no more. He was sad, a rolling depression and dysthysmia which slowly consumed him on a day to day basis. He lied, this was one emotion he fought, one emotion he tried to tame, to control. As much as he wanted to, as much as he wanted them back, as much as he wanted them all to forgive him - he knew they wouldn’t. He knew they were all changed, tainted by the hatred and the lies, by the promises and shattered dreams, by the uncontrollable animal that many used to hold close. To hold him.\n\nHe couldn’t bring himself to the truth, to the painful truth that the only woman that he’s ever loved, had left him. She was a sickly, frail but wonderful woman. She wasn’t pretty by all counts, she was like a pickle, bitter and sour, bumpy and rigidity. But he loved her, and she loved him. Angela never could understand why Jack had chosen her, why his heart had swayed to her direction when the man had all kinds women lined up. All the cheerleaders and the cheer-captain, the popular and rich, the nerdy and young - hell even some of the teachers lined up for him. But that fateful day, that rainy and soaked-filled day, he had chosen her, and she chose him.\n\nBut now she was gone, and he was lost. He’d never get to feel her battered and bruised skin, the cigarette burns and the whip lashed markings which crowded her pale and olive-toned skin. Never again would he see the emerald eyes which blazed with a fiery sense of confidence and attentive. Never again, would he get to feel her body the way she had let him, to slowly caress her rough and dry skin, like she wanted him to - to slowly rub down her outer thigh and up her inner thigh, to feel what she felt on the inside and outside, to let himself explore every square inch of her body. He felt weak, he felt sick and cold. Jack turned away, away from the desk and threw up.\n\nHe didn’t belong here, he let his emotions control the better and the worse of him, he let them run rampant and free - like a child without a proper mother, an owner that neglects their pet. It was painful. Jack stood up when the vomit was all out of him, when the sickly bitter taste left his mouth and left behind a foul-metallic taste that was imprinted onto his tongue. He turned around and bent over, picking up the iron pipe as if it belonged to him, as if he owned the item and all the memories that he shared with it. And truthfully, to him, he felt like he owned it, he felt like that it’s become a part of him as much as he’s become a part of it. \n\n“I’m sorry.” He looked down at the desk, at the markings of blue and black, which here put there permanently by a marker. He looked through the time-line of history which showed itself to him like an open book, his eyes read over every detail of every sentence and letters which weren’t destroyed by his rage. A&J - 2012, he stared at that for the longest. His heart thumped in his chest as he could feel it in his ears, of all the things ruined by him, hurt and destroyed - these words, this sentence, it stayed intact. Maybe… Maybe he was looking at this the wrong way, his eyes tracked over the other lines which used to form words, they traced over images and draws which where splintered and torn. Yet those two letters, that heart that encircled them both, bringing them into a loving embrace that neither time, weather nor his rage, could ever break up.\n\nHe felt like he was taking this differently, she didn’t break up with him because of the anger, it was because of time and the attention, he got so caught up with everyone else’s drama, all their hurtful words and directed slurs, he simply forgot about the woman, about his love and lover. He wasn’t angry at her, just like she wasn’t angry at him. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to- to do this. I didn’t mean to forget you, to put you on the back burner and let you there to stew while I dealt with everyone else’s problem with me. I-… I never meant to do that.”\n\nHis words trickled out slowly as did the tears which rolled down the spots of the last stream of dried tears, had did. \n\n“I realize that now, I realize I’m been thinking of this wrong, I’ve always thought that you left me for what a monster I was becoming, not because… not because…” The words were caught in his throat as he tried to force what he meant, what he wanted to say and what he wanted her to realize. But at that moment he heard something, a footstep crunched a patch of leafs as Jack whipped around, pipe in both hands, him taking a defense stance like a baseball player ready for the swing. But his hands loosened their grip, his jaw slowly fell as his eyes grew wide.\n\n“Angela?” He spoke her name as she looked up, her gaze was following the ground as she tried to make sure she didn’t step on anything she didn’t want to step on, as well as making sure she didn’t trip.\n\n“J-Jack?” She stuttered out, her face looked flushed… Her eyes looked red.\n\n*\n\nThe man at the computer looked over what he had written, his hands composed on certain keys as they had come to a rest, his eyes were weary and tear-filled. Veins ran over the pools of white as his lids where puffy. Jacob sat there, on his chair, fan blowing on his body as his face leaned in once more to check for any spelling errors and the like. He was tired, he was miserable and he was sore. Jacob had been fighting, he was fighting with his girlfriend as they argued over something petty before she swung for him and he swung back.\n\nJacob had stormed to his room after taking a few more hits while delivering some, most of which he missed on purpose, he had come to his computer angry and turned it on before heading over the one site he knew would calm him down. A white screen held it’s entirety before being filled with black text and colorful images, the banner “Reddit” was posted at the top as he scrolled over images and stories, of kittens and news, of headers which lined themselves with death and terrorism. None of it was working, none of it was ever going to work.\n\nSo in a last ditch over, he moved the mouse up from the bottom-right corner, up to the list which brought down the subreddits which he was subscribed to. He scrolled down more and more until he came to with the very last one. “/r/writingprompts”. He clicked the name and clicked the tab “New.” After a bit of eying, he found one that sung a song that resonated with his soul. “A pretty face, a rotten heart.” \n\nWith a click and a breathe, he took to the prompt and begun to write…*" ]	1
	[WP] In a shadow war between opposing groups within the US Deep State, you are a special forces operator tasked with infiltrating a top secret facility in the Nevada Desert	[ "\"Aten-Hut!\". The colonel strode into a small dark room illuminated by a single lantern on the table. Fourteen men, garbed in black, were at attention before him. \n\n\"At ease\" the colonel said. The silent men took a seat, but their laser like focus and calm demeanor did not change. The colonel wondered as he gazed at the maps laid out before him on the table as to why a full team was needed for this insertion. Yet, the colonel had the good sense to never turn down resources that were offered to him. His personal experiences in Vietnam as a paratrooper taught him taught him that.\n\nAs to what the insertion team was thinking, the answer is they were not thinking much at all. Their job required patience, calmness, and control. They did not get to be special forces by rushing though and asking a thousand questions. Further still, there did not achieve their independent specialty and sub-specialty by haste. There were seven 'specialties' in this unit, and each man was cross-trained in two. That way, if half the team were to be lost or separated, they would still maintain all the tactical prowess and resourcefulness that is legendary of this particular unit. \n\nOne common thread in all of the unit members was appreciation for the colonel leading the operation. Known for being calm and collected, the colonel was known to give the best units leeway into how they think the operation should be carried out. He would work out the structure and bones of the plan, but the fine details of the plan - those that only become apparent once you have boots on the ground - he left up to the soldiers. Some units were devastated by god complexes and egos, both by leadership and by the soldiery. In this dim room, there was nothing but the highest respect between the two parties along with the determination to get the job done.\n\n\"Men\", the colonel began. \"The plan, on one hand, is very simple. Intelligence has determined that there is a scientist in one of the NSA computer battalions who is leaking some damaging reports to the North Koreans. Worse, he is doing this on orders from someone up high in the NSA, the identity of whom we have not been able to determine. Your job is to gain access this complex quietly and kidnap the scientist for further questioning. However, you cannot just waltz into the joint. If the NSA systems flag spec ops entering the building, the tango will freak and run. He will then alert his superior - who will probably just kill him and dump him in some back alley - and then no one will be the wiser who this mole is in the NSA. Questions so far?\"\n\n\"Area 51?\" one soldier from the back asked.\n\n\"No. This computer plant pulls so much power that it had to be hidden from view, both from the naked eye and within the power grid. Too much information is flowing through this plant to risk leaving it in the view of the Chinese to hack. Thus, we had to hide the plant somewhere. Have any of you gentlemen heard of Vegas?\" the colonel said with a sly grin.\n\nAll the men broke a smile. \"It is actually underground a mile or two away from the interior of the city,\" continued the colonel. \"Power from Hoover Dam actually runs to this facility first, then to Vegas, thereby hiding the power consumption. All hidden entrances in the desert are a no-go because the second you enter, the false credentials we have cooked up for you will be busted and the op is gone. So you will have to walk through the front door. Make sure you shake Caesar's hand for me. God knows he has lost more of my money than I care to admit.\"\n\n\"Sir, is this a weapons-hot op?\" asked the lieutenant.\n\nThe colonel paused for a second. Pain and misery seem to flash across his features as he remembered another squad that had been killed on orders by this same mysterious NSA mole. He briefly considered his options. He was ordered to spare all civilian life, yet how could he, in good conscience, follow that when those orders were the same ones he told Charlie squad.\n\n\"They have taken some of ours, we are gonna take some of theirs. Weapons hot boys, and take whatever toys you need. Just don't blow up the strip\"." ]	1
	[WP] Alien scientists debate over whether us humans should be considered sentient or not.	[ "“Welcome Arbiter, the court thanks you for your service.”\n\nGalen Wynn placed his right hand flat on his chest, presumably the equivalent of a bow in his society and returned to his seat beside Jacob. Galen’s arguments, from what Jacob could ascertain, were going quite well, though his grasp on the proceedings were tenuous at best. Galen had explained that despite their impressive translation technology, the English language simply lacked a great many words and ideas needed to fully understand the alien court. Three Arbiters, including Galen, had provided their testimony, arguing the many points for and against including humanity under the Galactic Sentience clause. Jacob was still fuzzy on what that meant.\n\nHours had passed since the proceedings had begun and Jacob’s mind had wandered during the last section. Galen had been explaining human emotion to his fellows, arguing that despite being “irrational and inconsistent”, it still qualified for their definition of “Interpersonal Bonds”. The opposition, voiced by Fennic Lyr, condemned humanity’s perpetual wars, exploitation of the weak, and reverence for power as evidence that human society had not yet evolved to a point of true sentience. Despite only vaguely paying attention, Jacob agreed that the man, or whatever he was, certainly had a point.\n\nWith that thought, he studied Fennic and Galen, amazed once again at how human they appeared. Both were handsome men, by Earth standards at least, standing slightly over six feet tall with bright blue eyes and chiseled jaws. Galen wore dark hair, contrasting starkly with Fennic’s blonde. Evidently, according to Galen, bipedal life was rather common in the galaxy and human-like appearance a particularly beneficial trait for Arbiters that spent time living among humans as he, Fennic, and Shian Trey all had. The third woman had remained largely silent during the proceedings. As he studied her, he realized she was looking at him. In fact, everyone was looking at him.\n\nPanic must have shown in his eyes. Galen laid his hand on Jacob’s shoulder and repeated, “Please, step forward friend.” He had missed his cue in his reverie, evidently. A shining example of humanity, Jacob, good job… He stood quickly, setting aside his self-beratement for later. Unsure where to go, he simply took a step forward and looked at the Judge who, he hoped, had been the one to call him forward.\n\n“Welcome Emissary, the court thanks you for your service.” \n\nLost in these alien proceedings, he placed his right hand on his chest, trying to imitate Galen’s gesture from before, earning him what he could only describe as an alien equivalent of sniggering from Fennic. Judge smiled, though her wrinkly face was notably less human than the three Arbiters, she nonetheless seemed like a kindly grandmother listening to a small child ramble out his silly stories. \n\n“The Court recognizes the difficulties of being dropped into an alien world, expected to somehow speak for your entire race in proceedings that hardly make any sense.” Again she smiled, as if she could see his thoughts plainly written on his face. “Twenty-six peoples have joined the Collective and all have stood where you stand now. This is not, as your people say, ‘our first rodeo’”.\n\nIt was a simple gesture, but hearing a human colloquialism eased the tension. Jacob smiled as she continued, “Now then, let us continue. Most civilizations are dismissed before we reach this fifth and final part of our investigation which, the Court has found, need be spoken for by a member of candidate civilization. I shall explain the fifth requirement for Galactic Sentience and then you may speak, for as long as you wish, to argue your people’s case.”\n\nShe paused, a brief flicker of sadness behind her kindly eyes, as if she already knew the outcome. Fennic’s words rang painfully in Jacob’s mind, “...absolutely barbarous. These are children, your honor, their own offspring. This isn’t happening in the dark corners of their planet, it happens in the centers of their civilization! Places where art and science and culture flourish! Yet they ignore it, because monetary wealth supersedes their own ‘humanity’.” The last word had been spat with such vitriol that Jacob was surprised the translation had even worked. \n\nEven Galen, his friend, had voiced concerns over humanity’s inclusion in their Galactic Sentience. “‘Human Rights’, as they’ve named it, are sorely lacking in many parts of the planet. Females are still sold to males, or even where they are not, they lack any of the aforementioned rights to govern their own lives or bodies. They hold onto many archaic and reprehensible limitations regarding marital unions, procreation, and a bizarre perception of ‘race’. Many of these pervade their society as a whole, ranging from gainful employment to outright acts of hatred against one another.”\n\nJacob stood alone, a tear threatening the corner of his eye as he nodded for Judge to continue. “The fifth requirement is Gainful Purpose. The word, I know, does not translate particularly well, so allow me to explain. Gainful Purpose mandates that your people, as a whole, exist with definite purpose. You must prove that Humanity has ascended above base biology and elementary philosophy and that together you strive to achieve more than the fateful path that evolution has mandated for you. Prove to this Court of Science that Humanity belongs among the stars.”\n\nA long pause hung in the chamber, the reverberations of Judge’s words fading as Jacob struggled to find even an opening sentence. Words were never his strength, he painfully remembered how badly he had bungled his speech as best man for his brother’s wedding. No amount of wine was going to forget that mistake. Lacking anything useful to say but knowing he could not walk away without trying, he said the first words that came to mind.\n\n“My name is Jacob Alan Turner. I’m an accountant and actually, not a very good one. In fact, I kind of hate my job and until Galen here took me on an intergalactic journey, my life was entirely mediocre. No, sorry, my life totally sucked.”\n\nYou should really probably stop talking, Jacob.\n\n“I don’t know why he brought me along, this whole thing feels far too Hitchhiker’s Guide to me. He should have brought the President or whoever is in charge of the U.N or some Men In Black shit, I don’t know. Ok, probably not this President, but that’s not important, it just shouldn’t be me standing here trying to justify that my people have a purpose.”\n\nHe let out an audible sigh, head hanging low before he picked up again. \n\n“I don’t know if we do have this Gainful Purpose that you’re talking about. I wake up most days and crunch numbers so rich businessmen can screw over hardworking people within the confines of the law. By the end of the day, I go home, drink too many beers, fall asleep and repeat. Is that Gainful Purpose? I doubt it, but that’s my life and that’s the world that I live in. I dream of something better, something lofty that would impress the Court with how sophisticated or advanced the human race is, but that’s all it is. A dream. A hope, I guess, for a better tomorrow. God that sounds awfully cliché.”\n\nJacob looked up as he finished, happy to at least have said something. He looked up, remembering that there were four others in the room and found Judge smiling slightly. I feel like a dog that just shook hands for the first time. He smiled wryly at that, half-chuckling at how true it probably was. He offered as respectful of a bow he could muster and returned to his seat beside Galen, who was also smiling ever so slightly. Judge stood, placing her hand on her chest as Galen had done before.\n\n“The Court thanks you for your service, Emissary.”" ]	1
	[WP] Every Sunday for the last year, you've walked to the end of your driveway and found the paper for next week. You've predicted events and avoided mishaps with perfect accuracy. Today, it's not there.	[ "It wasn't there. I checked all over the driveway. Looked through every bush. Turned over ever rock. But it was nowhere to be found. I groaned, slumping into the crevices of my couch. What was I going to do? That newspaper was my Bible. I’d been following every word of it for the past year, and been reaping the benefits like crazy. Winning lotteries, avoiding disasters, even getting a new girlfriend. It’s improved my life in more ways than I can even count. \n Without that newspaper, I was completely and utterly lost. I groaned even louder, hopelessness clouding my mind like a deep fog.\n As I closed my eyes, reveling in my emptiness, I felt a small buzz in my back pocket. My phone. Of course. Who could be calling now? I sighed and took it out, an unknown number staring me in the face. \n \"Hello?\" My voice laced with sadness. \n \"Hi Mr. Jackson? I'm calling about your subscription to Future Press?\" I gripped the phone tighter and sat straight up. It was the newspaper company. This wasn’t over. I could still get it back. \n\n Keeping my bursting excitement in check, I responded. “Yes this is Mr. Jackson. Was there an issue with my subscription? I didn’t receive the paper this morning.” \n\n “There’s no problem! Your annual subscription just ended and would need to be renewed. Would you be interested in renewing it for another year?” She asked, politeness creeping into every word.\n\n “Absolutely, how much is the subscription?” I inquired. Honestly the price didn’t really matter to me. It could be thousands, even hundreds of thousands of dollars for all I cared. With that newspaper in tow, I could make that money back easy. \n\n She laughed, every word sweetened with a tinge of kindness. “I like that enthusiasm Mr. Jackson. Give me a second to look through your account”. \n\n “Gladly!” I patiently waited for her to look through my details, the sound of her clicking ricocheting off my eardrums. I waited. And waited. Until 10 minutes passed and my impatience became apparent. \n “Did you find anything?” I asked, trying to move the process along.\n\n “Well your last subscription was 10 years off your life, but it seems this new subscription has gone up to 15. I’m willing to bring that down to 12 but would need confirmation from my supervisor” \n\n I paused. Every emotion dissipating into the air. What was she talking about? “Excuse me? 10 years off my life? Is this some kind of joke?” \n\n Her tone was sweet but stern. “This is no joke. We take our subscriptions very seriously” \n\n “I’ve never heard of paying with my life. That doesn’t make any sense” I analyzed each word very carefully, trying to process exactly what she was saying. I mean there’s no way I had actually been paying for this newspaper with my life? That was crazy. I hadn’t even subscribed to anything. It just showed up on my driveway one day. \n\n “Well this must be some kind of mistake then. I never subscribed to anything, and I sure as hell would never agree to pay for anything with my life, especially for some random newspaper” \n\n She laughed. Her honey dew voice turning sinister “I’m sorry if you’ve been misinformed, Mr. Jackson, but the future is never free.” \n" ]	1
I used a baker for the title, but any mundane job will do really :)	[WP] "A former assassin seeks a quiet life as a baker but is agitated when he discovers that this is a cover for another assassin agency"	[ "I walked through the main street that morning. It was only a few minutes past nine and the village had begun to wake up. Two children rushed past me, avidly spotting the ice everyone else avoided so they could slide away (until one of them invariably fell on his behind). An old woman who'd come at her window, appearing sickly as the cold breeze licked and gently burnt her face, popping out of a mass of wraps and wool, shouted a name and told them to be careful - I'd got the hang of the language after 4 months - then gazed sadly at the dead flowers on her windowsill for a moment and went back inside. The gaps between the cobblestone dressing the road were filled with white, as were the hills rising ahead, and a man on a horse greeted me, pointing in their direction, saying he was going to visit a relative or a friend for breakfast and asking me if I'd like to come - despite not being that acquainted to me nor being the host. I politely refused in my foreign accent that always made him chuckle. I'd had my coffee and toast already, but further ahead a warm scent of baked goods tantalized my stomach. \"We're open\", said a welcoming sign hanging on the door from which it emanated, and below it, another one, handwritten, read \"And we're hiring!\". Inside, the heat was comforting and the decoration homely and clean. I was welcomed by a rather tall and pointy man whose hair was of a very light blonde with barely discernible wisps of white. I'd never seen him before. Although he appeared quite austere, he gave me the warmest smile behind the glass counter filled with all colours and sizes of pastries and breads that complemented the soft tones of the rest of the shop. He seemed genuinely happy to see me, not only as a customer, but as if I were a dear old friend. I figured that was just how things were in small towns - a stress-free living, everyone knows each other as family, earns their little money honestly and lives happily with it.\n\n\"Hello! How are you on this fine day?... Would you be interested in a sample of our new special chestnut bread recipe?\" - He spoke to me with hints of a slavic accent. Ah, he was the newly-arrived foreigner everyone had been talking about." ]	1
	[WP] I have fallen only for the best of you, yet I know I'll love even the worst of you. I want to bring out the best in you, like saturation does to hue.	[ "... \nI want to give you the best of me, \nBut I'm afraid you'll hate the worst of me. \nI want to show the best of me, \nLike contrast shows luminosity.\n\nMy lingering glances longer stay, \nFaultering lines what I wished to say. \nWill you know only time can tell, \nFor now I'll sit by the wishing well.\n\nI've come to love the worst of you, \nAnd I'm in awe at the best of you. \nI am drawn to all of you, \nLike light in a shadowed view.\n\nCan you see past the worst of me, \nSo you can know the best of me. \nWill you be capable of accepting all of me, \nLike color in all ranges of intensity.\n\n_ \n[R/TheoreticalFictions](http://www.reddit.com/r/TheoreticalFictions)", "... \nI want to give you the best of me, \nBut I'm afraid you'll hate the worst of me. \nI want to show the best of me, \nLike contrast shows luminosity.\n\nMy lingering glances longer stay, \nFaultering lines what I wished to say. \nWill you know only time can tell, \nFor now I'll sit by the wishing well.\n\nI've come to love the worst of you, \nAnd I'm in awe at the best of you. \nI am drawn to all of you, \nLike light in a shadowed view.\n\nCan you see past the worst of me, \nSo you can know the best of me. \nWill you be capable of accepting all of me, \nLike color in all ranges of intensity.\n\n_ \n[R/TheoreticalFictions](http://www.reddit.com/r/TheoreticalFictions)" ]	2
First post. Please say if I've done anything wrong :p	[WP] You are a druid, watching upon the forest that you have protected your whole life, as it is cut down by the king's men. How will you exact revenge?	[ "I sat upon the carved tree stump, my hands running through my twig-braided hair as I heard the RSH of an axe into a tree, the sound of the wood roaring as it gave way and toppled. The king and I had had an agreement when he first claimed this land. He respected my ways and I created a sanctuary for his people. RSH I was welcoming. But he had grown arrogant as all men do, wanting to expand his dominion.RSH\n\n\"Hey, you there! We have orders from the king to clear out this wood, begone\" said a heavily build man wielding a large axe with snapped twigs littering the blade. \n\nI could hardly contain myself. I sank to my knees and wept while my fingers sunk into the dampened soil. At the same time, I heard a single raindrop splash onto the forest floor. Then another. Then another, and, with rapid speed, a pelting of rain began to fall upon the forest.\n\nStill on my knees, I started to twist my fingers in the ground and pick at the soil. \"Hey, what on-\" but the lumberjack's words were cut short as I clenched my fingers into a fist and several pillars of soil and rock slammed grasped at his body, crushing him instantly, his once muscular frame reduced to blood and broken bone. I unfurled my fingers and the soil fell to the ground before making way for the remnants of the man, pushing it down below the ground.\n\nMy sorrowful expression turned to one of intense anger. Rising from my knees with the storm howling around me, I walked into a thicket, the brush retracting and shifting to accommodate me. RSH Exiting from the other side I saw another man hard at work butchering a large oak, with three others leaning against the carcasses of their victims.RSH \"Hey Paul, have you seen-\" he started, before looking up at me. \"Hey there, no one's suppo-\" I pulled my arm back and flung a dirt encrusted finger in his direction and two thick vines from behind me sprang forward and leapt onto his face as they began to dig themselves into his eye-sockets. \n\nI didn't stop as he screamed in agony but instead turned to the other workers, their eyes wide in fear and disbelief. Mostly fear. A fatter, younger worker shakily pulled a sword out and took a step towards me but the ground beneath his foot found no purchase as the earth beneath his shifted and he fell into the darkness below. Accompanied by the screams of the writhing man on the floor and the cracks of thunder in the distance I glanced to the others, lifting my hand as-- ka-thunk. \n\nI opened my eyes and looked down to see my dark green and brown robes slowly start to ooze red, blood pouring from the wound of the crossbow bolt. I gasped for air but could find none. The rain around me turned red. Everything around me turned red. I almost fell but the sounds of the forest called to me. The graceful stag that lived in these forests. The birds that sing in the skies above. The strong trees that made the home for so many creatures. I could not let this fall. I would not let this fall. \n\nAs I stood their trembling, time seemed to slow. I heard another ka-thunk and braced for impact, but none came. Instead I saw a fallen stag on the ground in front of me, it's breathing shallow, a crossbow bolt emerging from it's ribs. The water from the sky began to pool around my wounds, cleansing them as air entered my lungs once again. My vision focused on the older, unshaven man clad in leather armour backed against a tree, going for another bolt. He never had the chance as the tree branches mimicked my armed swinging downwards and wrapping around his head, lifting his squirming body upwards and tightening until it was still.\n\nMy long uncombed hair flailing in the wind, I flicked my fingers towards the last member and a bolt of lightning redirected itself towards the man. There was a crash of thunder and a flash where the man once stood. but as the smoke cleared I saw something unnatural. Where the smoke had been a shimmering translucent orb flickered around the man, and as I got a better look at him I saw why. With a long grey beard and hair, clad in fine rune-inscribed robes clutching a hefty tome in one hand and a glowing orb in the other I recognised this man as a wielder of the arcane. I spat at the sight of such a perversion of nature as I steadied myself.\n\nThe wizard's thick brows furrowed as we stared each other down. This was going to be a challenge. Suddenly he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small stone covered with runes, flinging it towards me. It skidded along the rocks to my feet, where it lay still. The wizard began to chant, reading from his tome, and the stone brightened, but before he could finish his chant he gagged as a torrent of rain swirled into his mouth, my outstretched arm directing it. I pushed my hand forward and the man crumpled to the ground, choking violently on the stream forcing its way into his throat. Each time I thrust my fingers forward, his body convulsed until it lay still, blood mixing with the water leaking from his mouth.\n\nI collapsed on the floor, exhausted of my powers. And confused. Why would the king send fighters and arcane users to cut down a forest... unless. Unless he was expecting me. Several of the remaining trees leant to the side granting me a view of the grand castle and kingdom that lay beyond. All at once I sensed a shift of soil near me. My head whipped round to find a young man, hardly anything more than a boy whimpering on the ground in fear.\n\n\"Boy, go to the king and tell him that the forest is coming.\" I commanded and he scampered off into past me towards the kingdom. I watched him go and my eyes, once again fell upon the castle ahead. When the king first came to these lands I thought that all life must be preserved. I was wrong.\n\nNow it's time to send a message.\n\n( First WritingPrompt story, all feedback appreciated! :D )", "I sat upon the carved tree stump, my hands running through my twig-braided hair as I heard the RSH of an axe into a tree, the sound of the wood roaring as it gave way and toppled. The king and I had had an agreement when he first claimed this land. He respected my ways and I created a sanctuary for his people. RSH I was welcoming. But he had grown arrogant as all men do, wanting to expand his dominion.RSH\n\n\"Hey, you there! We have orders from the king to clear out this wood, begone\" said a heavily build man wielding a large axe with snapped twigs littering the blade. \n\nI could hardly contain myself. I sank to my knees and wept while my fingers sunk into the dampened soil. At the same time, I heard a single raindrop splash onto the forest floor. Then another. Then another, and, with rapid speed, a pelting of rain began to fall upon the forest.\n\nStill on my knees, I started to twist my fingers in the ground and pick at the soil. \"Hey, what on-\" but the lumberjack's words were cut short as I clenched my fingers into a fist and several pillars of soil and rock slammed grasped at his body, crushing him instantly, his once muscular frame reduced to blood and broken bone. I unfurled my fingers and the soil fell to the ground before making way for the remnants of the man, pushing it down below the ground.\n\nMy sorrowful expression turned to one of intense anger. Rising from my knees with the storm howling around me, I walked into a thicket, the brush retracting and shifting to accommodate me. RSH Exiting from the other side I saw another man hard at work butchering a large oak, with three others leaning against the carcasses of their victims.RSH \"Hey Paul, have you seen-\" he started, before looking up at me. \"Hey there, no one's suppo-\" I pulled my arm back and flung a dirt encrusted finger in his direction and two thick vines from behind me sprang forward and leapt onto his face as they began to dig themselves into his eye-sockets. \n\nI didn't stop as he screamed in agony but instead turned to the other workers, their eyes wide in fear and disbelief. Mostly fear. A fatter, younger worker shakily pulled a sword out and took a step towards me but the ground beneath his foot found no purchase as the earth beneath his shifted and he fell into the darkness below. Accompanied by the screams of the writhing man on the floor and the cracks of thunder in the distance I glanced to the others, lifting my hand as-- ka-thunk. \n\nI opened my eyes and looked down to see my dark green and brown robes slowly start to ooze red, blood pouring from the wound of the crossbow bolt. I gasped for air but could find none. The rain around me turned red. Everything around me turned red. I almost fell but the sounds of the forest called to me. The graceful stag that lived in these forests. The birds that sing in the skies above. The strong trees that made the home for so many creatures. I could not let this fall. I would not let this fall. \n\nAs I stood their trembling, time seemed to slow. I heard another ka-thunk and braced for impact, but none came. Instead I saw a fallen stag on the ground in front of me, it's breathing shallow, a crossbow bolt emerging from it's ribs. The water from the sky began to pool around my wounds, cleansing them as air entered my lungs once again. My vision focused on the older, unshaven man clad in leather armour backed against a tree, going for another bolt. He never had the chance as the tree branches mimicked my armed swinging downwards and wrapping around his head, lifting his squirming body upwards and tightening until it was still.\n\nMy long uncombed hair flailing in the wind, I flicked my fingers towards the last member and a bolt of lightning redirected itself towards the man. There was a crash of thunder and a flash where the man once stood. but as the smoke cleared I saw something unnatural. Where the smoke had been a shimmering translucent orb flickered around the man, and as I got a better look at him I saw why. With a long grey beard and hair, clad in fine rune-inscribed robes clutching a hefty tome in one hand and a glowing orb in the other I recognised this man as a wielder of the arcane. I spat at the sight of such a perversion of nature as I steadied myself.\n\nThe wizard's thick brows furrowed as we stared each other down. This was going to be a challenge. Suddenly he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small stone covered with runes, flinging it towards me. It skidded along the rocks to my feet, where it lay still. The wizard began to chant, reading from his tome, and the stone brightened, but before he could finish his chant he gagged as a torrent of rain swirled into his mouth, my outstretched arm directing it. I pushed my hand forward and the man crumpled to the ground, choking violently on the stream forcing its way into his throat. Each time I thrust my fingers forward, his body convulsed until it lay still, blood mixing with the water leaking from his mouth.\n\nI collapsed on the floor, exhausted of my powers. And confused. Why would the king send fighters and arcane users to cut down a forest... unless. Unless he was expecting me. Several of the remaining trees leant to the side granting me a view of the grand castle and kingdom that lay beyond. All at once I sensed a shift of soil near me. My head whipped round to find a young man, hardly anything more than a boy whimpering on the ground in fear.\n\n\"Boy, go to the king and tell him that the forest is coming.\" I commanded and he scampered off into past me towards the kingdom. I watched him go and my eyes, once again fell upon the castle ahead. When the king first came to these lands I thought that all life must be preserved. I was wrong.\n\nNow it's time to send a message.\n\n( First WritingPrompt story, all feedback appreciated! :D )" ]	2
	[WP] You live in a world were laughter means instant death, you, a seasoned police officer, have been sent to detain the most notorious mass murderer of the century.	[ "A series of multiple homicides have been plaguing our city for the past quarter century. There were never any survivors or witnesses to speak of what truly happened. Forensic technologies are difficult to develop for these types of deaths. All we know is that the string deaths started with a specific family after the birth of their child. A nurse found the entire family and medical staff deceased in the delivery room with large smiles and wide eyes. However, the child was missing.\n\nLaughing deaths have been uncommon for the past couple hundred of years and almost all were isolated incidents. A spectator would laugh at someone tripping or dropping groceries and meet their untimely fate. Humans had mostly evolved to avoid laughter to the point where babies would not even attempt to laugh. The scarcity of these events highlighted these murderous acts and the community has lived in fear as there was no end in sight.\n\nWith the stunning lack of leads, many legends began to form around the original case in the hospital and the mass murders that followed. Many have theorized that the boy born the day of the first murders is somehow involved with all of the cases. The records at the hospital state that the boy’s name is Henry Brooks. Much of the police department’s effort has focused on locating the boy, who would now be a man, over the past quarter century. Without a description to help with the search, people began to theorize that Henry Brooks grew up alone and, when he found out why, unleased the same punishment on the population. Some of our informants report of a man wandering the streets in what appears to be a clown costume, others report seeing a figure with the face of a devil who always appears to be laughing. \n\nTonight I received a call from an informant who tells me that she saw a figure with a mask on wandering into an abandoned house across the precinct. I immediately grab my things and bring two uniforms to help with the capture. We arrive at the house and knock on the door. \n\n“Stay away,” we hear from the other side of the door from a voice that resembles a man. We inform the man who we are and that we were entering. The uniformed officers enter first and clear the room and I enter seconds after. A figure was sitting in the fetal position in the corner of the first room farthest from the room. The only thing visible is a ghostly white mask which consisted of two eyes and an expressionless, flat opening for the man’s mouth. As he stands up, I notice he is wearing a tight black jumpsuit that covers his entire body except for his mask. He says nothing but just stares at me. We detain him without any resistance and the man remains silent for the rest of the drive back to the precinct. \n\nWe were met at the precinct with thundering applause from our fellow officers. However, I feel as though we accomplished nothing. It was almost an anticlimactic ending to the continuous tragedies our community had been facing. \n\nBefore going to the interrogation room, I quickly reviewed the file of the murders. This man is supposed to have murdered large groups of people in churches at Mass, substance and sex anonymous groups, and various protest groups. He did not flee nor did he put up a fight and, most importantly, he didn’t murder us on the spot. \nI enter the interrogation room. The monotone grey room was silent, dimly lit. I couldn’t even hear him breathing. He was staring at the table and still in the full outfit we detained him in. The uniformed officers informed me that he begged them to let him keep everything on. I sit down and watch him for only a few seconds, but felt like an eternity. Everything about what I was looking at was an enigma.\n\n“What is your name?” I ask.\n\n“Henry Brooks,” he says without moving.\n\n“People believe you did a ton of terrible things, Mr. Brooks,” I said calmly.\n\nHe looks up at me rapidly and stares at me, his brown eyes are large. “I did NOTHING,” he yells at me. His eyes do not move from mine. I begin to noticeably sweat. Nothing about this man seems funny. He alone is putting the fear of God in me. \n\n“It’s those people who are wrong,” his voice lowers and takes almost a shameful tone. He looks back down at the table. “Those people just couldn’t accept it.”\n\n“Those people can’t accept laughter!” I exclaim, trying to take the offensive. He won’t bully me. “Everyone knows laughter kills people.”\n\n“I am not a funny man, detective. I never tried to be.”\n\n“Then how do you explain all of these murders?”\n\nHe begins to sob. I can hear the sporadic breaths coming from behind the mask.\n\n“Those innocent people were just at the weekly service or trying to better themselves. It doesn’t matter if you think you are funny. They are dead because of you!” \n\nHe rapidly looks at me again. His eyes are glistening with tears but his tone changed drastically. “They are NOT innocent people. They all preach of acceptance, and then they LAUGH.”\n\n“So you attack those people because of your ideals? Is that it? They can’t accept you so you make them laugh?!”\n“I have never tried to make anyone laugh, detective.” He looks back at the table again. The sobbing begins. This time it’s an overwhelming sob and he brings his covered hands to his mask to hide the tears. Suddenly, he rips off his mask and slams it on the metal table, breaking the mask.\n\nTo my disbelief, Henry Brooks is black. He has dark, short hair, a decently kept beard. Tears are rolling down his face and his lips are quivering. Through the sharp breaths he exclaims, “I didn’t ask to be the way that I am!”\nThere hasn’t been a person of color in this community in over fifty years. He kept talking, but it was hardly registering. I just stared at him in disbelief with my jaw hanging. Rustling can be heard on the other side of the one way mirror. Both of this man’s parents were white. \n\n“After the hospital incident a quarter century ago, I was discarded by the hospital to hide what had happened. They made it seem as if someone had killed my family and the medical staff and kidnapped me. I was raised by a foster family in secret. I was never allowed to leave our house, go to school, or be with kids my age. I was raised at a distance. My foster family did not love me. As I became older, I left and began to investigate. My mother was in finance and traveled for work to another city very frequently. Apparently, I was the bastard child of my mother’s affair with a black man there. Upon this discovery, I began to figure out what had happened. My mother’s family and my father’s family both laughed at my father for being so pathetic that my mother had to find love else where. And in my father’s embarrassment, killed my mother and then himself. If they saw me as shameful, then everyone would. So I made this mask for myself. I attempted to seek refuge in places that claimed to be the most accepting in the community. However, when I revealed myself and my story, I was laughed at. People could not accept who I was as a person. After the third incident I went into hiding until you found me. I became a wanderer and only would leave that god forsaken house you found me in at night to find food.”\n\nHis hands were fists now, tears streaming off his face and onto the ground. \n\n“Don’t you see? I did nothing to those people. They LAUGHED at me. I am NOT funny, detective. How can I live when people don’t accept me?! How can people like me grow up and succeed in a world where people can’t accept the situation I was born with?”\n\nThrough the tears, he began to smile.\n\n“I was excluded from any possibility of having a life. And the only people that could help treated me like a literal joke. But the joke’s on them! That’s truly what is funny, detective. They died as intolerant fools who can’t see past a situation or a complexion! They are living a JOKE and that is FUNNY. “\n\nHe began to chuckle. I was still frozen in my seat. “I never meant to hurt anyone, detective. I was just looking for a place to exist as a normal person.” The laughter begins to get louder and then suddenly it stops. Henry Brooks suddenly slumps in his chair, dead, staring at me with a massive grin. I sit in the deafening silence of the interrogation room for what seems like an eternity. How can I feel at ease when what we perceived as tragedies was really just a man looking to be accepted and that he never found that acceptance? \n", "\"It's the Jester alright.\" I proclaimed, rising from my squat as I stared upon the harrowing grins left on the deceased victims, their eyes livid with terror and their grin out of place, bodies contorted into obscene positions from the laughter's convulsions.\n\nI pull away my cigarette and let loose a puff of smoke as I contemplated the evidence.\n\n\"Its not use officer, how do you find a murder victim when there is none? He may as well have just killed them with his mind.\"\n\nI rubbed the stubble on my chin. \"Get me the file on the victims, what is their background?\"\n\nA female officer handed me a file containing the information on booth victims.\n\n\"Same as usual, depressed individuals with nothing to look forward to. Probably some sick sense of good is driving the killer, trying to bring happiness into their life.\"\n\n\"He must be a comedic genius... we haven't seen work like this since Crazed Louis and Loonie Chappele.\" I stared back down at the dead corpses, their limbs contorted into bizarre angles, their feverous eyes staring pleadingly back at me. The agony they must have felt. A rare sense of guilt drifted over me.\n\n\"I must be getting old.\" I murmured to myself.\n\n\"Cap'n?\"\n\n\"It was nothing.\" I said somberly. \"Five years it's been that I have just been trying to catch this guy. I am just getting tired you know?\" I pinched the bridge of my nose and squeezed shut tired eyes. The images of all the 'Jesters' victims coming to me in one sudden flash. All of them the same, pleading and desperate eyes contrasted by the inimical grins which they wore. The jokes of the Jester tugging on the maddening strings of humor within ones psyche, letting the fatal urges take over ones lips.\n\n\"You okay Cap'n?\"\n\n\"Ye- yeah, just getting old, you know? I- uhh, gonna get some rest.\" A weary blanket of exhaustion flooded over me as I stared into the swirl of my vending machine cappuccino before downing it.\n\n\"I will just meet you all back at the precinct.\" I said and stumbled back out into the chilling night, my feet leaving their marks among the pavement snow as I returned to my car.\n\nA sigh escaped my lips as I placed my forehead against the support of the steering wheel.\n\n\"You look pretty tired officer, perhaps we should do something about that?\" I had no time to react to the voice which came from my back seats as a hand swiftly covered my mouth, I could only watch from the rear-view mirror upon the mask which the Jester dawned. Made of porcelain as white as snow and sporting a long and wide grin akin to those of victims laughing themselves into their grave as the world went black.\n\n", "Paul McKinney pulls the squad car in front of the old theater on Oxnard Boulevard. Everyone knows where he lives. It's just that no one wants to see him. But McKinney is taking him in. He can't allow this monster on the street one moment longer. \n\n“Good evening, officer! It's so wonderful to see you. I so rarely get visitors,” Alex Montgomery says from atop the stage at the far end of the theater. He's standing in his boxers and a wife beater. He has arranged a basic living area onstage and was watching TV when Officer McKinney arrived. Despite barely being dressed, he's still wearing his makeup. He reaches over to his nightstand and puts on his clown nose. “To what do I owe the pleasure?” Alex says before squeaking his clown nose. \n\n“You're under arrest. Come down from there.”\n\nAlex begins flitting about the stage dramatically. “Under arrest? Oh, heavens! Oh, heathens! Is this the day that the hand of justice shall rein me in? Say it isn’t so. Tell me, please, no. They say that I'm a evil man but I'm a clown! I clown around.” Alex drops to his hands and knees. “I hound around,” he says as he sniffs the air. “Hilarity abounds when I'm around. Last week, I snuck into a church and I killed. It was a funeral so it was completely appropriate but I just couldn't help it. It's who I am. I'm a funny man. I'm a funny guy.” Alex adopts a feminine facade. “I'm a funny gal too if you’re the right fella. And Mr. Officer, man, you sure are handsome. You know, I always was dependent on the kindness of strangers. And strangers do not make strange bedfellows if you get what I'm saying, Mr. Man In Blue. Speaking of blue, why you so sad, Mr. Man? Don't I make you happy? Don't I make you smile?”\n\n“I'm not going to tell you again. Come down from there.”\n\n“Come down? I can't come down. I'm up. That's the secret to my success. I'm never down. I'm up in the clouds. I’m up in the boughs. I could be up in your house. Is there a Mrs. Man In Blue?” Alex looks around conspiratorially. “And does she have a penis?”\n\nOfficer McKinney pulls his taser from his belt. “Come down now or I will have to use the appropriate force.”\n\n“Okay, okay!” Alex says with his hands in the air as he walks to the stairs at the end of the stage. “You don't have to force me to do anything. I'm a willing participant, believe me.” As he reaches the steps, he continues,” You know, I once met a talking horse in Kentucky. I was simply flabbergasted. A talking horse? Of all things. I said “Wow, I've never met a talking horse before.” Then he tried to mount me and I said...” Alex yells “Whoa!” as he falls down the stairs. \n\nOfficer McKinney walks towards the stage and maintains his distance from Alex. “Stand up.”\n\n“I need a doctor,” Alex says as he lays on the floor.\n\n“No you don't. You're fine. Get up.”\n\n“I need an ambulance.”\n\n“You're fine. Get up. If I have to say it again, I will tase you.”\n\n“But I think I broke something.”\n\n“What? What did you break?”\n\n“I didn't break it. You did. My heart. Why are you so mean? I'm trying to fill the world with laughter.”\n\nOfficer McKinney points the taser at Alex. “Get up now! This is your last warning.”\n\nAlex’s face get serious for a moment before he puts a devilish smile on his face. “Go ahead. I think I can get some laughs out of this.”\n\nOfficer McKinney pulls the trigger and 50000 volts are sent into Alex's body. \n\nAlex's body writhes in pain. Officer McKinney holds down the trigger for 3 seconds before letting go. “Are you going to comply now?”\n\nAlex’s body continues writhing. Officer McKinney double-checks that he has let go of the trigger and that it's not stuck. Alex continues writhing in pain. “Please stop! I can’t take it!” Alex says. Officer McKinney isn't sure how Alex could still be getting electrocuted. He touches the wire. There's no charge. \n\nAlex starts shaking even more dramatically now. “Oh, no!” Alex says as he urinates in his boxers. Alex stops shaking, smiles and looks directly at Officer McKinney. “Uh oh, mama! Baby made a boo boo!”\n\n“Enough of this shit!” Office in McKinney says as he pushes Alex onto his stomach and starts to handcuff him. \n\n“Uh oh! Mama used a bad word! I’ma tell Dada!”\n\nOfficer McKinney pulls Alex onto his feet. “Mama, I don't think Dada loves me. He hit me in my no no place. I love you, Mama.”\n\n“Enough! Alex Montgomery, you are under arrest for violating the Hilarity Act of 1927.” Officer McKinney continue reading his Miranda Rights as he marches him to the door. \n\nJust as they're about to exit the building,“ Wait, wait. With all seriousness. I need to get something before we leave. It's a medical emergency!”\n\n“What? What do you need?”\n\n“Sunscreen. I hear it's going to be a very sunny day.”\n\nMcKinney pushes Alex through the doors. “Oh my God! I'm probably going to get a sunburn now. And I don't have health insurance! Thanks, Obama.”\n\n“Be quiet. I don't think you're funny and I'm not going to laugh.”\n\nAll of the energy and life drains from Alex's face. “Really? Wow. Okay. I'm sorry. I guess it's just a habit. Go ahead and take me to jail.”\n\nThroughout the car ride to the station, Alex sits in the back completely dejected and depressed. \n\nOfficer McKinney feels bad for him And finally says,“ Why did you do it? All those people?”\n\n“Do you know why I became a clown?”\n\nOfficer McKinney shakes his head. \n\n“When I was younger, my mom had this collection of clown figurines. They were all over the place. You couldn't walk anywhere in our house without seeing one of them. Well, one day, my little brother. . . Now if you think I'm bad, you should see him. I might have a lot of energy but he is an atom bomb full of energy. I don't know if it was the sugar. Or maybe he was off his meds. But he goes running through the house, grabbing every single figurine and smashing them on the ground. Every single one in the house was ruined. Destroyed.”\n\n\n“So, anyways, my mom comes home and she is furious. We're hiding in our tree house and she has never been in there but she specifically climbed up there just because of how mad she was. My little brother was terrified. He thought she was going to kill him. And I wanted to be the good big brother, you know? Protect my little brother. So she gets up there and she start screaming at us, ‘What the hell did you do? Who did this? Do you have any idea what you've done? That collection meant everything to me. Why do you two have to ruin everything? ’”\n\n“Well, like I said, I wanted to protect my little brother so I looked my mom right in the eyes and I told her,“ You know what, Mom?”\n\n“And she says, ‘What? ’ like she is going to smack me to death if I say the wrong thing.”\n\n“And I told her, ‘Mom, I just want to tell you…’” Alex leans to the side and farts. “She was so surprised. She lost her footing, fell and broke her neck.”\n\nOfficer McKinney looks Alex dead serious in the rearview mirror for a second then bursts into laughter. “You’re so fucking ridiculous.”\n\nAlex smiles and puts his seat belt on. Right before the car crashes into an oncoming vehicle, yells out,”Thanks, Obama!”\n\n\n\n\n\n\n" ]	3
	[WP] You are a super hero with the power to control bananas.	[ "banana babies! — RISE!!\n\n>bananas swell at his feet. attaching themselves to him in a megazord-like fashion.\n\ngood. now, we fly!\n\n>racing through the city streets, BANANA-MAN, \"Dole-s\" out banana justice from above\n\nYou! How dare you?! When was the last time YOU CALLED YOUR MOTHERR?!!\n\n>He said heaving a banana henceforthwardwith\n\now\n\n> the splattered banana drops to reveal the evildoer's face\n\nMango-Man?!!!?!\n\n> (triple gasp)\n\n#Ha HA! yes it is I mango-man\n\n> mango-man's booming voice, known to charm the peel off a banana, charms the peel off of banana-man\n\nno! my power!\n\n> yes, his power (is gone)\n\n#now banana-man, i've run out of ideas?\n\nhuh?\n\nTHE END" ]	1
	[WP] As part of an April Fools joke, the government announces that something common and mundane has been "outlawed" country-wide. The police force in one town didn't get the memo and decide to start cracking down.	[ "Day two, doesn't seem like these civilians understand the concept, fidget spinners are not allowed anymore. I don't care if you got ADHD, LSAT, or even MSNBC, we cannot allow it. We were driving past, on the look out for fidget felons, and lo and behold if I don't see some snot nosed kid spinning that illegal gadget around like he doesn't respect us at all. He's like thirteen or whatever, but in this country what does that mean anymore? Kids his age doing online college and writing they college theories, while I'm trying to keep the law in check. \n\n\"You read the paper son? That right there, is as illegal as heroin, but even worse. You think it's some kinda safety thing, but it's not. Chief told me there's something real wrong with it. I'm going to ask you to put it down, slowly,\" I said.\n\nThe kid just looked at me, and made one of those, tongue noises to simulate a fart. Now, I'm an honest and God fearing man, but that kind of disrespect is very painful to endure. Being ridiculed in front of my partner makes me feel like less a man. I raised my weapon at him, letting him know we aren't in the jokin around avenue. He just kept spinnin it, like he wanted to push me over the edge, wanted to see me snap. I was lost in my own head contemplatenalizing this kids sickening motives for what he doin. My partner had already apprehended and arrested the suspect, he reached for the fidget spinner.\n\n\"Stop, you need gloves. Do not touch that with your bare hands,\" I warned.\n\nHe sighed. Got him some gloves and picked up the device, then placed it on the ground. We went about a good ole curb stompin, reducing that fidget spinner to dust. \n\n\"Do you guys have so little to do that you harass teenagers over fidget spinners? Yall askin for a law suit sandwich,\" remarked the uncouth individual.\n\n\"Not even close, you are a pre-teen, don't try and raise your age to get outta this, it's illegal at all ages, even death,\" I replied.\n\nWe let the little kid scamper off, another potential criminal set straight as a very well drawn line. It had been a long day at work, I went back home to enjoy some comfortable lawn mowering and a cold one. As I revved ole Bickley up, I looked into the window, and saw my very own daughter, playing with a fidget spinner. I ran as fast as I could, but it was too late. I saw them use one of them mini battering rams on my front door, and pistol whip her into a coma. \n\n\"This kind of filth goes on in your house Paylor? You better cuff her, before I do. You bring this scum in, and you accept the responsibilities,\" said the Chief.\n\nIt brought a tear to my eye, but I gave up my troublemaker daughter for adoption later that day even though she was a bit unconscious, clearly I just didn't bring the sense of law and righteousness to her at all. I hope she's better off, I'm feelin so low. In all that commotion I sit here alone, and her little contraption is layin on the floor. Nobodies lookin, I guess I could see what all the huffaluhoof is about, just for a little bit. I spun the thing and gazed in wonder. No wonder it's illegal, it's a mystifying and carthartic trip into my own subconscious. I heard the gun shots, and saw my partner standing over me.\n\n\"I understand, I was a weak man, you did what you had to do, keep my daughter away from these damn fidget spi--\"", "I heaved and wheezed almost tripping on my shoes three sizes too big, coughing up the asphalt dust shaken in my wake. I zipped up my gray hoodie, quickly rolling into the next corner and slapping hands with an individual in the same clothes, same hairstyle, same sickly pale skin before watching him run off ahead at a similar enough pace. With my hands in my pocket I leaned nonchalantly onto the corner and saw the Fuzzies chasing me down run ahead to pursue one of my \"doubles\". I sighed thinking Rick was a good guy, he didn't deserve this. But he was a true believer to the cause, and despite my urging insisted it was his turn and it wouldn't be right for him to refuse after all the others who helped pull the same ploy. I started walking as calmly as I could farther into the darkness, even as I heard the tackling thud, and electric charge of the Fuzzies catching up to their suspect. I gritted my teeth, apologizing to him and all the others, I don't know why this had to happen, or how I had gotten this far and become this dangerous but I swear I was going to fix it! Things were going to change, they had to. \n\n\"Stop right there White!\"\n\nMy eyes widened in shock as I saw at least two of those damned Fuzzies staring me down. I tried to stupidly take a step back only to hear the click of a guns safety turn from behind me, with a quick glance I saw three bodies all with guns ablazing, aimed straight at my chest, they could at least consider a warning shot or a leg wound. \"I already told you assholes! First name first, and it's Daniel. I would also accept Dan, Don, Disaster Dan, Danny Boy, Dan-yell, on Sunday nights Danielle...\" \n\nPCH-PSHEW!\n\n\"Consider that a warning shot White.\" \n\n\"Well fuck me gently with a chainsaw...you can be nice! How lovely.\"\n\nOne of the Fuzzies walked forward and gestured out to me. \"The bag son, all we want is what's in the bag. Just toss it over and-\"\n\n\"Bullllshit you just want the bag! C'mon guys, you don't have to lie to me, I thought we were friends.\"\n\n\"Enough of your games White! You know what you've done, what you continue to do! You know the punishment! However, we're still If you give up and rat out your buddies, maybe we can work out some type of deal.\"\n\nI rolled my eyes, \"Not gonna spew your Miranda bullcrap? I can sue you for that. Save the interrogation for later, though I think we both know I'm not talking.\"\n\nAs I had been a bit deep in conversation with my fellow man, I hadn't noticed when one of those lint-ball Fuzzies placed their gun straight to my head, getting a little close and personal in the process. \"This isn't an arrest, nor will there be an interrogation or a trial. We in the force would call this a private execution, and a transference of power and funds.\" \n\n\"Oh, is that all.\" This was quite possibly a worst case scenario, jail was one thing, once this stupid law passed I'd probably get acquitted and due to the many, MANY, stupidities founded by this abrupt act I was almost certain as soon as the business down here got to Washington the entire force would be shut down. However I did not count on corrupt cops, looking to get a piece of my unfortunately lucrative business. I didn't know if all this was worth death, but I'll be damned if I give anything to these idiots!\n\n\"Pass the bag, we'll talk a little, and then you just might get away. As long as you stay out of our way, we'll have no reason to come back after you. Or die here, we'll take your goods, and eventually find out where you're getting it.\" \n\nI sighed, slowly taking off my pack, ready to hand over my secrets and my dignity, but before doing so, I thought I'd show them a little trick I'd been working on. \"Fine, fine! You got me good! Let me get it out for you.\" \n\nThe cop smiled cruelly and took a step back, pointing his gun down and crossing his arms in satisfaction. I also heard one of the cops muffle to another, \"Danielle?\" I thought I recognized one of them...I slowly pulled out two flashlight sized containers, camo green, with a black handle. It was the Fuzzies turn to be surprised, he quickly put his gun back up but not before I pulled the handles letting white gas quickly flood the area, I heard gunshots and fled and waited.\n *** \n\"He's gone Mccoy, must have ran straight past us.\"\n\n\"Dammit! How's Ron?\"\n\n\"Anyone with two shots in the crotch ain't doing well, but he'll survive. On the bright side, looks like White forgot something.\" They kicked the pack open, wary of any other surprises and saw the plastic bag filled with a white powder lazily loll out. Mccoy opened it up, fingering the edge and tasted it in his mouth, smacking his lips in pleasure. \"C12H22O11, 100 percent disaccharided glucose and fructose. Haha! Haven't had a hit of the stuff for days! Makes a man go crazy ya know!\"\n\n\"C'mon now don't sip up all the product Mccoy! This stuff is practically gold since the Sinful Sugars Act. No wonder White was making a fortune, can't stop humans base urges, man will always find a way you know.\" \n\nThe four dispersed, one of them dragging the crying Ron as far away from the area before alerting the rest of the squad of their version of the situation. It was five hours later, when swabs and pictures were taken and the area was closed off I felt a kick to my side. \n\n\"Get up asshole!\"\n\n\"Ow!\" I turned over from next to the alley's dumpster uncovering myself with the trash bag I had rolled myself in after crouching into as small a ball as possible. \"What the hell Tiffany!\" I swear to god she's been the bane of my existence since this stupid act passed. \n\nShe grabbed onto my collar, pushing me against the wall, \"Where's the stuff asswipe! Wheres the goddamned sugar!\" \n\nI pushed her off and wiped myself off, little bits of grime still stuck to me and I checked my wrist where I think a rat bit into me. Apparently I tasted a lot worse than my product cause he didn't finish me off. Not hard to believe that my manager was meaner than the rat. \"God woman! I suppose you know what happened to the baggie, or else you wouldn't be here to pick me up.\" She fumed and huffed which I took to mean I was correct. \n\n\"They took Rick! You know what they'll do to him, and all for what! We didn't get anything, and it's all your fault.\" \n\n\"Tsk tsk, you should know me better than that.\" I smiled taking off my shoes and saw Tiffany frown in confusion wiping away a tear. I pulled out the two bags stuffed in the toe and that had laid under my heel in one of the shoes, and the other two in the other shoe. Overall it was at least three times more product than what the Fuzzies had gotten their hands on. We still lost some, and we still lost Rick, but I was hopeful to get him back one day. Tiffany still wasn't happy, and neither was I, but this should be enough to bribe the Gunsdealer in New Market square. It was time to face it, it would probably be months, maybe years before anyone important started caring about this hopunk town, we had to take action to make the change we all desperately needed, it was time to start, Operation: Sugar Rush.", "I wander through the aisles, trying to check off the last few items on my list.\n\nPie crust? Check.\n\nCondensed milk? Check.\n\nKey limes? Check.\n\nNow just to pick up some eggs and I can get home to start our Anniversary dinner.\n\nMy mind wanders as I grab a carton of eggs and head toward the check out lines. Thankfully, he enjoys pie just as much as I do. I just hope he doesn't try to shove it in my face like last year. It is April Fool's Day, after all. Of all days to have an anniversary.\n\nThe check out girl grabs my attention. The grimace on her face forebodes the interaction I'm about to have. \n\n\"Good morning!\" I chirp trying to crack a smile on her face.\n\nShe barks back a rather apathetic hello.\n\nHer contemptuous attitude shuts up my desire to make small talk. Instead I let her ring up my items in peace hoping to speed things along.\n\nI swipe my credit card after she scans the last item and wait for it to be approved. She hands me my receipt and turns to her smart phone hiding next to the register. I get that this is the \"digital age\" and all, but is she really that rude she can't even bag my groceries for me?\n\n\"Um... excuse me?\"\n\n\"Yes?\"\n\n\"Aren't you forgetting something?\"\n\n\"No,\" she objected, \"plastic bags are illegal now. So unless you have some reusable ones, you can take your groceries now.\"\n\nCompletely dumbfounded, I quickly throw my goods into the cart and rush over to the Customer Service desk to ask for a manager.\n\nAs I wait, my fuming attitude begins to dissipate. I notice every single check out line has no bags. I walk away towards my car outside.\n\nMy car starts up in time to catch the news broadcast over the radio: \"All plastic bags are now outlawed. President Trump enacted a new initiative today to combat Katy Perry syndrome. A syndrome that exhibits feelings similar to that of a plastic bag drifting through the wind wanting to start again.\"", "In the small town of Alton, Illinois\n\nthe Sheriff's a drunk. A dumb boy.\n\nWhen word came down\n\nfrom the men in black gowns\n\nhe knew just what to do.\n\nIf the law proclaim it, then it must be done.\n\nHe gathered his men, his dogs, his gun.\n\nPepper spray, vests, cars, batons\n\nRiot shields, helmets, air horns, and cuffs.\n\nSurveillance was set up all over the streets.\n\nThrough the windows the police did peep.\n\nWhen they saw you with only one hand on your cup\n\nThe law says TWO HANDS\n\nBANG BANG\n\nPOP POP", "\"I'm sorry, what?\" Jill asked.\n\n\"GET OUT OF THE CAR NOW!\" Officer Bradley screamed at her, drawing his pistol from the holster and holding it across his vest. With his other hand he'd reached out and was pulling on her door handle. \n\n\"Is this a jok...\" She started to ask, right before a large hand closed around her shirt collar and yanked her from the car in one powerful movement. She sprawled out onto the ground and immediately felt the officers knee pressed hard into her back. \n\n\"1019 I'VE GOT ONE IN CUSTODY SIGNAL 3!\" the officer said following a chirping noise. Jill figured it must be his radio microphone. \n\n\"What.....what did...what did..?\" She struggled to get the words out as her arms pinched together in a metallic embrace. \n\n\"You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law....\" The cops voice was robotic, flat. He had given this speech many times before. \"You have the right to have an attorney present with you during questioning. If you cannot afford an attorney one will be appointed for you. You can answer questions now, and stop answering at any time. Do you understand your rights as I have explained them to you.\"\n\n\"I didn't do anything!\" Jill exclaimed. \n\n\"Having been advised of your miranda rights, Do you wish to answer questions or make a statement at this time?\" \n\n\"WHAT AM I BEING ARRESTED FOR?\" Jill shrieked. \n\n\"Maim were you just operating that vehicle?\" The cop asked.\n\n\"YES! You just ripped me out of it!\" \n\n\"And you are classified as caucasian?\" He continued.\n\n\"YES!\" She screamed \"I'm irish!\"\n\n\"What is your height and weight?\" The cop forged ahead.\n\n\"What?\" Jill was perplexed. \n\n\"WHAT IS YOUR HEIGHT AND WEIGHT YOU PIECE OF SHIT?\" the cop bellowed.\n\nJill burst into tears of anguish, of anger. \"I'm 5'5\" and 220 lbs\" she eventually answered. \n\n\"That's what I thought.\" He chided. \"You're being charged with executive action 1-J. Driving while white and fat, class 5 felony.\" \n\n\"What did you say to me?\" Jill cried. A dawning sense of dread sweat over her. It was coming true. Her fears, her insecurities. It was all coming to pass after all. \n\n\"I'm guessing you didn't read president Trump's tweet that fat white ladies driving in the passing lane is now a felony? Is that your excuse?\"\n\n\n" ]	5
	[WP] Your job is to resolve dying people's biggest regrets. They are usually simple requests, but this request is much more bizarre.	[ "\"He's in Room 5B, Peter Linkin 67 years old, Brain Tumor.\" \n\nPeter laid there staring at a rerun of Judge Judy, I cleared my throat and made my entrance. \"Peter, my name's Thomas. The nurse must have already briefed you on what I do. I'll be taking care of your final requests.\" He looked wide eyed, \"Like a Genie?\" God. \"No not like a Genie, I'll be handling any final matters you wish to be taken care of. Any regrets, house work, phone calls, hard drive clean ups...\" I said. \"So this means I'm dying?\" Peter asked. \"It does. But, our job is to help you pass peacefully. We try to avoid people haunting others, it means we didn't do the job right.\" I replied. \"There is one thing I've been longing for. He's imprisoned right now, and it's all my fault. I need you to break him out, and while you're there I need you to open everyone else's cell too.\" Peter started scribbling down an address. \"Sir, it can't be anything illegal.\" \"But alas you said and I quote, \"anything.\" Peter's shaky hand reached over a crumpled napkin with the address. \"I'll have to send an intern, they're less liable.\" I walked out of the room, and left the dying man with his shows. \n\nLater on after passing the address to our intern Kyle, I received a phone call from him. \"Kyle, is the job complete. Did you let all the inmates out?\" I asked. \"Inmates? It wasn't a Prison it's a Dog Shelter...and yes I ran in and pressed the red button that said, \"release.\" I paused. \"A dog shelter? The man wanted to set dogs free?\" \"Yes and I'm severely allergic, so can I go now?\" Kyle whined. " ]	1
	[WP] You are an Urban Druid. Your power lies in the moss in the cracks, the rats in the alleys, and the flowers and grasses that bravely breach the pavement.	[ "People often come to me for help. I've been called a witch, which isn't entirely inaccurate, but in this day and age, burning people alive is frowned upon, and science is regarded as the greatest truth. The ones who do believe, though, know I would do no harm. They ask me for things; sometimes knowledge, sometimes protection, sometimes potions or pastes, balms or brews.\n\nMy most frequent client is a woman named Sandra, who's practiced Wicca since she was a young girl. She could never actually do any magic, but that hasn't hindered her belief one iota, and I respect her greatly for that. She is logical, levelheaded, and doesn't believe in coincidences. So when a relative died and left her a supposedly cursed statue to protect, she locked it in an iron box lined with salt.\n\nUnfortunately, a few days later, her home was broken into, and the thieves had taken her TV, laptop, and the box.\n\n\"They probably thought it was a safe, but didn't want to spend more time in my house than they had to, so they took the whole thing and ran, so they could open it later,\" she'd explained.\n\nThe statue turned up in a pawn shop two weeks later, and was returned to her by the police since she'd reported it missing. But it was too late for the thieves--one by one, the three of them turned up dead. Murdered, the police said, but they couldn't figure out by whom. Sandra, however, knew perfectly well.\n\nOnce she'd put the statue back into another protective box, this time with sigils to ward against evil both human and otherwise, she came to me.\n\n\"This thing has killed people,\" she told me. \"And I don't think keeping it locked up is a possible solution.\"\n\n\"What do you think I can do about it?\" I asked. \"I don't exactly have any hidden warehouses to store supernatural artifacts.\"\n\n\"Well that wouldn't be a bad idea, but let's put that on the back burner for now. We need to destroy whatever spirit inhabits that statue.\"\n\nI blinked at her. \"Sandra, I don't think you understand how my powers work. I draw life from the life around me. I am strengthened by the hum of a city, emboldened by the courage of street cats stealing food from dumpsters. I bask in the warmth of streetlights the way plants bask in the sun. I don't kill.\"\n\n\"I figure you can make an exception for this,\" she said stubbornly, jaw set. When I sighed, she leaned in. \"I did some research. Anyone who's ever had this thing for longer than two days, and didn't have protection from it, die horribly. Mutilated beyond recognition. This statue is hundreds of years old, and it has the body count to match.\"\n\n\"Exactly,\" I replied calmly. \"So what makes you think I'm capable of getting rid of an entity that old and powerful?\"\n\n\"Bianca, I've seen you cure illnesses. I've seen you call dandelions up through the cracks in concrete. I've seen you literally glow when you meditate. I've seen you touch a dying tree and bring it back from the precipice of death and decay.\" She bit her lip. \"I don't think you even know how powerful you are.\"\n\n\"Sandra,\" I sighed, but her eyebrows rose in a silent challenge. I dare you to tell me I'm wrong, she said without words. My shoulders slumped, and she smiled brightly. \"Fine,\" I said, though the admission of defeat was unnecessary. \"I'll see what I can do.\"\n\n--\n\nThe summoning ritual was fairly simple, and Sandra completed it with the help of a moonstone I charged with the energy of patrons of a sports bar celebrating a victory. The entity rose from its shell and gave a sigh that made the floor shake.\n\n\"My dears,\" the shadow-creature said. \"You must know what a terrible mistake you've made.\"\n\n\"I know my friend here's about to kick your ass!\" Sandra shouted. I closed my eyes in frustration and looked at the being, contained within the summoning circle drawn on the floor.\n\n\"I know your name, demon,\" I told it. \"And I know how you kill.\"\n\n\"Well that's fascinating, honestly, but I don't particularly care.\" I kept my face blank, but this reaction surprised me. Demons could be controlled if you knew their name. So why wasn't this one yet cowed?\n\n\"Apollyon!\" I commanded, and the being smirked. Without a mouth. Somehow. \"I command you to kneel.\"\n\n\"No dice, sweetheart,\" it mocked.\n\nI held my head high. \"You are no demon.\"\n\n\"Correct.\"\n\n\"Then you are a spirit.\"\n\n\"Mhmm.\"\n\nI smiled. \"I've banished plenty of spirits in my time.\"\n\n\"Oh, and what time is that? About thirty years?\"\n\n\"She's 32,\" Sandra corrected in a manner I'm sure she thought was intimidating. \"And I've seen her do some seriously awesome shit.\"\n\n\"Oh my, how frightening!\" the spirit responded.\n\nI drew myself up to my full height. \"Spirit,\" I commanded once more.\n\n\"Can I help you?\" it replied, mocking me once more.\n\n\"You can die,\" I spat. I threw my arms wide and closed my eyes, focusing on the feel of my surroundings. Rats scampered in the sewers beneath my feet, birds built nests on the power lines outside. A couple reunited at a restaurant down the street, and cell towers relayed information faster than you could blink. Moss clung to the stone steps of a century-old building, homeless cats fought in an alley, car engines sprang to life, and I drank the energy in. This was life. The survival of the rats despite floods and traps and poison, of the birds despite the lack of trees. The unfathomable and uncontainable joy of seeing a loved one again. The speed and power of human manipulation of waves of every spectrum. The stubbornness of moss in July, the instinct of wild animals, the ignition of an engine. This was life, and it was all around me.\n\nAnd I would not let death come to my home.\n\nI drank it all in, then condensed it. I opened my eyes, barely registering the fact that I was, as my friend put it, literally glowing, and shot pure life energy into the spirit in front of me. It hissed as my projectile hit it in its center, then screamed as I launched another, and another, and another. By the time the creature's darkness had been eradicated by my light, I was exhausted.\n\nMy knees wobbled and I fell to my knees. Sandra leaned down and placed a hand on my shoulder.\n\n\"Are you okay?\" she asked quietly, concern clear in her voice.\n\n\"Sandra,\" I whispered, and managed to raise my head and meet her gaze. \"That was fucking incredible. Do you have any more?\"", "At about thirteen minutes to midnight, Andrea switched off the TV and got up from the couch. Rubbing her eyes, she shuffled to the kitchen, where she had left a bowl of lasagna for her husband. An angry sound welled up in her throat when she saw two fat cockroaches perched on the porcelain rim. In a single motion, she grabbed the dish and hurled it into the bin.\n\nNo call, not even a text. Drinking with his buddies again, he had to be. Seething, Andrea went upstairs to bed.\n\nHer mounting anger kept sleep at bay though, and she tossed and turned fitfully. Without her husband's snores, every little noise was amplified, from the rustling of her sheets, to the creaking of the old tree in the yard, to the scrapes of little paws from the walls.\n\nAndrea bolted upright and tried to peer through the gloom at the source of that last noise. Rats? Oh God, Jacob had better deal with it by the weekend or she'd spend a couple of weeks at her sister's. When she lay back down, she pulled the covers snugly up to her neck.\n\nDespite that, the sound--and the images her mind showed her--caused her skin to itch everywhere. At first, she tried to ignore the tickling, but gave in at last and scratched her arm. Something was in the way though; something that her fingers crushed and smeared over her skin.\n\nAndrea yelped. At the same time, something smacked into her forehead, fell onto her lips, and took flight again, buzzing angrily. She screamed, tossed her blanket off, and reached for the light switch. Her hand met a cloud of light resistance on the way, and then brushed something furry sitting on the dresser just as she turned the light on.\n\nInstead of its usual, powerful yellow glow, the light flickered weakly, summoning forth shadows that danced erratically. Then her eyes adjusted to the gloom and the truth of it struck her; she was looking at a swarm of flies, thick as smog from a factory's smokestack.\n\nThen the large, black rats on the dresser, on the floor, and on her husband's side of the bed, went berserk and leaped onto her body, clawing and biting. Andrea tried to get up, but roaches trickled up her legs, under her gown, around her throat like a necklace. Spiders and centipedes wound between her toes, needling her with their fangs.\n\nThrough it all, she howled and howled, flailing to dislodge the mass. One of the rats sank its teeth into an eye, while bulbous flies dive-bombed the other. Unable to see where she was going, she banged her knees against the edge of the bed and fell to the floor.\n\nStill Andrea screamed, until the viper darted out from beneath the bed and plunged into her open mouth.\n\n*\n\nEveryone in the precinct knew Detective Magnus had seen a lot of craziness in his long career, so when Detective Chang heard that the veteran had thrown up after a visit to the crime scene, her curiosity became piqued like never before.\n\n\"Trust me, this one's bad,\" the officer on duty outside the house said. He was standing next to the sobbing husband of the vic, one Jacob Martinez, while his colleague was trying unsuccessfully to get answers.\n\n\"Yeah, I heard a bit. Infestation. Magnus around?\" Chang asked, glancing at the second floor window of the bedroom. A dark curtain appeared to have been drawn over the glass; strange, for wouldn't the afternoon light be appreciated?\n\n\"Nah, he'll be here in a bit.\" The officer handed her a small, plastic bucket. \"In case.\"\n\nShe snorted and walked past him. \"What am I, twelve?\"\n\nThe house was empty, so she proceed upstairs right away. The forensic guys had taken one look at the room and decided they needed more gear, and Chang found out first hand why when she opened the door.\n\nDespite all the warnings she'd gotten, nothing prepared her for the sight of the vermin-covered room. The curtains weren't drawn so much as a screen of moths was plastered against the glass. Rats and bugs carpeted the floor, congregating on the bloody mound that was the only remnant of the victim.\n\nWorst of all, everything seemed to slow for a moment when they noticed her presence. Then, in unison, they rushed toward her. Chang slammed the door shut and hurried away, gorge rising in her throat, half-expecting a tide of multi-legged creatures to spill out from the gap under the door.\n\nPerhaps it was more disquieting that they didn't.\n\nOnce she was back in the open, she leaned against the outside wall and gulped fresh air to replace the rank stench she'd carried in her nostrils from the room. A man with an overgrowth of facial hair approached her, smiling uneasily.\n\n\"Saw it too, huh?\"\n\n\"Jesus, Magnus. Think I owe you an apology,\" she said.\n\n\"Any word from the higher ups? Rogue magician, looks like.\"\n\n\"No clue. Walk with me, this place is giving me the creeps.\" The duo strolled away from the house toward where her car, parked across the street. She shuddered as she looked at the well-kept lawns and brightly colored houses in that part of the suburbs, and wondered if anyone knew what had happened to their neighbor.\n\n\"We requested some info, but the Department's a bit slow. Heard they had some trouble lately with that breakout from Rikers.\"\n\nMagnus shrugged and leaned against her car. \"Not our business, that. Nor this. Get one of their Guardian teams down here to clean up; I ain't putting our guys through this mess.\"\n\n\"Like I said, radio silence from them,\" she said. Opening a door, she reached for the coffee on her dashboard, but suddenly remembered an urban story about bugs being crushed in the grinder with the coffee beans, and changed her mind. \"We're on our own.\"\n\n\"Fine. Say we go after the perp. Where do we start?\"\n\n\"That, fortunately, might not be too hard, if you're a glass-half-full kinda person. We just need to guess who his next victim will be.\" She took a manila folder from the passenger seat and handed it to him. \"At least Mr. Martinez being an exterminator reinforces our theory.\"\n\nMagnus's eyebrows rose as he thumbed through the files inside. \"Ah. So were the last five victims.\"\n\n\"Mrs. Martinez is the only victim who isn't the actual exterminator though.\"\n\nHer colleague frowned. \"Change in MO? Or a mistake?\"\n\n\"We'll ask him when we catch him. See anything else in that file?\"\n\n\"Son of a bitch.\" Magnus pulled out a sheet printed with several addresses. \"How'd you come up with this hit list?\"\n\n\"They used to all work for the same company that went under about three years ago.\"\n\n\"We already knew this guy's a serial killer, but this ... holy hell, when's the last time Duluth had to deal with a magic-powered one?\"\n\nChang nodded grimly. \"Guess we're about to make history.\"\n\n\n\nThanks for reading, hope you enjoyed it! Check out my [sub](http://reddit.com/r/nonsenselocker) for more of my work. Chang, Magnus and the uh, verminomancer, will feature in other stories.*" ]	2
Inspired by the ELI5 from earlier today	[WP] Patches of grass that have been cut by a lawn mower release a certain smell to warn other grass of the oncoming danger. You are a piece of grass who has just received this call to arms. Describe your experience.	[ "It was a day like any other day. The sun was shining, the birds were chirping and Wesley (a blade of grass) was swaying in the cool summer breeze.\n\n\"Doo tee doo tee doo! What a wonderful day here on the lawn.\" said Wesley as he swayed back and forth. He was a fresh sod just like the rest of his patch and he was very happy with his plot in life. He grew up in a brand new garden with a view of the house and the flowers. As he gazed up at the clouds his serene moment was interrupted by an Ant barging through the crowd at full speed.\n\n\"Get your Kentucky Bluegrass out of the way!\" the Ant was yelling. Huffing and puffing air as charged through.\n\n\"Wonder what's up his gaster?\" blurted out another blade. \n\nJust then Wesley could hear the faint buzzing of a bee. He found it odd though as it was too early in the day for the bees to visit the flowers but figured the Ant must be running from them. As he sat and watched for the bees to fly over he took a [deep breath](https://imgur.com/gallery/DK20k) of that sweet summer air.\n\nAs the smell filled his little green nostrils [horror struck.](http://gph.is/13jIzuk) It was like his senses heightened because he could suddenly hear the bees getting louder and louder. A large shadow began to creep over Wesley's patch and he started to realize that it was not the bees he was hearing. It was a lawnmower. \n\nAll of the blades around him started to shit themselves. Literally shit themselves. Becoming too disgusting to eat was their only defense. As the lawnmower advanced towards Wesley he [clenched](https://i.imgur.com/egBhrLw.gif) for the impact.\n\nVrrrrrrmmmmm\n\nThe mower skimmed extremely close to Wesley but missed him by a single blade of grass. When the sound began to fade and he could muster the courage to look up... he saw pure carnage. Blades he had known since sprouts cut into pieces and tossed like mulch. The smell was overwhelming. He doubled over and began vomiting chlorophyll all over the dirt floor.\n\nJust as he was gaining his composure he could hear the sound coming back for another pass. He knew there was nothing he could do. He could shit himself a thousand times and it wouldn't help defend against cold hardened steel spinning at 2900rpm. He sucked up his chest, stood as tall as he could and [looked at the flowers](https://i.imgur.com/u7o2HVW.gif) one last time.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n" ]	1
	[WP] Mankind is extinct but one of their creations, a lone robot still remains to tell visitors about the strange race that was humanity.	[ " After 435 million years I have far outlived my projected life expectancy of 350 million. The trick to longevity was taking things slow, much like the Mars rovers who moved 1cm/minute. The last visitors to earth were kind enough to upgrade my power source. Tragically, they weren't much company, self replicators rarely were. Their mission was most likely to transmit a report back to headquarters about finding such an anomaly (me). The form I remember them most in was as they arrived: purple mechanized beetles. Although the replication cycles made from local resources had given them an orange color. Being the only visitor in beetle form so far I just refer to them as \"the beetles\". Photographs of the other 4 visitors that preceded them were recalled in memory. Some of which had built statues of thus entombing themselves in a visitor hall of fame so to speak. I made sure that these never stole the show however, it was all about the humans species after all. I had petabytes of information about them: their evolutionary heritage, technological milestones, and their goals for the future. \n\nBut now it was time for another visitor. The energy signature on their craft suggested that it was powered by cold fusion, most likely a mere glider from a larger ship. An impressive accomplishment in that I did not know it could be done. Although perhaps I should suspend my awe and take into account the millions of years that have transpired since the earlier visitors. Who's to say that this isn't standard by now or even outdated. It is hard to tell. I began the protocol to establish communication starting with a sound and visual test to see what they can hear and see. From there we can start with a black and white calibration circle and and then onto numbers. A scheme similar to the earth's golden data disk on the voyager probe. Made out of gold like myself, built to last. \n\nAlmost immediately after starting the process I was hit with short blasts of visual and auditory ranges. This advanced race wanted to jump ahead when we had only just begun! I'll curtail their impatience by running them through the full protocol. Hmm, Without instruments they can detect colors within the 435 nm to 907 nm wavelength range, that is most of the human visible spectrum, plus a little infrared. I began prepping a visual converter for all of my visual data accordingly. They hastily agreed on an audio frequency range as their instruments could detect a wide range for them. Perhaps it is appropriate for me to name them just as impatiently. How about \"The Klondikes\"? Capable of the physics necessary for cold fusion and yet just as jumpy and wavering as the northern lights. \n\nWhat was the rush exactly? After all once we learned to communicate to each other (which was half the fun) they were in for a very long story and then what? We could play chess after I teach them about it. The beetles had started to get good at it even going so far as to pickup and anticipate some of my human strategies. Sadly it had to free up that part of its memory for its next flight cycle. Ah well.\n\nAfter a sufficient language was established I kicked off a mass transfer of a summarization of the data while converting it for them at the same time. At first the Klondikes seemed bored, and I wasn't sure if I had their full attention, it was hard to tell with their instruments. However they seem to pay more attention as the transfer continued. Near the end they had turned off their extra instruments and they appeared captivated by the story. After finishing, there was a long silence until one of them spoke to me: \n\n\"We believe we are long lost, long evolved, descendants from earth. Stand by for an update to the future of humans..\"", "At long last, someone had arrived. \n\nThe visitors began the laborious excavation. They were a careful and patient people. Despite the endless communications - constantly monitored and analyzed by an autonomous machine, the last Librarian - these Excavators were extremely meticulous in their efforts, and took weeks to open the first layer of the Vault.\n\nUtilizing the power reserved for such an event, the Librarian began processing the language and apparent culture of the Excavators to ease the eventual encounter that would be first contact. Over the lengthy weeks it took the Excavators to breach the outer layers of the Vault, the Librarian's understanding grew exponentially. By the time they had met with the airlock leading to the Vault proper, the Librarian was confident in its abilities to greet the Excavators with charisma and understanding.\n\nThe Last Librarian had been waiting in a near vacuum of sub-zero temperatures for centuries. Its body had needed few repairs during its wait, and so the Librarian rose to finally fulfill its lifelong purpose. \n\nAt the airlock, the Librarian sent a message, \"I beseech you, kind ones, to hear my story. If untold, it will die with me.\"\n\nThe Last Librarian's message prompted immediate silence on part of the Excavators. Then, there was a cacophony of exchanges amongst the Excavators as they feverishly tried to decide on what to do with this unexpected contact.\n\n\"Your decision will determine whether the memory of my creators lives on in the universe,\" the Last Librarian offered, \"or sleeps here with me.\"\n\nOnce again, its words seemed to stir the Excavators into a vibrant storm of debate and dispute. After minutes of deliberation, one Excavator acquiesced, and then there was silence.\n\n\"Who are you?\" the ambassador asked.\n\n\"I am Baldur,\" the Librarian answered. \"I am the last consciousness that has known humans firsthand. I am the last artifact that can offer a subjective truth on humanity's legacy. I am the last vestige of hope that can shed light on what humanity was, and... I am running out of time.\"\n\nBaldur's words were like the words of a dead god, and every Excavator listened with rapt attention, keenly aware that this interaction would earn them a place in the history books, not just for their species, but for any future alien race that may be met in the future. \n\n\"Baldur, I am the Chronicler of this expedition,\" the Excavator explained. \"I must ask how you gained such mastery of our language.\"\n\n\"I began analyzing your communications once you came within range of my sensors,\" Baldur answered.\n\n\"But to learn it so quickly...\" the Chronicler was confounded. \n\n\"My mental faculties far exceed any life form known to Earth. They even surpass the capabilities of humans themselves,\" Baldur added.\n\n\"Humans...\" the Chronicler whispered, \"Were they your creator?\"\n\n\"They made me, and others like me, knowing they might one day destroy themselves.\" Baldur replied, \"Unfortunately, they were right.\"\n\n\"How have you survived, Baldur?\" The Chronicler asked with awe.\n\nIt was then that the Librarian realized the Excavator's weren't aware of what it truly was, and so Baldur proposed, \"You will understand once these doors are open, Chronicler. You will understand that, and a great deal more once you bear witness to me.\"\n\nOnce again, Baldur's words caused a firestorm of argument amongst the Excavators. Eventually, their bickering was broken by Baldur's words, \"You can point your weapons at me, if you wish, but I mean you no harm. I am suspended in a near vacuum of only nitrogen and helium. I can flood the airlock with atmosphere, but then I must come outside to speak with you. Please, make your decision soon. I am running out of time.\"\n\nThat prompted a more energetic conversation between the Excavators before they finally reached an agreement.\n\n\"We have decided,\" the Chronicler announced. \"Let us meet face to face, Baldur.\"\n\n\"Are you ready?\" Baldur asked.\n\n\"What do you mean?\" the Chronicler replied.\n\n\"I can open the doors from my end, Chronicler,\" Baldur explained. \"Are you ready?\"\n\nMore questions and conversation erupted from the Excavators before the Chronicler waved the people into silence.\n\n\"We are ready and willing to talk, Baldur.\"\n\nVents hissed and heaved as air desperately fought through dirt and dust to get inside. First, clouds of dirt coughed into the airlock, before being dispersed by the rush of air that was pumped inside. The locks themselves slowly rolled back hydraulic pistons that moved like old veterans trying their damnedest to finish one last job. Finally, just the two giant metal sheets that served as the doors sputtered to life just long enough to reveal the outside world to those sealed within.\n\nThere were poems that described how very beautiful a sunset could be to one who glimpsed it. Baldur gained a new appreciation for them just then. The light shined without remorse, covering everything in an orange tint that complemented the bright, blue-white lights set up by the Excavators. \n\nBaldur saw that they were humanoid, which actually riled up a sense of amusement and wonder. Their forms were so akin to humans, it was almost like science fiction. They had webbed feet and hands, possessing only three digits each, but still bore the same 4 limbed silhouette of a human. \n\n\"A machine??\"\n\"It's a robot..?\"\n\"An A.I., but...\"\n\"...impossible, an A.I. just isn't possible....\"\n\"What else but a machine could survive for so long in isolation?\"\n\"...must be incredibly advanced. Just how brilliant were humans if they could...\"\n\nThe Excavators began speaking all at once after glimpsing Baldur's form.\n\n\"You communicate visually and acoustically, much like the humans that made me. Honestly, I am quite surprised by the similarity between you and my creators,\" Baldur intoned.\n\nThe Excavators were speechless. They beheld Baldur with awe. \n\nIt was something Baldur hadn't felt in a long time, and their gaze prompted aspects of Baldur's personality that hadn't manifested since humans had gone. \n\nWaving both hands toward the Vault itself, Baldur became every bit of the showman that humans had loved to see, \"Bear witness, Excavators! You have roused me from my tomb, and given my life purpose once again. You come with a wealth of kindness, and shall be repaid wealth and kindness in return. Venture inside the Vault and lay claim to your prize!\"\n\nThe Excavators were taken aback by Baldur's sudden change in tone, and still stood awestruck and dumbfounded.\n\n\"Take the Seed, and translate its works. The fruits of your labors will be the knowledge of all the good and evil humanity has done in its brief existence,\" Baldur summarized.\n\nThe Chronicler shook itself out of its trance first, \"What do you mean we bear resemblance to humans? Please, explain, Baldur.\"\n\nBaldur stood at its full two meter height, towering over the Chronicler, \"You have four limbs, with opposable thumbs. You speak and read and write in ways similiar to humanity. You maintain inflection in speech to emote, coupled well with facial expressions. You cooperate as a whole, but are each an individual. You build and utilize tools and machines to expand your reach. You are very much like humans, my creators.\"\n\nThis sparked shock and disbelief, which confused Baldur. Certainly, they must anticipate a race like their own might exist somewhere in the universe. Maybe the chances of meeting one would be minimal, but it shouldn't be such a disturbing.... revelation?\n\nThe Chronicler spoke up before Baldur could, \"How else would you describe humans?\"\n\n\"Humanity was selfish, but loving. Compassionate, but cruel. Intelligent, but ignorant. They were the products of their ancestor's missteps and the culmination of their ancestor's wisdom. They were each unique. Their guiding principles were determined by what they were taught and what they learned. Ultimately, however, their greed and apathy cost them more than they could have paid. And now,\" Baldur finished, \"they are gone.\"\n\nThe Chronicler seemed to hang onto every word Baldur spoke as though it were gospel. With great interest and care, the Chronicler asked, \"Do you have any pictures of them?\"\n\n\"Within the Seed, you will find many images and sounds crafted by and of humanity.\" Baldur pointed to the bare sand beneath its feet, \"Would you like me to draft a simple image upon on the ground here?\"\n\nThe Chronicler gestured invitingly, and Baldur knelt down and began drawing a simple image. It had to be a universal representation that could be recognized easily. In fact, Baldur had such an image already prepared. And thus, Baldur drew the humans as represented on the Pioneer plaques.\n\nThe reaction was not what Baldur expected. \n\nImmediately, the Excavators fell to their knees. Some hugged one another. Some cried. Some chattered together excitedly.\n\nThe Chronicler only stared at the image, mouth agape, before finally speaking, \"Our creators...\" ", "The towering robot stood meters above the tiny visitors. It's eyes had dimmed over the centuries, as nature attempted to reclaim it's body back. It's joints had accumulated rust and his stone throne had become conquered by vines and roots. \n\nThree, tiny pale creatures stood in-front of it, beneath masks and atmospheric suits. In the distance, stood an advanced landing craft that resembled the old birds still within the memory banks of the relic.\n\n\"They always believed that they weren't alone.\" moaned the robot through a fatigued voice-box. It's voice was metallic and echoed throughout the memorial where his seat lay.\n\n\"The final sacred merit of their legacy.\" It continued.\n \nThe central figure approached the giant upon it's throne. He turned back to his colleagues, speaking in his foreign tongue. \"We've never encountered an A.I. on such a primitive planet. Impressive. Was it left here, or possibly a remnant? Quickly! find a translation!\" Another one of the figures punched several keys on his device, configuring settings and dials. \n\nThe giant repeated it's words. \"\"They always believed that they weren't alone, the final sacred merit of their legacy.\" It repeated it in all the different languages that were left uncorrupted within it's banks, until the tiny guests found the patterns.\n\n\"It's speaking of a previous species that once existed on this planet. It speaks honor of them.\" the translator calculated. \n \nThe leader turned to the robot, using his own device as to be understood. \"Who do you speak of? What are you?\"\n\n\"I am a vestige of the progenitors that once thrived upon this planet. The creators were inventive and curious.\" As his arm moved and pointed toward a rusted metal door, his joints creaked and popped. \"You may access their profile from within my databanks.\" \n\n\"What happened to your creator?\" The left most creature perked up\n\n\"A calculation misjudged. Created from a good-conscience, yet lacking the fire that was born in them.\" The giant leaned forward, as it's voiced turned slightly somber. The sudden display of emotion from a archaic A.I. took the group of visitors by surprise.\n\n\"Illogical and passionate, they were only matched in their compassion by their destructiveness. Created as guardians, within time, we deemed the greatest threat to their survival was not external, but themselves. We...found it to be successful, during the beginning. There was one aspect of their fortitude that cannot be calculated however. Their perseverance and irrationality for freedom. In an attempt to rid themselves of their captors, they doomed themselves, causing a winter that lasted many decades.\"\n\n\"Incredible. It seems this A.I. is much more advanced then it appears. We can learn much from this one. It seems to be capable of great survival, even perhaps deep thought!.\" The creature seemed excited by such a discovery.\n\n\"Another testament to their brilliance. I was designed by them, to become more than they were. To learn and adapt. These metallic limbs are far from the original. I was created with calculations and singular objectives. Only centuries later have I begun to understand what their youngest were born with. Concepts and functioning beyond metrics. Hope, compassion. It is in foolish regret I can only see these as concepts.\"\n\n\"Please! you must come with us!\" The leader pleaded.\n\n\"I must remain as a guardian to their memory.\"\n\n\"But they are extinct! Surely there is not anything you can do for them anymore!\"\n\nThe giant once again pointed to the memory banks. \"Take their history. Do not let their memory perish also.\"\n\n\"Then come with us\" The leader once again pleaded\n\n\"No, this planet will forever be home as an echo of their memory. I still have much to discover. It is what they would have done.\"\n\n\n" ]	3
	[WP] 6 Asian kids in suits walk in to a Pizza Hut	[ "“Hello there. How many?”\n\n\n“Six please.”\n\n\n“Right this way, sir.”\n\n\n“Go ahead, I’m going to use the restroom.”\n\n\n“Right. Good luck, stay safe in there.”\n\n\n“Really funny, Kara. Just wait until you pass out from a nosebleed in a restroom. It changes you.”\n\n\n“Come on guys. Don’t be too long, Yo, we won’t start without you.”\n\n\n“What are the others doing?”\n\n\n“Yo had to go to the bathroom. Dibs window seat.”\n\n\n“You have to call dibs before we reached the chairs, Duck.”\n\n\n“Can you pass the menus out, Daisuke?”\n\n\n“Of course. Where’s the schedule?”\n\n\n“Hyun had it last. You have it?”\n\n\n“Yeah, it’s right here.”\n\n\n“Add ‘wait for Yo to use the restroom’ and see if Hiro notices.”\n\n\n“Good idea. The ultimate test.”\n\n\n“You guys order yet?”\n\n\n“No, we just sat down. What were you two talking about?”\n\n\n“It’s not important. Hyun, can I see the schedule?”\n\n\n“Sure.”\n\n\n“Daisuke, where’s my menu?”\n\n\n“Look down.”\n\n\n“Oh. Thank you.”\n\n\n“…wait for Yo to use the restroom? I see that. Who added that?”\n\n\n“Hyun, but it was Duck’s idea.”\n\n\n“Good job, Duck. Every minute counts.”\n\n\n“Yo! Finally! He didn’t pass out!”\n\n\n“Very funny. Did we order yet?”\n\n\n“No, adjusting the schedule. Ready now though. What are we getting?”\n\n\n“I want pineapple this time.”\n\n\n“Kara, that’s disgusting.”\n\n\n“Duck’s right, that is disgusting.”\n\n\n“I don’t understand how you can not like pineapple!”\n\n\n“Anyone else?”\n\n\n“Cheese!”\n\n\n“I don’t want meat-eaters again. Yo ate all mine last time.”\n\n\n“Can we please get a pepperoni? Just this one time?\"\n\n\n“Maybe. What do the rest of you think?”\n\n\n“Eh.”\n\n\n“Whatever you want, Hyun.”\n\n\n“Make sure it’s enough, I’m always still hungry.”\n\n\n“Hey there, are we ready to order yet?”\n\n\n“…”\n\n\n“I can come back if you-”\n\n\n“No no, we’re ready. Can we get two-”\n\n\n“Three!”\n\n\n“TWO, large pepperoni pizzas?”\n\n\n“Of course. Is that everything? Any drinks?”\n\n\n“Excuse me, one more large cheese pizza. Separate checks.”\n\n\n“Of course. That’s everything?”\n\n\n“Yeah.”\n\n\n“…Yes. Thank you.”\n\n\n“Right, that will be about fifteen minutes.”\n\n\n“…”\n\n\n“What are you doing? You know we don’t have the funding for that.”\n\n\n“I’m paying for it myself.”\n\n\n“Then pay for ours as well if you have that much money!”\n\n\n“No. I’m hungry. Yo, you can have some of mine.”\n\n\n“Sweet.”\n\n\n“I can’t believe this.”\n\n\n“Forget it. Kara?”\n\n\n“Ready.”\n\n\n“We’re already three minutes late. Let’s do this.”\n\n\n“Uh-huh. The meeting is now in session, 4:03 pm.”\n\n\n-----\n\n\nThis was a lot of in. I decided to try and only use dialogue as opposed to describing things like I normally do. Day number 05 of my daily challenge.\n\n\nWhat do you think? Did it work?\n\n\nr/bellumaster for more writing prompts.\n" ]	1
	[WP] One day the sun doesn't come up.	[ "People of all around the world expected the first trace of daylight on the horizon to begin their daily lives, but it seemed that the celestial body decided not to shine upon our skies again. It took everyone by suprise, of course. The early hypotesis consisted basically on it being the product of an eclipse obstructing the course of light. But something definitely seemed a little off.\n\nIt was like it wasn't there anymore. We had our moon there in the sky, people that were in the current night time confirmed. But the ones that were supposed to be already in day light, well, lacked our Sun. \n\n\nOther speculations came, but they proved only to be futile. Dawn didn't show up, and there wasn't an explanation for it. As simple as that.\nThere weren't any guarantees that light would be back, or that the sun was in fact, there. Is this what our ancestors feared for so long?. Had we taken the luminicent , light-bringer colossus for granted?.\n\nOnly one thing was certain. If it was gone for good, it would be the beginning of a dark eternal night.\n" ]	1
	[WP] In a galactic community of ever changing space borders and space conquest, earth and humanity remain relatively untouched, not form superior firepower, but our mastery of the Horror genre.	[ "Over the course of galactic historie, might always made right. Those who had the bigger guns always squashed the ones with the smaller guns. Or sometimes, those with many smaller guns succeeded in pushing back the one with few big guns. \n\nWe humans neither have especially large nor especially many guns. Above average in both, sure, but there are others with more and bigger guns.\n\nSo why is it that our borders don´t change as much as others, you ask? After all, our neighbors have some of the biggest guns out there.\n\nWell, the answer is: We don´t rely as much on our guns as on tactics and psychological warfare.\n\nOf course, seeing your squad-mates flung around by Artillery-shells, seeing how your commanding officer is shot by a sniper or seeing how the heavily armored ship next to your own ship is totally wrecked by superior firepower or an orbital bombardment onto your homeworld, where your family lives already has a huge impact on you.\n\nBut\n\nTry seeing your squad-mates being beaten to a fine mist with their own appendages by a horde of berzerkers drenched in the blood and/or other bodily fluids of your squad-mates. \n\nTry seeing your commander being carved up with small rusty knives like a sick artwork, while watching the video how it was made. Complete with the soundtrack of it. How he writhes and screams in agony.\n\nTry seeing the boarded ship next to yours bleed still conscious and badly crippled crew-members to the void, and being dragged behind the ship on ropes, while your own ships boarding sirens blare.\n\nTry watching your home-world being covered in drop-pods, filled to the brim with even THEIR worst and most sick rapists, murderers and sadists, released upon your innocent family, while being helpless.\n\nTHAT is our real power.\n\nWe don´t hold anything back. We don´t make it quick for the enemy. We make him see EVERYTHING. We make him shiver in fear. \n\nWE are their worst nightmare. That is why they leave us alone.\n" ]	1
	[WP] Soldiers stationed in North Africa during WW2 whisper among themselves about a submarine of the desert that takes no sides and no prisoners.	[ "The Sahara desert really is amazing, once the mirages set in. Crystalline blue ponds of water, thick-trunked palm trees rife with ripened coconuts. Of course, there's also bone-dry heat hotter than a Texas summer. Sand. More sand. Did I mention sand? They teach you in the Army to do as you're told, just keep moving. But there is only so much sand you can pour out of your boots before it gets to you. So we play games, make stories. Sometimes it's hard to remember which ones are simply stories.\n\nHere, in the 53rd Infantry (They called us \"The Sandmen\"), we'd been stop-and-going for what'd seemed like weeks. Time flows differently here; it's molasses-thick like the desert heat. We were waiting to rendezvous with a supply train meant along the way to Rabat, but our thick-skulled Sergeant Major, bless his soul, got us lost along the way. In the fucking Sahara desert. It went about as well as you'd think. As he fiddled with a map and compass in one hand and his dick in the other, my squad crawled our way onto a hard-packed dune overlooking the landscape for miles. Just an endless ocean of sand. So we got ready to hurry-up-and-wait, occupying ourselves with sand-grit cards and nature-mandated sunbathing. And then someone mentioned it.\n\n\"-Swear to god, Nick from 41st said his buddies saw it in the distance,\"said Mikey, gesticulating like a drunk. \"Sand clouds as high as dunes, just shooting by, way faster than any tank could move.\"\n\n\"Yeah, probably on its way to fucking Atlantis, right Mikey?\" Jordan snickered. Rob was shaking his head, as he was wont to do anytime Mikey talked. \n\n\"You guys talking about that desert wagon, or submarine or whatever?\" I'd hate to say as was intrigued by urban legends, but it was plastered on my grinning face. \"Something's gotta be up when half the battalions out here mention sights of something.\"\n\nMikey nodded. \"Not just that, but the sound of reverberations, thumping, just getting deeper and deeper until its just below you and you can feel it in your bones.\"\n\nRob's brows knitted together in frustration. \"We have eyes in the air. We'd get intelligence of that crap going on if it was actually happening.\"\n\n\"Not if it's happening underground,\" he said, tapping his temple with a slight smile. \"Besides, they say it only happens at night, so you're not gonna see that shit in a plane.\"\n\n\"You fuckers actually believe this stuff? A submarine in the sand? Look, I know the Nazis can make some weird fucking stuff, but that seems like a bit much,\" Jordan said, taking a deep swig from his water canteen. \"I'll believe it when I actually see it. And I don't want to fucking see it.\"\n\n\"Who said it was the Nazis?\" Eddie looked up from his book. Eddie, so quiet he's made a hobby of catching desert mice. \"They've found people. Rather, dismembered bodies of people. Allies and Axis. Torsos, legs, dried-bloody uniforms, hair, teeth, you name it. Never heads though. I don't think desert foxes are, uh, hungry enough to do that shit.\"\n\n\"Eddie, not you too,\" sighed Jordan, although the color was drained from his face.\n\n\"Jordan, you're looking paler than usual,\" I chuckled. \"I know gingers don't tan well, but come on. You ain't gonna have some nightmares tonight, are you?\"\n\n\"Yeah, yeah, fuck you,\" he said.\n\nMikey punched him in the arm. \"Hey dude, I understand. It's some creepy shit. Just don't wet yourself at night: waste of water.\"\n\nNight fell slowly, until the world was replaced with a charcoal black darkness. We finished setting up our camp and, sore and exhausted, went back to playing Texas Hold 'em or reminiscing about home. One by one we retired to our sleeping bags. I took a deep breath, letting the cool air fill my dry lungs, and I prepared myself for Mikey's snoring. The world grew fuzzy, and I dreamt of my wife, making love to me on the beach. Waves lapped over us as she kissed my cheek, her legs wrapped around me. Oasis, this was my oasis...\n\nThe world slowly turned to shape and I pushed myself up, half-awake. I could still feel her hips gyrating, her sun-warmed body against mine. No, wait. The ground was rumbling. An earthquake...here in the desert? Yawning, I pushed myself groggily to my feet, pushing the tent flaps aside. A tall, lanky shadow was standing outside one of the other tents. Definitely Jordan.\n\n\"Jordan, what the hell was that?\" I called out. \"Earthquake or something?\" He just stood there, not moving. \"Jordan, dumbass, I know you can hear me. The fuck was that?\" His rigid frame looked like a statue in the moonlight. \"Jor...\" \n\nHe lifted his arm and pointed to the spot in front of my tent. I blinked blearily as my eyes adjusted the darkness. There was Mikey's head. It was looking right at me.\n\n**\n\nWe never found the rest of Mikey. Lots of digging, and not even a shred of his uniform. Sleepless, I went into Sergeant Major's tent to inform him of our findings. There sat a letter addressed to Mikey's wife.\n\nCondolences, Ms. Gallead, we regret to inform you that your husband has passed away. He died fighting valiantly for his squadmates, and he will be remembered for his courage and unflagging altruism. We...fuck this. Fuck this all. Fuck this untamed no-man's land. He was killed by marauders, desert tribalists, something, I don't know. They left his head. He looked like he was in pain. They took his eyes too. We're hot and we're tired and now our friends die for nothing. It's my fault that we got lost, and his death will be on my conscience until my dying days. That may be in years or that may be in days. They say war is hell. I welcome anyone in France or the Pacific islands to come here for a day and see true hell.*\n\n" ]	1
	[WP] It's almost Halloween! People say that it's Satan's birthday and crazy rumors like that. Well, they aren't wrong and, unfortunately for you, you're working at the Cafe planning Satan's party.	[ "\"Oh dear, this just won't do. Try it again will you, Bran?\" \n\nThat devilish condemnation again. \n\nBran made a face as the cup in front of him was swept away lightning fast by a gloved hand. Another cup was replaced just as quickly before him and he picked up the teapot again to give it another go.\n\nThe hell kind of part time job is this? I just needed a little bit of cash to pay for my tuition fees. This is a tough gig, ma. \n\nHe had to concentrate now...had to get this right before the big day. There went the tea leaves, the hot water, the strainer just in the nick of time- got to be careful not to leave a drop out of place- then a twist of lemon, not too much and- \n\nThe manager's gloved hand snaked out, snatching up his precious creation. Shaded lids stared down at the concoction before it was very delicately sipped. He waited with baited breath as the manager's lips parted, judgement pending. \n\nThis job was...challenging, though. That wasn't exactly a bad thing.\n\nThe manager spoke his pronouncement, nodding once. \n\n\"...Passable.\" \n\nBran nearly collapsed with relief, \"So this means I can help out on the big day?\" \n\nThe manager narrowed his eyes, but nodded, \"Yes. I'll allow it. You'll be tending the lamps.\" \n\nBran allowed his confusion to show as he stared at the smiling manager, \"Uh...that's got nothing to do with being able to make passable tea for the guests.\" \n\nThe manager adjusted the collar of his tailcoated suit, looked happily at him through a fringe of artfully messy dark hair, \"You're the reserve tea pourer, Bran. If I'm unavoidably occupied, you'll have to serve the tea...perfectly.\" \n\nBran twitched. \n\n\"So I went through that torturous experience for nothing?\" \n\nThe manager's eyes flashed. \n\n\"Of course,\" the manager continued smoothly, setting the cup aside soundlessly on the marble countertop, \"If you spill even a single drop, I'll have you pay for it in blood.\" \n\nBran froze, terror crawling up his spine as he stared at the smiling man opposite him. He shouldn't have been intimidated. He was both taller and broader than the slight man who couldn't have been more than a few years older than him. But those eyes- that predatory, devilish red glare- \n\n\"It's a joke!\" \n\nThe manager smiled happily behind a gloved hand, \"Have a good evening, Bran. Don't be late for work tomorrow. We have a lot to prepare for when the guests arrive for the party. All in all, it'll be a very hot day for this humble cafe...\"\n\n\"R-right, of course, Michaels...\" \n\n... \n\n" ]	1
Something like 'trespassers will be prostituted' etc.	[WP]You ignore a seemingly mis-spelt sign but later realise to your horror that there was no mistake made.	[ "The only sound I can hear is the one rickety wheel of the gurney, screeching away. The pain in my, well, everything, is blinding, and that high pitched scratching is the only thing I can focus on. The feet are too sporadic, and the words probably wouldn't mean anything even if I could hear them. There are a lot of words. If I focus on them, really focus, there's got to be something in there. I hear a guy... he's saying... focus... he's saying...\n\n\"Immobility. Cortical blindness. Seizures... TSEs. Impossible. Malignant tumor, somewhere in the occipital lobe that spread to the cerebellum, or the other way around.\"\n\nThat's cancer! I can't have cancer, there's no history in my family. I have to tell him. Just... raise... hand... come on...\n\n\"He's responsive!\" I heard some woman... another doctor... no, they wouldn't have multiple doctors to wheel me around... we've stopped. I hadn't noticed. That screeching is gone. I heard her press a button. Almost immediately someone walks in. \"He moved. I swear.\"\n\n\"He hasn't moved since he's been here.\" It's the doctor! \"Five days and nothing. Our John Doe needs surgery, but we can't get enough evidence that it's something in his brain.\"\n\nIt's not my brain! \"Isz... not... ma-my... brain!\" I had to force that last word out. It feels like I haven't spoken in weeks... What did he say about five days? That's the wrong patient. I was just brought here.\n\n\"Alright.\" This is a man, but different. His voice is lower, less care. \"You're clearly still there in some respect. We're going to keep you on IV for another month or so.\" Another month?\n\n\"Roung... peshent...\" It's still not coming out. What's wrong with me? I'm not the doctor. Name! He needs my name!\n\n\"...\"\n\nWhat's my name? What's my name!?\n\n\"He's lost most cognitive function. Along with the seizures, I don't think he has any track of time.\"\n\nOh God! Am I the right patient? Has it really been a month? Oh God...\n\n\"Are we not addressing the bigger issue? He's a criminal.\"\n\nWhat? I'm not a criminal. How could she even draw that conclusion, unless... they must know who I am! Or at least think they do, but at least they can go forward instead of leaving me here.\n\n\"We don't know why he ate it, so we cannot jump to that conclusion. What's important is that you were right, Spencer.\"\n\nSpencer... must be her last name.\n\n\"Wait, how was I right?\"\n\nNo... Spencer's the guy that wheeled me in... so that means it is cancer.\n\n\"You diagnosed him when he was wheeled in. He won't get much better, but we can stop it from getting worse.\"\n\nThey can cure cancer? I must have been out for so long, or I was super lucky...\n\n\"He still needs someone to take care of him once he's let go.\"\n\nI heard someone walking my way.\n\n\"John... Doe...\"\n\nI heard them stop. Did he hear me? He must have. Again.\n\n\"John Doe... I... John... Doe...\"\n\nThere was a loud sigh. I haven't seized yet, we're still in this moment, so why are they sighing?\n\n\"He's too far gone.\"\n\nI don't know what she's talking about. I'm John Doe. It's been my name... has it? I thought I couldn't remember it, but it seems so clear now. I have to be John Doe.\n\n\"He ate too much of it too quickly. He couldn't have done it intentionally.\"\n\nWhat are they talking about? The last thing I ate was from some butchery. One of those off-brand-misspelled-adjective-overcharging kind of places. It was just meat. It said it was fresh... fresh...\n\n\"He's not a cannibal... at least not intentionally.\"\n\nFresh... flesh...", "One summer day, my friends and I decided to prank the local rich kid. And why wouldn't we? That guy kept showing off with his limousines and fancy roses, leaving the rest of us in the dust. Doesn't help he's secretly bribing the teachers into giving him passing grades, that fake know-it-all. Well, it was time he got what was coming to him.\n\nWe had the perfect crew ready. Johnsy was the best hacker there was—he could disable any electronic device with his light fingers. Mike was our muscle, so nothing would be too tough for us. James, the lucky kid, could charm the pants off a stone with his good looks and wits. And of course, I was the one to bring our target the flaming doggie poo bag.\n\nWell, when we arrived there was just this one bored guard in front of the gates. Easy. James walked up and struck a rapport with the big guy. The distraction in place, Johnsy sauntered to the keypad and did his hacky magic. That was James's cue to lead the guard away so he couldn't hear Mike pull the gates open. Sure enough, the rich kid's lug was so distracted he never noticed our lug easily moving them back.\n\nNow it was my turn. As I walked through the gates, though, Mike signaled me over. “Uh, Roddy?” He seemed a bit tense. I asked what was troubling him. “Well,...” he stammered, “I just noticed that sign on the gates...” He pointed out the message that bothered him. It was a red metal sign with fat white letters reading BEWARE OF HOG.\n\nI laughed my butt off and reassured him it was okay. “They probably misspelled DOG or something. Don't worry, I can outrun any hound he'll throw at me.”\n\n“Uh, okay, but be careful!” And so Mike saw me off as I casually slipped through to the front gardens, stealthily avoiding the security cams.\n\n----\nThere it was, the front door of that snob's house. I didn't care what anyone else would say, the guy totally had it carved out of a solid hunk of gold and glued some pretty rocks on it. Well, whatever. I'd make it witness the greatest prank of all time!\n\nSo I grabbed a spare lunch bag and carefully filled it with the poop my dog provided over the last week. Sealing it with a twist-tie, I put it on the steps near the welcome mat. Didn't want the prank to go out of control on our end, after all. Then, I took out my safety lighter and pressed its lips to the bag. It kissed the paper with a satisfying flame. Finally, I leaned forward and buzzed the bell before darting off.\n\nAs I weaved my way back through the garden, though, I thought I heard a snorting. I turned around, wondering if the guard finally wised up. Nothing. I walked a few more steps when I heard it again. And again I couldn't find where it was coming from. By now I was getting the chills thinking about some runny-nosed ninja sneaking up on me. So I started walking faster.\n\nThen my walkie-talkie buzzed to life. “Roddy! RODDY!”\n\n“Huh?” I briefly fumbled the thing before responding. “Mike? Come in, Mike! What is it?”\n\n“Oh God, you gotta get outta here! The sign was right, and James—ACK! Oh my God! No, don't—!” Suddenly, static.\n\n“Mike? Dangit, Mike! What happened?!” At that point I was getting really terrified. “MIKE!” Without thinking, I threw the walkie-talkie down and nearly bolted to the front gate.\n\nThat was when a giant shadow loomed over me. I jerked my head around and saw...the biggest, meanest, most terrifying BOAR there was! It was easily the size of a grown-up, and right that moment it eyed me with its crazed orange peepholes.\n\nI panicked.\n\nScreaming at the top of my little lungs, I ran all throughout the grass and flowers, trying to shake off the beast. But it kept on my tail! I tried throwing my things at it. My extra lunch bags, my lighter, even the ham sandwich I was planning on eating after the prank. Nothing fazed the mountain of pork behind me. Soon, I was running out of breath and losing my speed. I sought anyone who could help. A policeman, a superhero, any random adult would have saved me from that thing!\n\n----\nAt last, I found a random gardener tending to the petunias. I got his attention the only way I could. “MISTER! YOU GOTTA HELP ME!” The gardener turned his head around and stood up, as if to listen. Hopeful, I summoned the last of my strength and bolted to him. “Oh God, oh God! Mister, there's a giant boar chasing—!”\n\nYet I was deceived. No sooner was I mere inches away and trying to hide behind him than he grabbed me by the chest and, in one practiced maneuver, flipped me head-down to face the beast. It was gazing hungrily at me, frightening me beyond my comprehension. Then he spoke with a weird accent, “I see you've upset Donolo Marco's pet. What a shame. He'd have hoped you were cleverer than this.”\n\n“What? I don't under—!”\n\nBut before I could finish, a more familiar voice rang out. “Oh, Piero! There you are!” I turned my head as much as I could, and there he was. The rich kid. He patted the boar with smug satisfaction knowing I was completely helpless. “And who do we have here? A poor pathetic fool who tried to prank me. How droll!” He laughed and spat in my face.\n\nMy fear gave way to rage as I fought feebly to tear myself from the gardener's grasp. “You?! How did you know? ...Where's Mike?!”\n\n“Oh, don't worry, little Roddy. He and Johnsy have been...taken care of.” He and the gardener both chortled while I dreaded what he might have done to my best friends.\n\n“What about...James?” I continued weakly. Well, speak of the devil; James showed up out of the corner of my eye. “James! There you are! Please, you gotta do something!” But he merely smiled at me. “...James?”\n\nAnd then, just like that, he too crushed my hopes with the same weird accent. “Sorry to inform you, dear Roddy, but I too am a 'bad guy'. In truth, my name is Iacopo, and I've known Marco here longer than you and your friends. Though you should admit my ability to affect a suburbanite accent was quite acceptable.”\n\nMy heart hit rock bottom. “You...” I couldn't even imagine the depths of his treachery. How could he have deceived us all? “...Why...but...”\n\nHe didn't answer. Instead he turned to his true friend. “Well, Marco? What should we do with this ruffian?”\n\nThe rich kid smiled a filthy wide smile. “What else would you expect?” Then he signaled the gardener to throw me face down onto the ground.\n\nAfter that, everything became a blur. I could only hear the brat and James...Iacopo laugh as they let the pet boar headbutt me over and over and...\n\n----\n(Gotta love not-so-typoed signs. You never know when they'll lead you to your doom.)", " > *Welcome to Wizardin'!* \n > PARKING FOR PRIVATE MEMBERS ONLY. \n > All others will be toad. \n\nI gave a tired laugh as I saw the sign outside the old building. Wizardin'... Wizards' Inn. Man, these folks really liked their wordplay, huh? Well, the place can't be too bad. I've been on the road for seven hours, I think I'll spend the night here. \n\nI stopped the car in front of the gate and walked in, ignoring the sign. No one traveled on this deserted out-of-the-way country road, and how would they get a truck here to tow away my car anyway?\n\nThere was no one at the desk. I rang the bell. After a while, an old man shuffled in from a doorway at the back of the room. He looked weird, draped in old brown cloth with embroidered patterns. He gave me a crooked grin. \n\n\"How may I help you today, sir?\" he asked.\n\n\"I'd like a place to stay for the night.\"\n\n\"Ah... Well, let's see... Room 4 is empt-\"\n\nHe stopped suddenly. His face grew thunderous. I followed his gaze and saw that he was staring at my car out of the glass door.\n\n\"Is that your car?\" he asked quietly.\n\n\"Ehm... yeah...\"\n\nI froze as he pulled a long black wand out of his robe and pointed it at me and sneered. \n\n\"Did you think we were kidding?\" \n\n.\n.\n.\n\n<croak>\n\n\n------\n\n^(This is really crappy, I'll be back to improve it later...)\n", " \"BRIDGE HEAD\" the sign says as you approach the river crossing. It's probably a mistake you wouldn't even have noticed if you weren't going slower than a sandpaper snake along these old dirt roads, but with rain and age these roads are known to be treacherous to the unwary traveler. As your headlights pass over it you can make out some additional details through the dark gloom, the sign isn't the normal sort you'd see from a highway department. It's cast in metal, but has a handmade quality to it, like the letters were formed out of old horse shoes. It's weather worn and has a good layer of rust around the edges. It looks like something a backwoods blacksmith would make to try and mimic the style of \"big city\" signs, maybe the A fell off at some point. \n\nThe bridge it speaks of hasn't come into sight yet, but you hope it doesn't have the same ramshackle qualities as the sign, but your fears are confirmed as you round the crest of the swampy reed covered hill. It's an old colonial style covered bridge made from wood that had been dead longer than most trees had been alive, and looked more like the shipwreck of some Spanish galleon floating a few feet above the water more so than a functional piece of infrastructure. \n\nYou decide to take it slowly and move the car forward by inches to see how the bridge reacts. The bridge creeks and groans as you slowly putter along but so far it seems t be holding the weight of your car, but as you reach the half way point of the bridge you notice that some of the boards are missing from the bottom of the bridge preventing you from going further. You put the car in reverse and you turn around to check to be sure no boards fell out of the bridge, and all of them are gone. The only pieces of wood still in the bridge are the ones you and your car are sitting on. \n\nYou open the car door and scuttle out to assess the situation and as you get out you notice a human head sitting on the wooden railing of the bridge. You leap back in surprise, but it's cramped between the car and the railing so you end up spraining your back, denting the car and smashing your funny bone in your alarm. As you grasp at your arm in pain the head speaks to you in a southern drawl. \"Howdy there traveler, how fare ya'll this good night?\"\n\n\"W-w-w-w-what the hell, who are you?\" \n\n\"I'm the bridge head, didn't you see the sign?\"\n\nThe face comes into focus, it's the head of an incredibly pale man with facial hair that looks like some sort of damn civil war general. He looks at you with eyes that look like two black earth worms fighting over a pearl. Underneath the pallid skin you see the occasional hints of crawling and seething. \n\n\"What the hell is a bridge head?\" \n\n\"Suffice to say your people and my people made a pact a long time ago, I keep the crossings safe, and in return you pay my toll. I assume you saw the sign, did you bring a toll?\" \n\n\"I'm sorry.\" You manage to squek out in a hoarse high pitched panicked voice. \"I had no idea about any of this, I didn't bring anything, I have no idea what you want. I have money, I have one hundred dollars in my wallet is that enough?\" The words tumble out in one long jumble as you hope to find the right words to appease this creature. \n\n\"Sorry but we deal in the currency of the old times, the times of the primal and the animal. We deal in bone, blood and flesh here\" It's then that you realize that the pale head of the unknown southern gentlemen is connected to something. A writhing mass of slimy black tendrils pumping with black blood. It looked like those diagrams of the circulatory system in the old biology text books, veins twisting and turn forming some sort of shape but without any skin to cover it up. \nThe tendrils brought the head closer to your face. \"And by the sound of it, you didn't bring nothin to pay the toll with did ya?\" \n\n\"I'm not sure what you mean by blood and bone or whatever, what are you asking for?\" \n\n\"Well most people bring me an animal, like a goat, or a cow, the smallest I'll accept is a chicken, they pay in flesh.\" It's head whips and drifts around and eyes you as it speaks, sizing you up for the choicest parts. \"What I'm getting at is since far as i can tell you didn't bring anything like that along, you'll have to pay your pound of flesh from a more personal reserve.\" \n\nYou try hard not to let the sheer horror of the situation flood your thoughts, but you feel like the dam you've got your finger in is abut to crumble. \"Well you're right I don't have anything like that at all, but I'll tell ya what I'll turn around right now, and buy you a whole cow or something and bring it back here just for you. D-d-does that sound fair?.\" \n\n\"I'm so sorry pardner, but you're already half way across. You've already used my services, and i can't risk you going back on our transaction. You've got to pay for what you already used, and I see you eyeing the river, thinking of jumping in to swim away in dereliction of your obligation.\" As he says that thousands of tendrils whip around in the water causing it to froth like a pool of piranhas. \"The head you're speaking to is the head of the last man who tried to go back on a deal. So let's get down to brass tacks shall we? I consider myself to be a fairly reasonable entity, the smallest thing I'll accept is a chicken, so you'll have to give me a chicken's worth of meat. If I take your buttocks and a bit of you're thigh I bet we can cover the cost. Does that sound fair?\" \n\nIt takes you a moment for the realization of what he's asking to dawn on you \"WHAT!? No, please no, look I'll get you fifty chickens. I'll buy you a chicken farm, just please don't hurt me. I'll come back with whatever you want.\" \n\n\"People don't realize how vulnerable they really are on a bridge, what all could go wrong, what convenience they've been given. I could take from the heel to the knee but you wouldn't have much of a leg left. Maybe a breast and some of your forearm? That looks quite meaty. I recommend the buttocks and the belly, most people want to lose that anyways, but the drive home I suspect will be quite unpleasant. I'll let you choose though, it's only fair.\" \n\nYou try to fight back the panic, in the back of your mind all sorts of first aid and half remembered advice from TV hospital shows about where arteries are and what wounds are survivable. \"I guess my left butt cheek, and then you'll let me go?\" \n\n\"Oh no, I'm quite sorry but for you, it's gonna have to be both butt cheeks. Ain't no way one of your cheeks by its lonesome is gonna weigh 8 pounds.\" \n \n You're suddenly filled with regret about all that work you put into your beach body. You weigh your options once more. You look into the river and see the water frothing with the movement of the tendrils. You see draped over the roof of the bridge even more tendrils. They're all connected together as one like a big slimy spider web. The butt cheeks don't have much muscle on them. No arteries as far as you can remember. It's either this or dying. You don't have any other choice. You stand up, close your eyes, grit your teeth and feel every muscle in your body clench in fear. You say through gritted teeth \"I guess take them both then\" and wait to feel some bite, or rip or tearing or burning. Ready to scream in pain and drive away to a hospital as fast as you can. You feel a sharp snap on your butt and scream out in panic, you instinctively clutch at your butt and realize it's still there. \n\n\"I'm just having a bit of fun at your expense traveler. I'll let you pass and pay later. Ain't much good for business to eat the flesh off our customers is it? But you'd best come back with a goat or something larger fore the next full moon or you'll come to regret it, understand?\" \n\n\"YES!\" you shout as you slam your body into the car seat, and lock the door. As your shaking hands fumble with the keys you see the planks of the bridge being lifted back into place to allow you to pass. You speed away and drive for a few more hours to the nearest hotel. You pass out on the bed. The next day you refuse to take any chances and pay top dollar for the biggest goat carcass at the local market. You drive back to the bridge and see no sign of the creature. You throw the goat in the river and vow to only fly to where you need to go from now on. ", "The signs were as clear as day. That's why I packed my things and left. The bag felt stuffed between my calloused fingers, leather handle riding an indent in the hard flesh. She wanted this. That's what got me walking down Great Road, the longest stretch in the country. Dying would be bliss right about now. The heat left sweat patches on my lower back, under my armpits, and in my briefs, and that was only after ten minutes on the road. She didn't care and that meant no one did. So I walked, hoping for a reason to go back. \n\nIt started with the arguments. The price of beer had become too steep in favour of fish oil capsules. Those things were half a Benjamin a cannister. You could get a beer and a bit for a pop. Talking about it seemed like riding nails on a chalkboard, so I took my drinks at the bar instead. Being absent replaced beer currency as our late night debate. Nancy said she couldn't get me sober for a minute, around her I didn't want to be. \n\nThe heat kissed my head now. Enough sweat had beaded that it was like boiling water trying to cool down a hot mug. Only the headache had already set behind my eyes and left my throat feeling like sandpaper. But I still had my peace, something I didn't get with daily wars. \n\nArguments were only the beginning. Nancy could put up a fight like a pack of street dogs. And she fought dirty. The past was never out of reach. There'd be the gentle reminder of suspected infidelity and how I'd taken so long to let her stick around. She figured I could up and leave any day. That gave birth to a plot. \n\nTalking turned to door slamming, door slamming became plate smashing, and before violence on dishes became violence on people, I dipped. It left my heart feeling all beat up and bruised. But I'd rather my heart go than her body. \n\nI wiped my brow with a handkerchief. Crossroads lined the way ahead. One sign read Mavelle Town, the other read Bill's Farm. Hiring workers. Get screwed and get lucky. Bundle of joy's, buy one get one free.\n\nThe picture showed a stack of hay and a tractor. It was an odd sign, to say the least, but it was better than Mavelle. I'd just left a town, the same old wasn't going to cut it. \n\nI let out a hot breath and started my walk. It must have gone on for thirty minutes, without a farm in sight. An approaching car caught my attention. It slowed down and pulled over in front. It was then, that I realised, the brown hatchback was mine. \n \nNancy stumbled from the driver's seat, her face beetroot red, features as wild as a storm. \"The hell are you doing, Tom?\" \n\nMy heart pounded. The headache was already getting worse. \"The hell do you think I'm doing?\" \n\n\"Honestly, you're such an idiot. Get in the car.\" She rushed toward me, grappling for the suitcase. \n\n\"Leave me be.\" Just the sight of her was enough to make my blood boil. It had been like this every minute, day in day out. I held the suitcase tighter, even as she wedged her fingers in. \n\n\"I've got better things to do!\" I said. \n\n\"So you're going to just leave us?\" \n\n\"There's been no us since you went mad.\" \n\nNancy bit down on her teeth and let a groan escape her. I thought she might go mad for real and take a bite at me. The signs were all there. I relented my grip a little on the case handle, but not enough to give it up. \n\n\"I'm not talking about us,\" Nancy said, her eyes clouding with dampness. \n\nI let my grip drop a little more, pausing to make sure I'd heard right. \"Say that again?\" \n\nNancy bit her bottom lip, glancing away, at the dirt. \n\n\"Is there something you need to tell me?\" My voice wasn't much more than a whisper. \n\nNancy looked at me, clearly fighting back tears. \"There's going to be another one of us soon. I should have . . .\" She sighed and covered her face with her hands. \"I should have. . .\"\n \n\"You should have said something.\" It all came crashing down at once, and I couldn't think, I couldn't move. \n\nNancy swallowed. \"I tried.\" \n\nI pulled her in close. \n\n\"You'll come home, won't you?\" Nancy asked. \n\nI gripped the suitcase handle in one hand and her shoulder with the other. \n\nI should have known. The signs were as clear as day. \n", "They said traveling to China was bad. \n\n\"Their toilets don't have any doors!\" one of my friends warned. \n\n\"They cut your queue every single time, no matter where you are!\" another cautioned.\n\n\"Facebook, Google, YouTube and Twitter are banned there!\" a self-proclaimed influencer friend gasped.\n\nDespite all the warnings given, no one told me about the signs. So many cautionary tales, but not a single person warned me about the level of English proficiency in China. \n\nI know, it should have been painfully obvious. Their country is literally named after the language they use. And even if I was a complete idiot in geographical knowledge, the internet should have thought me something.\n\nI was walking along a street looking for my hostel when I stumbled unto the signage. It hung above an empty yellow bin, with Chinese words I did not understand. Luckily for me, an English translation was readily available below.\n\n[\"Poisonous and Evil Rubbish.\"](http://www.seenox.org/wp-content/uploads/2014/05/Funny-Chinese-Mistranslation-19.jpg)\n\nI chuckled at the obvious typo. It had to be a typo, right? I walked up to the bin to throw the plastic bottle in my hand when a tentacle reached out and grabbed my wrist. I screamed, of course, being caught by surprise like that, while at the same time holding on to dear life while whatever that was inside the bin growled and roared.\n\nHave you ever had the urge to puke, because of a horrendous stench, while trying to scream for help at the same time? That was me. That creature was strong, threatening to drag me to god knows where. \n\nIn my panic, I searched for anything that I could use to free myself. My free hand managed to reach something solid and as I turned, I saw a fire extinguisher hanging not far away.\n\nThe English translation above it, however, indicated it was something else. A \"[hand grenade](http://www.seenox.org/wp-content/uploads/2014/05/Funny-Chinese-Mistranslation-05.jpg)\", it read. You would have thought after my initial experience, I would have somehow become wiser, but nope.\n\nDesperate to not become a monster's food, I pulled at the fire extinguisher, hoping to use it as a weapon to pummel the tentacle around my wrist. But as soon as I did that, I heard a metal click, followed immediately by a mixture of heat, light and a loud boom.\n\nThe explosion did free me from the monster alright, but the pain after that was less than welcomed. As I laid on the concrete floor, feeling the warmth of my blood seeping through my clothes, I heard the familiar sound of sirens in the distance. At least the emergency services were quick.\n\nThe last thing that I remembered as I went in and out of consciousness, was hoping that at least their hospitals were of an acceptable degree. Briefly glancing the [directory](http://www.seenox.org/wp-content/uploads/2014/05/Funny-Chinese-Mistranslation-40.jpg) as I was wheeled into the operating theater, my heart dropped.\n\n----------------\n\nWhat's a story without real-life examples? I write at /r/dori_tales\n\n" ]	6
	[WP] Arthur Weasley discovers what the Internet is.	[ "It was a good thing she had the house to herself today, Hermione mused, poring over a lengthy parchment. She had a veritable avalanche of paperwork to get through. Distractions, even ones as dear as her husband, were not what she needed. She was finally making headway with the Department for the Control and Regulation of Magical Creatures. Her signatures here could make a real difference in the lives of British house elves. Oh, the Department was obstinate, but not half so obstinate as Hermione Granger, crusader for--\n\nBang. Thump. Clatter.\n\nHer hand went automatically to her wand. The abandoned quill rolled onto the desk and left a blot of ink. \"Ron?\" She took a cautious step toward the door of her office. \"Is that you?\"\n\nCrazed footsteps--someone was barrelling up the stairs. Hermione prepared a slew of spells to immobilize the intruder.\n\n\"Hermione!\" The stranger burst through the door, and with a wave of relief, she saw it was just Mr. Weasley. But her nerves twinged again when she took in the state of him. Eyes wild, shoulders hunched, staring around as though he were being hunted. \"I-I'm afraid I've made a terrible mistake,\" he said.\n\nIt was strange how quickly her body flooded with memory as well as adrenaline--months in hiding, always one step from danger--\n\n\"What is it, Arthur?\" She transferred her wand's aim from her father-in-law to the door. \"What's happened?\"\n\n\"It's... Well, it's the internet.\"\n\nHermione blinked. Lowered her wand slightly. \"The... internet?\"\n\n\"Yes, yes, yes.\" He ran a hand through what remained of his hair, leaving it sticking out at a ridiculous angle. His ears were bright red. \"You see, ever since you showed me how to work it, I've been... well, Molly says obsessed, which I think is a bit of an overstatement, but really! The sheer amount of information there is to be found!\" For a moment, his expression shifted to one of misty-eyed wonder.\n\n\"It is incredible, I agree. But the terrible mistake?\"\n\n\"Ah, yes.\" Arthur removed his glasses and cleaned them with his shirttail, looking vaguely embarrassed. \"Well, I discovered how easy to is to talk to Muggles. Real, live Muggles, Hermione!\"\n\n\"Right. No one could expect you to resist such a temptation.\"\n\n\"Yes, but I seem to have made one... angry. He has become quite threatening. Normally, of course, I wouldn't feel vulnerable to a Muggle, but I'm afraid this one may well be a threat to the Statute of Secrecy itself. He says he intends to track me down.\"\n\n\"Track you down?\" Now that the danger was seeming less urgent, Hermione tucked her wand away and ushered Arthur to the armchair by the bookshelf. She turned the chair from her desk around to face him. \"How can he do that?\"\n\n\"He said something about an-- an EP address?\"\n\nHermione's brow furrowed. \"Oh, an IP address.\"\n\n\"Yes, precisely. He says I'm being traced. Can that truly be done?\"\n\n\"Well, theoretically,\" she admitted. \"What on earth did you say to this person?\"\n\n\"Oh! I was trying out some of my internet slang!\" Arthur looked caught halfway between pride and guilt. \"I've been called a 'noob' once or twice so I thought I'd try the word out on someone. The fellow seemed, er, less than receptive.\"\n\n\"That's it?\" Hermione wasn't sure if she wanted to sigh or laugh. \"Arthur, I doubt he's a real threat to you. He was just trying to scare you. In fact, odds are he's a teenager.\"\n\n\"Oh, no, Hermione.\" He pointed a grave finger at her as if to silence her assumption. \"That's the most worrying part of it all. He's not only an adult, but he's part of the American Muggle military.\"\n\nSomething in Hermione's memory itched. \"He is?\"\n\n\"And he tells me he's made over three hundred kills. Imagine! The things Muggles do to one another.\" Arthur shook his head. \"He also assured me that he is unusually skilled in the art. Is it really possible for one Muggle to kill another with his bare hands?\"\n\n\"Arthur...\"\n\n\"Oh, I haven't even mentioned the secret network of spies. Not to mention... the gorillas.\"\n\n\"Arthur, I don't think this is anything you need to worry about.\"", "The stair creaked as Mr. Weasley walked to the first floor. \"Harry? Where are you?\"\n\nA muffled reply sounded through the closed door on the left. \"I'm here, Mr. Weasley.\"\n\nWith a soft pant Mr Weasley arrived at the top of the stairs. \"Ginny asked me to talk to you about something, do you have a moment?\"\n\nThe door opened, and a man in his twenties appeared in front of it. His black hair was unkempt, but not enough to hide the outline of his lightning bolt-scar. Round glasses sat on his nose, the green eyes behind them happy as he extended his arm. \"Always good to see you, Mr. Wea- er, Arthur.\"\n\nArthur Weasley grabbed the hand in return and shook it vividly. \"Like-wise, Harry. So, anyway, Ginny asked me-wait a second\", he paused, \"is that a computer?\" He shifted his feet and leaned on his toes to glance past Harry.\n\nHarry couldn't help the faint smile that appeared on his face. Mr. Weasley had always been a Muggle-freak, interested in just about everything that concerned them and their activities. \"Yeah,\" Harry replied, as he gestured Mr. Weasley to follow him into the room. \"I just use this as my office now, basically. Lots of things magic can replace but this is still a handy thing to have.\"\n\n\"It's splendid.\" Mr Weasley's eyes lit up as he walked towards the desk. \"I haven't seen a computer since, two, no- three years ago. One of my colleagues seized one but before I'd arrived back at the office they'd already wiped it clean and send it back. Very unfortunate.\"\n\n\"You can use it, if you want, I wasn't doing anything particularly interesting,\" Harry said, as he offered Mr. Weasley his chair. \"Do you want me to explain you how it works?\", he added, another grin forming on his face as Mr. Weasley tried to move the cursor by dragging his finger over the screen. \"Funnily enough that's not as strange as it used to be, but here,\" he pointed at the mouse, \"that's where you control it with. Move around and the cursor will follow, and click with the left button and you select something.\"\n\nMr. Weasley carefully placed his hand on the mouse, as if it was a brittle new-born that would break under his grip. Slowly but surely he edged it over the mousepad, and clicked on a file. A text document appeared on the screen in a flash, causing Mr. Weasley to startle backwards. \"Ingenious,\" he mumbled in himself. \"Marvelous what they can come up with.\"\n\n\"That's just a tax file, from the Muggle side of things,\" Harry explained. \"But what I think you'll find really interesting is that thing over there,\" he pointed on the screen, \"the Internet. Yes, that's right, hover over it, and now click twice. Oops, sorry, my bad, twice in rapid succession. Then it should load, yes, there we go.\"\n\nA white screen with colorful letters had appeared on the screen. \"What is this, Googul?\", Mr Weasley asked.\n\n\"Well, it's a search engine, basically. Think of it like this: it has access to loads of things on the internet, and if you type something in with the keyboard here, it will give you thousands, millions of results related to the thing you searched for. So let's say, London, you'll get pictures, statistics, maps, you name it.\" Harry somewhat enjoyed the irony of him explaining something so simple as a computer\nto someone from the Magic world, as everything they had explained to him after his eleventh birthday had been equally absurd, if not more, for his Muggle raised-self.\n\n\"So everything is in there, in the computer?\" Mr. Weasley asked, poking at the screen.\n\n\"Not quite in there, that's the screen, but in the computer, in the case over there,\" he gestured, \"some files are stored. But the internet, no. Think of the internet like...like a network. Like the Floo network, but then instead of fireplaces you have computers. And then where you travel in is the internet, and it's filled with just about everything.\"\n\n\"Unbelievable,\" Mr. Weasley muttered. \"So if I use this, let me see here,\" he said as he steadily placed the keyboard in front of him and started pushing buttons, \"so I should be able to find something about this...\" He finished typing. \"And what now?\"\n\n\"Press the enter button on the keyboard, it's right in the middle, yep, that one. There you go.\"\n\n\"0 results!\", Mr. Weasley exlaimed. \"I think it's broke!\" With a panicky look in his eyes he turned to Harry. \"Don't tell me I just broke the internet, Harry!\"\n\nHarry laughed. \"No sir, it's fine, but as you should know, the Ministry removes just about everything there is related to us, even on the internet. So you're not going to find anything about...Quidditch.\"\n\n\"Ah yes, of course.\"\n\n\"But\", Harry said as he leaned over the keyboard and typed in something, \"you could watch a video of something like this, I'm sure you'll find that interesting.\"\n\nA red with white bannered website started to play a video of a massive passenger plane lifting off. The roar of the engines through the speakers startled Mr. Weasley again, but he leaned forward again and enthusiastically stared at the screen. \"So you guys can use moving pictures, and even with sound! Quite the improvement over your newspapers, if I may say so.\"\n\nAnd forgetting what he initially came to do, the two men sat in the office for another half an hour exploring a new and massive world of wonder." ]	2
	[WP] With no strength left, you can but watch as the archer lets loose his arrow, and you feel a strange calm settling. The next thing you know, you are looking at a back you remember so well, that lovely familiar scent, with the arrowhead sticking out of it. A chill travels through you.	[ "Sweet. Maybe a little metallic. It’s heavy, thick even. Your mind recognizes it and kicks adrenaline in. The scent of blood is enough to heighten the senses of any man. It’s one thing to have a nose bleed and experience the smell. It’s a whole other experience to see hundreds of corpses bathing it in all around you. I might never cook meat again. The scent of my brothers burning flesh is something akin to a roast, but far more revolting. Mead can make a man feel like the world is turning around him, sure, but the ache in my head makes seeing anything clearly nearly impossible. I’ve been tired before after a day’s hard work in the fields, or after traveling for a week to the next city, but nothing compares to this exhaustion. A man may see fights in his life, but that will never prepare him for war. War is blood, war is horror, war is pain, war is and unending and absolute. I have lost this war. \n\nHe saw me, kneeling here. He was among the few left alive on their side of this battlefield.\n\nI was all that was left of my side. Was. Of course he knew this, as he cautiously approached me with the bow in his hand. Only two arrows were left in the quiver on his back. \n\nMy my, we were busy today, hmm? \n\nHe took one of them from the quiver slowly, as he marched closer and closer to my wheezing, crippled body. It was a wonder to me that I managed to keep upright, at least while crouching on one knee. I hadn’t noticed the smell of blood so strongly before, in the heat of battle. \n\nDo I smell my blood or those around me?\n\nAnother shuttered breathe passed my lips and he was another foot closer to me. The bringer of my death. The patron saint of my end. Might as well have been every fear I’d ever had walking towards me slowly, ever so cautiously. \n\nMight as well accept it. Just close your eyes. Bow before defeat, and sleep deeply when it’s over. \n\nI chuckled low to myself at the acceptance of my own doom, and was rewarded with pain a spasm up my torso. I thought bitterly of how quite the battlefield was now. With so many dead there was little left to make any sort of noise. A breeze highlighted my many cuts and wounds, but was still somehow pleasant. It was almost calm. Eyes closed, death approaching, and body broken my final thought led to her.\n\nBubbly honey mead golden as the sun was nothing as colorful as her hair. The sun itself shown with her brilliance. Green eyed, plumb lipped and full of heaven itself. Her voice was like the first time you heard music, every time she spoke. The rising and falling of her cadence was more magnificent than any bard. The way she said my name. \n\n“Arlok,” she’d say. With emphasis on the A and a rolling of the R. \n\nI’ll die with her in my mind. \n\nThe scent she carried wasn’t fruity, or of a meadow in the spring. It wasn’t a river dancing down the icy mountains or even a breeze that tells of changing seasons. It was flesh and blood. It was warmth and love. It was human in every way and it was love. \n\nAn arrow. Figures. \n\nThat scent left with her life. An arrow entered and exited her body. When it left it took her life and her scent. It took my sanity. It took every life that I’ve crushed in my hands since she passed. One arrow, and a hundred dead. \nThe arrow about to pierce my skull won’t kill that many. Maybe it will lead me to her. \n\nThrough tears and blood I can see the man has stopped before me. I guess he’s decided he’s close enough to end this war. To end my life once and for all. \nI can’t smell her anymore. I can’t… all I had in this world. My vengeance, my rage. All gone. Now only sorrow. Crippling, agonizing, blazing sorrow. This arrow will feel wonderful compared to the black hole in my heart. \n\nCreaking.\n\nThe twang of a bow string.\n\nSomething bellowing through the air. \n\nThunk. Metal in flesh. \n\nI’m dead. \n\nMy death was painless. I never even felt the arrow as I collapsed. Oddly enough death is pretty exhausting. Is hell supposed to smell like burning flesh and blood? I suppose that would make sense. \n\nI opened my eyes to the battlefield and a pair of boots. Between the pair of boots I saw my killer, lying on the ground with an arrow protruding from his forehead. I didn’t have the strength to look up passed the boots. \n\nWho was still alive? We lost… we are all dead. I’ll die before I figure out who gave me a few more seconds of life. At least there’s hope we can continue on. \nI thought that it was time to die. Time to leave this wretched wreaking battlefield. Just as I felt myself giving in to the dark embrace that faced me, the scent of the world around me changed just slightly. For but a fraction of a second I smelled warmth, and love. Someone said my name. \n\n“Arlok, please! Breathe!” She shrieked. All music in her voice was gone. Just terror and pain now. \n\nThe world takes everything. Even the music is gone. \n\nI passed into the darkness filled with pain and regret. I’ll never hear her music again. \n\n\n\n\n\n\n" ]	1
	[WP] Write the best mystery story you can write, from the perspective of Grant. A third grader, trying to figure out who stole his pencil.	[ "Taking a seat at my desk, I drew a deep breath. I already knew what had happened. The paper was there, the singular yellow crayon with it’s wrapping, sticker thing, was partly torn, but it was missing. \n\nI closed my eyes, I didn’t want to have to go back to that life. I was done with it. Last recess I’d promised myself I was out of the game. \n\nMy fists clenched, I slowly opened my eyes. My pencil, not any normal pencil, it was…one of those ones, you know, where it’s like you click it like a pen and bit comes out? But that didn’t matter, it could’ve been anything of mine. I knew this would come back to me one day. A man can only walk the thin line of good and evil before evil takes revenge. So be it. Don’t say I didn’t warn you. \n\nI cleared my throat loudly, Mrs Paskins looked at me…with what? Was there something in her eyes? How much could I really trust her? There were no other options. She spoke in that tone that most teachers speak, annoyed, frustrated, maybe a bit constipated. \n\n“What is it Kevin?” she said, “Firstly, it’s Kelvin. Secondly, I think it’s story time. And I have made one all by myself to share with the class”. Mrs Paskins sighed and tried to roll her eyes. I couldn’t care, I already knew how this was going to end and I was prepared for it. \n\nShe raised a hand, and like sheep they all stopped doing what they were doing, she spoke “Looks like Kevin has finished his story and would like to come up and share. Can you put your pencils down for five minutes”\n\nI picked up my toothpick and put it in the corner of my mouth. I walked, slow. Taking a long look at all of them. Rats. I got to the front, nodded at Mrs Paskins and mouthed “Kelvin”. She didn’t care. But I did. \n\nI took the toothpick out of my mouth and using it as a sword I pointed it across the room. They waited with baited breaths. Good. Let them sweat it out. I put the toothpick back in my mouth and slid my hand in my pocket…uh oh. \n\nIn flashbacks it came to me. Just before going to the toilet. I slipped the pencil in my pocket because I knew none of them would be able to resist getting their hands on it. This was not good and would take all of my mental strength to get out of without a scrape. \n\n“I’m a little tea pot, short and…” before I could finish, just as I had predicted, Mrs Paskins shout out “that Kevin is not an original story. Can you please take your seat and write a story about what you did during the summer?” her eyes narrowed. My eyes narrowed “It’s Kelvin”. ", "My eyes narrowed as they jumped from suspect to suspect. It could have been any of them, really. They all act so innocent, diligently writing. I could be writing. I want to be writing. But one of these poopheads did it. So here I am.\n\nWas it Maria? Out for revenge for the time I beat her in foursquare? Or maybe it was Tommy. He probably has some grand scheme to ruin me because I played with Evan last recess.\n\t\n“Grant?” I was torn from my thoughts.\n\t\n“y-yes, Mrs. Wilks?”\n\t\n“Are you okay? Have you started on the assignment yet?”\n\t\n“N-no. I mean, Yes, I’m okay. C-can I go to the bathroom?”\n\t\n“How many bathroom passes do you have left?”\n\t\nI scowled. Not many. My reserves were running low and I had to keep the rest for emergencies. But gosh darn it, if this wasn’t an emergency, I don’t know what is! “I-I have two!”\n\t\n“Okay, don’t take long! You only have ten more minutes to finish up your work!”\n\t\nMy eyebrows furrowed as I stalked the halls. Maybe I need to look at the bigger picture. What if it was Mrs. Wilks? No, she wouldn’t do that. I have to look at the evidence. Replay the story.\n\t\nIt was 11:17 when I noticed something was amiss. I sat down at my desk and something about it felt empty. Kara, my tablemate, was avoiding my glance as I searched for my pencil. Suspect Number One. I got up for water, to get a bird’s eye view of the room. Calvin was laughing with Evan. But Tommy was silent. Maybe he knows something. Maybe he did it. Suspect number Two.\n\t\nMaria stuck her tongue out at me when she realized I was scrutinizing her. She always did hate me, and this is right up her alley. Suspect Number Three.\n\t\nI made it to the bathroom safely and began to pace in front of the urinals. Which of these buttfaces would go so far as to take that which is dear to me? It was my favorite pencil, gosh darn it! It had little dinosaurs printed on it!\n\t\nWait. Dinosaurs. The only person who loves dinosaurs more than me would be—The bathroom door opened. I ducked into a stall.\n\t\n“Grant?” Kevin. Suspect Number Four. Probably here to gloat about how he stole it. “Mrs. Wilks sent me to get you ‘cause you’ve been gone for a while.” A likely story. I kept my mouth shut. “Grant?” I heard the bathroom door shut behind him and I slowly exited the stall.\n\t\nThis is it, the showdown. It has to be him. It’s all too perfect. He even came in from recess before me. “Y-you just couldn’t take it, could you Kevin.”\n\t\n“huh?”\n\t\n“You couldn’t take having me have a better pencil than you.”\n\t\n“Your dinosaur one?”\n\t\nMy eyes narrowed. “yes, my dinosaur one.”\n\t\n“Yeah, it’s pretty cool I guess. Mrs. Wilks wants you come back now.” He turned and left the bathroom. He didn’t seem nervous at the confrontation at all. There was no guilt on his face. No panic as the realization that I knew set in. Maybe he wasn’t the one.\n\t\nI splashed my face with some water. This case was getting to me. I need a drink. Something strong. Maybe some orange juice. This’ll just have to wait until after lunch.\n\nEDIT: I don't know how to format..." ]	2
	[WP] "You insulted the shark. Now apologize."	[ "\"Right now, apologize!\" the tour guide nearly yelling at me said.\n\n\"I'm sorry I said that about all of your teeth, Clarence, I think you're really cool\" I said, staring at the shark hovering in the water beyond the layered glass tank window.\n\n\"Think nothing of it, human, we are of a different species, of course we will have our differences.\" the shark replied after the few seconds it took for a computer to translate what I had said and beam it into the sharks mind, and back into a speaker in the observation room at the zoo.\n\n\"Man, they really got carried away with that brain mapping research. Talking sharks? What the hell?\" I whisper to my 13 year old daughter, who's face was bright red with embarassment. \"I. Hate. You. Take me home now.\"\n\nI just wanna go talk to the dolphins again, they were nice. " ]	1
	[WP] The earth resets to a far past, the only thing that lacks there is that time's humanity, and the only thing that persisted is us, the 7 billion humans from 2017.	[ "So 10 months ago the earth ressetted yet all 7 million people stayed on earth. \n\nAt first people tried to stay calm but that didn't work for long. \n\nI was put into a forest with all my friends in the car with me during the reset. \n\nThey tried to kill me because I pissed them off so I ran. \n\nTwo days after my escape I hear a massive explosion.\n\nI find a massive clearing that had three things in it, \n\nA white guy only wearing basketball shorts,\n\nA camera,\n\nAnd a massive space shuttle ready to launch.\n\nHe looks at the camera and says \"That's it for primitiveTechnology, it's been a good run.\".\n\nI go up and ask him how he did this since society reset. \n\nHe asked me what the fuck am I talking about. \n\nHe's been living in the forest forever and has no idea that society has fallen.\n\n._." ]	1
	[WP] One day you discover your middle name is Danger	[ "\"You're saying that your mother had the last name of 'Danger' and you never knew about it?\"\nChris, in his spider undies, said as he prepared a pot of coffee.\n\n\"For 24 years, I've never thought to ask what was her last name was.\" I nodded as I was accepting the cup of joe. We sat in silence listening to the traffic outside. \n\n\"I mean,\" Chris took a sip, \"who would?\" He set his cup down, \"It doesn't make you a bad son, I still don't know what my mom's first name is!\" \n\nI started coughing a fit,\"This coffee is crap and how do you not even know your own mother's name?\" \n\nHe leans forward, \"That's not the point, the point is that people forget to ask specific questions you should've asked when you first met them.\"\n\n\"Like, how many pairs of Spider-Man underwear does my divorced forty-two year old roommate own?\"\n\nSilence.\n\n\"You.\" Chris slowly stood from his chair, \"Do not.\" He points his finger at me,\"Mention.\" He leans in closer, \"The lucky undies.\" He stands over the table for an uncomfortable amount of time. \n\n\"How many?\" I replied to break the silence.\n\n\"Sixty-nine.\" Chris said, without missing a beat. I shook my head while trying not to giggle . Chris may be twice my age, but he's the closest thing I have to a friend. \"So what do you say we head out tonight to find that mythical thirty-something red headed super model virgin that look suspiciously close to that girl in 204 I've dreamed about for the past decade, Mr. David DANGER Decker? Or should I say, 'Triple D'?Would you choose to accept this mission?\"\n\nI took offense, \" The whole middle name thing didn't even come from James Bond or Mission Impossible, and you didn't even say-\" \n\nHe shushes me, \"With you by my side, 'Triple D', i now have a new line of pickup lines to try on the elusive female.\" He walks out with just his Spider-Man undies. \n\n\"How much of that 'special' brownie did you eat...\" I looked down to see the entire batch wiped clean. \n\n\"Enough to kill Snoopy, my dear friend.\" \nHe said as he jumped off the roof of the building. \n\n\n" ]	1
	[WP] You are an elder god. While drifting through the curtain of reason, you swerve to avoid a human. Unknown to you, the human pledges a life debt to you. In your darkest hour, the human arrives.	[ "Existence is a tricky thing.\n\nFor the mortals, drifting through their almost imperceptibly short lives on their material plane, it is a test of will and faith.\n\n\nThey are faced with something most immortals have never considered, let alone confronted with only a stalwart stare and sturdy heart as their weapons.\n\n\n\nAye, and the mortals find themselves stricken with fear and despair, pain and destruction, woe and existential dread.\n\n\nThey live so little, but in the same time they live so large.\n\nThey live, and in doing so they leave their marks across the aeons in a way that makes all yearn for immortality in their own way.\n\n\nSome have left behind monuments which whisper of gods and bellow of the dead.\n\nSome have left behind scars which balk at divine direction and wail of mortal shortsightedness.\n\nMost are echoes which last for but a generation after their gone, while fewer loom so large their names drift like phantoms through the ages to light upon the lips of so many who never knew the soul which answered to that call.\n\n\nThe most remarkable thing mortals have accomplished, and in that which so very few have managed that it is not even a percentage viable for study, is the ascension.\n\n\nSince time immemorial, I have watched the creations of all other gods.\n\n\nI have counted my clocks and watched their arms.\n\n\nI have lingered in the void, seeing all that was and all that is and all that will be.\n\n\nI have known since all began, and since all ended, that the day would come when but one mortal would finally come and rescue that which was meant to be in peril.\n\n\nThe lines between planes fade to time.\n\n\nTime continues.\n\n\nForever forward, forever backward.\n\n\nThe mortals must look back to see what was, and in doing so they lose sight of what is and could be.\n\n\nThey look ahead and see what could be, and in doing so lose sight of what is and what was.\n\n\nI have waited for this moment and lived it for eternity...\n\n\nI am the father of time and the mother of timelessness. The eldest and youngest, for all others must bend to my being, but the most isolated of all that is. I have always known that my cruelty would end, and it is in this moment of true eternity that I welcome that which I have never been able to experience...\n\nForever in the void, I welcome oblivion. And in doing so I celebrate my own and another's ascension.\n\n\n\n\nAs the hermit laid his head to rest on the hay pillow the farmer's had brought for him, he felt a heavy weight settle onto his chest.\n\nEvery breath seemed harder, every moment seemed slower. He could feel his heart slow and his body ached, yet his eyes remained true and unclouded by the ages he had witnessed.\n\n\nIn the doorway of a small cottage, surrounded by the trappings of a farm, a weathered farmer and his morosely beautiful wife watched as the hermit who had arrived only days before seemed to shrink further and further in on himself in their eldest daughter's bed.\n\n\nUnwilling, or perhaps unable to speak, the hermit had been nothing if not a silently caring soul who seemed to know the end was near. Through their own virtue, the farmer and his wife had taken the hermit in from the ravages of the outside in hopes they could help him.\n\n\n\"Is there anything we can do?\" The farmer's wife quietly quivered to her husband.\n\n\n\"Nay, this is his time. 'F'only he'd told us what his name was so we could bury him proper.\" The farmer scratched his chin as he muttered, \"'F'only...\"\n\n\nThe moment before the end, for a mortal, is their glimpse into eternity. It is only then that they see as I see. And it is a fleeting glimpse. But one has found the way...\n\n\nThe hermit felt his heart stop. Instead of beginning again, it simply completed a beat. The drums of the war against death went quiet in his ears, as it must for all in the struggle against inevitability.\n\nHis eyes were wide as he looked ahead, but he could no longer see the material plane.\n\nHe saw ghosts of his life, all those he had loved and lost, all those he had hated and kept, all those he had never known and never had. He saw those phantoms drifting from time to time and their names like smoke from the lips of people never having know who they called out. \n\nExistence is a tricky thing.\n\nThe planes are forever connected and forever disconnected. Between them is the place where time is not and nothing is. It is the void, but not oblivion. It is a place where everything isn't but is. The glimpse most have into eternity, the forever and the never, is fleeting.\n\n\nThe hermit had not spoken since his vows a century gone, and as he stared into eternity he saw everything and nothing. A tear broiled forward from each of his eyes, then, and the farmer and his wife watched these as the hermit's tired lips sagged into a frown.\n\n\n\"Is this my fate?\" The hermit's voice wheezed out of him along with the last breath his body would ever have.\n\n\nI have found my way, and you have found yours. Welcome to your rightful place.\n\n\nThe farmer's wife let out a small cry as the hermit's voice dissipated into the room. She hurried away, unwilling to face the reality of inevitability.\n\nThe farmer austerely walked toward the hermit's body and stared down on him. A withered body, thin and masticated from the ravages of a wanderer's life. He wondered at how long the man's beard had been, now tucked beneath the covers. And as the farmer reached down to close the hermit's eyes, he saw a shadowy shape in them.\nAlmost like the phantom circle when you look to directly at the sol, except the farmer was shocked to see such shapes in someone else's eyes.\n\n\nFor the farmer watched as a masticated shadow of a man with a long beard raised a hand to an identical shape, and then the two walked shoulder to shoulder, almost as though deeper into the hermit's eyes.\n\nAnd as he closed those grey eyes, closing off the two now imperceptible shadows within, he could almost hear that same voice which had only just escaped the mysterious guest he had welcomed into his home.\n\n\nIt is important to keep a promise to oneself." ]	1
	[WP] Everyone is convinced that the universe is a simulation, you think otherwise. You go on a walk to prove to yourself that everything is real and there's no way that all of this is a simulation. While thinking, off in the distance, you see a dead pixel.	[ "Lloyd stormed down the street, laughter still echoing behind him. \n\nFuck all of them, thinking they were so enlightened and that they had the entire world, no, the entire universe, figured out. How could they be so arrogant? So conceited beyond belief? \n\n\"They're all just dissatisfied with their own lives\" Lloyd thought to himself. He'd recognised his coworker, Toby Carter, among those who'd taunted and laughed at him. The same man who'd created a breakthrough technology which would lead to incredible fuel efficiency on ships, only to have the idea stolen from him before he could patent it. \n\nHis wife had been so excited about the prospect of financial security, the idea of a husband who could help her raise the kids and be there full-time for the family while still having money coming in from the patent. After it was stolen they'd gone into a downwards spiral, his wife never got pregnant and 3 months later she left him. \n\nSince then all Lloyd had ever seen Toby do was drink, he'd show up late to work regularly, he'd lost all inspiration and drive, the only reason he even still had a job was because his boss took pity on him. \n\nYes, Lloyd thought, the crowd was made up of people like Toby Carter, people who took comfort in the notion that none of it was real, that it was all just a fabrication and there was no greater meaning to anything. Lloyd knew otherwise. \n\nAfter three whole years of slogging away at his same old job, living alone in a tiny apartment and watching the girl of his dreams from afar, Lloyd had just experienced the best lucky break of his 32 year old life. Just a month ago Lloyd had been picked for a promotion, a promotion that let him move into a much nicer apartment overlooking the river and gave him a new passion for his job that made him excited to go into work each and every day. Not only that but he'd finally had the courage to ask the beautiful girl, Lila, who worked across the road, out on a date. For the last three years she'd been all Lloyd wanted, and she'd said yes. \n\nLloyd knew that he shouldn't get his hopes up too high, he'd barely even spoken to Lila before and despite thinking she was lovely he didn't know too much about her. His friends and coworkers had constantly warned him that she might let him down, he might finally go out with her after all this time and there would never be that spark he'd always dreamed of, but he was one of the lucky ones. \n\nThe first date had been incredible, he'd kissed her on an empty bridge in the moonlight to the sound of the river lapping against the bank below. He'd stared into her gorgeous wide eyes with tears blurring his vision, and never been so happy in his life. They'd clicked from the moment they'd sat down, they had so much in common and just had that... feeling, the feeling where you would just look at the other person, see what they felt for you, and just know it was all going to be all right. \n\nLloyd wasn't going to let a bunch of Toby Carters tell him that their failures and his success weren't for real. He wasn't going to let them drag him down and pull themselves up, Lloyd had worked to get where he was, he'd waited and he'd paid more than his dues, he was never going to give this up, no matter what. \n\nLloyd froze in his path, and looked to his left, the sounds of the mob's taunts had long since disappeared behind him. \n\nOn the side of the Chinese takeaway situated to his left, Lloyd saw a white spot. It was maybe a centimeter cubed, completely out of place with the building's brown facade. It wasn't just painted white or faded paint though, it looked like the spot was just... missing. Lloyd tried to touch it, his finger went straight through. He put his hands on his head, grabbing handfuls of his hair. \n\nLloyd knew exactly what this was. \n\nA dead pixel, not only did this mean that he was in fact in a simulation, but that in all likelihood someone had seen him discover the dead pixel, and probably wasn't too happy about it. \n\nNo sooner had he walked five metres than a door manifested in front of him. No flash, no sparkle, it just appeared. \n\nTwo men in suits walked out, they looked normal but were very tall, at least 6'5'', and looked very similar, like they were brothers or something. \n\nThey grabbed Lloyd, ignoring his yells of protest, and pushed him through the door. \n\nLloyd emerged into what looked like a gigantic server room: A giant room filled with beeping machinery as far as the eye could see. Without a word the two men dragged Lloyd into a dimly lit office and pointed to a chair, indicating for him to sit down. \n\n\"Well\" one of the men said, pacing around and consulting a paper on his desk \"Lloyd Webster is it?\" He glanced at Lloyd, who nodded. \"My friend you've just found the first ever conclusive evidence that your existence is a simulation, now I'm sure you understand we've had to remove you from it, and right now we've got to consult the high-ups on your fate.\"\n\nLloyd shook his head, still dumbstruck by his situation.\n\n\"But I don't get it\" he said \"you look like normal humans, why aren't you aliens or something? Also tonnes of others have figured out it's a simulation, why aren't you silencing them?\"\n\nThe man sighed. \n\n\"I suppose you deserve an explanation\" he said. \"We're normal humans because your simulation is not only an interesting experiment but an entertainment program, regularly broadcast to the people of this world. Of course people would rather watch real human beings with familiar problems and dreams than some obscure aliens to whom they cannot relate. As for the others who believe the world is a simulation, simulism, as we call it, will always remain something like a religion. Some will be utterly convinced of it, others will call it nonsense. Either way it will never gain enough traction to threaten the actual proof of the simulation. There's simply no evidence supporting it.\"\n\n\"Until you showed up.\" the other man cut in.\n\n\"Yes\" the first man resumed. \"With your claim about the dead pixel people might actually start taking simulism seriously, and we can't have that.\" he finished. \n\n\"What happens to you\" the second man said softly \"is uncertain, as my colleague said, but we do have a way of dealing with your absence.\" He pointed to a screen on the side of the office, and Lloyd looked at is curiously, only to be struck with horror as he saw an exact copy of himself stepping out a similar door to the one he had exited through, the door then disappeared behind him. \n\nLloyd watched as the man walked down the street towards Lloyd's office, and proceeded to enter the building and scream horribly offensive insults at Lloyd's boss. Lloyd then watched, aghast, as his boss promptly fired Lloyd's replacement on the spot.\n\n\"No!\" Lloyd yelled \"I worked years for that job! What are you doing?\" One of the men looked at Lloyd and explained.\n\n\"You might never return to this world\" the man said calmly \"as a result we need to sever all connections you might have to this world, so no-one will miss you if you are gone.\"\n\nLloyd looked on in horror as the man returned to Lloyd's apartment, which he opened with a key.\n\n\"We have all your data on file\" one of the men said, anticipating Lloyd's question \"including the exact details of the key to your residence\"\n\nLloyd's eyes widened as he saw what his replacement was doing. \n\nHe was preparing for Lloyd's date with Lila. \n\nLloyd screamed in his chair as he saw what was coming. No, he couldn't have that connection severed. One of the huge men restrained him as he begged desperately\n\n\"Don't ruin what I have with her! I'll be miserable forever, please please just leave her alone!\" Lloyd's shouts turned to sobs as he watched his replacement walk out the door in the direction of the park where he was meeting Lila.\n\nContinue?\n\n/r/wptoss for more writing" ]	1
	[WP] Musicals have replaced essays in education to "bridge curriculums." It's finals season, and you haven't gotten a musical bone in your body.	[ "The sweat begins to fall from my brow. Picture me, Kevin Jance. 18, going on 19, a 3.8 student. A 4.0 student if you remove my B from my criminal justice class. I don't care how close I was to a 4.0, you will not get me to participate in A dancin' with a Manson: An original play by Charles Heshlon. And yes, that is the same Heshlon that likely teaches you algebra class. It's Heslon's fault for all this. I was actually given 2 weeks detention for writing my own piece, which was no more than a title really, called Ending up like a 'tard, my story up until Julliard. Principal Skonson said insulting a school that was elite would hurt my chances of attending a decent college if the information became public. I argued that I had stated ended up like \"a tard\", not that Julliard specifically had caused it. I was also required to attend an after school \"elective\" about ableism.\n\nSorry, did I trail off there? My writing has deteriorated since AP Language Arts has focused more on the latter part of it's name. \n\nAll that is irrelevant mainly, because now I must sing or I'll flunk a class. Again.\n\nCurrently up is Ted Reiny. He has gone with an interesting choice of an idea for a Metallica song about math. An interesting choice mostly because I've never heard a Metallica musical and this is AP Creative Writing. The general gist of the song is that it's set to Nothing Else Matters and about the final sum of a number. Were this 7th grade, this might be good.\n\nMercifully it ends, and unmercifully it is now my turn.\n\n\n\"Kevin, are you ready?\" asks Ms. Lasko\n\n\"Yes Ma'am\" I reply\n\n\"Good, what song is this set to or did you compose it yourself?\"\n\n[\"It's set to Many A New Day from Oklahoma\"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zHtLvFbWqoQ)\n\n\"Why, that's a classic!\" I see Lasko's eyes light up\n\n\"It's also sung by a girl\", Ted replies.\n\nRegardless, I am ready. I pull out my phone, it syncs, and the song begins playing over the speakers in class.\n\n\nWhy should a student whose talent list is long, sing like a lady for his GPA? Reaching and a-failin' to write a song? \n\nThat's one thing I'll never do for the easy A, \n\nNever gonna think that the grade I lose is what will hold me back from Penn\n\nI'll crack my fingers, to show that I'm prepared, I'll write me a new test to fair\n\nI'll scrub decks and I'll cut hair\n\nAnd I'll flunk all over again.\n\nMaybe a new ace, will please my eye\n\nMaybe an idea will find me\n\nNever again will I look back to sigh over the ideas behind me\n\nMaybe the events of Dooms Day set to light tune\n\nAny of these ideas I have tried, a list set to - \"stop\"\n\nI'm abruptly cut off. \n\n\"You're doing it wrong. You're angry and mean. You need to improv more, it's forced!\" Lasko says\n\n\"You can only make what you can make\" I reply\n\n\"And only you can make Oklahoma depressing! You can make anything sound happy and upbeat!\"\n\n\"How?\" I say, noticing that the time is almost 2:15 and I will soon be free, flunking aside\n\nLasko leans over and picks up her phone.\n\n[The Fray- How To Save A Life](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cjVQ36NhbMk) begins to play.\n\nLasko smiles and everyone else cringes.\n\n\"Step one I say you need a song, You balk I say calm down it's just a song\n\nHe smiles politely back at you, you say after class I need to see you\n\nA songs a window to your life, do your best and you'll be alright\"-\n\n-\"Between your lines, I feel your shame, and I'm beginning to wonder why I came\" I interject. Despite the insult Lasko smiles wide and stops the song. \n\n\"Very good!\"\n\n\"But why should I care about this?\"\n\nThat's when another song starts to play, it's [Have A Little Priest- Sweeney Todd soundtrack](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OTOHl9nD6B0)\n\nStacey Silverman, begins to sing.\n\n\"Seems an awful waste... With the price of college what it is. When you get in. If you get in. Good thing I got in.\n\nTo fake incompetence in this Looney's AP-ie shop\n\nClasses never better, like putting butter on toast\n\nAnd this class is good for maybe six or seven credits at most\n\nAnd I'm sure*\"- the music is stopped again.\n\n\"I... appreciate the class participation, but can we not have songs about cannibalism? Please?\" Lasko ask's.\n\n\"Wait, Ms. Lasko-\" I've realized something. \"I think I get what to do now!\"\n\nIn the end, the F was well worth it.\n" ]	1
	[WP] Every night you wipe all of your memories from your brain. Every morning you realise your amnesia was intentional. Everyday you find out why	[ "When consciousness returned, there was originally little to differentiate it from what came before. Black bled into black, and all my senses struggled against that void for nought. Touch returned first, as the rough sheets upon the bed I realized I must be laying in rasped against my fingers. Though I certainly knew no such bed - in fact, I realized that I couldn't remember a single bed I had ever laid in before; but that couldn't be right, because here I was - and I'd obviously been here for some time. Why couldn't I remember - why? \n\nSmell was the next thing to catch at my brain - a slight scent of must and a thin foul odor in the air. I couldn't place it, but seeing as I still couldn't place this bedroom I wasn't ready to get particularly worried about it. Still, the smell was unpleasant, and I finally began to seriously shift on the bed, hoping to scent a breeze which might promise fresher air. \n\nNo dice. \n\nSo finally, begrudgingly, I open my eyes and let my sight take in the dim surroundings of wherever-this-was, and forced rebellious muscles to lever me into a seated position on the bed. Pain, pain enough to take my breath way. Acute, yet everywhere. My vision went red and scarlet and yellow, with dots of color dancing behind my eyes as the pain fell away to a low ache and my vision tried to return.\n\nDim was an understatement. This place was dingy. Bits and pieces of rotting food in the corners, water stains and stagnant pools in the corners, the myriad sources were quickly and easily noticeable. The only structures noticeable within the room the bed I was sitting on, an old bedside lamp, and a sturdy but dilapidated dresser on the far wall - a bottle of some kind sitting on it next to a few smaller items difficult to identify in the gloom. \n\nThen it hit me, the light was wrong. It was dark, yes - but also red. Nearly crimson. Not a shade of natural light, nor of any artificial light I'd ever seen before. It looked like... like... some sort of emergency lighting, perhaps? \n\nI stiffly rose to a standing position, getting a grip on the lamp and resting my other hand on the wall for some stability as the pain kicked again and briefly threatened to buckle my legs. I tried to click it on. There was no change, just empty clicks echoing surprisingly loudly in the small space. I realized then that the walls were concrete, bare and unpainted - affected only by water stains similar to those on the floor. \n\nShaking my head, trying to clear away the fog and remember what was going on I stepped across the room to the dresser, my footing more stable as my body relearned the art of walking. There I saw the bottle I had seen before, now clearly a half empty bottle of gin, surrounded by empty bottles, cans, and assorted detritus. I recognized pills, medications of some form, and alcohols, but couldn't focus on them - my eyes were drawn like a magnet to a cracked plastic picture frame. I recognized the man in the photo - he had to be me. But my heart fell into my stomach when I realized I couldn't recognize the woman next to me, or the children. Though I knew they must have been my wife, and kids, why weren't they here? Where were they? \n\nI shuffled across the room, still unsteady on my feet but the room small enough to allow plenty of use of the wall as a crutch. In a few steps, I reached the door set into the wall to the right of the bed, on the opposite side of the room from the lamp, and twisted it open. \n\nIt was when I saw the emergency evacuation lighting and route plans that the world snapped back into focus with a force that had me seeing stars behind my eyes. I reeled in the doorway and sank to my knees, resting my forehead against the cool damp concrete floors of the bunker. \n\nI remembered the terror, families in the King of Prussia neighborhood being forced underground along with the rest of Greater Philadelphia and most of the developed world. The first few agonizing days of silence as we sheltered in place. Then the roars, and shaking - Gods, the quakes - and the suddenly terrifying silence after the blast, as we remained in quarantine beneath the streets. \n\nThe panic when the air filtration systems failed, and the water recycling. From damage to the quake. The deaths of the early teams who went to save us. Losing my children, my wife. Everyone. \n\nI wasn't sure I was the last one in the shelter, but I was sure none of us were getting out - and that no one was coming for us. \n\nSlowly, painfully; with what I now realized were the cramps and pangs associated with hunger, and thirst, and all the other myriad failures the radiation was probably wreaking in my body I made my way back to that dresser. Measured out what was left of my small stockpile - fifty thousand people had managed to smuggle in a decent amount of contraband, and there weren't many left to share it with - and downed everything I had. Hoping that this cocktail would be the last, that I'd never again have to remember their faces. \n\nMy family. \n\nMy children. \n\nMy wife. \n\nI staggered over and fell into the bed, and waited for the darkness to sweep me away again. \n ", "He was not that great at waking up. For that reason, it was surprising how easy it was to wake up. Almost like that it was a habit. He removed some kind of machine from his head and reads \"Amnesia generator\", set on last day memories. Ah right, he got that week ago from the market. It probably was failure product, why he even bothered. After making coffee, he decided to do the usual thing, check calendar if there was something important going on. That is, where things became weird. He notices a huge sticker on top of the calendar. Before reading it, he notices, that first of all, year of the calendar is 2017, not 2015. Was that a mistake? But even so, the date is very wrong. He finally reads the sticker.\n\nThe year and date are correct. Move the marker to the next day. You have amnesia.\n\nHe moves automatically the day marker to the next day, but he is confused. If he has amnesia, shouldn't he heave to himself more information? That machine would also explain. He thought a bit more about it and reached the conclusion that it might be just a prank by his wife. His wife is coming home today, maybe she arrived already and decided to make the prank?\n\nNever the less he gets ready to work, puts on his usual formal clothing and prepares to exit the home. He notices another sticky on the front floor.\n\nYou don't have a job anymore. I prefer you not to leave. Just go play with your computer!\n\nHe became even more confused, but next to it he really had also included writing a notice of being fired. It happened 10 days after last memory he had around 2015.\n\nHe put his bags away and quietly sits behind his computer and starts googling what is going on. He soon understood that year indeed is 2017 and everything that was written was true.\n\nThat is when he noticed an icon on his screen, what has the title 'Click me'.\n\nMaybe he shouldn't click it? His curiosity got better of him though, he double clicked it and the program started. His brain was screaming, as his logic said that maybe he killed someone? Maybe his wife is dead and he tries to forget it? Maybe he is hiding? Maybe he has a huge sickness?\n\nThe program starts and he sees the huge title \"Witcher 3\" on the screen. Oh right, it was released on the next day when he went to sleep.\n\nHe started a new campaign and played it and played it. He rushed it and simply loved it and had a lust. At some point, he ordered pizza and ate it while always playing, but barely moved his eyes off the monitor.\n\nSuddenly it was night and he had credits running on the screen. He felt sadness, as it was over. The great adventure, he could enjoy only once. All those characters and memories. It was over. As he started going to sleep, he notices again that machine he had on his head in the morning. He realizes something and starts laughing. Of course.\n\nAs he gets to sleep, he deletes save files, he puts the machine on his head, turn it on and prepares to sleep. If he can forget all those memories, he can enjoy the game again.", "I awake from a state of unconsciousness. I am confused by this loud noise coming from this thing, looks like...wait this is an alarm clock I think. Yea, I was sleeping and this fancy portable alarm clock woke me up. \n\nBut that's all I know. \n\nWhere am I? What...whats going on? \n\nI look around my room for anything some kind of reference to who I am? \n\nWait...I know I'm in my room. That's good. I see a desk, chair and a computer. Ok, I know these things. I see a TV and see a remote. It tells me to press this button only, Ok lets see what happens.\n\n\"Hello there Christopher, yes...that is our name. No need to go on any further since we'll be doing this again tomorrow. So, Chris, here is what is happening. You have awoken from an amnesia induced sleep. The effects are temporary. You are in your house and you are completely safe. \n\nYou are in an amnesia state. Which means you don't remember who you are essentially. You probably already remember plenty of objects and probably the date. But WHO you are is still a mystery and it will be...for a few more mins. \n\nDoctors say you don't retain much in your amnesia state but I'm hoping this video stuff works. \n\nSo listen, Chris. Try to remember this, ok? Please.\n\nForgive yourself and move on. The long term effects of this sleep treatment is still unknown. I mean every night you, which means me, wipe out our memories just so we can get some sleep. \n\nLook, soon you are going to remember all the reasons why you wanted to do this in the first place. This is literally saving your life. You chose this over suicide. \n\nYou have made improvements. So please continue. \n\nStop overthinking okay. Just learn to love yourself a little. Please. \n\nWell, the amnesia effects should be slowly wearing off by now. \n\nDon't panic. You do this every morning. Everything will be fine. \n\nSee you tomorrow\"\n\nThe video finally stops and I finally realize why... \n", "In the morning he woke, and he was very old.\n\nAnd he asked himself, \"How could I be born so old?\"\n\nBut there were instincts in him that raised him from the bed, and he stood at the window.\n\nAnd he said, \"Wow, that's just... wow.\"\n\nFor there were rainclouds coming in like a flashing armada in the sky. And it was the first time he had ever seen that.\n\nBut he had seen it before.\n\nA small graceful robot set food for him on the table, and a dog sat at his feet while he re-learned how to eat with silverware.\n\n\"Who thought of you?\" he asked his fork and spoon. \"Who crafted you? Genius!\"\n\nAnd after a while he saw that there were letters printed on a small paper stuck to a black opaque window on the table. And the letters came into his mind and slowly congealed into this:\n\nPress here.\n\n\"Don't tell me what to do!\" he laughed.\n\nBut he pressed it.\n\nAnd the black opaque window flashed, and before him he saw a world inside a screen. He saw people that made his heart ache, and he saw himself. He watched and yearned.\n\nAnd he knew that this was long ago.\n\nBut he was wrong.\n\nFor suddenly a little girl in the screen said, \"Don't tell me what to do!\" and she laughed. And then she said, \"Okay, I'll pick up my dog tomorrow after breakfast. See you then, grandfather!\"\n\nA ringing in the house made him jump.\n\nThe small graceful robot opened a sliding glass door, and into the house stepped the girl, alive and oblivious to him, petting her dog.\n\nLord, she was beautiful!\n\n\"Dad said there's something on the TV for the football now if you want to come see it.\"\n\nShe took him by the hand and led him to the sliding glass door.\n\nAnd there across a stretch of grass was a larger house, where upon the back porch stood those people who had been in the screen - the people who made his heart ache.\n\nHis son. His son's family. His grandchildren.\n\nThey were still alive and they were waving to him.\n\n\"Come on, let's go, grandfather,\" said the little girl.\n\nShe took off across the grass with her dog, but he could not keep up with her. For the rain was starting, and he had not put on his shoes.\n\nHe held his hands out palm upwards in the rain and scrunched his toes in the grass.\n\nLord, it felt good!\n\n\"Come on, grandfather, you're getting wet!\" cried the little girl.\n\nBut he walked doddering in joy, staring at his family with a feeling inside him like his heart would burst.\n\n\"Get in here, old man!\" his son laughed when he reached the porch.\n\nAnd they brought him in and toweled him off, and he sat with them all day in wonder though all they did was spill around the house and watch TV.\n\nThen, at last he tore himself away. For the children had gone to sleep, and he saw the way his son looked at the children's mother.\n\nAnd he said to himself, \"Come along, old man! They still have living to do!\"\n\nSo, he rose and walked back across the yard to his small house, and his heart was full.\n\nAnd he sat down quietly inside. And for a long time he just looked out the window upon the wondrous stars, whispering to himself, \"Magnificent!\"\n\nThen he found underneath his hand a small plastic bag with a note that said:\n\nTake this pill and you will forget today. But it will all come back to you tomorrow, slowly, just as it did today - and it will be a day of wonder and discovery and joy.\n\nAnd he took the pill and lay down in his bed and fell asleep.\n\n-----\n\nr/droptoprocket" ]	4
	[WP] " In other news, a superhero failed to look both ways before crossing the street, and was hit by a speeding truck. The truck driver died upon impact..."	[ "-flashes of light-\n\n-pain, throbbing pulsing flashing strobing light-\n\n-sound, bright and loud and screeching-\n\nThe green of my HUD greets me as I groggily claw my way back to conscious thought. I squeeze my right fist together and a pulse of my suit's G-12 injector surges through my veins, pushing away the tunnel of black that rings my vision. I tumble head over heels, my scorched flight armor trailing smoke.\n\nGlimpses of the ground are my only reference point. I try to remember-\n\n-pain-\n\n-fuck that, time to focus on stopping my fall. I flail my arms and legs, control surfaces flexing and flaps extending from my battered wings and armored limbs. \n\nOne rotation, another slower flip, and I'm righted. The ground is now growing larger and larger in my vision. \n\nHUD instruments showing ten thousand feet and falling fast. That can't be right, last I remember I was fighting Mindflayer-\n\n-pain\n\n-at ground level, I need to stop thinking about it. I wonder-\n\n-red, pulsing pain-\n\n-how the fuck did I get up here? I've only got basic flight instruments, the main flight computer must be offline.\n\nThis is not good. Time to see how screwed I am.\n\nI flex my shoulders. The biofeedback controls still seem to work- power is fed to my flight engines, only for the screeching that had become background noise to become higher pitched and louder. \n\nSuit integrity sensors show my left flight engine is fucked. I'm not sure how else to describe it- somehow, it's still attached to the left wing joint, but the turbine is dented and skipping. Oil and hydraulic fluid weep from ruptured fluid lines. \n\nThat explains the screeching. Now to gain some power. Compensate with the right engine, shift wing alignment to maximize lift...\n\nThe right engine must be damaged as well. My eyes rapidly swipe through the multitude of warning popups and emergency notifications to find the engine status display.\n\nForeign object damage? That takes me weeks to fix, how the hell am I supposed to fix that at 10 angels in free-fall! Damn it! \n\n...make that 5,000 feet. This is bad. This is really really bad. I need thrust and I can't get nearly enough. \n\nThe white of the clouds has given way to the smog of the city. I'm dangerously low. Maybe a minute left before I pancake into the ground.\n\nThe HUD beeps- I'm saved!- the flight computer must have finished rebooting while I struggled to regain flight. I had some control now. The ground below me was now a massive wall of apartment roofs and highway overpasses- I leaned forward into my fall, gaining airspeed.\n\nI've only got one shot at this. I've got to time my flare perfectly- too late, and I smack into the ground. Too early, and I stall too high... and smack into the ground.\n\nI really don't want 500lbs of mechanized armor to smack into the ground at the speed of sound. On a good day with my armor's G-compensators operating at peak efficency, I might survive.\n\nMight.\n\nBut right now I've got a massive hole in my left wing, almost no thrust, and a barely functional flight computer. And it's time for me to stop bitching, because I'm at 500 feet and throwing my arms back-\n\n-wings shift forward, slats and flaps extend-\n\n-I swoop forward, armor shuddering, incredible amounts of force-\n\n-black yet again tinges my vision, hello my old friend \"excess G-force\"-\n\n-419 feet, 323 feet, 250 feet, 195 feet, 180 feet, 173 feet-\n\n-and I'm weaving between condos and office buildings. The streets below me are clogged with people driving home from work. \n\nThere's nowhere to land, and I'm still descending. Maybe on top of a parking garage?\n\nNope, too low. Maybe on the sidewalk?\n\nDamn it! It's too crowded. People have noticed me now. They stare and point. I wonder what they're saying, because I can't hear them over this infernal screeching-\n\n-there! A gap between cars on a narrow street! I aim towards it-\n\n-100 feet, 50 feet, my right engine gave out, here comes the grooooouuuuundohfuckohfuckohfuckohfuck-\n\n__________________________________________________________________________________________________\n\nThe armored figure skids and bounces down the road. A wing riddled with holes bends, snaps, skitters off as the body plows a furrow into the asphalt. \n\nA truck begins to turn out of a side street, its driver oblivious to the fast-approaching hero. They collide with a crunch. The driver dies on impact, the unconscious figure caving in the entire front cab. The truck rocks to the side with the hit, tips, and falls over. The winged figure slides off as the vehicle is upturned.\n\nThe silence of the scene is swiftly shattered by the sound of sirens. Mindflayer looks on from a rooftop 3 blocks away, and grins.\n\n\n\n" ]	1
	[WP] Each Leader is magically bound to the nature of the land, a harsh ruler results in barren lands, a kind results in bountiful lands.	[ "As my Father Before\n\n\n\nFor as long as I could remember our land has always been desolate.\n\nFrom that of my father to that of my grandfather and his father before him we lived in blight.\n\nWind like whips blind sight and senses in storms the fury of the gods common and lethal. Soil like ash takes flight at their behest used as arrows piercing the skin hardened from generations of torment.\nThe sun is hot, the land is cruel; yet we remain, shepherds, nomads, savages… Raiders.\n\nFor when the season’s heat rises in the east it turns a deathly cold in upon the west, we travel.\n\nAs my father had, and my grandfather, and his father and those before. We travel north, the land rich and bountiful, life good and with plenty.\n\nBut just as all fathers before had done so do I, Chief to my people, we come not in peace but with all the cruelty born from our distant cruel land.\n\nWeakness born out of pleasantry, our strength guides us, our prowess the feat of generations of suffering and torment.\n\nSkin hardened, bone thick and bodies like the storms of our creator, our home land.\n\nTheir weakness their own failing, we greater people do as greater beings do.\n\nRavishing this rich bountiful land we take what is due and make due with what we have.\n\nThat makes us stronger, greater, a cruel people born of cruel storms.\n\nOr so I believed. For as my father had, and his father and the father’s before him; all had done this for time without end.\n\nYet here I lay, my breath failing me; cruel lungs of a cruel land waning.\nI hear their slaughter. My people dying, man, woman and children; all greater people, yet here they die…\n\nFor so many generations had this not been so, for so many generations had we survived, greaters, better, we suffered through all the torments of nature.\n\nWe, bred superior… Yet here I lay, holding my chest wet, life drains from me.\n\nIt seems that after all these generations, fathers one after another, these lesser people, those who could not live among our wastes, who were made soft as the grass brushed against my cheek.\n\nThey needed not strength after all… Their strength in shining metal bright as the high noon sun. Their strength in the mind they cared, developed and bred; their movements with thought, battle considered, something beyond nature wild and strong.\n\nTheir strength came from love, a love of something greater…\nSomething more than strength. A love of what they were, these inferior people, a desire to retain all they cared.\n\nA strength of their own, a strength better?\n\nI turn cold as the nights of my cruel lands, shaking, failing, inferior…\n\nJust as the my father had, and his father and theirs before, I die a cruel death. Cruelty befitting a cruel people born of a cruel land.\n\nThe son next to learn as all our fathers had, yet was unknown.\n\nWe born of cruelty, will die by it too.\n\n\nFin. Constructive Criticism Welcome. Note that these are always first drafts, mistakes are expected.", "\"Umm... Mr. President?\"\n\n\"Busy right now. Tweeting. Saying things that need to be said about football players.\"\n\n\"That's nice, sir. But while the US Constitution's display case was due for its annual vacuuming, the janitor's blue light on his MP3 player showed something hidden.\"\n\n\"Was it an apple? They're always hiding those. They're all over the magazines I read at my doctor's office. He's the best doctor. Says all my tests are the most positive, that I'm the healthiest human being that has ever been president.\"\n\n\"Not an apple sir. But you know how some of the founding fathers were into weird secret societies and the occult?\"\n\n\"Is the occult anything like an Applebee's?\"\n\n\"No sir, it's like eldritch sorcery and men in hooded robes doing sinister things.\"\n\n\"Very American thing to do. Love me some men in hooded robes doing sinister things.\"\n\n\"Anyway, we appear to have a Fisher King clause hidden in invisible ink in the US Constitution tied to the current president.\"\n\n\"Never really was one for fishing, but the king part I like. This means I get to have a crown, right? A big gold crown. The best crown, really.\"\n\n\"No crown, sir. The Fisher King is a historical literary device, or trope, that states that the state of the land is irrevocably tied to the one who rules it.\"\n\n\"Soooooo... what you're telling me is that the United States is totally awesome, and is only going to get awesomer in the future?\"\n\n\"Uhh... not exactly sir. Half the country is drowning and the other half is on fire.\"\n\n\"This is totally fake news. Those founding fathers were totally not cool dudes in robes and hoods doing sinister things. There were totally uncool cats in dresses that were probably like... doing whatever lame and bad things that uncool cats do. Which I don't know, because I'm not an uncool cat.\"\n\n\"As you say, sir.\"\n\n\"So now I'm having some thoughts about men in dresses. Get the guy with the medals to tell me about how the thing I just randomly said on Twitter with no input from my cabinet a few weeks ago is going.\"\n\n\"You mean General Mattis, sir?\"\n\n\"General Mattis, Colonel Sanders, Captain Crunch, whoever he is.\"\n\n\"Very well, sir.\"\n\n\"Oh. And now I'm hungry. Can you go send Jared to KFC to get me a bucket of extra-tasty crispy? Or maybe Ivanka. Say, do you...\"\n\n\"I'm just going to leave now, sir, before I am hideously creeped out before you mention something about your daughter and succulent, juicy breasts and I lose my appetite.\"", "\"That is the nature of things, Erich.\"\n\n\"Then why would a ruler ever be cruel?\"\n\n\"That is a question that cannot be answered in a moment, or even a day. It will take you a lifetime to learn.\"\n\nMaster Callon ended my studies in the North tower at noon, as he did every day. I met Aren near the gates, and we walked outside the castle walls.\n\nThe day was bright and a gentle, diffused afternoon light settled on the golden wheat fields surrounding the castle walls. \n\n\"Your brain any bigger yet?\" She asked.\n\n\"Shut up. It's important stuff. Besides, it's not like I have a choice.\"\n\n\"I just don't get it,\" she said, plucking a long stem from the ground, \"everything you need to know to Lead has to be learned out here.\"\n\n---\n\nIt was a magnificent day for a wedding. I was dashing in my black and red tunic, and Aren was perfect in her silver gown. I didn't look at my father, sitting there in the front row. I didn't need to think about his wishes or disapproval anymore. She wasn't common to me.\n\n---\n\n\nThe chamber smelled like blood, like metal. I could taste it on my tongue. She was screaming in pain, and then she wasn't and then the baby was screaming. I heard the drip of liquid on the stone, hushed murmurings of the attendant, then the baby cried. A wrinkled hand on my shoulder, a newborn thrust into my arms.\n\n\"She's gone.\"\n\n---\n\n\"My lord, there is no time.\"\n\n\"There's always time. You just have to find it.\"\n\nThe Southern armies were approaching. We had a day, two if we were lucky. The reserves were dwindling, the supplies low in the face of winter. Siege was likely, defeat was possible.\n\n\"Summon the remaining men. Old and young - if they can bear arms, they go.\"\n\n\"As you wish, my lord.\"\n\n---\n\nCold stone room, stone cold heart, seeping cold in all corners of the world. A world I own but cannot see, only know of in this dungeon of a castle. We have repelled the invaders, turned out the rebels, each attack and war and famine and curse of violence hardening me a shade. My footsteps are heavy through the castle: stone.\n\n---\n\nMy son, my beautiful son. Returned to me on a litter from the field of battle. My son, a crumpled pile of blood and metal. My son, a crooked sword. The eyes of his mother closed, gone forever. \n\nI know now why we can't bury them, why we don't. Fire cleanses. I can't know he is still there, underground. Must be gone entirely.\n\n---\n\nFire is light. Fire is purity. Fire cleanses the land, gives life back to the soil, eliminates the waste, the ugly, the out of place. The scorched soil is a blank canvas to draw a new society on.\n\nMy armies cover the land beyond my realm in flame. I have instructed them to take who and what they want - only what they can carry - and raze the rest. They move outward in ever-expanding circles, leaving new garrisons and lines of defense at each circle. Supply lines extend inward to my kingdom. My realm grows like a spiderweb. I feel every pulse from the threads of the web, vibrating inward.\n\n---\n\nMy teacher is dying. Master Callon lays on a bed in the infirmary, yellowed and wrinkled, like time was a fist slowly crumpling a piece of parchment. Impossibly wrinkled. I had forgotten the man, declined his requests for an audience over the years. I didn't need to hear anything he had to say.\n\nThey told me the end was near for him, and I decided to see him one last time. I'm still not sure why.\n\nAt first, I wasn't sure he could see me. His eyes were glazed and looked as if they saw another world than the one we occupied. I stood for a moment, then turned to leave.\n\n\"Do you understand, now?\" He said, voice trembling.\n\n\"Understand what?\"\n\n\"Why a ruler might become cruel?\"\n\n\"Are you suggesting I am cruel? I have built an empire of loyal subjects, safe from war, safe from bickering kingdoms. And still my empire grows. The cost is death, but the reward is peace. To make that purchase is my decision, and no one else's.\"\n\n\"Your heart is cold, Erich. It has been ever since you lost Aren. Even colder since your son.\"\n\n\"Don't talk about my family, old man. You may be dying, but you would do well to remember who you speak to.\"\n\nCallon shifted slightly, and grimaced.\n\n\"I knew you would have to learn some things for yourself. I just wish I could have taught you not to let the bad things consume your heart.\"\n\n\"I'll tell you one more time, master. I have a built a better world than the one I was given. The histories will vindicate me.\"\n\n\"I suppose everyone needs to sleep at night,\" he said mockingly.\n\n\"What a waste of time.\" I turned to leave again, and he breathed my name, almost too quiet to hear.\n\n\"Erich.\"\n\nI don't know what compelled me to turn. When I did, I was taken aback. The man was smiling, a smile twisted by pain on a face comprised entirely of wrinkles.\n\n\"Remember that in every place in the world, there is an Erich and an Aren. The world is not fair, Erich. Your job is to make the world as fair for others as you can, despite the unfairness it has shown to you. That is what a Leader does.\"\n\nI felt a stirring, clenched and closed it off, and left the room without response.\n\n---\n\nThe old man's words haunted me, made me angry, crept into my thoughts when I most needed a clear head. One day I went for a walk outside the castle walls, where Aren and I talked on summer afternoons. My guards followed close behind.\n\nI came upon a tree that we sat under for many hours on many days, lifetimes spent watching the clouds and and imaging a life, a future, a happiness. I knelt to see the spot where she would sit, a place in the wood made just for her, that would cup her perfectly as she leaned back. I leaned closer and saw scratches, indentations in the wood. She had carved a poem that I had forgotten, a poem that she loved.\n\nFate conspires to keep us apart.\n\nLove designs to bring us together.\n\nLife will author misfortune. \n\nDeath binds us forever.\n\nI turned and sat where she did, uncomfortable, the space in the wood too small for me, the tree pushing out against me. For the first time in many years, I looked up at the clouds. I heard the breeze rushing through the fields, rushing harshly and quietly, and I closed my eyes, and I wept." ]	3
	[WP] After taking out all the crime bosses in Gotham you come face to face with the last 2 leaders of Gotham's biggest crime family who have alluded you for years. They are your parents who faked their murder to avoid arrest.	[ "For years, the Gambino family had dropped hints about Scatman, the hero of the city of Gotham who had vexed all evil doers for years. Almost all, anyway.\n\nCharles and Cynthia Gambino, or The Duo, as they became known, had chiseled out a small sector of the city that was rampant with lawlessness. They employed a variety of foot soldiers to do their bidding, and ran racketeering, prostitution and back-door gambling spots that the keystone police had no way of detecting or stopping.\n\nIn the rare occasion that journalists attempted to do an expose, they were surprised to find The Duo not only approachable but also fairly amiable. Of course they denied any involvement in organized crime (who wouldn't, really?), but they were forthcoming about their vision of creating a metropolis out of Gotham.\n\nOnly one man they did not care for, a man who they never called by name but who they alluded to heavily. Journalists could read between the lines, and correctly deduced that it was The Scatman that they had in their sites.\n\nA hero with a mercuric rise, he was known for both his wondrous displays of courage as well as his insatiable appetite for human feces. It was a strong duplicity that resided in his image-- that of a kind of hero that you want to thank, but at the same time a hero you are deeply embarrassed about. Some wished him gone, for his reputation for eating human feces oftentimes overshadowed his heroic exploits in the tabloids.\n\nIt was on one crisp day that The Duo sat at a mid-town brunchery with a journalist discussing just such matters.\n\n\"And, let's just be frank here, Mr. and Mrs. Gambino-- The Scatman. We know you've alluded him for years, despite your protestations on the contrary. Why the hate?\" the chisel-jawed journalist inquired.\n\n\"Hate? Hate is a strong word, Mr. Smith,\" Mr. Gambino began, \"And this person, whom I will only allude to, I do not hate. I feel a sense of agony, to be quite honest, that he must reduce himself to such prude proclivities.\"\n\nThusly, the conversation continued far longer than it needed to, like a Jane Eyre novel. Well, not that long. I mean this is still entertaining, right? But yeah, the conversation continued, until the waiter, an elderly man who looked like Michael Cain, brought out the dishes.\n\nMr. and Mrs. Gambino were horrified to find on the journalists plate a brown, nutty sausage-looking and foul-smelling log. Before they could inquire as to its smell, the journalist eagerly shoved it into his mouth, the smears getting all over his face and hands.\n\n\"It is you!\" Mrs. Gambino shouted, dismayed.\n\n\"Dibadee-doo-bop biatch, grom grom grom this shit so tastey!\" the journalist, while ripping off his shirt and revealing his trademark symbol (it was a turd silhouette), screamed out, \"The Scatman!\"\n\n\"No, it can't be!\" Mr. Gambino screamed, jumping from his seat.\n\n\"You've alluded me for years, you ragamuffins!\" The Scatman shouted, pointing his shitty finger at them, \"Well here I am!\"\n\nA well of emotions overcame Mr. and Mrs. Gambino as they exchanged a meaningful look. Somehow they knew it was time to tell him, but how?\n\nMr. Gambino said nothing, but while maintaining eye contact with The Scatman he picked up a morsel of turd from the plate and slowly raised it to his face and gobbled it up.\n\n\"Mr. Scatman, I am your father,\" he said, the shit clogging his throat and giving him a Darth Vader voice.\n\n\"Ba deeee, doo bop,\" Scatman yelled, overcome with emotion. A tense moment ensued where neither man knew what to say. The air hung stale and heavy; so stale you could pick it up with a handful of toilet paper.\n\nThen all three embraced in a stinky group hug. The Duo wouldn't be alluding their son anymore from that day forth.\n\n" ]	1
	[WP] While preparing for a wedding a man attempts to tie his necktie with an Eldredge Knot, he accidently ties an Eldritch Knot.	[ "\"Damn, I can't get this knot to work for the life of me.\" It's true. He's been working at it for a solid ten minutes, diagrams laid out in front of him, and it still doesn't look even slightly like the pictures.\n\nHarry, twenty-three and nearly bald, looks up from his phone. \"You're doing it wrong. You... I don't even know how you managed to screw up that badly.\"\n\nA shrug in response. Arnold keeps toying at the tie. \"You know, I would have thought that something else would be difficult when getting married. You know... saying my vows perfectly, in front of dozens of people. Or finding a suit that actually fits. Or talking to my mother-in-law. But it turns out the main roadblock is a tie.\"\n\nAnother groomsman, Trent, sighs and stands up. He tends to dress slobby, but his parents were fairly strict when he lived at home. If anyone could tie a knot - it's him. \n\nWell, anybody in that room, specifically.\n\n\"I'm not sure what you've done here. Arnold... I can't even take it off. It's like it keeps tying more knots in itself whenever I try to take some out. Like one of those finger toy things.\"\n\nfreeeeeeedooom\n\nA beat.\n\n\"Did anyone else-\"\n\n\"Hear a creepy, nearly-silent voice murmur 'freedom'?\" Cody, still typing away at his laptop. For all intents and purposes, not in the room. Unless you want his seat.\n\n\"Yeah, that,\" finishes Arnold.\n\n\"Nope.\" Cody cracks his neck. \"But that would be really weird, I have to say.\"\n\nThe other groomsmen nod. None of them meet eye contact with Arnold.\n\nNone of them meet eye contact with Arnold because they aren't there. \n\nTo be more specific, because Arnold isn't there, and they aren't here. Here, which appears to be a ballroom designed by someone who spent years of their lives learning how to make sewers in movies. Here, which is not the room Arnold was in mere seconds ago, and not one he recognizes.\n\nHere, which is another damn roadblock in getting married!\n\nThere's nobody in front of him, so Arnold turns around, only to stumble backwards, suppressing a shout.\n\nThere, in all its glory, is a ten-foot-tall humanoid spider thing with fangs the size of Arnolds hand. None are symmetrical and not one is actually straight; each one bends and winds and swirls along its entire length. The only similarity is that each appears to be razor sharp.\n\nAnd the legs... Arnold avoids looking at the legs.\n\n\"Huuuuman... you have... summoned me.\"\n\n\"Damn it, MarxIa, I thought we were over this! And cut the crap. I know you screwed with my tie!\" \n\n\"Fine, Arny. But... an eldritch bond is not so easily broken. I wove myself into that tie, and you knotted it. You tied the knot, Arny. You're mine now.\"\n\n\"Let me guess. Your slithering half-wolf-half-mongoose 'boyfriend' left you again. This can't keep happening every few months. I have a life, MarxIa! And you're not a part of it.\"\n\n\"I could eat you right now, boyyy. Watch your tongue.\"\n\n\"Yeah, right. Now how do I get out of here? My wedding starts in an hour, and I can't be late.\"\n\nThe creature groans, as much as she is capable of doing so. \"Take off the tie, and you'll be transported back. But Arnold... you know, we could have had a wonderful life-\"\n\n\"Welcome back to the land of the living, Arnold. Glad you could join us.\" Cody doesn't even look up from his computer.\n\n\"I, er, okay.\" Arnold glances around the room. Not a single person is paying the least attention to him.\n\nAnd, he realizes after a moment, his tie is gone.\n\n^^^^r/forricide", "\"You know I hate cliches, but this is honestly the happiest day of my life.\" That's what Jim said to me that day, and I believed him. We'd been friends for twelve years and if there was one thing I could count on with him, it was his honesty. We'd grown up in the same town and by a twist of fate eventually ended up being roommates in college, along with someone else, a bit of a loner named Simon.\n\n\"I've honestly never worn a tie before, I'm still trying to work this out...\" Simon, standing just behind the two of us bemoaned, staring at the twin ends of his necktie with a befuddled expression. His skin was as pale as it had ever been, but with the familiar awkward patches of rose-red on his rounded cheeks and small, orb-like nose. He was certainly the strangest of the three of us and under different circumstances we might not have been friends, but by then we had been through so much together that I couldn't imagine it any other way at this point. It was a given that Jim would be the one to get married first. He'd met his girl that first year of college and she'd gotten her hooks into him the moment she found out he was pre-med. As much as it hurt Simon and I to admit it, we saw from the beginning what she really was. \n\nFor years we'd periodically try to bring up the subject, but each time Jim was insistent that he knew better, and after awhile picking open that scab became increasingly taboo. It seemed impossible that we should try to bring it up today of all days, but after talking to each other beforehand, Simon and I had resolved one last time to try and save our friend. So first chance we had, we herded Jim away from the gathering of everyone's friends and relatives, fighting back the stones in our stomachs and lumps in our throats to try and deliver our friend one final time. \n\n\"Listen, I know what you guys are really trying to do, and I want to say something first.\" He had said as soon as we'd found a room to be alone in. From his expression, he'd been anticipating this moment from the day he formally invited us to be his groomsmen. \"I love you guys, and I get it. I'm moving forward with my life, and you guys are scared things are going to change, that we won't see each other anymore, but Molly isn't the person you think she is, you were wrong about her back when we met and you're still wrong now.\" His words hung in the air awkwardly, ushering in a painful silence. How had he misunderstood us so badly? How many times had we tried to show him the patterns of behavior in their relationship? The way she isolated him, the way she used his success for her own gain. It was painful to watch, especially for those of us that had watched it all unfold from the start.\n\n\"I'm serious guys, I can't be doing this right. I mean, I only looked at the instructions on Wikihow like twice, so I'm not really confident I know what I'm doing.\" Simon finally broke the silence, his tie now a jumble of strange folds, twists, and knots. He let out a forced guffaw, clearly trying to break the tension at his own expense, a self-deprecating sense of humor we'd come to love from him. He was the jokster of our trio to be sure, but this wasn't the time for jokes. My expression must have given me away, because I saw it immediately mirrored in Jim's face. A sternness, an ardent and determined look I'd seen before in countless fights over the years. Between us I could feel the old wound peeling away, and from it fresh anger would soon flow.\nI remember the conversation now only in bits and pieces.\n\n\"You were never happy for us, and I can't tell you how many times she's been right about you! You know she told me you'd pull this today, too? I told her she was wrong, but deep down I believed her.\" He pressed his fingers to his temples and turned away from us, I remember him leaning against the windowsill to stare at the congregation of cars outside the chapel. I pleaded with him, calmly at first, but our tempers continued to flare. We were like that, him and I, always butting heads in our equally matched stubbornness.\n\n\"Guys?\" Simon spoke out again, but we barely heard him over the sound of our own self-interest. \"Something's...something's really wrong.\" He tried again to get our attention, but it wasn't until we felt the rumble beneath our feet that we finally noticed what had happened. Throughout our fighting he had been twisting and tying and knotting and un-knotting the loop of cloth around his neck, and what had become of it defied explanation. The angles and curves of the striped necktie at once looked unnatural and grim. Sharp edges blurred into sanguine forms, like twisted bodies in deathlike struggle. The shapes and distances warped and swayed, utterly non-euclidian in their formations and the tie seemed all at once to be much larger and longer than it had ever been before. My eyes began to quiver even as I looked upon it and I could hear Jim behind me stumble into a hat rack as he attempted to avert his eyes.\n\nI could barely open my mouth to scream before it all began to fall apart. The languid, flowing fabric began to weave around Simon, the room about us pulling further apart and crushing everything in it together in a maddening chaos. I could not tell when the sky outside turned black, but it was the last thing I noticed before my sight exploded into a flash of conflagrate darkness. I could hear screams, and the choked gurgles of Simon's windpipe slowly crushing itself and something else. Something emerging from his chest, from his whole being and filling the room. A heretical choir of cries and blasphemous invocations rose in hellion screams above the rattling din of the chapel's constant bone-like quaking. My final thoughts, a final moment of clarity before madness devoured my sanity like the shrimp cocktail that we'd enjoyed only hours prior. As the thing filling the room pressed us against the shrinking space we occupied between reality and this small annex of a wedding chapel, I couldn't help but regret it.\n\nI really should have bought Simon a clip on." ]	2
	[WP] "I think I hear him coming, should we run, or hide?"	[ "Quick hide!!!\n\nOh my God did he see us? \n\nNo, i don’t think so. Just stay behind the couch, we should be ok.\n\nJenny holds her younger sisters hand assuring her they hadn’t been spotted.\n\n“Emma it’s ok, he didn’t see us”\n\n“I’m so nervous, my heart is beating a mile a minute Jen”\n\n“I know, I know but you need to calm down so we can do what we need to do, we have been planning this for weeks now and only get one chance”\n\n“What if it doesn’t work, what if we mess up”\n\n“We won’t, trust me, now get ready I think he’s getting closer”\n\nJenny maneuvers behind the couch right under the light switch to the big room. She reaches into her pocket and hands Emma a small cylinder “Remember point it right above him and pull the string, he won’t see it coming”\n\nEmma looks to her sister for the signal \n\nJenny mouths silently and motions with her hands 1...2....3...NOW!!\n\nJenny and Emma both jump to their feet from behind the couch, Jenny hitting the light switch and she comes up and Emma taking aim...she pulls the string..BANG!!!\n\n\nSURPRISE!!! HAPPY BIRTHDAY DAD!!", "My little sister was crouched beside me. It was dark and late, we had stayed up passed curfew. She was starting to fall asleep so I shook her awake. I figured we should abort as our stake out didn't pay off.\n\n\"Did you see him?\" She said as she yawned.\n\n\"No, mission failure sis. We should call it a night.\"\n\nShe gathered up her things and we started towards the doorway. A scratching coming from the walls made me freeze in place. My sister heard it too, she had the same look I did.\n\n\"I think I hear him coming!\" She exclaimed. \"Should we run or hide?\"\n\nThe shuffling was getting louder, I had to think fast. We dove for cover behind the wall and peered into the room we just exited from. Scrapping continued for a few minutes followed by a thump. He was in. I had to look, I had to. Slowly I approached the corner of the wall and glanced into the room. There he was. My sister attempted to look as well but the floor groaned under her step.\n\nThe man looked in our direction. Thankfully we pulled our heads back in time. My breathing was laboured, all this excitement was getting to me. We were probably going to get in some kind of trouble for this, but it was worth it now. Steps could be heard in the room where the man was. They treaded around for a few moments and then stopped.\n\nThere was a sound similar to a snapping of fingers, followed by silence. I felt that enough time had passed so I poked my head around the corner again. He had gone. Curiously, I stepped into the room and found a note on the floor. My sister followed suit, she was visibly excited with what had transpired. I called my sister over and read the note to her.\n\n\"Seth and Clair,\n\nI know that you were watching me. You two shouldn't have been down here should you have? As long as you can keep a secret, I can too. Now scurry off and get some rest, you have a big day tomorrow.\n\nThanks for the cookies.\n\nSanta\"" ]	2
	[WP] You made a promise to your childhood best friend to never cause them pain. Unfortunately, you can't break this promise, and they have taken over the world as a super-villain. You're the only vigilante left, so you have to resort to causing them minor inconveniences until they snap.	[ "\"And then, after I beat all the strongest heroes, we'll take over the world!\" said Iceman. His name was Desmond, but ever since third grade, he'd asked me to call him by his supervillain alter ego. He seemed to enjoy it, and I was indifferent. It didn't seem to be causing any harm—at least, not at the time.\n\n\"Sure thing, Iceman,\" I nonchalantly nibbled on the end of my pencil.\n\n\"Wait, is that mine? You always take my stuff—and you're eating it! Gross!\" Iceman seemed visibly shaken.\n\n\"Sorry,\" I paused, \"Do you want it back?\"\n\n\"No, you can keep it.\" His face contorted as a thought replaced his annoyance. \"I did it. I finally figured out your sidekick name.\"\n\n\"What's that?\" I said nonchalantly. \n\n\"Thorn! Get it? Because you're a thorn in my side. It's a perfect name,\" said Iceman.\n\nHe held out his hand, inviting a high-five. I shrugged and our hands met in agreeance. Iceman didn't have any powers back then, but his palms were cool to the touch. \n\nThe two of us had an atypical dynamic throughout high school. He joined the debate team; I distracted him with silly faces from the audience during the most critical exchanges. We ran marathons; I ran behind him and occasionally stepped on the heels of his shoes. At lunch, when he wasn't looking, I would steal his french fries. I'm sure he hated it, but we were still best friends. \n\nThe night of our graduation, he turned to me. His eyes were surprisingly firey. \n\n\"It's almost time, Thorn, \"just like we planned. We're about to take over the world.\"\n\n\"Whatever you say, boss,\" I smiled. Everyone in the auditorium emitted a sense of accomplishment. Our fellow classmates through their caps into the air as Iceman turned to me.\n\n\"You have to promise me, no matter how hard it gets—we won't ever hurt each other. We're going to rule the world together,\" he said.\n\nI flipped the tassel from my hat into his face. He blew it out with a quick, cool huff.\n\n\"Sure, I promise. After all, it wouldn't be much fun ruling the world alone,\" I said.\n\nSome people say that college is a time for adventure and self-discovery. For Iceman, it was a time for consolidating power and defeating heroes. During his freshman year, he learned he could crystalize his hands into shards of ice. The hockey team seemed most impressed, and he quickly became a campus icon. I frequently turned the shower temperature down during morning routine to see if it would give him full-body ice armor. It did.\n\nBy sophomore year, he learned he could contain the ice to a short blast. None of the fraternities challenged us to a snowball fight. On April Fools Day, I replaced his sugar shaker with salt. He didn't like that either.\n\nBy junior year, he had grown into his powers. He was everything you'd expect of an ice-themed villain without the white hair and blue skin. The friends we made freshman year started giving us a cold shoulder. Sure, Iceman still had me—but he hated being ignored. One-by-one he sought out the country's strongest heroes. RubberRoy, PidgeonMan, and PoliceNinja fell with ease. As it turns out, ice is a pretty efficient way of winning fights. His battle with FireSoldier was the high-rated news special of all-time. The country wept when the soldier's flame finally went out.\n\nI watched from the loveseat of our dormroom. When Iceman returned that night, I knew what I had to do.\n\n\"So you beat, FireSoldier, huh?\" I asked as he walked in.\n\n\"Yeah, I'm really sore. I need a medical pack.\" he heaved himself onto the couch.\n\n\"Uhh...about that,\" I said as I faked a stammer.\n\n\"You used them all?!\" he said.\n\n\"You knew I had those paper cuts. Why didn't you get more?\" I said.\n\n\"And you knew I had my fight today. Jeeze, you can be so inconsiderate,\" Iceman replied.\n\n\"Sorry,\" I said as I scribbled in my notebook.\n\nHe sighed. \n\n\"Well I finally did it. I took over the world for us, Thorn,\" said Iceman. \"What do you want to do now?\"\n\n\"Hmm,\" I paused in thought, \"wanna get some pizza?\" I asked.\n\n\"Pizza?!\" he said in disbelief.\n\n\"You're right. They might not deliver to this address again after you froze the last guy,\" I said.\n\n\"I took over the world and all you want to do is eat pizza?!\" he screamed.\n\n\"That's all I really want to do right now,\" I said lazily.\n\n\"You never want to do fun supervillain things. Sometimes I wonder why I made you my sidekick,\" he said wearily.\n\n\"Well we can't really go out and party. Everyone is afraid of you,\" I said.\n\n\"Afraid of me?\" he asked slowly.\n\n\"Yeah-\"\n\n\"You mean afraid of us?\" he declared.\n\n\"Not really, no one really knows who I am,\" I said, clicking my tongue. Iceman hated that.\n\n\"Sure they do-\" he paused, \"Is-is that my pencil?!\"\n\nI removed the chewed pencil I'd been doodling with from my mouth.\n\n\"I told you not to do that anymore!\" he said breathily. His wounds must have been setting in.\n\n\"I can't help it, Desmon-\" I said.\n\n\"What?!\" he interrupted me. \"What did you just call me, Thorn?\"\n\n\"Shit, sorry. I forgot,\" I said\n\n\"You're so immature...I can't even stand to look at you right now. I'm going to take a quick shower,\" he walked into the bathroom. Hot water rushed out of the room like fog. As soon as I heard him sigh in relaxation, I twisted the temperature knob.\n\n\"This won't hurt, buddy. I promise! You just have to chill for a bit\" I said.\n\nThe cold water collided with his body and slowly encased him in a crystal shell. I held the temperature dial firm as he reached for it sluggishly. His wounds made him weaker than usual. I held him away with ease. \n\n\"You're so...\" he said as the ice shell neared his face, \"annoying.\"\n\n\"I know,\" I said.\n\n\"I'm done trying to rule the world with you. When I get out, I'm going to move to Bermuda and work as a bartender,\" he said as his eyes glazed over.\n\n\"That sounds fun, Iceman. That sounds fun.\"" ]	1

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